Author: Momo Chan

After my legs were taken from me, I used to think I was the luckiest girl in the world. I had two people who refused to let me go. One was my little sister, Sadie. When we were children, I ran into the woods to draw the abductors away from her. They caught me, and they shattered my left leg so I couldn’t run again. After we were rescued, Sadie became my legs. She carried me on her back to school, to clinic after clinic, until her own spine curved under my weight. When our parents talked about putting me in a state facility to ease their own burden, Sadie held a kitchen knife to her own wrist, screaming that she would bleed out on the linoleum if they threw me away. That was how she kept me alive. The other was Jude. He was the boy in the cellar, the one I traded my right leg to save when the captors grew impatient. To buy me the customized prosthetics that might let me stand again, Jude dropped out of high school. He worked illegal, grueling shifts before throwing himself into the underground bare-knuckle fight rings, turning himself into a desperate, fearless madman who welcomed pain if it paid. The moment he turned eighteen, he proposed to me, swearing an oath to protect me for the rest of his life. They were my twin stars. They were the only reasons I didn’t use a blade on myself during those long, quiet nights. Until Sadie, weighed down by the anchor of my existence, sank to the very bottom of the marriage market. That afternoon, after her latest suitor ran out of our house—terrified by the sight of my two mangled stumps—I saw Jude pull her into his arms in the hallway. “I couldn’t stop myself from falling in love with you,” Jude whispered, his voice thick with a desperate, agonizing pain. “But you’re forcing me to marry her. I’ll do it. I’ll marry her. But what about your happiness, Sadie? What about us?” Sadie didn’t push him away. Her tears were a sound of pure desolation. “Don’t, Jude. Please, don’t. Georgia… she has nothing left but us.” Jude’s voice sounded as if it were being dragged through gravel. “I’ll kill her. I’ll kill her, and then I’ll end my own life to pay for it. I can carry her on my back forever, Sadie, but I won’t let her drag you to the grave with her.” In the kitchen, my hand trembled. I reached into my cardigan pocket, my fingers brushing against the diagnostic paper from the clinic. Thirty days. A month-long countdown to my death. I wiped the dark, hot blood leaking from my nose, and for the first time in years, I smiled. Death didn’t seem so terrible after all. It was the only real gift I had left to give the two people I loved most. 1 I scrambled to wipe the blood and tears from my face, desperate to slip back into my room unnoticed. But as I spun my wheelchair, my grip slipped. The chair tipped, crashing hard against the linoleum. The metal frame dug violently into the sensitive, scarred edge of my right stump. The pain was a blinding, white-hot flash. As I dragged myself across the floor, trying to crawl away before they could see me, the hallway door flew open. Sadie ran in first, her face instantly draining of color. “Georgia!” She dropped to her knees, her hands shaking as she reached for me. “Oh my god, how long have you been out here? Why are you bleeding? I’m taking you to the ER right now.” I forced my lips into a gentle, reassuring smile. “I only came out two minutes ago to get some water, and I fell. What were you two doing in there?” It’s okay, I wanted to tell her. You don’t have to be afraid. I didn’t hear a thing. Sadie let out a ragged breath, but her face remained deathly pale. “I shouldn’t have left you alone. It’s my fault. I’m so sorry I didn’t take care of you.” A sharp ache bloomed in my chest, pulling me back to a memory from our childhood. I was fourteen, shivering with a high fever from an infected bone spur in my stump. Sadie had woken to my whimpering. She was only thirteen, but she had hoisted me onto her back and run through the freezing rain toward the town clinic, sobbing apologies the entire way because she hadn’t protected me. From that night on, she never slept through the night, always keeping one ear open for the sound of my breathing. Suddenly, Jude stepped forward and kicked the overturned wheelchair aside. The movement was so violent that the metal scraped against my bare, sensitive skin. I bit my lip until it bled to keep from screaming. “Georgia!” Jude’s breath hitched, his chest heaving with a mixture of anger and panic. “You’ve been in that chair for ten years! How do you still manage to fall in your own living room? Sadie is wearing herself to the bone keeping watch over you. What more do you want from her?” Listening to his ragged breathing, I squeezed my eyes shut. “I’m sorry. I’m just… useless.” Jude’s anger deflated into a hollow exhaustion. He closed his eyes, knelt down, and lifted me into his arms. “I’m sorry,” he muttered into my hair. “I just panicked. Did you hurt anything else?” Before I could answer, the diagnostic slip slid out of my pocket and fluttered to the floor. Jude frowned, leaning down to pick it up. Panic seized me. I scrambled out of his arms, tumbling onto the floor to snatch the paper before his fingers could touch it. Both of them stared at me, startled by my frantic reaction. “It’s… it’s a surprise for Sadie’s birthday,” I lied, my voice trembling as I stuffed the paper back into my pocket. “If you look at it now, it’ll ruin the surprise.” Jude’s hand hung in the air. He looked at Sadie, who was already using her sleeve to gently wipe the fresh blood dripping from my nose. Then, with a heavy, deliberate movement, he lifted me and dropped me onto the sofa. “If you want to give her a surprise,” Jude said, his voice laced with bitter restraint, “try not being her anchor for once.” “Jude, stop!” Sadie snapped, but when she looked at me, a flicker of bone-deep weariness crossed her eyes. In that split second, I understood. Sadie felt the exact same way. As I fumbled to wipe away the blood that wouldn’t stop flowing, my mind drifted back to our high school graduation. Our parents had packed their bags and left town, leaving us behind. Jude’s parents had threatened to disown him if he didn’t take his college scholarship and go abroad. But Jude had torn the acceptance letter to pieces right in front of them. “I owe her my legs,” he had told them. “I’m staying.” I had held a kitchen knife to my throat back then, begging them to leave me, to stop ruining their futures for a cripple. But they had both thrown themselves over me, weeping, pinning my arms to my sides. “You are not a burden, Georgia,” Sadie had sobbed, kissing my forehead. “Wherever you are, that’s where my future is.” “We’re trees from the same root, Georgia,” Jude had whispered, his hands shaking as he took the knife from me. “If the root dies, we die. You aren’t my burden. You are my life.” They had tied their lives to mine. One had bound her youth to my body; the other had paved my path with his blood. And I, a useless creature with no legs, had made them suffer so much. I pressed my sleeve against my nose and let out a soft, hollow laugh. “You know, in the movies, when someone gets constant nosebleeds, it means they’re dying of some tragic disease. What if I have one of those?” 2 Sadie’s hands began to shake violently. She grabbed her purse, dumping every faded bank card and crumpled bill onto the coffee table. “Georgia, what’s wrong with you? We’re going to the hospital. Right now. If you’re sick, we’ll sell everything. We’ll find a way.” Jude remained standing by the window, motionless. But after a long, agonizing silence, he walked over and gripped the handles of my wheelchair. “We’re going to get you checked,” he said quietly. “If you’re sick, I’ll just take on more matches.” A lump formed in my throat. I looked at Sadie’s thin, faded t-shirt—she hadn’t bought herself anything new in three years. I looked at Jude’s right hand, where his pinky finger curved at a grotesque angle from a bone that had healed poorly after a fight. Every cent they made was swallowed by my medical bills. I couldn’t do this to them anymore. I couldn’t be their ruin. “I was just kidding,” I said, forcing a cheerful chuckle. “The air is just really dry lately. My head is just a little heavy.” Seeing their suspicious, lingering stares, I pretended to be exhausted and retreated to my bedroom. But the moment my head hit the pillow, the throbbing pain in my skull dragged me down into darkness. When I finally drifted back to consciousness, the muffled sound of an argument was leaking through the bedroom door. “You can’t speak to her like that!” Sadie was crying, her voice hushed but fierce. “Please, Jude. Just be kind to her.” “I only have enough room in my heart to ache for you!” Jude’s voice sounded as if it were tearing from his chest. “I can’t stand watching her drain the life out of you day after day.” “I don’t need your pity!” Sadie sobbed. “If you think my life is so tragic, fine. I’ll marry the next guy who asks. I’ll go back to Derek—” The argument cut off abruptly. A draft blew through the apartment, nudging my bedroom door open just an inch. Through the sliver of space, I saw Jude pin Sadie against the hallway wall. He leaned down and kissed her. His hand cupped the back of her head, gripping her hair with the desperate intensity of a drowning man clinging to his last lungful of air. Sadie pushed against his chest once, weakly, and then her hands stilled. She let herself dissolve into him. I slowly turned my face back to the wall. The tears ran silently, soaking into the cheap fabric of my pillowcase. It’s okay, I told myself. I really don’t mind. Three days later, Sadie came home and told us she had a boyfriend. She wanted us all to go out for dinner so we could meet him. It was Derek—the same man who had fled our house in disgust only a week prior. Sadie kept smiling at me across the living room. “His family is doing really well, Georgia. And he’s so sweet to me.” I stared into her eyes, my throat tightening so hard I could barely breathe. She thought that by sacrificing herself to a man she didn’t love, Jude would finally let her go and dedicate himself to me. She was such a fool. Jude sat beside me, his expression dark as a thundercloud. His knuckles were white, his fingernails digging so deeply into his palms that they drew blood. When we arrived at the diner, Derek didn’t even look Sadie in the eye. Instead, his gaze immediately landed on my wheelchair, scanning my stumps as if assessing a damaged piece of clearance-rack furniture. “Look, Sadie,” Derek said, tossing his menu onto the table. “With your sister in this condition… she can’t even stand, let alone take care of herself. Since she’s going to be a package deal, I won’t be paying a dowry. Honestly, considering the circumstances, you should be glad I’m willing to marry you at all.” He leaned back, gesturing vaguely at Sadie’s worn clothes. “I mean, look at you. You don’t even have a decent dress. My friends are already laughing at me, saying I’m marrying a live-in maid.” Sadie’s smile froze. I reached for my water glass, my hand shaking with a sudden, violent urge to throw it in his arrogant face. But Jude was faster. He rose from his seat, his fist flying across the table and connecting with Derek’s jaw with a sickening crack. Sadie threw herself between them, her fingernails digging into Jude’s arm to pull him back. “Stop! Jude, please, just stop!” she screamed. “This is my life! It has nothing to do with you! Just get out of here!” I grabbed Sadie’s trembling hand, trying to pull her toward the exit. “Sadie, come on. You don’t have to do this—” But before I could finish, Jude grabbed the handles of my wheelchair and pushed me out of the restaurant in a silent, furious sprint. Through the glass window of the diner, I saw Sadie standing alone, her head bowed as Derek shouted at her. When we reached the intersection, Jude stopped. He stared back at the diner, his eyes locked on the silhouette of Sadie and Derek through the glass. His shoulders rose and fell with heavy, ragged breaths. “Wait here,” he whispered, his voice so faint it was barely a breath. He let go of the wheelchair and ran back toward the diner, leaving me alone at the edge of the busy, roaring intersection. The cold night wind rushed down my collar. Behind me, a group of neighborhood kids riding bicycles slowed down. “Hey, look at the legless freak!” one of them yelled, laughing. “Let’s get the monster!” Before I could turn around, a hard shove slammed into the back of my wheelchair. The chair rolled off the curb, hurtling down the steep, dark slope toward the main road. The brake cable snapped with a sharp twang. I clawed at the air, but there was nothing to grab. I rolled directly into the path of an oncoming semi-truck. The high beams blinded me, filling my world with a sudden, terrifying white light. 3 The truck driver slammed on his horn, swerving violently at the last second. My wheelchair flipped, throwing me into the muddy ditch at the side of the road. I rolled through the thorns, my face covered in hot, sticky blood. The driver yelled a curse out of his window, hit the gas, and vanished into the dark. I lay in the dirt for what felt like hours before I heard Sadie’s voice tearing through the night. “Georgia! Oh my god, Georgia!” Jude reached me first. He stared at the blood dripping from my forehead, his eyes turning a wild, bloodshot red. “Haven’t you seen enough today?” he roared, his voice cracking with a terrifying mixture of guilt and fury. “Because of you, Sadie has to suffer these humiliations! I told you to wait for me! Why do you always have to wander off and cause trouble?” He stormed to the trunk of his old car, pulled out a pair of dusty, cheap prosthetics, and dragged them onto my stumps, fastening the straps with brutal, shaking hands. “From now on, you learn to walk,” he hissed, hoisting me up and forcing my weight onto the artificial limbs. “For Sadie’s sake, you are going to stand.” Sadie tried to push him away. “Jude, stop it! You’re hurting her!” “How many more times do you want to be humiliated like today?” Jude screamed back, his eyes wild. “How many more times, Sadie?” Sadie went entirely still. She slowly let go of his arm. I tried to take a step, but the alignment was wrong. I fell hard onto the asphalt, the pain in my thighs radiating up to my skull. Still, I reached down and tightened the straps myself. These were the first prosthetics Jude had bought for me three years ago, spending every cent of his savings. But the money hadn’t been enough for a proper fit. The cheap, hard plastic had rubbed my stumps until they infection-bled, damaging the nerves. Back then, Jude had knelt before me, weeping as he carried me to bed. “I’m sorry, Georgia. I swear, unless I can buy you the best pair in the world, I will never make you wear these again.” And Sadie had cried with him, clutching my hand. “And me, Georgia. I’ll be your legs for the rest of your life.” They had kept those promises. Jude had fought in illegal rings until three of his ribs were broken, and Sadie had carried me everywhere until her own spine curved like an old woman’s. They were such good people. And I had ruined them. I forced a bloody smile. “I’ve… I’ve been wanting to practice anyway, Jude. I want to learn.” The plastic chafed against my skin, peeling away layers of flesh. But I didn’t care. My time was running out anyway, and if walking could give them a sliver of peace, I would crawl through glass to do it. But the physical pain was nothing compared to the tumor growing in my brain. Day by day, my balance grew worse. After a week of falling, Sadie sat on the edge of my bed, cleaning my weeping wounds, her tears dripping onto my scarred thighs. “Don’t do this anymore, Georgia,” she whispered. “Please. Just stop.” Perhaps she wanted to save me from the pain, or perhaps she wanted to completely extinguish Jude’s hope. Over the next ten days, Sadie went on nearly a dozen blind dates, bringing home different men just to show us. The air in our apartment grew cold, heavy with Jude’s silent, suffocating rage. The breaking point came on a Tuesday afternoon. I was trying to stand in the living room when my knees buckled, and I crashed into the coffee table. Jude snapped. He marched over, scooped me up into his arms, and carried me out to his car, throwing me into the passenger seat. Sadie ran out of the house, clawing at the car door. “Where are you taking her? Jude, open the door!” Jude locked the doors from the inside. His face was entirely devoid of emotion, his voice dead. “She says she can’t stand. I’m going to make her.” He drove us out to a deserted dirt road on the edge of town, dragged me out of the car, and left me on the gravel. “Why won’t you stand?” he asked, his voice cracking with a terrifying, hollow despair. “I ruined my entire life for you, Georgia. That was my choice. But you can’t drag Sadie down with us forever.” He got back into the sedan, started the engine, and threw it into drive. He aimed the car straight at me. He wanted to terrify me. He wanted the primal fear of death to force my legs to move. I wanted to move too, but my nerves were dead, my body entirely unresponsive. As the car sped closer, only three feet away, I saw Jude’s eyes through the windshield. There was no hatred in them—only a deep, welcoming desire for death. He was ready to end us both. I tired of fighting. I closed my eyes and waited for the impact. But the screech of tires tore through the quiet night. “Stop it! Both of you, stop!” Sadie had arrived in a taxi. She threw herself in front of the car’s bumper, her face streaked with tears. Jude collapsed against the steering wheel, his shoulders shaking violently. Sadie marched to the driver’s side door, ripped it open, and slapped him hard across the face. “Are you insane?” she screamed. “Are you trying to kill her?” Jude didn’t flinch. He didn’t even wipe the blood from his lip. “I just wanted her to stand,” he whispered, sounding like a broken child. “I just wanted her to stand.” I dragged my useless body across the gravel, reaching out to grasp Jude’s trembling hand. “Sadie, don’t. It’s okay. I asked him to do it. I wanted to try this way.” Jude froze. Then, he leaned out of the car, buried his face in the crook of my neck, and sobbed. I gently patted his back, my fingers tracing the tense muscles of his shoulders. “Don’t cry, Jude. I’ll stand. I promise I’ll stand.” Sadie’s lips trembled, but she didn’t say a word. When we returned to the apartment, the home we had built together felt like a cold, damp tomb. No one spoke. The silence was absolute, broken only by the muffled, agonizing weeping that leaked through the walls late at night. “I told you, Jude… you only had to be good to her,” Sadie sobbed into her pillow one night. “Why did you try to kill her? Is the only way you’ll let her go if I marry someone else?” My head throbbed with a blinding, agonizing pain. I crawled into the bathroom and threw up dark, clotted blood into the toilet. Almost there, I thought, wiping my mouth. Soon, they will both be free. The next morning, I saw Sadie sitting on the sofa, her face painted with a hollow, plastic smile as she agreed to another dinner date with Derek over the phone. My heart sank. “Sadie, please. He’s not a good man.” Her hand paused on the phone. She forced a dry, brittle laugh. “Don’t worry, Georgia. He’s great. Besides, I want to get married. I’m tired of being a third wheel to you and Jude.” She grabbed her purse and walked out, slamming the door behind her. Jude stared at the closed door, then turned his gaze to me. In his eyes, I saw a terrible cocktail of helplessness, pity, and a tiny, dark sliver of… resentment. I took a sip of warm water, but my tongue was too numb to feel the heat. Just a few more days, I thought. Just a few more days. But when Sadie returned that night, her coat was missing. Her hair was a tangled mess, and her lip was swollen and bleeding. When she reached up to adjust her collar, the light caught a dark, purple bruise shaped like a man’s fingers pressed deep into her collarbone. Jude’s entire body went rigid. His knuckles cracked as he balled his hands into fists. “Did he touch you?” 4 My body began to shake violently. “Sadie… tell me who did this. I’ll kill him. I swear to God, I’ll kill him.” Sadie flinched, her eyes turning wild. She grabbed a ceramic mug from the counter and hurled it at me. “Shut up! Just shut up and stay away from me! If it weren’t for you… if it weren’t for your useless legs, none of this would be happening!” The mug shattered against my ribs. The force of it knocked me back, a sharp, blooming pain in my chest making me double over. Jude didn’t look at me. He grabbed the back of my wheelchair and pushed me roughly into my bedroom, locking the door from the outside. “Stay in here, Georgia.” Through the thin wood of the door, Sadie’s sobbing was relentless, a sound of pure, unadulterated grief. “Because of her, I have to let a monster touch me! Because of her, I can’t love the only man I’ve ever wanted! She was taken because of me, yes! But I’ve paid her back with ten years of my life! Ten years! When is it going to be enough? I hate her for making me owe her. I hate that she’s still alive…” The tears ran down my cheeks, hot and heavy. I reached down and touched the empty fabric of my right trouser leg. I hate myself too, Sadie. I hate myself more than you ever could. I lay awake in the dark all night, watching the moonlight slowly crawl across the ceiling. At dawn, the lock clicked. Jude walked in, carrying a small, warm bowl of vanilla custard. It was my favorite. Years ago, when the pain of the amputations made me want to starve myself to death, Jude would stay up all night to make me warm custard, feeding it to me spoonful by spoonful. “Eat something sweet, Georgia,” he would whisper. “If you eat something sweet, the world won’t taste so bitter.” But vanilla custard at five in the morning was strange. Jude’s expression was incredibly calm, his eyes hollow. “Sadie shouldn’t have hit you yesterday. Eat this. It’ll make you feel better.” I looked at the custard, and then I looked into his eyes. I understood. It was okay. Dying a few days early didn’t make any difference now. I took the bowl from him. But as I raised the spoon to my lips, Jude suddenly spoke, his voice barely a whisper. “Georgia… I really did love you once. More than anything.” I smiled at him, my heart feeling lighter than it had in years. “I know, Jude. I know.” When I was twenty, my stumps had become severely infected. The doctors said they needed to amputate more of the bone, and the surgery would cost ten thousand dollars. The fight rings hadn’t paid enough, so Jude had gone to three different black-market blood clinics under fake names. He had sold so much of his own blood that his skin turned translucent, and he collapsed in the alleyway. When he woke up in the clinic, the first thing he did was show me the crumpled envelope of cash. “I got the money, Georgia. We can do the surgery now.” “Jude,” I said softly, looking at him one last time. “I love you. And I love Sadie. No matter what happens, I always will.” He turned his face away, his shoulders trembling. I raised the bowl and began to swallow the sweet, warm custard in large gulps. But just as I reached the final spoonful, Jude suddenly screamed, lunging forward and slamming the bowl out of my hands. “Don’t! Don’t eat it!” The ceramic shattered on the floor, splashing the yellow custard across the rug. But it was too late. The drug was already in my system. Within seconds, a sharp, agonizing fire tore through my stomach, as if a thousand claws were ripping me apart from the inside. Through a heavy, suffocating fog, I felt hands squeezing my throat, trying to force me to throw up. Then came the cold, clinical glare of hospital lights, and the brutal sensation of a plastic tube being shoved down my esophagus. I retched violently, my body convulsing on the metal gurney. When the distant wail of sirens finally faded, I used the absolute last of my strength to open my eyes. I knew this was the end. I wanted to look at the people I loved one last time. Sadie’s eyes were swollen and red from crying. Jude stood beside her, his face a mask of gray, lifeless shock. I looked past them, locking eyes with the police officer standing at the foot of my bed. “I… I didn’t want to live anymore,” I whispered, my voice a dry rattle. “I took the pills myself. It was me. No one else.” I wanted to say more, to make sure they were safe, but the darkness was pulling me down, heavy and absolute. I closed my eyes, and the world slipped away. Jude’s frantic voice seemed to come from miles away. “We pumped her stomach! Why isn’t she waking up? Why is her heart slowing down?” Then, the doctor’s heavy, exhausted sigh. “The patient has a terminal brain tumor… the poisoning must have triggered a massive cerebral hemorrhage. There’s nothing more we can do.” A heavy sound echoed, like someone collapsing to the floor. “What tumor…” But the rest of his words were drowned out by the quiet, beautiful silence. In my coat pocket, the suicide note I had written days ago slid out, fluttering onto the hospital floor. Jude picked it up with trembling fingers: Sadie, Jude, If you are reading this, it means I am finally at peace. Please, be together. Don’t let my ghost stand between you. You’ve carried me for ten years; now, it’s time to run. Go forward, my sweet, stubborn kids. I’m letting go.

