Author: Momo Chan

  I’m a cocktail waitress in a seedy bar, squeezed into a bunny costume that was more humiliation than fabric. In the VIP booth, the tycoon’s son, Bruno, was arguing with his one true love, a black card pinched between his fingers. “Five million on this card. Are you sure you don’t want it?” The girl, dressed in a janitor’s uniform, sneered at him from behind her mop. “My money is clean! You think being rich makes you special? Go on, ask anyone. Who would ever love a person like you?” Furious, Bruno grabbed me. “The card is yours. Do you dare to love me?” I took the card. “I dare.” Later, the girl had regrets. And Bruno? He came back to me. “Victoria is bothered by our past,” he’d said. “Maybe you should date someone else for a while.” “Fine,” I’d replied. ***** The sky was already dark when I left the hospital after visiting my grandmother. I hopped on my e-scooter and raced toward the bar where I worked. Halfway there, the rain started pouring. For a split second, I was distracted, and my wheels skidded on the slick pavement. Of course, I had to crash into a Maybach. A rear-end collision in the rain. I was completely at fault. A door opened and a man stepped out, unfurling a black umbrella. He tilted it kindly in my direction. As he got closer, I saw he was around my age, but with a refined, almost delicate beauty. Fair skin, a high-bridged nose, and sharp, elegant eyes that tilted up at the corners. His suit, though brandless, was impeccably tailored, making him look even more coolly aristocratic in the rain. I moved my aching arm and scrambled to my feet, apologizing profusely. “I’m so sorry, the rain was too heavy, my scooter slipped, I’m really so sorry…” A pathetic little whimper escaped my lips, brimming with self-pity. I held up my scraped arm, rubbing at my eyes. If I was going to play the victim card, now was the time. I was a student by day and a worker by night. Medical bills, tuition, living expenses—I was short on everything. There was no way I could afford to fix his car. I’d heard stories of rich car owners magnanimously forgiving broke commoners. A desperate prayer formed in my mind: Please let him be a kind, wealthy man who doesn’t care about the money. A familiar female voice cut through the rain, sharp with impatience. “Bruno, hurry up! Don’t make me late for work!” Work? A high-society heiress who takes a Maybach to her part-time job? A pale, oval face appeared in the car window. It was Victoria, the scholarship student from the class next to mine. Bruno pushed the umbrella into my hand and helped me right my scooter. He sighed, a note of resignation in his voice. “Forget it. Just go. Be careful on the road.” I thanked him profusely, terrified he would change his mind, and sped off into the rain. As I left, I heard Victoria complain, “What a hassle. I’m never riding in your car again.” I recognized him then. Bruno. The old-money heir from the campus forums. He was the sole heir to the Antonia Corporation, and he was hopelessly in love with the scholarship student, Victoria. The whole school knew he was pursuing her. He’d showered her with luxury gifts and arranged internships, all of which she had publicly refused. The last time, he’d staged a massive drone light show confession outside the women’s dorms. Victoria had finally appeared, looking distressed, begging him to “stop putting her on the spot,” insisting she didn’t want his “charity” and that she wanted to “make her own way in life.” I thought their tragic love story had finally ended, but here he was, still trying. I suppose it made sense. Everyone praised Victoria for her integrity and backbone. I’d even heard girls getting lectured by their boyfriends when they asked for birthday presents. “Look at Victoria. She never spends a man’s money.” In the bar’s staff room, I shivered as I changed into the bunny costume. The skirt was scandalously short, barely covering anything. I pulled on two pairs of thick tights and pinned the neckline higher. My manager knew my situation. “You get a 15% commission on drinks,” she’d told me. “As long as the customers don’t get out of hand, don’t turn your nose up at the money.” I nodded. A week’s pay as a bunny girl could cover several more days of my grandmother’s hospital stay. The door at the end of the hall opened. I froze. Victoria? She was wearing an oversized janitor’s uniform, her hair pulled back in a ponytail, struggling with a heavy water bucket. Our eyes met. A flash of surprise crossed her face, quickly replaced by a look of derision. “You work here too?” “Yeah. You? Janitor?” “The hourly wage is higher here,” she said, straightening her back. “And it’s clean.” I glanced at her washed-out sneakers and almost laughed. What was the difference between being a janitor here and anywhere else? You were still scrubbing floors. Or was she implying that, compared to my job, hers was infinitely cleaner? We weren’t close, so we didn’t speak further. I carried a tray of drinks into a private room to make a sale. The room was thick with smoke. Bruno and his circle of rich friends were lounging on the sofas. A shattered bottle of Ace of Spades lay on the floor, its contents pooling on the carpet. Victoria was called in to clean it up. “Isn’t that the girl Bruno’s after?” someone whispered. The guy next to her quickly took the mop. “Here, let me get that for you.” Victoria’s head snapped up, her eyes like ice. “No need! You break a bottle to force me to serve you, and now you’re playing the nice guy?” The room fell silent.

  Bruno’s face darkened. “What’s that supposed to mean?” “It means,” Victoria said, standing up straight, “that I earn my money honestly. Not like some people!” “Victoria!” Bruno cut her off, pulling a black card from his wallet. “Just listen to me. Think of it as a sponsorship. You don’t have to work in a place like this.” I stood to the side, a silent observer. For people like us, a “place like this” was the best opportunity we could get. Victoria was trembling with rage. “Bruno!” she shrieked. “I’m not for sale!” Every eye in the room swiveled to me. Me, in my bunny costume with its barely-there skirt. Someone coughed awkwardly. “Hey, don’t mind her. She didn’t mean it like that.” I bit the inside of my cheek so hard I tasted blood. My nails dug into my palms. I was afraid if I let go, I would lunge at her and pull her hair. Who the hell was she to judge me? She preached about making her own way, yet she was secretly benefiting from the extra scholarship money Bruno had arranged for her. And from her moral high ground, she had the audacity to mock those of us who were truly struggling in the mud. “Last time I’m asking. Five million on this card,” Bruno said, slapping the black card on the coffee table. “Are you sure you don’t want it?” Victoria sneered. “I earn my money honestly! You think being rich makes you special? Go on, ask anyone. Who would ever love a person like you?” The room went quiet again. A humorless laugh escaped Bruno’s lips. He grabbed my wrist. “What about you? The card is yours. Do you dare to love me?” The black card gleamed under the dim lights. I thought of the IV needle buried in my grandmother’s wrist. I thought of the mountain of tuition and fees that were about to crush me. Dignity? That was a luxury only the rich could afford. “I dare,” I said without hesitation, taking the card from his hand. Victoria’s expression froze. She stared at me, her gaze dropping to Bruno’s hand, which was now wrapped possessively around my waist. “You’re pathetic,” she spat at me. Then, for Bruno’s benefit, she added, “You’ll regret this.” She stalked out, mop in hand, her head held high. Bruno’s friends, however, burst into cheers. “Out with the old, in with the new!” “It’s about time you moved on, man! What’s the point of chasing someone who just throws it back in your face?” “She’s addicted to playing the victim! Turning down good money just to suffer.” “Yeah, this one is much sweeter!” Yes, I was pathetic. So pathetic that I could see the truth she refused to acknowledge. The special “underprivileged student” spot that magically appeared in last semester’s international competition. The extra TA position in the science lab that the professor had hand-picked her for. I wanted those unseen advantages and privileges, too. She wanted to be a saint. Fine. I hope she enjoys her sainthood. After that night, I became Bruno’s official girlfriend. He told me to spend the five million on the card as I pleased, and to let him know if I needed more. I used his card to pay for my grandmother’s hospital stay, pre-loading her account with two million. It would be more than enough. The moment the transaction notification popped up on my phone, for the first time, I felt the frantic, spinning top of my life begin to slow down. Before this, every day had been a struggle. Two meals a day: a bun and an egg for breakfast, rice and one vegetable dish for lunch. The egg was my only protein. The vegetables were the cheapest on offer at the cafeteria. One day, I was in line at the cafeteria, deciding to splurge on a meat dish. A short burst of laughter erupted behind me. It was Victoria and her friends, whispering to each other. Their eyes were fixed on the designer cashmere scarf Bruno had given me. It was, undoubtedly, evidence of my gold-digging ways. When I went to the logistics office to quit my campus jobs, the manager gave me a pointed look. “A young girl like you should focus on being practical.” At the elevator for my weekend English class, I ran into the top student from my department. “You’re in the summer intensive course, too?” The moment I nodded, I heard whispers from behind me. “She’s just buying her way in with her boyfriend’s money.” They were right. But I was going to use this shortcut to build my own path. With money in my pocket, my hostility toward the world began to soften. Of course, every time I used the card, Bruno got a notification on his phone. One night, he called me to pick him up from a bar. As I approached the room, I heard his friends talking. “Not bad, Bruno. This new one actually knows how to spend money. A lot better than the last one!” Bruno jabbed him in the ribs with his elbow. “Careful what you wish for,” another friend slurred, drunk. “You just got rid of one extreme. Don’t end up with a money-sucking vampire on the other end.” Bruno slipped his phone back into his pocket. He’d been looking at the transaction alerts. They were all from the hospital, the cafeteria, tutoring centers. A low chuckle rumbled in his throat. “She’s spending it well,” he said, downing his drink in one gulp. “Better than letting it sit in my account like a savings passbook.” When I pushed the door open, they all straightened up, respectfully calling me “sister-in-law.” The title was absurd. At best, I was his arm candy, a soulless gift-receiving machine. Bruno seemed addicted to giving me things. The latest Chanel collection, priceless pearl earrings, a crocodile Birkin bag, entire sets of luxury skincare. “Dress the part, and people will listen to what you have to say,” he told me. He had said the same thing to Victoria once. She had thrown the coat he’d given her back at him, muttering that it was “too flashy.” Then she’d worn her faded, old jacket to a job interview and came back complaining that they hadn’t even bothered to look at her resume because she looked too young. My intimacy with Bruno was limited to holding hands and an arm around my waist. It was as if he just needed someone by his side who knew how to spend money, to complete the picture. And I just happened to desperately need money. One weekend, while we were out shopping, we ran into Victoria at the mall. She saw the shopping bags hooked on my arm. This time, there was no disdain in her eyes. Only envy. Bruno awkwardly let go of my hand, as if he wanted to explain something, but the hatred in her eyes silenced him.

  Three days later, I heard Victoria had applied for the student exchange program. Bruno was at a street food stall with me when he got the call from his advisor. He’d been patiently peeling crayfish for me. For a while, the great heir to the Antonia Corporation had been happily slumming it with me at night markets and food stalls. The red oil from the crayfish had splattered on his white shirt cuff, and I felt a pang of guilt. After he hung up, he didn’t say anything. He just kept peeling the crayfish and piling them on my plate. Everything seemed normal. But in the middle of the night, his friend called me. “Bruno’s at his downtown condo. He’s locked himself in. We’re a little worried. Can you go check on him?” The moment I opened the door, the thick stench of alcohol hit me. The floor-to-ceiling windows were wide open, the curtains whipping violently in the night wind. Bruno was curled up on the rug. He heard me and looked up. His eyes were alarmingly red. His usually straight back was slumped, as if all the strength had been drained from him. “She’s gone,” he said, his voice so hoarse it made my own throat ache. “I used to tell her she was a fool for working so hard to save money. But yesterday… she transferred me some money. She said… she said it was a travel fund we’d saved up together when we were both working part-time.” He suddenly laughed, a sound mixed with a sob. “Why is she so stubborn? I wish she were more like you.” But I knew the truth. If she were like me, Bruno wouldn’t love her. I didn’t know how to comfort him. I cleaned up the apartment and helped him to bed. As I was about to leave, he grabbed my hand. “You’re leaving, too?” “You said you would love me.” I hadn’t realized he remembered what I’d said in the VIP room that night. In the moment I hesitated, he pulled me into his arms, and I fell onto the bed. When he kissed me, even though I had prepared myself to be a sugar baby, I was still scared. I turned my head, and the kiss landed on my cheek. His fingers traced the side of my face, his voice a soft, patient coaxing. “Don’t hide from me, Alberta. You’re mine.” The night dissolved into a blur. After that, physical intimacy became a constant between us, a feverish habit he couldn’t get enough of. One day, he insisted I dress up as a bunny girl for him. I snuggled against his shoulder, a rare moment of coquettishness. “Not today. Next time.” He pinched my waist, always leaving his marks on me, fingerprints and bruises from his kisses. “It’s always ‘next time,’ isn’t it?” He kissed my cheek. “My timid little bunny.” Later, as we were both scrolling through our phones, I saw in the alumni group chat that Victoria was coming back to the country. I’m sure he saw it, too. His phone rang. “Bruno, Victoria’s back. She’s throwing a welcome home party. Are you coming?” He shot me a guilty look and snapped into the phone, “Don’t bother me!” I pretended not to care. “You should go if you want to.” I don’t know if it was my timing, or if my feigned magnanimity had struck a nerve. The smile vanished from his lips. I wrapped the sheet around myself and reached for my clothes on the floor. “I’m heading back to campus.” “Okay,” he said distractedly. I couldn’t focus in the library. I put on my headphones and logged into a burner account on a game. And then I heard it. His friend’s voice, clear as day through the game’s voice chat. “So, if Victoria is willing to give you a shot, what about Alberta?” Bruno’s voice was cool and distant. “What about her?” “I mean, she’s been your girlfriend for two years.” I held my breath. In the game, my character had already been killed. He sighed. “We’ll break up. I can’t be with two people at once, can I? Besides, I’ve been more than generous with her these past two years.” His friend agreed. “True. It’s a shame, though. We’ve all gotten used to having Alberta around.” “That’s enough. Not a word about this in front of Victoria.” The one who isn’t loved is always the third wheel. I understood. I quit the game. Suddenly, the last two years with Bruno felt completely meaningless. But tears still fell onto my phone screen. My fingers trembled as I typed out the words. It was better to make a graceful exit now than to wait for him to deliver the sentence. “Bruno, Victoria’s back. Let’s break up. I hope you get everything you’ve ever wanted.” I waited a long time. The “typing…” bubble appeared and disappeared. Bruno hated texting. He always said, “Why waste time texting when you can clear things up with a two-minute phone call?” A “ding” signaled a new message. “Okay. If you ever need anything, just ask.” When things were good, I had dared to hope he might love me. Now that we were breaking up, I finally understood my place. I was just the opportunistic clown who had taken advantage of a situation. “Victoria has always had a misunderstanding about you. I hope you two can avoid each other in the future.” I understood that message, too. He was afraid I would use some cheap trick to hurt his precious white moonlight. He was warning me. The past two years had given me the illusion that we were equals. Now that we were breaking up, I realized that he had always had the right to look down on me. I froze, my hand gripping the phone. “Okay. Understood,” I typed back. I moved out of the dorm immediately and started at the internship I had already arranged. That night, there was a welcome dinner for the new interns. Of all places, it was at the same bar where I used to work. The moment I walked in, I saw Victoria on Bruno’s arm. I quickly ducked into the next room. As I was about to leave, someone stopped me. I recognized him. A VIP at the bar named James. I had met him once with Bruno. I remembered they didn’t seem to like each other. His eyes raked over me. “Bruno’s girlfriend?” I frowned. “Sorry, wrong room.” He smirked, a lecherous look in his eyes, and tilted my chin up with his fingers.

