Author: Momo Chan

For six years, I was Ava Brown’s boyfriend and her assistant. I was with her from the day she had nothing to her name to the moment she became a star. But on the night she won her fifth award, she stood on stage and announced her engagement to another man. “I owe all of my success to Cody’s support,” she declared, a spotlight haloing her. “He is the love of my life.” Her eyes, deliberately or not, flickered to where I stood in the corner of the crowd, a silent warning in their depths. I walked out of the auditorium and dialed my family’s number. “Dad,” I said, my voice steady. “I was wrong. Go ahead and find me a match for an arranged marriage.” My father’s joy was palpable. “Forget the marriage! Your mother and I are just waiting for you to take over! Son, when are you coming home to run Vance Corporation?” A roar erupted from the auditorium behind me, punctuated by ecstatic screams of “They kissed! My ship has sailed!” I smiled faintly. “Soon. I should be home the day after tomorrow.” 1 My father was stunned by my reply. Every time he’d tried to persuade me to come home and inherit the business, I’d shut him down, insisting that Ava was on the verge of greatness and my patience would soon pay off. Well, she’d found her greatness. I, however, hadn’t been paid at all. Just as I hung up, Ava emerged from a side exit, clinging to Cody as they slipped away from the throng of people. She saw me looking at my phone and frowned, walking over. At that moment, a text from my father came through. To celebrate you getting your head on straight, I’m buying you a watch. Pick one. He’d sent photos from several elite brands. Every single one was a seven-figure timepiece. Before I could reply, the phone was snatched from my hand. I looked up. Ava was smiling. “Well, you’re catching on. I was just about to buy Cody a diamond watch.” She pointed to one of the photos. “This one. I’ll take this one for Cody.” Cody leaned down and kissed her cheek. “Thanks, Ava!” Then he turned to me with a saccharine smile. “Thanks for taking care of Ava all these years, Leo. But you don’t have to trouble yourself anymore. You can leave her to me now!” With that, he and Ava walked towards the media scrum that had chased them out. I watched them go, a sharp pain twisting in my chest. As I was leaving, a message from Ava popped up: [Paparazzi at the back entrance. Be careful when you leave. And remember not to say anything you shouldn’t. I don’t want Cody to be harassed.] I texted back: [I don’t have the car keys.] Her reply came half an hour later: [I’m taking Cody for a drive. What do you need keys for? Figure out a way to distract the paparazzi yourself. No excuses for being lazy!]. I gave a bitter laugh and headed out anyway. The news of her engagement was explosive enough that most of the seasoned paparazzi had already snuck into the main hall. Only a few inexperienced stragglers were left waiting outside. I tried to slip away unnoticed. The day had left me emotionally and physically exhausted. In my haste, I misstepped and twisted my ankle, forcing me to limp a long way before I felt safe enough to call a car. At two in the morning, the incessant ringing of the doorbell woke me. I looked through the peephole to see a drunken Ava swaying on my doorstep. The moment I opened the door, she fell into my arms, murmuring, “Honey, I’m a little hungry. Can you make me some of that soothing chicken broth?” In the past, whenever she had a late night of schmoozing, I’d make her a pot of broth, worried about her stomach. This time, I just pushed her away, my face a blank mask. “I’m tired. Order something.” Her drunken haze seemed to clear a little. Her expression soured. “Leo Vance, have I been too nice to you? I told you beforehand this was a publicity stunt. I told you to stay calm and wait for my explanation. And now you’re throwing a tantrum?” I met her gaze evenly. “Then explain.” Her face flushed. After a few seconds of silence, she suddenly swept everything off the coffee table with a furious roar. “Why are you doing this? Why now?! We agreed from the start! We said we’d focus on our careers, and once I was successful, we’d get married! I just won a major award, but I’m still a long way from the top! “Being with Cody is for the buzz, for the exposure! If you can’t help me, fine, but at least don’t drag me down! You’re exhausting me!” She stormed out, slamming the door behind her. I stood in the living room for a long time, a desolate coldness seeping into my heart. Six years, and it was still the same old line: wait until she was successful. I took a deep breath. If I still held onto any illusions after this, then whatever happened next, I would have no one to blame but myself. It was time to get my head on straight. 2 Sleep was impossible now, so I scrolled through my phone and noticed an unread message from my father. [Leo, about that musician girlfriend you kept insisting Stellar Records sign. I never thought she was right for you. I assume you don’t want us to sign her now?] To help Ava, I had relentlessly badgered my family for resources. They’d finally given in and thrown a few contracts her way, helping her through her toughest period. But I’d thought it wasn’t enough. I demanded our family’s record label, Stellar Records, sign her to a long-term deal. Stellar Records had an incredibly high bar for talent. Based on Ava’s fame over the past couple of years, she didn’t actually qualify. But my love-addled brain hadn’t cared. I’d fought with my family for months, even giving them the silent treatment when they refused. Finally, they’d relented, making a deal with me: if Ava won this year’s Musician of the Year award, they would sign her. Thinking about it now, maybe I owed Ava a thank you for her little announcement today. If I’d been the one to drag down Stellar’s reputation, I’d be the family’s greatest sinner. I checked the time. My father was likely asleep. I decided to reply in the morning. But as I scrolled, I drifted into a hazy sleep on the couch. I was jolted awake before seven by a commotion downstairs. I opened the bedroom door and stepped into the hallway. Before I even made it to the stairs, Ava, who had just come in, saw me and her face darkened. “Get back in your room,” she snapped. “The media is coming for an interview.” I was leaving tomorrow anyway and didn’t want any more drama, so I turned to go back. “Wait! Go hide in the storeroom!” she called after me. “They’ll want to photograph the master bedroom. Go clean it up first. Make sure there’s no sign a man has been living here. Hurry up!” She then turned and pulled Cody in from the doorway. “What are you doing standing out there, silly?” I needed to pack my things regardless, so I didn’t argue. I went straight to the master bedroom. The packing was done quickly. It was laughable, really. I’d lived here for over two years, but the sum of my possessions was pitifully small. When I emerged with my suitcase, Ava and Cody were flirting. The moment she saw me, her face hardened. “What took you so long to pack your things? Fine, whatever. Just get in the storeroom. Now.” But I ignored her and walked toward the front door. Ava panicked. She rushed over to grab me, yelling, “They’re almost here! Are you trying to get yourself killed walking out now?” I was sleep-deprived and weak. She easily dragged me to the storeroom, shoved me inside, and locked the door from the outside. “Don’t come out until they’re gone!” Soon after, I heard the sounds of many people arriving. The noise was muffled; the villa she’d bought after making it big had excellent soundproofing. I could hear her giving them a tour, her voice fading in and out as she moved from room to room, chattering away. I hadn’t eaten breakfast, and a gnawing hunger began to set in. Nearly three hours later, the voices started to fade as the crew seemed to be leaving. But after that, Ava didn’t come back. My stomach was now aching with hunger. I wanted to message her and tell her to let me out, but when I pulled out my phone, I saw the battery was dead. I pounded on the door a few times, but it was useless. Ava hated having strangers in the house, so she only ever hired hourly cleaners. Most of the housework fell to me. It was ten o’clock at night when the door finally opened. By then, I was lying on the floor, on the verge of passing out from hunger. 3 Ava looked down at me, not with concern, but with a disgusted frown. “What are you being so dramatic for? It’s just one day without food. Seriously?” I was too weak to argue. I just managed to part my lips. “Oh my, Leo, are you okay?” Cody peeked out from behind Ava, his face beaming with unconcealed glee. “It’s all my fault. I told Ava I was craving the fish from that famous seafood place, so she drove an hour just to take me there. That’s why we’re back so late.” Ava waved a dismissive hand. “Don’t mind him. It’s not the first time he’s skipped a meal. He’ll be fine.” Her words sent a chill through me. I’d developed stomach problems years ago while running myself ragged trying to prove her talent to my parents, often forgetting to eat. To keep her from worrying, I’d always pretended it was nothing. Back then, she’d cried and promised that when she made it big, she’d treat me to the finest food in the world. Now, that memory had become a knife she used to stab me. A loaf of bread was tossed onto the floor in front of me. “Cody was kind enough to remember you probably hadn’t eaten, so he had me bring this back for you. You should be grateful.” I didn’t have the energy to fight. I grabbed the bread and wolfed it down, choking in my haste. I scrambled to the kitchen, grabbed the nearest cup, and filled it with tap water, gulping it down until I could breathe again. Cody burst out laughing behind me. “Leo, you looked like a starving ghost just now!” I turned around. He stuck his tongue out playfully. “Oops, sorry. I’m just a really direct person. I say what I think. No hard feelings.” Ava soothed him. “It’s fine, you weren’t wrong. He looked like he hadn’t eaten in a decade. How can he blame you for pointing it out?” She glanced at me. “Full now? Good. I have something to tell you. “Cody and I are engaged now. He’ll be living here, so it’s not convenient for you to stay. You can move out tonight.” I stared at her in disbelief. “It’s ten-thirty at night, we’re in a suburb with no cabs, and you want me to leave now? “And you locked me up all day, my phone is dead! Where am I supposed to go at this hour?!” Ava ran a hand through her hair, annoyed. “But the moving company is coming tomorrow. It’ll be awkward if they see you here! “Ugh, just figure something out. I can call a car for you. Once you’re in the city, you can charge your phone and find a motel or something for the night. Don’t worry, it’s a safe society, the ride-shares are all regulated. Nothing will happen.” I watched her, my gaze cold, as her expression shifted from evasive to furious. “What the hell do you want?!” she shrieked. “Stop looking at me like that!” Cody stepped in, the picture of reason. “Ava, why don’t we let Leo stay for one more night? He can just leave early in the morning.” Her face softened instantly for Cody. She turned back to me, her tone sharp. “Cody’s helping you out again. You’d better be more polite to him in the future. Fine. Be gone by six… no, five in the morning! “And don’t sleep in the bedroom tonight. Just crash on the sofa. It’ll be easier for you to leave early. “I’m being generous enough. Don’t push your luck!” “No need,” I said, my heart a dead weight. “Just give me twenty minutes to charge my phone. I’ll call a car and be gone tonight.” Cody put on a show of concern. “Don’t do that. It’s not really safe to get a car this late.” Right. As if calling one at five in the morning in the dead of winter, when it’s pitch black, would be any safer. Ava’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “What are you planning now? I’m warning you, if you try to pull anything at a time like this, don’t blame me for being ruthless.” “I promise I won’t cause any trouble,” I said coolly. “Just let me charge my phone. Please?” Cody started to protest again, but Ava stopped him. “If he wants to leave today, let him. Ungrateful jerk.” She pulled Cody away. “Come on, let me show you the master bedroom.” He wrapped his arms around her, grinning. “Great. I want to see where my future wife and I will be sleeping.” “Stop it! I haven’t said I’ll marry you yet!” I silently plugged in my phone. The moment it turned on, a flood of messages appeared, all from my parents. [Leo, please answer your dad. Are you angry?] [Son, don’t be mad. I talked to your father. If you want that woman signed to Stellar, we’ll do it. The company can handle one person.] [Son, please talk to me. Dad knows he was wrong. I’ll have her come in to sign the contract tomorrow!] I clutched the phone, tears blurring my vision. All this time, I had poured everything I had into Ava, while completely ignoring the people who truly cared about me. Looking at the long list of messages, I sniffled and sent them both a voice message, telling them not to worry and under no circumstances to sign Ava. I kept it brief, not wanting to worry them further, and just asked them to send a car to pick me up. They didn’t ask any questions. As soon as I gave them the address, they said they were on their way. Just then, Ava walked over. Seeing my red-rimmed eyes, she sneered. “Are you serious? It was just a small grievance. Once this blows over, you’ll still be my boyfriend. If you want to maintain our relationship during this time, as long as you’re careful…” “Thirty minutes,” I cut her off. Ava blinked. “What?” “The car picking me up will be here in thirty minutes,” I said flatly. For a moment, her expression was complex. “Don’t call some shady car service just to spite me. If you have to, just stay here one night. Tomorrow…” I closed my eyes and leaned back against the sofa. Ava’s words died in her throat. She huffed. “Fine. Sulk all you want. Don’t blame me if something happens to you.” The car my parents sent arrived even faster than I’d expected. The moment I heard the familiar purr of the engine, my eyes snapped open. I grabbed my suitcase and headed for the door. From behind me, I heard Ava’s hesitant voice. “What’s the rush? That might not even be your…” And Cody’s syrupy tone. “Let it go, Ava. Leo’s feeling awkward. Just let him leave. He’s been with you for so long, you have to protect his pride a little.” I ignored the wretched pair, flung open the door, and walked out to the Bentley Mulsanne waiting in the driveway.