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When I caught Devon at the hospital, accompanying my sister Hailey to her prenatal checkup, I demanded a divorce on the spot. But Devon didn’t flinch. Instead, he calmly slid a DNA report across the cold desk, revealing a truth that fractured my entire reality: I was adopted. “Stop making a scene,” Devon had said, his voice entirely devoid of warmth. “Your parents have known for years. Our marriage was a merger of dynasties, Gill. If it weren’t for my ring on your finger, do you think the Callahans would have kept you around for a single second?” “Other heiresses have a family legacy to fall back on when their marriages fail. You? If you leave me, you walk away with absolutely nothing.” The words hit me like physical blows. My hands shook so violently the paper rattled in my grip. The family who had raised me, the name I had carried—it was all a beautifully constructed lie. And so, suffocated by the sudden weight of my own insignificance, I swallowed my pride. I fell into line. I became the quiet, compliant wife he always wanted. Until the day Hailey went into labor. Devon told her he would grant her any wish she wanted. “Devon,” Hailey had whispered, her eyes shining with tears as she held the newborn. “I want to be your real wife. I want our baby to be able to call you Daddy out in the open. Gill is just a foster child anyway. Can’t she… can’t she just play the mistress for a year? Just until things settle?” Devon had looked down at her with a tenderness he hadn’t shown me in years. “Whatever you want, sweetheart. I’ll take care of it.” Then he turned to me, his jaw set, ready to deliver the ultimatum. But before he could utter a single word, I gave him a small, obedient nod. “Okay,” I said. He froze, a flicker of surprise crossing his face. He probably thought I had finally been broken. That I had accepted my fate. But what he didn’t know was that weeks ago, in that very hospital corridor, I had stood outside the half-open door of his office and heard him speaking to my parents. Devon’s voice had been cold, calculating: “The only way to make her obedient is to let her believe she has no claim to the Callahan legacy. Once she realizes she’s nothing without us, she’ll fall in line.” And my mother and father—the people who had tucked me into bed for twenty-three years—had eagerly nodded. “Of course, Devon. The Callahan Group’s cash flow is entirely dependent on your investment. She’s your wife. Do whatever you must to manage her.” I remembered how the tears had slipped silently down my cheeks in that sterile hallway. I remembered reaching into my purse, pulling out my own positive pregnancy test, and letting it drop into the trash can. This family had never been mine. And there was no longer any room for me in this house. … “Since you’ve agreed, you should pack up and move out today,” Devon said. He was cradling the baby, his eyes searching mine with a cold, unfamiliar detachment. I stood near the bedroom door, my fingers digging into the edge of the ultrasound photo hidden deep in my coat pocket. My chest ached, but I kept my lips sealed. He had the child he wanted. Revealing my own pregnancy now would only invite ridicule. I slipped into the bathroom, quietly tossed the ultrasound into the wastebasket, and began packing my bags. The master closet was a museum of luxury—designer dresses, rare handbags, expensive trinkets. But after three years of marriage, almost none of it belonged to me. Every time Devon bought me something nice, Hailey would claim she loved it, and she would take it. At home, my parents always sang the same chorus: “She’s your younger sister, Gill. You have to share.” I had foolishly believed that marrying Devon would rescue me from that endless cycle of yielding. For the first six months, he did protect me. But then, slowly, his loyalty shifted. “I don’t think Hailey is as malicious as you make her out to be,” he’d told me one night, his voice laced with exhaustion. “But you? You’re constantly paranoid. You pick fights over everything.” It didn’t matter anymore. I knelt in the corner of the closet, reaching into the furthest recess of the bottom shelf to pull out a small paper bag. Inside were the tiny organic cotton baby onesies I had secretly bought a month ago. Back when we were still happy, back when Devon and I used to whisper about names in the dark, we had wanted this more than anything. What a waste. I let out a dry, bitter laugh and tucked the baby clothes into the corner of my suitcase. Suddenly, the door clicked open. Hailey stood there, her eyes immediately zeroing in on the bag. “Gill, what is that?” Before I could close the suitcase, she gasped, her voice instantly cracking into a dramatic sob. “Gill! I know you hate me, but how could you steal my baby’s clothes? Are you planning to do something sick with them? Are you trying to curse my little Rory?” My mind went entirely blank. A primal surge of protectiveness hit me, and I lunged to grab them back. “These are mine—” Before the words could leave my mouth, a sharp, stinging slap cracked across my cheek. My head snapped back, my vision blurring. Through the hot tears, I looked up to see Devon standing over me, his face twisted in pure disgust. “Gill, even if you aren’t a biological Callahan, they raised you with manners. How can you be so vicious? Stripping a newborn of his clothes out of sheer spite?” My chest tightened until I couldn’t breathe. It was always like this. A simple look at the store receipt would have cleared everything up, but Devon never asked. Just like my parents, he had already written the script in his head, and I was the villain. The bitterness choked me. “I’m sorry,” I whispered. I had learned long ago that trying to explain only made the punishment worse. Compliance was a survival mechanism. Devon’s expression softened slightly, a flicker of uncertainty passing through his eyes. He cleared his throat. “Just finish packing and go. Stop upsetting Hailey.” Perhaps a foolish, dying spark of hope still lingered in me. I stood up, holding his gaze. “Devon. Aren’t you even going to ask me why I bought those clothes?” He hesitated, but before he could answer, Hailey cut in. “Oh, please, Gill. Don’t tell me you’re going to lie and say you’re pregnant too. Didn’t you show me your own medical reports? You’re sterile.” She tapped her phone screen and held up a forged laboratory document. Devon’s face instantly darkened, the last trace of warmth vanishing from his eyes. “Gill, you are absolutely pathetic.” When they threw me out, a light December snow was beginning to blanket the driveway. Devon didn’t follow me out, which gave Hailey the perfect opportunity to drop her sweet act. She held up the baby clothes, a triumphant, mocking smirk spreading across her face. “A charity-case foster kid trying to play mistress to her sister’s husband,” she whispered, her voice dripping with venom. “You really thought you were worthy of carrying Devon’s heir?” My lips parted, but no sound came out. Everyone in our circle knew the truth—I was the lawful wife. But truth meant nothing when the people in power decided to rewrite it. They had fabricated the DNA test, forged the medical records, and locked me out of my own life. With a hollow laugh, I dragged my suitcase down the icy driveway, leaving the estate behind. I hadn’t walked half a mile before my phone buzzed. It was an audio recording from Hailey. In the clip, her voice sounded small and innocent. “Devon… do you think we’re being too cruel to Gill?” Devon’s scoff was loud and clear. “You’re too soft, Hailey. Gill doesn’t have a fraction of your grace. I thought she was reasonable when we married, but lately, she’s been tracking my location, checking my phone, throwing tantrums if I so much as look at another woman. Her pride needs to be broken. Once she learns her lesson and begs for forgiveness, I’ll bring her back.” “But what if she gets too angry and never comes back?” Hailey asked. Devon laughed, a cold, confident sound. “She won’t. When we were teenagers, she almost drowned trying to drag me out of that lake. She’d never actually leave me.” The snow was falling faster now, stinging my face. I stood frozen on the sidewalk, my fingers trembling as I clutched my phone. He was right. Once, I would have died for him. Back when my parents shoved me into the shadows to let Hailey shine, Devon had been the only one who stood in front of me. He bought me the toys they took away; he held my hand and promised he would never let Hailey hurt me. But everything began to rot the moment Hailey showed up at our wedding. Shaking off the memories, I walked into a nearby real estate office. Cold and exhausted, I needed a place to sleep. But when the agent ran my card, he shook his head. “I’m sorry, ma’am. Your account has been flagged and frozen.” The freezing wind seeped through my coat. I pulled out my phone and dialed my closest friend. It rang eight times before she finally answered. “Hey, I’m in a really tight spot. Could you lend me—” “Gill, don’t hate me,” she cut in, her voice hushed. “Devon put a warning in the group chat. He told everyone you’re a fraud, that you tried to seduce your sister’s husband, and that anyone who helps you is officially his enemy.” There was a heavy silence. “Just… don’t call me again, okay?” The line went dead. I tried three more friends. One claimed to be boarding a flight; two went straight to voicemail. The last one picked up only to ask if it was true that I had stolen baby clothes. Hailey had posted a tearful video on her Instagram story with the caption: Sister, even if you hate me, please don’t hurt my baby. The comment section was a bloodbath of strangers calling me a monster. The December wind felt like a blade slicing through my bones. I dragged my heavy suitcase through the slush until my legs gave out, and I slumped onto a metal bench at a deserted bus stop. I don’t know how long I sat there, but eventually, the quiet hum of an engine broke the silence. A sleek black Bentley pulled up to the curb. The tinted window rolled down, revealing Devon’s sharp, handsome face. He took one look at me—shivering, covered in a light layer of snow—and his brow furrowed in irritation. “Gill, are you stupid? It’s below freezing. Why didn’t you go to a hotel?” Before I could open my mouth, Hailey leaned over from the passenger seat, wrapping her arm tightly around his. “Oh, Devon, she’s just putting on a show. Remember last week when she locked herself out on the balcony in the middle of the night just to make you cancel your board meeting? She loves playing the martyr.” Devon’s hand froze on the door handle. The irritation in his eyes instantly solidified into ice. He felt manipulated. Again. But last week, it had been Hailey who locked me out on that balcony. I had screamed until my throat was raw. I had explained it to him, but he had dismissed it as a pathetic lie. I didn’t bother defending myself this time. What was the point? Devon rolled up the window, and the Bentley glided away into the snowy dark. That night, the temperature plummeted to single digits. I curled up on the frozen bench, clutching my knees, waiting for a morning that felt like it would never come. When the sun finally rose, my entire body was burning. My head throbbed with a terrifying pressure, and my limbs felt like lead. As I struggled to sit up, harsh, whispered voices drifted over from the sidewalk. “Hey, isn’t that the girl from the video?” “Disgusting. Stealing her own sister’s husband.” “Imagine pretending to be a wealthy heiress your whole life, only to end up a cheap homewrecker.” “No, that’s not…” I tried to speak, but my voice was a raspy whisper. It felt like swallowing glass. Across the street, the massive digital billboard of a department store flickered with the morning news. The camera zoomed in on Hailey, her eyes glistening with perfectly styled tears. “Gill isn’t a Callahan,” she sobbed into the microphone. “She lied to my family for decades, and she lied to the man I love. Now, she’s trying to tear us apart. I don’t want to hurt her, but my baby deserves a father.” Devon was standing right beside her, his arm wrapped protectively around her shoulders. “Don’t worry, sweetheart,” he said, his voice carrying over the street. “My heart has always belonged to you.” A wave of nausea hit me so hard I dry-heaved over the side of the bench, clutching the handle of my suitcase. I remembered the night Devon proposed. He had gone down on one knee in the rain, his voice thick with emotion: “Gill, you saved my life. I’ll spend every day of mine making sure you’re happy.” And now? He was the one who signed the fake DNA papers. He was the one who threw me to the wolves. “Gill, it’s just for a year,” he had told me in the hospital. “Just bear with it.” The whispers around the bus stop grew louder. A small boy, egged on by his mother, threw a slush-covered stone that hit my shoulder. “Stay away from families, you home-wrecking witch!” The sharp sting snapped me out of my stupor. Looking at the crowd of judgmental faces, I pulled my collar up and fled into the bitter cold, leaving my suitcase behind. The suitcase held the only remnants of our three years: the love letters he wrote me in college, our wedding photos on the beach, our marriage license. I didn’t care anymore. My only thought was reaching a clinic. I had to protect my baby. But the local clinics were ruthless. The receptionists recognized my face from the local news and social media. “We don’t serve homewreckers here,” one said, throwing my ID back at me. “Get out.” I collapsed onto a curb, my mind drifting in and out of consciousness. I didn’t cry. I just brushed the snow off my coat, stood up on trembling legs, and kept walking. Eventually, an off-duty nurse saw me shivering in an alley. She didn’t ask questions; she just handed me a small packet of fever reducers and a bottle of water. I thanked her and moved on, terrified of causing her trouble. But Devon’s reach was absolute. Two days later, I heard she had been fired. By then, I had managed to find a dishwashing job at a greasy spoon diner on the edge of town. The elderly owner had looked at me with kind, grandfatherly eyes and offered me a shift. But when I heard about the nurse, my chest ached with guilt. I pushed the contract back across the table. “Thank you, sir. But I can’t take this. I’m sorry.” If Devon was willing to ruin a nurse for giving me medicine, he wouldn’t hesitate to destroy this old man’s diner. As I walked out of the diner, a gaunt, slick-looking man in a cheap suit approached me, sliding a business card into my hand. “Looking for quick cash? High-fashion modeling. Daily payouts, no questions asked. We just need girls with your look.” My fever was returning, my vision swimming. I was entirely out of money. I looked at the card, desperation overriding my instincts, and nodded. “Great,” the man smiled, his teeth yellow. “Let’s go meet the director.” I followed him down a series of increasingly deserted alleys toward a crumbling industrial park. But just as we reached the entrance of a windowless warehouse, a hand clamped down on my wrist like a steel vice. I was spun around to face Devon. His face was livid, his eyes blazing with fury. Two heavy-set bodyguards stood right behind him. “Gill, have you really crawled this low? The moment you leave my house, you rush out to sell your body?!” Before I could comprehend what was happening, I was dragged toward his SUV. Behind me, his bodyguards began systematically beating the scout into the pavement. The realization of what that warehouse actually was hit me like icy water. I had almost walked into a human trafficking trap. “Devon, I didn’t know—I—” “You didn’t know what?” he snarled, slamming the car door. “Are you telling me a Callahan heiress is too stupid to recognize a basic trafficking front?!” I closed my eyes and leaned my head against the cold glass. I didn’t say another word. He drove me to his private estate in the suburbs. He told me there was a charity gala being hosted on the grounds tonight, and ordered me to stay locked in the guest room so I wouldn’t embarrass him. Before he left, he had a maid bring up a massive platter of steamed king crab. He had forgotten. Hailey was the one who loved seafood. I was severely allergic. I choked down some plain crackers, wrapped myself in the heavy duvet, and let the fever drag me into a deep, dreamless sleep. I don’t know how many hours passed before I was violently jerked awake. The blankets were ripped away, and Devon was towering over me, his eyes bloodshot and wild. “Where is he? Gill, where is the baby?!” My fever-addled brain couldn’t process the screaming. I stumbled as he dragged me out of bed, my knees buckling. He gripped my shoulders, shaking me violently. “Rory is gone! The security cameras caught someone in your exact coat pushing the stroller out of the gate!” I tried to tell him that I hadn’t left the room all afternoon. I tried to tell him to ask the security guards at the door, or the maids. But before the words could form, Hailey burst into the room, sobbing hysterically. She threw herself at my feet, clutching my knees. “Gill! I know you hate me! Take my money, take my clothes, take Devon—just please, give me back my baby! Give me Rory!” Devon knelt and pulled Hailey protectively into his arms. The look he directed at me was cold, merciless, and utterly dead. “I am giving you one last chance, Gill. Tell me where the child is, or I will personally hand you over to the people in that warehouse.” “I didn’t take him…” I whispered, my voice cracking. “Enough!” He stood up, looking down at me with unvarnished disgust. “You are a monster, Gill.” Something inside my chest—the final, fragile thread that had bound me to him since childhood—snapped. His phone rang. He glanced at the screen, his expression shifting slightly. He muttered a strict order to the security guards to keep me locked in the room, and then he hurried out. The moment the door clicked shut, Hailey’s sobbing ceased. She wiped her dry cheeks, a slow, cruel smirk spreading across her face as she looked at my flushed, feverish face. “You look awful, sister,” she whispered. Then, she turned to the two guards standing by the door. “She took my baby. Mr. Prescott said we can do whatever it takes to make her talk.” I tried to back away, but my limbs were paralyzed with exhaustion. The guards stepped forward. One of them grabbed my arms, pinning them behind my back, while the other began driving his fists directly into my abdomen. A white-hot agony exploded in my stomach. I collapsed onto the hardwood floor, curling into a tight fetal position, my hands desperately trying to shield my belly. I felt it then—a warm, terrifying rush of fluid soaking through my clothes. “Stop… please…” I gasped, my voice barely audible as I wept into the floorboards. “Please, my baby…” Hailey let out a delighted laugh. “A baby? You? Please, Gill. Nice try with the fake blood pack.” The commotion must have drawn the guests from the gala downstairs. Within minutes, a crowd of wealthy, well-dressed onlookers gathered at the doorway, whispering and pointing. Once Hailey loudly explained who I was—the bitter, home-wrecking adoptive sister who had stolen her newborn—the whispers turned into jeers. Phones were pulled out. Flashbulbs blinded me. People began recording, cheering the guards on. “Beat her!” “That’s what she gets!” Hailey turned to the crowd, wiping away a theatrical tear. “I thought she just loved my husband too much, but she’s rotten to the core. Look what I found in her pocket.” She held up the cheap modeling card from the industrial park. The crowd erupted into disgust. “Disgraceful. And she calls herself a Callahan.” “No wonder she’s a mistress. If you’re willing to sell yourself in warehouses, you don’t have any dignity left anyway.” Among the crowd, an obese, middle-aged donor in a tailored suit caught Hailey’s eye. She gave him a subtle, approving nod. The man stepped forward, unbuckling his belt with a greasy grin. “Well, if she’s already been used by the whole city, she won’t mind giving the sponsors a turn, right?” “Don’t…” I whimpered, trying to crawl away, but my body was entirely broken. I couldn’t even lift my fingers. The crowd went quiet, but no one moved to stop him. The thrill of the spectacle had completely eroded their basic humanity. Two more men stepped forward, their eyes gleaming with predatory hunger. They pinned me down. My coat was ripped away, then my shirt. Despair, thick and suffocating, swallowed me whole. I closed my eyes, waiting for the end. But just as my pants were violently tugged down, the crowd suddenly parted. Devon walked into the room. “Hailey, we found Rory. Your mother took him to the garden for a walk and forgot her phone—” His voice died in his throat. He stood frozen, his eyes locking onto the dark pool of blood spreading across the floor beneath me, and the hands of the men pinning me down. The color drained completely from his face.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “457760”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

I was scrolling through a relationship forum late at night when a thread caught my eye. “Slept with my boss after a few too many drinks. Now I’m pregnant. What do I do?” The top comment, sitting at several thousand upvotes, offered two clear-cut options: “Is he single? If yes, talk to him. If he’s married, get an abortion immediately, act like nothing happened, and take the secret to your grave.” It made sense to me. I was about to hit the like button when I saw the original poster’s reply below it. “He’s married, but his wife is child-free by choice. When he’s drunk, he constantly talks about how desperately he wants a kid of his own. Screw it, I just texted him to test the waters.” A second later, the screen of the phone lying on the coffee table lit up. It was my husband’s phone. The contact name read Heidi – Assistant. The preview of the message was brief, but it hit me like a physical blow: “Hey Gary, do you want a son?” … I only hesitated for a second before picking up the phone. I bypassed the lock screen by typing in my birthday—the passcode he had used for years. Right after that text, there was another message. An image. It was a crumpled, slightly blurry photo of an ultrasound report. Gestational age: three weeks. The timing was a cruel, perfect match. Three weeks ago, Gary’s childhood best friend had gotten married. After the reception, I had come down with a low-grade fever, so Gary had sent me home in an Uber while he stayed behind to keep the after-party going. He didn’t come home at all that night. The next morning, his excuse had been seamless: he didn’t want to wake me up or disturb my rest, so he had crashed at the hotel venue. But when he came home, I had caught the faint, unmistakable scent of citrus and iris on his collar. I had tested that exact perfume at a department store boutique a week prior but hadn’t bought it yet. At the time, I foolishly assumed Gary had secretly bought a bottle to surprise me for our upcoming anniversary. I had searched his briefcase, his car, and his pockets, looking for the telltale box. I never found it. My thoughts were abruptly cut short as a pair of strong arms wrapped around me from behind. The scent of his familiar, clean eucalyptus soap filled my nose. “Checking up on me?” Gary’s voice was warm, dripping with the lazy, affectionate indulgence of a man who believed he was completely safe. “I told you, Patricia, I deleted that gallery director last week. I even had Heidi notify her firm that we’re canceling all future event contracts. You can put your mind at ease.” The gallery director he was talking about was a woman who had tried to pursue him during a corporate art exhibition. Even knowing he was married, she had left her stockings in the passenger seat of his car. When the drama had landed on our doorstep, Gary had handed his phone over to me without a shred of hesitation. “Look for yourself, sweetheart,” he had said. “I’ve never replied to a single one of her texts. You can check whatever you want.” Suddenly, the phone in my hand buzzed twice. It was another message from Heidi. Before I could tap the screen, Gary’s hand darted over my shoulder, smoothly pulling the device from my grip. The movement was instinctive, a fraction of a second too fast. We both froze, the sudden tension thick enough to suffocate. “It’s… a work emergency,” Gary said, his voice dropping slightly as he tried to smooth over the crack in his composure. “Go to sleep first. I’ll go take care of it in the study.” Perhaps sensing his own awkwardness, he turned and walked down the hallway before I could reply, closing the study door behind him. I lay back down in our king-sized bed, staring at the ceiling as my heart hammered against my ribs. Sleep was entirely out of the question. I unlocked my own phone and opened the forum thread again. Heidi’s comment about “testing the waters” had already drawn hundreds of angry replies. Users were tearing her apart, calling her a homewrecker trying to force her way into a marriage. To defend herself, she had posted a cropped screenshot of their conversation. The forum users mocked her, claiming the screenshot was fabricated for clout and engagement. But as I stared at the image, a cold, numbing dread settled deep into my bones. Even though the profile pictures had been cropped out, the messages on her side matched the ones I had just seen on Gary’s phone. And Gary’s reply was a single word. “Yes.” It was followed by a period. He had a habit of ending every single text message with a period, no matter how brief. I gripped my phone, threw off the covers, and walked out into the dark hallway. The house was dead silent, save for the muffled, low murmur of Gary’s voice leaking through the cracks of the study door. “Just focus on resting and taking care of the baby right now. Once it’s born, I’ll make sure you have everything you could ever want.” There was a long, heavy pause. Then, a soft sigh. “You know I can’t give you a legal title, Heidi. Sweetheart, don’t cry. Where are you right now? I’ll come to you.” The doorknob turned, and the study door swung open. Our eyes met in the dim light of the corridor. I spoke first, my voice surprisingly flat. “Going out this late?” “The accounting department messed up some quarterly projections,” he said, stepping past me with a practiced, reassuring smile. He leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to my forehead. “It’s a mess. I need to head to the office.” My stomach turned. I stared at his retreating back, my eyes tracking the phone gripped tightly in his hand. “Are you going to the office, Gary, or are you going to Heidi?” He froze, his shoulders tensing under his coat. “I saw the text she sent.” Gary slowly turned around to face me. The panic in his eyes was fleeting, replaced almost instantly by a calm, patronizing warmth. “Patricia, it’s just a sick joke. How could you think I’d actually do something like that? Besides, I promised you—we are child-free. I’ve never wanted anyone but you.” We were child-free because of me. Or rather, because of what had happened to me. During our first year of marriage, his company was on the brink of collapse. To secure a crucial two-million-dollar seed investment, Gary spent a month swallowing his pride, playing golf, and drinking himself to the point of alcohol poisoning with a group of predatory investors who kept moving the goalposts. Desperate to help him, I reached out to an old college friend who introduced us to a legitimate venture capital firm. The deal went through almost overnight. But the thugs Gary had been dealing with felt slighted. They hired a couple of street enforcers to corner him on his way to sign the papers, intending to teach him a permanent lesson. I had been there. When the knife lunged toward Gary’s chest, I threw myself in front of him. The blade punctured my abdomen. I survived, but the damage to my uterus was catastrophic. The doctors told us I would never be able to carry a child. I still remembered how Gary had knelt by my hospital bed, his eyes bloodshot, his face wet with tears as he pressed his forehead against my hand. “I’m so sorry, Patricia. This is my fault. I’m going to spend the rest of my life making this up to you.” That was the first time I had ever seen him cry. Years later, when he finally established himself in the business world, the very first thing he did was buy out the company belonging to those original investors and ensure the men who had attacked us were put behind bars. For a decade, everyone in our social circle told me how blessed I was. They said Gary’s devotion to me was legendary. And it was true—he did love me. But it was also true that in his drunken, unguarded moments, he had mourned the family he would never have. Gary didn’t leave the house that night. Instead, he sat on the living room sofa, placed a call to Heidi on speakerphone, and fiercely reprimanded her, demanding she apologize to me for her “inappropriate behavior.” Then, he hung up and sat next to me, taking my cold hands in his. “Do you remember when the company suddenly switched material suppliers last month?” he asked, his tone gentle and reasonable. “The truth is, Heidi was forced to drink at a corporate dinner. She was taken to a hotel room while she wasn’t fully conscious. “She’s a young, unmarried girl. If this gets out, her life is ruined. When she texted me about having a son, she was asking if we—since we don’t have children—would be willing to adopt the baby so she wouldn’t have to raise it alone. “But don’t worry. I’ve already told her no. I’m putting her on an extended paid leave so she can terminate the pregnancy and get some rest.” I didn’t push him further. I didn’t point out the flaws in his story. But a cold, sharp needle had lodged itself in my heart, and every breath I took made it dig deeper. My sleep was heavy, thick with exhaustion and feverish dreams. I dreamed of the first time I met Gary. He was sixteen, a lean, quiet boy standing beneath the massive oak tree in my family’s courtyard. He looked like an ink-wash painting, beautiful and entirely out of place. My parents had led me out to the yard, introducing him with soft, serious voices. “Patricia, this is Gary. From now on, he’s your brother.” Gary was the son of my father’s old military comrade who had died in the line of duty. My father had brought him home with a quiet, calculated purpose: when they were gone, Gary would be the one to help me run the family empire, ensuring I wouldn’t be preyed upon by the vultures in the business world. He was meant to be my protector. He was quiet, almost stoic, so I spent my youth flitting around him like a hyperactive sparrow. At first, he would tell me to keep my distance. But eventually, he learned to smile, to laugh, and to look out for me. The fragile peace shattered on a warm summer afternoon when my father walked into the conservatory and caught me kissing a sleeping Gary on the chaise lounge. My secret was out. My father was furious. He gave Gary a choice: pack his bags and face a total blacklist from every major firm in the city, or leave with nothing and prove he could make five million dollars on his own within three years. If he succeeded, my father would personally hand over my hand in marriage. We both knew the blacklist was a professional death sentence. In that moment, a desperate, wild courage possessed me. I grabbed Gary’s hand and ran. “Wherever he goes, I go!” I yelled back at my father. “We’ll make the five million together!” The three years that followed were the hardest of our lives. We lived in a damp, leaky basement apartment where we had to split a fifty-cent loaf of bread to make it last for two meals. Gary worked grueling double shifts during the day and fought in dangerous, underground boxing matches at night, all to save up enough money to buy me a cashmere winter coat. He never told me about the fights, and I pretended not to know. But every night, after he fell asleep, I would gently lift his shirt, tracing the jagged scars on his ribs while my tears soaked into his chest. Shortly after the three-year mark, my parents were killed in a sudden car crash. Their will left everything—the family company, the properties, the accumulated wealth—entirely to Gary and me. Our lives finally became comfortable. I had believed we would always be okay. That the foundation we built in that damp basement would hold us forever. But the ground beneath my feet was liquefying, pulling us into a dark, uncontrollable descent. When I finally woke up, the space beside me was cold. Gary was already gone, likely at the office. My head felt thick and heavy, a lingering remnant of the fever. I dragged myself to the kitchen to find some aspirin. As I reached for the cabinet, my eyes fell on the small trash can beside the counter. Lying right on top was a torn, empty foil packet of a heavy-duty prescription sleeping aid. The realization settled over me like a suffocating blanket. He had slipped a sedative into my warm milk last night. My hands shook violently as I pulled out my phone. Before I could dial Gary’s number, a notification popped up on my screen. It was an Instagram update from Heidi’s private account, which I had been quietly monitoring through a burner profile. The photo was a breathtaking shot of the sunrise over the Cascades. Heidi was leaning back against a man’s chest, her face glowing. The man’s face was cropped out of the frame, but he was wearing a distinctive gray plaid silk tie. I had bought that exact tie for Gary’s birthday last year. The caption read: “Watching the sunrise as a family of three. Grow strong, little one!” Down in the likes, Gary’s personal account was listed right at the top. I sank to the kitchen floor, my chest tightening so hard I could barely draw air into my lungs. But as I stared at the photo, my eyes locked onto something else. Around Heidi’s neck was a stunning, deep-green emerald necklace. It was my mother’s heirloom wedding set. A cold panic seized me. I scrambled up and ran to the master closet, tearing open the hidden safe behind the mirror. The heavy steel door swung open. The velvet jewelry boxes were empty. The heirloom emeralds, the diamonds, and the ten gold bullion bars I had inherited from my family’s estate were entirely gone. I sat in the middle of the closet, my vision blurring with rage. I pulled out my phone and dialed a private investigator I had retained once before during a corporate dispute. “I need you to locate someone. Now.” An hour later, I was driving up the winding mountain pass toward our private cabin in the Cascades. It was a beautiful timber-frame property Gary had bought years ago. We used to spend every winter there, watching the snow fall by the stone fireplace. But for the last two years, Gary had insisted we couldn’t go because of “ongoing mountain road construction.” My investigator had just called me back with the property records. The cabin had been transferred out of the family trust and deeded entirely to Heidi Cross two years ago—barely two months after she had started working as his assistant. They had been playing me for a fool from the very beginning. I parked my car in the driveway of the cabin, my heart pounding a steady, rhythmic beat of pure grief. I walked up to the heavy oak front door and typed in the passcode. It wasn’t my birthday. It was Heidi’s. I pushed the door open. The interior had been completely stripped of my influence. The rustic, warm timber-and-leather aesthetic was gone, replaced by soft pastel pinks and plush, delicate furniture. The walls were lined with framed photographs of the two of them. They had taken photos in every city Gary had supposedly visited for “business trips” over the past two years. They had dined at five-star restaurants, held hands in front of European landmarks, and smiled under foreign suns. I walked further into the house. The room that had once housed my grand piano had been converted into a sunlit, beautifully decorated nursery. The walls were lined with soft protective padding. Dozens of unopened boxes of high-end wooden toys and designer baby gear were stacked in the corner. Suddenly, the sound of footsteps echoed from the second-floor landing, followed by Gary’s low, murmuring voice. “I didn’t want to make you apologize to Patricia last night, sweetheart, but I had no choice. You know I have to keep her calm right now.” I looked up. Gary was walking down the stairs, his arm draped protectively around Heidi’s waist. Heidi leaned into him, her voice trembling with soft, performative anxiety. “But I’m so scared, Gary. If Patricia finds out the truth, she’ll destroy me. What if she comes after the baby?” “She won’t touch you,” Gary promised, kissing her temple. “I’m here. I won’t let her hurt either of you.” I stood at the base of the stairs and began to clap, the sound echoing sharply against the high ceilings. “What a beautiful, tragic love story.” Gary’s face drained of color. He stopped dead on the landing. “Patricia? What are you doing here?” “You stole my mother’s heirlooms to fund your mistress’s lifestyle, Gary,” I said, my voice ice-cold. “Why do you think I’m here?” He frowned, immediately stepping in front of Heidi to shield her from my view. “I didn’t steal them. I borrowed them. It was a temporary measure—I was going to tell you.” “Let’s go. I’ll drive you back to the city.” I stepped back, avoiding his outstretched hand, and pointed a finger at the woman cowering behind him. “Borrowed? I’d love to know what kind of emergency requires an administrative assistant on medical leave to wear a six-figure heirloom emerald necklace and keep ten bars of gold bullion in her closet.” “Give them back right now, or I’m calling the police.” Before Gary could speak, Heidi let out a sob and ran down the remaining steps. She reached up, frantically tearing the emerald necklace from her throat. The sharp metal clasp dug into her skin, leaving a thin, bloody scratch across her collarbone. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Davenport! I didn’t want to take your necklace, I swear! It’s all my fault. You can scream at me, you can hit me, but please, please don’t hurt my baby! I beg you!” She collapsed toward the floor, attempting to drop to her knees in front of me. Gary caught her before she hit the ground, pulling her up into his arms with a look of fierce, protective agony. “What are you doing? Stand up!” he snapped at her, before turning his fury on me. “I took those pieces, Patricia! It has nothing to do with her!” He snatched the emerald necklace from Heidi’s hand and hurled it violently at my feet. “If you’re going to act like this over some old jewelry, take it! We don’t want your hand-me-downs anyway!” The heavy emerald pendant struck my forehead before clattering to the floor. A sharp pain bloomed above my eye, and I instinctively reached out to catch the necklace as it fell. I was a second too late. The delicate, antique setting struck the hardwood floor, and the flawless green emeralds shattered into a dozen fractured shards. My heart shattered with them. In our ten years together, Gary had only raised his voice at me twice. The first time was when we were eighteen. I had just packed my bags to follow him into poverty, turning my back on my family. He had stood on the street corner in the pouring rain, calling me an idiot, screaming terrible things at me to try to force me to go back home where I was safe. And when he accidentally pushed me to the ground, he had fallen to his knees, terrified, holding me close and begging for forgiveness. The second time was today. And he had done it to protect another woman, destroying my parents’ last remaining keepsake in the process. He knew exactly what that necklace meant to me. Gary looked at the small cut on my forehead, then at the blood dripping onto my hand from the broken stones. For a fraction of a second, regret flickered in his eyes. But Heidi let out another whimpering sob against his chest, and his expression instantly hardened back into ice. “Fine, Patricia. Since you’ve forced my hand, let’s lay it all out.” “I admit it. Three weeks ago, I didn’t stay at the hotel. I came here and slept with Heidi. I was drunk out of my mind, and it was a mistake. I didn’t expect her to get pregnant.” “I’ve spent the last three weeks trying to manage this, trying to keep our marriage together, but you just had to go and blow everything up.” “As for this baby—I want a child, Patricia. My company needs an heir to carry on the family name. But I can promise you this: once the baby is born, you will raise it. You will always be Mrs. Davenport. I’m not replacing you. So please, stop throwing these childish tantrums.” I stared at him, letting out a dry, hollow laugh. He had cheated on me, lied to me, drugged me, and stolen my inheritance—yet he was standing there, telling me I was the one throwing a tantrum. He wanted an heir for his company. But he had forgotten one crucial detail: Davenport Enterprises belonged to my father. And my father’s will was very specific about who owned the keys to the castle. I took a step forward, looking him straight in the eye. “I have no interest in raising your bastard, Gary. We are done.” Before he could react, I unlocked my phone and dialed 911. “I’d like to report a grand larceny at my property. The stolen assets are valued at over five hundred thousand dollars. I am currently at the scene with the suspect and the stolen goods.”