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  Seven times, I married the same man. And seven times, for the sake of his one true love, my husband divorced me. The first time we married, he told me, “For the rest of my life, I will love only you.” But whenever she came back to town, his tune would change. “Can’t you be more understanding? Do you really want Emma to be branded a homewrecker?” The first time we divorced, I slit my wrists in a desperate attempt to keep him. They rushed me to the hospital, but he never came. Not once. The third time, I debased myself, applying for a job as his assistant, just for the chance to see him more often. By the sixth time, I had learned to pack my things quietly and move out of our home without a fight. My hysteria, my retreats, my quiet compliance—all of it earned me his punctual remarriages and his predictable betrayals. Until this time. This time, after getting word that his precious Emma was returning, I was the one who handed him the divorce papers. He set a date for our remarriage, just like all the other times, but he didn’t know. This time, I was leaving for good. *****   “Emma’s back. We should get a divorce.” I slid the signed papers across the table to my husband, Ryan Hugh. For a moment, he looked stunned, but he recovered quickly, signing his name with a practiced ease. This was the first time I had initiated it. But he still made the same casual promise he always did. “She’ll be gone in a month. We’ll get married again then.” In the past, those words would have sent me spiraling, desperate for more reassurance. I would have demanded he swear an oath, sign a contract. But this time, I felt nothing. No desire to respond at all. “Tiffany, are you listening to me?” Ryan’s brow furrowed, clearly annoyed by my silence. I had to force a nod. “Yes.” My hands didn’t stop moving, folding clothes and placing them neatly into a suitcase. Ryan always kept his word about remarrying me. He was known in his industry for his integrity. That much was certain. It was almost as if we weren’t a husband and wife, but two parties in a contract, periodically terminating and renewing our agreement. The marriage and divorce certificates were just paperwork, two a year, every year. To date, I had signed twelve. I remembered on our wedding day, he promised he would never be unfaithful during our marriage. And he had kept that promise. After all, once we were divorced, he was free to be with whomever he wanted. The only cost was my reputation. I was known throughout our social circle as his plaything, a woman he could summon and dismiss at will. My unusual calm today seemed to unnerve him. The memory of my past hysterics, of the times I’d hurt myself, was still vivid in his mind. He watched me pack, faster and more efficiently than ever before, and said, a little defensively, “I can be the one to move out this time…” The snap of the suitcase latch closing cut him off. “I’ve already arranged it with my friend. I’ll stay with her for a few days.” A flicker of recognition crossed Ryan’s face, and his expression soured. “Don’t tell me you’re playing hard to get again. Are you going to sneak into the company disguised as an assistant to watch me?” “Tiffany, can’t you get a life? Are you really that incapable of living without a man?” I understood his subtext perfectly. He just didn’t want me showing up at his office and disturbing his precious time with Emma. She was only in town for a short while, after all, and he wanted her by his side, in her role as his special assistant. After our second divorce, I had successfully applied for that assistant position. I had walked into his office holding his favorite latte, my heart full of hope. I found him locked in a passionate kiss with Emma, who was sitting on his lap. I lost control and attacked her. Ryan slapped me so hard I fell to the floor. A crowd of employees gathered outside the office, gawking at the spectacle. They all thought I was still the CEO’s wife, and their gazes on Emma were filled with contempt. To protect Emma’s reputation, Ryan ignored my tearful pleas, snatched my purse, and dumped its contents onto the floor. The deep red of the divorce certificate was like a gaping mouth, screaming the truth of our relationship to the entire world. From then on, every time we divorced, Ryan made sure to announce it publicly. Everyone knew Ryan loved Emma. And everyone knew I was the shameless one, clinging to him, refusing to let go. But this time, Ryan’s fears were unfounded. I picked up my suitcase without hesitation. “Don’t worry. I won’t bother you again.” He eyed me with suspicion, but as I opened the door and stepped out, he called after me, a hint of urgency in his voice. “We’re getting remarried on the 13th of next month. Don’t you forget.” I froze for a second. What a coincidence. The 13th was the day I was leaving the country.

  With Emma back, Ryan didn’t think of me once. Just as he’d promised. And I, for my part, broke my old, obsessive pattern of tracking his every move, of trying to intercept him at every possible location. Instead, I settled into a blissful routine with my best friend, Janice, filled with late-night food runs and cheap beer. The days flew by. With only twenty days left before my departure, Janice and I were waiting for our food at a restaurant when Ryan and Emma walked in. He had his arm around her waist, and they were laughing, looking like a perfect couple. “Tiffany?” Ryan’s eyes found me immediately. Emma wrapped her arms around his neck, her smile sickeningly sweet. “Tiffany, what a coincidence! You’re here for dinner too?” When she saw my gaze land on her, Ryan instinctively stepped in front of her, shielding her. I knew he thought I was going to lunge at her, just like I had before. But not only did I not move, I actually held back Janice, who was ready to fight on my behalf. I managed a nonchalant smile. “Yeah, what a coincidence.” Sensing my submission, Emma’s smile widened. “So sorry, Tiffany, but Ryan promised to book the entire restaurant just for me tonight. You’ll have to find somewhere else to eat.” She tugged on his arm, her voice a saccharine whine. “Isn’t that right, Ryan? You have to say something, or Tiffany will think I’m targeting her on purpose.” For a split second, as his eyes met my calm gaze, Ryan hesitated. But then he nodded at me. He didn’t say a word, but his silence was more cutting than any insult. Janice started to roll up her sleeves, but I gently pressed her arm down. “It’s fine. We can go somewhere else.” Somewhere else. Somewhere without Ryan. My departure was so close. I didn’t want to waste any more time on pointless arguments with my ex-husband. As a good ex, shouldn’t I just treat him as if he were dead? The restaurant manager, sensing the situation, rushed over to fawn over the couple. “You two are so lovely together. It’s truly enviable.” At his words, Ryan’s gaze shifted to me, a complex mix of wariness and curiosity. He seemed to be waiting for me to say something. But I just took Janice’s hand and stood up to leave, pretending I hadn’t heard a thing. Ryan was clearly not expecting my lack of reaction. He stared at my retreating back, lost in thought. Emma had to call his name several times, her voice growing impatient, before he finally, reluctantly, tore his eyes away.     I thought the encounter at the restaurant would be my last with Ryan before I left. But on the evening I officially resigned from my position as his assistant, he sent me a video call request. This was so unprecedented that I had to fight the urge to decline, instead answering with audio only. His voice was laced with annoyance. “Why just audio?” “I’m not wearing any makeup,” I said, the excuse tasting like ash in my mouth. It was a foolish thing to say, implying I still wanted to look good for him. As I expected, he chuckled, his mood instantly lifting. “We’ve been married long enough. Is there any version of you I haven’t seen?” His flirtatious tone made my skin crawl. “What do you want?” I asked, my voice cold. He sensed the shift immediately, his lazy posture straightening. “HR told me you resigned.” “I did,” I said, offering no explanation. Silence hung between us. He tried to make a joke, but it sounded forced. “It’s for the best, I guess. You had a perfectly good life as the CEO’s wife, and you chose to be an assistant. Talk about making things hard for yourself. Not that you were ever in the office much anyway. And I still had to pay you every month. The whole company knew you were only there because of me. They all said I was playing favorites.” I cut him off, my patience wearing thin. “Don’t you need to be with Emma?” He muttered under his breath, “It’s not like there’s anything serious between us. Nothing to be with.” Then he fell silent, as if suddenly remembering that I was just his ex-wife, too. A wave of guilt seemed to wash over him. “About the divorce… I’m sorry.” “I was just worried that if we stayed married, people would talk about Emma…” I nodded. Emma shouldn’t be subjected to gossip. So I should be the one to become a laughingstock, the butt of every joke in our circle. My voice turned to ice. “If there’s nothing else, I’m hanging up.” “Wait!” he said, his voice urgent. “The 12th is our anniversary. There’s a concert, The Remnants. I know you want to go. I’ll take you. We’ll go together, okay?” For a fleeting moment, I was tempted to tell him the truth. But before I could speak, Emma’s voice drifted from his end of the line. “Ryan, honey, I forgot my towel. Can you bring it to me?” He didn’t answer right away, just stared at my name on his phone screen, clearly torn. “Go on,” I said, my voice flat. He slowly got up, but he didn’t put the phone down. “Tiffany, wait for me. I’ll be right back.” He walked towards the bathroom. And then, just as I expected, I heard the sound of them kissing, a muffled grunt from Ryan, and the bathroom door slamming shut. I hung up, a bitter smile on my face. Just then, Janice burst in, excited about a night out at a club. Without a second thought, I put my phone down and linked my arm with hers. There were so many other things in the world that could make me happy. I had been blind for so long. Why waste another moment of my life on a man who was already in my past?

  The days without Ryan passed in a blur. Before I knew it, my departure was just a few days away. I hadn’t seen him, but I’d heard from Janice that he and Emma had had a massive fight. He’d even stormed out of a gala, leaving her humiliated. Rumor had it they were fighting about me. I just laughed it off. I wasn’t that same love-sick girl anymore, the one who would obsessively refresh social media, searching for any sign of a crack in their relationship so I could rush to his side and declare my undying love. They were just having a lover’s quarrel. They’d make up. And what if it was about me? Wasn’t I always just a part of their twisted game? After the fight, though, he started calling me more and more often. I either ignored his calls or made up excuses to avoid seeing him. The day before I was set to leave, he called again, asking me to the concert. “I have the tickets. Let’s meet tonight, okay?” “It’s our anniversary. You can’t say no to me today, can you?” He had never pleaded with me like this before. Usually, he would just toss out a suggestion, take a single step towards me, and I would sprint the other ninety-nine to meet him, only to find that he had already taken that one step back for Emma. But I didn’t know what to say. Because today wasn’t our wedding anniversary. It was the anniversary of our fourth remarriage. After all this time, all the breakups and makeups, I was the only one who bothered to remember all the little details of our life together. But in the end, I agreed. I really did want to see The Remnants. That night, I waited and waited outside the concert hall, but Ryan never showed up. I played the voice message he’d just sent. His guilt-ridden voice, mixed with the loud, muffled sounds of the concert and the faint giggle of Emma in the background, filled my ears. “I’m so sorry, Tiffany. Emma suddenly felt sick. I had to take her to the hospital.” “We’ll have plenty more anniversaries to celebrate. Once she leaves tomorrow, I’ll do whatever you want, okay?” The concert started. A haunting melody drifted out from the venue. “Thanks for the special invitation, to witness your new love’s coronation. I tell myself every second, don’t run away.” I closed the message and, for the first time in a month, opened my social media. The first thing I saw was Emma’s new post from a few minutes ago: a selfie of her and Ryan at the concert. “I’m letting go of all my memories, to make room for your new love story. But I still can’t believe, this is my destiny.” The song continued, a mocking soundtrack to the flicker of hope I had foolishly allowed myself to feel when I agreed to meet him. And now, that last flicker was finally, completely extinguished. Seven divorces. I should have known better, shouldn’t I? But at least this was the last time. With no lingering feelings left, I turned and went to the airport. I sat there all night. At 7 a.m., I checked in for my flight. Ryan sent me a text, asking when we were getting remarried. I didn’t reply. I just deleted his contact. At 8 a.m., I was in the boarding line. He called. I didn’t answer. I just blocked his number. At 9 a.m., I was on the plane. The flight attendant asked everyone to switch their phones to airplane mode. Just then, a call came through. It was Janice. But it was Ryan’s voice on the other end, tight with panic. “Tiffany, where are you?”

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I fell for a guy with nothing, hiding my identity as an heiress. I worked my way up from the bottom, right alongside him. But on the eve of our wedding, I caught him cheating with his female boss. “That Celeste is so ugly and poor, she can’t even hold a candle to you, Valerie.” “I’m still counting on you for career guidance.” My palms were stinging, and it was all I could do to stop myself from bursting through that door and tearing into him. After shredding the multi-million dollar contract in my hand, I fired off a text to Dad. “I agree to the arranged marriage. I’ll be home next week.” The lights were still on in our shared apartment. I was sitting on the couch when Derek walked in. “Celeste, why aren’t you asleep yet?” He took off his jacket, his voice soft, as if everything was normal. I looked up, meeting his eyes. There was a stark red smudge on his collar, unmistakably lipstick. “Worked late?” I asked, my voice barely a whisper. He nodded, tossing his jacket onto the sofa, then leaned in to hug me. “Project’s on a tight deadline. I’m exhausted.” The scent of Valerie Sterling’s perfume clung to him, making my stomach churn. I sidestepped, avoiding his embrace, and gave him a forced smile. “I’m a little tired.” After a moment’s thought, I decided to give him one last chance. “Derek, what do you really think of me?” His expression froze, then he forced a stiff smile. “You’re the best, Celeste. You never cared that I wasn’t rich, and you always looked out for me.” My fingers trembled slightly. A bitter laugh escaped me, but only in my head. “Just that?” His gaze darted between the clock and me, confused by my question. “Of course not just that! I love you more than anyone.” “What if there was someone better? Someone rich, someone who could actually *give* you a future?” I pressed on, relentless. “Have you been listening to gossip? We’re getting married, of course I wouldn’t want anyone else.” I stared at him, my eyes full of scorn. “You sure?” “Absolutely!” He took my hand, his palm clammy, his voice dripping with sincerity. “I’ve wanted to marry you for ages, I just couldn’t afford it before.” He was always like that, always putting on this sincere act, but deep down… God, what a joke. I pulled my hand away, stood up, and asked, my voice chilling. “What about Valerie Sterling, then?” His smile froze on his face. “Valerie who?” “Never mind. Go to sleep.” My voice was barely a whisper, yet it was heavy with disappointment. I gave him a chance. He chose not to take it. Fine. So be it.

