Author: Momo Chan

In my past life, I desperately tried to stop Lucas from donating his kidney to Chloe, the girl he worshipped. Because he couldn’t receive the transplant in time, Chloe passed away three days later. Lucas kept his kidney and eventually joined a prestigious NASA-affiliated aerospace program. He had a brilliant, limitless future ahead of him. But he hated me for the rest of his life. My parents told me I was cold-blooded. They said I murdered Chloe and ruined Lucas’s chance at a perfect life. Later, they ruined my college graduation opportunities and sabotaged my career. I ended up dying alone from an untreated illness in a damp, rented room. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day Lucas was about to sign the organ donation consent form. This time, I didn’t stop him. I just quietly turned on the voice recorder on my phone and asked calmly, “Lucas, do you confirm that you fully understand all the risks? And do you promise you won’t hold it against me in the future?” On the table in the transplant center’s meeting room sat a thick stack of files. The top page was the Living Organ Donor Informed Consent Form. My brother, Lucas, gripped a black pen, his knuckles turning white. In my past life, today was exactly the same. I had burst into the room and snatched the pen out of his hand. I had said, “Lucas, you can’t do this. You have your physical exam for the astronaut program next month. You’ve had high blood pressure and protein in your urine. The doctor said your risk is way higher than a normal person’s.” I had screamed until my throat was hoarse. And Lucas had hesitated. The surgery was eventually canceled. Chloe only lasted three days. After she died, I became the ultimate sinner of the family. Lucas’s career went incredibly smooth after that. But every time he got a promotion, every time he won an award, every time people praised him for being a young genius, he would stab me with his words: “If it wasn’t for you, Chloe would be alive to see this.” My parents were the same. They enjoyed the glory of Lucas’s health and success, yet they blamed Chloe’s death entirely on me. They took away my tuition money, forced me to give up my opportunities for Lucas, and sabotaged my job interviews and relationships. They said I owed Chloe a life. Until the day I died, they never picked up my last phone call. Now, I was back at the exact moment before Lucas put pen to paper. Seeing me walk in, my mother instantly blocked Lucas. “Hazel, I’m warning you. If you make a scene today, I will never forgive you.” My dad looked at me with a cold face. “Lucas is saving a life. It’s a good deed. Don’t embarrass yourself with your selfish little thoughts.” I almost laughed out loud. In my past life, when I stopped him, they had actually let out a sigh of relief. But after Chloe died, they didn’t want to admit they were terrified of their son getting hurt. So, they needed a villain. Lucas looked up at me. “Hazel, I know you don’t like Chloe, but she really can’t hold on much longer.” Chloe, pale and weak in her wheelchair, looked at me. “Hazel, please don’t blame Lucas. It’s my fault. I shouldn’t be a burden to him…” Lucas’s heart broke for her, just like I knew it would. “Chloe, don’t say that.” My mom started crying too. “Oh, sweetheart, don’t be scared. We won’t just stand by and watch you die.” Everyone was waiting for me to lose my mind. They expected me to cry, beg, and scream like I did in my past life, taking all the blame onto myself. But this time, I didn’t. I took my phone out of my bag. I tapped the record button. My dad frowned. “What are you recording?” “Just keeping a record.” I placed the phone flat on the table. “No faces, just audio. I want to make sure nobody says I forced Lucas to donate in the future. And I definitely don’t want anyone saying I ruined his life by not stopping him.” My mom’s face twisted. “What is that supposed to mean? We’re family. Do you have to make things so ugly?” In my past life, when I was burning up with a fever and drifting in and out of consciousness, I called home seventeen times. No one answered. Back then, why didn’t they care about being “family”? The doctor sitting at the table looked a bit awkward. “Miss Miller, the hospital keeps records of the pre-op interview. You don’t need to be so nervous.” “I’m not nervous,” I said. “I just want every adult here to be responsible for the words that come out of their mouths.” Lucas stared at me coldly. “You’re disgusting.” In the past, those words would have made me shake with hurt. Not anymore. I looked at the pen in his hand. “Before you sign, I have a few questions.”

Suppressing his anger, Lucas sat down. “Ask.” I picked up the risk disclosure form the doctor had handed over earlier. I read it out loud, line by line. “First, after a kidney is removed, the donor needs long-term follow-ups and must avoid high-stress, high-intensity work. Are you aware of this?” Lucas gritted his teeth. “Yes.” “Second, you have a history of mild hypertension and occasional protein in your urine. Although your current tests look fine, your surgical risk is still elevated. Are you aware of this?” The doctor nodded. “We have explained this. It’s not an absolute disqualification, but the donor must be fully informed.” Lucas’s voice dropped a bit. “Yes, I know.” “Third, you are scheduled for the NASA Astronaut Candidate physical exam next month. That selection has strict requirements for kidney function, medication use, and physical stamina. After this donation, you will likely fail the medical clearance. Are you aware of this?” The room fell dead silent. My mom panicked first. “But didn’t the doctor say people can live a normal life with just one kidney?” The doctor sighed. “Mrs. Miller, a normal life and a specialized military-grade physical exam are two entirely different things. We explained this before.” My mom froze. In my past life, it was this very sentence that made her hesitate. But later, she conveniently forgot all about it. Lucas gripped the pen tighter. “I know.” I kept going. “Fourth, the surgery carries risks of bleeding, infection, and rare but serious anesthesia complications. Are you aware of this?” “Yes.” “Fifth, even after a successful transplant, Chloe will need lifelong immunosuppressant therapy. It is not a permanent cure. Are you aware of this?” This time, I looked directly at Chloe. “You answer.” Her eyelashes fluttered. “I… I know.” “Sixth, do you confirm that you are accepting Lucas’s donation entirely of your own free will, without any coercion from him or pressure from the Miller family?” Tears immediately spilled from Chloe’s eyes. “Hazel, why are you asking me this? How could I ever…” “Answer the question.” My voice was completely flat. She froze. In the past, as long as she cried, I would instantly become the bitter, cruel sister in everyone’s eyes. But today, I wasn’t giving her that power. She had to answer. “I confirm. I am accepting it willingly.” I nodded, then turned to my parents. “And you two? You fully support Lucas’s donation, right?” My dad said coldly, “He’s my son. He’s doing a noble thing. Of course we support him.” My mom hesitated for a fraction of a second. But quickly, she wiped her tears. “Yes. As long as it saves Chloe, we support him.” I pulled three copies of a supplemental confirmation agreement from my bag. I slid the papers across the table. “Sign here.” My dad slammed his hand on the table. “Hazel! You actually prepared this? Are you here to help, or are you here to scheme against your own family?” I looked up at him. “I’m not here to help.” The room became silent as a grave. I said every word clearly: “I am only here to witness your choices.” Lucas let out a cold laugh. “Fine. I’ll sign.” He grabbed the pen and scribbled his name. The scratch of the pen on paper sounded like he was slicing open his own future. My dad signed too. My mom’s hand shook as she signed. When it was Chloe’s turn, her tears dripped onto the paper, smudging the ink. “Hazel, do you really have to push us this far?” I looked at her. “I didn’t push any of you.” I gathered the papers, took photos of them, uploaded them to my Google Drive, and emailed them to my backup account. “You all said you were doing this willingly.” Outside the door, my aunt Clara whispered to another relative, “She’s so cold-blooded. Her brother is saving a life, and she’s treating it like a business transaction.” I spun around to look at her. “Do you think donating an organ is that honorable?” She blinked, startled. “Of course it is.” “Well, your son is an adult too. Why don’t we get him tested to see if he’s a match?” Her face drained of color instantly. “What nonsense are you talking about?!” I smiled. “So it’s honorable when it’s someone else’s body, but it’s nonsense when it’s your own family. Your charity really knows how to choose its targets.” The hallway fell dead quiet. Lucas handed the consent forms to the doctor. “Doctor, please schedule the surgery.” He didn’t look at me again. “Hazel, as of today, I don’t have a sister anymore.” I nodded. “Fine.” I had heard that exact phrase too many times in my past life. This time, it didn’t feel like a punishment. It felt like freedom.

The surgery was scheduled for that afternoon. Before Chloe was wheeled into the operating room, she held Lucas’s hand tightly. “Lucas, if I survive this, I will owe you my life forever.” Lucas leaned down to wipe her tears. “Don’t be scared. You’re going to make it.” My mom was crying uncontrollably next to them. My dad patted Lucas’s shoulder, his eyes full of pride. “Lucas, I’ve never been prouder to call you my son.” I stood far away, near the exit. As the nurse was checking the charts, she asked casually, “Aren’t you going to say something to your brother?” Lucas cut in coldly, “No need.” The nurse gave me an awkward look. I said nothing. In my past life, I had said too much. I had screamed until I lost my voice, knelt on the floor, and begged. In the end, every single one of those actions was turned into proof of my cruelty. This time, I was as quiet as a wall. The operating room doors swung shut. My mom finally found the time to put me on trial. “Hazel, your behavior today is absolutely heartbreaking.” I kept my head down, organizing my bag. “Okay.” “Lucas is lying in there on an operating table, and you don’t care at all?” “My worrying won’t change his surgical outcome.” She choked on her words. My dad said in a deep, booming voice, “Lucas is sacrificing his entire future to save Chloe. As his sister, the least you could do is show some support instead of being so sarcastic.” I looked up. “I warned him about the risks to his career. You both said saving a life was more important.” My mom’s eyes welled with tears again. “Do you have to say things like that right now?” “Then what do you want me to say?” I looked her in the eye. “Do you want me to say you were right, so that when things go south later, you can blame me again?” Her face froze. My dad snapped. “How can you be so vicious? The surgery isn’t even over, and you’re already cursing Lucas?” I didn’t bother arguing. I pulled out my phone and messaged my academic advisor. I applied for an early return to campus. In my past life, after this day, I stayed at the hospital to help. I paid the bills, bought the food, picked up the lab reports, and stayed overnight. When Chloe woke up and Lucas recovered, they received all the credit. Meanwhile, because I missed too many classes, I missed the final presentation for my national law competition. Later, I lost my early-admission slot for grad school because of it. Back then, my dad had said, “You’re just a woman. Why do you need so much education anyway? Lucas’s career is what matters.” This time, I was not going to leave my life sitting at the door of their hospital room. Four hours later, the surgeon stepped out. “The surgery is complete. Everything went smoothly. The recipient is stable, but the donor will need close monitoring.” My family rushed forward immediately. “Thank God.” “Lucas is such a brave soul.” “Chloe is so blessed to have him.” In my past life, they had crowded around him just like this. Except back then, they were praising his promotions, his bonuses, and his bright future. And then they would add: “It’s a shame Chloe didn’t have the luck to live.” And finally, they would glare at me. “Hazel’s heart is made of stone.” My mom sat by Lucas’s bed, crying tears of pity. “Lucas, my poor baby, you’ve suffered so much.” The anesthesia hadn’t fully worn off, and his eyes were unfocused, but he was still asking, “Chloe… is she okay?” My dad’s eyes were wet. “Yes, she’s perfect. You saved her.” A slight smile appeared on Lucas’s face. It looked like he had finally received the gold medal he had always wanted. I placed a receipt on the bedside table. “This is the $3,700 I advanced. Make sure to Venmo me.” My mom snapped her head up. “Lucas just got out of surgery, and you’re asking us for money?” “It’s not Lucas’s money,” I said. “Chloe’s family didn’t have enough for the pre-op deposit, and you told me to put it on my card.” My dad’s face turned purple. “Are you really that desperate for three grand?” “Yes,” I looked at them. “My rent is due next month.” My mom stared at me as if I were a stranger. “You never used to be like this.” Used to be? I used to think that if I was just obedient enough, they would finally love me. But I finally realized they just didn’t think I deserved to be loved.