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My boyfriend was a field doctor with an international aid group, and I was a pampered heiress who had never known a day of real hardship. When the field clinic in the conflict zone was bombed, he threw protocol to the wind. Ignoring a room full of casualties, he clawed through the rubble like a madman to dig me out. “If you so much as scratch your skin,” he’d said, his voice raw and trembling, “I will lose my mind.” On the flight back to New York, he held my dust-covered hand tightly, kissing my knuckles as if he had just survived a brush with death. I borrowed his laptop to send my father a quick email letting him know I was safe. That was when I saw the draft he had written to his first love—the one who got away: [If only I had protected you like this during the accident back then, would we still be together?] 01 My name is Kristin. My father always joked that the only hardship I’d ever faced in my life was an iced Americano served without simple syrup. It was an exaggeration, of course, but not entirely wrong. I grew up wrapped in cotton wool. Every detail of my life was meticulously arranged by others; the most strenuous thing I’d ever done was walking through three floors of Saks Fifth Avenue. And then, I fell for Lewis. He came from a modest background. Quiet, reserved, almost cold. After finishing his residency, instead of taking a lucrative position at a prestigious private hospital, he chose to run toward the darkest, most chaotic corners of the world. People called him an idealist. They said he was too rigid, that a man like him would either burn himself out or drive everyone around him away. But to me, he was fiercely protective. He knew I had a severe seafood allergy, so he memorized the menus of every single restaurant I frequented. When I ran a fever in the middle of the night once, he drove three hours through a snowstorm to sit by my bedside, watching over me until dawn without closing his eyes. When I complained that the seatbelt was too tight and secretly unbuckled it, he would pull the car over, his face dark, refusing to drive another inch until I buckled back up. Back then, I thought he was just overbearing. But he would lean down, adjust my collar, and say in a raspy voice, “Kristin, please. Don’t play games with your safety.” My friends told me that Lewis was the type who would never stay with me for money. Even my father had to admit that. Over the three years we were together, Lewis never accepted a single dime from me. When I bought him a watch, he rejected it, saying it was too extravagant. When I offered to have my father help pull some strings for his career, he declined on the spot. Even my trip to join his project in the Middle East with my family’s charitable foundation took me two weeks of begging my father to approve. Before I left, my father slammed his hand on the desk in frustration. “Why on earth are you going there? Do you think you can survive that kind of environment?” I hugged his arm, wheedling, “I’ll only be there for two days, Dad. Just to see him, and then I’ll come right back.” My father glared at me. “If Lewis had any sense, he wouldn’t let you go in the first place.” But when Lewis saw me step off the transport vehicle, he stood silent for a long time. Finally, he placed his helmet over my head. “Only two days,” he said, his voice grave. “Stay close to me, and don’t wander off.” I teased him. “And what if I do?” His brow furrowed. “This isn’t a playground, Kristin.” I pouted, feeling a sudden pang of hurt. A second after, his expression softened. He reached out, gently stroking my hair, his voice dropping to a low murmur. “Be good. When we get back to the States, I’ll take you to meet my mother.” I froze. Meeting his family was something he had always avoided discussing. “Really?” “Yes.” “Does that mean… you’re planning to marry me?” He looked at me for a beat, his throat tightening slightly. “If you’ll have me.” I nearly threw my arms around him right there. I felt like every bit of trouble it took to get here was entirely worth it. But that night, a deafening explosion ripped through the supply depot. Before I could even register what was happening, the ceiling collapsed above me, burying me in darkness. 02 When the rubble settled over me, my mind went entirely blank. Through the thick dust, I could hear shouting—calls for medics, demands for stretchers, voices screaming for Dr. Ross. And then, I heard Lewis’s voice. It was close, frantic, bordering on hysterical. “Kristin!” I had never heard him speak like that before—his throat sounded raw, his words trembling with pure terror. Someone tried to hold him back: “Dr. Ross, we have critical patients over here, you need to—” “Get the hell off me!” Lying beneath the debris, I heard the heavy stones and concrete being ripped away. Chunks of plaster and dust fell onto my face. Others were shouting about protocols, direct violations, and abandoning his post, but he was entirely deaf to them. When a sliver of light finally broke through the darkness, I saw his bloodshot eyes. He was kneeling, his bare hands scraped raw and bleeding. “Kristin, it’s okay.” “I’ve got you.” He pulled me out from the wreckage, his arms shaking uncontrollably. I instinctively huddled against his chest, tears stinging my eyes. “You’re hurt,” I whispered. “I’m fine.” “Your hands are bleeding.” “I said I’m fine.” He stared down at me, his eyes terrifyingly bloodshot. “Kristin, if you so much as scratch your skin, I will lose my mind.” In that moment, I truly believed he loved me more than his own life. Our flight back was arranged on an emergency basis. Even after boarding the plane, I was still in a daze, my hands and face covered in soot, looking utterly disheveled. Lewis sat next to me, his grip on my hand never loosening. As the plane ascended, he leaned down and kissed the back of my hand, over and over again. My eyes welled up, my heart aching with tenderness. “I want to send my dad an email, just to let him know I’m okay,” I said. He nodded and handed me his laptop. “The password is the same.” His password had always been my birthday. I opened his email client, but before I could click compose, the screen refreshed to a pending draft. The recipient was Cora Whitman. If only I had protected you like this during the accident back then, would we still be together? Beside me, Lewis, who had just kissed my hand with such desperate devotion, was already fast asleep against the headrest. 03 Lewis slept deeply. He had been working back-to-back shifts for too long; deep dark circles shadowed his eyes, and a rough stubble lined his jaw. But as I sat beside him, the man I had loved for three years suddenly felt a million miles away. My mind began to trace backward, reconstructing pieces of our past. I remembered how he compulsively checked the brakes and seatbelts every time we got into a car. I remembered how furious he got if I drove even slightly fast; once, when a driver merely overtook another car, Lewis’s face had gone pale and rigid. I remembered how he never let me sit in the passenger seat, claiming it was the most dangerous spot in a collision. I remembered when I had wanted to learn how to ride a motorcycle on a whim, and he had argued with me for half an hour, ending with him almost throwing my helmet to the ground. Back then, I had secretly bragged to my friends that Lewis might seem cold on the outside, but his love for me was almost pathologically protective. But now, I didn’t dare to think that way anymore. What if what terrified him wasn’t the thought of losing me? What if he was just terrified of repeating his failure to save someone else? When the plane landed at JFK, my father’s security team was already waiting outside. Lewis pulled my suitcase, his brow furrowed as he asked, “Should we drop you off at home first, or should we stop by the hospital to get you checked out?” “Home.” “I’ll go in with you.” “No, my dad has everything arranged.” He hesitated, startled. “Kristin, what’s wrong?” “Nothing,” I muttered, keeping my eyes on the ground. “I’m just tired.” He clearly sensed the shift in my tone. But perhaps assuming it was just the shock of the explosion, he didn’t press. He reached out, gently touching my forehead. “Go home and rest. When you feel up to it, I’ll come over to speak with your father.” “We’ll see,” I said simply, getting into the car. The moment my father saw the small cut on my forehead, his face drained of color. He wrapped his arms around me, barely containing his rage. “I knew I shouldn’t have let you go! Where is Lewis? How could he let this happen?” Usually, I was fiercely protective of Lewis, leaping to defend him at the slightest criticism. But this time, I opened my mouth, only to let it close in silence. That night, I asked my assistant to look up a name: Cora Whitman. She and Lewis had been classmates in college, active in the same volunteer organization. I found old photos of them online—standing side-by-side, looking effortlessly perfect together. In the comments section, people had cheered them on, calling them the campus’s golden couple. Scrolling further down, I found a local news article from a few years back. The headline was brief: College Student Critically Injured in Hit-and-Run. The accompanying photo was grainy, but I could still recognize the blood-splattered, kneeling man crying beside the stretcher. It was Lewis. 04 Lewis and I didn’t speak for three days. During those seventy-two hours, he sent me a barrage of texts—asking how my leg was feeling in the morning, reminding me to eat at noon, checking if I was asleep at night. Normally, this was my weakness. A little bit of his quiet attentiveness, and my heart would melt. But this time, every message I read only brought back that unsent draft: If only I had protected you like this during the accident back then. On the fourth evening, he showed up at my house. He held a box from my favorite bakery in one hand and a small velvet box in the other. “How’s your leg?” “Better.” “And your forehead?” “Almost healed.” He offered the box. “Open it.” I didn’t reach for it. After a tense silence, he opened it himself. Inside was a diamond ring. “I was planning to wait until your birthday,” he said softly. “But after what happened… I don’t want to wait anymore.” If I hadn’t seen that email draft, I probably would have burst into tears and thrown myself into his arms. He looked up at me, his throat tight. “Kristin, will you—” “Lewis,” I interrupted, “were you deeply in love with someone else before me?” The room fell utterly quiet. “Why are you bringing this up now?” “Just answer me.” He pressed his lips together, taking a long moment before speaking. “That’s in the past.” I looked at him, feeling a sudden, bitter urge to laugh. “In the past? So far in the past that you’re still drafting emails to her?” He remained silent, his jaw clenched tight. I stared into his eyes, forcing out every word: “When you were digging me out of those ruins, risking your life and your career… who were you really picturing? Me, or her?” “Kristin.” “Tell me.” A flicker of panic crossed his eyes. He reached out to touch my arm, but I stepped back. “It was just a draft I never sent. I was in a terrible head space after the blast, and I wrote it without thinking. It didn’t mean anything.” “It didn’t mean anything?” I echoed. “Then why write it at all?” Silence again. I didn’t fear arguments; I feared his quiet evasion—the fact that he knew the truth but chose to hide it. Just then, his phone buzzed on the coffee table. A notification popped up on the screen. The sender’s name: Cora. 05 I didn’t make a scene. My father always told me that the most pathetic thing a person could do isn’t getting their heart broken, but clawing desperately for answers when they already know they’ve been devalued. So the next evening, I attended my family’s foundation gala as scheduled. The gala was a fundraising benefit for our international medical aid initiatives. My father wanted me to make an appearance and network. I hadn’t wanted to go, but when my assistant sent over the guest list, I spotted a familiar name on the final page: Cora Whitman. I arrived late. Shortly after I walked in, one of our directors escorted a woman toward me, introducing her as a representative from one of our partner programs. “Kristin, this is Cora Whitman, one of our lead physical therapists.” She was quieter than I expected. Her hair was swept up elegantly, her dress simple. But as she turned, I noticed a slight, barely perceptible limp in her left leg. “Hello,” she said. I offered a polite smile. “Hello.” “Lewis always told me you were beautiful,” she murmured, her voice soft. “Seeing you now, I realize he wasn’t exaggerating.” The words seemed polite enough, but coming from her, they carried an underlying edge. I replied coolly, “He mentions you often, too.” The smile on her lips faltered. “Oh?” “Yes,” I said, holding her gaze. “After all, some people are impossible to forget.” She didn’t deny it. “Kristin, I don’t want you to misunderstand,” she said. “Lewis and I… that was a lifetime ago.” “Good to know.” I thought that would end the conversation. But she leaned in slightly, adding in a hushed tone, “He’s carried that guilt for years. My accident happened right in front of him. He’s always blamed himself for not protecting me.” My fingers tightened around my clutch. “And your point is?” “My point is, when he sees someone he cares about in danger, he panics more than most. It’s a trigger for him.” She looked at me, a patronizing warmth in her eyes. “Don’t be hard on him. He didn’t mean to make you feel like a substitute.” Don’t be hard on him. As if she were the one who knew him best. Before I could reply, I heard approaching footsteps. Lewis. “Cora, you shouldn’t be standing for this long,” he said, naturally reaching out to steady her elbow. It was an incredibly practiced, instinctive gesture. He only then looked up and noticed me. “Kristin? What are you doing here?” I let out a dry laugh. “Am I not allowed to attend my own family’s gala?” Realizing his blunder, his face stiffened. “That’s not what I meant.” I had no desire to hear his explanations. I turned and walked away. Behind me, he called my name, but I didn’t look back. Later that night, my assistant sent me a text: Kristin, just so you know, Lewis left the venue with Cora tonight. 06 I didn’t sleep a wink that night. The next morning, I placed the diamond ring back in its velvet box and had my driver deliver it to Lewis’s apartment. But the driver returned with the box still in his hand. “Mr. Ross wasn’t home, ma’am,” he said. “But I saw his car parked outside the rehabilitation wing behind the hospital.” The rehab clinic. Cora. Reason told me that I had seen enough. When a man’s heart belongs to someone else, you don’t need to dust for fingerprints to prove it. But human nature is masochistic; when a blade is plunged into your chest, you still want to peer down and see exactly how deep the wound goes. So that afternoon, I drove over. I waited in my car for nearly forty minutes before I saw Lewis step out of the building. He didn’t leave immediately; instead, he stood near the stairwell exit, lighting a cigarette. A moment later, Cora joined him. I stepped out of my car, moving quietly closer until their voices drifted over to me. “Does your girlfriend know?” Cora asked. Lewis kept his head down, stubbing out his cigarette against the railing. “Just give me a little more time.” I froze. “Can you really let her go?” Cora pressed. The breeze carried his reply, slightly muffled, but clear enough to pierce through me. “I owe you, Cora. I have to make it right.” In that single instant, it felt as though a bucket of ice water had been poured over my head.