First thing the next morning, I packed all my documents and headed straight to the office. The glass door of the HR department shimmered under the harsh fluorescent lights. When I pushed it open, Valerie Sterling was leaning against a desk, her bright red nails tapping impatiently on a document. She was in a tight black dress today, making the executive badge pinned to her chest gleam like a taunt. “Well, well, if it isn’t our dear Assistant Celeste.” She savored the word ‘assistant,’ dragging it out with mocking emphasis. “Early bird, huh? Coming in to quit?” Manager Thompson, the HR manager, stood by awkwardly, her mouth opening and closing as if she wanted to say something but couldn’t. I calmly placed my resignation letter on the table, my voice flat. “That’s right. Please process it as quickly as possible.” Valerie suddenly reached out, pressing down on the document. “What’s the rush?” She leaned in, her perfume so cloying, it made my temples throb. “You know, Derek worked late at my place last night.” She suggestively traced the red mark on her neck, her voice dripping with venom. “Ah, to be young and full of stamina.” I dug my nails into my palms, the sharp pain a desperate anchor. Just then, the office door burst open, and Derek stormed in, cradling a stack of files. “Valerie, your reports.” His words died in his throat. Three pairs of eyes locked, and the air crackled with tension. Derek’s tie was crooked, and there was still an unsmudged lipstick print on his collar. He visibly flinched, his composure shattering the moment he saw me. “Celeste? What are you doing here?” “Just need to handle something with Valerie.” My voice was laced with ice, as if I were speaking to an enemy. “You certainly seem to appreciate how she ‘handles things,’ don’t you?” Valerie suddenly laughed. She playfully patted Derek’s shoulder. “Your girlfriend is hilarious.” She turned to me, a sneer on her face. “Celeste, a poor student like you won’t find another job after leaving here.” “Right, our future Director Miller?” Derek just stood there, his lips twitching, but he eventually just lowered his head, pretending to sort a stack of papers that were already perfectly aligned. That simple action was a sharper dagger than any words he could have spoken. I snatched up my signed resignation, glancing at Derek one last time before turning to leave. “You know what? When I was packing yesterday, I found that necklace you gave me.” He suddenly looked up, and I let out a light, mocking laugh. “It’s fake.” As I walked out of the office building, the sky was a suffocating grey, pressing down on the city. I took a deep breath and called Dad. “Dad, I quit. I’m coming home tomorrow.” On the other end, Dad’s voice was filled with relief. “Good, I’m glad you’re coming home.” Hanging up, I glanced back at the office building where I’d worked for three years, a chilling emptiness in my heart. The fluorescent light in the tiny apartment buzzed, casting a sickly greenish-white glow. Derek chased me through the door as I was zipping up the last of my sweaters in my suitcase. “Celeste, don’t do this!” He grabbed my wrist, his voice laced with pure panic. “Valerie and I really have nothing going on. She’s just… she’s just very friendly.” I yanked my hand away and pulled a velvet box from the drawer. Inside lay *the* “gold” necklace he’d saved three months’ salary for. I tossed it into the trash can right in front of him, the sharp clink of metal against plastic echoing like a final judgment. “Friendly enough to leave hickeys on your neck? Friendly enough for you to wear the *same* shirt for three days?” I pointed to the clothes drying on the balcony, then closed my eyes, my voice filled with anguish. “Derek, every single day when I washed your clothes, all I could smell was *her* perfume!” His face instantly went ashen. He lunged, grabbing my hand again. “Let me explain.” “Explain what?” I scoffed, shaking him off. “Explain how you told Valerie in the conference room that I was ugly and poor?” “Or explain how you sold your dignity just to get a promotion?” Outside, a sudden downpour started, raindrops slamming against the glass like countless tiny, mocking slaps. Derek slumped onto the edge of the bed, water dripping from his hair onto the floor, each drop a tiny accusation. “I know I’m not good enough for you, but this promotion is really important to me.” “How else am I supposed to marry you if I don’t get a higher position?” He said this with a pathetic sadness etched on his face, but his eyes… they held a chilling mix of threat and calculation. My heart felt like it was being gnawed by a thousand tiny insects, a creeping, unbearable pain. I zipped up my suitcase. The harsh zipper sound was like the final nail in the coffin. “Whatever you say.” With that, I turned and walked toward the door. “Where are you going?” He suddenly stood up, blocking the doorway, not wanting me to leave. “Business trip.” “Company arranged it last minute, just for a week.” I gave him a casual excuse, but inwardly, I scoffed. He opened his mouth, as if to say something, but eventually just sighed. “Then be careful, come back soon.” I didn’t answer, pulling my suitcase out of the shared apartment.

The day after I got home, Dad arranged for me to meet my fiancé. In the Albright family mansion’s drawing-room, the black tea I was sipping caught in my throat as the double doors swung open. The man stood there, impeccably suited, a smirk playing on his lips, and a familiar glint in his eyes. It was Ashton Hayes, my childhood nemesis. “Ashton Hayes! What are *you* doing here?” I slammed my teacup down, the sharp clatter echoing through the room and startling a black cat on the windowsill. “What, disappointed to see me?” Ashton slowly polished his gold-rimmed glasses, his tone as infuriating as ever. “Heard the great Celeste Albright ran away for love. Figured I’d come back for the show.” His eyes, behind his glasses, curved into a dangerous arc. “Didn’t expect to see a pathetic, drowned rat instead.” I grabbed a cushion and hurled it at him, my face burning crimson with rage. “You’re the rat!” He easily caught the cushion, then suddenly turned serious. “I heard that guy hooked up with his female boss?” Seeing my silence, he scoffed. “I told you, some people, once they get a taste of money, lose their decency faster than you can blink.” “What do you know!” I shot up, ready to argue. “At least he…” “At least what?” Ashton also stood up, his figure towering over me, casting an oppressive shadow. “At least he’d be there for you when you’re sick, bringing you hot tea or chicken soup?” “Or make you breakfast?” He suddenly reached out, pinching my chin, his eyes filled with a trace of something… investigative. “When did you start settling for so little, Celeste?” I slapped his hand away fiercely, but then heard his next words. “So, what do you say? Will you marry me?” I let out a scoff, rolling my eyes so hard I almost saw my brain. “Why not?” Outside the floor-to-ceiling window, Dad and Mr. Hayes were deep in pleasant conversation in the garden. I stared at the diamond tie pin on Ashton’s tie, crossing my arms over my chest. “I want a wedding for the ages. Every media outlet invited.” He raised an eyebrow, a slight smile playing on his lips. “And?” I met his gaze, speaking each word deliberately. “On our wedding day, I want Derek to watch Valerie Sterling’s company go down in flames.” Ashton let out a booming laugh, then reached over and ruffled my hair, a gesture that usually infuriated me, but now felt… different. “*That’s* the Celeste I know.”

The wedding was set for a week later, a grand affair. I stood in the dressing room, wearing my custom-designed wedding gown, my palms slick with nervous sweat. Ashton walked in. Seeing my tension, he deliberately teased, “What, having second thoughts?” I glared at him, feigning ferocity. “Shut up!” He chuckled softly, then reached out to adjust my veil. “Relax. With me here, no one will dare to laugh at you.” I froze for a moment, suddenly feeling like this infuriating guy wasn’t so bad after all. On the signature wall at the reception, Derek’s name was scrawled crookedly, squeezed into a forgotten corner. As Valerie Sterling’s ‘plus one,’ he’d been relegated to an extra seat in the very last row. Derek was busily handing Valerie champagne, but his eyes kept darting towards the gift table, piled high with designer gifts. As the wedding march began, I walked down the aisle on my father’s arm. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Derek’s back suddenly stiffen. His champagne flute tilted, red wine staining Valerie’s pristine white dress. “What are you doing?!” Valerie’s sharp voice drew everyone’s attention. But Derek was deaf to it. He was staring, utterly transfixed, at the diamond waist chain on my gown. It was the limited edition piece he once swore he’d never be able to afford. “And now, may the bride and groom exchange rings.” The emcee’s voice resonated through the venue. Ashton deliberately raised my left hand, allowing the ten-carat pink diamond to sparkle brilliantly under the spotlights. “You may now kiss the bride.” The moment the emcee finished speaking, Ashton lifted my veil and kissed me. A wave of enthusiastic applause erupted from the crowd. In my peripheral vision, I saw Derek stumbling forward, pushing through the crowd, only to be stopped by security. “Celeste!” He cried out, his voice torn. The music swelled, hitting its perfect crescendo. Ashton wrapped an arm around my waist, leaning in to whisper in my ear. “Want to add another act to the show?” Before I could answer, he suddenly turned to the audience. “Thank you to all our distinguished guests for coming, especially my wife’s former colleague.” As he spoke, a spotlight suddenly illuminated Derek’s ashen face. He nervously clutched the edges of his cheap suit, his voice tight with barely suppressed rage. “Celeste, how could you marry someone else? Just for money?!” Ashton scoffed, his gaze sweeping mockingly over the guests. “Money? Mr. Miller, you’re not suggesting everyone is as obsessed with it as you are, are you?” “You might not know, but my wife is the heiress of the Albright Group.”

Under the spotlight, Derek’s face shifted from ashen to crimson. He shoved the security guard away, staggering towards the stage. “Celeste!” His voice was hoarse, like sandpaper. “You’ve been lying to me this whole time?!” I stood on the stage, my fingertip lightly caressing the cold facet of my diamond ring. I looked down at him, a sneer curving my lips. “Lying to you?” I let out a soft, contemptuous laugh. “Compared to the three years you spent acting out your pathetic love story, what’s a little secret of mine?” A wave of hushed whispers swept through the guests. Derek’s fists were clenched so tightly his knuckles were white. Valerie Sterling, her heels clicking, rushed forward and grabbed his arm, her bright red nails practically digging into his flesh. “You’re making a fool of yourself!” She hissed, her voice low, but her eyes were fixed on me, sharp and venomous. “Celeste, do you really think marrying into the Hayes family makes you untouchable?” Ashton casually adjusted his cuff, then looked up, his eyes suddenly chilling. “Valerie,” His tone was lazy, yet each word was a razor. “I heard your company’s stock plunged this morning, hitting rock bottom?” Valerie’s face instantly stiffened. “Oh, and one more thing.” Ashton suddenly smiled, pulling me closer by the waist. “Thank you for taking such good care of my wife’s ex-boyfriend. As a thank-you gift…” He paused, leaned down to plant a kiss on my ear, but his voice carried clearly to the entire ballroom. “Hayes Industries will be initiating a full takeover of your company.” Valerie staggered back, her meticulously made-up face twisting in horror. Derek violently shook off her hand, his eyes blazing crimson as he lunged for the stage, only to be grabbed by Ashton’s bodyguards, his shoulders seized, and he was slammed to the ground. “Celeste!” He struggled to look up, veins pulsed wildly in his forehead. “You planned all this, didn’t you? Watching me like an idiot, letting me run around in circles!” I crouched down, the train of my wedding gown billowed out like fresh snow. My fingertip hooked under his chin. “Derek.” I whispered. “You still have her lipstick on your neck.” His pupils constricted. I stood up, looking down at him imperiously. “Get out. Don’t dirty my wedding.” As the bodyguards dragged him away, he suddenly started laughing like a madman. “You think Ashton Hayes is any better?!” He shrieked, his voice swallowed by the soaring crescendo of the symphony.

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I had loved Lucas Hayes for ten long years. He was always so cold, so distant, yet he never objected to our engagement. I foolishly believed that meant he was okay with it, that he wanted it. Until that day. I was braving the torrential downpour, rushing to bring him his stomach medicine. That’s when I stumbled upon Brittany Miller, the heiress of a rival company, playfully coaxing him to drink. I stepped forward to stop her, but his voice was scathing: “Do you really think you’re going to be Mrs. Hayes?” “Mind your own business.” In the noisy, crowded bar, my tears mingled with the rain, blurring my vision. Lucas, from this moment on, your life means nothing to me. Your affairs are no longer my concern. Lights flickered, casting shifting shadows across the bar. My hand clenched around the stomach medicine, and my body felt numb with cold. Mocking glances and looks of amusement and contempt fell on me from all directions. But what stung the most was Lucas’s impatient expression. He had chronic stomach issues; he had to take his medication after eating, otherwise the pain would be unbearable. I’d called him several times, but he hadn’t picked up, so I’d had to ask around for the location of tonight’s gathering. Just as I was about to arrive, a sudden downpour started. It was peak hour traffic; a mere five-hundred-meter stretch, but the GPS blared “thirty minutes.” Desperate to get the medicine to Lucas, I’d dashed through the downpour, soaked to the bone. In the sultry lighting, Brittany was draped against him, playfully coaxing him to drink. He, a man who loathed physical contact, was letting her do whatever she pleased. The moment I pushed the door open, her glass hovered at his lips, a scene of unbearable intimacy, dripping with unspoken desire. A pang of bitter jealousy twisted in my gut, but what flashed in my mind was Lucas’s face, pale with pain during one of his episodes. “He can’t drink!” The words burst out before I could stop them. The room fell silent, the buzzing chatter evaporating. I instinctively looked down. My mud-splattered black leather shoes left a tiny, dark stain on the pristine floor. A wave of mortification washed over me. But what humiliated me even more was Lucas’s response. He leaned back on the couch, a faint ‘Tsk’ escaping his lips. “Do you really think you’re going to be Mrs. Hayes?” “Mind your own business.” He didn’t even spare me a glance, tipping his head back to down the whiskey in one swift gulp. The words I’d meant to say died in my throat. I opened my mouth, but no sound came out. I swallowed hard, battling the tears, desperate not to look as pathetic as I felt. The others subtly shifted their gazes, treating me like invisible air. They moved carefully, detouring around me when they passed. A sympathetic girl, unable to watch, offered me a dry napkin. But her friend immediately yanked her away: “Why bother with her?” Rainwater dripped incessantly from my hair. Past memories replayed, one after another, in my mind. It hit me then, a cold, crushing realization. Lucas didn’t object to our engagement, not because he secretly wanted it, but because… he simply didn’t care. He didn’t care about his mother’s promise, about my grandma’s dying wish, or about me. To put it more cruelly, he held me in contempt. That’s why he’d stayed silent when others said I wasn’t good enough for him. That’s why my heartfelt concern was nothing more than “meddling” in his eyes. Mortification, humiliation, anger, and a deep sense of betrayal intertwined, but strangely, they dissolved into an eerie calm. I slowly dried my hair, then quietly placed the stomach medicine on the table. One last glance at Lucas. And then, without a backward look, I walked out of that bar.