I picked up my bag. “I’m heading back to campus.” My mom panicked. “What about Lucas?” “He has his parents, his nurses, and Chloe’s eternal gratitude.” I stopped at the doorway. “I only have myself.” When I left the hospital, there was a food truck selling hot clam chowder downstairs. In my past life, I had bought countless meals here. Lucas would complain it was too bland, Chloe would say it was too hot, and my mom would yell at me for taking too long. This time, I bought a bowl just for myself. As the warm steam hit my face, tears almost came to my eyes. Not because I was sad. But because for the first time in two lifetimes, I had bought a warm meal just for myself. Chloe survived. Lucas became the ultimate romantic hero in our social circle. My mom posted on Instagram every single day. “My brave son gave a part of himself to bring another beautiful soul back to life.” The post had hundreds of likes. Someone commented: “Where is Hazel? Lucas did such an incredible thing, she must be so proud.” My mom replied: “She’s still young and selfish. She doesn’t understand.” I saw it. I didn’t comment. I was too busy preparing my final presentation for the law competition. Three days after returning, I packed up and moved out of my tiny bedroom at my parents’ house. In my past life, that room was eventually turned into Lucas’s home office. My things had been tossed into cardboard boxes and shoved onto the balcony. My mom had said, “Lucas is under so much pressure. He needs a quiet study. You’re a girl, you can crash anywhere.” This time, I didn’t wait for them to kick me out. I left on my own. The apartment I rented was tiny. Downstairs was a noisy night market, and the smell of greasy food drifted through my window every evening. But the lock on the door was mine. The light was mine. The yogurt in the fridge was mine. No one was banging on my door at midnight demanding I make Lucas ramen. No one was rifling through my drawers to steal my cash to buy Chloe organic supplements. I had never felt so safe. Two weeks later, Lucas was discharged. Chloe was moved to a general ward. Our family threw a small welcome-back party. But I didn’t go. My mom called me, her voice dripping with irritation. “Lucas is finally taking his first steps out of bed today. You’re not even going to come see him?” I kept my eyes on the legal essay on my laptop screen. “I’m busy.” “What could possibly be more important than your brother?” In my past life, this question had trapped me for years. This time, my answer was instant. “My life.” The line went silent for a few seconds. My mom’s voice turned icy. “Hazel, don’t you dare regret this. If you act like this now, don’t expect this family to help you when you’re struggling.” I smiled. “Sounds great. Good practice for the future.” She hung up in a rage. That night, I got a text from Lucas. It was just one sentence: “Chloe said she’s going to spend the rest of her life by my side.” I stared at the screen for a long time. In my past life, after Chloe died, Lucas had said something similar at her grave. He had said, “I will never love anyone else for the rest of my life.” He never got married. And everyone blamed his loneliness on me. But in this life, Chloe was alive. Would she really stay by his side forever? Three months later, the decision everyone had praised so highly began to unravel from the inside out.

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After our divorce, I moved thirty-three times. To win me back, my ex-husband slit his wrists, jumped into a river, swallowed sleeping pills, and even slit his throat right in front of me. In the end, I gave in. We got remarried. For the past three years, he seemed like a changed man. He changed all his passwords to my birthday. He handed over his paychecks. He shared his real-time location with me twenty-four hours a day, taking meticulous care of me and our daughter. Until late last night, when I glanced at his iPad and noticed he had forgotten to log out of his burner Snapchat account. A message from Chloe popped up: “Did you still not touch her tonight? Ugh, I missed out on another live show.” He replied almost instantly: “I haven’t touched her since she got pregnant.” “Stop watching the security feed and go to sleep. If you stay up late again, you’ll feel terrible tomorrow.” It turned out the camera in our bedroom was never meant for monitoring our baby. It was to prove his “innocence” to her. This time, I will not let him drag me down again.

From the bedroom, I could hear Ethan’s soft, patient voice singing a lullaby to our daughter, Lily. But I felt ice cold. The thought of me breastfeeding Lily in that room every day, completely exposed and off-guard, while the person I hated most watched the entire thing… It made me want to throw up. Hearing me gasp, Ethan rushed out of the room. “What’s wrong? Are you feeling sick again?” He frowned, concern written all over his face. I calmly locked the iPad screen. “My stomach hurts a bit. Can you get me a glass of water?” He did so immediately, carefully holding the glass to my lips. “Better?” When I didn’t answer, he gently touched my cheek, then my forehead. “Still feeling bad? Do you want to go to the hospital?” I looked into his eyes, searching for the warmth that now felt so fake. I spoke softly. “Ethan, are you still in touch with Chloe?” His eyes flickered. “Of course not. We haven’t spoken in years. Why would you ask that?” Seeing my silence, his eyes welled up with tears. He dropped to his knees, his voice cracking with desperation. “I promised you I’d cut her off, and I meant it. Clara, please don’t leave me again.” “Did I do something wrong? Did I make you doubt me?” I dug my nails into my palms, fighting back the tremors racking my body. I forced a tiny smile. “It’s nothing. I just suddenly thought of the past.” He let out a long sigh of relief, taking my hand and pulling me back toward the bedroom. “You always overthink when you can’t sleep,” he teased gently. We lay down, and he reached out to pull me into his arms, as he always did. My body reacted before my brain could. I flinched away, turning my back to him. “It’s too hot.” He paused for a second, then picked up the remote and lowered the AC by two degrees. “Clara, I’ve changed. You can’t keep punishing me based on baseless suspicions.” I said nothing. A long time passed. He probably thought I had fallen asleep. In the darkness, the glow of a phone screen lit up. The sound of fast typing was incredibly sharp in the quiet room. It was quick, accompanied by a faint, amused chuckle under his breath. I couldn’t sleep. Tears slipped silently down my cheeks, soaking the pillow. I stayed awake all night. The next morning, before he left for work, he kissed my forehead. “Don’t let your mind wander while you’re home alone. Call me immediately if you feel sick.” The moment the front door clicked shut, I bolted to the bathroom and threw up. A few minutes later. I turned on the faucet, washing the sour taste from my mouth. Walking back to the living room, I opened the iPad. The chat logs between him and Chloe showed a level of intimacy that proved they had never actually stopped talking. It was just like three years ago, when I caught them pressed against the floor-to-ceiling window of a hotel room, completely tangled up in each other. I bit my tongue hard, forcing my eyes open to read every single word. I watched as the man who refused to touch me after I got pregnant under the guise of “safety” discussed buying kinky sex toys with Chloe. I watched as the man who refused to let me accompany him on business trips because he “didn’t want to get distracted” took Chloe to out-of-town conferences, treating her to luxurious vacations. When Chloe asked him, “Who do you like better, Clara or me?” he replied instantly: “Her body is ruined after the pregnancy. She doesn’t compare to you.” Just one sentence. It completely destroyed me, the woman who had let her guard down to remarry him and bear his child. I was nailed to a cross of absolute humiliation. My tears splashed onto the screen, blurring the words. I opened my phone, pulled back my resignation letter, and submitted an application for an overseas transfer. My manager, Marcus, called me almost immediately. “Clara, I’m thrilled you want to come back. But a transfer to New York? Are you sure?” “This is a highly confidential project. Even though you can bring your family, you won’t be allowed to have any contact with the outside world for at least three years.” I gently stroked Lily’s sleeping face. “I’m sure.” This time, I would take my baby and disappear. Ethan would never find me. Just as I hung up, another message from Chloe popped up on Ethan’s iPad. “Ethan, you promised me. Once Clara gives birth to our baby, you’ll divorce her. When is that happening?” “Lily isn’t weaned yet. We have to wait until she’s at least two.” “Then promise me you won’t touch Clara again. Now that the baby is here, she’s off-limits.” My hands and feet went completely numb as I stared at the screen. So, the only reason he begged me to remarry him was because Chloe wanted a baby. But she was terrified of the pain, and she didn’t want stretch marks. So he suggested that I should be the one to carry it. “Clara is family, we can trust her. Once the baby is born, I’ll divorce her and take full custody.” I suddenly burst out laughing. But as I laughed, my throat felt like it was being choked.