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I found a girl passed out on the sidewalk, dead drunk. Being a decent guy, I got her a room at a five-star hotel to keep her safe. She thanked me by calling the cops and accusing me of rape. She sobbed on the stand. “I was drunk… I woke up in a hotel bed, naked.” “You monster,” she cried, pointing at me. “I don’t even know you. How could you do this to me?” … I paid an exorbitant amount for bail. The day after I got out, I saw her again. Same situation, passed out drunk on the street. This time, I walked on by. 1 “You bastard! She’s only twenty! Are you even human?!” A middle-aged man, his eyes bloodshot, screamed at me, his voice cracking with rage. If the bailiffs weren’t holding him back, he would have torn me apart with his bare hands. Beside him, the girl, Tina, was a portrait of sorrow, her shoulders shaking with sobs as if I were some kind of monster. “Mr. Vance,” the opposing counsel’s voice was like ice, “my client, Miss Tina Reed, accuses you of raping her two nights ago in room 708 of the Grand Astoria Hotel. How do you plead?” The comments on the livestream of the trial were a torrent of hate. “Scumbag! Fry him!” “Looks so clean-cut in that suit, but he’s a total predator.” “That poor girl. They need to throw the book at him!” I stood in the defendant’s box, my mind a complete blank. I thought back to two nights ago. I was on my way to meet friends after a work dinner when I saw a girl passed out on the sidewalk. A group of guys who looked like trouble were circling her, whistling, their intentions clear. I frowned and walked over. “What do you think you’re doing?” They were younger than me, but I’m built solid. They muttered a few curses and shuffled off. I knelt and gently tapped the girl’s cheek. “Hey, wake up. Where do you live?” The reek of alcohol was overpowering. She was completely unresponsive, just mumbling something incoherent. I looked in her purse for a phone or an ID, but all I found was makeup and a set of keys. Leaving her there, dead drunk, was just too dangerous. I sighed, hauled her to her feet, and half-carried her to the nearest decent place, the Grand Astoria. I got her a room and laid her on the bed. I remembered my first-aid training and made sure to turn her on her side, in case she got sick. The moment I did, she threw up. All over the brand-new Armani suit I was wearing for the first time. The smell was so foul I almost joined her. I stripped off the ruined jacket, threw it in the trash, pulled the covers over her, and left. My friends were waiting. I thought that was the end of it. A small, insignificant act of kindness that had cost me a new suit. Bad luck, nothing more. The next day, I was in the middle of a crucial project meeting at my firm when two police officers walked right into the boardroom. “Who’s Alex Vance?” Every head in the room turned to me. “We’re from the city PD. You’re a suspect in a sexual assault case. Please come with us.” In front of my bosses and my entire team, they slapped handcuffs on my wrists. In that moment, I went from the company’s rising star to its resident rapist. 2 “Mr. Vance, please explain to the court why you would take a complete stranger, a drunk young woman, to a hotel?” Tina’s lawyer was relentless. “Like I said, I was concerned for her safety,” I answered calmly. “Her safety?” he sneered. “So your ‘kindness’ was to get her a hotel room?” “She was unconscious. I couldn’t get an address out of her. A hotel was the safest option at the time.” Tina’s father exploded again. “Bullshit! You were just using that as an excuse to take advantage of my daughter!” “Order!” the judge warned, banging his gavel. The lawyer continued. “Hotel security footage shows you entering room 708 with Miss Reed at 11:10 PM and leaving at 11:35 PM. What did you do in that room for twenty-five minutes, Mr. Vance?” “I got her settled, dealt with my ruined clothes, and left.” “Dealt with your clothes? Or dealt with the evidence of your crime?” Tina’s sobs grew louder. “When I woke up, I was in the hotel bed. My clothes were off. My head was pounding… I couldn’t remember anything.” She pointed a trembling finger at me, her eyes filled with a mixture of terror and hatred. “I found the room key on the nightstand and had the front desk look up who paid for it. It was him. I don’t even know you! Why would you do this to me?!” Her accusation was like a bucket of ice water dumped over my head. I looked straight at her. “Let me ask you,” I said, my voice low and steady, “do you have a single piece of evidence that I touched you? Any marks on your body? Any physical evidence from the room?” Her lawyer answered for her. “My client underwent a full examination. Due to your sophisticated methods, you left no obvious signs of violence! But that does not exonerate you! As for evidence, my client was disoriented. Who knows if you cleaned the scene?” Her father roared, “My daughter’s word is all the proof we need! She’s a good girl! Do you think she would ruin her own reputation to frame you? What kind of monster are you?!” The online vitriol intensified. “Still denying it! What a piece of work.” “These smart criminals are the scariest. They know how to cover their tracks.” “She has no reason to lie. Believe the victim!” I was trapped. A young woman’s tears were the most powerful “evidence” in the world. In the court of public opinion, a thirty-year-old man taking a drunk twenty-year-old to a hotel was guilty by definition. My explanations were useless. The lawyer pressed on. “Mr. Vance, you claim this was an act of kindness. Have you ever performed similar acts of ‘kindness’ before? Can you produce a single witness to testify to your sterling character?” I was speechless. I was an orphan, raised on the pension benefits of my father, a fallen soldier. I’d worked my ass off to get where I was. I didn’t have a large circle of friends, and certainly no one I could call to vouch for my moral character on a witness stand. My silence was taken as an admission of guilt. The judge looked from me to the weeping girl and called for a recess. “We will reconvene next week to examine the prosecution’s evidence.” Because I was the son of a war hero and had a clean record, and because my father’s old unit stepped in to post an astronomical bail, I was temporarily released. The moment I stepped out of the courthouse, I was swarmed by reporters. The flashbulbs were blinding. Tina’s father broke through the crowd and punched me square in the jaw. “Scumbag! I’ll kill you!” I didn’t fight back. I couldn’t. I was out on bail. If I retaliated, I’d be back in a cell with an added assault charge, and tomorrow’s headlines would read: ACCUSED RAPIST ATTACKS VICTIM’S FATHER OUTSIDE COURTHOUSE. 3 My life was in ruins. The company put me on indefinite leave to “handle my personal affairs”—a polite way of firing me. In my apartment complex, neighbors would see me and immediately cross the street, their eyes filled with disgust and fear. My landlord called and told me to get out, said I was ruining the building’s reputation and he was getting grief from the other tenants. I locked myself in my apartment, poring over legal texts. The evidence was all against me, the DA was sharp, and the public had already convicted me. Tina’s father had used his media connections to paint me as a monster. Someone had even dug up the fact that my parents were fallen heroes. “He’s spitting on their graves!” “They should strip him of his parents’ honors! He doesn’t deserve them!” “Human trash.” Those words hurt more than any punch. I turned off my phone, feeling the walls close in. That night, I went out for a walk, just to breathe. I found myself at the same intersection as two nights ago. And I froze. A familiar figure, in the exact same pose, in the exact same spot. It was Tina. She was drunk again, passed out on the cold pavement. Her purse was open, lipstick and a compact scattered on the ground. The night air was chilly, and she was wearing nothing but a thin dress. I stood about thirty feet away, just watching her. My fists clenched and unclenched. I saw her father’s twisted face. Her lawyer’s cold, accusatory eyes. Her own pitiful, tear-streaked performance on the stand. Help her again? And wait for another accusation when she sobered up? Maybe this time it would be robbery? A bitter laugh escaped my lips. To hell with kindness. This world doesn’t deserve it. I pulled out my phone. 10:30 PM. Then I turned and walked around her, like stepping over a piece of trash that had nothing to do with me. Behind me, I heard a few low whistles as a group of young men headed in her direction. I didn’t look back. 4 The next morning, the frantic buzzing of my phone woke me. It was my lawyer. “Alex! It’s bad! Turn on the news!” I switched on the TV. The local morning news was covering a story. “Tragedy struck last night as a young woman was found deceased on a city street. Police have identified her as twenty-year-old Tina Reed. A preliminary investigation suggests the cause of death was asphyxiation after choking on her own vomit while intoxicated…” The screen showed Tina’s face, pale and lifeless. Police tape cordoned off the scene. The anchor’s voice was filled with sorrow. “Sources say Miss Reed had been drinking heavily. If only a kind passerby had noticed her condition and helped her, even by simply turning her head to the side, this tragedy might have been avoided. The death of this young woman is another stark reminder that apathy is the most terrifying disease of our society.” I stared at the screen, my face a blank mask. A kind passerby? The last kind passerby was being raked over the coals by the entire country and was about to face prison time. Just as I turned off the TV, my phone rang. It was her father’s number. I didn’t answer. I could imagine the venom, the unhinged accusations he would be screaming into the phone. He would blame me for his daughter’s death. In his mind, it was all my fault. Sure enough, within half an hour, the narrative online had shifted. #RapeVictimDiesAfterOrdeal The hashtag shot to the top of the trending list. The comments were a baying mob, calling for my head. “He’s a murderer now!” “It wasn’t just rape, it was manslaughter! He needs the death penalty!” “Avenge this poor girl! Make the monster pay!” My face and personal details were plastered all over the internet again. I was now the villain responsible for a young girl’s death. My lawyer called again, his voice grim. “Alex, this is not good. Public opinion is overwhelmingly against you. They’re saying you killed her. You need to be prepared for court this afternoon.” “Prepared for what?” I asked. “They’re going to use this. The pressure on you will be immense. You…” “I know,” I cut him off. I hung up, walked into my bedroom, and put on my best suit. I stood in front of the mirror and straightened my tie. The man looking back at me was calm, his eyes cold. Tina, you tried to ruin me with a lie about your honor. Now you’re trying to bury me with your death. You and your self-righteous father have underestimated me. This game is just getting started. At 1:30 PM, I was back in the defendant’s box. The gallery was packed with reporters. Tina’s father sat in the front row, dressed in black, his bloodshot eyes fixed on me like a predator.

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1 Shane Crawford paid a fortune for coffee beans that cost thousands of dollars a pound, all so he could hand-brew me a pour-over every single morning. Facing a global livestream, he told the cameras, “My wife isn’t a morning person. Only the scent of fresh coffee and a kiss can wake her.” The whole world thought he was madly in love with me. But I was staring at the small bouquet of daisies tucked into his suit pocket in the video as I sent him a text. 【Let’s get a divorce.】 … The news that the CEO of Crawford Corporation had bought out a top Panamanian estate’s coffee beans at a record-breaking price became the headline of the week. Shane’s and my names shot to the top of the trending topics. 【My husband can’t even be bothered to get me a glass of hot water when I’m on my period, but Shane Crawford makes his wife coffee every morning. Jealousy is a disease, and I’m terminal.】 【When are Shane and Sienna having a baby? I need to time my reincarnation just right.】 【What did Sienna Scott do to deserve a life this good?!】 Shane had never been shy about his grand displays of affection, and I had once been swept away by their intensity. But I couldn’t lie to myself anymore. The moment he got my text, he called. “Sweetheart, don’t do this. You can yell at me, hit me, whatever you want. But don’t you ever say that word. It would kill me.” “Shane, I’m serious.” “Tell me what you’re angry about. I’ll fix it,” Shane’s voice was impossibly gentle, as if he were incapable of anger. “I don’t like daisies.” He was silent for a few seconds. “That’s it? That’s what this is about?” “Yes. That’s it.” It took him a moment to remember why. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart. It was an oversight. Hannah must have picked it out when she was prepping everything, and I didn’t even notice. Don’t be angry. When I get home tonight, you can have me any way you want as compensation.” When did his assistant, “Ms. Vance,” become just “Hannah”? He probably didn’t even notice the slip himself. Years ago, a single daisy had bloomed in our garden. Shane hired a crew to excavate the entire garden, scorching the earth for seven days just to ensure not a single seed remained before replanting it with roses. How could a man that meticulous be so careless as to pin a bouquet of daisies to his chest? The winter garden outside my window was lifeless, just like my marriage, dying a slow death. A few minutes later, Hannah Vance’s call came through. “Mrs. Crawford, I’m so sorry. It was my mistake, and I’m terribly sorry for upsetting you. Please, don’t be angry with Mr. Crawford. I’ll be much more careful next time.” Her voice was a fragile whisper, as if a slight breeze could carry her away. I knew Shane was right there with her. “Next time?” I sneered. “What other disasters are you planning to cause next time?” “Sienna, that’s enough,” Shane’s voice cut in, sharp and protective. “The kid apologized. Be a little gracious.” Of course. He couldn’t bear to see her suffer the slightest grievance. A soft sob came through the phone. “It’s okay, I’m fine,” Hannah cried. “Sienna can say whatever she wants to me, as long as she’s not angry with you, Shane.” “Hey, stop crying. It’s nothing, really,” Shane soothed, his voice a low, gentle murmur. But to me, it was a razor’s edge, slicing a bloody gash across my heart. “Just leave me alone.” I couldn’t stand to listen to another second of it and tossed the phone aside. A moment later, two messages pinged. One was from Shane. 【You’ve yelled, you’ve let off some steam. Feeling better now? My dear wife is getting quite the temper. You’re making my life difficult. ;)】 I gave a bitter smile. So, raising my voice to the person he was comforting was considered “yelling.” The other was from Hannah. 【Oops, I forgot. Your mother jumped to her death in a field of daisies, didn’t she? Were they pretty? As pretty as this?】 She attached a photo. A vast field of white daisies stretched to the horizon. The world spun. I reached for a chair to steady myself but missed, collapsing to the floor and hitting my head on the wooden leg. My mother had jumped right in front of me. My father’s endless affairs had worn her down to nothing. Her final, desperate leap was the only thing that made him stop. “Love makes you pathetic. It makes you weak. Don’t become me.” Her last words still echoed in my nightmares. Shane and I were high school classmates. Girls flocked to him, but he only had eyes for me. I rejected him ten times, but each refusal only fueled his determination. Later, my father’s company was on the brink of collapse. He wanted me to marry into the Ashford family to secure funding. Shane had cornered me then, his eyes red. “Why him? Why a stranger you don’t even know, but not me?” The next day, Shane showed up with an investment contract for my father. “Sienna is a free woman,” he’d said. “You can’t force her to marry anyone.” The left side of his face was swollen that day. I knew his own father must have beaten him for that contract. I pressed an ice pack to his cheek and asked him if he wanted to marry me. He stared at me for a long time, and then he started to cry. After we married, he truly did spoil me rotten. He memorized all my likes and dislikes, planning elaborate surprises for every holiday. When I had nightmares, he would hold me tight, stroking my back until I fell back asleep. I used to think my mother was wrong. Love could make a withered rose bloom again. How could it make someone weak? It wasn’t until a few months ago, when he hired Hannah Vance as his assistant against my express wishes, that I understood. Shane was no different from any other man. He never understood my hostility toward a fresh-faced college graduate. But I knew from the moment I saw her photo that he would hire her. Because she looked exactly like I did in high school. The version of me that Shane could never have. After sending the text, Hannah posted on her social media. 【I’m such an idiot. I messed up big time, and the boss canceled my year-end bonus. I just want to hide somewhere and cry.】 Shane commented instantly. 【Everyone messes up. Take the afternoon off. Go have a good cry.】 I couldn’t tell if he was protecting my honor or just flaunting their relationship in my face. After lunch, I drove out to our spa villa in the suburbs. It was a wedding gift, but we’d moved out because the commute was too long. Many of my important documents were still stored there. Before I even reached the door, I heard the sound of splashing water. The villa had a small outdoor hot tub in the courtyard. We hadn’t been here all year. There shouldn’t have been any noise. “Feeling better? Still want to cry?” Shane’s voice, so painfully familiar, drifted through the wall. A chill ran down my spine. He’d brought her to our wedding home. “You owe me my bonus!” Hannah’s voice was no longer weak, but laced with a flirtatious pout. “You were a bad girl. You need to be punished so you learn your lesson. I told you not to provoke Sienna. That is my one and only rule.” “Then you should have sent a company-wide email about it! I feel so wronged.” “I know you do. Did you like that apartment we looked at last week? You should move in. It’ll be more convenient for you to get to work.” “Is that all I get? You’re just trying to buy me off?” “Then what do you want?” Hannah’s voice dropped to a breathy whisper. I couldn’t hear the words. I only heard the sound of water sloshing violently from the tub. “Hmph. I’ll make you cry out for a different reason,” Shane’s voice was hoarse and low, but every word was perfectly clear. I knew Hannah was confident in their relationship to have taunted me with the daisies. But hearing it for myself, right outside the door… the agony was a physical blow. I pressed my hand to my mouth to keep from being sick and dragged my leaden body back to the car. My mother was right. Love really does make you weak. But I would not become her. I took several deep breaths and called Shane. “Sienna, baby, what’s wrong?” He sounded a little breathless. “Where are you?” “In a meeting with a client.” “I can’t find one of the old contracts. I was wondering if it might be at the spa villa…” I tested. “No way, it wouldn’t be there. I remember moving all the important documents to the house. Just look again.” “Are you sure? I think I’ll go check anyway.” “Don’t go—” His voice shot up an octave. “I mean, it’s not safe for you to drive all that way alone. I’ll go with you this weekend, okay?” “Forget it. It’s not urgent. Get back to your work.” I hung up, my hand numb. A message from Hannah arrived instantly. 【So you check up on him too? Let me give you a status report.】 She sent a photo. On a nightstand, a box of condoms was nearly empty. Bile rose in my throat. The man who swore he would cherish me for a lifetime was utterly filthy. I didn’t go home. I drove to an event production company. Next month, they would be handling the 20th-anniversary celebration for Crawford Corp. To liven things up, Shane was scheduled to perform a televised underwater escape act with a professional magician. “Can I be the one in the tank? I want to give my husband a surprise.” “Mrs. Crawford, without proper training, it’s very risky.” The company was afraid of an accident and hesitated. “A hundred thousand dollars for my training. I’ll be here every day.” “Well, in that case… You and Mr. Crawford are truly a match made in heaven. So romantic.” “Please keep it a secret,” I said, forcing a smile at their praise. Since he loved playing the doting husband for an audience, I would tear up his script myself. I would disappear from the world, right before his very eyes. When Shane got home that night, I was still reviewing the materials from the production company. “Sweetheart, I got held up at the client’s. I’m so sorry I’m late.” “What happened to your forehead? Are you hurt?” He leaned in, tilting my face to inspect the scrape. As he did, his shirt collar gaped open, revealing a faint red mark on his collarbone. I snapped my laptop shut and pushed him away in disgust. “Still angry?” He pulled out a square jewelry box and opened it. Inside lay a magnificent emerald necklace worth half a million dollars. “I’ve had my eye on this for a while. It’s perfect for you. Do you like it?” I laughed at the absurdity. I never thought I’d sink so low. He buys Hannah an apartment and immediately “compensates” me with a necklace. How pathetic. He actually thought he could balance the scales between his wife and his mistress. I pushed the box away. “I don’t like it.” “Can’t you just be agreeable for once? You’re impossible to please. Harder to handle than any of my clients.” Shane finally lost his patience and slammed the bathroom door. He didn’t know that I used to be easy to please because I never wanted to argue with him. Now, I was impossible because I had no intention of ever forgiving him. In the weeks leading up to the gala, I became increasingly busy. I saw less and less of Shane. But someone else was keeping me updated on his schedule. 【He introduced me to his friends today. We all went out for drinks. It was fun. Why do you think they dislike you so much?】 【Ever done it in a car on a mountain top? He’s an animal.】 