The lights were still on at the Hayes’ estate. Vivian and a few friends were sitting in the living room, sipping tea. I was at the doorway, changing my shoes, and their conversation drifted clearly into my ears. “Vivian, you’re not actually going to let Lucas marry the housekeeper’s granddaughter, are you?” “If you ask me, you’re just too superstitious.” “Kids get sick easily! Look at Lucas now, he’s grown up, and his health is perfectly fine, isn’t it?” It was Karen, Vivian’s closest friend. Ever since Lucas and I got engaged, she’d always found reasons to disparage me. She’d said things like this not just behind my back, but to my face countless times. Vivian sighed. “Chloe has had a hard life.” “She took such good care of Lucas.” “When Lucas gets married, I’ll make sure to compensate her generously.” My vision blurred, hot tears stinging my eyes. I bit down hard on my lower lip, remembering how Vivian had once wept, begging me not to leave. Lucas had always been sickly. When he was fourteen, he fell gravely ill, so ill that everyone feared for his life. Desperate, Vivian had consulted a renowned spiritual advisor. That advisor, in turn, had singled me out. She claimed I possessed a rare aura, destined to bring good fortune to my future husband, and that my presence alone would ensure Lucas’s recovery if we were engaged. Just like that, I, an orphan adopted by the Hayes family’s housekeeper, was thrust into the role of Lucas Hayes’s fiancée. Lucas had always been cold towards me. When I greeted him, he’d pretend not to see me. When I secretly watched him, he’d frown and turn away. Once, he had an urgent matter and went home early, but I didn’t know, and was too scared to go look for him in class. I could only wait at the school gate. I waited and waited until the sky darkened, until the school was utterly deserted, walking home with tears streaming down my face. That day, I thought for a long time, and finally, I gathered all my courage and spoke to Vivian about breaking off the engagement. But she’d wept, pleading with me not to be angry with Lucas, listing countless reasons to ‘prove’ he actually liked me. “Chloe, Lucas is just a boy who isn’t good at expressing his feelings.” “He doesn’t say it, but in his heart, he can’t live without you.” “If he didn’t like you, why would he go to school with you every day?” “Why wouldn’t he hang out with other girls?” “And why wouldn’t he object to the engagement?” Her words had anchored me, year after agonizing year, in Lucas’s chilling indifference. Vivian’s kindness towards me had also grown, and sometimes, I’d secretly fantasize about her being my own mother. But the illusion, however, was bound to shatter. While I painstakingly learned how to be a good wife and daughter, they had already, unilaterally, pronounced my sentence. After ten years, this house felt less like a home and more like a gilded cage, and I didn’t know if I could even step inside anymore. On the dark street, I dialed my college roommate Riley’s number. “Riley, is that offer for you to work in the States still on the table?”

By the time I returned to the Hayes’ estate, the tea party had dispersed. Vivian saw I was alone, her face fell, and her voice held a note of accusation: “Chloe, why didn’t you bring Lucas back with you?” It was as if I had intentionally abandoned him outside. Yet she knew perfectly well that Lucas did whatever he pleased, accountable to no one. It used to make me feel small, wronged, but mostly anxious, terrified of displeasing her. Now, I simply stated the fact, my voice even: “He didn’t want to come back.” “Even if he didn’t want to, you should have persuaded him! You know his health isn’t great.” “Who was he with? Why didn’t you stay there and wait for him?” I lowered my eyes, unwilling to argue with her. “Just his usual friends, and Brittany.” At Brittany’s name, Vivian’s expression softened instantly. “Brittany was there? Oh, that’s nice.” Then, as if suddenly remembering something, her brows furrowed as she shot me a quick glance. I knew exactly what she was thinking: that my presence might upset Brittany. I didn’t react with my usual anxious compliance when she was displeased. I simply changed my shoes and went to my room to pack. I had very few belongings at the Hayes’ estate. What needed to be tossed, I tossed; what needed to be discarded, I discarded. What remained fit perfectly into a 28-inch suitcase. Only one thing, I didn’t know what to do with. It was a teddy bear in a brown dress, a gift Lucas had given me the day my grandma passed away. The young Lucas had gently pulled me into his arms, his voice a low, rough murmur: “Chloe, don’t be sad.” “I’ll take care of you from now on.” It was an embrace and a promise born out of pity, yet I had foolishly believed it was proof of Lucas’s special feelings for me. The bear seemed to stare back at me, mocking my foolish, self-deluded heart. I’d originally thought of returning it to Lucas, but then I realized, knowing his temperament, he’d simply toss it into the trash without a second thought.

I barely slept that night. Early the next morning, I carried my belongings downstairs. Lucas was eating breakfast. He glanced at the bundle in my arms, a flicker of doubt in his eyes, but he said nothing. As indifferent as ever. Vivian, however, asked, “Where are you going?” “Nowhere special. Just packing up some old things, I plan to take them out to—” Before I could finish, Lucas’s phone rang. He mumbled a few replies, then stood up and started getting dressed. “Something came up at the office. I’m heading there now.” Vivian reminded him, “Drive safely.” No one cared about my answer anymore. I let out a self-deprecating laugh, then left to hail a cab for the mall. Though the Hayes family had a chauffeur, I never used him. My tuition and living expenses, everything, I earned through odd jobs and part-time work. It was my pathetic way of clinging to some dignity in front of Lucas. As if by not taking advantage of their wealth, I could face him with a sliver more of self-respect. In the city’s most bustling mall, dazzling lights shimmered. I stood at the counter, thinking of buying Riley a brooch as a gift. A familiar voice, laced with a playful whine, floated from behind me: “Lucas, darling, doesn’t this necklace just scream ‘me’?” I instinctively turned my head. A tall, aloof man and a pretty, delicate girl. Anyone would say they made a perfect couple. I merely glanced, my eyes meeting Lucas’s. His eyes held a flicker of impatience. “What are you doing here?” I knew what he was thinking: he suspected I was following him. Back in high school, he’d go out with friends every weekend to unwind. Vivian, always worried, would make me tag along. But those rich kids never liked me. And I couldn’t refuse Vivian, so I’d always trail them secretly. When Lucas caught me, I’d just duck my head, stammering, unable to explain myself. But now, I pointed to the sales associate who was wrapping my purchase, my expression calm. “I’m just here to buy Riley a gift. I’ll be leaving immediately.” Lucas frowned, clearly unconvinced, but I didn’t press the issue or add anything else. From start to finish, I treated him like an acquaintance I’d bumped into by chance.

Back home, I knocked on Vivian’s door. After all, I’d lived in the Hayes’ estate for so many years; it was only right that I said goodbye. When I told her I was going to work in the States, she hesitantly nudged, “The States? What about your engagement to Lucas, then…?” “A childhood promise, nothing more.” Hearing me say that, Vivian feigned annoyance, but a look of profound relief washed over her face. “Chloe, how can you make such a big decision without telling the family?” “But since you’ve made up your mind, then do as you please. You’re a grown woman now, and matters of the heart aren’t for me to interfere with. When are you leaving?” Looking at Vivian, my heart twisted with a bitter ache. Not for her, but for the naive girl I used to be. “Tomorrow morning.” “So soon!” This time, Vivian genuinely looked shocked. Because tomorrow was her birthday. Every year, I’d prepare a surprise and cook her a special birthday meal. Vivian would hug me, teasing, “My daughter-in-law is so thoughtful. That boy Lucas has never cooked for me once!” I paused, then continued, “I won’t be attending your birthday dinner tomorrow.” “So no one gets the wrong idea.” As for what “wrong idea” people might get, Vivian and I both knew perfectly well. She also realized this, her expression turned complicated, and she hesitated, saying nothing for a long moment. I took her silence as consent.

The next day, I timed my descent down the stairs. Lucas was leaning against the sofa, meticulously instructing Martha about the evening’s party arrangements. Broken strands of dark hair fell across his forehead, giving the usually composed man a hint of youthful carelessness. Brittany, in a white cocktail dress, leaned casually against the armrest of the sofa. They were so close they were almost touching. The suitcase was heavy, clattering loudly against the marble stairs. The few people in the living room paused, looking up at me. “Excuse me,” I offered a polite, strained smile, trying to lift the heavy case higher. Lucas took a few steps forward, pointing at my suitcase. “What do you think you’re doing?” His expression was as indifferent as ever, as if asking about something trivial. If not for the noise, and the fact it was Vivian’s birthday, he probably wouldn’t have even bothered to ask. I didn’t want to talk much with him, so I vaguely replied, “Just some work to take care of. I’ll be gone for a few days.” Lucas stepped closer, his expression cold. “Today is my mom’s birthday.” “It’s urgent business. I’ve already spoken with Vivian about it.” I tried to step around him, but he stood still, blocking my path, radiating displeasure. “When are you coming back?” I won’t be returning. The words were on the tip of my tongue, but I couldn’t bring myself to say them. Saying something like that in this situation felt highly inappropriate. It was Brittany who spoke up, smiling sweetly: “Don’t you usually make a birthday cake for Vivian every year?” “Just because Lucas said a few things to you the other day, now you’re intentionally skipping her birthday?” “Anyone who didn’t know better would think the Hayes family had done something truly awful to you.” I pretended not to hear her words, pulled my suitcase, and quickly walked past both of them. Lucas wouldn’t let me go. He grabbed my wrist, his grip like iron. A suffocating pressure filled the air, as if the temperature in the room had plummeted.

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After we got back together. I shed all the bad habits Julian Sterling hated. No more tracking his every move, no more getting jealous over nothing, no more sweating the small stuff. I even found a lipstick in the passenger seat that wasn’t mine. I carefully put it away for him. But Julian’s face darkened, and he slammed on the brakes. Julian had sharp, angular features and an intensity that instantly commanded attention, making him effortlessly intimidating. Yet at this moment, he pinched the bridge of his nose, looking utterly exhausted. “That lipstick belongs to Cassie Davies.” “Last night, the business dinner ran late. She covered for me with drinks, couldn’t drive, so I dropped her off.” He looked at me, giving an explanation he usually disdained: “I’ve told you countless times, it’s only because she’s the daughter of a close family friend and business partner that I have to look out for her.” “Whether in the past, now, or in the future, there’s absolutely nothing between us.” Seeing my silence. His usually composed expression showed a rare crack. A hint of helplessness, something I’d never seen on his face, peeked through: “What will it take for you to believe me?” I calmly said, “Nothing, I believe you. I’m not angry.” Like a punch landing on a pillow, Julian’s expression went blank for a rare moment: “…Then why haven’t you said a word this whole time?” I glanced at my watch, calculating the time to the airport, and brushed him off: “You used to say you didn’t like hearing useless information.” “I’m going to be late for work. Why don’t you just drop me off at this intersection?” My focus was entirely on the road ahead, completely missing Julian’s face as it instantly turned grim. “You always get off at the next traffic light.” “It’s still two miles from our office here.” I hadn’t thought of that, forced to meet Julian’s scrutinizing gaze: “It’s early morning. If not to the office, where are you going?” Just as Julian’s hesitation deepened… “Ding—!” The exclusive ringtone, Cassie Davies. Julian’s sharp gaze retracted, his eyes darting around, a guilty attempt to appear innocent: “It’s a work call. I need to take it.” He immediately threw his suspicion of me out the window, unlocking the car: “Then you can get out here.” I nodded, quickly unbuckled my seatbelt, and he called out to me. “Don’t be so clumsy. Watch where you’re walking.” His voice softened behind me, a hint of coaxing. “That restaurant you always wanted to try? I booked it.” “I promised you before, I’ll never miss another anniversary.” “Happy seventh anniversary.” “Aurora, see you tonight.” My hand, on the car door, paused. The last anniversary, he’d left me for Cassie Davies. It hurt so much then, but now, recalling it, my heart felt strangely calm. “Go on, answer the phone,” I said softly, opening my mouth. “Don’t keep them waiting.” After all, Cassie Davies couldn’t wait. And neither could my plane. As for anniversaries. This year, next year, every year after that, I’d be absent.

I finally made it onto the plane. After settling into my seat, I felt a little dizzy, having missed breakfast. Habitually, I reached into my pocket and, sure enough, found three chocolates. Ever since I’d fainted from low blood sugar a long time ago. Every day, Julian would habitually put a few chocolates in my pocket. The sweetness melted on my tongue, and the dizziness quickly subsided. But then, a persistent, lingering bitterness crept up. Seven years together. How did Julian and I end up like this? At first, I truly believed Cassie Davies was just a ‘favor’ he had to do for a family friend, someone he brought into the company out of obligation. That’s why Julian had to be strictly professional with me at work multiple times, while giving her special treatment. My department head, Mr. Henderson, would constantly make my life miserable, and nothing would happen; but if he was even slightly curt with Cassie, he’d be fired. Everyone secretly nicknamed Cassie behind her back, calling her the future Mrs. Sterling even to me, Julian’s secret girlfriend. I forced myself to understand his difficulties, but this ‘special treatment’ extended to our home. Julian would repeatedly leave me for her phone calls. A furious argument erupted one night. I saw a photo in a colleague’s SnapChat group. Julian, who told me he was working late, was out watching a midnight movie with Cassie Davies. It was the exact movie I’d begged Julian to see with me multiple times, only to be ruthlessly rejected. I tugged on his sleeve, swaying, “Everyone watches it with their true love! Let’s go too!” Julian didn’t even bother to lift an eyelid, refusing, “Watching those mindless rom-coms is a waste of life.” But the man in the photo looked dashing, smiling brightly. Not a trace of impatience. The messages in the SnapChat group scrolled furiously, then blurred into a jumble before my eyes. When Julian came home, I asked him, my voice devoid of inflection: “Was ‘Ever After’ good?” A hint of surprise seemed to flash in his eyes. Or perhaps I was mistaken. He was utterly indifferent, expressionless: “Are you stalking me?” My heart felt heavy, suffocated, like a thick, wet towel pressed against it, stealing my breath. “Why would I need to stalk you?” “Your sweet photos with her are all over the company SnapChat group!” My chest heaved uncontrollably: “Julian, if you want to break up, just say so. You don’t need to lie to me like this!” Julian’s expression didn’t even change, calm as an outsider. “If you don’t even have basic trust in me, then I have nothing more to say.” “Aurora, I’ve had a long day. I don’t have the energy to argue with you.” No guilt, no explanation. Compared to my frantic state, he was so composed. He even remembered to place the paper bag in his hand steadily on the table. The words ‘Ever After’ on the paper bag were like icy daggers, plunging straight into my heart. All the emotions I’d suppressed for so long, mixed with a tidal wave of resentment, crashed down on me. Finally, it snapped the last thread of my sanity. I snatched the paper bag in a fit of rage, smashing it to the floor. It wasn’t sealed. The contents tumbled out, vying for release. Making a few soft thuds. I didn’t even look, just stared at Julian, my eyes red-rimmed. We met gazes, a silent standoff. After a long moment, he slammed the door and left. I stood there, stiff as a statue. Until something rolled to my feet. I looked down, startled. Chocolates. Handmade chocolates, scattered all over the floor.