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On a popular online confession forum, tucked away among thousands of teenage regrets, there is a post with tens of thousands of upvotes. “When I was young, I valued friendship more than life itself.” “My best friend in high school was a golden girl—beautiful, wealthy, and brilliant. But she fell for a scholarship kid who had nothing going for him but a pretty face. She was even ready to throw away her Ivy League acceptance to stay with him.” “I was terrified he was just a social climber who would ruin her life. So, I took the love letter she wrote him and gave it to her childhood best friend—a boy from another wealthy family, someone her parents actually approved of.” “But that wasn’t the end of the story. Before we even graduated from college, her family went bankrupt. And that poor boy? He built a tech empire from nothing and made the Forbes billionaires list.” The comment section below was a storm of righteous indignation. The top comment read: “Upvote this so the friend sees it. Run as far away from toxic, controlling people like this as you can.” The original poster replied almost instantly. “She did leave me. She got cancer. She died three years ago.” “If I could, I’d go back to high school with her. I’d spend an entire night just talking and laughing in the back of the study hall.” “But neither of us can ever go back.” The thread was quickly dubbed the most haunting post of the year, skyrocketing to the top of the trending pages. Daniel Westbrook, the billionaire male lead of that tragic story, knew absolutely nothing about it. He had just stepped off a grueling red-eye flight, carefully shielding a plush toy rabbit in his arms—a birthday gift for his daughter. … My phone screen lit up with a photo of Daniel, his wife Penny, and their little girl, Maisie. When he picked up, Maisie’s dimpled smile filled the screen. “Daddy! Why aren’t you home yet?” The exhaustion vanished from Daniel’s face, replaced by a gaze of pure warmth. “I had to wait in a long line to get your bunny, sweetie. I’m almost there.” Maisie squealed and bounced on her bed before Penny took the phone, her expression gentle but slightly exasperated. “I told you there was no rush, Dan. We could have celebrated her birthday tomorrow.” As the car sped through a dimly lit tunnel, Daniel’s wedding band caught the overhead lights. He stared at Penny, his eyes soft with affection. “It wasn’t just for Maisie. I missed you too.” Penny flushed, a soft laugh escaping her lips. “Daniel, you are entirely too good at this. Who taught you how to love someone so well?” Daniel’s response was quiet, almost imperceptible. “I’m just copying someone else.” Watching this from the empty passenger seat, I felt a familiar, hollow ache. I was the mold he was copying. Every ounce of love I had poured into Daniel during our youth, he had taken. He had clumsily studied it, memorized it, and learned how to reflect it back. But now that he finally knew how to love, I was no longer the one receiving it. Halfway through the drive, Maisie fell asleep. Penny whispered to Daniel over the phone, scrolling through her feed until she stumbled upon the viral forum post. She read it aloud, sighing softly when she finished. “Oh, that’s so incredibly sad,” Penny murmured. “If her friend hadn’t interfered, they probably would have been so happy together.” Daniel’s hand, which had been flipping through a file, froze for a fraction of a second before resuming its rhythm. “It was fate,” he said, his voice flat. “It just means they weren’t meant to be. People who don’t belong together will always find a way to fall apart.” A bitter, sour ache rose in my chest. The teenage Daniel I knew had never believed in fate. He used to hold my hand, his eyes burning with determination, telling me we could beat any odds. But that brave, fierce boy had died the day my best friend, Hallie, stripped away his dignity, and he watched me seemingly confess to another man. Even though I had been dead for three years, I still couldn’t forget the shattered, fragile look in his eyes that day. “Donna, was I just a dog to you? Someone you kept on a leash for amusement?” Beside him, his assistant leaned forward to go over tomorrow’s schedule. “We have your keynote speech at your old high school tomorrow morning.” Having spent the last three years as a silent ghost tethered to Daniel’s side, I could read his moods better than anyone. He didn’t say a word, but the slight tightening of his jaw told me everything. He hated the idea. He loathed the thought of going back. The assistant checked his tablet and added, “Going as a distinguished alumnus is excellent PR for the firm. Besides, I personally vetted the guest list. There’s no one on it you’d prefer to avoid.” Daniel leaned back into the leather seat, closing his eyes. “Fine. Let’s just get it over with quickly.” The school’s anniversary celebration was packed, mostly because of Daniel’s arrival. To escape the suffocating crowd of administrators, he slipped away to wander the campus alone. Without his entourage and his billionaire title, he looked remarkably like the boy he used to be. He walked through the old classrooms, the study halls, the library, the indoor pool… Every corner where we once whispered secrets to each other had been renovated and changed. I let out a soft sigh of relief. Thank goodness it looked different. If it had remained the same, Daniel would have felt sick to his stomach and walked away. But when he reached the rose garden in the courtyard, his feet ground to a halt. I had forgotten. This was the place where I had staged my “confession” to my childhood friend, Wyatt. I had spent hours decorating it with fairy lights, white roses, and balloons. And on that day, Daniel had stood in this exact spot, drenched in rain and blood, watching me. “Daniel?” A voice broke the silence. “I’m surprised to see you here.” I turned. It was Hallie. She looked devastatingly tired. She was only in her late twenties, but streaks of silver ran through her hair, and the bright, energetic girl I grew up with was entirely gone. To my surprise, Daniel remained perfectly calm. He addressed her with a polite, cold professionalism. “I’m a businessman. If an event benefits my company, I attend.” Hallie let out a heavy, ragged sigh. “What happened back then… it was a misunderstanding. Please don’t hate Donna.” “She only went to LA because her family forced her to after the bankruptcy. She lost everything overnight. She nearly died in a dingy apartment over there.” “You have everything now, Daniel. Can’t you just let the past go?” Daniel’s lips curled into a mocking, icy smile. “So, you’re here as Donna’s lobbyist now? What’s her price this time? Fifty million? A hundred?” “I assume she’s cheaper than she was four years ago. At least back then she was still a virgin when she tried to sell herself to me. I doubt she has the same market value now.” Four years ago, when my family went bankrupt, my Uncle Richard had tried to sell me to a wealthy investor to clear his own debts. He had drugged me, whispering that my body was worth a hundred million. “A hundred million can save your parents’ company, Donna. You don’t want us to starve, do you? We’re your family!” By some twist of fate, the room they sent me to belonged to Daniel. He had been drugged too, by a business rival, but he still had the strength to push my feverish body away, his voice dripping with venom. “Donna Sinclair, you are even more pathetic than I thought.” “Did you conspire with my competitors to drug me? Do you honestly think I’m still that stupid boy who will crawl at your feet like a dog?” “I’m going to prosecute that fraudulent hundred-million contract, and I will ruin you.” I didn’t know where I found the strength, but I had dragged myself across the floor, weeping and desperately grabbing the hem of his trousers. “Please… please, I beg you. Just sleep with me. If you do, I can save my family.” Instead, Daniel had lifted me and thrown me into a bathtub filled with ice. I shivered violently, freezing to the bone. Before I lost consciousness, I saw him take a pocketknife and slash his own palm twice. He chose to bleed to keep his mind clear rather than touch me. “You disgust me, Donna,” he had rasped, his voice trembling. “You say you’re doing this for your family? What about mine? My mother was killed in a hit-and-run because of your birthday. I will never have a mother again.” In the present, Hallie’s fists clenched so tightly her nails dug into her palms. The veins on her neck strained as she forced herself to breathe. “You don’t have to worry,” Hallie said quietly, her voice trembling. “Donna isn’t coming.” “She got cancer. She fell ill the moment she got back from LA four years ago.” “She died in a hospice in Boston three years ago.” It was the third time during his afternoon meeting that Daniel lost his train of thought. He only realized he was holding his contract upside down when his assistant cleared his throat. He was still the same beneath it all—clumsy when overwhelmed, just like he was at seventeen. Back then, I was a reckless heiress, tossing my parents’ trust fund around to sponsor dozens of underprivileged students. Among the crowd of flatterers who constantly tried to make me laugh, Daniel was the exception. He always wore faded, washed-out shirts and stood at the edge of the crowd with a stony expression. Every time our eyes met, he would look away first, his ears turning a bright, burning crimson. Amused, I decided to make him my personal tutor. He took the job seriously, staying up late to find ways to make me actually study. He accompanied me to amusement parks, riding the rollercoasters until his face turned white, yet always agreeing to go a second time just because I asked. He followed me around like a shadow, filling my lonely life with warmth. One afternoon, as he knelt to tie my shoelace, I looked down at him. “Do you like me?” Daniel looked up, his gaze incredibly earnest. “Yes. I do. I’ve loved you for a very long time.” That was the first night in my life I couldn’t sleep. I tossed and turned, my heart hammering, deciding I had to confess back to him. I spent days planning the perfect setup, and in my rush, I asked Hallie to hand-deliver my love letter to him. I was too excited to notice the cold, disapproving look in Hallie’s eyes. “Have you ever considered he has an agenda?” she had warned me. “What if he’s just a gold-digger? He’ll bleed you dry and leave you with nothing.” I had sworn to her that Daniel would never do that. But on the day of the confession, the person who showed up in the rose garden wasn’t Daniel. It was Wyatt. He kept talking and talking, but I didn’t hear a single word. My eyes were fixed on the edge of the courtyard, where Daniel stood. He was drenched, covered in blood, staring at me with a hollow, dead look in his eyes. Only later did I find out that Daniel’s mother had spent the entire afternoon cooking a birthday dinner for me. Remembering how much I loved the pastries from a bakery on the other side of town, she had rushed out to buy them and was struck by a speeding car. The blood covering Daniel was his mother’s. When I ran to him, he gently but firmly pushed me away. “I know I’m not good enough for you,” he said, his voice entirely devoid of emotion. “I know you never truly saw me as an equal. I never asked you to love me back because I did it willingly. I never regretted it.” “But I regret it now. Because my pathetic, worthless love killed my mother.” “I was your dog for two years, Donna. We’re even.” I had screamed, crying, trying to explain, but he pushed me out of his apartment. Through the window, I watched him pour bleach over the floor where I had stood, scrubbing desperately. Even when I fell to my knees in the dirt outside, begging him, he never looked at me again. A week later, Uncle Richard locked me in my room, revoked my passport, and eventually shipped me off to a plane to LA. The next time I heard Daniel’s name, it was on an international news broadcast. He was speaking eloquently about his rise in the tech industry, a wedding band catching the studio lights. “My wife is incredible,” he told the interviewer. “I love her deeply.” I was washing dishes in the back of a greasy restaurant in LA when I saw it. I dropped a stack of plates, shattering eight of them. That was also the day the doctor handed me my biopsy results. Stage IV. I used every last penny of my savings to buy a one-way ticket back to Boston. I went to my childhood home, only to find bank foreclosure notices taped to the gates. Uncle Richard had embezzled the remaining funds and fled, leaving me with nothing. I walked the streets of my youth, so empty that I couldn’t even squeeze out a tear. Without money, there would be no treatment. And that was fine. At least, in my final days, I would be breathing the same air as him. That felt like enough. When Hallie finally tracked me down, she held me and wept for hours. “I thought he was using you,” she sobbed, her face pressed against my shoulder. “So I gave your letter to Wyatt instead. I went to Daniel and told him he was nothing but trash, that a charity case like him should never dream of reaching for you.” “I was just so afraid you’d ruin your life over a boy. I wanted to protect you… I never meant for this to happen…” Hallie’s family wasn’t wealthy, and she had a half-brother she was putting through school. But she gave me every cent of her savings, dragging me from hospital to hospital. By the end of my chemotherapy, when my hair began falling out in clumps, Hallie shaved her head alongside me. Even when the sun was shining, I could only curl up in my hospital bed, shaking from the pain. Hallie sat beside me, her eyes permanently red, whispered apologies becoming her mantra. Near the end, she asked me if I had any regrets. I wanted to tell her that I wanted to see Daniel one last time. But then I saw his televised wedding on the small hospital screen, and the words died in my throat. “I don’t have any regrets,” I whispered. “I’m happy.” A sharp chime from his phone pulled Daniel back to reality. The atmosphere in his office instantly grew heavy. Tomorrow was the anniversary of his mother’s death. Penny quieted Maisie and slipped out of the room, giving him space. The next morning, under a gray, drizzling sky, Daniel arrived at the cemetery early. He cleaned his mother’s headstone and placed a fresh bouquet of white lilies. He had a board meeting at ten; he couldn’t stay long. Through the curtain of rain, he didn’t recognize the woman standing a few yards away. Hallie was kneeling by a small grave, lighting a single candle and quietly singing a birthday song. “I brought you a slice of vanilla bean cake this year,” she whispered to the headstone. “It’s the trendy kind now. No mangoes, I promise.” I hovered close to her, and even though I couldn’t smell it, the cake looked beautiful. Suddenly, a gust of wind blew the candle out. Hallie frowned softly. “I wasn’t finished talking yet, you impatient girl.” I giggled and stepped back a bit. Miraculously, the candle flickered back to life. Hallie froze, tears immediately spilling over her cheeks. But before she could speak, a pair of immaculate leather shoes stepped into her line of sight. Daniel stared past her, his eyes locking onto the small headstone right next to his mother’s plot. The inscription read: Here lies Donna Sinclair. Daniel’s lips twisted into a cold, mocking smirk. He pulled out his wallet, extracting a thick stack of hundred-dollar bills. “Not bad,” he sneered, tossing the cash onto the wet grass. “You’ve put a lot more effort into this scam than the last one. You even bought a fake headstone.” “What’s the play here, Hallie? Trying to make me feel guilty? Did Wyatt run out of money, so now you’re trying to position her as my mistress?” The crisp green bills fluttered through the rain, landing on my clean grave. Hallie snapped. She lunged forward, violently shoving Daniel back. With trembling, mud-stained hands, she reached into her bag and pulled out a faded, water-damaged envelope. “Donna never loved Wyatt!” she screamed, her voice cracking. “The only person she ever loved was you!” “I was the one who stole her letter. I was the one who kept you apart. If you want to hate someone, hate me! But please, for God’s sake, give Donna some peace!” My heart caught in my throat. I watched Daniel, waiting, hoping for some sign of the boy I once knew. Daniel recognized my handwriting. His eyebrows twitched. He quickly scanned the faded ink, his eyes halting at the final line: Daniel, I love you. I’ve always loved you. A dry, bitter laugh escaped him. He slowly, deliberately tore the paper in half, then into quarters. “You think a forged letter is going to make me write a check? Did the Sinclairs forget what I promised? If anyone gives Donna Sinclair a single dime, I will personally see to it that the family is ruined.” Hallie’s face drained of color. She stared at him in utter horror. “You… you were the one? You forced her uncle to strip her of her inheritance?” Daniel nodded slowly, his tone chillingly conversational. “She set me up. I retaliated. It’s called business.” Hallie broke down. She slapped him—a sharp, ringing crack that echoed through the quiet cemetery. “She was so poor she couldn’t even afford her pain medication!” she screamed, tears streaming down her face. “She knelt on the floor of her apartment, begging me to let her die because she couldn’t take the pain anymore! Daniel, you killed her! You’re the one who killed her!” Hallie’s shoulders shook violently. It took her several long minutes to gather herself. Meeting the rising storm of fury in Daniel’s eyes, she calmly reached into her pocket. “Watch this,” she whispered, her voice dead. “Then do whatever you want to me.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “457757”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

I was Ethan’s secret lover for five years, his chief designer for five years, and all I got in the end was: “You think you deserve love?” The day he got engaged, he forced me to design the ring for his fiancée. Then my father came for his debt and put my sister in the hospital. With nowhere left to turn, I made a phone call— Julian. A one-billion-dollar bride price. He was looking for a woman with the right birth chart to marry into his family for a spiritual cure. They said Julian was crippled. Vicious. A devil crawled up from hell. But the moment I signed that agreement, I realized— At the end of hell stood my god. The day Ethan announced his engagement, Los Angeles was hit by a heavy downpour. I stood in a corner of the ballroom, nursing a glass of flat champagne. “Everyone, let me introduce you to Chloe,” Ethan’s voice, unusually gentle, echoed through the microphone. “Our engagement party will be early next month. Please honor us with your presence.” The room erupted in applause. All eyes were on the golden couple beneath the spotlight. Chloe wore a pure white haute couture gown, appearing so innocent and fragile as she leaned shyly into Ethan’s arms. And Ethan, Los Angeles’s youngest and most promising mogul, his usually cold, stern eyes had softened like water. No one looked at me. No one knew that I was Ethan’s secret lover for five years, kept hidden in the shadows. I was also the sharpest blade in his hand, his company’s chief jewelry designer, Jade. “Ms. Jade.” A mocking voice rang in my ear. A few of Ethan’s close friends, champagne glasses in hand, walked over, their eyes full of malicious amusement. “Ethan’s getting engaged. You, the big contributor who’s been with him for five years, why aren’t you going to toast them?” “Exactly, Jade. Weren’t you always sticking to Ethan? Now that his legitimate fiancée is taking over, your heart must be bleeding, right?” They chuckled, making no effort to hide their disdain for me. In their eyes, I, Jade, was nothing more than a shameless gold-digger who clawed her way into Ethan’s bed for money and status. I didn’t say a word, just tilted my head back and gulped down the bitter wine in my glass. Five years ago, my mother fell critically ill, and my father ran off with her medical funds. It was Ethan who descended like a god, handing me a card, buying out five years of my youth and talent. I accompanied him to business dinners, took the brunt of the drinks for him, and in bed, I did everything I could to please him. I thought five years would be enough to warm his heart. But a month ago, Chloe appeared. She was just a new intern at the company, clumsy and even making mistakes with simple photocopying. Yet, Ethan shielded her, and for her sake, he publicly reprimanded me for the first time. He said, “Jade, you’re too cold-blooded, too worldly. Chloe isn’t like you, she’s pure. Don’t scare her.” Pure. I mulled over those words, finding them damn ironic. I collected my thoughts, looking coldly at the rich kids in front of me. “Mr. Ethan’s engagement? Of course, I’ll prepare a grand gift. Don’t you worry about that.” With that, I turned to leave. I hadn’t taken two steps when my wrist was suddenly grabbed with immense force. I was forced to stop, colliding with a pair of deep, cold, dark eyes. Ethan had come down from the stage at some point and now stood before me. Behind him, Chloe remained by his side. “Where are you going?” Ethan stared at me, his voice tinged with displeasure. “Back to the office to work overtime.” I tried to pull my wrist free, but couldn’t. “Do you need something, Mr. Ethan?” Ethan’s eyes narrowed. He seemed utterly displeased by my business-like attitude. His grip tightened, threatening to crush my bones. “Chloe said she really likes your design style,” Ethan said, enunciating each word. “Our engagement rings will be designed by you personally.” I snapped my head up, staring at him in disbelief. He wanted me to design the engagement rings for him and another woman? Ethan, do you even have a heart? “I apologize, Mr. Ethan,” I took a deep breath, suppressing the tremor in my heart. “I’m tied up with next season’s main product line. I simply don’t have the time.” “Jade…” Chloe spoke timidly, her eyes instantly welling up. “Are you angry with me? I know you and Ethan used to… if you don’t want to, I won’t force it. We can just buy a pair.” Her act of aggrieved concession instantly ignited Ethan’s fury. “Jade, what’s with the attitude?” Ethan sneered, his gaze cutting across my face like a knife. “Don’t forget the binding contract you signed. You only have one role in company arrangements: obedience!” “I said you’re designing them, and you will draw out every single line!” The air around us seemed to freeze instantly. Everyone was watching me, enjoying the spectacle. Watching how I, the woman once so favored by Ethan, was being trampled underfoot, my dignity crushed. I looked at Ethan’s face, a face I had loved for five years, and suddenly found it utterly unfamiliar. My chest ached, as if countless needles were pricking me. But I didn’t cry. My tears, Jade’s tears, had long since dried up on that desperate, rainy night five years ago. “Fine,” I forced out a flawless professional smile. “Since Mr. Ethan has spoken, I will comply. It’s just designing a pair of rings. I’m sure Ms. Chloe will be satisfied.” Ethan’s brows furrowed even deeper. He seemed surprised I agreed so readily. In his mind, I should have been mad with jealousy, should have hysterically questioned him, or even humbly begged him not to be so cruel. But I didn’t. I was as still as a dead pond. “You’d better keep your word,” Ethan abruptly flung my hand away, coldly tossing out, “Tomorrow morning, bring your tools to my villa and take Chloe’s measurements.” With that, he wrapped an arm around Chloe’s waist and walked away without looking back. I stood rooted to the spot, rubbing my wrist, which was now marked with a red imprint, and watched their receding figures coldly. Five years. Ethan, it’s time to settle our accounts.

Coming out of the ballroom, the rain outside was even heavier. I had no umbrella, letting the cold rain pelt down on me, soaking my expensive gown. It was late when I returned to my tiny, 30-square-meter rental apartment. I rented this place myself. Ethan owned countless mansions, but I never asked to move in. I knew my place: a hidden lover, unworthy of entering his formal world. Just as I pulled out my keys, the door was suddenly yanked open from inside. A strong smell of cheap cigarettes and alcohol wafted out. My heart sank. “Oh no,” I thought. “You little brat, you finally decided to come home!” A scruffy, fleshy-faced middle-aged man grabbed my hair and violently dragged me inside. It was my father, Frank. “Where’s the money? Hand over the money now!” Frank’s eyes were bloodshot, like a madman who had lost everything gambling, as he frantically patted me down. “I don’t have any money!” I struggled desperately, my scalp screaming in pain. “Last month’s salary was already taken by you to pay off gambling debts! Where would I have any money?” “Bullshit!” Frank slapped me hard across the face. With a sharp “smack,” I staggered, falling to the floor, instantly tasting blood in my mouth. “Do you think I’m a fool? You’re with that big boss, Ethan. He wouldn’t give you less money, would he? You unfilial daughter, living it up, enjoying the good life, watching your old man being chased by loan sharks, aren’t you?!” Frank yelled, frantically ransacking the room. My design sketches, brushes, and paints were strewn across the floor, trampled to pieces. “Stop it! Don’t touch my things!” I rushed forward, my eyes red, desperately shielding the scattered designs on the floor. Those were my life’s work, sketched out over countless sleepless nights! “Get lost!” Frank kicked me hard on the shoulder. I gasped in pain, cold sweat breaking out. “I’m telling you, Jade, if you don’t come up with five hundred thousand today, I’ll sell your sister, Stella, who’s still in high school, to a club to settle my debts!” Frank threatened viciously. “You wouldn’t dare!” I snapped my head up, glaring at him. “Frank, are you even human? Stella is your own daughter!” “So what if she’s my daughter? I brought you into this world, you owe me!” Frank sneered. “Three days. I’m only giving you three days. If you don’t come up with the money, just wait to pick your sister out of a club!” With that, he slammed the door and left. The room was a mess, as if ransacked by thieves. I curled up on the cold floor, my shoulder aching as if it would split, and tears finally began to fall. Why? Why, despite my desperate efforts, could I never escape this swamp? Just then, my phone vibrated in my bag. “Ethan” flashed on the screen. I took a deep breath, wiped my face frantically, and answered the call. “Where are you?” Ethan’s voice was cold and commanding. “Home.” I tried to keep my voice steady. “Half an hour. Get over here.” “Mr. Ethan, it’s one in the morning,” I bit out. “I’m a person, not your on-call machine.” There was a two-second silence on the other end, followed by a cold scoff. “Jade, your temper’s really grown, hasn’t it? What, still upset about the engagement rings?” “No, I’m not.” “Good,” Ethan’s tone was full of condescending generosity. “Come over. Chloe can’t sleep and wants to look at your old design drafts for inspiration. Bring them over and explain them to her yourself.” My hand, gripping the phone, tightened, my nails digging deeply into my palm. He wanted me to brave the heavy rain in the middle of the night, just to explain design drafts to his fiancée? “I’m sick. I can’t go,” I refused coldly. “Jade, don’t make me angry,” Ethan’s voice darkened. “Your sister, Stella, is taking her college entrance exams next month, isn’t she? I heard she wants to get into NYU? What do you think would happen if I made a call to NYU? Would she still get in?” It was always like this. For five years, he always knew my weaknesses, forcing me to bow, to compromise. He knew Stella was my life. “I’ll be right there.” Hanging up, I numbly got up from the floor, picked up the scattered designs, and put them back in my bag. The rain continued to fall. I stood by the road, waiting half an hour before finally getting a taxi. By the time I reached Ethan’s villa in the hills, I was shivering uncontrollably, my lips blue. The villa was brightly lit, warm as spring. I pushed open the door and saw Ethan lounging on the sofa in loose pajamas. Chloe was nestled in his arms like a lost puppy, wearing a silk slip dress, a warm glass of milk in her hand. Seeing me standing at the door, drenched like a drowned rat, Chloe gasped. “Oh my god, Jade, why are you so soaked? Come in and dry off!” She made to get up, but Ethan held her down. “Don’t worry about her. She’s perfectly fine,” Ethan said, not even lifting an eyelid, his gaze sweeping coldly over me. “Did you bring the designs?” I stood in the entryway, not changing my shoes. Cold rainwater dripped from my hair, spreading a dark stain on the carpet. I took out the stack of designs, slightly soiled by Frank’s footprints, from my bag and walked over to place them on the coffee table. “They’re all here,” my voice was hoarse. Ethan glanced at the footprints on the designs, his brows instantly knitting into a tight knot. “Jade, what kind of attitude is this? Are you trying to fool me with this garbage?” He violently threw the designs at my face. The sharp edges of the paper grazed my cheek, leaving a faint scratch that bled slightly. “Ethan, don’t get angry. Jade didn’t mean it,” Chloe quickly hugged Ethan’s arm, her voice soft and coaxing. Then she turned to me, looking with those innocent eyes, “Jade, are you upset about designing my ring, that you deliberately soiled the drafts? It’s really okay, I can find someone else…” “Shut up,” I cut her off coldly. Chloe flinched, her eyes welling up again. Ethan stood up abruptly, grabbing my throat and pinning me against the cold wall. “Jade, you dare to yell at her?!” His grip was incredibly strong; I instantly struggled to breathe, my face turning crimson. “Ethan…” I choked out, forcing the words from my throat. “Five years… even if you kept a dog… it would have some affection, wouldn’t it?” “Affection?” Ethan laughed, as if he’d heard the biggest joke, his eyes full of mockery. “Jade, do you really think you’re worthy of talking about affection with me? You’re just a tool I paid for, a plaything for my amusement. Did you actually think you were special?” His words were like a blunt knife, slowly cutting open my heart. In the face of such extreme pain, I actually smiled. “Yes, I’m not worthy,” I looked at him, my eyes growing colder by the second. “Mr. Ethan is right. A tool should know its place.” “Let me go. I’ll explain the designs to Ms. Chloe.” Ethan stared at my eyes, so calm they held no ripple of emotion, and a flicker of irritation crossed his face. He suddenly released me. I slid down the wall to the floor, clutching my throat and coughing violently. “Jade, remember your place,” Ethan looked down at me. “Dare to disrespect Chloe again, and I’ll make you regret it.”

For the next two hours, I sat kneeling by the coffee table like a soulless puppet, explaining each design draft, which I once cherished, to Chloe. Chloe listened intently, occasionally offering naive and ridiculous suggestions for modifications. Ethan sat nearby, playing with Chloe’s hair, his eyes fixed on me with an oppressive gaze. He was trying to find a hint of jealousy, grievance, or even collapse on my face. But I disappointed him. My face remained expressionless the entire time, my voice so steady that not a single note wavered. “This ‘Starry Night’ piece, I think the diamond is too small, not sparkly enough. Ethan, don’t you think a ten-carat pink diamond would be better?” Chloe pointed to one of my proudest works, asking sweetly. That was the wedding ring I had designed for myself. I had once fantasized that one day Ethan would hold it, kneeling on one knee to propose to me. Now, it had become a commodity to be picked apart by someone else. “Fine, if you like it, we’ll change it,” Ethan said, dotingly pinching her nose, then turned to me, his eyes instantly turning cold. “Did you hear that? The main diamond will be a ten-carat pink diamond, surrounded by pavé diamonds, the most luxurious possible.” “A ten-carat pink diamond requires extremely high hardness and cutting precision; this setting design cannot support it,” I pointed out the technical issue in a purely business-like tone. “That’s your problem,” Ethan said coldly. “If you can’t do it, get out of the company.” I was silent for two seconds, then nodded. “Okay, I’ll modify it.” At four in the morning, the explanation finally ended. Chloe yawned, leaning softly into Ethan’s arms. “Ethan, I’m sleepy.” “Go to sleep,” Ethan kissed her forehead, then scooped her up and carried her upstairs. He never looked at me again. He didn’t ask how I would get back so late, with the heavy rain still falling outside. I gathered my design drafts alone and walked out of the villa with heavy steps. The cold wind, mixed with rain, blew against me, but I no longer felt the cold. Because my heart had long since died completely. The next morning, I arrived at the villa promptly with my toolbox. Today, I was here to take Chloe’s measurements. As I walked into the living room, I saw Ethan and Chloe eating breakfast on the sofa. The atmosphere was sickeningly cozy. “Jade, have you had breakfast? Would you like to join us?” Chloe greeted me enthusiastically. “No, thank you, I’ve eaten.” I opened my toolbox and took out the measuring tape. “Ms. Chloe, please extend your hand.” Chloe obediently held out her hand. Her hand was fair and delicate, never having done a day of hard work. Unlike my hands, which were calloused from years of drawing and polishing jewelry, and had a bruise on the back from Frank’s kick last night. I lowered my head, carefully measuring her finger and noting down the data. “Hiss—” Chloe suddenly gasped, snatching her hand back. “Jade, you hurt me!” I paused. I was clearly using a soft measuring tape; it was impossible to hurt her. “What’s wrong?” Ethan immediately put down his knife and fork, anxiously grabbing Chloe’s hand to examine it. On the back of Chloe’s hand, a tiny red mark had appeared at some point. “I’m fine, Ethan, don’t blame Jade. She definitely didn’t mean to.” Chloe bit her lip apologetically, tears welling in her eyes. Ethan’s face instantly darkened to an alarming degree. He stood up abruptly and kicked my toolbox, sending it flying. Various precise measuring tools scattered across the floor with a harsh clang. “Jade, are you looking for a death wish?!” Ethan grabbed my collar, lifting me clean off the ground. “I didn’t hurt her.” I met his furious gaze, my voice calm. “That red mark, it wasn’t from me.” “Still trying to argue?!” Ethan was enraged. “Are you taking advantage of Chloe’s kindness to deliberately vent your anger on her? I warned you, put away your petty jealousy!” Jealousy? I looked at Ethan and suddenly found him utterly ridiculous. How could he possibly think I would still be jealous? “Mr. Ethan,” I took a deep breath, fighting the suffocating grip on my neck. “If you believe I’m not suited for this job, you can easily replace me. There’s no need to make false accusations.” “Are you threatening me?” Ethan’s eyes narrowed, staring at me dangerously. “I wouldn’t dare. I’m merely stating facts.” The two of us stood locked in a standoff, the air thick with tension. Just then, my phone rang. It was the hospital. “Is this Stella’s family? Stella was injured in a fight at school and is now in the emergency room. Please come immediately!” My mind buzzed, instantly going blank. Stella! “Let me go!” I struggled violently, with surprising strength, actually prying Ethan’s hand off me. I didn’t even bother picking up my tools; I dashed out like a madwoman. “Jade, where are you going? Stop!” Ethan roared behind me. I ignored him, my mind fixated solely on Stella. When I rushed into the hospital emergency room, Stella was lying on the bed, her face covered in blood, her forehead wrapped in thick bandages, already unconscious. “Doctor, how is my sister?” I grabbed the doctor’s arm, my voice trembling uncontrollably. “You’re the family, right? The patient suffered a severe blow to the head, resulting in a mild concussion, multiple soft tissue contusions on her body, and also…” The doctor paused, his eyes looking complex. “The patient has lacerations in her lower body. We suspect she may have been sexually assaulted, and we’ve already called the police.” Sexually assaulted?! Those words struck me like a lightning bolt, splitting my very being. My legs gave out, and I collapsed directly to the floor. How could this happen? Stella was so well-behaved, so obedient. How could something like this happen to her? “Frank… it must be him!” I clenched my fists, my nails digging into my flesh, drawing blood. He had threatened me just yesterday, and today Stella was in trouble. That bastard! How dare he!