【Guess where I am? Your old high school track. I can barely walk.】 【This is boring. You never reply. Are you just going to let me walk all over you? How does it feel to be abandoned? Feel like killing yourself yet?】 I ignored Hannah. Shane’s taste was truly appalling. I dialed the most recent number in my call log. “How is he?” I asked in a low voice. “Is the old man still alive? Did he sign?” “Mr. Scott has agreed to transfer all his company shares to you,” the voice on the other end replied. Satisfied, I hung up, a bit of the weight lifting from my chest. I opened a drawer and scanned the contents—contracts, documents, plane tickets—my eyes finally landing on a set of divorce papers. On the day of the gala, I dressed in simple, casual clothes for convenience. Hannah, however, arrived in a stunning, form-fitting silver gown that showcased her figure perfectly. But the real showstopper was the emerald necklace she wore. The very same one I had rejected. Shane had publicly stated the necklace was a gift for his beloved wife. Now, seeing it on his assistant, the crowd began to whisper. Shane’s eyes flickered over the necklace, and he said to Hannah, “Take it off.” Then he saw me in my plain clothes, and his brow furrowed. “Why are you dressed like that? Where’s your sense of occasion?” “A dog ate it.” In the dressing room, Hannah deliberately dangled the necklace in front of me. “This was supposed to be yours, but it’s mine now. Don’t worry, I’ll take everything that belongs to you, piece by piece.” I didn’t waste a second. I slapped her across the face. “Go back to digging through the trash, little bitch.” The theater was packed. Every Crawford Corp employee, every invited client and media member, filled the seats to capacity. When it was time for the highly anticipated magic act, the applause was deafening. Shane stood center stage, bathed in a single spotlight. When he asked the audience to welcome his partner, a look of confusion crossed his face. “Sweetheart? What are you doing up here?” I bowed graciously to the audience. Whispers erupted from the front rows. “Is that his wife?” “A husband and wife act? Are they trying to kill us with their cuteness?” I took Shane’s cold hand. “This is my surprise for you. Are you ready?” As the audience realized who I was, the cheers grew even louder. Shane, ever the showman, recovered quickly. He pulled me into a hug and kissed my forehead. “Sweetheart, you’re amazing. I’m completely blown away.” “Oh, the best is yet to come.” I smiled and held out my hands, signaling for him to apply the handcuffs. “Are you sure about this?” he whispered, his hands trembling. “Don’t worry. I won’t mess it up.” He secured my hands and lifted me gently into the water tank. I took a deep breath as the cold water enveloped me. A large cloth was draped over the glass tank. The sounds from outside were distorted, but I could faintly hear Shane leading the countdown. “30, 29, 28… 10, 9, 8…” The countdown ended. A spotlight hit the empty escape tank on the other side of the stage. The entire audience held its breath. Suddenly, a scream erupted from the front row. Shane turned, confused. He saw that while the figure in the escape tank was gone, the original tank was now clouded with a spreading pool of crimson. “Sienna! Sienna!” Shane was shaking, his eyes darting to the audience where I was supposed to have reappeared. The spotlight followed his gaze. The seat was empty. “Sienna! Where are you? Don’t scare me like this!” “Somebody! Help!” His panicked shouts boomed through the speakers, and the entire venue descended into chaos. “Let’s go. Take me to the airport.” I sat in the back of a Maybach parked behind the theater, toweling my wet hair as I watched a livestream of the event on a new phone. The scene was pure mayhem. Stagehands swarmed the stage. The main camera, pointed right at the chaos, had been forgotten. I watched Shane’s colorless, horrified face on the small screen. He was frantically directing people to search for me while fumbling for his phone to call me. Suddenly, he froze. The phone slipped from his grasp and clattered to the floor. He had seen it. A faint light glowed from within the blood-red tank. It was my phone, which I had “dropped.” The sight of it sent him into a greater panic. He yelled for someone to retrieve it. The production crew told him they’d checked the secret passage. I had simply vanished into thin air. “You told me this was perfectly safe! That it was foolproof!” he roared, his voice cracking. “We don’t know what happened! Mrs. Crawford trained with us every day. We ran over a dozen rehearsals without a single issue. She kept saying the surprise had to be perfect.” Shane’s eyes turned red. “Find her!” he screamed at the crew. “I don’t care if you have to tear this theater apart, find my wife!” When they handed him my phone, he used his own birthday to unlock the screen. He stood on stage, frantically scrolling, desperate for a clue. But it was no use. I had wiped every contact, every call log. The SIM card was deactivated. The only thing he could find was the photo gallery. Filled with screenshots of every single message Hannah had ever sent me. As he scrolled, his face grew darker and darker. He was so engrossed that he didn’t see the edge of the stage, stumbling and falling into the orchestra pit below. Hannah rushed to his side, but the look in his eyes made her recoil in terror. “It was you,” he snarled, a feral light I had never seen before in his eyes. “You pushed her to this. How dare you?” “If anything happens to Sienna, I will end you!” He shoved Hannah to the ground and scrambled back onto the stage. “Shane, no! It’s dangerous!” Hannah screamed, seeing him climb onto the water tank, ready to jump in. She grabbed his legs, trying to hold him back. “Don’t… touch me,” he hissed, his voice ragged with hysteria. “I have to know where she went.” He kicked out violently, catching her in the chest. She collapsed, gasping in pain. With a huge splash, Shane plunged into the two-meter-deep tank, thrashing in the bloody water. The theater was a cacophony of screams, shouts, and sobs. Soon, the wail of sirens filled the livestream. When the police led Shane away, his face was streaked with tears. “Let me go! I have to find my wife! She could be in danger…” So much noise. So very, very loud.

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My best friend and I married into the same powerful family on the same day—I married the uncle, Mike Pei, and she married his nephew, Adrian. At the wedding, our fathers were brutally beaten by bodyguards. We begged Mike and Adrian to stop, but Mike accused them of harassing his beloved Elara. I insisted it was a misunderstanding, but he called me a liar. Defeated, I knelt and apologized to Elara. My friend was slapped by Adrian and blamed for ruining everything. We rushed our fathers to the hospital, but it was too late. The wedding cost us our families and futures. Overcome with regret, we tried to leave—but they came after us. 1 The light above the emergency room door went dark. My father and my best friend’s father were wheeled out, covered in white sheets. The moment the doctor shook his head, my best friend and I collapsed to the floor, sobbing into each other’s arms. Nurses hurried past us, their voices low but clear. “Did you hear? The Pei family is paying millions to have the hospital’s top psychiatrist treat their precious Elara’s trauma.” “I heard she was harassed by two old men at the wedding.” The words struck me like a physical blow. My nails dug into my palms, drawing blood that dripped silently onto the polished floor. Elara Jiang. The woman Mike and Adrian had always loved but could never have. And the monster responsible for our fathers’ deaths. At the wedding, Elara’s screams had drawn everyone’s attention. We’d rushed over to find our fathers cornering her against a wall. She was a picture of distress—tear-streaked, the collar of her dress pulled down to her shoulder, her skirt hiked up in disarray as she struggled to break free from their grasp. The guests gasped. Mike and Adrian exploded with rage. They didn’t give our fathers a chance to explain. They just ordered the bodyguards to attack. My friend and I knelt at their feet, pleading, telling them those were our fathers, begging them to stop. But Elara just cried harder. “I already gave Mike and Adrian to you. Why won’t you leave me alone? Why did you have to hire two old men to assault me?” “They even took pictures… Are you claiming they’re your fathers just to protect them? To get those photos and ruin my reputation?” That sealed it. Mike and Adrian were convinced we were lying. They forced us to watch as our fathers were beaten unconscious. By the time they reached the hospital, there was nothing to be done. A wedding had become a funeral. Suddenly, my phone buzzed. It was a video, sent from the wedding photographer who had caught it by chance. In the clip, Elara deliberately mussed her own clothes before throwing herself into our fathers’ arms, clinging to them so they couldn’t push her away. A second later, she started screaming. My vision went red. I looked up and saw her across the hall, being coddled by Mike and Adrian like a precious jewel. Rage surged through me, a hot, blinding wave. I charged toward them, my eyes burning. “Elara, you liar! It was all an act! You set it all up!” Mike stepped in front of me, his eyes cold with impatience. “Sienna, when are you going to stop this nonsense?” “If you hadn’t hired those men to attack Elara, the wedding would never have been canceled. You brought this on yourselves.” The mixture of disappointment and anger in his eyes was a dagger to my heart. Tears streamed down my face. I held out my phone, playing the video for him. “Mike, I didn’t do this. Please, you have to believe me.” Elara’s eyes filled with fresh tears, and she let out a soft sob. “Sienna… you even forged a video just to frame me…” Seeing Elara’s wounded expression, Mike and Adrian’s faces softened with pity. Mike snatched my phone and smashed it on the floor. He then slapped me, his voice dripping with disgust. “Sienna Yang, you are the most vile, venomous woman I have ever met. You sicken me.” I stared at him in disbelief, the blood freezing in my veins. My best friend was draped over her father’s body, her cries echoing in the sterile hallway. “Our fathers are dead, don’t you understand? Elara killed them! Why won’t you believe us?” Annoyed by her wailing, Adrian strode over and kicked the gurney, sending it rattling against the wall. “What an act,” he sneered. “You almost had me believing they were really your fathers.” He kicked my father’s covered body. “Stop playing dead. Tell us how much these two paid you to harass Elara and put on this little show.” When there was no response, a vicious glint entered his eye, and he kicked again, and again. “NO!” I screamed, my eyes bloodshot, and threw myself over my father’s body to protect him. Adrian’s boot slammed into my back with such force that I nearly vomited blood. Mike’s brow furrowed for a split second. But Elara spoke first, her voice a gentle balm. “Mike, Adrian, please don’t be angry with them because of me. I’m just an outsider. It’s okay if I’m treated unfairly. I’m sure Sienna and her friend won’t do something like this again.” Adrian’s face was a mask of fury. “They dare to have a ‘next time’?” Mike’s expression darkened. “Elara, you are not an outsider.” “And don’t worry. Once you’ve recovered, I will make them pay for what happened today.” His cold, menacing gaze sent a shiver down my spine. I bit my lip until the metallic taste of blood filled my mouth, the pain sharpening my senses. My voice trembled. “I’m not marrying you.” My friend looked at Adrian with utter despair. “I’m not marrying you either.” For a moment, their expressions flickered. Then, indifference settled back in, as if they were certain we’d come crawling back. “Suit yourself,” Mike said coolly. Adrian scoffed. “You were the ones begging to get married, not me.” With that, they escorted Elara away, brushing past us without another glance. The moment they were gone, my friend’s tears started anew. I gently wiped them away, my own heart aching. We were from ordinary families. The Peis of the capital were a world away, a dynasty we could never have touched. But we had saved Mrs. Pei’s life by chance. She was Mike’s mother, Adrian’s grandmother. She was the one who had arranged our marriages. I had felt that Mike liked me, at least a little. But that affection was meaningless next to Elara, his first love who had just returned from abroad. In fact, that affection had cost me the only family I had left. And against the power of the Pei family, we couldn’t even get justice for our own fathers. I held my friend close. “Let’s go. Let’s get as far away from them as we can.” We took our fathers to the funeral home to be cremated. With their ashes in hand, we went to the Pei family estate to see Mrs. Pei one last time. Seeing us standing there, holding the urns of our fathers, her voice caught in her throat. Any words of apology for her son and grandson died on her lips. She took our hands, and after a long moment, she spoke, her voice bitter with regret. “I’m so sorry.” “The Pei family is prepared to compensate you.” I gave a hollow laugh. “Mrs. Pei, please, just let us go.” Her expression was complicated. In the end, she returned the marriage contracts to us. The Peis were a traditional family of old money. A legal marriage certificate meant less than a formal pact, acknowledged by the head of the family. I remembered how Mike and Adrian, to show their sincerity, had written the vows in their own blood, a symbol of a bond that transcended life and death. They had been sincere then. But that sincerity was a fleeting illusion, a mirage that vanished as quickly as it appeared. Now, without these contracts, they were free. After returning to our rooms, we changed out of our wedding dresses. As we were packing, Mike and Adrian returned. With Elara. Mike’s eyes fell on the suitcase at my feet, and his face darkened. “Where do you think you’re going?” “I haven’t settled the score with you for what you did to Elara.” I ignored him, taking my friend’s hand and walking toward the door. I knew nothing we said would change their minds. I just wanted to escape this suffocating place. As we reached the door, Elara’s plaintive voice drifted over. “Mike, Adrian, if they don’t want to apologize, don’t force them. I don’t want you fighting with them because of me again.” The words had their intended effect. Adrian slammed the door in our faces and locked it. My heart seized. Mike’s gaze hardened, a glacial coldness radiating from his eyes. “Get on your knees. Apologize to Elara.” His command was a blade that carved a hole in my chest, the pain making it impossible to breathe. Adrian didn’t even bother to speak. He kicked the back of my friend’s knees, forcing her to the floor in front of Elara. Before I could react, Mike grabbed a fistful of my hair. The searing pain in my scalp blinded me. When I could finally breathe again, I was kneeling like a lamb for slaughter before the woman who had murdered my father. Elara leaned in close, her words a poison whispered in our ears. “Did you know? You killed your own fathers.” Our eyes shot wide. She smiled. “They didn’t die from the beating.” “Mike and Adrian decided they weren’t worthy of being saved. They ordered the doctors to stop the surgery. They let them bleed out on the table.” “Can you imagine what that was like? Lying there, conscious, feeling your own life drain away?” “It’s all your fault. You two daughters sent your own fathers to hell.” The color drained from my face. My best friend completely shattered. With a wild scream, she launched herself at Elara, slapping and clawing at her. “You’re a monster!” Elara didn’t fight back, just collapsed into a heap of sobs. Everyone was stunned. Adrian reacted first, kicking my friend away. Mike gathered Elara into his arms, cooing and comforting her. Adrian tenderly wiped the tears from her cheeks. Seeing the red handprints on her face, his own face contorted with rage. He spun around, grabbed my friend by the hair, and yanked her head back. “I’ve been too good to you,” he snarled. “And it’s made you bold.” SMACK! “That was for being born without a heart.” SMACK! “That was for being a woman who would destroy another woman’s honor.” SMACK! “And that was for all the times you’ve schemed against Elara…” My friend’s face swelled, becoming a grotesque mask of bruises. But Adrian didn’t stop. I tried to help her, but Mike held me back. The relentless sound of the slaps echoed in the room, a hammer pounding against my heart, making my entire body tremble. One hundred slaps. My friend finally went limp, blood trickling from her mouth as she collapsed against a suitcase, unconscious. The fall knocked her marriage contract onto the floor. Only then did Elara speak. “Adrian, stop. I didn’t want to make things worse.” “But they are your fiancées, chosen by Mrs. Pei. With that status, they feel they can do anything to me without consequence.” “It’s better to be clear today, so they won’t bother me again.” Mike’s face was stone. “Elara, if they were capable of listening to reason, they wouldn’t have targeted you again and again.” “They think being my fiancée gives them power? Fine. I’ll make sure she never gets to be my wife.” He snatched the marriage contract from my luggage. In front of my eyes, he set it on fire. He grabbed my chin, his eyes like chips of ice. “From now on, you’re nothing but a kept woman. A pet. Do you understand?” The ashes of our contract drifted into my eyes, extinguishing the last flicker of love I ever had for him. Fine. Without that paper, we were both free. Adrian, following his uncle’s lead, burned his contract with my friend as well. Numbly, I helped my friend to her feet as she stirred, my expression blank. “Can we go now?” Mike’s eyes darkened for a moment. “Where will you go?” Adrian just waved us away impatiently. “Let them go, uncle. They’ll come crawling back on their own.” Their condescending smirks met a dead, silent pool in my heart. We will never come back. I stumbled out, supporting my friend. As we passed Elara, I spoke, my voice devoid of emotion. “You think you’ve won? You think you can marry into the Pei family now?” “You will never be anything more than a dirty little secret.” A flash of anger crossed her face. I took my friend and left the Pei estate. We found a clinic to patch up our injuries. Even hearing that Adrian had burned their contract, my friend’s face remained blank. Neither of us had ever imagined our wedding day would become our fathers’ funeral. We had both lost our mothers when we were young. Our fathers were all we had. Now, all we wanted was to bring them home. We took their ashes back to our hometown and began preparing for their burial. Even far from the city, news of the Peis reached us. Mike and Adrian publicly bidding against each other for jewelry that Elara admired. Tabloids publishing stories of the three of them living together. Paparazzi photos of Elara kissing Mike one day, and Adrian the next. None of it touched me. My heart was numb. I focused only on the funeral. But on the day we were to bury our fathers’ ashes, Mike and Adrian found us. They arrived like a storm. “Come back with me,” Mike demanded. “I need you to tell my mother that I have no intention of marrying Elara. I’m only being kind to her because I owe her.” I gave him a dead-eyed stare. Mrs. Pei despised Elara. Years ago, Mike and Adrian had nearly destroyed each other fighting over her. It was Mrs. Pei who had sent Elara abroad to end it. Now that the scandal was public, they were afraid of history repeating itself. They needed us as a shield to protect Elara. I used to love him enough to endure any humiliation. Now, I just found my past self pathetic. I turned away, muttering, “Get lost.” My friend, however, found her voice. “Isn’t everything in the papers true? If you have nothing to hide, why don’t you explain it to Mrs. Pei yourselves?” “Besides, we have nothing to do with you. You’re both CEOs, used to getting your way. Are you really so shameless that you have to cling to us now?” Adrian snapped first. “If my grandmother didn’t only trust your word, do you think we’d be here?” “Just come back with us. Do this one thing, and we’ll allow you to move back in.” His tone was one of magnanimous charity. They had no idea that Mrs. Pei had already investigated everything. Seeing my continued silence, Mike’s face hardened. “Sienna, how long are you going to keep this act up?” “I promise you, we can have another wedding. Didn’t your father say it was a custom in your hometown to have a ceremony here as well? Fine. I agree.” “If you’re worried, we can do it right now.” “But after the wedding, you are coming back to the Pei estate with me.” At the mention of my father, a hot rage surged through my veins. I stopped what I was doing and spun on him. “You have no right to even say his name! I’ve told you a hundred times, my father is dead! Elara killed him. You both killed him! You’re murderers!” Mike’s brow creased in annoyance. “What is wrong with you? Do you think your father would want to hear you cursing him like this?” Adrian sneered. “He must have been a real sinner to have a daughter who wishes him dead.” I didn’t want to argue anymore. I raised the shovel in my hands. “Get out! Today is my father’s funeral. Don’t you dare disturb his peace.” Mike’s patience was gone. He glared at the fresh graves. “You’d rather attend some pathetic funeral than have your own wedding?” Before I could react, he snatched the shovel from my hands and plunged it into my father’s grave. Adrian followed his lead, grabbing my friend’s shovel and starting to dig. I screamed, and we lunged at them, but their bodyguards held us back. We were forced to watch as they desecrated the graves we had dug with our own hands, exposing the simple porcelain urns that held our fathers’ ashes. With cold sneers, they smashed the urns before our eyes. A cloud of dark ash scattered in the wind. The shock was too much. My best friend fainted in my arms. Mike strode toward me, looking down his nose at me. “Be smart. Come back with me now. Don’t force me to prepare a grave for your living father.” Just then, the village elder came running toward us with the police. “Who are you people? How dare you desecrate Sienna’s father’s grave! You’re breaking the law!”