I still caved. I wanted to talk to him properly. But for three whole days, Julian didn’t answer my calls and didn’t come home. Swallowing my hurt, I sent him a message. “It was wrong of me to lose my temper without communicating first.” “But it’s also true that you said you were working late but went to the movies with her.” “Tonight is our six-year anniversary. I’ll be waiting for you at home.” “Can we sit down and talk, please?” But I waited from morning till night, and he didn’t come back. As it approached eleven, I made up my mind to go to his office. On the way, I ran into Mr. Henderson, the department head Julian had fired because of Cassie. He grabbed me and dragged me into the shadows: “Damn it, I can’t go after *her*, but you’re fair game!” Repeated unanswered calls to my private number, desperate, hopeless cries for help. If a passerby hadn’t intervened and scared him off, my injuries wouldn’t have been limited to just a swollen, bruised face. When my phone suddenly rang. Like a startled bird, I let out a short, sharp scream. Seeing the name on the screen, my entire back, which I’d kept rigid all night, instantly collapsed. I almost cried out, a cry of pure relief: “Jul—” “Hello?” Cassie’s sweet, innocent voice purred: “Julian’s in the shower~” “I saw you called several times.” “May I ask who this is, and what’s the matter?” My throat felt like it was stuffed with burning coals. The raw, throbbing flesh felt seared, utterly ravaged. It hurt so much I wanted to tear out my own vocal cords. Hanging up the phone, such a simple act, seemed to drain all my strength. I limped, utterly humiliated, to the police station to report the assault. When everything was finally over, and my alarm clock read 00:01 the next day. I finally received a call from Julian. His tone was still so arrogant: “Realize your mistake?” I instantly understood, he had done it on purpose. All those unanswered calls on our “anniversary.” They were his punishment for my “lack of trust” in him. Tears streamed down my swollen face, burning like acid on an open wound. When I spoke, my voice was a raw, rasping whisper. I said, “Julian, let’s break up.” The other end of the line was silent for just one second. Julian scoffed, “Fine. Don’t regret it.” He hung up without hesitation. Agreeing to the breakup without a second thought.

At first, I just found it hard to sleep. I couldn’t help but repeatedly replay the details of our time together. I was terrified I’d misjudged him, condemned him unfairly. I started going back through our SnapChat messages again and again. But the more I looked, the sadder I became, the more resentful. I started to hate Julian. Six years, a whole six years. I hated that he’d discarded me so casually, like I was trash. At four in the morning, I painfully deleted all his accounts. I got up, and in a fit of anger, gathered all his belongings. Shoved them into a large trash bag and slammed it into the dumpster downstairs. After all that, I expected to feel relieved. But it was like painstakingly killing a mosquito that had been tormenting me, only to find it was my own blood that splattered. I went to work on time, as if nothing had happened. But only I knew that a huge chunk of my heart had been ripped out. That part of me had once belonged to Julian, but it had festered. To survive, I’d surgically removed that dead, rotting piece of my heart. But I forgot that if the wound was too big, a person couldn’t survive. The emotions came crashing back completely when I saw him at a company meeting. Julian was still unfazed, composed, and utterly in control. He looked even more vibrant, more confident. As if losing me had had absolutely no impact on him. Cassie Davies, thinking she was subtle, met his gaze, her face flushing slightly. I started having sleepless nights, throwing up everything I ate. Julian didn’t use social media. So I obsessively stalked Cassie’s social media accounts. Analyzing every signature, every post related to Julian. Until I fainted from low blood sugar at work and was rushed to the hospital. Julian deigned to visit me at the hospital. It was the twenty-ninth day since our breakup. He idly twirled our matching couple’s ring on his finger: “Aurora, you’ve lost weight.” My gaze was blank, and I spoke mechanically. “I’m sorry.” Julian offered a triumphant smile. We got back together. They say, “better a sharp sting than a slow bleed.” But that doesn’t apply to everyone.

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I uncovered Julian’s secret. There was a stunningly beautiful woman locked away in his house. Right now, I was peering through the crack of a door, watching him repeatedly whip her delicate body. The woman whimpered in low, choked sobs, but Julian showed no signs of stopping. In the dim light, the floor was mottled with bloodstains. “Please, just kill me. Let me go,” the woman pleaded, lifting a blood-smeared face, her eyes vacant as she stared at Julian. Julian sneered, grabbing her hair and slamming his fist into her face. 0 I recoiled in horror, stepping back and kicking a bottle. At that exact moment, Julian whipped his head around, his dark eyes fixating on where I was. Luckily, I had already ducked into a closet, so he didn’t see me. Julian pushed the door open and walked out. His profile was chillingly grim. I hid in the closet, barely daring to breathe. Julian slowly turned his head, and I saw his gaze linger on my hiding spot. My heart hammered against my ribs. Thankfully, Julian only looked for a few seconds before moving his eyes and walking back inside. This time, I heard him lock the door. From inside, the woman’s terrified screams erupted. I didn’t dare come out, trembling in my hiding place. Fifteen minutes later, Julian emerged. I watched his every move through the gap in the closet door. Julian coolly lit a cigarette. Then, with a look of pure disgust and indifference, he stripped off his clothes, revealing the toned physique that once made my heart race. He went upstairs. He also locked the basement door. I was trapped in the basement by Julian. Only when the sounds from upstairs completely faded did I crawl out of the closet. Today was our hundred-day anniversary. I had planned to surprise Julian by sneaking into his house early, but I never imagined I’d stumble upon such a horrifying scene. I was utterly terrified. I wanted to go in and check on the woman’s injuries, but the door was securely fastened with a heavy lock. The woman was still alive. I could hear faint moans. Lowering my voice, I whispered through the door, “Don’t worry, I’ll call the police and get you out.” The moans from inside instantly ceased. Clearly, the person inside was shocked by my presence. Then, broken, hesitant words came from within. “No…don’t call the police.” I didn’t understand. Why couldn’t I call the police? Even though I still loved Julian, this was clearly illegal confinement. I knelt down and peered through the door crack. I saw a pair of dark, bloodshot eyes. The woman was also lying on the floor, staring directly at me. “You’re his…girlfriend?” the woman said with effort. I nervously mumbled, “Yeah.” The woman continued with difficulty, “I know where he keeps the keys here. They’re in that red bucket over there, there’s a spare key.” Following the woman’s instructions, I went to a red metal bucket. Sure enough, I found a key. And many burnt photos. I picked up the key and these photos, almost all burned in half. The pictures were gruesome. They showed the horrific states of various women before they died, along with severed limbs. “Your boyfriend is a sick serial killer,” the woman’s voice came from inside the room. 0

I didn’t want to believe Julian was a murderer. He was always so nice, and his smile was incredibly charming. We first met at a coffee shop. Sunlight had spilled onto Julian’s almost translucent face, and on a whim, I walked up and asked for his SnapChat. As a boyfriend, Julian was attentive to my every need. But now, the stark evidence lay before me. The woman’s voice was hoarse and grating, like sandpaper. “He likes to date young girls, play the perfect boyfriend, then trap his prey here and slowly torture them to death.” “I don’t think I’ll last much longer. He’s already getting bored with me. You’re his next victim.” “It’s Sunday night. He has his regular Sunday evening church service. You can use this time to escape.” “Any later…and you won’t get out. Have you ever heard the fairy tale of Bluebeard?” I had heard the story of Bluebeard. Duke Bluebeard married a new bride and told her not to go into the innermost room, handing her the key. But the bride couldn’t suppress her curiosity and entered the room. She saw several hanging corpses – Bluebeard’s previous wives. The bride was terrified, dropping the key into blood, but she could never wash it clean. 0 The woman let out a strange laugh. “He’s marked this door. Once you’ve been here, he’ll know the moment he sees you.” I instinctively looked down at my hand. There was a deep blue mark, strikingly obvious. I tried to wipe it off with my clothes, but it had no effect at all. “You’re probably trying to wipe off that mark, just like I was. It’s useless.” “It’s methylene blue, used for cell staining. There’s no way to get that mark off for at least a week,” the woman said with difficulty. I started to panic. “Why can’t I call the police?” I asked. At the mention of “police,” the woman’s voice suddenly became agitated and fragmented. “No, absolutely not! If you call the police, we’ll both die!” Just then, I heard a sound from upstairs. It sounded like a car pulling into the driveway.

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On our wedding anniversary. I aborted the child of Damian Thorne’s beloved. As revenge, he had me brutally attacked, leaving my left eye permanently damaged and my right hand crippled, shattering every dream I ever had. Tears streamed down my face, but a bitter laugh still bubbled up as I systematically dismantled the business empire he’d painstakingly built for that woman. I thought we’d be entangled in this game of vengeance until death. But then, he threw a divorce agreement at me. “Scarlett Reed’s embryo transplant was successful. I owe her a name, so let’s call a truce.” “Now, you have two paths before you.” “One, burn to death with me here.” “Two, sign the papers and get out of my life.” The expensive carpet was burning, and the thick smoke stung my eyes. Damian Thorne glared at me, his eyes blazing crimson. He never expected that even in such a desperate situation, I could still smile. “What’s wrong with you? Sign the papers, and I’ll let you go!” I was just laughing at how naive he was. “I can go, but you can’t.” I walked to the floor-to-ceiling window, looking at the fire trucks below. With my left eye’s vision damaged, the smoke made my eyes ache. But the more it hurt, the crazier my heart became. The fire sprinklers on the ceiling began to spray a fine mist, precisely extinguishing the flames around us, yet perfectly avoiding the precious documents and servers that were still burning fiercely. The fire was neither too big nor too small—just enough to cause maximum damage without truly spiraling out of control. The ferocity on Damian Thorne’s face froze. He hadn’t expected this, had he? I personally oversaw the design of this building. My intention was always to build him a cage. And today, it served its purpose. I walked toward him, step by step, forcing him back to the charred office desk. “Now, I’m giving you two choices.” My voice was soft, yet it cut like a poisoned blade. “One, you sign this equity transfer agreement and return everything you stole from me.” “Two…” I paused, tilting my head, my smile innocent and cruel. “Before that embryo was implanted, I added a little gift for you both. I think you’ll like it.” I leaned close to his ear, speaking in a voice only we could hear, every word distinct. “I injected that embryo with a little genetic virus. I wonder if the child, when it’s born, will be deformed, or perhaps mentally ill?” “You’re insane!” Damian Thorne’s voice cracked as he roared, his eyes so red they looked like they would bleed. His body swayed as he lunged forward, probably too much blood loss, unable to stand steady. I sidestepped him, watching his weak, impotent rage, and the sweet, intoxicating taste of revenge finally bloomed in my heart. “I’m insane? Damian Thorne, you’re the one who drove me mad.” “You’re the one who threw me into the mud, destroying everything I had.” “Now it’s my turn. I invite you and your Scarlett Reed to take a good tour of my hell.” His cell phone began to ring frantically in his pocket. It was Scarlett calling. Damian Thorne’s hands trembled as he answered, putting it on speaker. As soon as the call connected, Scarlett’s almost inhuman wails filled the speaker. “Damian! Save me! Sera Blackwood is a maniac! She’s trying to harm our baby! She’s not human! She’s a devil!” Mixed with her cries was another sound. Tick-tock… Tick-tock… One beat after another, cold and rhythmic, tapping on the heart. Damian Thorne’s face went white. “Scarlett, what is that?” “It’s… it’s something Sera sent! A metronome! It’s been ticking by my bedside, and I can’t turn it off! I’m going crazy! Damian, please come quickly! Boo-hoo-hoo, please hurry!” I snatched the phone from his hand, and with my crippled right hand, finger by painstaking finger, I typed out a few keys. In Scarlett’s hospital room, the speakers turned on. The sound of a piano, not a melody, but shattered, sharp noise, abruptly filled the entire space. It was the first time I’d touched the piano keys since my hand was crippled. Every note, my blood, my hatred. “Ah!”

Scarlett’s scream escalated to its peak, then abruptly cut off, as if someone had choked her. “What are you doing! What exactly do you want!” Watching the grim expression on his face, his eyes brimming with tears. Besides a surge of pleasure, a pang of sorrow hit me, and tears fell without warning. “What else could it be? You crippled my hand and eye. I’m just giving you an eye for an eye.” “Ah!” “Listen, isn’t it beautiful? Every joint in her fingers must be breaking.” Watching his pupils constrict violently, my smile grew even wider. Damian Thorne’s breathing hitched. His self-proclaimed calm and composure shattered completely at that moment. “Sera! If you dare touch that child or Scarlett, I will kill you!” He lunged at me like a mad beast. But he forgot, the price of crippling my right hand was that I learned to use my left. In my left hand, I held a sharp surgical knife. A cold glint flashed. The hand he reached for me was sliced open, a wound deep enough to expose bone. Blood dripped. I licked my lips, pressing the knife tip against his heart. “Don’t get too excited, Damian.” “Murder is illegal. I wouldn’t want to dirty my hands.” Listening to the woman’s desperate cries from the phone, Damian Thorne’s spine seemed to crumble, but he was restrained, only able to stare, impotently furious, before finally dropping to his knees before me. I curled my lips, cut the call, and casually tossed the phone back to him. “Go on, go be with your precious darling.” “But you’d better hurry. I’m afraid she’ll lose her mind after hearing this ‘music’.” The sirens outside were getting closer. I didn’t look at him again, turning to walk towards the elevator that belonged only to me. “Damian Thorne, do you like this ‘return gift’?” The elevator doors slowly closed. Through the gap, I saw his face, contorted with rage and terror. He thought this fire was the end. No, this was just the beginning. I returned to the old Blackwood estate. This was the last place my parents left for me, and it was my fortress of revenge. After washing up and changing into clean clothes, I sat down at my mother’s old vanity. The woman in the mirror had a face as pale as death, only her eyes shone with a terrifying intensity. I twisted open a lipstick and applied the fiercest shade of red. Damian Thorne, you crippled my hand and eye. From the moment you kept a mistress, trampled our years of affection, and ruined my life, you deserved my hatred. I will carve into everything you hold most dear.