For the past three years, everyone said Ethan loved me to death. He would drive four hours in the middle of the night just to get me the specific cinnamon rolls I suddenly craved. When I ran a high fever, he didn’t sleep for three days and three nights. Once my fever broke, he collapsed from exhaustion. During my pregnancy, when my legs cramped, he massaged them every single night before bed, only sneaking out to the living room to put ice packs on his sore hands after I fell asleep. It turned out all this devotion was just the compensation he paid me for being his surrogate. How pathetic. I had actually felt so bad for him balancing work and taking care of us that I planned to resign and become a full-time stay-at-home mom. As I sat in a daze, another notification chimed. “I saw you gave her a necklace in the bedroom the other day. Didn’t you say you bought that for me?” “If you want it, I’ll buy you another one.” She seemed to get upset. “That’s not the point! Why did you give her something you promised me?” “And last time, you said you’d watch a movie with me, but you stood me up because her breasts were engorged. You ran across the city to find her a lactation consultant. I waited until the movie ended, and you never showed.” “Are you being too nice to her?” He remained silent for a long time before replying. “Chloe, she is still your sister, not your enemy. We did her wrong. I’m just trying to make up for it.” Reading his words, I only felt a deep sense of irony. Chloe was supposed to be my closest family. Our parents passed away early, and I had taken on the burden of raising her from a very young age, which made me mature and reserved. Ethan used to say he loved my quiet elegance, but after meeting Chloe, he changed his tune, saying girls should be lively and free-spirited. I wasn’t blind to his special treatment of her. But when I asked him to keep his distance from my sister, he only laughed and ruffled my hair. He told me not to be petty, asking why I was jealous of my own sister. The things that followed were so dramatic that I hadn’t let myself think about them for a long time. They got closer and closer, eventually sharing the same straw. When we first got married, he even chose a wedding ring style that she liked. On our first anniversary, I walked in on them wrapped around each other. Chloe only stared back at me with a mocking look in her eyes. When I screamed and demanded to know why, her voice was quiet and cold: “You’re my sister. You’re supposed to share everything with me.” And Ethan? He shielded her behind his back, remaining completely silent. I couldn’t handle being betrayed by the two most important people in my life. I divorced him and blocked them both. I thought we would never cross paths again. But he went to such extreme lengths to get me back that my heart softened. Thinking about it now, I laughed like a fool, my tears falling uncontrollably. I was so stupid. Stupid enough to believe he had repented. Stupid enough to believe he actually cared. But once you peeled back the mask, the core was completely rotten. Thankfully, there was still time. After deciding to leave, I began clearing out my things. This house was decorated according to my taste. I chose most of the furniture. Ethan had said he wanted me to feel comfortable, to feel happy the moment I opened my eyes and came home. I chose the dusty blue curtains. I sat on dozens of sofas before choosing this one. The paintings on the wall, I had only glanced at them once, and he immediately bought them. Now that I thought about it, this wasn’t a home. It was a golden cage tailored specifically for me. The things I once loved now made me sick to look at. I stuffed them all into black trash bags. After clearing the clutter, I pulled out my suitcase and packed only the essentials. Ethan walked in, his brow furrowing as he looked around. “Why does the house look so empty?” I didn’t look up, continuing to pack. “Just getting rid of old things. I’m planning to buy some new stuff.” “As long as it makes you happy. Let me know if you need money.” His eyes drifted to my empty vanity. “I’m going on a business trip in a few days. Do you want me to bring you anything from the duty-free shop?” “No, thank you.” “Didn’t you say you wanted that designer face cream last time?” I gently patted Lily’s back to soothe her to sleep, my voice flat. “I don’t really want it anymore.” The things, the people, I didn’t want any of it anymore.

Before the overseas transfer, accompanying family members also needed a physical exam. After taking Lily for her checkup, I was waiting for the results when I saw Ethan and Chloe standing near the fever clinic. She was speaking in a whiny, nasal voice. “It’s all your fault. You kept the car AC so high yesterday, and now I have a fever.” He pinched her nose playfully. “Who was the one begging to do it in the car? Take this as a lesson. Don’t do it again.” The loudspeaker called his name, and his phone rang at the same time, so he didn’t go in with her. He hung up, turned around, and saw me standing there quietly. The moment our eyes met, he froze. Then, he quickly walked over. “Clara? What are you doing here? Is Lily sick?” He reached out to touch Lily’s face, but I took a step back, my voice calm and even. “Company physicals. I brought Lily along.” “Oh,” he glanced toward the clinic room, offering an unprompted explanation. “A client of mine got sick. I came to accompany them.” I didn’t ask what kind of client was so important that the CEO himself had to accompany them to a fever clinic. “I’m heading home first.” Before he could answer, I turned and walked away without looking back. I didn’t see the complicated look in his eyes behind me. That evening, he came home much earlier than usual. I was sitting in the living room watching TV, ignoring him. He walked over, holding a cake box. “Clara, didn’t you say you wanted to try the cake from this bakery? I took a detour after work to get it for you.” I glanced at the logo. I didn’t recognize the brand. But I had seen it on Chloe’s Instagram page a couple of days ago. The bakery was in the suburbs, miles away from his office. I smiled faintly. When you play with fire, you’re bound to get burned eventually. Seeing me smile, he thought I was happy. “Go ahead, try it.” He handed me a spoon. I didn’t take it, my smile vanishing. “Ethan, I never said I wanted to eat this.” He froze. I rarely called him by his first name. “I… I must have misremembered,” his breathing turned shallow, and he leaned in to kiss me. “Don’t be mad. Tell me what you want, and I’ll go buy it right now.” I pulled away. “Ethan, let’s get a divorce.” The color drained from his face. “Just because of a cake?” I didn’t feel like making up an excuse. I stood up. “Sure. Let’s go with that.” “Where would you even go if we divorced?” Seeing me walk toward the bedroom, he snapped, his words turning sharp and desperate. “Who would want a divorced woman with a kid?” My footsteps halted. The air in the room grew suffocatingly quiet. “I didn’t mean that…” his voice panicked. “I just… I can’t accept you wanting a divorce.” His eyes darted to the fruit knife on the table. He grabbed it, pressing the blade against his wrist. “You know how hard it was for me to get you back. You can’t break your promise.” I stared at his bloodshot eyes. I wanted to tell him that he was the one who broke his promise. But I realized it was pointless. In the silence, the blade pierced his skin, and bright red blood began to ooze out. This old trick might have made my heart ache in the past. But now, I felt nothing but numbness. Since a mutual divorce agreement was out of the question, I would have to take him to court. I took a deep breath and forced a relaxed smile. “I was just kidding. I was just a little upset because I saw you with another woman at the hospital today.” “I told you, she was just a client,” he let out a huge sigh of relief, dropping the knife. “What’s wrong with you lately? You’re always overthinking.” “Probably just postpartum mood swings,” I said quietly, turning to walk into the guest bedroom. “Lily and I will sleep in here for a while. I need some space to clear my head.” I didn’t push further, and he didn’t say another word. Over the next few days, we tacitly avoided the topic, both of us busy with our own things. He was busy preparing for his business trip, and I was busy preparing to disappear. Before he left, he slid a heavy gold bracelet onto my wrist. “Wait for me to get back. I have something important to tell you.” It was a Vance family heirloom. I had seen it in his family’s vault registry in his study. He had never offered it to me before, and I didn’t know why he was giving it to me now. But I didn’t care. On my phone, Chloe’s Instagram was updating constantly. Her latest post was a photo of the sunset over the Seine. In the corner of the frame sat a half-empty coffee cup, and the edge of a sleeve was visible. The agate cufflink on the sleeve was the birthday gift I had given Ethan last year. Her caption read: “Twilight in Paris is so long, perfect for two people to walk slowly. I never want this business trip with you to end.” The posts before that were just as lively. One day she was taking a selfie with a crepe in front of the Louvre, the next she was posing under the Eiffel Tower at night. He made frequent appearances in her photos, tying her shoelaces, holding an umbrella for her. I screenshotted every single one of them. Chloe seemed very happy. No one would ever guess that she was actually an abandoned baby left near a bridge. My parents had adopted her and kept the secret until the day they died. I wondered how she would react when she finally found out the truth about her birth. On the day of my flight to New York, I left a thick folder and a signed divorce agreement on the coffee table. Next to them sat the heirloom bracelet and my wedding ring. I left a note: “I am taking an overseas transfer for at least three years. Review the agreement. If you agree, sign it and mail it to my company’s legal department. If not, we will proceed with a contested divorce after two years of separation.”

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When I was chasing Victor, the cold and penniless campus heartthrob, I didn’t just cover his tuition. I even paid for his mother’s life-saving surgery. With nothing but raw passion and my family’s deep pockets, I finally won him over. I thought marriage would be my happily ever after. But Victor never loved me. Not for a single second. During our years of marriage, he wore a mask. Secretly, he loathed me, believing I was a wicked woman who used money to humiliate him. So, on the day I went into labor, which happened to be the wedding day of his first love, Vivian… In utter despair, he refused to sign the C-section consent form, leaving me and our unborn twins to die on the operating table. When I opened my eyes again, I was back in college. This time, I immediately donated the money to the school’s financial aid fund instead. Ignoring Victor’s shocked stare, I smiled and accepted the proposal of a wealthy heir who actually matched my status. “A power couple,” I said. “We were always meant to be.”

“Victor, if you’re struggling, you can apply for a tuition waiver.” “No need, Mr. Harrison. Alice will pay it for him.” I opened my eyes abruptly. I wasn’t on that blood-stained hospital bed anymore. I was sitting in a university classroom. Right now, our professor, Mr. Harrison, was trying to convince Victor to apply for financial aid. My classmates were smirking, expecting me to jump in and pay Victor’s tuition like I always did. I pinched myself. The sharp pain told me everything. I had been reborn, back to fifteen years ago. Back then, I was Victor’s ultimate simp. I followed the cold campus heartthrob everywhere, throwing money at him. Not only did I cover his tuition and fees, but I even begged my parents to get the city’s top surgeons for his sick mother. In my past life, I was helplessly infatuated with him. I gave him my heart and my wealth, but all I got in return was his cold shoulder. Yet, after ten years of my relentless chasing, he finally agreed to date me. I thought my love had finally melted his icy heart. In reality, he only did it because Vivian was injured and desperately needed money for surgery. Once I found out, I cried my eyes out and tried to let him go. But his eyes went red. “Alice, don’t leave me.” He promised over and over that we would build a real life together. He started treating me like a queen. Stupidly, I forgave him. Later, Victor took over my family’s business. I stepped back to focus on our home and soon got pregnant. But the day Vivian’s wedding invitation arrived, my beautiful dream shattered into a million pieces. When I had a difficult labor, Victor refused to sign the C-section consent form. As I was dying of pain on the delivery table, Victor leaned down, his eyes bloodshot, and whispered in my ear: “This is your punishment, Alice.” “If you hadn’t used your money to force me, threatening me with Vivian’s life and my mother’s medical bills, Vivian and I would never have broken up.” “Just die. Once you’re gone, I’ll inherit the Bowman family fortune and be with Vivian.” “Consider this your compensation to us!” The labor went on too long. My twins suffocated inside me, and I drew my last breath in agony. Three lives gone, just like that. I paid with my life to learn a lesson: some things can never be forced. Recalling my horrific death, I pulled back my hand just as I was about to hand over my credit card. I looked up at Victor, who was standing tall and proud. He still had that arrogant, aloof expression, rejecting Mr. Harrison’s suggestion to apply for financial aid.