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Everyone could hear my seven-year-old stepson’s thoughts—except me. At Thanksgiving dinner, I carefully removed the shellfish he was allergic to from his plate. He hung his head, shoulders slumped. [Grandma, I’m scared! Stepmom said I don’t deserve expensive food, but it smells so good!] My mother-in-law slammed the table, stood up, and slapped me. “You bitch! Is this how you treat my grandson?” Later, while pregnant and sick, I used an app to arrange a ride for Leo to school. He went down an hour early, crouching tearfully by the entrance. [I’ll be late… Is she sending that uncle who hates Dad again?] After that, I wasn’t just the “evil stepmother”—rumors spread that I was unfaithful. When my husband Daniel confronted me, I had no defense, hoping our baby would calm him. But Leo sighed from the corner. [How do I tell Dad the baby is the other uncle’s?] That broke Daniel. He dragged me to the rooftop and threw us both off. When I opened my eyes, I was back at Thanksgiving, my cheek still stinging. But this time—I could hear Leo too. 1. At the dinner table, my mother-in-law heaped a generous serving of roasted potatoes onto Leo’s plate, her voice thick with pity. “Leo, darling, you’ve gotten so thin again. Haven’t you been eating properly?” My sister-in-law, sitting beside her, chimed in with a saccharine smile, her eyes dripping with contempt. “Oh, Mom, can’t you see? It’s obvious someone with a wicked heart has been deliberately starving him.” The kitchen had been a sweltering furnace, but my heart felt like it was encased in a block of ice. The next second, Leo’s thoughts flooded my mind, dripping with a carefully crafted, fake timidity. [I want to tell Grandma that I never get enough to eat. At night, when I’m hungry, I have to sneak sips of cold water to fill my stomach… But if Stepmom finds out, she’ll hit me again.] Leo timidly lowered his head, but I didn’t miss the flash of venom in his eyes. [Stepmom said the crab is too expensive, that I’m just a useless waste of money who doesn’t deserve it.] [But it smells so, so good… Maybe when she’s done eating, I can secretly lick the plate. She won’t find out, right?] In my past life, this was how he’d branded me the “evil stepmother.” My mother-in-law had assaulted me in front of all our relatives, and when Daniel tried to defend me, she’d screamed him into silence. I had tried to explain over and over that Leo was allergic to shellfish, but no one listened. My mother-in-law even worked herself up into such a state she had to be hospitalized. Even Daniel had frowned, chiding me for arguing with his mother. And just like that, the labels “child abuser” and “disrespectful daughter-in-law” were permanently stuck to me. The tragic irony was that I genuinely believed I was the problem. I thought my communication skills were flawed, and I started obsessively rehearsing every word before I spoke, which eventually led to a spiral of severe depression and anxiety. Only now, reborn, did I understand. It was all Leo. He had been using his strange ability to manipulate everyone, to orchestrate my expulsion from this family. Just as his thought finished, my mother-in-law’s face flushed a deep crimson. “So that’s it! My son works himself to the bone to provide for this family, and you stay home abusing his child? Clara, he’s seven years old! Is your heart made of stone?” I immediately put on a wounded expression, shaking my head frantically. “Mom, how can you say that? Leo is allergic to shellfish! I was just looking out for his health!” A flicker of excitement crossed Leo’s face, and his inner voice became even more pathetic. [Why is Stepmom lying about my allergy? The doctor said I’m just underdeveloped because of long-term malnutrition!] My mother-in-law pounded the table, making the silverware jump. “He could eat anything when his real mother was around! The moment you show up, he’s suddenly allergic to this and that!” “Do you take us for fools? You think we can’t see through your disgusting little schemes?” My sister-in-law piled on. “Clara, ever since you married my brother, I’ve watched Leo get thinner and thinner. But you… you’ve put on a few pounds recently, haven’t you?” “And even if he is allergic, what’s the harm in a few bites? He’s a growing boy, he needs the nutrition!” I lowered my eyes, pretending to be convinced, and gave a small nod. “You’re right. Mom, you and Sarah know best. I wasn’t thinking clearly. You have more experience.” My mother-in-law snorted, then gestured for my sister-in-law to serve Leo. Sarah was quick, and in moments, a mountain of shrimp and crab meat was piled on Leo’s plate. He devoured it like a wolf, occasionally glancing up to shoot me a look of pure triumph. I pretended not to notice, my eyes fixed on the angry red welts beginning to bloom across his neck. “Eat up! They’ve starved my poor grandson to skin and bones!” my mother-in-law cooed. Sarah nodded, but as her gaze swept over Leo, she suddenly shrieked. “Leo, you’re having a reaction!” My mother-in-law’s first instinct was fury. “Oh, so now you’re worried about the cost too, are you?” She whipped her head around, her angry retort dying on her lips as she saw Leo clutching his throat, his face contorted in agony before he tipped backward out of his chair. 2. In the hospital room, the doctor’s voice was a low, angry reprimand. “How could you be so irresponsible? You knew the child had a severe shellfish allergy and you let him eat that much? Another minute, and he would have been dead.” My mother-in-law puffed out her chest, trying to argue, but her bluster had deflated. “People get sick. It’s normal. Who’s to say it was the allergy that made him pass out?” “I think… I think you doctors did something to him!” “Mom! That’s enough!” Daniel’s voice was a low growl, his fists clenched so tight his knuckles were white. “If you had just listened to Clara for one second, would any of this have happened?” Looking at Leo’s pale, bloodless lips, a flicker of regret crossed my mother-in-law’s face. Then, she spun around and slapped Sarah hard across the cheek. “This is all your fault! You were the one saying a little bit wouldn’t hurt him!” “And look what happened! My grandson suffered because of you!” Sarah, stunned, cradled her stinging cheek. “Mom! It was you! You were the one who said he wasn’t allergic, that it was just an excuse Clara made up because she’s cheap!” “You said, ‘a new wife means a new father,’ and that Leo was probably suffering in silence! How is this my fault?” “When did I ever say that? That was you!” They argued, their faces red, until their eyes fell simultaneously on Leo’s still form on the bed. Their expressions grew complicated. “It was Leo…” my mother-in-law murmured, her voice trembling. “Leo said… he said he was always hungry, that he had to do so many chores…” Sarah frowned, her tone uncertain. “He also said Clara was always yelling at him, and sometimes… sometimes hitting him.” They had believed Leo’s every word without question. After all, who would suspect a seven-year-old of such elaborate lies, especially when my position as a stepmother was already so precarious? But after witnessing the violent allergic reaction with their own eyes, a seed of doubt had been planted. I feigned a look of utter devastation, a bitter smile on my lips. “Leo has a sensitive stomach. The doctor told us he should only eat until he’s about seventy percent full. Any more is bad for him.” “As for chores, that was a ‘life skills’ assignment from his school. I would never force him to do heavy labor.” I wiped away a tear, my voice thick with false grief. “We’ve been married for a year. I’ve poured my heart and soul into caring for Leo, and to think he would spread such lies about me behind my back…” Sarah instinctively started to retort, “That’s impossible, Leo’s only seven, he wouldn’t…” But as she thought about it, she realized that every negative impression she had of me came directly from Leo’s thoughts. She had never actually seen me mistreat the boy herself. My mother-in-law’s face went pale. The same realization was dawning on her. Just then, Leo’s eyes fluttered open. Unaware that his scheme was unraveling, he immediately started projecting his thoughts. [Grandma, Aunt Sarah, I’m so scared… Is Stepmom going to yell at me again? I didn’t mean to have a reaction, I just wanted to eat something nice for once…] But this time, my mother-in-law and Sarah only offered a few half-hearted words of comfort. The pity in their eyes was gone, replaced by a sharp, probing scrutiny. Leo, confused by the change, looked crestfallen. But when his gaze landed on me, it was filled with pure, unadulterated hatred. I looked at him and almost laughed. A little bit of suspicion was nothing compared to the hell they’d put me through in my past life. My mother-in-law, embarrassed, stayed away for a long time. It was Sarah who came to me, offering a quiet apology. When she mentioned Leo, she hesitated. “Clara… from now on… you should probably keep a closer eye on Leo. I think there’s more going on in that little head of his than we realize.” Leo, too, seemed to have settled down. But I could see the darkness growing behind his mask of obedience. It wasn’t long before the familiar waves of nausea returned. I gently placed a hand on my still-flat stomach, my resolve hardening. “Don’t worry, little one. This time, Mommy will protect you.” One morning, the sickness was so bad I couldn’t get out of bed. Just like in my past life, I ordered a courier to take Leo to school. I knew his performance was about to begin. I took a walk around the complex and, sure enough, I found him in the community playground, putting on a show for a small crowd of neighbors. [I’m going to be late for school! But Stepmom gets so angry if you wake her up. She’ll hit me!] [When Dad’s not home, so many strange uncles come to visit.] [I wonder if the one taking me to school today is Stepmom’s favorite?] 3. Leo’s dramatic sobs quickly attracted a circle of concerned mothers from the neighborhood. He pretended not to see them, wiping away crocodile tears. [That uncle always says bad things about Dad. He said that when he and Stepmom get married, they’re going to send me away…] [If Dad knew, he would be so heartbroken, right?] Half an hour later, Daniel stormed through the front door, his face a thundercloud. “Where is he? Tell me where you’re hiding your lover!” I looked at him calmly. “I haven’t done anything like that. If you don’t believe me, you can check the security cameras.” Daniel let out a cold, humorless laugh and turned toward his office. “Fine. Let’s check. Let’s see just how much of a liar you are.” Just then, Leo’s thoughts, laced with panic, cut through the air. [No wonder Stepmom unplugged the cameras! She was afraid Dad would find out about the uncle!] Daniel froze, the disappointment in his eyes so thick it was almost tangible. “Clara, you really have thought of everything, haven’t you?” I didn’t argue. Instead, I called out toward the door. “Mrs. Peterson, Mrs. Gable, would you mind stepping in for a moment?” The women who had been comforting Leo filed into our apartment, their faces a mixture of curiosity and judgment. I led them into the office and pulled up the security system on the monitor. “Please, have a look. This is the footage from the last month. You can all see for yourselves whether I’ve been bringing strange men home.” Eight high-definition feeds played simultaneously, showing nothing but me. Me, waking up early to make Leo breakfast. Me, cleaning the house while he napped. Me, helping him with his homework at night. Occasionally, when the morning sickness was bad, the camera would catch me resting on the sofa for a few minutes. As they watched, the expressions on the women’s faces began to change. “Oh, Clara, dear, we are so sorry. We completely misunderstood.” “Look at this footage. You treat Leo so well. You spent two hours making him that special bone broth porridge, and he just knocked it over. Then he ran outside telling everyone you made him eat off the floor…” Leo, seeing his narrative crumble, panicked. He wasn’t done yet. [Is Stepmom doing this on purpose? She must have deleted the videos with the uncle in them and only kept the good ones to show everyone!] [Besides, this is all old footage! If she was really so nice to me, why would she make a strange man take me to school?] The flicker of doubt in Daniel’s eyes vanished, replaced by disgust. “A lie is still a lie. Why won’t you show us the recent footage? Are you afraid we’ll see that you’ve finally dropped the act?” I looked at his distrustful face, and the last shred of hope I had for him died. “The doctor said I’ve been overexerting myself. If I don’t get some bed rest, I could lose the baby.” The room fell silent. A hint of joy crept onto Daniel’s face. “You’re… you’re pregnant?” But before the news could sink in, Leo’s thoughts struck again. [No wonder that uncle brought Stepmom so many supplements yesterday! It’s because she’s having a baby!] [But the baby isn’t his, so why was he so happy? Why did he hug Stepmom’s tummy and say, ‘You have to grow up healthy and strong, little one’?] The color drained from Daniel’s face. His eyes were filled with a terrible, hollow despair. “Clara, I want you to swear to me. Swear that this child is mine.” “Of course I can!” I said, my voice choked with emotion. I raised my right hand, ready to make the oath. But Mrs. Peterson grabbed my arm, her face grim. “Clara! Don’t you be foolish just because you’re young. You don’t make oaths like that!” “What if it comes true one day? What will you do then?” The other women chimed in, a chorus of warnings, as if they had personally witnessed me in bed with this phantom lover. I tried to speak, to explain, but my voice was drowned out by their concerned shouting. Leo shot me a grin, a dark, triumphant smirk. I took a deep breath, ready to lay out the entire, ridiculous truth. But then, a familiar voice cut through the noise from behind me. “Clara, what’s going on here?” The next second, Leo’s thoughts exploded in my mind. [It’s him!] [No, it’s the baby’s real daddy!]