Damian Thorne rushed into the hospital like a madman, only to find chaos. Outside Scarlett Reed’s private room, a swarm of reporters crowded. A horde of reporters, armed with cameras and microphones, were all aimed at the door, their questions more aggressive than the last. “Ms. Reed, what exactly is your relationship with Mr. Thorne? Is the child you’re carrying really his?” “We all know Ms. Blackwood is the legitimate Mrs. Thorne. Are you the other woman, breaking up their marriage?” “Rumors say you faked a car accident and miscarriage to frame Mrs. Thorne, just to marry into wealth. Is that true?” Damian Thorne’s bodyguards struggled to hold them back, but it was no use. He finally squeezed into the room, and Scarlett, as if she’d seen her savior, burst into tears and threw herself into his arms. “Damian, what are they all talking about? I’m so scared…” Her face was ghostly pale, her body trembling uncontrollably. The metronome was still ticking on the bedside table, persistently sounding. Tick-tock, tick-tock. Like a death knell, pounding on both their hearts. Damian Thorne, furious, swept the metronome to the floor, smashing it to pieces. But that damned piano music then blasted from the room’s speakers again. Like a vengeful ghost, it was inescapable, clinging to them. “Sera Blackwood!” Damian Thorne gritted his teeth, looking like he wanted to rip me apart. Only then did he realize that the background music throughout the entire VIP floor had been replaced with my ‘masterpiece’. He tried to turn it off, but found the central control system locked by me. He wanted to transfer Scarlett to another hospital, but the director, with a troubled expression, told him that due to “unexpected” circuit maintenance, all elevators were out of service. And Scarlett, having just undergone embryo transplantation, was too frail to endure such a commotion. They were trapped here. Trapped in the musical hell I had created for them. “Damian, I’m so scared…” Scarlett trembled even more. “Our baby… he’ll be fine, right?” Damian Thorne held her, his voice dry and hoarse. “He’ll be fine, Scarlett, don’t believe that lunatic’s words, she’s just trying to scare us.” He offered comforting words, but the seeds of doubt and fear I’d planted were already taking root in his mind. He immediately called Dr. Miller, who had performed Scarlett’s surgery. Dr. Miller was a student my mother had sponsored during her lifetime, and he was loyal to me. Following my prior instructions, he told Damian Thorne with a troubled expression: “Mr. Thorne, I’m truly sorry, but before the lab results are in, according to regulations, I cannot guarantee you anything.” “What do you mean?” “It means that, medically speaking, there is indeed a possibility of embryo contamination before implantation.” Damian Thorne’s heart sank. He looked at Scarlett’s tear-streaked face, his eyes filled with pain. “Don’t worry, I’ll make her pay for this.” Meanwhile, I was comfortably seated in the living room of the old estate, enjoying the hospital drama unfolding on the tablet Mr. Davies handed me. I raised my wine glass, making a silent toast to Damian Thorne on the screen. “Don’t rush. This is just the beginning.” “The pain you made me suffer, I will return to you a thousandfold.” My phone rang. It was Damian Thorne. His voice was tightly controlled, like a volcano about to erupt. “Sera Blackwood, where are you? Get out here! We need to talk!” I smiled. “Alright.” “Come to the Blackwood estate. I’ll be waiting.” “I’d like to see what right you have to talk to me now.”

Damian Thorne arrived, radiating fury, like a trapped beast. He kicked open the front door, his crimson eyes scanning the living room for my presence. “Sera Blackwood!” I was sitting on the second-floor balcony, leisurely sipping afternoon tea. “Damian Thorne, after so many years away, have you forgotten even basic manners?” He looked up, and the moment he saw me, all his rage transformed into palpable killing intent. “Sera Blackwood! What exactly do you want?” I put down my teacup and slowly walked to the railing, looking down at him. “I don’t want anything. I just want to take back what’s mine.” He let out a scoff, as if he’d heard the biggest joke. “Your things? Sera, everything you have was given to you by me! What do you possess? Without me, you’d be nothing but ash, just like your dead parents!” “How can you do this to me? Aren’t you afraid of karma?” He thought that sentence would pierce me. But he didn’t know that for all these years, hatred was the only thing that kept me alive. I laughed, tears almost streaming down my face. “Given by you? Damian Thorne, you really have the audacity to say that.” “This business empire, your so-called Thorne Group—every single brick bears my mother’s name.” “If karma truly exists, it should be reflected on you, shouldn’t it? Have you forgotten? You’re the one who caused my parents’ death!” Damian Thorne’s expression froze. “You… what nonsense are you talking about?” “Nonsense, you say?” I turned, retrieved a document from the study behind me, and tossed it down. The papers scattered across the floor, landing at his feet. “Open your eyes and truly see!” “The core technology of the Thorne Group, that biological patent that made you a rising star in the business world—whose name is on that patent!” Damian Thorne stiffly bent down and picked up one of the papers. On it, in black and white, the signature of the patent owner was my mother—Evelyn Blackwood. His pupils constricted violently. “Why do you think my parents had that car accident? Why were you so eager to take over the company right after their deaths?” Watching Damian Thorne’s face turn even paler, I curled my lips. I descended the stairs step by step, closing in on him, the hatred in my eyes almost burning him to ashes. “You bribed our driver, faked an accident, and killed my parents. You pretended to comfort me, tricked me into trusting you, and seized control of the company.” “You drained my family’s assets, using my mother’s patent to build your own empire! Damian Thorne, you owe the Blackwood family two lives! It’s a debt of blood you’ll never repay in this lifetime!” “The evidence I have is enough to put you in prison for life.” He was forced to collapse to the ground, trembling uncontrollably, unable to utter a single word. All these secrets he thought were buried deep, I had brutally exposed.

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My sister, Seraphina, and I were married into the Phoenix Clan at the same time, and by a twist of fate, we also conceived at the same time. Seraphina gave birth to a pure-blood, golden-feathered phoenix. The First Prince, Valerius, whom she married, was immediately proclaimed the next ruler of the Phoenix Clan. But I… I birthed a patchy-feathered chick, cursed as an ill omen. My husband, the Second Prince Kaelen, was implicated, tortured, and died. It was only after my death that I learned the truth: that chick was clearly *hers*! It was all a sinister plot orchestrated by her and the First Prince. Their goal? To conceal the First Prince’s true lineage and usurp the Phoenix throne. Then, I opened my eyes again. I was back. Back to the time before I gave birth, with Seraphina arriving, laden with tonics, to ‘visit’ me… “Ever since I got pregnant, I’ve had to sleep in the room by the Sacred Emberwood. Otherwise, I just can’t fall asleep. Sometimes, colorful birds and magpies gather around me, chirping incessantly. It must be this little one in my belly acting up,” Seraphina simpered, feigning annoyance, stroking her belly and droning on about all the “unusual occurrences” around her since she became pregnant. Watching Seraphina, I knew. I had been reborn. A mongrel egg, nested by the Sacred Emberwood? Surrounded by magpies? What a sick joke. But I wasn’t about to expose her lies right then and there. She’d been weaving this web of deceit since the start of her pregnancy; I wouldn’t unravel it with just a few words. I offered a small smile. “All these strange phenomena around you, Seraphina, could it be you’re carrying a tiny phoenix?” At my words, Seraphina’s face lit up with a beaming smile. But all I could feel was the venomous malice festering behind that smile. Seraphina and I were both legitimate daughters of the Azure Avian Kin, yet I was unloved by my father, Lord Alaric, and scorned by my mother, Lorelei. Mother blamed me for not being a son, for her losing Father’s favor, pouring all her affection onto Seraphina instead. Growing up, only Seraphina would occasionally check on me. She was the only one I felt close to. We married into the Phoenix Clan together. She wed Valerius, the gentle and refined First Prince, while I married Kaelen, the brave and formidable Second Prince. And we both became pregnant at the same time. So, when she came to visit me, bearing tonics, and then invited me to Silverwood Manor for a change of scenery, I suspected nothing. But little did I know, it was the beginning of my nightmare. In my past life, only after my own agonizing death did I discover the horrific truth: my husband’s and my tragic end was all Seraphina’s and the First Prince’s doing. Valerius was the result of Queen Regina’s illicit affair, a mongrel born of infidelity. Naturally, the egg Seraphina carried was also a mongrel egg. King Theron was aging, desperate to see a pure-blood Phoenix egg hatch before his death. He decreed that all newly laid eggs be brought to the Royal Palace for incubation. Valerius, terrified his true lineage would be exposed, knew discovery meant certain death. And if Valerius died, Seraphina would not only lose her esteemed status as First Princess but also be banished back to the Azure Avian Kin. No matter what, Seraphina’s offspring *had* to be a pure-blood egg. That’s when Seraphina and Valerius set their sights on me. They conspired with Queen Regina. While I was exhausted from labor, they drugged me, then swapped my pure-blood golden Phoenix egg for theirs. Had I not overheard it myself after my death, I would never have believed my own sister, the one I grew up with, capable of such betrayal! To cover their monstrous secret, after swapping my egg, they slandered me, claiming I’d birthed an ominous commonfowl egg, and threw me into the dungeons. My husband, Kaelen, used his military merits to free me, only to have King Theron question *his* lineage. He was tortured to death. But Seraphina wasn’t done with me. She deliberately sought me out, sneering, “You truly are a jinx, just as Mother always said! At home, you caused Mother to lose favor. Married, you brought about your husband’s torture and death. What good are you alive? You might as well just die!” After her cruel words, she summoned the guards and had me thrown into the Demon Lands, where I was dismembered and brutally murdered. Now, seeing Seraphina’s smug, triumphant smile, I forcefully suppressed the tidal wave of hatred surging within me. This time, I swore, I would protect my child. And they would pay!

We’d just arrived at the manor today, and I wouldn’t go into labor until the third day. There was still time. Without a sound, I crushed the jade pendant Kaelen had given me. It held a wisp of his spiritual essence; crushing it would alert him to my distress. In my previous life, when my labor began, I should have sent for Kaelen. Because as the flames of birth flared around me, I finally knew: I was carrying a golden Phoenix. A golden Phoenix born to an outsider like me required the Phoenix Clan’s divine power for protection, lest the mother’s body be scorched by the egg’s fierce flames. But Seraphina and Queen Regina wouldn’t allow me to send for anyone. They earnestly pleaded, “The Second Prince is at a crucial point, fighting back the Demonkin! We can’t distract him. Just set up a screen, and let the First Prince protect you with his magic.” Kaelen’s mother had been an unremarkable concubine. His current standing was solely built on his hard-won military achievements, earned through countless battles. If my labor forced him to withdraw from the battlefield, it would indeed damage his reputation. So, I foolishly trusted their words and didn’t send for my husband. This meant I was surrounded only by Queen Regina’s maids and midwives. During labor, Queen Regina seized full control, silently swapping out my egg. This life, I wouldn’t let them have their way! With the jade pendant crushed, I ordered my maids to pack our things. I needed to get out of there, back to the Royal Palace, *now*. The palace was my territory. There, I could contact other Phoenix Clan royals who supported Kaelen. Kaelen could arrive by the next day. By then, no matter how Queen Regina tried to interfere, it would be futile. Seraphina saw me packing and instantly panicked. She rushed to block my path. “Little sister, you just arrived! Why the hurry to leave?” I subtly pushed her hand away, smiling. “I just remembered, Kaelen’s mother has a medical consultation today. She hasn’t been well lately, and as her daughter-in-law, it’s my duty to be there for her. It saves Kaelen from worrying about domestic matters while he’s on the battlefield.” Seraphina tried to dissuade me. “Just a day or two won’t hurt! Queen Regina herself is here. Is Kaelen’s mother more important than the Queen?” Queen Regina being here only meant one thing: she was planning to swap my egg! A cold sneer twisted my lips. I signaled my maids to guard me, ignored Seraphina, and headed straight for the carriage. Just then, Queen Regina’s enraged voice bellowed from behind us. “Second Princess, what’s with the sudden rush to leave? Are you perhaps tired of an old mother like me?” I suppressed my rising anxiety, offering a polite smile. “Your Majesty, you’re overthinking things.” Despite her words, I persisted in leaving. Everyone in the Phoenix Clan knew Queen Regina and the Second Prince were at odds. King Theron, due to the Second Prince’s immense military achievements, simply turned a blind eye to it. As my maids helped me, just as I was about to step into the carriage, Valerius rushed up, breathless. He called out loudly, “Sister-in-law, wait! There’s a demon uprising ahead. It’s too dangerous to leave!” My fists clenched. My chest heaved with fury. In my past life, there had been no such “demon uprising.” They actually *instigated* a demon disturbance within the Phoenix Clan’s borders, just to stop me! Despicable! “Ah!” Seraphina shrieked, clamping a hand over her mouth. Her other hand trembled as she pointed at my abdomen. “Blood-fire…” I followed her gaze, and my breath caught in my throat. It was time. I was going into labor! Perhaps my intense emotional upheaval had triggered premature labor. Seeing this, all three of their faces lit up with malicious glee. Queen Regina’s expression instantly softened, becoming sickly sweet. She personally came forward to support me, intending to lead me back to the manor. But I refused. I’d been granted this second chance! How could I possibly let my child fall into their hands again? I *had* to go back. I *had* to wait for Kaelen. “Your Majesty, I cannot give birth in a strange place! I must return to the palace! A mere demon horde is no match for my guards!” I grit my teeth against the pain, gesturing for my maids and guards to protect me. Seraphina and Valerius exchanged a look, then subtly signaled Queen Regina. Queen Regina’s voice turned sharp and menacing. “Don’t listen to the Second Princess! She’s about to give birth. If anything happens on the road, not only will I not spare you, but even King Theron will hold you accountable!”