The classroom started whispering. “Alice has spent so much on Victor anyway. What’s a little tuition?” I let out a cold, mocking laugh. Suddenly, Victor yelled: “I may be poor, but I have pride! I’d rather drop out of school than accept Alice’s charity!” He strutted over to my desk, chest puffed out. “Stop trying to bind me with your money. I wouldn’t be with you even if I were begging on the streets!” Hearing this, it hit me. Victor had been reborn too. In our past life, he would only frown and look reluctant, but he still accepted my money. This time, he was rejecting me outright. Great! What a man of steel! I turned around and handed a thick stack of cash to Mr. Harrison. “Mr. Harrison, since the school helps students in need, I’d like to donate this money directly to the university’s scholarship fund.” “I hope it goes to students who actually need it.” Mr. Harrison froze. Victor froze too. “Alice? Did I hear you right? Isn’t this money for Victor?” I nodded. I looked at Victor and caught the shock and humiliation written all over his face. Seeing the rich girl who used to chase him suddenly stop his allowance made his fragile ego crumble. He sneered, “Alice, stop playing hard to get. I said I won’t take your money.” “Unless you promise not to force me to be with you, then maybe I’ll let you sponsor me.” I laughed so hard my stomach hurt. I asked loudly, “Victor, did I ever say this money was for you?” “Whether you swallow your pride to apply for aid or pack your bags and drop out, it has absolutely nothing to do with me.” The classmates, who were waiting for a show, burst into laughter. Victor was famous for being aloof and noble. But he was too used to being confident. After a brief moment of panic, he composed himself. He turned to me and said, “I only accepted your help before because you insisted. But don’t you dare think you can buy my love.” “Swear to everyone here that you won’t force me to date you, and I’ll accept your tuition money.” Wow. Even the onlookers couldn’t hold back their chuckles. It was their first time seeing a beggar try to be a chooser so shamelessly. “Is Victor deaf?” “Alice just said she’s giving the money to the school fund. When did she say she was sponsoring him?” “Man, if Alice hadn’t been boosting his ego all this time, where would he get this delusion?” “Maybe Alice really did force him because of his looks, and he’s just fed up?” Everyone was whispering, and the gossip quickly drifted back to me “forcing” Victor to date me.

I wasn’t about to carry the reputation of a desperate rich girl who bought a boyfriend for a second lifetime. I had to clear my name right then and there. I looked Victor dead in the eye and said coldly: “You still want my money?” “The school has financial aid, but you’re too proud to apply, expecting me to beg you to take my cash?” “Do I look that pathetic to you?” Seeing my serious face, Victor’s confident facade began to crack. He blustered, “I don’t care if you’re playing mind games or trying to blackmail me with money.” “You will never separate me from Vivian again, you wicked woman.” By now, the crowd understood. I was done being his ATM. Besides, I had never forced Victor to do anything in my life. How could I have “stolen” him with money? Sure, Alice used to be a simp, but times change. Who says I have to love Victor forever? With that established, no one could throw dirt on me anymore. “Victor, just apply for financial aid. Everyone knows your situation anyway.” “Yeah, dude. Don’t demand pride and cash at the same time. Let Alice go.” “Honestly, Alice gave you so much money, and she never forced you to date her.” Hearing a few voices take my side, the sheer injustice of my past death washed over me. I admitted I liked him. I liked his pride and aloofness, but I never forced him. Instead, he was always cruel to me. He took my money and then insulted me for being a useless rich girl. For him, I fought with my parents and moved into his tiny, run-down apartment. I took care of his sick mother, did all the chores, and even paused my studies to help his career. I was a silent giver, yet he always saw me as a monster who humiliated him with wealth. He believed I ruined his chance with Vivian and forced him into marriage. I used to hate that he couldn’t see my devotion. But now, I only hated his hypocrisy, cowardice, and double standards. I announced loudly, “Victor, yes, I used to chase you.” “But starting today, we are strangers. I want Mr. Harrison and everyone here to be my witness.” “And of course, you won’t get another single penny from me.” Leaving a stunned Victor behind, I turned on my heel and went home.

My parents were shocked and thrilled to see me home. Looking at them, and remembering how they suffered in my past life, I burst into tears. My dad, who had been furious with me for obsessing over Victor, panicked when he saw me cry. “Alice… if you really love him that much, I won’t stop you!” My mom was heartbroken. Thinking someone had bullied me, she wanted to go pull some hairs out. I choked back my sobs. “No, Dad. It’s over. I was stupid.” “Victor just wanted to bleed us dry. I was ungrateful and made you guys suffer for nothing.” My dad let out a massive sigh of relief. He didn’t care why I suddenly woke up; he was just glad I did. I wiped my tears and sat down at the dining table under their warm gazes. The table was packed with my favorite dishes. Mom smiled, “Eat up, sweetheart. You’ve gotten so thin lately.” In my past life, to protect Victor’s fragile ego, I wore cheap clothes, took the bus, and refused to use our family chauffeur. Now, looking at my designer clothes and perfect makeup in the mirror, I found my past self hilarious. I was born to stand on top of the world. Why did I drag myself through the mud for a piece of trash? The next day, I had my chauffeur park my Maybach right at the school entrance. As the door opened, whispers erupted. “Is that Alice in a Maybach?” “Didn’t she walk to school every day just to spare Victor’s feelings?” I walked past the crowd with my head held high, only to be blocked by Victor at the corner of the hallway. His collar was stained with grease, his eyes were bloodshot, and he was clutching a crumpled piece of paper. I glanced at it. It was a tuition warning letter. “Move,” I said, not even looking at him. “Alice!” He grabbed the strap of my designer bag, pulling so hard I almost fell. “Do you think playing hard to get will make me bow down to you?” I slapped his hand away and sneered, “Victor, you’re blocking my way.” His breathing turned shallow, and he slammed the letter against the wall. “Stop pretending! Didn’t you beg me to spend your money in our last life?” “Wait… did you get reborn too?” He stepped closer. “So what if you did? You’re still the same desperate girl who would do anything for me!” “Go to the office right now, cancel that donation, and pay my tuition! And Vivian’s too!” I almost laughed out loud. “Why on earth would I do that?” “Because you’re the reason she can’t afford school!”

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I was on a romantic getaway abroad with my fiancée, Grace Fletcher, when our plane went down in a catastrophic crash. When I opened my eyes again, I realized I had been reborn. We were back to the days when we had just met. In my past life, I loved her to the point of madness for three years. I spoiled her rotten, but she never allowed me to get physically close to her, using her extreme germophobia as an excuse. It was only by pure accident that I discovered the truth—she was still deeply in love with her childhood best friend, Isaac Vance. Having been given a second chance at life, I decided to let her go. I chose to step aside and stop entangling myself with her. Five years had passed. Grace, now an award-winning actress, was walking arm-in-arm with her childhood sweetheart, Isaac, handing out wedding invitations to a line of her loyal fans. When she noticed me standing alone at the very back of the line, her face twisted with sheer disdain. “Edward, no matter how amazing I am, is it really necessary for you to stalk me through two lifetimes?” I couldn’t be bothered to waste my breath on her. Instead, I reached down and scooped up my daughter, Maria, into my arms. The color instantly drained from Grace’s face. She screamed at the top of her lungs, her voice cracking with hysteria: “You promised me! You said you would only ever marry me, and that I was the only one allowed to be the mother of your children!”

Five years later, I ran into Grace again at an exclusive private country club. I had just finished planning, coordinating, and setting up three major weddings back-to-back. Absolutely exhausted and looking a bit of a mess, I was sitting in a quiet corner of the lobby, nursing a bottle of water. Nearby, Grace and Isaac were handing out invitations to a crowd of adoring fans, soaking in their endless flattery. “Grace, you’re literally the breakout star of the industry! An Academy Award in just three years!” “And you and Isaac are finally getting married! You really have it all!” “Seriously! Grace is the most sought-after actress both here and abroad. Her wealth and connections are insane now.” “Isaac is a rising star in Los Angeles’ elite circles, too. You guys are the definition of couple goals!” “Grace, if your next movie needs extras, please throw us a bone! Let us experience the star life too.” “Yeah, let us ride your coattails and make some quick cash!” Grace smiled warmly, pointing at the man beside her. “Once our wedding is over, I’ll make sure Isaac sets something up for you guys.” Suddenly, one of the fans piped up, “Hey, Grace, is that guy Edward still stalking you?” “Ugh, remember how he used to follow you around like a lost puppy? It was so annoying.” “Yeah, rumor has it that the first TV show you invested in was actually based on your story with him.” Hearing my name, I paused and looked up. Grace’s smile vanished, and she frowned in annoyance. Being the perfect, attentive fiancé, Isaac quickly stepped in with a smooth smile. “Oh, come on, guys. Those are just internet rumors.” “If Grace and Edward actually had anything going on, would I be standing here handing out our wedding invitations today?” The young fans nodded in agreement, immediately turning their anger on the internet trolls who started the rumors. Sitting in my corner, I let out a mocking, silent laugh. In our past life, Grace had once told me that if she ever became an actress, she would tell the whole world our love story so everyone would envy how pure our love was. Back then, we were both kids raised by single parents. We met through a mutual college roommate and gradually became inseparable. Perhaps because we shared similar lonely childhoods, we always had endless things to talk about. After a group dinner one night, Grace got a little tipsy and confessed her feelings to me. With blushing cheeks, she had said, “Edward, you’ve been in my heart for so long. I want to be with you forever.” Young and hopelessly in love, I happily agreed. At that time, I genuinely believed I had found my soulmate. But reality soon started slapping me in the face. Clank! My water bottle slipped and rolled across the marble floor, the sharp noise instantly drawing everyone’s attention to my corner. “Wait, isn’t that Edward? Is he seriously stalking Grace again?” “Look at that blue utility jumpsuit. Don’t tell me he’s working here as a janitor?” “We, as Grace’s loyal fans, are all high-class people with actual money.” “You sneaked in here without an invitation. Don’t get caught by the paparazzi, you’ll make Grace look bad!” “Honestly, let’s just start a GoFundMe and throw him a thousand bucks so he can get the hell out of here! He’s embarrassing us!” The crowd erupted into nasty laughter, throwing looks of pure disgust my way. I calmly picked up my water bottle, wiped it down with a napkin, and ignored them. Grace looked at me with a complicated expression, her voice dripping with condescension. “Edward, look at yourself. What have you become?” Isaac wrapped a comforting arm around her waist and said gently, “Now, Grace, we did know Edward back in the day.” “Since he’s reduced to working as a low-level setup guy here, we should show some charity and help him out.”