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My father was paralyzed in a car accident. My childhood sweetheart, Lara, secretly changed her college major to pre-med, vowing to help him walk again. I was so moved that I dropped out of school, worked every odd job I could find, and gave half of the money I earned for his medical bills to her, to fund her education. Eventually, I became Lara’s husband, and she became my father’s doctor. But last night, my father fell from his hospital bed. He pressed the call button all night, struggling, but the doctor who had vowed to save him never came. By the time I rushed back with the money for his surgery, the fingers he had wrapped around the call button were already cold and stiff. The next morning, Lara finally showed up. She was clinging to the arm of a handsome young male assistant, her voice a playful pout. “From now on, whatever your father needs, I’ll be there in a heartbeat. Isn’t that why I became a doctor? To protect the ones I love?” I gathered all of my father’s belongings and left a single sheet of paper on the empty bed: a divorce agreement. But Lara and her assistant blocked my way. 1 I felt nothing but a hollow numbness as I packed away my father’s things. When I finally looked up, the sky was already turning a pale, washed-out gray. The on-call room door was ajar, the room empty. The night had passed. But my sun would never rise again. I stared, transfixed, at the two names on the duty roster. On-Call Physician: Dr. Lara Song. On-Call Assistant: Alex Cheng. When did it start between them? I had no idea. In the beginning, I worked day and night, taking any job I could get just to make ends meet. Later, all my energy was focused on caring for my paralyzed father. For more than a decade, I’d been running on fumes, held together by sheer willpower. I wasn’t blind. I’d seen the lingering glances between Lara and Alex, the way they always seemed to be touching. But I didn’t have the strength to confront them. Besides, my father’s recovery depended on her. Now, the reason for my silent endurance was gone. Maybe our marriage had been a lifeboat adrift on a stormy sea for a long time. The sound of a man and woman laughing echoed from the end of the hallway. “From now on, whatever your father needs, I’ll be there in a heartbeat. Isn’t that why I became a doctor? To protect the ones I love?” The coquettish voice belonged to my wife of five years, Lara. Her slender fingers were wrapped around the arm of a handsome young man. His name was Alex. He was a recent graduate, Lara’s new assistant. He radiated youthful energy, dressed in a tailored white shirt and gleaming leather shoes, the cuffs of his trousers adorned with gold-thread embroidery. Not like me. I glanced down at the oil stain on my T-shirt, the hole in my jeans. “Jules? Are you okay? Your eyes are all red,” Alex said, finally recognizing the disheveled man in front of him. He looked away, a flicker of guilt in his eyes as he quickly pulled his arm from Lara’s grasp. Annoyed, Lara slipped her hand behind her back and hooked her pinky finger around his. Her smile vanished when she looked at me, her gaze impatient. “Julian, they say no son stays loyal at a sickbed for long. You know your father can’t be left alone, so what are you doing wandering around out here?” “Don’t think you can just relax now that I’ve agreed to do his surgery.” I felt a strange sense of calm. “You were the doctor on duty last night, weren’t you?” I asked, my voice flat. “Were all the patients in this ward less important than your date?” Alex gave me an oily, placating smile, his voice laced with a feigned innocence. “Jules, you’ve got it all wrong! My dad threw out his back yesterday, so I had to ask Dr. Song to come home with me and take a look.” I looked up and met his eyes, saw the challenge hiding beneath the surface. “Every doctor has their own responsibilities. You abandoned your patients and left your post without permission. Have you no professional ethics?” I turned to Lara, the carefully contained emotions finally breaking free. Grief and rage surged in my chest, forcing broken words through my clenched teeth. “Lara, let’s get a divorce. I wish you two a long and happy life together.” The love I once felt for her had become a blade, and it was twisting in my heart. She was the one who said she would save him. And she was the one who let him die. I remembered that day, years ago, when she held my father’s hand, her voice full of encouragement. Uncle, please, don’t give up hope. I’ll become the best orthopedic surgeon there is, and I’ll help you walk again. But last night, my father pressed the call button again and again and again. All he got was silence. Lara. The brilliant surgeon. The perfect daughter-in-law. My childhood sweetheart, my wife. For a handsome assistant she’d known for a few weeks, she had betrayed a decade of love and abandoned the promise she’d made at my father’s bedside. She’d thrown away even the most basic duty of a doctor. “Can you stop being so dramatic?” she snapped. “I’ve been up all night, I’m exhausted. We can talk about this at home!” Our argument was suddenly interrupted. “Dr. Song, Alex. I trust there were no incidents last night?” It was Dr. Evans, the head of orthopedics. Lara glanced toward my father’s room, a flicker of hesitation in her eyes, but then she nodded firmly. “None at all. What could possibly happen in the ortho ward? Besides, there are only ten patients.” “Perhaps, but we can’t afford to be careless,” Dr. Evans said, handing her my father’s chart. “I told Alex yesterday that this patient’s surgery had to be postponed. I noticed he was having chest pain and shortness of breath—I suspect it’s pneumonia from being bedridden for so long. I told you to arrange a respiratory consult immediately. The results should be back by now, right?” 2 Lara’s eyes darted to Alex. A flash of panic crossed his face, and he quickly avoided Dr. Evans’s gaze. Lara understood immediately and took the blame herself. “I’m his primary physician. His son has been caring for him personally, turning him over eight times a night. There’s no way he could have pneumonia. It’s probably something minor.” Dr. Evans frowned, his voice a low reprimand. “Lara, there is no such thing as a ‘minor’ issue with a patient. You have to be vigilant about every detail. And for God’s sake, his son is standing right here. Watch your tone.” Their words left me frozen in place. Ever since Lara had become his doctor, my father’s condition had actually started to improve. She’d told me about a new surgical technique, a spinal reconstruction, that could help him. If it was successful, he could leave his wheelchair behind and walk again. For the first time in years, I’d felt a glimmer of hope. But my father had refused the surgery. I knew he was afraid of the risks, terrified of ending up in an even worse state, of becoming an even bigger burden on Lara and me. But just last night, he had called out to me, his voice raspy, waking me from the cot beside his bed. “Jules, tell Lara to schedule the surgery.” “I’ve made up my mind. I’d rather take the gamble than be trapped in this bed for the rest of my life.” “In the locked drawer in my bedroom, there’s some money I saved up. Go home and get it.” “I know Lara makes good money, but it’s not right to always be asking her to pay. This one… I’ll pay for this one myself.” He handed me a small key. I was ecstatic. It wasn’t just about the hope of him walking again; it was a sign that he had found the courage to truly live. Then I glanced at the clock on the wall and came back to my senses. It was 1 a.m. “Dad, it’s too late,” I said softly. “Get some rest. I’ll go home and get the money first thing in the morning.” He shook his head, his movements slow, almost robotic. “Son, I’ve been trapped in this bed for over a decade. I can’t wait another minute.” It was a two-hour round trip by taxi from the hospital to our house. He saw my hesitation and held up the call button. “Don’t worry, this is a hospital. Lara’s on duty tonight. If I need anything, I’ll just call her.” He pleaded and insisted until I finally, reluctantly, agreed. Before I left, I noticed the on-call room was empty. I figured Lara was probably doing her rounds and didn’t think much of it. By the time I returned with the surgery money, my father’s fingers, wrapped around the call button, were already stiff. The doctor in the morgue had said, “He probably passed away not long after you left.” “But he was in the hospital! The on-call room is right next door, the call button was in his hand! Didn’t any of the doctors or nurses notice?” I’d pleaded. “He might have been saveable,” the doctor had replied, his voice full of a gentle regret. I had nothing to say to that. I lowered my head and arranged for his body to be taken care of. If I could trade anything to turn back time, I would. I would have stayed by his side. I wouldn’t have let Lara abandon her post for a tryst. I wanted to tear myself to pieces. And then I wanted to drag Lara down with me, to make her lie beside my father in his grave. But when I finished packing his things and ran into a late-arriving Lara and Alex, the rage turned to despair. Even if they paid with their lives, it wouldn’t give my father back that one night. Lara, sensing Dr. Evans’s displeasure, waited until he was gone before scribbling out a few requests for lung scans and shoving them at me. “If your father wasn’t feeling well, why didn’t you tell me directly? What kind of son are you?” I ignored her. I opened the insulated container my father had left behind. Inside were the last of his sweet rice dumplings. The glutinous skins, soaked soft in the broth, had split, spilling their sweet black sesame filling. Numbly, I started shoveling them into my mouth. The sweetness of the dumplings and the salt of my tears mixed on my tongue, turning to bitter ash. When I didn’t answer, Lara snatched the spoon from my hand. “Did you hear me? I’m talking to you.” The edge of the spoon scraped against my gums. A trickle of soupy broth and blood ran from the corner of my mouth, dripping onto the clean floor. She threw the spoon down in disgust, making no effort to hide her revulsion. “What is your problem? Who are you trying to impress with that ‘my-dad-just-died’ face?” Alex handed me a tissue, his voice dripping with false sympathy. “Jules, it’s all my fault. I was in such a panic, I made Dr. Song leave during her shift to go help my dad.” Lara strode forward, pulling Alex behind her. “Don’t you dare take the blame for this. He’s just looking for trouble. He thinks his father’s life is the only one that matters!” 3 I picked up the spoon and scooped up another broken dumpling, my words muffled as I shoved it into my mouth. “Lara, do you remember the promise you made to my father?” My dad was a truck driver. He raised me on his own, earning money hauling cargo on long-haul routes. Right before my college entrance exams, he worked for a month straight without a break, trying to save up for my tuition. He fell asleep at the wheel. The crash didn’t kill him, but it damaged his spine, leaving him paralyzed and completely dependent on others. I gave up my exams and dropped out of school to take care of him. And Lara, who had grown up with me, put down her paintbrushes and picked up a scalpel. Her promise still echoed in my ears. I met her stunned gaze and repeated her words, one by one. “You said you were giving up art willingly, to become a good doctor who could save people.” “You said you would be my loving wife, faithful and true, until the end of time.” I looked down at her, the bitter-sweet taste filling my mouth. “My father died because you abandoned your post. You didn’t keep either of those promises.” Alex looked terrified. “No way!” he blurted out. “Can a dead man press a call button? If I hadn’t silenced it last night, he would have woken up the entire floor!” His words were like a lit match to a fuse. I snapped. I lunged at him, wanting nothing more than to smash my fists into his smug face. But Lara threw her arms around me, holding me back. Her body was soft, but her words were like ice. “Alex just graduated, he doesn’t know how things work. He just accidentally overlooked your father’s needs.” “I apologize on his behalf. But you need to stop. Don’t use your father’s death to make a scene.” The container of rice dumplings clattered to the floor, spilling across the tiles. Lara’s eyes were red-rimmed. The warmth and affection she had once reserved for me were now being given to someone else. Alex shot me a triumphant smirk. A bitter laugh escaped my lips. “On what grounds are you apologizing for him? As my wife? As my father’s doctor? Or as his lover? Who’s the one making a scene with my father’s death?” “Lara, you’re a married woman, lusting after a fresh-faced graduate. Have you no shame? If you had regrets, you should have just told me. I would have let you go.” It takes two to tango. There had been signs of her changing heart for a long time. The first thing she did when she got to college was video call me to introduce me to her new classmates and professors. Now, she never even mentioned our relationship. She was beautiful and brilliant, the heir apparent to the department head. Her life was perfect, except for her uneducated husband and her dependent, burdensome father-in-law. And Alex came from a wealthy, well-connected family. He was carefree and irresponsible, a passionate spirit who lived by his own rules. He was everything I wasn’t, and he had captivated her. Without me, they would have probably gone public with their affair a long time ago. My words hit a nerve. A flicker of annoyance crossed her face. “And what good would regretting it do?” she sneered. “Would it let me escape this white hell that reeks of disinfectant?” “Would it let me pick up my paintbrushes and be an artist again?” “Can I get back the decade of my youth that I wasted?” I couldn’t take it anymore. I raised my hand to slap her. But Alex jumped in front of her, raising his own fist, ready to strike. THUD. It was the sharp crack of metal hitting bone.

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1 In my wildest years, I played a West Point cadet, used him, and then tossed him aside. Years later, he became the youngest Major General in Northern Command. When my family was implicated in a major scandal, he was the one who proposed a marriage alliance. Everyone said I was the luckiest woman alive, that marrying him was the blessing of a lifetime. But they didn’t know that every night, Adrian McCloud brought a different woman back to our home on the base. I was quiet, accommodating. I even made sure he had condoms ready. But he just smashed a vase, and soon after, his old flame was pregnant with his child. I remained indifferent. But that night, he exploded, pinning me against the door. “Serena, is your heart made of ice?” he snarled. Later, his old flame, Elara, and I went into labor on the same day. I knelt on the floor, clutching my stomach, telling him I loved him, begging him to get me a doctor. He held me, ecstatic. “You finally admit you love me!” “Liar.” He shoved me to the ground. Then he scooped Elara into his arms and boarded the ambulance without a backward glance. “The labor pains are what you deserve,” he’d spat. “This is your penance for what you did to me.” … I only caught a glimpse of his departing figure before he was gone. It felt like a dozen dull knives were twisting inside me, a pain so profound it stole all my strength, leaving me collapsed on the carpet. Amniotic fluid and blood pooled around me, gleaming darkly in the light. With every ounce of strength I had left, I rasped at our housekeeper, Martha, whose face was pale with shock. “Call an ambulance… please…” Martha wrung her hands. “Ma’am, the General gave specific orders… we have to wait for him to return…” “Wait for him?” I clutched my clothes, my voice trembling. “If anything happens to me or this baby, Adrian McCloud will never forgive you! Go now!” My shout made her jump. She was about to turn when Adrian’s adjutant, Lynch, blocked her path at the door. “Mr. Lynch, she’s bleeding! We have to get her to a hospital!” Martha stammered. Lynch’s gaze swept over the spreading stain on the floor, then settled on my bloodless face. His voice was cold. “The General’s orders were clear. You are to wait here for his return.” “Ma’am is merely throwing a tantrum. You two,” he gestured to the maids, “help her back to her room to rest.” “If you delay any longer and someone dies, can you bear that responsibility?!” I pushed myself up, pointing a finger that was as cold as ice. Lynch offered a hollow smile, but his eyes were glacial. “The General is at the hospital with Ms. Elara, who is also in labor. He said for you to wait here.” “You know the General’s temperament. No one disobeys his orders.” “I can’t wait! The baby can’t wait!” As the words left my mouth, a violent contraction seized me, twisting my insides until I thought I would break. I curled into a ball, cold sweat soaking through my clothes. “What are you standing around for? Get her to bed,” Lynch commanded sharply. Two maids rushed forward and, ignoring my agony, hauled me up by my arms, dragging me toward the bedroom. A fresh wave of warm blood trickled down my legs, leaving a trail of dark red droplets on the floor. “Blood! I’m bleeding!” I grabbed one of the maid’s wrists, my grip desperate. “Take me to the hospital! I’m going to lose the baby!” “Ma’am, we can’t,” the maid said, prying my fingers off, her face a mask of panic and guilt. “Maybe… maybe we should call the family doctor to come have a look?” “No! I need the military hospital!” “Ma’am, please don’t get agitated! I’ll go beg Mr. Lynch!” The maid scurried out of the room. The pain was drilling into me. The plush carpet was soaked through with blood and water. Minutes ticked by. No one came. I dragged my body to the edge of the bed just as another maid, Grace, came in. I grabbed the hem of her uniform, tears and sweat mingling on my face. “Grace… please, I can’t hold on much longer…” Grace’s eyes were red. “Ma’am, just hold on. I’ll go right now.” But as she turned, Lynch blocked her path. He sauntered over to me, his gaze flickering with a brief moment of hesitation at the blood on the carpet before it was replaced by cold indifference. “Have the family doctor take a look first. No need to make a fuss.” Not long after, the doctor arrived, medical bag in hand, flanked by two other servants. Before I could speak, they lunged forward, pinning my struggling limbs with surprising strength. “Let go of me! I need to go to the hospital!” I thrashed, tears and sweat pouring down my face. “The baby can’t wait!” The doctor examined me with a blank expression, then produced a few small white pills and instructed Martha to give them to me. “What is that?” I shook my head violently. “I won’t take it! Are you trying to kill my child?” “It’s a tocolytic. It will slow down the labor. The pain will lessen.” “No! The baby will be deprived of oxygen!” The doctor remained silent. “Dr. Evans,” I pleaded, “I remember your wife is due soon. If it were her lying here today, could you be so cruel as to force this medicine on her? Aren’t you afraid of retribution?” I turned my desperate gaze to Lynch. “Lynch, if anything happens to me or this child, you’ll be an accessory. Adrian will never spare you!” The doctor and Lynch exchanged a look. The doctor had just started to relent, to say he would take me to the hospital, when Lynch’s phone rang. He stepped out to take the call. When he returned, the fleeting hesitation on his face was gone, replaced by a cold, steely resolve. “Ma’am, I am truly sorry.” Lynch’s voice was flat, but it held an unyielding authority. “The General insists that you wait. It’s not that I won’t help you, but I cannot defy a direct military order.” He nodded at Martha. Understanding dawned on her face. She stepped forward, clamping a hand over my jaw while the other two servants pinned my shoulders. They pried my mouth open and forced the pills down my