I stayed by Stella’s bedside for an entire day and night. When she woke, she saw me and recoiled into the blankets like a frightened animal, trembling violently. “Jade… Jade, I’m scared…” she cried heartbrokenly, her eyes hollow and terrifying. I held her tight, my heart twisting in agony. The police came to take her statement, confirming my suspicions. It was Frank. To pay off his gambling debts, he had actually brought the debt collectors to the school gates and dragged Stella into a van. If not for a kind passerby who called the police, Stella might not have been alive right now. “Where is Frank?” I gritted my teeth, asking the police. “He ran off. We’re actively pursuing him,” the police sighed. “Ms. Jade, your father owes three million to an underground casino. Those people are desperate. You and your sister should be extra careful recently.” Three million. I closed my eyes in despair. Where was I going to get three million? In the past five years, I had only earned a fixed salary at Ethan’s company, most of which went into Frank’s bottomless pit of debt. Ethan, though wealthy, never gave anything for free; he demanded my unconditional obedience and flattery. Now, he was busy getting engaged to Chloe. How could he care about my survival? Besides, I no longer wanted to ask him for anything. I was too tired. After settling Stella, I walked out of the ward, leaning against the cold hallway wall, and pulled out my phone. In my contacts, I couldn’t find a single person I could borrow money from. These past few years, confined by Ethan, I had cut off almost all social connections. Just as I felt I had nowhere left to turn, a news notification popped up. [New York’s Julian family is offering a massive reward for a bride! Rumors say that Julian, the family’s young master, suffers from a hidden illness, is crippled, and has a violent temper. Multiple former fiancées have been driven to madness by his torment. The Julian family is now offering an astronomical ten billion in wedding money, seeking a lucky bride whose presence would bring him healing!] Julian. A man who held immense power in New York. I heard he was a madman, a devil. No woman who fell into his hands ever emerged whole. But that was ten billion. With that money, I could completely escape Frank, take Stella out of Los Angeles, and start over somewhere no one knew us. As for whether Julian was crippled or a devil, I didn’t care. I was already in hell; what difference would another hell make? Without hesitation, I dialed the contact number listed below the news article. “Hello, my name is Jade. My birth chart indicates…” The Julian family moved quickly. Less than two hours later, a black Rolls-Royce pulled up to the hospital entrance. A middle-aged man in a tuxedo, looking like a butler, approached me, his demeanor respectful yet distant. “Ms. Jade, you and Mr. Julian are a perfect match. As soon as you sign this prenuptial agreement, the ten billion in wedding money will be immediately transferred to your account. Furthermore, the Julian family will handle all your troubles, including your father’s gambling debts and your sister’s safety.” He handed me a thick document. I didn’t even look at it, flipping directly to the last page and signing my name. “Okay, I’ll marry him.” A flicker of surprise crossed the butler’s eyes; he hadn’t expected me to agree so readily. “Ms. Jade is a decisive woman,” the butler said, collecting the agreement. “The Julian family still has affairs to settle in Los Angeles for a few days. In three days, I will send someone to pick you up for New York. During these three days, you may attend to your private matters.” “Ding.” My phone chimed with a text message notification. Ten billion, transferred. Looking at that long string of zeros, I suddenly felt incredibly ironic. I had sold myself for five years, gaining nothing but scars. Now, I sold myself to a crippled madman and instantly owned the world. I immediately contacted the best security company to provide Stella with twenty-four-hour protection. Then, I returned to my rental apartment and began to sketch, polish, and set jewelry day and night. Ethan’s engagement rings, I had to finish them before I left. This was what I owed him; once I paid it back, I could leave cleanly. After two consecutive sleepless nights, my eyes were bloodshot, and my fingers were covered in cuts from the engraving tools. Blood seeped into the pink diamond ring setting, but I didn’t even flinch, just wiped it away expressionlessly and continued working. On the evening of the third day, a pair of exquisitely luxurious pink diamond rings were finally completed. I placed them into a beautiful velvet box. Then, from the deepest part under my bed, I pulled out a dusty metal box. Opening it, a black card lay inside. Five years ago, Ethan had casually tossed it to me when he first took me to his house. “Take this. It’s my black card, unlimited credit. If you’re with me, don’t embarrass me.” In these five years, I had never once used it. I placed it with the rings, packed everything up, and dialed Mark, Ethan’s assistant. “Mark, the rings are done. Please come pick them up.” Half an hour later, Mark’s car pulled up downstairs. He looked at my pale, haggard face, a hint of disdain flashing in his eyes. “Ms. Jade, why bother so much?” Mark said, taking the box with a sarcastic tone. “Mr. Ethan’s completely focused on Chloe now. Even if you work yourself to death, he won’t notice. Take my advice, just humble yourself, admit your mistake. If Mr. Ethan softens, he might even keep you around as a lover.” “You misunderstand,” I said, looking at him plainly. “My task is complete once I hand this to you. Also, there’s something else in the box. Please make sure to deliver it to Mr. Ethan personally.” Mark scoffed. “Another love token? Jade, Mr. Ethan is tired of your manipulation tactics.” I ignored his mockery and turned to leave. “Jade!” Mark called out behind me. “Tomorrow night is Mr. Ethan and Ms. Chloe’s engagement party. Mr. Ethan said you must attend. He wants you to see him put the ring on Ms. Chloe’s finger with your own eyes!” My steps paused for a moment, and a mocking smile touched my lips. “Alright,” I said without looking back. “I hope they’re utterly miserable and their line end.”

Back at the hospital, I immediately arranged for Stella to be transferred. The Julian family’s efficiency was remarkable; they not only arranged a private jet but also secured a spot at New York’s top private hospital, complete with a leading medical team. Sitting in the car en route to the airport, watching the Los Angeles nightscape recede outside the window, I let out a long, heavy sigh. This city, which had trapped me for five years, which held all my humiliation and despair, I was finally leaving it. “Jade, are we really going to New York?” Stella leaned on my shoulder, her voice still weak. “That person… Mr. Julian, will he really be a good person?” “No matter who he is, as long as he can protect you, I’m not afraid of anything,” I said, stroking her hair, my eyes firm. I had nothing left to lose. The worst-case scenario was simply death. At the same time, in Los Angeles’s most luxurious five-star hotel, Ethan’s engagement party was being prepared. Ethan sat in the VIP lounge, toying with the velvet box Mark had just delivered. “She really said that?” Ethan’s face was cold, his brows furrowed as he listened to Mark’s report. “Yes, those were Jade’s exact words,” Mark said, cautiously observing Ethan’s expression. “Mr. Ethan, it seems Jade is truly determined this time. She even returned your black card.” Ethan violently opened the box. A pair of dazzling pink diamond rings lay quietly inside, next to the black card he had given her five years ago. The card was spotless, without a single scratch, as if in these five years, she had never once touched his world. A strange irritation inexplicably filled Ethan’s chest. He slammed the box shut, letting out a cold laugh. “Playing hard to get. She thinks by returning the card, I’ll beg her to come back? Dream on!” “She’ll definitely come tomorrow,” Ethan’s tone was assertive. “She loves me so much she’s thrown away her dignity. How could she possibly stand by and watch me get engaged to Chloe? She’s just trying to force me to give in this way.” “You’re right, Mr. Ethan,” Mark quickly agreed. “A woman like Jade, without you, she wouldn’t even be able to eat. How could she truly leave?” Ethan leaned back on the sofa, closing his eyes, trying to suppress the strange panic in his heart. Yes, she couldn’t leave him. With just a flick of his finger, she would crawl back to him, begging, just like before. The next evening, the engagement party officially began. Almost all the prominent figures in Los Angeles were present. Chloe, in a dreamy wedding dress adorned with pavé diamonds, looked like a true princess, walking arm-in-arm with Ethan, accepting everyone’s blessings. Ethan, in a tailored suit, was exceptionally handsome. But his gaze kept sweeping towards the ballroom entrance. Time ticked by. The ballroom was filled with a glamorous atmosphere, clinking glasses, and dazzling lights, yet the familiar figure never appeared. “Ethan, what are you looking for?” A friend walked over with a drink, following Ethan’s gaze, and chuckled knowingly. “Waiting for Jade? Don’t bother. I bet she wouldn’t dare to come today. She’d only humiliate herself.” “Exactly, Ethan has a legitimate fiancée now. How could a hidden mistress have the nerve to show up at an event like this?” The surrounding crowd chimed in, their words full of contempt for Jade. Ethan said nothing, his face growing darker and darker. It was almost time for the ring exchange. Was she really not coming? How dare she not come?! “Ethan, it’s time, we should go up,” Chloe reminded softly, her eyes sparkling with excitement. Once he put the ring on her finger, she would be Mrs. Ethan, officially. Ethan took a deep breath, suppressing the anxiety in his heart, and walked onto the stage with Chloe. The emcee delivered an enthusiastic speech, then announced: “Now, please, the groom-to-be will place the engagement ring, symbolizing love, on the bride-to-be’s finger!” Ethan took the velvet box from Mark and slowly opened it. Under the lights, the pink diamonds shimmered dazzlingly. He took out the women’s ring, about to slip it onto Chloe’s finger. Suddenly, his gaze froze on the inside of the ring. There, engraved in tiny letters, were two initials: G.D. Go to Death. Ethan’s pupils contracted sharply, and his face instantly turned ashen. “Ethan? What’s wrong?” Chloe, seeing his hesitation, asked with a hint of confusion. Ethan slammed the ring box shut and roughly pushed Chloe aside. “The engagement party is canceled!” He tossed out the words, then strode off the stage amidst the stunned gazes of the entire room. “Ethan! Where are you going?!” Chloe cried out frantically from the stage, tears instantly streaming down her face. Ethan ignored her. He grabbed Mark by the collar, his eyes bloodshot. “Find out! Find out where Jade is immediately! Bring her back to me!” Mark trembled in fear, quickly pulling out his phone to make calls. A few minutes later, Mark, pale-faced, rushed back to Ethan, his voice shaking. “Mr. Mr. Ethan… Jade… she’s not in Los Angeles anymore.” “What do you mean?” Ethan’s hand clamped around his throat. “She canceled her apartment lease, and the hospital said she transferred her sister… Immigration records show that she… she flew to New York last night!” New York?! Ethan was struck as if by lightning, freezing in place. She was gone. Gone completely, without a trace of lingering affection. She had even slapped him hard at his most anticipated engagement party. “Jade…” Ethan muttered her name, gritting his teeth, and a sharp pain suddenly pierced his chest. He thought everything was under his control. But only at this moment did he realize, with horror, that the string tying Jade to him had broken.

The flight to New York landed smoothly. I pushed Stella in her wheelchair out of the VIP channel. At the channel exit, a line of black-suited bodyguards stood ready. Leading them was the butler I had met at the hospital that day. “Ms. Jade, welcome to New York,” the butler bowed slightly, his demeanor more respectful than before. “Mr. Julian is already waiting for you at the manor.” Now, I had suddenly become a stranger’s wife. “Thank you,” I nodded faintly. The motorcade drove out of the airport, heading towards the winding mountain roads on the outskirts of New York. The deeper we went, the more secluded the scenery became, even taking on a hint of eerie silence. Rumor had it that the Julian family manor was built halfway up a mountain, and for miles around, it was all private Julian land; not even a fly could get in. Half an hour later, the cars drove through a massive black iron gate. The castle-like manor stood in the night, like a slumbering beast, exuding a suffocating sense of oppression. I took a deep breath, tightening my grip on Stella’s hand. “Don’t be afraid,” I whispered, reassuring her. The cars stopped in front of the main building. The butler led me through a long corridor to a heavy mahogany door. “Ms. Jade, Mr. Julian is waiting for you inside. I will arrange for someone to look after Ms. Stella; please don’t worry.” I nodded, watched Stella being led away by a maid, and then pushed open the door. The room was dim, with no main lights on; only the flickering fire in the fireplace provided illumination. The air was filled with a faint scent of sandalwood mixed with herbs. I stood at the doorway, trying to adjust to the indoor light. “Come here.” A low, hoarse, yet profoundly penetrating voice came from the depths of the room. I looked towards the sound and, in the shadows by the fireplace, saw a wheelchair. A man sat in the wheelchair. Most of his body was hidden in the darkness, making his face indiscernible. But I could feel an intensely predatory gaze fixed on me. Like a hunter staring at its prey. I suppressed the tension in my heart and stepped forward. I stopped two steps in front of him. By the firelight, I finally saw his face. It was an impossibly pale, yet devilishly handsome face. His features were deep and defined, his jawline sharp as a blade, and his eyes, especially, were as black as a bottomless abyss, exuding a chilling ferocity. This was the rumored cruel and bloodthirsty young master of the Julian family, Julian. “Jade,” he parted his thin lips, slowly enunciating my name, with an indescribable tenderness. “Mr. Julian,” I slightly bowed my head, my tone calm. “Are you afraid of me?” He raised an eyebrow, his gaze falling on my unconsciously clenched hands. “No,” I met his eyes directly. “Since I’ve taken the Julian family’s money and signed the agreement, I am now a member of the Julian family. Whatever Mr. Julian wishes me to do, I will cooperate.” Julian suddenly let out a low laugh. The laughter echoed in the vast room, sending shivers down my spine. “Cooperate?” He abruptly leaned forward, grabbed my wrist, and pulled hard. Caught off guard, I tumbled into his arms. His chest was hard and cold, like a stone without warmth. “Jade, did you think you married me just to be a decoration?” Julian gripped my chin, forcing me to look up, his warm breath fanning my face. “What I want is all of you, from inside out, a complete and utter surrender.” His gaze was terrifying, like a burning black fire, threatening to consume me entirely. I didn’t struggle, just looked at him quietly. “Okay,” I said softly. “As long as you can protect my sister, my life is yours.” Julian’s movements abruptly froze. He stared intensely into my eyes, as if trying to find a trace of fear or hesitation. But in my eyes, there was only dead silence. After a long moment, he released me, coldly uttering a single word: “Get out.” I stood up, straightened my disheveled clothes, and walked out of the room. The moment I closed the door, I felt all the strength drain from my body. Julian was a thousand times more dangerous than Ethan. But I had no way back. Over the next few days, I was settled in a guest room in the manor. Aside from meals delivered by a maid, I didn’t see Julian again. Stella was enrolled in New York’s best private high school, with dedicated transportation, safe and sound. I finally lived the most peaceful days I’d had in five years. No more debt calls from Frank, no more humiliation from Ethan, no more manipulative tricks from Chloe. I spent my days in the room drawing, occasionally taking walks in the garden. Until a week later, the butler suddenly knocked on my door. “Ms. Jade, Mr. Julian would like you to go to the basement.” The basement? My heart skipped a beat. Rumor had it that Julian’s basement was a living hell. But I still obediently followed the butler downstairs. The basement was vast and dimly lit. As soon as I entered, I smelled a strong scent of blood. Julian sat in his wheelchair, his back to me. Before him, a man knelt, beaten to a bloody pulp. “Jade, come see who this is,” Julian turned his wheelchair, revealing the man’s face. My pupils constricted sharply, and all the blood in my body instantly froze. It was Frank!

The man who was once so arrogant, who used to beat and kick me without hesitation, now lay sprawled on the ground like a dead dog. His face was covered in blood, and all ten of his fingers were brutally broken, twisted into grotesque shapes. Hearing footsteps, Frank laboriously lifted his head. Seeing me, an intense survival instinct erupted in his cloudy eyes, and he scrambled towards me, crawling on his hands and knees. “Jade! Jade! Save your dad! Quick, save your dad! This madman is going to kill me!” He hadn’t even touched my clothes before a bodyguard next to him kicked him down. “Stay still!” the bodyguard snapped. I stood rooted, coldly watching Frank’s pained wails on the ground, feeling not a shred of sympathy, only deep disgust. “Mr. Julian, what is the meaning of this?” I turned to Julian. Julian leaned back in his wheelchair, toying with a sharp dagger, and said nonchalantly, “Don’t you hate him? I brought him here for you to deal with. You can torment him however you wish.” He tossed the dagger to my feet, where it landed with a crisp clink. “Kill him, or cripple him, whatever makes you happy,” Julian’s eyes sparkled with bloodlust, as if watching an entertaining play. Frank was terrified, his liver and guts churning, and he desperately knelt down to me. “Jade, I was wrong! I truly know I was wrong! I’m your biological dad, you can’t kill me! When you were little, I even bought you candy, don’t you remember?!” Bought me candy? I only remembered him getting drunk and whipping me with a belt until I was covered in wounds; I only remembered him trying to sell Stella into a fire pit for gambling money. I bent down and picked up the dagger from the floor. The dagger was heavy, its blade gleaming coldly. Frank’s wails instantly ceased. He stared at me in terror, his pants instantly wet. “Jade… you… you wouldn’t dare…” I gripped the dagger and walked step by step towards him. Julian watched me from his wheelchair, a playful smile on his lips. He seemed to be anticipating the insane sight of me personally taking my father’s life. I looked down at Frank, at his face distorted by fear. “Frank, you should have died long ago,” my voice was icy, devoid of any warmth. I raised the dagger and plunged it down forcefully! “Ah—!” Frank let out a pig-like shriek, tightly closing his eyes. “Clink!” The dagger grazed his cheek, embedding itself deeply into the concrete floor beside him, sparks flying. Frank convulsed in fear, passing out cold. I released the dagger, stood up, and turned to Julian. “Mr. Julian, it’s not worth getting my hands dirty,” I said calmly. “The money he owed the underground casino, the Julian family has already repaid. From this day forward, I cut all ties with him. Throw him out. Whether he lives or dies, it has nothing to do with me.” The playfulness in Julian’s eyes gradually faded, replaced by a deep, probing look. He stared at me for a long time, then suddenly chuckled softly. “Jade, you’re even more ruthless than I imagined.” Killing a man is easy, but breaking his spirit is far more terrifying. Throwing a crippled, penniless gambler back onto the streets was a fate far worse than death. “Thank you for the compliment, Mr. Julian,” I bowed slightly. “If there’s nothing else, I’ll return to my room.” “Wait,” Julian called out to me. He maneuvered his wheelchair and slowly glided in front of me. “Over in Los Angeles, Ethan is searching for you everywhere,” Julian stared into my eyes, his voice carrying a hint of danger. “He even put out a word that anyone who dares to hide you is making an enemy of the Ethan family.” Hearing Ethan’s name, my heart skipped a beat, but my face remained impassive. “I’m already married into the Julian family. Los Angeles affairs have nothing to do with me.” “Is that so?” Julian suddenly reached out and pinched the back of my neck, pulling me closer to him. “Jade, you’d better remember what you said today. If you dare betray me, I’ll show you what true living hell feels like.” His hand was cold, wrapping around my neck like a snake. I didn’t flinch, meeting his gaze. “Mr. Julian, don’t worry. I, Jade, never go back on my word.” Los Angeles. Ethan hadn’t slept for three days. He had turned all of Los Angeles upside down, even using all his connections, legitimate and otherwise, but still couldn’t find a trace of Jade. She had vanished into thin air. “Mr. Ethan, still no news…” Mark reported, trembling. “Ms. Jade’s flight information was erased. We can’t trace where she went.” “Useless! All of you are useless!” Ethan roared, smashing the computer on his desk. “A living person can’t just sprout wings and fly away, can they?!” Chloe stood nearby, her eyes red, not daring to speak. For these three days, Ethan had been ice-cold towards her, refusing to even spare her a glance. The man who was once so compliant with her now had only one woman on his mind. “Ethan, don’t be like this…” Chloe bravely walked over, trying to embrace him. “If Jade wants to leave, let her go. You still have me…” “Get out!” Ethan violently shoved her away, his eyes terrifyingly sinister. “Who told you to touch me?” Chloe fell to the floor, staring at him in disbelief. “Ethan, I’m your fiancée! You’re doing this to me for a woman who doesn’t want you?” “Fiancée?” Ethan sneered, looking down at her. “If it weren’t for your face bearing a slight resemblance to her when she first started with me, do you think you’d be standing here?” Chloe was struck as if by lightning, her face instantly turning chalk-white. A stand-in. Her proud love was nothing more than a pathetic stand-in! Ethan no longer paid attention to the distraught Chloe. He turned to the floor-to-ceiling window, looking out at the gray sky. Jade, do you think you can escape? Even if I have to turn this city upside down, I will find you, break your legs with my own hands, and lock you by my side forever!

My days at the Julian family manor were surprisingly peaceful. Although Julian’s temper was unpredictable, he never inflicted any substantial harm on me, aside from occasionally staring at me with that intensely predatory gaze. He spent most of his days in the study or the basement. As for me, I poured all my energy into new design sketches. I needed money. Although the Julian family had given me ten billion in wedding money, that was money to buy out my entire life. I didn’t want to depend on Julian forever; I needed my own career and my own foundation. That afternoon, I was sketching in the glass conservatory in the garden when the butler suddenly entered. “Ms. Jade, Mr. Julian would like you to go to the front hall.” “Guests?” I put down my paintbrush, a little puzzled. Julian was reclusive; hardly any outsiders ever came to the manor. “Guests from Los Angeles,” the butler said, his eyes lowered, his tone respectful yet with a hint of something unusual. Los Angeles. Those two words felt like a thorn, sharply piercing my nerves. I took a deep breath and stood up. “I understand.” When I reached the front hall, the air pressure was suffocatingly low. Julian sat in his wheelchair at the head of the table, toying with an antique signet ring, his expression inscrutable. Across from him stood a man with bloodshot eyes and a scruffy beard. Ethan. He had lost a lot of weight, his once tailored suit now looking somewhat baggy, and his entire being exuded a sense of decadent and madness. The moment he saw me, Ethan’s eyes instantly lit up. “Jade!” He rushed forward, trying to grab my hand. “Bang!” A gunshot. A bullet grazed Ethan’s foot and embedded itself in the expensive carpet, releasing a wisp of blue smoke. Julian calmly blew the smoke from the gun barrel, his eyes coldly fixed on Ethan. “Mr. Ethan, on my Julian family’s territory, touching my wife—are you tired of living?” Ethan’s steps abruptly halted. He stared intensely at me, his eyes bloodshot, his voice hoarse and broken. “Jade, come here. Come home with me.” Home. Those words, coming from his mouth, were utterly ironic. I stood by Julian’s side, looking at him coldly. “Mr. Ethan, please show some respect. This is the Julian family residence, and I am Julian’s wife.” “Wife?” Ethan laughed, as if he’d heard the biggest joke, his voice rising sharply. “You’d rather marry a cripple, a madman, than stay by my side?!” “Ethan!” I sharply cut him off. “Shut your mouth!” I would not allow him to insult Julian. At least, Julian, in my most desperate moment, had given Stella and me a way out. While Ethan had only pushed me towards death. “You’re defending him?” Ethan looked at me in disbelief, his eyes filled with hurt and rage. “Jade, you were with me for five years! Our five years of affection mean less than this cripple’s dirty money?!” “Affection?” I let out a cold laugh, my eyes full of mockery. “Ethan, do you really think you’re worthy of talking about affection with me? When you forced me to design engagement rings for your fiancée, did you think about our affection? When you allowed Frank to almost destroy my sister, did you think about our affection?!” “I didn’t!” Ethan quickly explained. “I didn’t know Frank would do such a thing! If I had known, I would have…” “Would have what?” I cut him off coldly. “Would have acted just like before, condescendingly bestowing a little pity, and then using that as leverage to force me to continue being your obedient dog?” Ethan was left speechless, his face ashen. “Ethan, we’re long past due on settling our accounts,” I looked at him, my voice as calm as still water. “Those rings were the last thing I owed you. From now on, whether you live or die, it has nothing to do with me, Jade. Get out. Don’t ever appear before me again. You disgust me.” “I’m not leaving!” Ethan suddenly pulled out a gun and pointed it directly at Julian. “Jade, you’re coming with me today! Otherwise, I’ll kill him!” He was insane. He actually dared to point a gun at Julian on Julian family territory. The bodyguards around us instantly drew their guns; dozens of black barrels were pointed at Ethan. With a single command from Julian, Ethan would be riddled with bullets. But Julian merely smiled. He casually tossed his gun onto the table, then maneuvered his wheelchair and slowly glided right in front of Ethan’s gun barrel. “Shoot,” Julian tilted his head slightly, his eyes filled with contempt and provocation. “Ethan, let me see how much guts you have, daring to steal a woman from me, Julian.” Ethan’s hand, holding the gun, trembled violently. His veins bulged on his forehead as he stared intensely at Julian, yet he hesitated to pull the trigger. He didn’t dare. Because he knew that if he fired, the Ethan family would face devastating retaliation from the Julian family. “Useless,” Julian scoffed, then suddenly reached out and grabbed the hot gun barrel. “Crack!” A sickening crunch of bone echoed. Julian had actually broken Ethan’s wrist with his bare hand! “Ah—!” Ethan shrieked, the gun falling to the floor. Bodyguards swarmed him, pinning him to the ground. “Throw him back to Los Angeles,” Julian took out a pristine white handkerchief and calmly wiped his fingers. “Tell the Ethan family patriarch that if he can’t control his grandson, I don’t mind teaching him a lesson. But next time, it won’t just be a broken wrist.” Ethan was dragged out by the bodyguards like a dead dog. He struggled desperately, his eyes fixed on me, still desperately screaming my name. “Jade! Jade—!” His voice grew fainter, until it completely disappeared. The front hall returned to a deathly silence. I stood rooted, looking at the spot where Ethan had stood, my heart utterly calm, feeling only the satisfaction of avenging a great wrong. “Did that hurt you?” Julian’s voice suddenly sounded by my ear. I turned my head, meeting his deep, dark eyes. “No,” I said calmly. “I just found him pathetic.” Julian stared at me for a long time, then suddenly reached out and pulled me into his arms. I fell into his lap, my nostrils filled with the cool, sandalwood scent of him. “Jade,” he gripped my chin, forcing me to look at him. “Remember what you said today. You are mine. This life, next life, you’ll never escape.” He lowered his head and kissed my lips fiercely. A kiss filled with punishment, possession, and reckless abandon. I closed my eyes, offering no resistance, submitting to his plunder. I knew that from this moment on, my life, Jade’s life, was completely bound to this man named Julian.