Isaac looked at me, a smug smirk playing on his lips. “Seriously, Edward, if you’ve been struggling so hard these past five years, you should have just asked us for help!” “Even if you were too embarrassed to face Grace, you could have come to beg me.” “A man with no money and no stable job… it’s just pathetic.” The fans cheered at Isaac’s words, praising his generosity. I got up, opened the heavy glass doors for a pregnant woman walking by, and then turned back to decline his offer. “No, thank you. I can feed myself.” Having just managed three luxury weddings in a row, my entire body was aching. All I wanted was to sit down and rest. Since I was already wearing my durable work clothes, I didn’t care about manners and simply sat back down on the clean floor. The fans gasped, looking like they wanted to physically throw me out. “Wow, the nerve of this guy! Isaac was just being nice, who do you think you are?” “He’s staying here on purpose just to play the victim card in front of Grace.” “He wants Grace to pity him and throw him some cash! Disgusting!” A storm of emotions flashed through Grace’s eyes, her frown deepening. Suddenly, she reached into her designer bag, pulled out an expensive emerald necklace, and threw it right into my lap. “Pawn it. The cash you get will be enough to buy a decent apartment.” “Whether you live in it or rent it out, you won’t have to humiliate yourself working as a janitor anymore.” “Edward, there’s no need to make yourself look this miserable. No matter how much you loved me, we are in the past now.” “I don’t even hold a grudge against you anymore.” “Can’t we just live our own lives? Why do you have to show up like this and make things awkward for both of us?!” Leaning against the wall, I looked at her, utterly baffled by her sudden outburst. I couldn’t understand what I had done in our past life—where I had literally given her my heart and soul—that made her “grudge-holding” and so determined to completely cut me out of her life after we both got a reset. In our past life, Grace carried the heavy burden of her mother’s terminal cancer bills. But she was vain and beautiful, obsessed with the dream of becoming a famous Hollywood star. To support her dream and be her rock, I didn’t hesitate to remortgage the house my parents left me and gave her every single penny. When she said she wanted to move to another state to attend an elite acting school but worried about her hospitalized mother, I didn’t hesitate. I quit my job just as I was about to be promoted to regional manager. I spent my days and nights at the hospital, taking care of her dying mother so she could pursue her Hollywood dream without any worries. Back then, I gave her everything. I just wanted her to know that I loved her, and that she could lean on me. But when she was preparing for a crucial audition and couldn’t find a single designer dress in her closet, she completely snapped. She lost her mind, scratching my arms until they bled. “I was crazy! Why did I ever get stuck with a loser like you?!” “You can’t give me anything! If I had just accepted Isaac’s sponsorship, I wouldn’t be struggling like this!” “I hate myself for choosing you!” From that day on, Grace became a completely different person. She stopped talking about her acting dreams with excitement, and she stopped going to auditions. Our relationship turned ice-cold. The memory of her harsh words still felt like a physical stab to my chest. To cheer me up, a close friend gifted me two tickets for a three-day tropical getaway. Terrified of losing her, I got down on one knee on the plane and proposed. “Grace, you are the only one I want to marry. Let’s make this official.” But I would never forget the look of absolute disgust in her eyes. She slapped the silver ring out of my hand and snapped, “No money, no house, and you want to get married? Are you insane?” “Do you have zero self-awareness? How did you even come up with such a pathetic idea?” “Let me make this clear. I could marry anyone in the world, but you? Never.” Her cold, ruthless words made me realize it was truly over. I sat back in my seat, utterly hollowed out. Even when the plane began to violently shake and dive, I felt no fear. As the nose of the plane plunged toward the ocean, I closed my eyes and whispered in my heart: Let it end. Let this messy, miserable life finally end.

The tiny spark of affection I once had for Grace had been completely incinerated in that plane crash. In this new life, we had both silently agreed to ignore each other’s existence, living like parallel lines that would never intersect. Even running into her now, I had zero desire to have anything to do with her. I calmly picked up the emerald necklace and tossed it back into her lap. “Miss Fletcher, if you want to make a charitable donation, the orphanage is down the street. I’m not your trash can.” Grace’s face flushed with anger. “Edward! You know exactly what I’m trying to do. Why do you have to twist my words like this?” “Miss Fletcher,” I replied, my voice cold and flat. “You are a taken woman. Please mind your boundaries.” “I don’t need to understand your intentions, nor do I care. I make enough money to support myself, and I’m perfectly content.” With that, I turned my back on her. Furious, Grace slammed the emerald necklace onto the floor, the heavy gems making a sharp clattering sound. Isaac’s expression darkened instantly. He picked up the necklace, dusting it off, and looked at me with a condescending, patronizing smile. “Edward, we’re both men here. I get it, you’re trying to save face.” “But Grace is my fiancée, and since she sincerely wants to help you, I’ll make sure it happens.” “Since you’re too proud to accept a valuable piece of jewelry, how about a comfortable, easy job?” “Grace and I just got a golden retriever, and we need a live-in dog nanny. The pay is five thousand dollars a month, room and board included.” “Drop the useless pride, Edward. Come report to our mansion tomorrow morning.” The fans immediately began to murmur in awe. “Oh my god! Grace and Isaac are literally saints!” “They’re basically offering to feed him and pay for his retirement.” “Playing with a puppy pays way better than being a janitor!” “If he rejects this, he’s just being greedy and probably wants to blackmail Grace for more!” “Seriously, does he not look in the mirror? He’s not even a fraction of the man Isaac is!” My brows furrowed. “No interest,” I said coldly. Grace lost her patience and snapped, “Fine! If you love being a lowly setup guy so much, keep doing it. Go ahead and rot at the bottom of society!” Seeing Grace turn hostile toward me, her rabid fans immediately jumped at the chance to please her. The fan who had been called out earlier for spreading rumors stepped right in front of me, a nasty, mocking sneer on her face. “Hey, Edward, aren’t you just holding out for more money?” “Tell you what. If you crawl through my legs ten times and call me ‘gorgeous’ each time, I’ll gladly pay for your rent and meals. What do you say?” The girls next to her, eager to show off in front of Grace, surged forward and aggressively shoved me. Losing my balance, I tripped and fell hard right at her feet, my forehead hitting the floor as if I were bowing to her. “What the hell is wrong with you guys?!” Grace’s face turned furious. She rushed over and violently shoved the fans away. “Is this the kind of garbage behavior my fan club represents? Who gave you the right to do this?” “If anyone ever pulls a disgusting, low-class stunt like this in front of me again, get the hell out of my sight! You’re making me sick!” The fans who had been pushed to the ground were completely stunned. Realizing they had crossed a line, they burst into tears, begging Grace for forgiveness. But Grace showed no mercy, coldly kicking their hands away. Isaac quickly grabbed her arm, whispering urgently, “Grace, calm down. People are watching. Don’t let anyone record this and twist it!” “You just won Best Actress! You need to protect your public image!” Grace glared at the crying fans, her chest heaving with anger. “Then they shouldn’t be acting like trash under my name!” I slowly sat up, feeling incredibly perplexed. Did Grace just turn on her own fans… to defend me? Isaac quickly tried to change the subject, pointing to the massive LED screen in the club lobby. “Grace, do you know why I booked your fan meetup at this specific private club?” “The owner of this place is a legendary billionaire tycoon. She owns over fifty major media, entertainment, and production companies.” “Almost all the award-winning blockbusters recently were produced by her companies. Everyone in the industry is desperate to get a meeting with her.” “Today, she’s bringing her family here for a routine inspection.” “If we can get on her good side, our careers will skyrocket!” The fans who had been crying a moment ago immediately forgot their tears and crowded around the entrance, craneing their necks to look outside. A moment later, a sleek, custom stretch Lincoln pulled up at the entrance. A crowd of elite bodyguards and private nannies walked in, surrounding a beautiful little girl. A fan squealed in excitement, “Oh my god, the billionaire’s family is here!” I tried to step through the crowd to see the little girl. But a fan violently shoved her elbow into my chest. “Get out of the way, loser! Only Grace’s VIP fans get to stand here. Who do you think you are?” “You insulted Grace and refused to be my boy toy. You don’t even deserve to breathe the same air as us!” Isaac smirked slightly, giving the fan an encouraging look, and another girl pushed me hard. The little girl in the center of the crowd suddenly gasped, her face turning pale. She broke away from her nannies, running past the security guards straight toward me. “Daddy! Are you okay?”

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In my husband Alex’s car accident insurance claim, I saw a life insurance policy worth five million dollars. The beneficiary wasn’t me. It wasn’t our four-year-old daughter, Betty, either. It was a name I had never heard of—Aurora. I stared at the name. The blood in my veins turned to ice. The insurance agent on the other end of the line was still speaking in a polite, professional tone: “Mrs. Wilson, your husband’s injuries are not severe. It’s mostly soft tissue bruising. You don’t need to worry too much.” “Regarding this policy…” “I got it.” I heard my own voice. It was incredibly calm—scarily calm. “Thank you.” I hung up and sat on the bench in the hospital corridor, clutching the thin photocopy of the document. There it was, in black and white: Policyholder: Alex Wilson; Insured: Alex Wilson; Beneficiary: Aurora. The policy was opened five years ago. The very first year of our marriage. The annual premium: fifty thousand dollars. Paid consecutively for five years. That was two hundred and fifty thousand dollars in total. For the past five years, I had stood by his side through his startup journey. I watched him go from having absolutely nothing to building a decently sized tech company. I gave up my job as a Creative Design Director to become a stay-at-home mom, being his strongest support system. I poured my entire life savings and the $600,000 cash gift my parents gave us for our wedding straight into his so-called tech startup. To save money, I scoured grocery apps for coupons. I only bought Betty’s clothes from the clearance racks at Target. The trench coat I was wearing right now was one I had bought three years ago. Yet, in a dark corner I knew nothing about, he was spending fifty thousand dollars a year to secure a five-million-dollar future for a strange woman. I suddenly wanted to laugh. Alex, my dear husband. What on earth did you take me for?

“Christy? What are you doing here?” Alex was lying in the hospital bed, his left leg in a cast. When he saw me, a flicker of panic crossed his eyes before he quickly hid it. “I came to see you.” I set down the insulated food jar. Inside was the slow-cooked oxtail soup he loved most. I had simmered it for four hours. “It’s just a minor injury. You didn’t have to trouble yourself.” He tried to sit up, but the movement winced his wound, making him gasp. I walked over, adjusted the bed head, and placed a pillow behind his back. “Is the office busy? Where is Betty?” he asked. “The office is fine. I dropped Betty off at my mom’s place.” I pulled my hands back, opened the container, ladled a bowl of soup, and handed it to him. “The doctor said you have a minor bone fracture. You need bed rest for three months.” “Three months?” He frowned. “What about the company? We have a crucial project launching right now.” “Your health comes first,” I said quietly, watching him take sip after sip of the soup. After a few mouthfuls, he seemed to remember something and put the bowl down. “By the way, did the insurance company call you?” “Yes.” “What did they say?” His eyes darted away. “Nothing much. Just verifying some basic details.” I lowered my gaze, staring at the cast on his leg. “Alex, when I was organizing the claim files today, I saw your accidental life insurance policy.” His hand shook, almost imperceptibly. “Oh… that one. I bought it years ago.” He pretended to be casual, picking up his spoon to stir the soup. “The beneficiary is Aurora,” I said, looking him dead in the eye. “Who is she?” Alex’s face turned instantly pale. His hand froze mid-air. A drop of soup dripped from the spoon, staining the white bedsheet with a greasy spot. “Christy, I…” He opened his mouth, trying to find a plausible excuse. “Who is she?” I repeated. The air in the room seemed to freeze. He avoided my gaze and remained silent for a long time. It was so long that I thought he wouldn’t answer at all. “…She’s a… friend of mine,” he finally spoke, his voice raspy. “A friend?” I laughed. The sound was sharp and mocking in the quiet room. “What kind of friend is worth you keeping secrets, spending fifty thousand dollars a year to buy her a five-million-dollar safety net?” I took a step closer. I slammed the lid of the food jar onto the nightstand, making a sharp clattering sound. “Alex, we’ve been married for five years. How did I not know you had a friend you’d trust with your life and death?” He didn’t dare look at me anymore. His eyes fixed on the greasy stain on the bedsheet as if it held his saving grace. “Christy, it’s not what you think,” he muttered weakly. “Aurora has a bad heart. She was born with congenital heart disease. I just wanted to leave her some security.” “Congenital heart disease?” I repeated, finding it utterly ridiculous. “Alex, do you actually believe that lie yourself?” “It’s true!” He looked up quickly, trying to grab my hand, but I stepped back to avoid him. “She’s the daughter of my college mentor. Years ago, he died in an accident while saving my life.” “On his deathbed, he entrusted Aurora to me. I promised him I would take care of her for the rest of her life.” He spoke with such passion, his eyes even turning red. What a touching story. A heroic mentor, a frail orphan girl, and a loyal student. If the beneficiary of that policy weren’t Aurora instead of me, I would have clapped for my husband’s “noble character.” “Your mentor? How come I’ve never heard you mention him?” I looked at him coldly. “I went to your college graduation. Your mentor, Professor Johnson, just retired this year. He actually emailed us baby pictures of his grandson last month.”