Caught between a demon uprising ahead, Queen Regina’s threats behind, and my imminent labor, my options were dwindling fast. My maids and guards all hesitated. Queen Regina beckoned her attendants, intending to force me into the Sacred Emberwood Treehouse prepared at the manor. My guards stepped forward to block them. While unsure whether to retreat or advance, these were seasoned veterans from the battlefield, loyal only to Kaelen and me. But then, a fiery aura pulsed violently from my abdomen, growing even larger and more intense. I screamed, wracked with searing pain. My agonizing scream startled my maids and guards. They quickly surrounded me and hurried me into the manor. Behind me, Queen Regina murmured gleefully, “Born amidst fierce flames, it must be a phoenix! And conveniently, the manor has a Sacred Emberwood Treehouse. Take her there to await the birth!” Seraphina’s eyes darted around. She subtly cast a spell to induce her own labor, then shrieked “Ah!” herself, her face contorted in “pain,” claiming she was also going into labor. “What do we do? There’s only one Sacred Emberwood Treehouse in the manor!” Valerius fretted, holding her, feigning distress. Giving birth to a commonfowl egg didn’t require a Sacred Emberwood! They were clearly trying to use this as an excuse to swap my child! Cold sweat plastered my skin as searing pain threatened to overwhelm my sanity. I could only order my maids to surround me entirely with screens, ensuring no contact with Seraphina and preventing Queen Regina from bringing anyone inside. With my guards positioned outside the screens, a flicker of calm returned to me. I desperately poured my magic into the egg, urging my precious hatchling to hold on, to wait until its father arrived before coming into the world! But before I could even catch my breath, Queen Regina’s shrill voice pierced through the screens. “What impropriety is this, allowing guards inside? Get out, all of you! Standing guard outside is perfectly adequate!” My guards stood firm, refusing to yield. Seraphina, however, declared she was afraid of so many people in the room. Soon after, sounds of a struggle erupted from beyond the screens. I bit down hard on my lip, a thin trickle of blood escaping the corner of my mouth. My voice, though strained by pain, was sharp with fury. “What are you doing to my guards?!” Queen Regina swept past the screens, her smile sickeningly sweet. “Your sister is also giving birth in here! How can we have so many crude men around?” Then her tone shifted, becoming deceptively reassuring. “Kaelen isn’t here, and this is an emergency. I’ll just have Valerius perform the protective ritual for both you and your sister.” It happened just like this in my previous life. Queen Regina claimed Valerius would perform the ritual from behind the screen. I was in such agony, practically delirious, that I didn’t think twice. Desperate to protect my child, I agreed. Not long after, they cast a spell on me, and I blacked out. When I woke, all I had was a patchy-feathered commonfowl egg. But during my labor, I’d been engulfed in furious flames—a clear sign of a phoenix’s birth! How could it possibly have been a commonfowl egg? Queen Regina, however, declared I was hallucinating, that I refused to accept my ominous birth, and had gone mad. King Theron, in a rage, had me thrown into the dungeons. Recalling the horrors of my past life, I knew that if Valerius performed that ritual, I’d be utterly at their mercy! “Not even through a screen! I refuse to be touched by any other man! I’ve already alerted my husband; I will wait for *him*!” The room fell silent for a moment, save for my uncontrollable groans of agony. Queen Regina immediately snapped, “Why are you being so unreasonable? At a critical moment like this, you care about such trivialities? If you fail to deliver this child, it will be a grave sin!” Valerius, from behind the screen, said, “Sister-in-law, I won’t be able to see you. Just let me perform the protective ritual for you.” Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the hem of the First Prince’s robe slip past the screen, about to enter the room. Panic seized me. I reached out, desperate to grab a maid’s hand. But already, furious flames were spreading around me, pushing everyone else back. Queen Regina barked for all “unnecessary personnel” to leave. My maids, by now, had clearly caught on. They stubbornly refused to budge. “Get out, you useless wenches!” Queen Regina shrieked, ordering her guards to drag my maids out and beat them mercilessly. Valerius, along with another person, stepped past the screens and entered. That person held a box. Clearly, Seraphina had already “given birth” to her commonfowl egg, and they were just waiting to swap it for mine! As the two of them drew closer, I felt a chilling despair seep into my bones, even as furious flames scorched my body. My hope was rapidly turning to ash. Was I truly fated to fall into their wicked hands once more, even after being granted a second chance? “Stop!” Just as Valerius and his accomplice closed in, a calm, powerful voice rang out from outside the room. The faces of those in the room froze. Before they could even react, Kaelen burst through the door. My husband had come back for me!

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I’m a good girl. My husband told me not to be so clingy, to go out and ‘explore’ other guys. So, like the good girl I am, I went out and ‘explored’ three. Eventually, all three of them wanted to make things official. So, I, like the good girl I am, went to Julian to ask for a divorce. But Julian said he’d fallen in love with me and refused to divorce, no matter what. He cried while washing my clothes: “You can bring them home! We can all live together, but divorce? Absolutely not!” So, I listened to Julian and didn’t divorce him. And I brought all three of them home. I’m just a good girl. What did I do wrong? Seven years of loving Julian, and I finally married him. Just as I was overjoyed, ready to be the perfect wife, Julian cheated. He and a popular young actress, Vivian, went viral on Ins, caught in a kiss. Looking at the photos, I felt struck by lightning. I cried and went to confront him. But he snapped at me impatiently: “Anya, don’t you have anything better to do? Is it really that interesting to obsess over me all day? Look, why don’t you go find yourself a guy too? Just stop bothering me, okay?” I stared at Julian. What he said was terrifying! How could I just go out and find a random guy? But I’ve always been a good girl. So, I found Julian’s best friend, Caleb.

Caleb, one of the most respected and enigmatic figures in the city’s elite. Rumor had it he was incredibly disciplined, practically ascetic, always wearing a string of dark, polished beads around his wrist, never showing interest in women. My hands trembled as I messaged him, typing and deleting words over and over. Finally, I just sent one line: “Mr. Caleb, are you free to meet? Julian told me… to ‘have some fun’ with someone else.” After sending it, I threw my phone far away, my cheeks burning. Julian’s best friend shouldn’t count as just a ‘random guy,’ right? I just wondered if he’d agree… Unexpectedly, my phone vibrated almost immediately. Just one word: “Okay.” The location was a very secluded, high-end lounge. When I arrived, Caleb was already there. He sat by the window, the afternoon sun streaming through the ornate windowpanes, bathing his handsome, refined face, only adding to his icy, almost ethereal allure. His long fingers held a cup of clear tea, wisps of steam blurring his strikingly perfect features. The air was filled with the calming scent of sandalwood mixed with tea. I was so nervous I almost walked in lockstep, sitting down opposite him, my throat dry. All the words I’d prepared vanished. He looked up at me, his gaze as still as water, calm and unruffled, the beads on his wrist gleaming softly. “He sent you?” Caleb asked, pouring me a cup of tea. His voice was just as captivating, clear and crisp, like fresh spring water. I twisted my fingers, looking down, my nose suddenly stinging. I nodded hard. “M-hm.” Silence stretched, thick with the scent of tea. Just as I was about to bolt, feeling like I couldn’t sit still another second, he gently set down his teacup and looked at me: “This ‘having some fun’ you mentioned… what exactly did you have in mind?”

Caleb, for all his icy, ascetic appearance, absolutely drove me wild, pushing me to my limits. “I really can’t anymore, ugh…” I collapsed, exhausted, onto Caleb, burying my face in his firm, muscular chest, my body trembling. Caleb’s thumb gently wiped away the involuntary tears that welled in my eyes, coaxing me, “Okay, okay, just one more box, then I’ll let you off the hook.” Hearing Caleb’s tender voice, I looked up through tear-filled eyes at the headboard. On the box resting there, it clearly read: “12 Extra Large.” I then looked down at the wastebasket, where five used ones lay. That meant there were still… “W-waah, you jerk!” I cried even harder.

Caleb often left me with aching back and shaky legs. Eventually, I couldn’t take it anymore and secretly went to see Dr. Albright. As Dr. Albright took my pulse, his brow furrowed deeper and deeper, finally sighing, “My dear, you need to slow down on your activities and rest for a while, otherwise, this intense activity is seriously depleting your energy and could lead to long-term health issues.” Me: !!! What?! Too much activity could seriously mess with my health?! I was terrified and didn’t dare go near Caleb again. But if I didn’t go to him, he came to me. He actually came directly to the house Julian and I shared! When the doorbell rang, I was curled up on the sofa watching a reality show, assuming Julian had gone out and forgotten his keys, so I just opened the door. Seeing Caleb standing there, I nearly slammed the door in his face! “Y-you, what are you doing here?” My voice trembled, and I instinctively tried to close the door. Caleb put his hand against the doorframe. The force wasn’t immense, but it kept me from moving it an inch. His gaze fell on my panicked face, and he asked, “Why haven’t you come to ‘play’ with me lately?” Play? You play that hard, who’d dare play with you, ugh! “I… I’ve been a bit busy lately,” I mumbled, my eyes darting away as I scrambled for an excuse. “Busy?” Caleb raised an eyebrow slightly, taking a step closer. The clean scent of sandalwood mixed with a hint of pressure washed over me. “Too busy to even answer your phone?” I retreated under his intense gaze, my heart pounding. Dr. Albright’s warning about “depleting my health” echoed frantically in my mind. “Mr. Caleb, I think… what we’re doing isn’t right,” I bravely tried to reason. “That day, I was impulsive. We really should…” “Should what?” he interrupted, his gaze calm but carrying an undeniable intensity. “Julian told you to ‘play,’ remember?” The mention of Julian instantly deflated me, like a popped balloon. He was right, Julian had told me to do this. How could I disobey him? But… I was really scared of getting sick! Just as I was at a loss, Julian’s confused voice came from behind me: “Caleb? What are you doing here?”

Julian hadn’t gone out?! I was scared out of my wits, almost jumping as I spun around, my cheeks burning with the guilt of being caught red-handed. Caleb, however, remained composed, turning to face Julian who was coming down the stairs, his tone flat: “Just passing by, thought I’d drop in and see you. Anya and I were just chatting by the door.” As Caleb spoke, his gaze lingered on me, subtly. My back instantly stiffened. Julian didn’t seem to notice anything amiss. As he descended, he casually remarked, “What’s there to chat about with her? She just idles around the house all day.” Normally, hearing him say that would upset me for ages. But now, my mind was only filled with panic, terrified Caleb would say something shocking. Caleb didn’t respond, just watched me, a fleeting, almost imperceptible smirk playing on his lips. Julian finished tying his shoes and walked over, naturally putting his arm around my waist. He told Caleb, “My brother’s back from overseas. Since you’re here, why don’t we all have dinner tonight? I’ll call Ryder and the others.” My body stiffened, the spot where Julian touched me suddenly burning. He rarely made affectionate gestures towards me in front of others, but today he… Caleb’s gaze rested on Julian’s hand on my waist for a split second, then moved away. He simply replied, “Sounds good.” The dinner reservation was at an incredibly exclusive, members-only restaurant.

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My Brother’s Bride Wanted Me as a ‘Live-in Sister-Duty’… Until I Turned the Tables My brother, Ryan Collins, found himself a wealthy heiress, Tiffany Sterling. She demanded he “move into their family estate,” and I, his older sister, had to come along as part of the “package deal.” I was expected to live in their house, serving as a free assistant for life, all under the sweet-sounding guise of “sibling solidarity.” My mom, Joyce, clutched my hand, tears spilling from her eyes instantly: “Avery, you love your brother the most. Just help him this one time.” “If you go, you two can look out for each other at the Sterling estate, and I’ll rest easy.” My dad, Robert, chimed in, nodding in agreement: “What’s the good of all that education for a girl? You’ll just end up married anyway. Helping your brother out, that’s your real blessing.” Ryan hid behind them, head bowed, not daring to look at me, murmuring: “Sis, Tiffany… she doesn’t mean any harm.” A bitter laugh escaped me, furious at my shameless family. I anonymously posted online. “Forced into ‘Live-in Sister-Duty’ for My Brother’s Wealthy Fiancée – Help! Urgent!” The post immediately shot to the top, and the comment section exploded. One top-rated comment caught my eye: [Say yes! Why wouldn’t you?] [But go through the most formal process, sign the strictest contract, and be the most professional employee!] [Let them know what a modern-day labor rights warrior looks like!]

Just then, the doorbell rang. Ryan darted to open the door: “It must be Tiffany!” The door swung open, and a girl in a Chanel suit, with perfectly applied makeup, walked in. She affectionately linked her arm through Ryan’s, but her eyes scanned me up and down. She was Tiffany Sterling. “Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Collins.” Her sickly sweet voice sent a shiver down my spine. “And this must be Avery? Ryan told me you agreed to come live with us?” “Agreed?” Tiffany shot a glance at Ryan. Ryan looked to my mom. My mom quickly tried to smooth things over: “Oh, Tiffany, don’t misunderstand. Avery already agreed just now.” “She’s just a little shy, she must have said something wrong when she saw you.” “Shy?” Tiffany eyed my faded T-shirt and jeans, letting out a dismissive scoff. “Looks like poor taste to me!” “Ryan, your sister doesn’t look too bright. Don’t let her embarrass me.” My mom and dad’s faces went through a kaleidoscope of emotions, but they didn’t dare utter a single word. Ryan, flushed red, tugged at my sleeve: “Sis, apologize to Tiffany…” I ignored him, pulling my hand free from Tiffany’s grip, and smiled at her beautiful face: “Ms. Sterling is right.” Everyone froze. I continued: “Precisely because my image is unimpressive and I appear unintelligent, a formal employment contract is even more necessary to clearly define responsibilities and rights.” “This is to avoid unnecessary losses to your esteemed company due to my personal shortcomings.” “It’s also to better serve you and Ryan, ensuring the employer’s interests are protected.” Tiffany’s smile stiffened on her face. “Employment contract?” Her voice rose sharply: “Avery Collins, are you crazy from being poor? We’re offering you a spot, you should be grateful!” “No.” I met her gaze directly: “This is a society governed by law. Professional conduct requires professional procedures to ensure it.” “Since this is a special position, a ‘live-in assistant,’ it’s even more important to specify job duties, working hours, salary, benefits, especially worker’s compensation standards, and personal rights protection clauses.” “After all, this job seems to carry no small amount of risk.” You could have heard a pin drop in the living room. Tiffany scoffed, impatiently dialing a number: “Hello, Mr. Miller from Legal? Draft an employment contract for a ‘private assistant’ for me.” “Yes, make it as harsh as possible. Salary… just the city’s minimum wage.” “Also, add a clause: service term, for life.” She hung up and leaned close to me. “Avery Collins, you wanted to play this game. Now, do you dare to sign?” I met Tiffany’s challenging gaze, a subtle smirk playing on my lips, and gave a slow, deliberate nod. “Sure. When do I sign?”