throat. I gagged, trying to spit them out, but they slid down my throat. Silent tears streamed down my face. I stared at the chandelier on the ceiling and let out a wild, grief-stricken laugh, the tears flowing faster. “Fine! All of you, remember this day! If anything happens to my child, I will haunt you from my grave!” “Her emotions are too unstable. Give her a sedative so she doesn’t harm the baby. Martha, watch her.” Lynch frowned, gave his orders, and left. I stopped struggling, limp as the long needle slid into my arm. So, this was it. In Adrian’s heart, his old flame was worth more than his own flesh and blood. To ensure the safety of her child, he would let his own child dangle at the gates of hell. The depth of my despair was matched only by the depth of my regret for ever agreeing to this marriage. I thought if I was good enough, accommodating enough, one day he would see my worth. There were even times I thought he felt something for me. Now I knew. You can’t make someone love you. Not even by carrying their child. I felt a faint flutter in my belly. The sheets were soaked through with my blood. I closed my eyes, fresh tears wetting my cheeks. Adrian McCloud, if my child dies, I will never, ever forgive you. The drugs began to take effect, and the contractions eased. But I was still bleeding, lying helpless and weak. Through a hazy fog, I heard Martha say, “Mr. McCloud.” My heart leaped. A flicker of hope ignited within me. He was back? Had he finally relented? Was he here to take me to the hospital? Maybe he did care, about me, about this child. I summoned all my strength and screamed at the phone in Martha’s hand. “Adrian! Get me to a hospital! The baby is not going to make it!” Startled, Martha fumbled with the phone and accidentally hit the speaker button. But the voice that came through was not Adrian’s deep baritone. It was Elara’s—syrupy sweet, dripping with a triumph she couldn’t conceal. “Oh, Serena, you must hold on. Adrian is with me right now. He can’t get away.” She paused, then instructed, “Martha, you must take good care of my dear sister Serena. Make sure she does exactly as Adrian says.” “Elara, put Adrian on the phone…” I was shaking with rage, screaming into the phone. Before I could finish, a hand clamped over my mouth, muffling my cries. Martha’s voice was sickeningly obsequious. “Ms. Elara, don’t you worry. We’ve already given her the medicine to delay labor. We will follow the General’s orders to the letter.” “Good,” Elara said, her voice smug. “If she’s still in pain, I know a way to help her hold on until Adrian gets back.” “What is it? Please, Ms. Elara, tell me!” Martha asked eagerly. I held my breath, waiting to see what new torture she had devised. Elara’s voice turned sinister. “Hang her upside down. The fetus will retract within five minutes. Then tie a rope tightly below her abdomen. That will buy some time. If that doesn’t work, well…” She drew out the words. “…you could always, for example, sew her up. The point is, wait for Adrian at all costs.” I shook my head frantically, muffled whimpers my only protest. Martha stood frozen, her face ashen. It took a long moment for her to speak. “Ms. Elara, I don’t think… that’s not right… someone could die…” “Nonsense,” she scoffed. “Back home, we do it all the time to make sure a baby is born at an auspicious hour. Children are tougher than you think.” She paused for two seconds. “Adrian is right here with me. This is all his idea. He asked me to call and give you these instructions. He said Serena’s temper needs to be tamed, and that he wants to protect my baby at any cost. If you go soft on her and something happens to me, Adrian will not be merciful.” Ignoring the bleeding and the searing pain, I threw off the servants holding me down. “No! Adrian wouldn’t do this to me and our child! You’re lying! You venomous bitch! Martha, don’t listen to her!” The next second, the servants slammed me back onto the bed. Tears streamed down my face as I pleaded with Martha. “Martha, you’re a mother. How can you do this to my child?” She was trembling, sweat beading on her forehead, the phone shaking in her hand. Elara’s voice pressed on. “Adrian said he’s going to divorce her as soon as he gets back. You’d better think carefully about whose side you’re on.” Then, she hung up. The room was silent for a moment. Then Martha turned to the servants. “Let her go.” My heart soared. She couldn’t do it. I weakly held out a hand. “Martha, quickly, the hospital… before it’s too late.” But she turned her face away, refusing to meet my eyes. “Get some rope,” she ordered. “Martha! What are you doing? You can’t!” I stared at her in horror. She acted as if she couldn’t hear me. The two servants pinned me down again. The coarse rope bit into my wrists and ankles, instantly drawing blood. Every slight movement was agony. “Ma’am, this is for your own good. Just hold on a little longer,” Martha said, before calling out, “Bring the frame.” “For my good?” I stared at her, tears blurring my vision. “Then don’t believe Elara’s lies! Adrian would never be this cruel! He swore he would never hurt me!” No one listened. They brought in a metal frame, the kind used for medical restraints. They dragged me by my arms, forcing me onto it, leaving a long smear of blood on the floor. The baby, as if sensing the danger, began to kick and thrash wildly. The contractions returned with a vengeance, stealing my breath. And then, they hung me upside down. My head roared. The baby slammed against my insides. Black spots danced before my eyes. Tears ran up my forehead and into my hair. “Adrian, come back… are you really so heartless?” “Adrian, I can’t… the baby… he’s going to…” As my consciousness faded, I thought I saw him walking toward me, smiling. He leaned down and kissed my forehead, just like he used to, his voice as soft as water. “Serena, I’ll protect you and our child from now on. Don’t cry.” “Serena, I would give up anything for you. Even my life.” I reached out, but my hand closed on empty air. A sharp, searing pain from the rope around my abdomen jolted me back to reality. A moment later, they cut me down. I fell heavily onto the floor, the impact jarring my bones. The rope tied around my belly dug into my flesh, intensifying the contractions. The more I curled up, the tighter it became, threatening to crush my organs. Suddenly, a tearing, downward pressure. I trembling pointed at Martha. “Now… I’m really… having the baby…” A maid who had just entered screamed. “Martha! The baby… I can see the baby’s head! We have to get her to the hospital!” Martha’s face was white, but she just paced frantically. I stared at her, too weak to do anything but beg. “Please! The baby will die!” She suddenly raised her hand, her eyes turning to ice. “Get a needle and thread. We’re sewing her up.” “No!” Grace, a maid who had been with me for years, threw herself in front of me, arms outstretched. “You’ll kill them both! If you’re going to sew someone, sew me first!” “How dare you disobey?” Martha shrieked. “But there’s so much blood!” Grace sobbed. “Martha, how can you be so cruel?” “If we anger the General and Ms. Elara, none of us will have a job! Our families will suffer!” Martha screamed back. “Tie her up! Stop her from interfering!” Two servants grabbed Grace and dragged her toward the frame. They sealed her mouth with duct tape. Her eyes bulged as she struggled, knocking the heavy frame over. It crashed onto her back. She convulsed on the floor, then went still. I watched, my eyes burning with rage. “Let her go!” I shrieked. “You inhuman monsters! I’ll see you all in hell!” The next second, tape was slapped over my mouth. Martha approached with a needle and thread. She ripped my dress open. The long needle plunged into the flesh between my legs. White-hot pain exploded through my body, as if I were being carved apart. I shook my head, tears and sweat pouring down my face as the servants held me immobile. “It’s catgut suture, ma’am. It dissolves, it won’t leave a scar,” Martha said, her face expressionless, as she continued to stitch. “No anesthetic is for your own good. Childbirth is more painful than this. Just endure it. When the General returns, we’ll take you to the hospital.” I looked at these cold, merciless faces, and I closed my eyes. I gave up. Just then, the door was thrown open with a deafening crash. “What in God’s name are you doing? Stop it, right now!”

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After I rejected Milo’s divorce proposal for the third time, I did something stupid. I compiled everything—the chat logs with his assistant, the hotel receipts—into a damning slideshow and blasted it all over the internet. I poured out five years of marital grievances, a testament of my pain written in blood and tears. Just when I thought I’d finally feel the sweet satisfaction of revenge, the police showed up at my door. That’s when I learned Milo had reported me for invasion of privacy. For that, I was about to face the five darkest days of my life in a holding cell. But on the third day, he came to see me. He brought our son’s latest award-winning essay for me to read. The title was: My Mom is a Psycho. In that instant, the bedrock of my convictions crumbled into dust. Seeing the contempt in his eyes, I finally broke. The fight went out of me. “Milo,” I said, my voice a raw whisper, “I’ll sign the papers.” — 1 “Kelly, you can ask for anything you want, except custody of our son.” Now that he had what he wanted, Milo’s aggressive posture softened. For the first time in months, he looked at me with something other than hostility. All the fight had drained out of me, too. There were no more hysterical arguments left in my soul. I stated my terms calmly. “I want one million dollars.” His face flickered with surprise. He had clearly expected another war, another dragged-out battle for our son. He had probably come prepared, armed with a strategy to dismantle my every claim to motherhood. But my request threw him completely off balance. “Just a million?” he asked, his voice laced with disbelief. “You take this money, and Leo will have nothing to do with you from this day forward. You understand that?” I met his probing gaze and gave a slow, deliberate nod. Milo opened his mouth as if to say more, then thought better of it. “Fine,” he clipped out. “The moment you’re released, we’ll file the papers. Don’t you dare play games with me, Kelly.” He left me with that final warning, turning his back and walking away. But just after he was gone, another visitor arrived. It was my mother, who I hadn’t seen in the five years since she moved to Paris. She had a lawyer with her. Before I knew it, she had posted my bail with an air of casual efficiency. Walking out of the police station, she fished a slim cigarette from her purse and flicked a lighter open with practiced ease. She exhaled a slow, thoughtful plume of smoke before turning her gaze on me, taking in my exhausted, disheveled state. “Ready to come with me now?” I’m twenty-seven years old. That was the second time she’d asked me that question. The first was when she divorced my cheating father. She walked away with nothing, wanting only to take me with her. But everyone around me, all the well-meaning relatives, whispered in my ear. A six-year-old would be a burden. A penniless woman couldn’t raise a child. So I ignored the cry of my own heart and chose to stay with my father. She accepted my decision without a fight and left without a backward glance. For years, a small, bitter part of me resented her for it. Resented her for abandoning me, for shattering our family. So when she flew in for my wedding to Milo, and she told me, “Kelly, learn to love yourself before you love anyone else. Don’t pour your entire being into another person. Be good to yourself,” I bristled. Back then, I was so naive. Ten years of history with Milo felt like an unbreakable bond. I believed he would love me as he loved himself, forever and always. I’d shot back at her with all the arrogance of a girl in love. “Do you think everyone is as selfish as you are? Always demanding love but never trying to be worthy of it.” She didn’t get angry. She just looked at me with a sad, knowing smile. Only now, sitting here, did I finally understand. I truly was a naive little fool. My throat felt like it was lined with shattered glass. Each word was a fresh cut. “As soon as the divorce is final,” I rasped, “I’ll go with you.” 2 I spent the night at my mother’s hotel. The next morning, dressed in the new clothes she’d bought for me, I went back to the house I had called home for six years. Our son, Leo, was in the living room playing with his toys. When he saw me, his eyes flashed with surprise, quickly followed by a wave of annoyance. He muttered under his breath, “Weren’t you supposed to be in there for five days? Why are you back in three?” Just then, Milo came down the stairs. He, too, looked startled to see me, as if he hadn’t expected me to be out so soon. He quickly schooled his features into a neutral mask. “You’re back,” he stated calmly. “Go wash up and get some rest. Don’t cause any more trouble.” I shook my head. “No need. Let’s go to the courthouse now and file for divorce.” At the word “divorce,” Leo’s face contorted. He scrambled behind Milo’s legs, shouting at me, “If you’re leaving, you’re not taking me with you! I’m not going anywhere with you!” The raw rejection on his furious little face was a familiar sting. I could only manage a hollow twitch of my lips. Milo had left Leo’s essay with me yesterday. I’d read it over and over, the words burned into my memory. “My mom is like a psycho,” he had written. “My dad works so hard, but she’s always fighting with him. She smashes things around the house like a crazy person and hits my dad. If I could, I wish this psycho woman wasn’t my mom.” The first time Milo asked for a divorce was right after I found out he was cheating. I had calmly taken pictures of the chat logs and hotel receipts on his phone. When he got home, I laid the evidence out before him, one photo at a time. My fists were clenched so tight my nails dug into my palms, but I held my rage in check. I was waiting for his confession, for him to fall to his knees and beg for forgiveness. I’d imagined a hundred different ways he would break down and apologize. But he didn’t. He just looked at me, his eyes devoid of guilt. Instead, there was a chilling arrogance, the brazen confidence of a man who’d been caught and simply didn’t care. “Kelly,” he said, “either you delete those photos and continue playing the quiet Mrs. Shen, or we get a divorce.” Until that moment, I’d foolishly thought that if he just said he was sorry, I could try to forgive him. For Leo. I didn’t want our family to break apart, didn’t want my son to relive my own childhood trauma of being forced to choose between his parents. But there was no apology. His shameless audacity ignited the fury I’d been suppressing. I grabbed the nearest object and hurled it at him, then another, and another. A storm of grief and betrayal broke loose. But then I heard the nanny’s voice from the hallway, talking to Leo. I froze, desperately trying to rein in my breakdown. I didn’t want my son to see this ugly, broken side of us. But it was too late. Leo saw me, a wild woman hurling things at his father. What he didn’t hear were the words Milo had said just moments before. Now, looking at this child who regarded me as if I were poison, I accepted the piercing pain of this wound, inflicted by the one person I brought into this world. “Don’t worry,” I said, my voice flat. “I don’t want you. I’ll be gone after the divorce.” Leo’s expression was a mixture of suspicion and hope. He looked up at Milo for confirmation. Milo met his gaze. “In that case,” he said coolly, “we’ll file the papers tomorrow. I’ll have my lawyer draft a parental rights termination agreement. Once you sign it, Leo will be able to relax.” At his father’s words, Leo’s eyes lit up, shining with pure, unadulterated anticipation. I swallowed hard. “Fine,” I agreed. 3 Milo’s lawyer was efficient. Within two hours, the agreement was in my hands. A document relinquishing all my parental rights. I signed my name without a moment’s hesitation. The second the pen left the paper, I heard a small, happy sigh from beside me. Leo snatched the document from the table. “I finally don’t have a psycho mom anymore!” he cheered. “No one at school can make fun of me now.” He caught me staring, and Milo’s gaze met mine, his eyes glinting with a faint mockery. “Someone took a picture when the police escorted you out of the house. It went viral online,” he explained, his tone thick with blame. “Because of you, Leo’s been getting a hard time at school.” He forgot, of course, that he was the one who started it all. I didn’t bother to argue. I let him heap all the blame onto my shoulders, just as he wanted. But the disdain in his eyes reminded me of the second time he’d asked for a divorce. That time, I had refused to accept it. Consumed by a desperate, maddening grief, I stormed into his office. In front of all his employees, I screamed my accusations, laying bare the affair between him and his assistant, Lana. He stood in the middle of the crowd, completely unmoved, watching my public breakdown as if I were a clown in a circus. I had forgotten. He signed their paychecks. They weren’t about to judge their boss’s private life or risk their jobs for a stranger. They all just stared, their eyes filled with a mixture of pity and amusement. Their gazes were like spotlights, leaving me nowhere to hide. I wanted to run, to disappear. Then I heard the whispers from the crowd. “She’s pretty, I guess, but she’s got nothing on Lana. If I were the boss, I’d make the same choice.” “Right? So many guys cheat, especially the rich ones. Why is she being so dramatic? Can’t she just learn to turn a blind eye?” “If I were her, I wouldn’t make a scene. Just take the money and live the good life. Making a fool of herself like this is just pathetic.” I stood there, paralyzed, as their words washed over me. A memory surfaced. The year Milo started his business. I’d helped him land a crucial contract by drinking round after round with a client, a night that ended with me in the hospital with a bleeding ulcer. Milo sat by my bedside, clutching my hand, his voice thick with tears. “Kelly,” he’d choked out, “I swear, I will never let you down. I’ll give you a home, I’ll make you the most envied wife in the world.” I opened my mouth to shout back at them, to tell them that he was the one who made those promises, that he was the one who swore we’d grow old together. But before I could speak, Lana came running over, her face streaked with tears. She dropped to her knees in front of me with a dramatic thud. “Mrs. Shen, please!” she sobbed, bowing her head. “I never meant to come between you and Mr. Shen. If you don’t want me here, I’ll resign immediately. I’ll never see him again. But I’m begging you, please don’t do this here! How can he face his employees after a scene like this?” She cast herself as the noble woman protecting her boss, and me as the unhinged wife. Milo looked at her, crumpled on the floor in a puddle of tears, and his heart clearly went out to her. He rushed over and helped her to her feet. Then he turned on me, his voice booming with fury. “That’s enough! Kelly, we’re getting a divorce! I can’t live like this for another day! I am sick of this suffocating life!” That day was also documented in Leo’s essay. I only learned then that he had skipped his after-school class that day to go to the office and play with Lana. And in his essay, he wrote: “My mom isn’t just a psycho, she’s so embarrassing. I don’t understand why I have a mom like her. I wish Lana was my mom instead.” 