Alex’s face went from pale to ash gray. He probably didn’t expect me to remember such a detail so clearly. “It was another professor,” he stammered, still trying to fight it. “Which one? What’s his name? What year did he pass away? I’ll go to your university’s archives tomorrow to check.” He fell completely silent. The room became dead quiet. I looked at him. This was the man I had loved for five years, the man I had given my youth and savings to. In this moment, I felt nothing but disgust. “Alex.” I took a deep breath, forcing down the nausea rising in my throat. “I am asking you one last time. Who is Aurora?” He remained silent for a long time, until the sunlight outside shifted its angle. Finally, he looked up, his eyes filled with exhaustion and silent pleading. “Christy, just don’t ask, okay?” he whispered, his voice cracking. “I’m begging you. Just blame me. But there is really nothing romantic between us.” “I’ll find a way to cancel that policy.” “Cancel it?” I laughed. “Five years. Two hundred and fifty thousand dollars. And you say you’ll just ‘cancel’ it?” “Alex, that was our family’s money! That was the startup capital I saved by pinching pennies! That was Betty’s college fund!” My voice rose uncontrollably, my chest heaving. He was startled by my reaction. His lips trembled. “Christy, don’t be mad. I’ll pay you back…” “With what?” I glared at him. “Your company just got on track. Every single penny needs to be reinvested into projects. Tell me, where are you getting the money to pay me back?” He had no answer. Looking at his pathetic, guilty face, the last shred of warmth in my heart died. I turned around and grabbed my bag. “Where are you going?” he asked frantically. “Home.” I didn’t look back. “Have a good recovery, Mr. Wilson.” I spat out “Mr. Wilson” coldly. As I walked out of the hospital lobby, the bright sunlight stung my eyes. I stood by the curb and called my best friend, Charlotte. Charlotte was a fierce, sharp-witted corporate lawyer, and the only person I trusted completely. The moment she picked up, her voice came through: “Hey Christy, what’s wrong? You sound off.” “Charlotte.” My voice shook, but I forced myself to stay steady. “Can you help me dig into someone?” “Who?” “Aurora.” Saying the name felt like swallowing a needle. “Female. That’s her name. I don’t know anything else.” The line went silent for a few seconds. “Is this about Alex?” Charlotte asked sharply. “Yes.” “Alright.” She didn’t press further. “Give me half a day. Where are you now? Don’t be alone.” “I’m outside the hospital, about to head home.” “Okay. I’ll handle my meetings and come find you.” “Remember, until we have all the facts, do not make a move. Don’t pick a fight with him.” “I know.” After hanging up, I took an Uber home. The house was empty. Without Betty’s laughter, it felt cold and hollow. I walked into our bedroom and opened the closet. The left side was mine—only a few clothes hung there. Mostly cotton tees and jeans. The most expensive piece was a trench coat I bought three years ago. The right side was Alex’s—expensive suits, designer shirts, silk ties, all organized and perfectly pressed. Every single piece cost a fortune. He had told me that in business, appearance was everything. I had believed him. I thought him dressing sharp was for our family, for our future. How pathetic of me. I walked into the study and booted up his laptop. The password was Betty’s birthday. I used to be deeply moved by this detail, thinking he kept us close to his heart. Now, it just felt like a mockery. I searched the name “Aurora.” Soon, an account popped up on Instagram. The profile picture was a woman’s silhouette. She had long, flowing hair and stood in a field of flowers, looking elegant and artistic. Her handle was simply “Aurora.” Her bio read: Artist. Idealist. I clicked in. Her feed was filled with an aesthetic lifestyle—art exhibitions, luxury travels, fine dining, fresh flowers. Every photo looked like a movie still. She was living the life I had once dreamed of, the life I had sacrificed to support Alex.

I scrolled down. A post from three weeks ago caught my eye. It was a photo of a painting. The caption read: “When my inspiration runs dry, thank god I have you.” The painting depicted a beach with a lighthouse. I knew that lighthouse all too well. It was the beach in my hometown. It was the exact spot where Alex and I had officially started dating. He had told me I was his lighthouse. My fingers shook uncontrollably as I opened the comments section. The top comment was from an account named “A.W.” The profile picture was just a black screen. He had replied with just one word: “Always.” A.W. Alex Wilson. I clicked on “A.W.’s” profile. It was completely empty. He only followed one person—Aurora. I went back to Aurora’s Instagram and kept scrolling. I saw countless photos of her traveling the world. The Eiffel Tower in Paris, cherry blossoms in Kyoto, blue-domed churches in Santorini. I looked at them one by one, matching the dates of her photos with the dates in my memory when Alex was “away on business.” Paris, three years ago: He said he was attending a tech summit in New York. Kyoto, two years ago: He said he was meeting a client in Toronto. Santorini, last year: He said it was a company retreat in Miami. It turned out his “business trips” and “company retreats” were actually spent accompanying another woman on the other side of the world, indulging in romance. And what was I doing during those times? I was probably haggling over grocery prices at the market. I was probably holding a feverish Betty in my arms, waiting in line alone at the ER. I was probably at home, washing piles of his dirty socks, looking forward to him coming home from his “hard work.” I shut the laptop down. I felt utterly frozen, as if I had been dropped into a glacial lake. The love I believed in, the marriage I was so proud of—it was all a carefully crafted scam from the very beginning. And I was the fool who had been kept in the dark the longest.

In the afternoon, Charlotte arrived. The moment she stepped in, she gave me a tight hug. “I got everything.” She pressed me down onto the sofa and handed me a warm cup of water. “Drink this, calm down, and listen to me.” I held the cup and nodded. “Aurora, twenty-eight, professional painter. She owns her own gallery and studio in the city’s trendiest art district.” Charlotte spoke fast and clear. “She has a luxury condo downtown, 1,700 square feet, fully paid off. It was bought four years ago.” “And she has zero history of heart disease. She’s perfectly healthy.” “Four years ago…” I whispered. That was the second year of our marriage. That was when I handed Alex our wedding fund cash to help him expand his company. “Exactly,” Charlotte looked at me, her eyes filled with sympathy. “I also checked her gallery. She is the legal representative, but the biggest investor is… Alex’s company.” “How much did he invest?” “Over three million dollars in total.” “On the books, it was masked as ‘art procurement’ and ‘brand image design’ expenses.” I laughed. What a brilliant “art procurement.” What a creative “brand image design.” He used my money to fund his mistress’s dreams, throwing millions to pave a glamorous path for her. Meanwhile, I, his legal wife, had to hesitate before buying a single piece of new clothing. “There’s more.” Charlotte paused, pulling a document from her bag. “This is the equity structure of Alex’s company. Take a look.” I took it. My hands were shaking violently. It was clearly written. Alex owned 60%, his partner Jack owned 30%, and the remaining 10%… was under Aurora’s name. “Jack is his co-founder, I know that.” I pointed at Aurora’s name. “But what is this ten percent?” “The corporate registry shows this ten percent was transferred from Alex’s personal shares to her, free of charge, three years ago.” Three years ago. Again. The exact year he went to Paris with her. “A free transfer?” “Yes.” Charlotte’s expression was grim. “Christy, this means legally, Aurora is a shareholder in Alex’s company. She gets annual dividends.” I stared at the document, my vision blurring. I had poured my life savings into his company, and all I got was the empty title of a “supportive wife.” But that woman, without contributing a single dime, became a shareholder and sat back to collect dividends every year. Alex, you really are something else. What did you think of me? A free housekeeper who guards your house, bears your child, serves you, and funds your mistress? “Christy, are you okay?” Charlotte asked worriedly. I shook my head and set the papers back on the table. “I’m fine.” My voice was incredibly calm, surprising even myself. “Charlotte, if I file for divorce right now, what can I get?” Charlotte blinked, then took a professional tone. “Don’t rush. Let’s take this step by step. First, the most important thing is evidence.” “I have it,” I said. “The five-million-dollar insurance policy, and everything you just found.” “It’s not enough,” Charlotte shook her head. “These only prove his infidelity and the dissipation of marital assets. But to get back what you truly deserve, we need ironclad proof, especially the paper trail of that $600,000 your parents gave him.” “I bank-transferred that money to him in two installments. There are bank records.” “Did you write a memo on the transfer?” “No. Back then… I trusted him completely.” Charlotte sighed. “That makes things trickier.” “He can easily argue that the money was a gift, or that it was already spent on family expenses. To prove it was a business investment and that he misappropriated it, we need to get our hands on the company’s internal accounting books.” “He will never give them to me.” “I know,” Charlotte’s eyes turned sharp. “So, we have to find a way to get them ourselves.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “450537”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster

My engagement video on TikTok went viral. Just as I was about to close the comment section, a top comment with tens of thousands of likes caught my eye and made me laugh. “Your fiancé and the girl standing next to him definitely have something going on. Their outfits look more like a matching couple’s set than yours.” “Agreed. And in that last photo, the guy has a smudge on his upper lip that perfectly matches her lipstick. Looks like Chanel Rouge Allure shade 154.” I replied: “Thanks for the concern, guys! But you’re overthinking it. She’s my best friend, and she and my fiancé have never really gotten along. It’s just a coincidence.” After hitting send, a strange impulse drove me to zoom in on the picture. I stared at the reddish smudge on his lip, lost in thought. I didn’t own that shade. But it was my best friend’s absolute favorite. A second later, I shook my head and laughed at myself, thinking I was being paranoid. I still remembered the first time I introduced Ethan to my best friend, Rachel. They literally ended up arguing in the private dining room. Ever since then, they would bicker every time they met. Whenever we went out, I had to choose between the two of them to avoid a scene. Tonight, Ethan was working late at the office. I turned on one of my usual sleep-aid live streams on TikTok. Just as I was drifting off, a familiar voice jolted me awake. “I hooked up with my best friend’s fiancé. I don’t want to lose either of them. What should I do?” I sat straight up in bed, completely wide awake. Although the woman on the split-screen stream was wearing sunglasses and a face mask, I recognized her instantly. It was Rachel.