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Seven years of marriage. Ethan saw me as dirty, as old. He turned around and got involved with a younger college student. His reason? “You threw yourself at me when you were sixteen, like some cheap escort. Who knows how many men a manipulative woman like you has slept with since?” He held Lily Sterling close, his eyes tender. “Lily is pure and untouched. She was twenty when she lost her virginity to me. I’m her only man.” He forgot. When he was sixteen, he was the one begging me to get into his bed. Someone had drugged him with an aphrodisiac, and I gave myself to him to save his life. He’d pulled a blanket over my kiss-marked body back then and soothed, “My darling, I’ll be good to you my whole life.” Seven years together. I took blades for him, my hands stained with blood and dirtied by schemes. All I got in return was him turning to embrace his “pure” new love. This time, I didn’t make a scene. I took off my wedding ring and walked away. Ethan’s friends all bet on when I’d come back. But day after day, I remained silent. No word from me. Ethan couldn’t sit still anymore. He called me. “Amelia, you’ve caused enough trouble. Come back.” But a low chuckle came. A man’s voice. “Mr. Hayes, you take too long chasing your girl. Someone else might beat you to it.”

Amelia’s POV The New York rainy season was damp, cold, and sticky. The briny wind from New York Harbor lashed relentlessly against the floor-to-ceiling windows of our hillside mansion. I sat alone at the dining table. The Wellington steak on my plate was long cold, the fat congealed. The candles had burned out, their last embers extinguished by the wind. The dining room plunged into total darkness. Today marked seven years since Ethan Hayes and I first met. Seven years ago today, amidst the bloody turf wars of Brooklyn, I took a fatal knife wound for him. A hideous, indelible scar still marred my back. It was also that day that a penniless Ethan, kneeling in the mud, cradled my bloody face and swore that one day, he’d make me the most respected woman in all of New York. Now, Hayes Enterprises had expanded its reach to an unimaginable scale. He had become Ethan Hayes, a name whispered with fear in the business world. And I was his sharpest blade, hidden in the shadows. Amelia, the ruthless force behind Hayes Enterprises. My phone screen suddenly lit up in the darkness, stinging my eyes. It was Mark, Ethan’s assistant, his voice tinged with guilt. “Amelia… Mr. Hayes might not be able to make it back tonight. There’s an issue at the South Precinct, and Mr. Hayes is handling it.” My breath hitched, my heart seized. I hung up the phone, grabbed my car keys, and rushed out into the pouring rain. In the corridor of the South Precinct, the harsh white fluorescent lights made my head spin. I strode in on three-inch heels, dressed in a sharply tailored black business suit, trailing icy rainwater. However, the scene before me shattered all my pride and all my worry. Ethan sat on a bench in the corridor. The man who was cold and ruthless at the negotiation table, who never even furrowed a brow, was now taking off his warm, tailored suit. With gentle, almost careful movements, he draped it over a young girl. The girl wore a faded cotton dress, her blonde hair disheveled, her eyes swollen and red. She huddled in Ethan’s arms, her hands clutching the hem of his shirt as if he were her only hope in the world. “Don’t be afraid. I’m here. No one can touch you.” Ethan’s voice was deep and gentle, a tone I hadn’t heard in three whole years. I stood in the shadows a few steps away, watching the scene with cold eyes. I knew the girl. Her name was Lily Sterling. Ethan had ‘rescued’ her, a college student, from his enemies three months ago during a corporate turf war. “Ethan.” I spoke, my voice surprisingly calm, so calm that even I found it unbelievable. Ethan looked up at the sound of my voice. The moment he saw me, a flicker of irritation crossed his eyes, but he didn’t release his arm from around Lily’s shoulder. “What are you doing here?” “Have you forgotten what day it is?” I took a step forward, my gaze falling on Lily’s hands, which were desperately gripping Ethan’s clothes. The sight was so jarring it felt like it was burning my retina. “Lily was being tracked by my enemies and almost got hurt. I had to come deal with it.” Ethan’s tone was matter-of-fact, even carrying a hint of annoyance at being disturbed. “It’s just an anniversary. Tomorrow, I’ll have accounting transfer you some money. You can pick out any gift you like.” Lily timidly peeked out from Ethan’s embrace, her voice trembling, thick with tears. “I’m so sorry… it’s all my fault. I shouldn’t have called Mr. Hayes for help while he was in a meeting, ruining your anniversary…” “If you knew it would ruin it, why did you call?” My gaze, sharp as a blade, pierced Lily with not a hint of warmth. “Amelia!” Ethan’s voice suddenly rose, pulling Lily tightly behind him. His eyes, when he looked at me, were full of reproach and disappointment. “She’s just an innocent college student. What does she know of corporate schemes? Don’t look at her with that calculating gaze you cast on everyone!” Innocent? Calculating? Like a poison-tipped dagger, his words plunged into my heart, twisting cruelly. Seven years ago, I was also an innocent New York beauty pageant queen, with a promising future. Who drank herself sick, to the point of a stomach hemorrhage, at a dinner party, just to help him secure his first startup capital? Who walked alone into a negotiation room in the heart of Brooklyn’s underworld to appease his enemies? All my grit, all the blood on my hands, all the schemes in my mind, were for the sole purpose of keeping him pure and untouched on his throne. But now, he found me dirty. My hands, hanging by my sides, slowly clenched. My neatly manicured nails dug deep into my palms, breaking the skin, bringing a sharp pang of pain. I fought back the coppery taste of blood in my throat, forcing a smile that was both utterly cold and strikingly beautiful. “Fine. If Mr. Hayes intends to play the hero, I won’t intrude.” I turned and walked back into the rain, my spine ramrod straight, without looking back. The cold rain lashed mercilessly against my face. I closed my eyes, letting the icy water wash over my eyelids. Seven years of companionship, ultimately no match for the pristine face of a newcomer. I should have known. Birds and fish, after all, were never meant to cross paths.

Amelia’s POV New York media has always been sharper than a vulture’s eye. Overnight, the headlines of all major entertainment and financial sections had shifted direction. Hayes Heir Plays Hero! Mysterious Pure College Student Rises, Ex-Beauty Queen Amelia’s Seven-Year High-Society Dream Shattered! The accompanying photo was from the previous night at the precinct entrance: Ethan carefully shielding Lily as she got into the car. The photo was beautifully composed. In the pouring rain, the man’s tall frame created a shelter from the wind and rain for the girl. I sat in the Vice President’s office on the top floor of Hayes Enterprises, expressionlessly tossing the newspaper into the shredder. Accompanied by the machine’s dull grinding sound, the jarring headlines turned into a pile of meaningless waste paper. The frosted glass door of my office opened, and Ethan walked in, carrying the lingering chill of the outside. He glanced at the shredder, his brow slightly furrowed. “The media is writing nonsense. I’ll have the PR department suppress the buzz. Don’t go making trouble for Lily.” My hand, as I flipped through documents, froze. I looked up, meeting the eyes of the man I had lived with for seven years, my gaze filled with absurd mockery. “Ethan, you came to my office this early just to warn me not to touch your mistress?” “Amelia, do we really have to speak to each other with such sarcastic tones?” Ethan walked to my desk, leaning his hands on the surface, looking down at me with a hint of pressure in his voice. “Lily is very sensitive. She can’t handle the dirty tactics of your circles. Last night’s incident scared her badly, so I plan to have her move into the hillside mansion for a while. It has the most robust security system.” The hillside mansion. It felt like someone had punched me hard in the chest. That was the first home Ethan and I had chosen together, furnished ourselves, after he made his first fortune. Every piece of furniture in it, even every white rose in the garden, I had personally tended to. He once held me by the mansion’s floor-to-ceiling windows, promising me that it was a safe haven meant only for the two of us, where no one else could intrude. “You’re moving her into the hillside mansion?” “She’s just staying temporarily.” Ethan avoided my overly clear gaze, turning to look out the window. “You own many properties; you can move into the spacious apartment in Long Island for a while. Lily is timid. She’ll feel uncomfortable if you’re there.” To make another woman comfortable, he was kicking me, the actual mistress of the house, out? I felt as though my body was submerged in ice water, so cold I almost trembled. I stared at the man before me. His features were still deep and handsome, but his eyes, which once held only me, were now filled with a blatant favoritism and protectiveness for another woman. “What if I don’t move?” Ethan’s face instantly darkened, his voice taking on the coldness of a superior. “Amelia, stop being childish. You weren’t this unreasonable before. Lily isn’t like you; you’re strong enough. What storms haven’t you weathered in the business world? But she can’t. She’s a blank slate; even a slight gust of wind could tear her apart. I have to protect her.” Because she was strong, I should concede; because I had weathered storms, I deserved to be stripped of my sanctuary. My heart, at that moment, was crushed into dust, inch by agonizing inch. I suddenly felt that these seven years of my youth were a colossal joke. I molded myself into a strong woman to protect him, only for that strength to become his reason to discard me. “Fine, I’ll move.” I lowered my eyelids, concealing the desolate emptiness in my eyes. “Ethan, I’ll leave the keys to the hillside mansion at the door tonight. I hope you both enjoy your stay.” That evening, I packed all my personal belongings in just an hour. There wasn’t much, actually. Over the years, I had poured all my energy into expanding Hayes Enterprises. The personal items belonging to me in the mansion were pathetically few. As I dragged my suitcase to the door, the code lock chimed. Ethan walked in with Lily. Lily wore a new pair of pink bunny slippers. Seeing my suitcase, her eyes instantly reddened. “Are you really leaving? Or maybe I should leave instead. I don’t want to ruin your relationship because of me…” “If you didn’t want to ruin it, you shouldn’t have stepped through this door in the first place.” I cut her off coldly, not bothering to spare her an extra glance. “Amelia!” Ethan roared, pulling Lily into his embrace, glaring at me. “Why are you yelling at her? I’m the one who asked her to come!” I didn’t look at them again. I placed the keys, which had absorbed my warmth for seven years, on the shoe cabinet by the door. “Ethan, I don’t want this house anymore.” I pushed open the door and walked into the dense New York night without a backward glance. It was stormy, but I didn’t carry an umbrella. Because no one would shelter me from the rain anymore.

Amelia’s POV After moving out of the hillside mansion, I threw all my energy into endless work. I tried to numb myself with hectic international meetings and high-intensity negotiations. The moment my brain stopped functioning for a second, a dull, sharp ache would throb in my heart, reminding me how ridiculous those seven years of sacrifice had been. A week later, New York’s annual top-tier charity gala was held at the Waldorf Astoria. As one of the owners of Hayes Enterprises, I walked the red carpet alone, dressed in a black velvet haute couture gown. I was still stunningly beautiful. The cool detachment in my eyes added an aura of untouchable regality. The media and socialites who had come to witness my downfall instinctively silenced themselves the moment they met my icy gaze. However, as the gala was halfway through and a graceful waltz had just begun, a hushed stir suddenly rippled through the crowd. The heavy doors of the ballroom were pushed open by a waiter. Ethan, in a tailored tuxedo, entered with a figure draped in pure white: Lily Sterling. Lily was clearly attending such a high-society event for the first time. She clung nervously to Ethan, like an ugly duckling who had stumbled into a flock of swans. But what truly made all the socialites gasp in awe, and even green with envy, was the diamond necklace around Lily’s neck. The Tears of Victoria! Three years ago, Ethan had acquired that peerless pink diamond at Sotheby’s auction house for an exorbitant price. At the time, all of New York’s media had widely reported that it was Ethan’s chosen accessory for my wedding gown. My hand, holding the champagne flute, trembled violently, nearly spilling the golden liquid. Ethan had once personally placed that necklace around my neck. It was on the eve of Hayes Enterprises’ greatest crisis. He had wrapped his arms around me from behind, pressing the cold diamonds against my collarbone, his voice hoarse as he promised: “Amelia, once we overcome this hurdle, once Hayes Enterprises rings the bell for its IPO, I’ll marry you with this necklace.” Now, Hayes Enterprises had long gone public. The grand bell-ringing ceremony was still vivid in my memory. Yet, that necklace, laden with his promise, now adorned another woman’s neck. “Amelia, Mr. Hayes is really playing favorites, isn’t he?” A rival, who had always been at odds with me, chuckled lightly, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “He spent so much money on you back then, and now he’s given it to some nobody with no background. Men, you know, they still prefer innocent, pure, and easy-to-control women.” I ignored the cold taunts of others. My gaze cut through the bustling crowd, fixing directly on Ethan. Ethan seemed to sense my stare. He turned, and our eyes met across the room. A flicker of awkwardness crossed Ethan’s eyes, but he didn’t walk over. Instead, he leaned down and whispered something to Lily. Lily followed Ethan’s gaze and saw me. She bit her lip, then surprisingly, took Ethan’s hand and, weaving through the crowd, walked towards me. “Amelia.” Lily lowered her head slightly, but her hand unconsciously caressed the pink diamond around her neck, her posture timid yet radiating a hidden smug satisfaction. “This necklace… Ethan said my dress was too plain tonight, so he lent it to me. Please don’t misunderstand, I don’t mean anything by it.” Her words perfectly balanced feigned innocence with blatant showing off. Looking at her pitiful act, a wave of visceral disgust churned in my stomach. I looked at Ethan coldly, my eyes full of derision. “Mr. Hayes’ taste is certainly unique. Pairing a priceless heirloom worth millions with a simple white dress doesn’t that seem like a waste?” “Amelia, watch your tone!” Ethan’s face darkened, and he instinctively shielded Lily behind him. “Lily doesn’t understand these luxury items. I insisted she wear it. Don’t be so aggressive here just because of a necklace.” “I’m aggressive?” I let out a bitter laugh, but my eyes stung. “Ethan, do you have any idea what this necklace means to me?” “That’s all in the past.” Ethan cut me off coldly, his eyes cold and rational. “You have everything now. Shares in Hayes Enterprises, status, wealth, reputation. Why do you insist on fighting Lily over a necklace? She has nothing. She only has me.” His words struck me like a lightning bolt. I had everything? I gave up my own life, stained my hands with corporate schemes and dirt, earned myself a bad reputation, only to be dismissed with a casual “she has everything”? I looked at the man before me, the man I had cultivated with seven years of my youth, and suddenly felt utterly alienated, so much so that it terrified me. “Fine, very well.” I nodded slowly, draining the champagne in my hand. The cold liquid slid down my throat, burning like a knife. “Since Mr. Hayes is so generous, consider this necklace my welcome gift to Ms. Sterling. After all, I find things used by others… dirty.” With that, I placed the empty glass heavily on a waiter’s tray and turned, walking out of the ballroom with resolute pride. I didn’t cry. My tears had long since run dry in the countless dark nights I spent taking bullets for him.

Amelia’s POV My origins in the New York business world had always been a mystery no one dared to pry into. The media only knew that I grew up in an orphanage, won a beauty pageant with my stunning looks, and then plunged into Ethan’s business empire. But only I knew that for over two decades, I had never given up searching for my birth parents. The day after the charity gala, my long-term private investigator finally delivered a thick DNA test report and background check to my desk. The report showed that I wasn’t an abandoned orphan at all, but the daughter of the prominent Boston Sterling family, lost for twenty-two years. Yet, fate seemed to have a cruel sense of humor. Attached to the last page of the investigation report was a recent family photo of the Sterling household. In the photo, my parents were celebrating a girl’s birthday, their faces beaming with loving smiles. The girl, wearing a crown and smiling with innocent joy, was Lily Sterling. Lily Sterling, the replacement child adopted from an orphanage by the Sterling family, who were heartbroken after losing their daughter. The woman who stole my man had also brazenly occupied my rightful life. I stared at the report, my fingers trembling slightly. An indescribable sense of absurdity enveloped me. I didn’t contact the Sterling family immediately. Instead, clutching the report, I drove to Ethan’s exclusive club. Deep down, I still held a faint, fragile glimmer of hope. I wanted to tell him that I had found my family, that I was no longer the destitute orphan. I wanted to see if, upon learning the truth, he would show even a trace of emotion. The club’s corridors were thickly carpeted, my footsteps barely audible. As I reached the door of Ethan’s private VIP suite, it was slightly ajar, and Lily’s suppressed, tearful sobs drifted out. “Ethan, I’m so scared… The Sterling family is looking for their biological daughter from years ago. I heard they already have a lead. If that girl comes back, Mom and Dad won’t love me anymore. I’m just a replacement; I’ll lose everything…” I stopped, my hand frozen on the doorknob. Then came Ethan’s deep, gentle, and utterly doting voice, filled with boundless indulgence. “Don’t be afraid, Lily. With me, no one can take what’s yours.” “But what if their biological daughter tries to kick me out? What if she hates me?” Lily cried piteously. “Then I’ll make sure she can’t survive in the entire business world.” Ethan’s voice suddenly turned cold, laced with a chilling cruelty. “I don’t care whether the Sterlings agree to let their biological daughter come home. But on my turf, as long as I’m here, you are the Sterling family’s only heiress. Anyone who dares to make you suffer will pay the price. Even the Sterling’s biological daughter.” Outside the door, I felt as if plunged into an ice bath. A chill shot from the soles of my feet to the top of my head, freezing my entire body. I looked down at the crumpled DNA report in my hand, suddenly finding it incredibly laughable. I had foolishly hoped to share the joy of finding my family with him, yet he had already preemptively warned me off, his own biological daughter, for his mistress’s sake. It turned out the boundary between love and no love could be so stark. For Lily Sterling, he could relentlessly destroy anyone, including Amelia, the woman who had helped him build his career and taken a knife for him. I didn’t push the door open. I stood quietly outside, listening to the man’s tender words to another woman within. Then, slowly, I tore the DNA test report in my hand into shreds. White paper flakes drifted from my fingers, like a silent snowfall, burying my last shred of hope and weakness. I turned to leave, my spine still straight. But the heart that had loved Ethan for seven years had, at that moment, completely stopped beating. From now on, I needed no love, no family.

Amelia’s POV Two weeks later, the Sterling family officially entered the New York market, hosting a grand celebration gala at The Plaza Hotel. The Sterlings grandly announced that they had found their long-lost daughter, but to protect her privacy, her identity would remain undisclosed for now. At the same time, Daniel Sterling emphatically stated to the media that their adopted daughter, Lily Sterling, remained the Sterling family’s most beloved daughter, her status unshakeable. As an indispensable figure in the New York business world, I received an invitation. Dressed in a fiery red gown, I appeared at the gala, coolly stunning. No one knew that I was the true protagonist of this evening, the daughter deliberately hidden, even guarded against, by my own birth parents. In the hotel’s garden, the massive outdoor pool shimmered, reflecting New York’s dazzling neon lights. I stood by the poolside, holding a wine glass, trying to suppress the churning turmoil in my chest. Faint footsteps approached from behind, accompanied by a cloyingly sweet perfume. “Amelia, what a coincidence.” Lily, in a custom-made princess dress, walked up to me like a triumphant swan. The Lily of this moment no longer exhibited the timidity and innocence she showed Ethan. Her eyes held an undisguised malice and smug satisfaction. “Do you need something?” I couldn’t even bother to spare her a glance, my eyes still fixed on the distant night skyline. Lily leaned closer, lowering her voice to a whisper meant only for us. “Amelia, I actually saw the Sterling family’s investigation report a long time ago. I know you’re the real Sterling daughter who was lost.” My hand, holding the wine glass, paused slightly. I turned, looking at her coldly. “But so what?” Lily’s smile was vicious and unrestrained. “Mom and Dad chose not to reveal you to spare my feelings. And Ethan… he even personally warned the Sterling family that if you dared to come back and bully me, he would cut off all cooperation with them.” “Amelia, so what if you’re high-born? The man you loved for seven years is now my protector. You’re destined to be a pitiful soul no one wants.” Looking at Lily’s arrogant face, I felt no anger, only a bleak desolation in my heart. “Are you done?” My tone was indifferent, as if I were watching a clown. “If you’re finished, leave.” Lily’s eyes flashed, and a strange smile curved her lips. She suddenly lunged backward. “Ah!” With a piercing scream, Lily fell into the deep pool, splashing a huge amount of water. “Lily!” A furious roar erupted from nearby. Ethan rushed over like a madman, not even taking off his suit jacket, and unhesitatingly leaped into the pool, pulling the flailing Lily to the surface. The commotion drew all the guests, including my parents, who rushed over upon hearing the news. Ethan carried a soaking wet, shivering Lily ashore. Lily immediately clung to his neck, sobbing uncontrollably. “Ethan, I’m so scared… I just wanted to say hello to Amelia, why did she push me down…” Ethan’s head snapped up, his dark eyes burning with fury. He stared at me like an enemy. “Amelia! You’re utterly insane!” Ethan gritted his teeth. “Are you using those dirty tricks from the business world on Lily now? What did she ever do to you to deserve such malice?” “I didn’t push her.” I stood ramrod straight, my voice clear and cold, without a trace of panic. Slap! A sharp slap cracked through the night air, interrupting my defense. It wasn’t Ethan who slapped me, but a furious Mrs. Sterling, my birth mother. Mrs. Sterling trembled with rage, pointing a finger at my nose and cursing. “You evil woman! Lily is so kind, how dare you push her! I’m warning you, if anything happens to Lily, our Sterling family will not let you get away with it!” I turned my head. Five red marks rapidly appeared on my fair cheek, bringing an unbearable pang of pain. I looked at my birth mother, glaring at me, then at Ethan, who was tightly embracing Lily, his eyes filled with disgust for me. Everyone present was condemning me, insulting me. I stood alone, like a monster abandoned by the world. “Ethan,” I suddenly smiled, a beautiful, heartbreaking smile, my eyes filled with shattered despair. “In your eyes, I’m such a monster, capable of murder out of jealousy, aren’t I?” Ethan looked at my smile, then coldly turned his gaze away. “You disappoint me greatly.” “Understood, then.” I nodded, making no further attempt to defend myself. I turned, my three-inch heels clicking, walking out of the Sterling family’s gala step by step, proud and resolute. The night wind blew, and my slender silhouette seemed as if it could be swallowed whole by this cold world at any moment.

Amelia’s POV After returning from the Sterling family gala, I fell seriously ill. The high fever plunged me into nightmares night after night, filled with Ethan’s cold, disgusted gaze and my own mother’s sharp, decisive slap. The first thing I did after the fever broke was drive back to the hillside mansion. I had left something there. It was an old wooden box containing a pocket watch my foster mother had left me before she passed away. It was the only keepsake proving my identity, and for over twenty years, it had been my sole source of comfort during countless unbearable nights. Pushing open the mansion door, I saw that the interior furnishings had completely changed. The minimalist, dark-toned furniture I had carefully chosen was all replaced with a pink, French country style. My presence had been completely erased from here. Even the air was filled with an unfamiliar, sweet scent. I walked straight to the master bedroom on the second floor. Pushing open the door, I saw Lily sitting at the dressing table, toying with that very pocket watch. “Who allowed you to touch my things?” I strode over, my eyes as cold and sharp as daggers. Lily jumped in fright. Seeing me, a flicker of panic crossed her eyes, but she quickly composed herself. “Amelia, you’ve already moved out. Naturally, everything here belongs to Ethan. I thought this pocket watch was quite distinctive, so I took it out to look at it.” “Give it back to me!” I reached out, my voice chillingly cold. Just then, steady footsteps echoed from outside the door. Ethan walked in. Seeing me, his brows immediately furrowed, his voice filled with impatience. “What are you doing here? Didn’t you leave the keys?” “I came for my mother’s keepsake.” I pointed at the pocket watch in Lily’s hand, my gaze fixed on it. Ethan glanced at the worn-out watch, irritably pinching the bridge of his nose. “It’s just an old watch. If Lily likes it, let her keep it. Name your price, and I’ll compensate you double.” An old watch? Compensate? My heart felt like it was being fed into a meat grinder, the pain so intense that even my breaths tasted of blood. “Ethan, that’s the only keepsake my foster mother left me! It’s something I’ve worn since childhood!” My voice finally cracked, imbued with an undeniable sorrow and despair. “In your eyes, everything can be measured by money, everything can be given to her, is that right?!” Ethan’s tone softened slightly. “Lily has been frightened recently. She feels the pocket watch brings her peace. You have so many top-tier jewels; why bother fighting her over this?” “Ethan, since Amelia is so reluctant to part with this watch, I’ll just give it back to her.” Lily put on a wronged expression, stood up, and extended the pocket watch towards me. However, just as my fingers were about to touch the watch, Lily’s fingers suddenly loosened. A sharp clink rang out. A crisp shattering sound echoed in the quiet bedroom. The pocket watch, which had been with me for over twenty years, hit the marble floor. Its glass face shattered completely. The atmosphere instantly turned tense. “Oh! I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry! It slipped!” Lily cried out, then turned and hid in Ethan’s arms. I stood frozen, staring down at the watch on the floor. It was my only connection to the past, my only source of solace during those difficult years. Now, the watch was broken… Just like my feelings for Ethan, it was shattered into a million pieces. I slowly knelt, reaching out a trembling hand, picking up the watch fragments one by one. The sharp glass edges cut my fingers, and blood dripped onto the white floor. “Amelia…” Ethan looked at my bleeding hand, trying to reach for me. “Don’t touch me!” I fiercely swatted his hand away. I looked up. My eyes, once full of love, now held nothing but cold emptiness. “Ethan, in seven years, even if I raised a dog, I would have developed feelings for it.” I tightly clutched the blood-stained watch fragments, slowly rising to my feet. “You’re not just blind, you’re heartless. What we had, it ends here.” I didn’t spare him another glance, walking past him and out of this mansion that had buried all my youth and love.