4 I agreed to the divorce. I signed away my rights as a mother. For Milo and Leo, it was a day of celebration. They took the agreement and went out, eager to commemorate their victory. As I started packing my bags, a new post popped up on Milo’s social media feed. It was a photo of him, Leo, and Lana, all wearing matching family outfits. Milo, who rarely ever smiled, was beaming. The brilliant, joyful smile on Leo’s face was just as piercing. Lana stood between them, the very picture of a gentle, loving mother. I glanced at it for only a second before a message from my mom lit up my screen. “I have your new passport ready. As soon as you file the papers tomorrow, come with me. We can come back just to pick up the final decree when it’s time.” “Okay,” I typed back, without hesitation. I used to tell myself I had to be a good mother, a mother who always put her child first. I wanted him to grow up happy, to know he was loved. So I never told him about the C-section. How the pain was so blinding I almost passed out several times. Milo wasn’t there. I had to stay conscious. I’d heard horror stories about babies being switched or stolen when no one was watching. So I bit down hard, enduring wave after wave of agony. Finally, I couldn’t take it anymore and called Milo, sobbing. He didn’t answer. I assumed he was busy with work and forced myself to swallow my pain. It was only after his affair came to light, after all the ugly truths were spilled, that I found out where he was. While I was in a hospital bed, crying in agony after being cut open for our child, he was in someone else’s bed, enjoying a much softer embrace. The night Leo had a raging fever and I was simultaneously struck down with appendicitis, frantic and in excruciating pain, Milo was on another one of his “business trips”—in that same woman’s bed. He was blind to my suffering. On the rare occasions he felt a pang of guilt, he would shower me with expensive gifts. And when he saw the genuine joy on my face, a dark, ugly thought would cross his mind: Kelly is so easy to please. He told me this himself. He recounted my moments of gratitude as if they were a joke, completely forgetting the years when we had nothing. Back when we lived in a cramped, dark basement apartment, he would see other men’s girlfriends, so polished and beautiful, and then look at me, worn down by work and worry, and his eyes would fill with tears. “Kelly,” he would whisper, his voice thick with emotion, “I’m the luckiest man in the world to have met you. How could I ever live without you?” He swore he would give me the best of everything. Whenever he got paid, he’d spend half his meager salary on a pretty dress or a piece of jewelry for me. “You deserve so much better, Kelly,” he’d say. “Just wait a little longer. Everything they have, I’ll give it all to you, and more.” I waited. And I hoped. Day after day, I dreamed of the beautiful future we would build for our little family. But reality was a relentless blade, stabbing at a heart already riddled with scars. I finished packing. I went through the house and tore up every photograph of myself, then hired a cleaning service to scrub away every last trace of my existence. Tomorrow, after filing the papers, I would leave. Milo and Leo didn’t come home that night. I didn’t call to check on them. The next morning, I was at the courthouse as we’d agreed. Milo arrived half an hour late. As he got out of his car, he saw me. I was wearing a vibrant red dress. A flicker of something—surprise, admiration—crossed his face before he quickly masked it with a smirk. “Why are you wearing the dress from our wedding day?” he drawled. “Having second thoughts?” I looked at him and shook my head. “Red is for celebration,” I said. “And today is a day worth celebrating.” The smirk vanished from his face. He looked into my eyes, as calm and still as a deep lake, and a flicker of unease crossed his features. “Are you sure about this? No regrets?” he pressed. “You know me, Kelly. I don’t look back. Once we sign these papers, we’re strangers.” I pulled out my phone. Right there, in front of him, I deleted his number, his messages, every digital trace of him from my life. Then I turned and walked toward the courthouse entrance. “Let’s go,” I said. “It’s our turn.” After it was done, we walked out into the sunlight. Without a single backward glance, I walked toward my mother’s car parked by the curb. Milo watched my resolute figure walk away, and an inexplicable hollowness bloomed in his chest. He reached out, his hand grasping for something to hold on to. But all he caught was empty air.

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The day my med school application madness hit its peak, my wealthy biological parents showed up. Turns out, I was the real heiress, switched at birth. The moment I stepped into their mansion, the fake heiress, Isabelle, started sobbing about how the shock of not being their real daughter was making it hard for her to breathe. My eyes lit up. “Hold still. I’ve dissected a frog. Let me have a look.” My new father frowned, warning me in a stern voice not to bully her. I ignored him, spun around, and slid to my knees in front of my new brother, grabbing his hand with feverish excitement. “Bro, you have to have a rich pre-med friend, right? Oh my god, please, I will literally worship the ground he walks on!” 1 Isabelle stood there, clutching the handle of her suitcase, her shoulders shaking with sobs. “Mom and Dad said what happened in the past has nothing to do with me, but I’m so scared my sister won’t forgive me! I should just go!” She said she was leaving, but her feet were glued to the marble floor. My mother wrapped a comforting arm around her, stroking her silky hair. “Isabelle, what are you talking about? You’ve lived in this house your whole life. You’re our precious daughter! No one is kicking you out.” My father’s expression darkened as he turned his intimidating gaze on me. “That small town you came from is a complete backwater. Isabelle couldn’t possibly live like that. Just think of her as your new little sister and try to be more accommodating.” I bit my tongue so hard I tasted blood, but I couldn’t stop myself. “Wow, a classist and a bigot. Is there a tumor pressing on your frontal lobe? You should really get that checked out.” My father, realizing his gaffe, froze. His face went rigid, and he didn’t say another word. Just then, I spotted a young man in a sharp suit walking in from the entryway. He had the same eyes as me. My focus shifted instantly. I scrambled over, a huge grin plastered on my face, and grabbed his hand. “Hi! You must be my brother, Liam, right?” Liam’s face soured, and he tried to yank his hand away. But I clung to it like a lifeline, letting him pull me into his chest rather than let go. His expression grew even darker. “Yes,” he bit out through clenched teeth. My smile only widened. “Bro, you have to have a rich pre-med friend from an Ivy League school, right?” To get into a top medical program, I would do anything. I didn’t care if my brother was biased. I needed to get in. The entire hall fell silent. Liam’s face was a thundercloud. He squeezed my hand hard, pushed me to the ground, and loomed over me. “You just got here and you’re already causing trouble. I’m warning you, drop the sleazy social climbing act.” Isabelle quickly suppressed a smirk, tapping her designer leather shoes anxiously. “Liam, how could you push her? It’s all my fault. Seeing me obviously makes her uncomfortable. Blame me, don’t be angry with her!” I blew on my scraped palm, flicking away a small piece of gravel embedded in the skin, and looked up at him. “You know, after that little push, I could say I’m dizzy, nauseous, and my limbs feel weak. Then I could stand up, spin around a few times, and collapse. I could probably sue you for a condo, you know that?” My mother rushed over to help me up, but her eyes were fixed on Isabelle. “Isabelle, honey, don’t overthink it. It has nothing to do with you. You’re Mommy’s good girl. If anyone says otherwise, I’ll rip their tongue out!” Then she shot a glare at Liam. “Why would you push your sister? Honestly, you’re all brawn and no brain! Go to the backyard and pull weeds. No dinner until you’re finished!” Liam’s eyes flickered with a hint of regret as he saw the blood beading on my hand. But at the mention of weeding, his face hardened, a vein throbbing in his forehead. “What? I barely touched her! Who knows if she’s…” Isabelle immediately stepped in front of him and took my hand in a gesture of faux intimacy. “Sister, it’s okay, Liam didn’t mean it. Let me blow on it, it’ll feel better…” I calmly pulled my hand away. “No thanks. Your spit would be more effective. At least saliva has some antibacterial properties. Your breath isn’t exactly magical, and frankly, I find it a little gross.” As a med student, my precision was impeccable. I mentally gave myself an A+. The concern on Isabelle’s face froze, and she was left speechless. Then, a thought struck me. I frowned at her. “By the way, you don’t have tuberculosis, do you? Mycobacterium tuberculosis can be transmitted through respiratory droplets.” I took a deep breath and forced a warm, sunny smile at Liam. “But hey, we’re family, right? Of course I don’t blame you… bro.” The last word hit him like a physical blow. His face flushed a deep red. He let out a sharp scoff, turned on his heel, and stalked off toward the backyard. 2 The dinner spread was magnificent. But I was so hungry I was seeing stars, and I still hadn’t had a single bite. “Isabelle is so sweet. She won’t eat because she’s worried about her brother still weeding the garden,” my mother cooed. “Honey, just start without him,” my father added. “We can’t have our baby girl starving! That brother of yours made a mistake, he deserves to be punished.” Isabelle smiled shyly, her cheeks blushing. “It’s okay, Mom and Dad, I can wait. Let’s all eat together when Liam gets back. He’d be so sad if he came back to a table of leftovers.” She shot me a triumphant glance, then leaned in conspiratorially, her voice dripping with pity. “Sister, what happened this afternoon was Liam’s fault. I apologize on his behalf. Can you please forgive him and let him come eat?” My blood sugar was already dangerously low. It had started with tingling in my hands and feet, then blurry vision, and now a ringing in my ears. I was so deep in my own world I couldn’t process any external information. My breathing grew shallow. I started talking to myself. “The body burns carbohydrates first for energy, then fat, then protein. I think I’m about to hit stage two.” My mother, who was also worried about her son but too proud to admit it, seized the opportunity to lecture me. “Ava, I know your brother was also in the wrong this afternoon, but you’re siblings. You can’t be so petty. Look at your sister, she’s so much more mature. I know you’ve had a hard life, and I understand, but that’s not Isabelle’s fault…” Finally, my brain performed a forced shutdown. A wave of dizziness washed over me, and I slumped sideways. As I fell, my hand conveniently knocked a bowl of lukewarm curry soup all over Isabelle. The unappetizing yellow liquid stained her limited-edition dress in ugly blotches. Her face turned green. “My new dress!” she shrieked. Liam had just walked in the door and saw me slide off the chair like a limp noodle. He sprinted over and caught me just before I hit the floor. He heard the shriek and instinctively looked up, only to see Isabelle recoiling from me in disgust, her brow furrowed as she stared down at her ruined dress. Sensing Liam’s gaze, she belatedly snapped back to reality, her face paling. “Liam… is Ava okay? The soup just burned me a little, but I’m fine, she’s more important!” Ignoring the mess on her clothes, she rushed over as if to help me. Liam’s flicker of suspicion vanished. He gave a distracted nod and lifted me into his arms, carrying me to my bedroom. My parents, startled by the sudden turn of events, followed anxiously upstairs. The dining room fell silent, leaving Isabelle alone, her fists clenched in rage, her beautiful, pitiful face twisted with resentment. When I woke up, I wasn’t staring at the moldy ceiling of the orphanage or the cramped walls of my dorm room. I was in a princess-style bedroom with a sparkling crystal chandelier. A teasing voice sounded from my side. “You’re awake?” “So, I hear you were asking for me.” 3 I turned my head. A man about my brother’s age was standing there, wearing a white lab coat. A jolt went through me. I shot up in bed. “Whoa, easy there! Don’t get too excited. I know I’m devastatingly handsome, but please, try to contain yourself.” “Did you graduate from King’s College of Medicine?” I asked, kneeling on the edge of the bed and staring at him with manic intensity. Miles Kent was silent for a moment, then looked up at the ceiling as if asking for divine intervention. “Can you please not call it that? It’s one of the top medical schools in the country.” The confirmation sent another jolt of excitement through me. “So, about my application…” Before I could finish, the door burst open. It was Isabelle, her voice edged with urgency. “Miles, you’re here!” She turned to me. “Ava, come down for dinner. Mom and Dad had the cook make a whole new meal. I wasn’t trying to be difficult earlier, I just wanted to wait for Liam…” Her eyes reddened as if she’d been deeply wronged. I tasted something sweet in my mouth—the glucose Miles must have given me—and gave a distracted nod. At the dinner table, a medium-rare steak was placed before each of us, flanked by a neat arrangement of knives and forks. Isabelle was exceptionally attentive, constantly refilling our parents’ glasses, earning their praise for being so filial. After sitting down, she gave a subtle smirk and looked at me with feigned concern. “Sister, why aren’t you eating? I had the chef make this steak especially for you. It’s perfect!” She gracefully cut a small piece with her knife and fork, but didn’t eat it. “Oh, sister, I’m so sorry. You probably don’t know how to use a knife and fork, do you? I can help you.” At her words, all eyes turned to me. One of the maids let out a small, derisive snort. My father’s face was stone, his eyes filled with disgust. I calmly pressed her hand down. “No need.” Was she kidding me? I aced my anatomy practical. I could isolate any nerve in the musculature of a cadaver on command. This little piece of beef was nothing. In seconds, it was cut into perfectly uniform cubes, neatly arranged on my plate. Isabelle’s nails dug into her palms, her smile strained. The rest of the meal was tasteless. My parents and Miles chatted amiably. I leaned closer to Isabelle. “Do you know what part of the cow this tenderloin comes from?” I whispered. “My guess is it’s equivalent to the psoas major in a human. Originating from the transverse processes and lateral aspects of the vertebral bodies from T12 to L5, extending down through the pelvis to insert on the lesser trochanter of the femur.” I continued, lightly tracing a line along her slender waist. “What do you think would happen if someone were to, say, stick a knife in right here?” Isabelle’s entire body went rigid. She started to tremble. When she didn’t respond, I kept going. “The books say this is a deep muscle group. If the person holding the knife had an unsteady hand, which nerve would they likely damage? Oh, right. The lumbar plexus.” The color drained from Isabelle’s face. She shot to her feet. Realizing her overreaction, she forced a stiff smile. “I’m… I’m full. I’m going to head up.” Everyone at the table stared. I spoke up, my voice light. “Where is she going? The guest hasn’t even finished eating. Don’t you think you spoil her a little too much, Mom and Dad?” My mother gave an awkward laugh, at a loss for words. My brother just kept his head down, lost in thought. After dinner, I went straight to my room. I’d heard the application review didn’t have a written test, but the professors would ask questions on the spot. I needed to review all the key concepts in internal medicine and surgery before the interview. 4 After my little scare tactic, I thought Isabelle might back off for a few days. I had no idea she was about to go completely off the rails. I was oblivious to her careful plotting. The application system allowed for three choices. I only submitted one: King’s College. All or nothing. This was it. “Hi, Miles. It’s Ava. So, I’ve been having some recurrent tonsillitis. On examination: T 36.2, P 78, R 16… apical impulse is located in the fifth left intercostal space at the midclavicular line…” Miles sounded annoyed. “Just send me a picture of the case study.” “Okay, Miles!” My relentless academic questioning finally wore him down. He offered to take me out to dinner. As I was leaving, I ran into Isabelle. She was dressed to the nines, looking stunning, clearly on her way to meet someone. “Oh, are you going out too, sister? Be careful on the road. It would be a shame if something happened to you. Mom and Dad would be so sad, I think.” Her words struck me as odd. My gaze fell to her exposed back. “You know, you have an issue with your back.” “Your scapulae are protruding. The medical term is winged scapula.” Isabelle, furious, slammed her purse against her leg and stormed out to her car, her usually sweet voice stiff with anger. “Sorry, sister, I’m in a hurry. You’ll just have to let me go first. Didn’t Mom and Dad tell you to take care of me?” I rolled my eyes and headed for the subway station. As I passed through a narrow alley, a sudden sense of unease washed over me. Suddenly, a sharp blow struck the back of my neck. He missed his mark. But I didn’t want a second hit, so I let my eyes roll back and went limp, collapsing to the ground. Several pairs of hands stuffed me into a burlap sack and threw me into the trunk of a car. I opened my eyes, turned on my phone’s video recorder from inside the sack, and sent a quick text to Miles. “I’ve been kidnapped. You’ll have to eat dinner alone.” Miles: ? “The assailant was an amateur,” I typed. “He was probably aiming for my carotid sinus to induce syncope, but he hit my cervical spine instead. The carotid sinus, as you know, is located on both sides of the neck and contains a high concentration of baroreceptors. Impressive, right? Even under duress, my foundational knowledge is solid.” I heard the trunk open and quickly put my phone away. They pulled me out of the sack and threw me on the ground. A cloyingly sweet perfume filled the air. It was familiar. It was Isabelle’s. “Okay, untie her, then tie me up. And then you need to cut me,” Isabelle’s delicate voice instructed from above. As soon as the ropes were off, I discreetly angled my phone’s camera towards her. She was just as ruthless as her mother, the nanny who had switched us at birth. The bodyguard hesitated, unwilling to cut the now-bound Isabelle. “Useless!” she hissed. “If you don’t cut me, how am I supposed to frame that bitch Ava? The more pathetic I look, the more Mom, Dad, and Liam will pity me, and the more they’ll hate her!” When the bodyguard still didn’t move, she got up and stumbled into the knife herself. “…Ouch. Okay, Mom and Dad should be here soon. You can go now. I’ll wire you the money, every last cent.” Not long after the bodyguards left, my parents and Liam rushed in. “Isabelle! Oh, Isabelle, please be okay! If anything happens to you, what will I do?” my mother wailed. “Don’t be afraid, sweetie, Dad’s here to save you! Ava! Get out here!” I chose that moment to let out a faint groan, giving them a clue to my location. Isabelle was trembling, tied up, tears streaming down her face like a tragic heroine. “No… sister, please let me go. I’ll never try to compete with you for Mom and Dad’s love again. I’ll leave the family right now, I’ll get out of your sight, just please don’t kill me…” My mother saw her pitiful state and the blood, and all the color drained from her face. She lunged forward. “Isabelle! Mommy’s here! Are you okay? Oh my god, the blood…” My father aimed a kick at me. I dodged to the side. Missing me only made him angrier. “You monster! You psycho! How could you do this to your own sister? I should never have brought a venomous snake like you into this house!” I pulled out my phone, opened the video, and held it out for them to see. “Watch for yourselves. It’s not like you’d believe anything I say anyway.”