My sleepiness vanished. I sat there in the dark, my heart hammering against my ribs. On the screen, the host scolded her for a bit before kicking her off the live stream. I immediately searched for her username. It was clearly a burner account, and it was set to private. I requested to follow her, but she didn’t accept it right away. Rachel was a night owl; there was no way she was asleep at this hour. I changed my Snapchat display name to “Team True Love,” and a second later, she accepted my request. Rachel’s profile had dozens of private videos. Every single one of them showed her and Ethan in incredibly intimate poses. As I scrolled down, I realized that every time Ethan claimed he was working late, he was actually with her. My hands shook so violently I could barely hold my phone. “Did you see that live stream? Do you think we actually have a future together?” A message from Rachel popped up. Reading those two short sentences felt like a physical blow to my chest. I bit my lower lip hard, typing back: “Yeah. When did you guys start seeing each other? Aren’t you afraid your best friend will cut you off?” Rachel replied almost instantly: “We’ve been together for over a year. He confessed to me first.” “Of course I’m scared. But I can’t control my heart. I think once she finds out, she’ll understand.” My fingers froze. The phone slipped from my hand and fell onto my lap, but I couldn’t even feel the impact. Ethan and I had been engaged for exactly one year and two months. Rachel had met him for the very first time at our engagement party. Rachel sent a few more messages after that, but I couldn’t bring myself to read them. Just then, a notification popped up at the top of my screen. “Ethan, who you follow, just shared a new post.” I tapped into Ethan’s Instagram. It was a new photo. I recognized the background instantly—it was Rachel’s bedroom. One of our mutual friends had commented: “You spent the night at Rachel’s and actually dared to post it on Instagram?” “Aren’t you afraid Chloe will find out?” Ethan replied: “She hasn’t logged into Instagram in ages. She won’t notice.” With trembling hands, I scrolled through Ethan’s Instagram feed. I discovered that he had soft-launched his relationship with Rachel a year ago. He had even posted a picture of them kissing passionately in the dark. I stared at the photo, zooming in over and over again. But no matter how hard I tried to deny it, the man in the photo was indeed my fiancé, Ethan. And the woman was my best friend, Rachel. In the three years I had been with Ethan, I had asked him countless times to post about us on Instagram. He had always refused, giving me all kinds of excuses. Yet, he had no problem declaring his love for my best friend on his secret account. I didn’t sleep a wink that night. The next morning, Ethan came home. He walked into the bedroom as usual, leaning down to kiss my forehead. As he drew closer, a heavy scent of perfume washed over me. It was Rachel’s signature scent. I opened my eyes, startling him. “Chloe, why are you up so early?” I subtly pulled back, creating some distance between us. “Couldn’t sleep. Were you out drinking with clients again? The perfume smell is overwhelming. Go take a shower.” A flash of panic crossed Ethan’s eyes. He let out a forced laugh and quickly headed to the bathroom. Once I heard the shower running, I carefully picked up his phone. I automatically entered his birthday. “Incorrect Password.” My fingertips trembled. In all the years we had been together, he had never changed his passcode. Suppressing the lump in my throat, I tried entering Rachel’s birthday. It unlocked. No matter how careful Ethan thought he was, he had left traces. I opened his hidden photo album. It was filled with photos of him and Rachel—taking selfies in different countries, hugging on beaches. Every time his company had a business trip that allowed a plus-one, I had asked to go. But he had always turned me down. “Chloe, I’m going there to work. Having you there will only distract me.” I had genuinely believed he was just keeping his professional and personal life separate. But now I knew. He had been taking another woman with him, letting her live the life that belonged to me. The sound of the running water began to fade. Realizing Ethan was about to come out, I quickly put the phone back and pretended nothing had happened. “Chloe, come back to bed. I’m exhausted.” Ethan pulled me into his arms as he lay back down. Just thinking about how these hands had held Rachel in the exact same way made me want to throw up. As he drifted off to sleep, I went to push him away, but then I heard him mumble: “Rachel… don’t leave me. I love you.” I felt like I had been struck by lightning. I couldn’t move. Ethan was a reserved man. He had never said “I love you” to me. Even at our engagement party, he had only whispered: “Chloe, you’re finally mine.” I turned my head away, wiping my tears silently. I slipped out of bed, walked out of the room, and dialed a number. “Hi, this is Chloe. Regarding the wedding in two weeks… I’d like to change the bride’s name on the program to Rachel.”

When Ethan woke up, he reached out to the empty, cold space beside him, looking a bit dazed. Usually, I would be right there, eagerly waiting for him to wake up. But not today. He washed up and came downstairs. I was sitting on the couch, watching our engagement video. “Chloe, you look really pale. Did my sleep-talking wake you up?” I could hear the subtle questioning in Ethan’s voice. My face remained blank. “No.” He let out a quiet sigh of relief and sat down beside me. “What are you watching? I’ll watch with you.” I paused the video. “Hold on. Someone else is coming.” Before Ethan could ask, the doorbell rang. I got up to open it. Rachel had completely changed her style today. She was wearing a simple white sundress, with barely-there makeup. I looked her up and down, a cold smile playing on my lips. “Rachel, this isn’t like you. What’s the occasion? Did you find a new guy to impress?” I didn’t miss the flicker of expression on Rachel’s face. Her smile stiffened, and she avoided my gaze. “No, I just… wanted to try out the style you like.” I said nothing. I knew exactly who she was trying to impress. Ethan loved the “innocent, pure girl” look, which was why I had spent years dressing up in white dresses just to please him. I stepped aside to let her in. When Ethan looked up, his eyes practically locked onto her. Realizing he was staring, he cleared his throat and started putting on his usual act. “Rachel? What are the odds of you showing up this early? Great, now I’ve lost my appetite for breakfast.” Rachel shot back, matching his energy: “Oh, please, Ethan. You think I want to see your face? If it weren’t for Chloe, I wouldn’t even step foot in your house.” I watched them trade barbs. How had I never noticed how fake their acting was? If I hadn’t known the truth, I would have stepped in to play peacemaker. But now, I just stood there, watching the show, finding it almost laughable. Seeing that I wasn’t reacting, Ethan gave a cold huff, wrapped his arm around my shoulder, and sat down. As we turned, I caught a fleeting glimpse of jealousy and hurt in Rachel’s eyes. Probably to avoid suspicion, she chose to sit on the armchair furthest from us. Now that everyone was here, I pressed play on the video. The screen showed a close-up. It was Ethan and Rachel, whispering intimately in a corner, completely ignoring me. “Ethan, since when did you and Rachel get so close? I had no idea.” “Seeing how you two were practically at each other’s throats just now, one might think you’re just putting on a show for me.” I threw the question out casually. Rachel, already on edge, looked at me in pure panic. “Chloe, you’re overthinking it. It must be the camera angle. You know how much I can’t stand him.” Ethan took a sip of his coffee, chiming in, “Yeah, definitely a bad camera angle.” I kept my eyes on the TV screen, but Ethan and Rachel were clearly squirming. “Chloe, I’m going to use the restroom,” Rachel said. A few minutes later, Ethan’s phone vibrated. Though he quickly flipped the screen over, I caught the name on the lock screen: “Rachel.” “Chloe, I need to take this work call.” I stared at his back as he walked toward the hallway bathroom, and then I silently got up to follow him. Hiding around the corner, I watched Rachel open the bathroom door, reach out, and pull Ethan inside. When we remodeled the house, Ethan had insisted on using lightweight doors so he could hear me if I ever slipped or needed help. Because of that, the bathroom door had zero soundproofing. “Ethan, you touched her just now. I’m jealous. Did you guys do anything behind my back this morning?”

Rachel’s voice was dripping with jealousy. Ethan let out a soft laugh. The blurred shadow against the frosted glass leaned down to kiss her cheek. “Silly girl, you know you’re the only one I love, right?” “I gave you my everything last night. Where would I even find the energy? Besides, I promised you I wouldn’t touch her.” I covered my mouth, forcing myself not to make a sound. Ever since we got engaged, our intimacy had dwindled to almost nothing. We hadn’t slept together in over a month. He had always been a man with a high sex drive. But when he used the “I’m just too stressed with work” excuse, I had actually believed him. They flirted and made out inside for a while longer. By the time they came out, I was already back on the couch. Ethan had a faint smear of pink lipstick on his collar and the corner of his mouth. I pulled out a tissue and handed it to him. “Look at you. You’re a grown man, yet you still eat like a kid. What did you sneak into?” I let the double meaning hang in the air. Ethan panicked, grabbing his phone screen to use as a mirror, frantically wiping his mouth. “Oh, uh, I must have gotten some of your lipstick on me when I washed my hands.” I didn’t call him out. Rachel couldn’t stand being there any longer. She adjusted her smudged lipstick and said: “Chloe, I have some errands to run. I should go.” She practically fled the house. Behind Ethan’s back, a slow, cold smile crept onto my face. I turned off the television, picked up my phone, and permanently deleted the engagement video. Ethan noticed. “Chloe, why did you delete our engagement video? I thought that was your favorite.” I looked him straight in the eyes, my smile not reaching my eyes. “I don’t like it anymore. Besides, the wedding video in a few weeks will be much more exciting. That’s the one worth keeping.” My words were smooth and flawless. The brief suspicion in Ethan’s mind quickly dissolved. Since it was his day off, he spent the afternoon begging me to go out with him. “Chloe, I’ve been so busy with work lately. I know I’ve neglected you. There’s a new movie playing today, and I already bought the tickets. Let’s go.” The rejection at the tip of my tongue was swallowed back down. Ethan hated shopping and movies. I wanted to see what kind of game he was playing today. Was this guilt after cheating, or did he have another motive? I bypassed the rows of white dresses in my closet and threw on a casual, oversized sweater and jeans. When I walked out to the hallway balcony, I saw Ethan looking down at his phone, a massive grin on his face as he texted someone. The moment I stepped downstairs, he quickly put his phone away. “Chloe, why aren’t you wearing a dress? I always love seeing you in white sundresses.” Without looking up, I pulled out a dusty pair of sneakers from the closet. “I suddenly don’t like them anymore.” “Ethan, don’t you think it’s weird? People can change overnight. The things we used to love can suddenly mean absolutely nothing to us.” Ethan’s body stiffened for a fraction of a second before he forced a smile. On the drive to the mall, he kept glancing over at me. Unable to stand his fake face, I simply closed my eyes and pretended to sleep. Once we arrived at the mall, he held my hand tightly, as if he was terrified I would run away. “Ethan, you’ve been acting so strange lately. Did you do something wrong? Is this your way of making it up to me?” I looked at him with a smile. His grip on my hand tightened, and beads of sweat began to form on his forehead. “I’m just kidding. Look how nervous you are. Don’t tell me you actually did something?” He swallowed hard. Before he could answer, a familiar voice called out from behind us. “Chloe!”