An hour later, a man delivered the contract. He was dressed in a perfectly tailored, high-end black suit, and his face bore a slight resemblance to Tiffany’s, but a hundred times colder. “Seb, why did you come yourself?” Tiffany’s usual sharp edges softened the moment she saw him, and she clung to him docilely. “Dad wasn’t comfortable.” His gaze swept over my parents, finally settling on me. He was Tiffany’s brother, Sebastian Sterling. The true heir to the Sterling Group. And my brother Ryan’s future boss, the one he’d have to grovel to. “Sign it, or get out.” He tossed a file envelope directly at me. “Take a look. If there’s no problem, sign it.” Service term: For life. Working hours: 8 hours. Salary: City’s minimum wage, $1800. Leaking any information about the Sterling family: $100 million compensation. Someone, probably thinking I was as useless as Ryan, had even added a handwritten, domineering clause at the very bottom: Party B voluntarily waives all labor rights granted by law. This wasn’t a contract; it was a modern-day bond of servitude! My mom peered over my shoulder, then abruptly shoved me. “Avery, sign it quickly! Mr. Sterling personally delivered the contract – that’s a huge deal! Don’t be ungrateful!” My dad was just as anxious: “Once you sign, you’ll be part of the Sterling family, no worries about food or clothes. What a great opportunity!” I looked up at Sebastian. He leaned against the wall, hands in his trouser pockets, his eyes filled with undisguised urgency and impatience. “Seb, look at her, she’s so poor and slow, she’s clearly scared to sign.” “Ms. Sterling,” I interrupted her. “I can sign the contract.” I held up the contract, pointing to the very last clause. “However, there’s a small issue here.” Sebastian’s brow furrowed. “‘Party B voluntarily waives all labor rights granted by law.’” “As a professional, Mr. Miller should know that this clause itself is illegal and therefore invalid.” “I suggest removing it to avoid unnecessary legal disputes in the future, which could bring negative publicity and ridicule to the Sterling family.” Tiffany’s eyes widened, completely blindsided by my move. Sebastian straightened up, finally looking at me properly. “You know the law?” “A little.” I said, feigning humility, “After all, I’m an Oxford graduate. Can’t let my alma mater down.” Sebastian stared at me for a full ten seconds. Suddenly, he pulled a Montblanc pen from his inner jacket pocket and crossed out the supplementary clause. “There. It’s done.” He handed me the pen and the contract. Tiffany’s face was as dark as a thundercloud. I took the pen and decisively signed “Avery Collins.” I handed the contract back to Sebastian. “Mr. Sterling, pleasant working with you.” He took the contract, gave me a deep, scrutinizing look, and turned to leave. Tiffany stamped her foot, then hurried after him. The moment the door closed, my mom threw her arms around me, trembling with excitement. “This is wonderful! Avery! Our good days are coming!”

On my first day of work. I strictly followed the netizens’ advice, portraying myself as a “hyper-compliant but utterly clueless” assistant. Tiffany told me to be up at six to await her instructions, and I reported to her room promptly. “Avery Collins, are you a ghost? It’s so early! Don’t you know I sleep until I wake up naturally?” She roared at me, her hair a messy bun. I innocently held up my phone’s memo app. “Ms. Sterling, these were your instructions from yesterday: six o’clock sharp, not a minute more, not a minute less. I’m just demonstrating my professionalism.” She was speechless, rolling her eyes at me. “Get down and prepare breakfast!” “Certainly. Do you have any specific requirements for breakfast?” “Like calorie count, ingredient origin, cooking method…” “Shut up! Just make whatever!” Alright, whatever it is. I prepared a “whatever” breakfast for her: A bowl of plain congee, a plate of boiled cabbage, and two hard-boiled eggs. Next to it, I thoughtfully placed a handwritten nutritional analysis chart. Tiffany’s face went green staring at the sparse and unappetizing meal. “Avery Collins, are you doing this on purpose? Trying to starve me?” “Ms. Sterling, you said ‘whatever’.” “According to the healthy eating pyramid, this is the most scientifically balanced breakfast combination. I’m only looking out for your health.” I spouted nonsense with a perfectly straight face. In the morning, she asked me to polish what was supposedly an antique vase from the last century. I asked: “Do I need any special cleaning agents?” She waved her hand dismissively: “Use your rough hands! If you talk back again, I’ll make you scrub it with a steel wool pad!” “Understood. Message received.” Ten minutes later, Tiffany’s shriek echoed from the study. She pointed at the vase, now covered in scratches and completely devoid of its former luster, trembling all over. “Avery Collins! What did you do to my vase!” I held up the steel wool pad, smiling. “Ms. Sterling, I merely followed your instructions strictly and ‘scrubbed’ it clean with a steel wool pad.” “See? There’s not a speck of dust now.” In the afternoon, she asked me to iron a custom-made silk gown. I again “humbly” inquired: “Ms. Sterling, what temperature should I set the iron to?” “Max! Max heat! Make it perfectly flat! Not a single wrinkle!” She gritted her teeth. “Certainly, mission accomplished.” The result was predictable. That six-figure gown now bore an eternal triangle branded onto the chest area, thanks to my highest-setting iron. Tiffany lost it. She raised her hand, ready to slap me. I didn’t dodge. Her hand was stopped mid-air. Sebastian, who had appeared at the doorway, caught her wrist. “Seb! Let me go! I’m going to tear her apart!” Tiffany pointed at me, crying with rage. “Look at the mess she made! She’s utterly useless!” Sebastian’s gaze shifted from the scorched gown to my face. “What happened?” Tiffany rushed to cry out: “I told her to iron a dress, and she ruined my gown!” “Seb, she did it on purpose! She’s jealous of me!” I lowered my head, whimpering pitifully: “I’m sorry, Mr. Sterling, I just… strictly followed Ms. Sterling’s instructions to set the iron to maximum heat…” “And you dare talk back!” Sebastian’s face grew darker and darker. He released Tiffany and walked towards me. “You’re fired.”

“Fired?” I looked up, meeting Sebastian’s eyes directly. “Mr. Sterling, I’m afraid you can’t unilaterally terminate my employment.” I pulled the neatly folded contract from my pocket and spread it open. “Firstly, my employer is Ms. Sterling.” “Secondly, according to Article 4, Section 3 of the contract, if the employer wishes to terminate the contract early, written notice must be given thirty days in advance, and Party B, which is me, must be paid twelve months’ salary as economic compensation.” I paused, then added: “Additionally, since the contract’s service term is ‘for life,’ it falls under special clauses.” “According to relevant judicial interpretations, early termination in such a case should be regarded as compensation for the loss of my entire professional career.” “Twelve months might not be enough.” Sebastian’s face visibly darkened. Tiffany, even more eager, interjected: “What? Seb! Listen to her! She’s trying to extort us!” “Extortion?” I waved the contract in my hand. “Ms. Sterling, it’s all in black and white. You signed it yourself.” “How can that be extortion? That’s called ‘contractual integrity’.” Sebastian glared at me furiously. He probably hadn’t been defied like this in his entire life, especially not by someone he considered a “maid.” “Fine. You don’t want to leave, do you?” He walked to the sofa, sat down, crossing his legs, his posture casual yet radiating an intimidating presence. “Then stay.” “Tiffany,” He looked at his sister, “Since Ms. Collins is so professional and so eager to keep her job, why don’t you give her more ‘professional’ tasks?” He deliberately emphasized “professional.” “Let her really experience whether working for the Sterling family is worth that $1800 monthly salary.” Tiffany caught on immediately, a malicious grin spreading across her face. “Understood, Seb! I’ll make sure Ms. Collins gets ‘more than her money’s worth’!” The real game, now began. Tiffany’s first move was to make me clean the entire outdoor swimming pool by hand. It was early winter, and the pool water was bone-chilling. “Avery Collins, I want to see your reflection at the bottom of the pool before dark.” “No tools allowed, no draining the water. Just use your hands, scrub it clean, little by little!” Maria, the housekeeper, couldn’t bear to watch and secretly tried to hand me some tools. I shook my head, refusing. Without another word, I took off my shoes and socks, rolled up my pant legs, and stepped directly into the water. The icy pool water enveloped my body, the cold searing from my feet all the way to the crown of my head. I gritted my teeth, using my hands and a single rag to scrub the tiles on the pool walls. Tiffany sat on the second-floor balcony, sipping hot coffee and watching me. I could feel Sebastian’s gaze, too, projected from his study window. All afternoon, I stayed in the water, not saying a single “no.” By the time the sun set, I had finally completed the task. When I climbed out of the pool, I was drenched. My lips were blue with cold, and my entire body was trembling uncontrollably. I walked under the balcony, looking up at Tiffany. “Ms. Sterling, the pool is clean. Please inspect it.” Tiffany, probably not expecting me to actually endure it, paused before curling her lip in disdain. “Fine. You know what’s good for you.” I turned, dragging my stiff body towards the staff quarters. Passing the living room, Sebastian called out to me. “Stop.” I halted. He walked down from upstairs, a clean towel in his hand, and tossed it onto the floor in front of me. “Clean yourself up. Don’t drip water everywhere.” I looked at the towel on the ground, not moving. “Mr. Sterling, I am your sister’s ‘private assistant.’ I am not required to follow your instructions.” “If you insist, then cleaning the floor now would be considered overtime, and overtime pay would be required.” 6. “Overtime pay?” “Avery Collins, do you think I can’t do anything to you?” “I’m merely stating the terms of the contract.” He advanced towards me, step by step. “Do you really believe I don’t have a hundred ways to make you unable to stay in this house, and without a single penny?” “I believe you.” I nodded, “But those methods probably aren’t entirely legal.” “And I, for one, have few virtues, but I do enjoy being precise, especially when it comes to legal matters.” We faced each other, neither willing to back down. Finally, he conceded, pulling a hundred-dollar bill from his wallet and tossing it onto the floor. “Is that enough?” I bent down, picked up the money, and then, right in front of him, carefully wiped the water from my hands with it. After wiping, I handed the damp, crumpled bill back to him. “Mr. Sterling, please process overtime pay through the company’s finance department. I do not accept cash.” “Additionally, according to labor law, overtime outside of statutory holidays should be paid at no less than one hundred and fifty percent of the normal wage.” “My hourly rate is $1800 divided by 21.75 working days, then divided by 8 hours, which is approximately $10.34 per hour.” “Based on the duration of the floor cleaning, you should pay me…” I pulled out my phone, opening the calculator. “…approximately $4.00. Thank you.” Sebastian stared at me as if I were a monster, then, after a long moment, squeezed two words through gritted teeth. “Get out.” “Certainly, Mr. Sterling.” I turned to leave, naturally not taking the towel from the floor. That night, I inevitably spiked a high fever. I lay in the staff quarters, burning up, every bone aching deep in my bones. Sebastian and Tiffany wanted this exact outcome: for me to give up and leave on my own. But I wouldn’t. I forced myself up, chugging several large cups of hot water. Then, I swallowed two fever reducers and wrapped myself tightly in blankets. The next morning, at six o’clock, I appeared at Tiffany’s bedroom door again, on the dot. My face was pale, my voice hoarse, but my back was ramrod straight. “Good morning, Ms. Sterling. It is precisely six o’clock.” Tiffany looked at me as if she’d seen a ghost. “You… you can still get up?” “Thanks to you, I’m not dead yet.” I managed a weak but standard smile. Over the next few days, Tiffany tortured me even more relentlessly. She made me hand-wash mountains of designer clothes; Scrub the soles of dozens of her shoes with a toothbrush; She even made me get up at three in the morning to buy late-night snacks from that place across town. I did everything, without a single complaint. But I recorded all her instructions on my phone and meticulously logged my working hours. On payday at the end of the month, I sent a detailed overtime summary, along with the audio evidence, to the Sterling Group’s finance and legal departments. The CFO’s face went green when he saw the overtime request totaling a five-figure sum and immediately reported it to Sebastian. That afternoon, Sebastian called me to his study. It was my first time in his study; the walls were lined with books, and a faint, cool cedarwood scent permeated the air. He slammed the overtime application onto his desk in front of me. “Avery Collins, have you had enough fun?” “Mr. Sterling, I’m merely claiming the compensation I’m owed, according to the contract and the law.” “Aren’t you afraid I’ll actually…” “No.” I interrupted him, “Because I know Mr. Sterling is a man of integrity.” “It’s not worth it to cause a labor dispute over such a small amount of money, thereby damaging the Sterling Group’s reputation.” He stared at me with a complex expression for at least three minutes. There was anger, confusion, and something else… something I couldn’t quite read. He still picked up the phone on his desk and dialed an internal extension. “Finance department? Process Avery Collins’s overtime pay, every single cent.” He hung up and leaned back in his chair. “What exactly do you want?” “Mr. Sterling, you’re overthinking it. This corporate drone is just sticking to the contract.” I replied. 7. My refusal to compromise completely wore down Tiffany’s patience. She realized that these petty tricks couldn’t faze me at all. Instead, they only gave me leverage, allowed me to rake in a substantial amount of overtime pay, and seemed to pique Sebastian’s interest in me. She decided to play a more vicious hand, to destroy me. One day, she called me to her room, smiling sweetly. “Avery, you’ve worked so hard these past few weeks.” “I was out of line before, please don’t take it to heart.” She personally poured me a glass of water. I didn’t drink it. “Ms. Sterling, please get to the point.” Her smile froze for a moment, then she continued: “It’s like this, my brother has a very important project he’s working on lately.” “But it seems a rival company has bribed someone inside our organization and has been stealing our confidential business information.” She lowered her voice, speaking conspiratorially: “My brother suspects the mole is someone close to him.” I listened quietly, waiting for her to continue. “Avery, you’re so smart. I was hoping you could help me with something.” She pulled a small USB drive from her drawer. “This is a spare key to my brother’s study.” “I want to ask you to go to his computer tonight, after he falls asleep, and install a program from this USB drive.” “It’s a monitoring program that can help us catch the mole.” She clasped my hand, her eyes “pleading.” “I know this is dangerous, but I really can’t find anyone else I can trust.” “Ryan… you know, he’s too honest, he can’t handle this kind of thing.” “It’s only you, Avery!” “If you succeed, I’ll definitely put in a good word for you with my brother, and he’ll give you a raise and a promotion!” Was my “clueless assistant” act really that convincing? Ms. Sterling was setting such an obvious trap for me. Even with my toes, I could figure out that the moment I plugged that USB drive into Sebastian’s computer, the little program or virus inside would instantly steal core data from the computer and automatically send it to a designated email address. And that email address, nine times out of ten, would belong to the Sterling Group’s competitor. By then, Sebastian would lose the project, and the charge of corporate espionage would fall squarely on me. Stealing trade secrets was enough to make me rot in jail. Tiffany’s move was undeniably vicious. I looked at her, deciding to play along. I just couldn’t guarantee the final outcome. I put on a flustered, overwhelmed expression. “Ms. Sterling, do you really… trust me that much?” “Of course!” She nodded vigorously, “We’re going to be family, after all!” “Alright.” I took the USB drive, clutching it tightly in my hand, “I agree. For you and Ryan, I’m willing to take the risk.” That night, deep in the quiet hours. Following the plan, I took the key and softly opened the door to Sebastian’s study. The study lights were off, only moonlight streamed in through the massive floor-to-ceiling windows, casting dappled shadows on the floor. I walked to the desk and opened Sebastian’s laptop. Then, I pulled out the USB drive. I deliberately acted nervous, my hand trembling slightly, missing the USB port a few times. Just as I was about to insert the USB drive. The study lights suddenly flickered on. Sebastian stood in the doorway, his face grim, watching me. Behind him, stood a smug Tiffany Sterling. “Avery Collins, what are you doing?”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “299120”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster #浪漫Romance #现实主义Realistic #重生Reborn #励志Inspiring #玄幻Fantasy