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At my mother’s funeral, my ex-husband’s girlfriend stormed in with a team of bodyguards and started wrecking the place. She thought I was his mistress. Priceless heirlooms and artworks, meant to honor my mother, were ripped to shreds and scattered across the floor. When I rushed forward to explain, she grabbed a fistful of my hair. “A homewrecker has a mother? Aren’t you all just things born but never raised right?” she shrieked. “For all I know, that’s just a jar of flour you’re using to scam my fiancé out of his money!” “Today, I’m going to expose you for the gold-digging parasite you are and ruin you completely!” A cold smile touched my lips. A homewrecker? It seemed she had no idea who the real other woman was. 1 After hours of managing the funeral, I finally found a moment to rest and check my phone. A “people you may know” notification popped up. I clicked on it. The woman was live-streaming, and she looked vaguely familiar. She was weeping about being tormented by her partner’s mistress, rallying a whole army of online supporters. The comments were a torrent of fury. It took me a moment to place her. Wasn’t that my ex-husband’s mistress, Amber? No wonder he didn’t have time to play the part of a supportive friend at my mother’s funeral. He was too busy putting out fires in his own backyard. Amber’s voice was thick with tears. “Everyone, that viper has sucked my fiancé dry of over a million dollars in just one month! We had to postpone our wedding because of her!” “And she had the nerve to send me the bills to flaunt it! I hired a private investigator to find her, and if I don’t teach her a lesson today, I’ll have lived for nothing!” “A homewrecker with a dead mother? And she has the gall to hold a funeral now? Her mom’s been dead for years, and she’s just now using it as an excuse to grift for cash? I’ve never seen a woman so shameless!” A million dollars in a month? I had to hand it to him. A leopard can’t change its spots. The man Amber had stolen was now being stolen from her in the exact same way. I clicked out of her live stream and scrolled through her old videos. They were a curated fantasy of high-end restaurants and luxury gifts. My ex had certainly spared no expense on her. She may have been cheated on now, but she’d profited handsomely before. Too bad a man’s affection is always in flux. Now, she was just like I had been when I first discovered Neil’s infidelity—desperate and broken. I glanced at the time. The interment was about to begin. I put my phone away and went back to the guests. I had just finished my words of thanks when a commotion erupted outside. Before I could even ask what was happening, a powerful force shoved me to the ground. A phone on a tripod was thrust in my face before I could get up. Amber’s voice was shrill. “Here she is, everyone! The homewrecker who’s been clinging to my fiancé! A vile creature, born but never raised right. Look at this washed-up hag, still trying to seduce men!” “Homewreckers deserve to die! If you’re going to destroy someone else’s relationship, you’d better be prepared for the consequences!” I pushed myself up on one hand, my brow furrowed. “You’ve made a mistake. I’m divorced. You have the wrong person. This isn’t the place for this. If you leave now, I can pretend this never happened.” She let out a wild laugh. “Did you hear that, everyone? Not only is she a hag, she’s divorced second-hand goods! All talk and no shame!” She swung the camera around the room. “This is the fake funeral she’s using to scam us out of our wedding money! Over a million dollars! What, is her mother’s urn made of solid gold?” I struggled to my feet as the guests stared, their faces a mixture of shock and morbid curiosity. For the sake of the funeral, I lowered my voice, trying to de-escalate. “This is my mother’s funeral, and I am not your fiancé’s mistress. I’m warning you to leave now, and I will forget this ever happened.” Amber sneered and pulled out another phone, tapping open her photo gallery. She shoved the screen in my face. “Look closely. These are the transfer receipts from my fiancé to you! Over a million dollars! What do you have to say for yourself now?” “And this is the chat log where he told me your mother died a long time ago! How are you going to lie your way out of this one?” “He might be soft-hearted enough to fall for your act, but I’m not! Today, I’m going to teach you the lesson your long-dead mother never could!” I stared at the screenshots, my frown deepening. I couldn’t believe it. Neil’s affair had literally shocked my mother to death, and now he was turning his mistress on me to slander my name. So that’s why he’d refused to come today. Too busy at work. An important project came up. All lies. He was waiting for his mistress to show up and reclaim the money for him, keeping his own hands clean. He got to play the good guy while I took all the blame. He hadn’t even told her he’d been married. When we divorced, I was so hurt by his betrayal that I didn’t ask for a single cent in compensation out of respect for the years we’d shared. And now, he was trying to claw back the money that was rightfully mine. It wasn’t about the money. It was my reputation they were destroying. Seeing my stunned silence, Amber gloated. “What, nothing to say? We were supposed to get married next month, and you ruined everything! You’re not leaving here today until you give back the money!” She held the phone up to her live stream, showing off the screenshots. “See, everyone? Am I lying? Count the zeroes! And look at the date he said her mother died! Her ashes are probably moldy by now, and she’s holding a funeral to scam my fiancé!” Her voice grew more shrill with every word. My face hardened. I couldn’t let her continue this circus. But before I could speak, she lunged forward and slapped me hard across the face. “Give back the money, now! Or I’ll tear that seductive old face of yours to shreds!” 2 This was the city’s most prestigious hotel, and a crowd of onlookers had gathered, drawn by the commotion. Fed only Amber’s side of the story, they started pointing and shouting. “So that’s why the hotel couldn’t be booked out today! There’s a whole drama unfolding!” “You can hold a funeral retroactively? First I’ve heard of it. These homewreckers have no shame when it comes to money!” “She’s so young, couldn’t she find an honest job? If her mother knew she was destroying families, she’d roll over in her grave!” Amber lifted her chin, her face smug. She walked over to a table, picked up a glass of wine, and downed it in one gulp. The guests at that table immediately scrambled away. The whispers turned to malicious speculation, assuming I was a mistress caught by my husband, that I deserved everything I was getting. My voice was ice. “I suggest you stop before you go too far. If you want to know who the real mistress is, why don’t you just call Neil and ask?” At his name, a flash of fury lit her eyes. She grabbed another glass and hurled it at me. The wine soaked my custom-made dress, worth thousands. If I hadn’t dodged, the glass would have shattered against my head. I took a deep breath, fighting for control. She turned back to her livestream. “See, everyone? The nerve on these homewreckers is something else! The evidence is right in front of her, and she still won’t admit it! What do you expect from a divorced old hag? She’s got the constitution of a cockroach!” She spun back to me. “I’m calling hotel management! I want a refund! Give me back my fiancé’s money, or you’ll be paying it back from a prison cell!” “He felt sorry for you because your mother died young, and you used that to manipulate him, didn’t you? Well, I’m not falling for your sob story!” My face was flushed with rage. “A refund? You have no right to say anything about my mother’s funeral! Get out, now, or I’m calling the police!” If it wasn’t for his affair, my mother would still be alive! Paying for a dignified funeral was the very least he owed me. Amber’s eyes widened theatrically for her audience. “Did you hear that? The mistress is going to call the cops! Oh, I’m so scared! Let’s see who gets taken away when they find out this whole funeral is a sham!” She shot a look at the bodyguards behind her. “So, you’re not giving back the money? Fine. Then everything my fiancé paid for, I’m taking back. Smash it all!” In an instant, a dozen burly men tore through the hall. The guests screamed and scattered. I could only watch in horror as they overturned table after table, my heart splintering with each crash. Amber filmed my breakdown, her laughter growing more manic. My mother’s portrait was displayed at the front of the room. As a few of the men got close, I cried out, “Stop! That’s enough! You want money? I’ll give it to you! I’ll give you the million! Consider it a donation to a pack of rabid dogs!” The men ignored me. The scene was chaos. Two hotel employees rushed to protect the portrait and the urn, clutching them tight, their faces pale with terror. Amber just laughed. “Oh, you’re ready to admit you’re wrong now? Didn’t think about the consequences when you were sleeping with my man, did you? And you’ll give me the money? It’s his money to begin with! You have no shame!” “It’s too late for apologies! Smash everything! Don’t leave a single chopstick!” My vision turned red. I lunged for her, for the phone, but a bodyguard intercepted me, pinning my arms and lifting me off the ground. She covered her mouth, feigning shock for the camera. “Everyone, did you see that? The homewrecker tried to attack me! Is there no justice in this world?” “What should I do? She won’t return the money, and now she’s trying to assault me! I’m so scared!” She said she was scared, but she walked right up to me. She bent down, picked up an intact plate from the floor, and swung it at my face with all her might. The porcelain shattered on impact, slicing my cheek open. Blood began to well up. 3 She aimed the camera back at my face. “How’s that? Satisfying enough? This is what homewreckers deserve!” “Everyone, hit that like button, share this stream! Let every immoral woman out there see this! You destroy someone’s relationship, you end up destroyed!” The hall was a wasteland. Every emergency exit was crammed with terrified guests. The two employees clutching my mother’s urn and portrait stood frozen in the middle of the devastation. Amber spotted them. “Get the stuff they’re holding, too! It’s all fake anyway, what’s the point?” A raw, primal scream tore from my throat. “NO! Don’t you dare! Don’t touch that!” I threw all my strength into breaking free from the bodyguard’s hold and sprinted across the room. I swear I had never run so fast in my life. But it wasn’t fast enough. The bodyguards tackled the employees, who dropped to the ground, covering their heads. The urn and the portrait tumbled from their arms. In the face of violence, they chose their own safety. My mother had died from the shock of Neil’s affair, and now his mistress was here to desecrate her memory. Just as a bodyguard’s foot came down on the urn, I dove, shielding it with my own body. A split second later, a heavy boot slammed into my back. A wave of agony washed over me, so intense I thought my organs had ruptured. Tears stung my eyes, and the metallic taste of blood filled my throat. The bodyguard, who had been smashing objects but hadn’t hurt anyone yet, looked shocked at what he’d done. Amber strolled over, camera held high. I swallowed back the bile rising in my throat. “Stop this right now, or I swear you will regret it,” I bit out. “Do you have any idea what you’re doing? Are you insane? He’s just a man!” She shoved the phone in my face. “Look at her, everyone, still threatening me! Are all homewreckers this arrogant?” “You didn’t seem to think he was ‘just a man’ when you were taking his money! Oh, I’m so terrified! Should I get on my knees and beg for your forgiveness?” She paused, then bent down, her lips curling in a sneer. “You’re protecting that jar of flour like your life depends on it because you’re afraid of being exposed, aren’t you? What a performance. You should have been an actress.” She straightened up and slapped the stunned bodyguard on the back. “What are you waiting for? Smash what she’s holding! It’s just flour!” “Is this how you tricked my fiancé? He might be a fool, but I’m not!” The bodyguard, recovering his senses, stepped toward me. I clutched the urn to my chest, my grip like iron. He couldn’t pry it from my arms and looked to Amber for instruction. “If one of you can’t do it, then two of you get on it! My fiancé will cover any trouble! Whoever smashes that thing in her arms gets twenty thousand dollars!” At the mention of money, the other bodyguards’ eyes lit up with greed. “Someone, please, call the police!” I screamed, scrambling across the floor. “I’ll give you a hundred thousand!” A swarm of them descended on me. I rolled and kicked, a desperate, cornered animal. “Get off me! Get away! Don’t you touch my mother!” 4 Finally, the hotel security guards heard the commotion and came running. Amber was out of patience. “A whole group of you can’t handle one woman? Are you useless? You want to get paid or not?!” She spun around and screamed at the guards. “Stay back! Or I’ll call the police! Get away from me, or I’ll have my fiancé buy this hotel and fire every single one of you!” After her threat, I felt the bodyguards’ efforts intensify. The room was a minefield of broken furniture. There was nowhere to run. Someone grabbed my leg and dragged me across the floor, right in front of Amber. Her face was flushed, her makeup streaked. She shoved the camera at me and yelled at the men, “What are you doing, dragging her to me? Do you want me to do it myself?!” The security guards were closing in. She was panicked. She grabbed a large shard of a broken vase from the floor and brought it down on my back. The sharp edge tore through my dress and stabbed into my skin. Blood began to pool beneath me. I clenched my jaw, refusing to scream. My eyes burned with a furious, crimson hate. Neil. Amber. I will see you both in hell for this. The wine from earlier stung the open wound, an agony of salt and fire. Amber was still shouting. “Hurry up, smash the urn! Step on her shoulders! Pry her hands open!” As I struggled, more blood flowed from the wound. In the distance, one of the security guards was on the phone, calling the police. When Amber heard him, she lost what little sanity she had left. She sat down hard on my back, right on top of the wound. A scream of pure agony was ripped from my throat. With me pinned, the bodyguards finally wrenched the urn from my grasp. One of them lifted it high above his head and, with all his might, smashed it on the floor. As it shattered, all the fight went out of me. My world dissolved into a cloud of blinding, gray dust. Across the room, another bodyguard stomped on my mother’s portrait, cracking the glass and the frame. The men were a frenzied mob, fighting for their prize. Amber finally seemed to relax. She turned back to her livestream. “See that? That’s what happens to homewreckers,” she panted. “And I’m not just going to beat her. I’m going to make her pay back every single cent my fiancé spent on her.” “Let this be a warning to anyone who even thinks about looking at my man. Your end will be worse than hers.” Just then, the wail of sirens filled the air. Police officers stormed into the hall. Amber spoke first. “Officer, this woman scammed my fiancé out of over a million dollars! Arrest her immediately!” I gritted my teeth against the pain and screamed, my voice raw. “My ex-husband’s affair drove my mother to her death. Today, his mistress destroyed her funeral. I want them both to rot in jail!” “I funded his company! I want them to pay back ten times the cost of every single thing they destroyed here today!”

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