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On my 25th birthday, my perfect boyfriend of three years knelt before me, holding up a magnificent diamond ring, a real showstopper. Friends and family cheered, and my parents’ eyes welled up with tears. Just as I was about to nod, tears blurring my vision, a blood-red virtual panel suddenly materialized before my eyes: “Warning! Target subject detected carrying HIV and secondary syphilis!” “Danger! This diamond ring is stolen property! The owner’s armed enforcers will arrive in three minutes!” I looked at my deeply affectionate boyfriend, then at his shirt cuffs, always tightly buttoned to hide rashes. My outstretched hand froze in mid-air. No wonder he’d never initiated any real intimacy with me these past three years, always giving some romantic excuse about wanting to wait until our wedding night, wanting it to be truly special. At the same time, a countdown blared in my mind: “High alert! Enforcers’ arrival countdown: three minutes.” I smiled, took the ring, and slipped it onto my finger. Then, I turned and double-locked the front door, engaging three additional deadbolts. “Sorry, but this game of trapping the rat? It’s just getting started.”

“Summer, marry me. I’ll dedicate my life to protecting you, to making you the happiest woman in the world.” My boyfriend, Brandon Reed, knelt on the rose-petal-strewn floor, pulling a delicate velvet box from his custom-made suit pocket. The box slowly opened, revealing a magnificent diamond ring that sparkled dazzlingly under the living room’s crystal chandelier. Today was my twenty-fifth birthday. It was supposed to be just a casual family dinner. My mom had cooked a huge spread of all my favorite dishes, and my dad had opened a bottle of wine he’d been saving for years. Who would have thought that Brandon had secretly planned such a romantic proposal? My mom gasped, covering her mouth, tears welling in her eyes, constantly nudging my dad with her elbow. My dad put down his wine glass; though he tried to hide it, his slightly trembling hands betrayed his excitement. I felt a little dazed, as if I were dreaming. Brandon and I had met at a friend’s party. We’d been together for three whole years, and he’d been incredibly attentive. His never-missed, homemade breakfasts every morning, the umbrella always appearing promptly at my office building on rainy days, the warming ginger tea he’d brew for me during my period… Aside from his ordinary background and frequent business trips, he was an absolutely flawless, perfect partner. My parents, though they cared deeply for me, weren’t materialistic people. They often said that as long as a guy was a good person, hardworking, and treated me well, it didn’t matter if he was a bit poor; we could build a life together. I had always believed I’d found my destined happiness. A wave of emotion washed over me, blurring my vision with tears. I took a deep breath, ready to reach out and accept the ring, a symbol of a lifelong commitment. Just then, something unexpected happened. A blinding red light flashed across my retina, followed by a translucent, blood-red virtual panel that floated in the air above Brandon’s head. “Don’t touch it, you fool! That ring? He stole it from a wealthy woman! And her enforcers are on their way, knives out!” “This lowlife has secondary syphilis and a preliminary HIV positive! And he’s still trying to trick you into marriage, planning to turn an honest person into his free nurse and a cleanup crew for his mess!” “Look at his right cuff! Always buttoned tight, just to hide his syphilis rashes!” “Summer Hayes, run! You have three minutes until the rich woman’s enforcers break down your door!” “This guy’s just a high-class kept man, a male escort who preys on wealthy women. Now that he’s been caught red-handed, he’s trying to leave the stolen goods at your house to frame your family!” My outstretched hand froze in mid-air, my fingertips barely an inch from that diamond. I blinked hard, even secretly pinching my thigh, wondering if I was hallucinating from too much overtime work recently. But the blood-red panel didn’t vanish. Instead, it went wild, frantically scrolling with a dense stream of pop-up messages, each word like a sharp knife, plunging into my eyes. How could this be? Brandon was still looking at me with deep affection, his captivating eyes, usually filled with a gentle smile, now alight with expectation. His hand, holding the ring, trembled slightly, as if nervous about my hesitation. “Summer? What’s wrong? Are you just too excited to react?” he murmured my name, his voice like velvet. I didn’t speak. After a momentary mental freeze, my brain started working furiously. My gaze instinctively dropped to his wrist. In the three years I’d known him, whether it was summer or winter, Brandon always wore long-sleeved shirts, and his cuff buttons were always fastened tightly. I’d once asked him why he never wore short sleeves, and he’d laughed, saying he had childhood burn scars on his arm that he found ugly and didn’t want to scare me. I’d even felt pity for his sensitivity and insecurity. Now, thinking back, for all his kindness and thoughtfulness, our most intimate gestures had only ever gone as far as holding hands and hugging. Every time I tried to take things further, he would always put me off with various grand excuses, saying he wanted “to save the best for our wedding night,” or “I cherish you too much to be hasty.” I’d thought it was his respect and care for me, a rare purity in this superficial world. But if what the pop-up messages said was true… “Summer, hurry up and say yes! Don’t let Brandon kneel too long, the floor’s cold,” my mom urged from the side, breaking the silence in the living room. I ignored my mom’s urging and didn’t reach for the ring. Driven by an inexplicable impulse, I reached out and grabbed Brandon’s right wrist. With all my strength, I yanked his sleeve upwards. “Rip!” The cuff button burst open from the force, clattering softly on the wooden floor. Brandon’s face contorted, a flicker of panic in his eyes. He instinctively tried to pull his hand back. But I, with a strength I didn’t know I possessed, clamped onto his wrist, refusing to let him go even an inch. His sleeve was completely pulled up, revealing his arm, which should have been clean. However, on the inner skin of his wrist, there were several coppery-red, scaly rashes! In that instant, my blood ran cold, and a high-pitched ringing filled my ears. The pop-up messages were true! He really had syphilis! He really was a liar! Three years of tenderness, thoughtfulness, and heartfelt vows, all a meticulously planned deception!

Brandon’s affectionate expression instantly froze when I forcibly pulled up his sleeve and saw the rashes on his wrist. It was replaced by unconcealed horror. He violently yanked his hand away from mine, frantically pulling his sleeve back down to cover the disgusting spots, and then stood up from the floor. Just at this suffocatingly awkward moment, the cell phone on the coffee table vibrated like a death knell. Brandon’s eyes flickered to the caller ID on the screen. His face, which had been flushed from the proposal, instantly drained of all color, turning ashen white. He didn’t even bother to put the priceless diamond ring on my finger. He fumbled, stuffing the velvet box into his coat pocket, grabbing his phone, and heading for the door. “I’m so sorry, something urgent just came up at the company. A multi-million dollar project has a major glitch, and my boss needs me back right away!” His words came out in a rapid, trembling rush. He didn’t even dare to look at me as he turned and charged towards the front door. Meanwhile, the virtual panel before my eyes flashed again, displaying a glaring red countdown: “Alert! Victoria Sterling’s gang enforcers are 2 minutes and 50 seconds from arrival!” “Don’t let him leave! If he runs, your whole family will be in danger!” “He plans to leave the stolen goods at your house and make your family of three the scapegoats!” Shock, anger, and fear intertwined, making my whole body tremble uncontrollably. But my remaining sanity screamed a warning: I absolutely could not let him just walk away! If the pop-up warning was true, the impending danger was something my family of three could never handle. Just as Brandon’s hand was about to touch the doorknob, I lunged forward like a frantic lioness, grabbing hold of the back of his coat. “You’re not leaving!” I shrieked, my voice shrill and piercing with extreme fear and fury. Brandon stumbled, thrown off balance by my grip. He turned back, forcing a smile that looked worse than a grimace. “Summer, don’t mess around. This is a truly urgent work matter, a multi-million dollar project. If I mess it up, I’ll be fired. Be good, I’ll come right back to celebrate your birthday after I handle it.” “What project? Where are you going? Where did that diamond ring really come from? What are those red rashes on your wrist?!” I rattled off a string of questions, each hitting a vital point. My parents were utterly stunned by the sudden turn of events. They didn’t understand how a romantic proposal could, in the next second, turn into a tense standoff. “Summer, what are you doing? How can you talk to Brandon like that? A man’s career is important, work comes first, let him go,” my dad said, frowning, as he came over to try and pull me away. Seeing that my parents were still in the dark and on his side, Brandon immediately put on a wronged, helpless expression: “Mr. Hayes, this is truly a matter of life and death, I really have to go…” As he spoke, he secretly gritted his teeth, reaching out his left hand to try and pry my fingers, one by one, from his coat. He was strong, and my finger bones ached. “You’re not leaving! You have to explain yourself today!” I bit down hard, my fingernails digging into the back of his hand. No matter how hard he pulled, I wouldn’t let go. The pop-up messages on the screen were still furiously refreshing, the countdown like the Grim Reaper’s footsteps, drawing closer with every beat: “Two minutes left!” “Watch out! He’s trying to stuff the ring box into the gap in your shoe rack by the front door!” “Summer Hayes, hold onto him! Don’t let him run!” Following the pop-up’s warning, I saw Brandon’s right hand furtively reaching towards the shoe rack, seemingly trying to drop something unnoticed. I immediately blocked the shoe rack with my body, completely thwarting his plan. Brandon looked at the tightly locked front door, then at the wall clock. Cold sweat poured down his forehead like disconnected beads. The layers of tenderness and pretense in his eyes completely tore away, revealing his vicious, agitated true face underneath. “Summer Hayes, I’m warning you, let go of me right now!” He hissed, lowering his voice, like a poisonous snake cornered, grinding the words out in my ear. “I won’t! Unless you call the police right now and let them handle your ’emergency’!” I glared back at him, refusing to back down.

“Call the police? Are you insane?!” Hearing the words “call the police,” Brandon reacted like a cat whose tail had been stepped on, instantly exploding. But his eyes darted around, and he immediately changed tactics. His legs went weak, and he actually dropped to his knees in front of my parents, switching to a heart-wrenching sob: “I’m so sorry! It’s not about work at all… it’s my dad!” Crying, he pounded his chest: “My dad just had a sudden heart attack and was rushed to the hospital! The hospital has issued a critical condition notice; the doctors say he might not make it through the night!” “I was afraid Summer would worry, afraid of ruining her birthday, so I didn’t dare to tell the truth earlier. Please, let me go! If I’m a minute late, I might not see my dad one last time!” As he spoke, he crumpled to the floor. I watched his Oscar-worthy performance coldly, feeling nothing but a wave of nausea. But for my kind, honest parents, a dying parent at a birthday dinner was an absolute catastrophe. Sure enough, my mom burst into tears, her heart aching, and quickly tried to help him up: “Oh, you silly boy, why didn’t you say something sooner about such a big matter! Who cares about a birthday now!” My dad also panicked, rushing over to forcefully pry my hands away: “Summer! Let go! How can you be so insensitive! This is a matter of filial duty, a life-and-death situation, not a second can be wasted!” “Brandon, hurry! Do you have enough money? The hospital needs a deposit for emergency treatment, I’ll get you some!” My dad even fumbled for his phone in a rush. At that moment, in the entire living room, I felt like the only one who was clear-headed. Because before my eyes, on that blood-red panel, the pop-up messages were scrolling at an even more frantic pace: “He’s lying! His dad died ages ago, his ashes were scattered!” “He’s just trying to use your sympathy, use your family as a shield, so he can sneak away!” “The enforcers are upstairs! One minute left!” “Summer Hayes, don’t believe him! The moment he steps out that door, your whole family will be scapegoats, and those gangsters will beat you all to death!” If those enforcers were as vicious and cold-blooded as the pop-up messages said, and Brandon ran, my parents and I, old, weak, and injured, would be like fish on a cutting board, to be slaughtered at will. “He’s lying! Dad! Mom! Don’t believe him!” I shrieked, clinging to Brandon’s waist like a limpet, using my full weight to pull him down. “Get out your phone! Call your relatives! Or call the hospital’s nursing station directly! I want to hear!” “Call now! Put it on speaker! As soon as the call connects and proves your dad is really in critical condition, I’ll let you go immediately!” I cried, tears and snot streaming down my face, completely losing all composure, but I didn’t care anymore. Brandon, entangled by my desperate struggle, couldn’t move an inch. He glanced at the wall clock; with every tick of the second hand, his face grew paler, and his eyes became more frantic. “Get lost! You crazy woman!” He finally completely dropped his pretense, suddenly spun around, grabbed my hair, and with his other hand, seized my left index finger, bending it sharply backward. A chilling crack echoed. Excruciating pain, like an electric current, instantly shot through my entire body, piercing to my very core. My index finger was brutally broken! “Ah!” I screamed. The pain, ten times worse than any other, instantly sapped all my strength, and my hands involuntarily let go of his clothes. Brandon seized the chance, shoving me hard in the chest. “If you want to die, die alone! Don’t drag me down with you!” He pushed with all his might. I lost my balance, stumbling backward like a kite with a snapped string, my back slamming heavily against the front door. But instinctively, I grabbed the doorknob with my hand, enduring the searing pain, and fiercely engaged the last deadbolt. “Summer!” My mom shrieked in horror, rushing over to help me. My dad was also utterly stunned by Brandon’s sudden violence. The phone he was holding clattered to the floor. “Brandon! You animal! What are you doing! How dare you hit my daughter!” My dad’s eyes widened, and he roared, trying to rush forward and fight him. But Brandon completely ignored my dad. He frantically tried to twist the doorknob, only to find the door was locked tight. Just then, a dull thud came from outside the door, followed by the grating scrape of a metal baseball bat dragging against the wall. The sound echoed in the silent hallway, like a death knell. Then, a rough, menacing voice with a heavy accent sounded from outside the door, seeping through the thin metal: “Brandon, open the door. I know you’re in there.” “Hiding behind a woman’s skirt? What kind of man are you? Weren’t you running pretty fast a minute ago? Why stop now?” The moment Brandon heard that voice, he looked like his spine had been removed, his legs instantly going weak with terror. His earlier arrogance, the one that had just hit me and broken my finger, vanished completely. He slumped to the floor like a rag doll, his face ashen white, trembling like a leaf. “You… you bitch…” He stammered, his ashen lips cursing me in a low voice. “It’s all your fault… if it weren’t for you, you crazy woman, stopping me, I would’ve gotten away…” “You ruined everything for me… if I get caught, I’ll haunt you even in death…” I leaned against the cold front door, cradling my index finger, which was already completely deformed and swollen like a carrot. I sucked in ragged breaths, enduring the agonizing pain. Looking at this man, who just half an hour ago was in a suit and tie, kneeling and proposing to me, spouting sweet nothings, now collapsed on the floor like a stray dog, cursing me. My stomach churned with revulsion. Soon, the sound of the baseball bat hitting the wall outside stopped. On the virtual panel before my eyes, the frantically scrolling pop-up messages suddenly all disappeared, replaced by a deadly silence of stark white: “They’re here.” “Summer Hayes, cover your head, protect your parents.” The next second. Boom! A deafening crash. The front door was brutally kicked from the outside with terrifying force. The entire wall vibrated violently, and dust sifted down from the ceiling. I was thrown back from the door by the immense impact, slamming heavily onto the living room floor.

Boom! Another earth-shattering crash. The old apartment building’s front door, under the violent assault of these professional enforcers, proved incredibly fragile. With a grating sound of tearing metal, the lock mechanism completely gave way. The heavy iron door burst open, slamming violently into the entrance wall, even creating a deep dent. In a cloud of dust, several men, clad in black leather jackets and wielding steel baseball bats, stormed in menacingly. Each was burly, with scarred faces, hideous tattoos on their necks and arms, and eyes that held unconcealed brutality and savagery. “Ah!” My mom shrieked in terror, utterly terrified, instinctively shrinking into the furthest corner of the sofa, trembling uncontrollably. My dad, though his face was pale and his legs shook, gritted his teeth, spread his arms, and fiercely shielded my mom and me. He stood like a fragile yet unyielding mountain. “Who are you?! This is trespassing! If you don’t leave now, I… I’ll call the police!” My dad’s voice, though trembling, still held a stubborn edge. “Call the police?” A lazy, contemptuous, slightly hoarse female voice drifted from outside the door. Then, a woman in an expensive mink coat, click-clacking in high heels, leisurely walked in. She looked to be in her late forties, well-preserved, with exquisite heavy makeup, and a slender cigarette held between her fingers. Her gaze, directed at our family, was like looking at insignificant ants. This was the wealthy woman mentioned in the pop-up messages: Victoria. She didn’t even glance at my dad, her eyes locking directly onto Brandon, who was sprawled on the floor. “Well, Brandon, running, are we? Why aren’t you still running?” Victoria exhaled a puff of smoke, her tone chillingly calm. “Secretly embezzling funds from my company to gamble in Macau, using my black card to buy diamond rings, and even daring to infect me with that filthy disease…” “Your guts are really getting bigger and bigger, aren’t they?” Hearing Victoria’s words, Brandon trembled violently, as if he’d been electrocuted. He scrambled, trying to cling to Victoria’s leg, but was brutally kicked in the chest by one of the black-clad enforcers nearby, sending him tumbling several feet. “Ms. Sterling! Boss Victoria! I was wrong! I truly know I was wrong!” Ignoring the pain in his chest, Brandon scrambled up again, kneeling on the floor, frantically kowtowing like a pestle. His forehead quickly broke open, blood streaming down. “The ring… yes! The ring is here! I didn’t touch it! I’ll give it all back to you! Undamaged, just as you gave it to me!” He frantically pulled the velvet box, which he’d planned to propose with, from his coat pocket, holding it up high as if making an offering. A bodyguard behind Victoria stepped forward, took the box, glanced inside, and nodded at her. Victoria scoffed, not even glancing at the priceless diamond ring. “The ring is a small matter. What about the money? The five million dollars in company funds?” “The money… the money…” Brandon’s eyes darted wildly, cold sweat dripping onto the floor. Suddenly, as if grasping at a last straw, he spun around, his finger pointing accusingly at me. “The money’s all with her! It was her! This dirty woman seduced me!” Brandon shrieked hysterically, his face distorted, as if I were his sworn enemy. “Ms. Sterling, please believe me! I was tricked by her! This woman pretends to be an ordinary office worker, but she’s actually a madam, setting up schemes!” “She forced me to steal your money! She said if I didn’t get money for her, she’d find someone to expose my relationship with you, post your photos online, and ruin your reputation!” “I was only trying to protect your reputation, I was confused for a moment, and she got a hold of me!” I stared, wide-eyed in disbelief, at this man spewing such vile lies. The ugliness of human nature was on full display in that moment. To save his own skin, he could, without hesitation, pour all the blame onto a woman he had just been proposing to. “You’re talking nonsense! You’re full of it!” My dad trembled with rage, his eyes red, pointing at Brandon and cursing him: “Brandon! You utterly disgusting animal! When did our family ever ask you for a single penny?! Do you dare swear to God?!” “Old man, do you have any right to speak here?” The closest enforcer sneered, delivering a powerful backhand slap squarely across my dad’s face. Smack! With a sharp crack, my dad was sent flying sideways, crashing heavily into the coffee table. Blood immediately welled from the corner of his mouth, and one side of his face visibly swelled. “John!” My mom shrieked, rushing to him. “Dad!” My eyes burned with fury, and I shrieked, trying to rush at the enforcer to fight him, but another enforcer lifted his foot and brutally kicked me in the stomach. The immense force instantly knocked the breath out of me. I curled up on the floor in agony, like a cooked shrimp, stomach acid churning. Victoria watched all of this unfold with a cold indifference, not even a flicker of emotion in her eyes. “I don’t care who tricked who, or who seduced who. All I know is my money is gone, and today, I want blood.” She flicked ash from her cigarette, her tone as casual as discussing what to have for dinner. “Break one of his hands first. Let him learn his lesson.” Two fierce enforcers immediately stepped forward, one on each side, seizing Brandon and forcibly straightening his right arm, laying it flat on the floor. Another raised his steel baseball bat. “No! No, please! Ms. Sterling, have mercy!” Brandon let out a pig-like shriek, struggling desperately. The strength humans can summon in extreme terror is astonishing. Suddenly, with newfound force, he broke free from one of the enforcers. But he didn’t run for the door, because there were even more enforcers outside. He spun around, like a wild beast, charging directly at me, still recovering on the floor. Before I could react, a thick arm clamped around my neck, pulling me up from the floor. Then, a cold, metallic sensation pressed against my carotid artery. It was a sharp fruit knife, one my mom had used to cut fruit and left on the coffee table. “Don’t come any closer! Nobody move!” Brandon, hiding behind me, trembled violently, but the blade pressed relentlessly into the soft flesh of my neck. “If anyone comes closer, I’ll kill her!” “Ms. Sterling! Let me go! Or I’ll kill her! This is a life! There will be consequences for murder!” “If someone dies, none of you will get away with it today!” The sharp blade sliced through the delicate skin of my neck. Warm, metallic-smelling liquid instantly welled up, flowing down my neck and soaking into my white sweater, staining a large patch red. Looking at the room full of thugs, feeling the madness and malice of the man behind me, I even forgot to blink, my mind a blank. The pop-up messages on the virtual panel reappeared, filled with infinite sorrow: “This is human nature. Faced with death, he’s worse than an animal.” “Summer Hayes, don’t be afraid, don’t move. Stay alive, and you can slowly make him pay later.” “This man truly deserves a thousand cuts! To hell with him!” I took a deep breath, forcing myself to calm down. “Brandon, even if you kill me today, you won’t escape. You’ll get what’s coming to you,” I said, gritting my teeth, each word distinct. “Shut up! Just shut up!” Brandon shrieked hysterically in my ear, spit spraying onto my face. “If anyone’s dying, it’s you first! We’ll go to hell together!”

“A life?” Hearing Brandon’s threat, Victoria didn’t show fear. Instead, she let out a light laugh, as if she’d heard the funniest joke. She took a step forward in her high heels, her eyes filled with amusement and mockery. “Oh, Brandon, have you misunderstood something? What does this woman’s life have to do with me, Victoria?” “If you want to kill her, go ahead. Do it quickly. Once you’re done, I’ll save the police the trouble of catching a murderer and perhaps even get a commendation for civic bravery.” With that, she casually waved her hand. The surrounding enforcers immediately understood. Instead of backing away, they raised their baseball bats, grinning menacingly, and slowly advanced towards us. At this point, Brandon was completely flustered. He had thought he could use my life to threaten Victoria, but he hadn’t expected this woman to be even more cold-blooded than he imagined. “Don’t come any closer! Don’t force me! I really will do it!” Brandon’s hand trembled even more violently, the sharp blade uncontrollably scraping back and forth on my neck, opening a deeper wound. More blood flowed, dripping onto the floor, a horrifying sight. Seeing the enforcers closing in to within two meters, Brandon let out a desperate, frantic howl. He suddenly released his left hand from my neck, then with all his might, shoved me hard in the back with both hands. “Die! Block them for me!” The immense push sent me flying like a cannonball. What awaited me was not the enforcers catching me in their arms. It was the heavy marble coffee table in the center of the living room. In mid-air, time seemed to stretch endlessly. I saw my parents’ mouths agape in extreme terror, yet heard no sound from them; I saw the cold, evasive eyes of the enforcers; and I saw Brandon’s back as he scurried towards the door like a rat. Thump! A dull thud. My forehead struck the sharpest edge of the marble coffee table with precise, heavy impact. Excruciating pain instantly swallowed my consciousness. I collapsed heavily into a pool of blood, my body convulsing uncontrollably from nerve spasms. Warm blood gushed from my forehead, covering my eyes, turning my vision blood-red. Before consciousness completely plunged into darkness, I heard the sound of enforcers swarming. Brandon didn’t even get a few steps before several baseball bats slammed into his hamstrings. He shrieked and fell to the ground. Then came the chilling sounds of beating: the dull thuds of fists on flesh, the crisp snap of bones, and Brandon’s heart-wrenching, inhuman screams. “Ms. Sterling! Have mercy! Ms. Sterling! I was wrong!” “I’m a dog! I’m just a dog you raised! Stop hitting me! Please, stop hitting me! You’ll kill me!” The one-sided beating continued for several minutes. Brandon was beaten bloody and bruised, his face swollen, his ribs God knows how many broken. He lay on the floor like a rag doll. Then, a disgusting scene unfolded. To save his life, Brandon actually crawled on the floor like a real dog, dragging his broken legs. He left a long trail of blood across the floor, finally reaching Victoria’s feet, desperately clinging to her black-stockinged calf. “Ms. Sterling, I was wrong, I truly know I was wrong… Please give me another chance. I’ll do anything for you.” “I’m good at serving people, I have good technique, you used to love it when I served you… Please, don’t kill me. Victoria looked down at him, a disgusted frown on her face. She raised her foot, clad in a pointed high-heel. “You were pretty tough, pretty gutsy, holding a knife to that woman’s throat earlier, weren’t you?” Victoria said coldly: “Lick it clean.” Brandon froze for a second, looking at the dust and blood splattered on her shoe tip. But after only a second’s hesitation, he stuck out his tongue like a real dog. Fawningly, meticulously, and utterly without dignity, he kissed Victoria’s dust-covered shoe tip and ankle. As he licked, he slurred out disgusting, cheesy words: “Ms. Sterling is my queen… I am my queen’s most loyal dog… My queen, have mercy…” I lay on the chillingly cold floor, blood still gushing, taking away my body’s warmth. But I still pushed with all my might, struggling to keep my eyes open, staring fixedly at this scene. I wanted to engrave that ugly, repulsive face deep into my memory. The virtual panel paused for a few seconds. Then, pop-up messages scrolled at an unprecedented, frantic speed, almost covering my entire vision: “I’m going to throw up… This man, for money, for his life, truly has no bottom line, worse than an animal!” “Summer Hayes is still bleeding! She’s dying! He won’t even look at her?!” “Just moments ago, he was proposing with deep affection, and now he’s licking another woman’s shoe in front of his fiancée and future in-laws?! My worldview is shattered!” “This scumbag deserves to die! What did Summer Hayes’s family do to deserve all this?!” “Can someone save the female lead? I can’t bear to watch, it’s too tragic!” “The countdown is still flashing, too much blood loss, will Summer Hayes die?” “System alert: Vital signs rapidly declining…” Accompanied by the system’s warning, my world faded into darkness.

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Growing up, the game I hated playing most with my older sister, Chloe, was hide-and-seek. Chloe was absolutely terrible at hiding. I found it incredibly boring, no challenge at all. But one day, Chloe disappeared, and no matter how hard I looked, I couldn’t find her. My brother-in-law, David Miller, cried his heart out in court. “My wife and I were married for seven years, and we loved each other very much.” “She was seven months pregnant. That night, she said she was going for a walk. I never imagined she would commit suicide.” “I loved her so much, how could I kill her?” He wept so genuinely, so utterly devastated. The jury sighed with sympathy. Even my mom hugged him, crying, “David, I’m so sorry. It was my fault, I misjudged you.” Everyone in the courtroom was moved, and even the judge offered words of comfort. But in my mind, a pop-up text from our hide-and-seek games appeared: “She’s in the suitcase.” 1 “Given insufficient evidence, the declaration of death is not established. Court adjourned. Re-trial to be scheduled.” The gavel fell. David Miller stood in the defendant’s box, his shoulders still trembling. Tears clung to his chin, dropping one by one. He was an incredible actor. So good that even the judge told him, “Mr. Miller, please accept my condolences,” and the gallery was filled with soft sobs. I stood up. “Your Honor, Chloe didn’t commit suicide. I have proof.” I pulled a notebook from my bag and held it high. The cover was a soft apricot shade, Chloe’s favorite. The last sentence she wrote before she disappeared, I knew by heart. “He knows I found out. He’s going to kill me.” David Miller’s lawyer sprang to his feet to object. The judge raised a hand to stop him, instructing me to present the diary. David didn’t panic. He didn’t even glance at the diary. He just slowly pulled a document from the inside pocket of his suit jacket and handed it to the judge with both hands. “Your Honor, this is my wife Chloe’s psychiatric evaluation report from her pregnancy, indicating severe prenatal anxiety with paranoid delusions. Every word she wrote in her diary was a hallucination from her illness.” The judge took the document. He flipped through a couple of pages, then looked up at me. “Maya, this report is legitimate. Chloe’s attending physician has already signed off on it.” My hand hung in mid-air. The diary was still clutched in my grasp, but it had instantly turned into a stack of worthless papers. David gently sighed. He turned to me, his eyes still red, his voice raspy, like sandpaper: “Maya, I know this is hard for you to accept, and it’s hard for me too, but Chloe was ill. She needed help, not accusations.” Someone in the gallery whispered: “He’s such a good man.” “Is this woman crazy?” “Her own husband said that, and she’s still causing a scene.” My mom rushed from the back row. Her hand landed squarely on my face with a sharp smack that silenced the entire courtroom. “Maya! You’re coming home with me!” My face burned. I didn’t move. My mom then grabbed David’s hand: “David, our family owes you an apology. Maya’s just being difficult, don’t blame her.” My dad sat in his wheelchair, turning his face away. David shook his head, his voice as gentle as if he were soothing a child: “Don’t blame Maya. She’s still young, it’s hard for her to process.” His lawyer packed up his papers nearby, not even looking up. The bailiffs began clearing the courtroom. People in the gallery stood up and started to leave. As they passed me, some glanced my way. Their eyes held sympathy, and disgust. David was helped by his lawyer out of the defendant’s box. He paused as he passed me. He didn’t look at me, didn’t speak. But I saw it. A fleeting upward curve of his lips. The expression lasted less than a second, gone as quickly as it appeared. But I saw it. He was smiling. No one else noticed. I clutched Chloe’s diary, standing rooted to the spot. That line of text was still flashing in front of my eyes, it hadn’t disappeared since it first appeared. “Suitcase.” 2 I had to find the suitcase. The sunlight outside the courthouse stung my eyes. My mom was the first to rush out, grabbing my arm, her nails digging into my flesh. “What were you doing in court just now? Are you happy only when you’ve driven David to his grave?” My dad was pushed out in his wheelchair, turning his head away, not looking at me. Sophie stood on the steps, hesitant, her lips parted as if to speak. In the end, she only said, “Maya, David has been through enough.” “He killed Chloe.” My mom’s hand went up again. This time it didn’t land on my face; she grabbed my collar and dragged me to the corner. “I’ll say it again: Chloe left on her own! The doctor even said she had a mental illness! What has David ever done to you? He’s trying to find you a rehabilitation center, he said he doesn’t blame you, what more do you want?” The buzzing of microphones reached me from a distance. David stood on the courthouse steps, surrounded by reporters. He wore his dark suit, his hair meticulously combed, his face still streaked with tears. His voice was hoarse and low, every word trembling. “I don’t blame Maya. She’s in too much pain from losing Chloe. I’ll help her find the best therapist. Please don’t blame her.” A reporter pressed, “Mr. Miller, are you satisfied with today’s outcome?” He lowered his head, silent for three seconds. “I just want Chloe alive and back. The declaration of death was not established, so at least I still have hope.” Flashbulbs erupted in a continuous blaze. Someone applauded. His gaze swept over the crowd, landing precisely on me. Then he lowered his head again, wiping away a tear. Sophie sighed beside me: “Maya, just look at him.” I looked at the pop-up text. It was still there. “Suitcase.” I turned and walked away. Back home, I searched through every single one of Chloe’s belongings. Closet, nothing. Storage room, nothing. Under the bed, nothing. The old suitcase she used before she got married was still there, but it was empty. I squatted in Chloe’s room, staring at the pop-up text. “Suitcase.” It wouldn’t tell me more. Since childhood, it only told me where something was hidden, never how to find it. The doorbell rang. My mom stood at the door, with Sophie behind her. “Maya, David just called. The rehabilitation center is all set. Pack your bags, he’ll pick you up tomorrow.” “I’m not going.” “You have to go.” My mom walked in, saw the mess in my room, and her face darkened even more. “Look at the state you’re in! If Chloe saw you like this, would she rest in peace?” “She’s not resting in peace. She’s in the suitcase.” My mom burst into tears. Sophie hugged her, patting her back. The next day, David came. He stood downstairs from my apartment, holding a bag of fruit, with two reporters trailing him. “Maya, I brought you some strawberries. Chloe used to love them.” He handed me the fruit in front of the reporters. I didn’t take it. He didn’t get angry. He placed the fruit on the doorstep and told the reporters, “Maya is still grieving. I don’t blame her.” The reporters took their photos and left. My mom rushed out, holding David’s hand and thanking him. Passing neighbors stopped, some giving him a thumbs-up. “What a stand-up guy.” “He’s so patient, even with her acting out like this.” I stood at my second-story window, watching everything unfold below. David looked up, right at me. That night, I lay on Chloe’s bed, staring at the ceiling. The pop-up text was still there. It was like a curse nailed to my eyes. I rolled over, facing the wall. A photo of Chloe was taped to the wall, taken outside our old house. She was smiling so wide her eyes disappeared. Our old house. 3 I sat up abruptly. That was Chloe’s house before she got married. It had been empty ever since she moved out. All of Chloe’s belongings when she moved out came from there. The suitcase? Could that suitcase be in the old house? I threw on a jacket and ran out. The streets were empty at four in the morning. I hailed a cab. The driver kept glancing at me in the rearview mirror, probably thinking I was crazy. The lock on the old house hadn’t been changed. I used Chloe’s key to open it. The house was full of dust, and the air smelled damp and moldy. I stood in the living room, my heart pounding. The pop-up text disappeared. Since childhood, every time I found something hidden, the pop-up text would vanish. It only disappeared at the exact moment I found it. Chloe was here. I pulled out my phone and dialed 91

“Officer, I need to report something. I found Chloe’s body.” Detective Sergeant Evans arrived. He gave me a look I knew too well: sympathy mixed with impatience, like he was dealing with a disruptive child. “Maya, it’s you again.” “Detective Sergeant Evans, Chloe is right here.” He didn’t speak, just led his team inside. The old house wasn’t big – a small three-bedroom place. They searched room by room. Nothing. Detective Sergeant Evans came out, taking off his cap. “Maya, Chloe isn’t here.” “She is.” “We’ve searched.” “Search again.” Detective Sergeant Evans sighed. Just then, a black sedan pulled up outside. David stepped out of the car, wearing pajamas underneath a jacket. “Maya! What are you doing here again?” He walked over, his tone still that soothing, child-like cadence, “I got a call from the property manager saying someone broke in. I didn’t expect it to be you. This place is empty, it’s not safe.” He turned to Detective Sergeant Evans, sighing, “Officer, I apologize. I haven’t been able to look after her properly. Her mental state has been unstable since Chloe disappeared. I’ve already arranged for a rehabilitation center.” A cab screeched to a halt at the door. My mom got out, her face deathly pale. “Maya! Are you calling the police with false alarms again?” “Mom, Chloe is right he—” “Shut up!” My mom rushed over and slapped my shoulder. It stung. “David wants to send you to the rehabilitation center, and I’ve agreed. You can’t keep doing this.” “Look at you, running out at four in the morning! Are you trying to kill me with worry?” Detective Sergeant Evans looked at my mom, then at David. “Maya, filing a false report can lead to arrest.” David quickly waved his hands, apologizing. “Officer, please don’t pursue this. Maya didn’t mean it. She just misses Chloe too much. I’ll take her home, we won’t cause any more trouble.” He walked over and reached for my arm. My mom also walked over, gripping my other hand. Detective Sergeant Evans told his officers, “Pack it up. Take Maya back to the station for a statement. False reports need to be handled.” An officer walked over, taking out handcuffs. I struggled free. “Detective Sergeant Evans, please, just one more search. Just one.” Detective Sergeant Evans looked at me. For a long time. “Maya, I’ve already searched twice.” “We’ve taken every possible measure. There’s no sign of murder or bloodstains on the premises.” “A third time.” “There’s nothing here.” “One last time, I’m begging you.” 4 I gripped Detective Sergeant Evans’ hand, pleading desperately. Detective Sergeant Evans paused, probably thinking I’d truly gone mad. David sighed, walked over, his voice soft as if soothing an infant: “Maya, come home with me. The doctors from the rehabilitation center will be here soon to pick you up. Someone will take care of you there. Please, no more scenes, okay?” The officer approached again, this time directly reaching for my wrists with the handcuffs. Gritting my teeth, I struggled, shaking off his grip. “Please, search again. I’m begging you.” Detective Sergeant Evans’ brows furrowed. He looked at me for three seconds, then raised a hand to stop the officer. “Search one more time,” he said. The officers went back inside. Behind cabinets, under the floorboards, they even checked the walls for false compartments. More meticulously, more carefully than the previous two times. The entire house was subjected to bloodstain detection. Still nothing. When Detective Sergeant Evans came out, he took his cap off, then put it back on. He didn’t look at me, but I knew what he was thinking. He was thinking this girl was truly being unreasonable. David gently patted my shoulder: “Maya, that’s enough. You’ve put the police through enough.” He walked over to take my arm. My mom also came over, and both of them held me tight. Detective Sergeant Evans told his officers: “Pack it up. Take her in.” The officer walked over, this time without hesitation. The cold metal of the handcuffs clicked shut on my left wrist. My tears finally fell. I still hadn’t found Chloe. My mom clutched her chest nearby, scolding me furiously, while David tried to soothe her. “Chloe was such a good person, and you’ve learned nothing from her! Now you’re treating calling the police like a game!” David sighed and bowed to Detective Sergeant Evans. “Again, I apologize, Officer. She just misses Chloe too much. I apologize on her behalf.” Detective Sergeant Evans waved his hand, signaling the officer to take me away. The officer pulled on my handcuffs, dragging me towards the door. I was pulled two steps, my eyes scanning every corner of the room. Suddenly, I noticed something. I lunged fiercely in that direction. The handcuffs clanged against the doorframe, leaving a red mark on my wrist. The officer pushed me, struggling like crazy, onto the floor. “What are you doing?!” My mom shrieked. Detective Sergeant Evans yelled, “Hold it!” He wasn’t talking to me. He was talking to everyone. He stared in the direction I was looking, walked quickly over, and squatted down. A few seconds of silence. David opened his mouth to say something, saw Detective Sergeant Evans’ expression, and closed it again. Then he stood up, his face utterly changed. “Secure the scene. No one leaves. Call in the CID, forensic team, and K9 unit.” I lay on the floor, looking at that corner. Chloe, I found you.

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New Year’s Eve. Scarlett Hayes shivered, freezing in her short skirt while hiking. I casually remarked, “Maybe don’t wear a short skirt for hiking,” and her eyes immediately welled up. My boyfriend, Ethan Blackwood, instantly frowned. “Scarlett, why do you have to be so cruel?” “You’ll stay on the peak alone and reflect. You can come down when you’ve apologized to Chloe Davis.” Our friends were stunned, trying to talk him out of it. He leaned against his car door, looking at me with absolute certainty. “You’re too proud. It’s time you learned a lesson.” I looked at him and asked, “Are you sure?” He nodded, then drove off with Chloe. I stood on the peak for five minutes. Then I called my dad: “Dad, send a helicopter to pick me up.” Then I called my assistant: “Also, close the mountain. Effective immediately, no one goes up or down.” Half an hour later, the helicopter landed. Ethan’s phone calls came flooding in, but I didn’t answer. Finally, he sent a text message: “Chloe collapsed from the cold. Are you happy now?” I told my assistant, “Let them spend the rest of New Year’s Eve up there before they come down.”

New Year’s Eve, 4 AM, Skyridge Peak. The wind was fierce. I stood wrapped in my down jacket at the edge of the observation deck, watching the city lights twinkle in the distance. Chloe Davis stood beside me, shivering uncontrollably. She wore a short skirt with black stockings, topped with a thin-looking white cashmere coat. “Hiking really isn’t suitable for short skirts,” I casually remarked. It really was just a casual comment. The next second, her eyes welled up. “Scarlett, I didn’t mean to dress like this. I thought it wouldn’t be so cold on the mountain…” Her voice trembled, as if I’d been the one to upset her. Before I could even speak, Ethan started blaming me. “Scarlett Hayes, it’s her freedom to wear whatever she wants. Do you have to be so harsh?” “I was just reminding her,” I said, looking at him, my voice calm. “Reminding?” Ethan sneered. “That tone of yours was a ‘reminder’?” Chloe quickly pulled his sleeve. “Ethan, don’t blame Scarlett. I’m sure she was just concerned about me. It’s my fault for not dressing properly.” As she spoke, tears streamed down her face. Ethan’s expression grew even darker. He pulled a tissue from his pocket and handed it to Chloe, then turned to me. “Scarlett Hayes, why can’t you ever be more gentle?” I didn’t say anything. The friends around us exchanged glances. Someone tried to smooth things over. “Alright, alright, let’s not fight. The sunrise is almost here!” “Yeah, Chloe, don’t cry. Here, take my jacket.” Someone took off their waterproof jacket and draped it over Chloe. Chloe wiped her tears and thanked them, looking as sweet and innocent as could be. I just stood there, feeling like the villain. Ethan didn’t look at me again. He walked with Chloe to the other side of the observation deck, murmuring to comfort her, “Don’t take it to heart. She’s just like that, she speaks without thinking.” Twenty-three years I’d known him, and that’s how he described me. The horizon in the distance began to lighten. Someone yelled “Sunrise!” and a group of people gathered to take photos. I didn’t move. I stood still, watching them huddle together. Chloe was protected in front of Ethan. She looked up at him and asked, “Ethan, isn’t it beautiful?” Ethan looked down at her and smiled. “Beautiful.” I couldn’t tell if he meant the sunrise or her. Suddenly, I felt a little tired. The sunrise quickly ended. Everyone took photos on the observation deck, then discussed heading down for breakfast. “Let’s go, let’s go! I’m freezing! There’s a great diner at the bottom of the mountain; let’s grab some brunch!” When we reached the cars, I found Ethan’s car door locked. He leaned against the driver’s side door, looking at me, his expression indifferent. “Scarlett Hayes, you stay here.” I stopped. “What do you mean?” He raised his chin, gesturing toward the peak. “Go up there and be alone. When you’ve figured out what you did wrong, call me, and I’ll come get you.” Everyone around us was stunned. “Ethan, what are you doing?” “Stop messing around, get in the car. Scarlett, you too.” Ethan ignored them, just looking at me. His gaze was absolute, like he was watching a cat that couldn’t escape. He knew I didn’t have a car. He knew we were at the summit, and getting a ride was impossible. He knew I had no other choice but to give in to him. “Are you sure?” I asked him. “Sure,” he said. “You’re too proud; it’s time you learned a lesson.” I nodded. Then I turned and walked toward the peak. “Scarlett!” someone called after me. I didn’t look back. From behind me, I heard Ethan’s voice, “Don’t worry about her. She won’t go far, she’ll be back. She hates the cold.” Then came the sound of car engines starting. The convoy drove off into the distance. I walked back to the observation deck and found a sheltered spot to sit. I called my dad. Half an hour later, a roar came from the sky. A black helicopter slowly descended.

The sky was just beginning to lighten when the helicopter landed at the private helipad on the east side of the city. The car drove out of the helipad and through the still-sleeping city streets. I leaned back in the seat, staring out the window, lost in thought. My phone was still off. Twenty-three years. I knew Ethan too well. He’d get mad, I’d coax him. He’d push me away, I’d wait. He’d come back, I’d accept him. As if I was just supposed to stand there and wait for him. But this time. I didn’t want to wait anymore. “Scarlett, we’re here.” I snapped out of it. The car had already stopped at my house. The house was warm. Maria was bustling in the kitchen and looked surprised to see me back. “Scarlett? I thought you went to the peak to see the sunrise? Why are you back so early?” “It ended early.” I took off my jacket and sat at the dining table. “Maria, I’d love a bowl of soup.” “Coming right up, dear! It’ll be ready in a jiffy.” The steaming hot soup arrived. I took a bite, feeling the warmth spread through my stomach, making me feel a little better. Maria chattered beside me. “Oh, you poor thing, it must have been freezing up on that mountain, weren’t you?” “I’m fine.” “Where’s Ethan? Didn’t he come back with you?” I paused. “He had something to do.” Maria sighed and didn’t press the issue. After eating, I went upstairs and took a shower. The hot water streamed over me, slowly washing away the chill from the mountain. After my shower, I wrapped myself in a robe and sat on the sofa. After some hesitation, I turned on my phone. As soon as it powered on, it started vibrating wildly. 99 missed calls, 99 unread messages. I opened the messages. “Scarlett, where are you?” “The road down is blocked. They say the mountain’s closed. Was this your doing?” “Stop messing around, hurry up and get them to open the road. We’ve been freezing at the base of the mountain for almost an hour.” “Was that you, the helicopter? Did you take a helicopter?” “You’re really going too far.” “Scarlett, please stop playing games, okay? It’s really cold out here, Chloe’s shivering.” “Scarlett Hayes, you’re absolutely out of line!” “Scarlett, I’m sorry, okay?” “Chloe collapsed. We took her to the clinic at the base of the mountain. Are you happy now?” Seeing that, I raised an eyebrow. Collapsed? Such a princess? I didn’t reply, just scrolled down. The last message was: “I’m sorry.” Ethan Blackwood would say sorry? In twenty-three years, he had never once said sorry to me. When he messed up, he’d always buy gifts, take me to dinner, try to cheer me up, but he never actually said sorry. I put my phone down and lay back on the sofa. Outside, fireworks were going off. I suddenly remembered my childhood. Ethan and I were both seven or eight back then, neighbors. Once, he broke my favorite doll. My mom told him to apologize, and he just flushed beet red, then ran home. He emptied all the money from his piggy bank and brought it over to me. “Here, buy a new one,” he said. I asked him, “Aren’t you going to apologize?” He looked down, and after a long moment, mumbled, “I… I paid you back.” Eventually, I forgave him. Not because of the money, but because he’d given me a whole year’s worth of his allowance. Back then, I thought he wouldn’t say sorry, but he’d show he cared in his own way. At 3 PM, my phone rang again. Caller ID: Ethan Blackwood. On the fourth ring, I picked up. “Scarlett!” His voice was urgent. “Where are you?” I didn’t speak. “Scarlett, listen to me, this morning was my fault. I shouldn’t have left you alone on the mountain, I just…” “Ethan,” I cut him off. He paused. “How’s Chloe?” He was startled, then said, “She got some fluids at the clinic, she’s fine now. She’s back home.” “Good.” “Scarlett, you…” “I’m home,” I said. “I’m fine, not cold, nothing happened.” He fell silent. “You told me to reflect, and I have,” I said. “You said I was too proud, that I needed to be taken down a peg. I thought about it all morning, and you’re right, I am pretty proud.” “Scarlett, I didn’t mean it like that…” “Then what did you mean?” He fell silent again. “Ethan, do you know what it feels like to be abandoned on a mountain on New Year’s Eve?” “I…” “Did it ever occur to you, what if I hadn’t had a helicopter to get down? What if I’d fallen on the mountain path? What if I’d gotten hypothermia?” “Scarlett, please stop…” “You didn’t care,” I said. “You only cared if I’d given in.” The phone line was quiet for a long time. Then I heard him say, “I’m sorry.” I said, “I heard you.” “Where are you? I’m coming to find you.” “No need,” I said. “Go back and be with your family.” “Scarlett…” “Ethan,” I paused. “Do you know who owns this mountain?” He was startled. “What?” “Skyridge Peak. Hayes Industries acquired it two years ago. It’s my property. So, I don’t need to beg you.”

After hanging up with Ethan, I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling for a while. My phone vibrated again. Not him. It was Chloe. A SnapChat message. A really long one. “Scarlett, I’m truly sorry about today. It’s all my fault.” “I shouldn’t have worn so little and made Ethan worry, and I shouldn’t have cried and made you misunderstand.” “Ethan was actually really worried, he waited for you at the base of the mountain for so long, his hands were red with cold. You two have so much history, please don’t let a small misunderstanding mess things up, okay?” Every sentence was an apology, but every sentence was also defending Ethan. If she sent that to Ethan, he’d probably think Chloe was so understanding and kind. But to me? I just found it laughable. I replied succinctly, “Ok.” Then I put my phone down and rolled over to sleep. I slept until six in the evening. I got up, changed my clothes, and went downstairs. My mom was drinking tea. “Well, hello sleepyhead, you’re up?” My mom glanced at me. “I heard you came back by helicopter this morning? What, the mountain wasn’t fun?” “It was alright,” I said, sitting on the sofa. “Just a bit cold.” “It’s winter, going to the peak for sunrise, of course it’s cold!” My mom handed me a hot mug of tea. “Where’s Ethan? Didn’t he come back with you?” “He’s busy.” My mom looked at me but didn’t press the issue. At 7 PM, during dinner, my dad asked me: “How’s Skyridge Peak? Is the management still up to par?” “It’s good,” I said. “But I closed the mountain.” My dad paused. “Closed the mountain?” “Yeah.” He looked at me, didn’t ask why, just nodded. “Alright, it’s your property, you call the shots.” My mom chimed in, “Closed the mountain? Why? Aren’t there still people up there?” “A few,” I said. “Let them stay up there for another day or two.” My mom was startled, then chuckled. “You, my dear, are starting to sound more and more like your father.” My dad smiled too, but didn’t reply. Around 10 PM, my phone rang again. This time, it was an unknown number. I hesitated for a moment, then answered. “Hello, Ms. Hayes? This is Chris, the administrator at Skyridge Peak!” His voice was urgent on the other end, mixed with the sound of wind. “Yes, that’s me. What’s wrong?” “Ms. Hayes, there’s a man at the base of the mountain. He’s been waiting there since this afternoon, says he needs to go up and find someone. We stopped him. He’s at the main gate now, and he won’t leave no matter what we say.” “What’s his name?” “He said his name is Ethan Blackwood.” I was silent for two seconds. “Let him wait.” “Huh?” “I said, let him wait. I’ll call you back in a bit.” Later that night, before bed. I picked up my phone, walked out onto the balcony, and called Chris. “Is he still there?” “Yes! He hasn’t moved! We told him to come warm up in the guardhouse, but he won’t. He’s just standing at the main gate, his face is pale from the cold.” “Is he alone?” “Yes, just him.” I looked at the fireworks in the distance, silent for a few seconds. “Put him on the phone.” Footsteps sounded on the other end, then Chris’s voice. “Mr. Blackwood, it’s Scarlett.” Then Ethan’s voice, a little hoarse. “Scarlett?” “Mm.” “Scarlett, I’m at the base of the mountain.” “I know.” “I just want to talk to you face-to-face.” “About what?” He paused. “To say you’re sorry?” I asked. “To say you won’t do this again? To say you actually care about me?” He didn’t speak. “Ethan,” I said softly. “How many times have you said those things before? Which time was real?” “This time it’s real.” His voice was rushed. “Scarlett, this time I truly understand I messed up. This morning, I didn’t mean to leave you on the mountain, I just… I just lost my temper for a moment, I thought you were speaking too harshly, and I wanted you to cool down.” “So you just left me alone on the peak?” He fell silent. “Ethan, when you were twenty-five, you also left me alone in a mall once. Remember?”

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