I turned around. It was Rachel, wearing a sweet smile as she walked toward us. More accurately, her eyes were locked onto Ethan. I couldn’t help but shake my head inwardly. How had I been so blind to such obvious looks before? “Chloe, what a coincidence! Are you guys shopping too? Let’s walk together.” Rachel grabbed my arm, and almost instantly, she and Ethan started their usual bickering routine. “Let go of her. I want to walk with Chloe.” “Why should I? Chloe is my best friend. If anyone should let go, it’s you.” I glanced at Ethan. He was really committed to this act, wasn’t he? In the end, I had no choice but to walk in the middle, with Ethan on my right and Rachel on my left. When we reached the restaurant, Ethan pulled out his VIP card. The hostess bowed slightly. “Mr. Vance, correct? Your table for three is ready. Right this way.” Hearing that, everything clicked. This was never a romantic date night for the two of us. It was just a cover so he could openly go on a date with Rachel with me as his shield. Ethan’s face flushed red and white. “You must have made a mistake. I booked a table for two.” I waved my hand, too exhausted to play along with his embarrassment. “It’s fine. Rachel is here anyway, so we have exactly three people. It worked out perfectly.” Ethan had pre-ordered the food. As the dishes were served, I realized almost all of them were tailored to Rachel’s taste. “No peanuts in this one, please. Can you swap it for another dish?” Ethan pointed at one of the plates and told the waiter. I kept my mouth shut, quietly setting down my fork. Only after speaking did Ethan realize how natural his tone had been. Seeing that my expression was neutral, he quickly tried to explain: “I remembered you’re allergic to peanuts, so I wanted to make sure the kitchen got it right.” I gave a soft hum. Out of the three of us, Rachel was the only one with a severe peanut allergy. After dinner, Ethan went to get the movie tickets. Coincidentally, Rachel pulled out her phone and showed me her ticket—which was for the same movie, in the seat right next to ours. “Chloe, we are seriously soulmates!” I brushed a strand of hair behind my ear, not even blinking. “You and Ethan are the soulmates. He’s the one who bought the tickets.” Rachel’s smile faltered. “Ugh, I would never want to be soulmates with that annoying jerk.” During the entire movie, my mind was miles away. Meanwhile, Ethan and Rachel were whispering and giggling, discussing the plot with great enthusiasm. When the movie ended and we walked out of the dark theater, the dim lighting made it hard to see. I stumbled slightly. But in the light from a passing screen, I saw Ethan holding Rachel’s hand tightly to guide her. My hands clenched into fists at my sides. “It’s still early, Chloe. Let’s go look at wedding bands. The wedding is this weekend. I can’t believe it’s finally happening!” The excitement on Ethan’s face felt incredibly surreal. Inside the jewelry store, the sales associate brought out the latest seasonal collection for us to choose from. I had zero interest. I tried on a few pieces half-heartedly, not liking any of them. “Oh, I think this one is gorgeous! Whoever marries me in the future has to get me this ring,” Rachel exclaimed, admiring a diamond ring on her finger and flaunting it in Ethan’s direction. In the end, we didn’t buy anything. But after we got into the car, Ethan claimed he forgot something and ran back into the store. When he returned, he was holding a small shopping bag. He pulled out a box and put a necklace around my neck. “I saw this necklace just now and thought it would look perfect on you. I was right.” He tossed his coat onto the back seat, giving Rachel a subtle, reassuring glance. I opened my phone camera under the pretense of taking a selfie, only to spot the corner of a ring box tucked deep inside his coat pocket. Fast forward to the day before the wedding. According to tradition, the bride and groom shouldn’t see each other. I packed all my belongings, left the necklace and my keys on the kitchen counter, and walked out without looking back. The next morning, Ethan received a FaceTime call from the wedding planner. “Mr. Vance, I just wanted to do a final check with you. The bride’s name is Rachel, correct?”

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I woke up, back on the morning of our wedding anniversary. In my past life, I had booked a restaurant a week in advance. I even spent hours in the kitchen making his favorite Beef Bourguignon from scratch. At 3:00 PM, I sent him a message: “7:00 PM tonight. Our usual spot. I’ll be waiting.” He didn’t reply. It wasn’t until 5:00 PM that he sent a voice note. “Clara, baby, I’m so sorry. An important client just flew in. I’ll try my best to make it, but go ahead and eat without me. Don’t wait up.” And I, like a fool, replied, “It’s okay. Work comes first. I’ll wait for you until nine.” At 9:00 PM, I drove to our second home—the new apartment we bought. And there, through the bedroom door, I heard Chloe Miller’s giggles and Ethan Sterling’s deep, breathless voice. I heard the words that carved themselves into my bones: “She’s got nothing on you. You’re so much better in bed.” I couldn’t even remember how I rushed out of the building. I only remembered the screeching of tires on the asphalt. And the memory of the text message I saw on Ethan’s phone later. It read: “Babe, our usual spot tonight. Miss you.” The timestamp was 4:20 PM. Right after I told him, “See you at our usual spot at 7:00 PM,” he turned around and invited his “babe” to another “usual spot.” Chloe Miller was Ethan’s college junior. She used to chase him back in school, then moved abroad. Last year, she returned and immediately joined Ethan’s company as his personal assistant. During a company party, Ethan brought me along, and Chloe was there too. She smiled sweetly, calling me “Clara” with false intimacy, but the look in her eyes whenever she watched Ethan was dripping with undisguised lust. At the time, I brushed it off as innocent admiration. I didn’t think twice. But then, Ethan started bringing her up more and more. “Chloe is really capable. She took a lot off my plate.” “Chloe stayed up all night helping me prep this report. I should take her out for dinner to thank her.” And back then, I foolishly chimed in, “Oh, you definitely should. Make sure to thank her properly.” Looking back, it was all just a cheap affair hidden behind the excuse of work. I opened my contacts and called Harper Davis. She was my best friend and ran a highly successful digital media company focusing on women’s lifestyle and relationship content. “Hello? Clara? Why are you up so early? Did the sun rise in the west today?” Harper teased over the phone. “Doesn’t my favorite stay-at-home wife usually sleep in?” “Harper,” I said, my voice hoarse. “I need a favor.” Harper immediately picked up on my tone. “What’s wrong? Did Ethan screw up again?” “Worse than that.” I took a deep breath. “I want to do a livestream.” “But you hate being on camera! You wouldn’t even show up for my company’s annual gala last month,” Harper said, confused. “I’m livestreaming a cheating husband,” I said flatly. A few seconds of dead silence followed. Then, Harper’s voice dropped to a harsh whisper. “Clara, what the hell did you just say? Say that again. Ethan… is cheating?” “Yes.” I walked to my vanity and sat down. “And today is our wedding anniversary. He booked a date with Chloe at their little love nest tonight.” “Holy shit!” Harper cursed. “Chloe? That thirsty college junior of his?” “That absolute dog! Where are you? I’m coming over right now!” “Don’t come over,” I interrupted. “I need you to set up a livestream for me. “The equipment needs to be discreet, the video quality has to be crystal clear, and the audio needs to be perfect. Multiple angles, if possible. “I also need a reliable tech team to manage the stream in real-time. Make sure it doesn’t get shut down. “And most importantly, I need clout. “I want this stream to hit number one on trending.” A cold smile crept onto my lips. “The title will be… ‘Anniversary Surprise: Let’s see what my husband got me today.’” “Clara…” Harper’s voice cracked slightly. “Are you sure about this? Blowing this up in public won’t do you any favors. “We can find another way. Collect evidence, hire a lawyer, clean him out in the divorce…” “Clean him out?” I laughed. “Harper, I don’t just want his money. “I want him ruined. I want both of them to never be able to hold their heads up in public again. “I can make my own money. But this rage? I have to let it out. “Fine. My tech team has the gear. We can handle it.” “Wait for me. I’ll bring the team and the gear to your place in two hours.” “No,” I refused. “Don’t come to my house. Let’s meet somewhere else.” “Alright. 9:00 AM at the coffee shop downstairs from my office.” “Deal.” I hung up. The plan was in motion. Ethan, you like playing time manager? Let’s play.

Inside the private room of the coffee shop, Harper was already waiting with a man and a woman. “Clara!” Harper stood up the moment she saw me, pulling me into a seat. “This is Justin Carter, our head of tech. He’s a genius with livestreams. “And this is Mia Taylor, our live producer. She’s incredibly quick on her feet.” She turned to them. “This is my best friend, Clara Vance.” Harper looked at me, her eyes filled with worry. “Clara, have you really thought this through? “The gossip, the pointing fingers… it’s going to follow you for a long time.” I met her gaze dead-on. “Harper, I passed the point of no return a long time ago. “I’m not the one who should feel embarrassed. The cheaters are. As for the gossip…” I let out a cold laugh. “As long as I live a better, more glamorous life than them, words can’t hurt me.” Harper didn’t say anything else. She just squeezed my hand tightly. I looked at the laptop screen. Several major relationship gossip accounts with millions of followers on Twitter had already started posting teasers: “Tonight at 8:00 PM, tune in to @NeverForget for a very special ‘Anniversary Surprise.’ You don’t want to miss this!” “A romantic proposal or a total train wreck? Stay tuned!” “Marriage is a gamble. Do you dare to see the cards? Tonight’s livestream exposes the truth behind the perfect husband.” “She thought she married for love, but on their anniversary, she uncovered a shocking secret…” The hype was instant. The comment sections were already flooded with speculation. [An anniversary livestream? Sounds juicy!] [Is this scripted?] [Setting my alarm. I’m ready for the drama.] [If this is just some cheesy couple goals video at the end, I’m unfollowing!] The storm was brewing. Looking at the metrics, Harper said, “The engagement is crazy. At this rate, the live viewer count will be massive when we go live. “Clara, what’s your next move?” “I need to get him to confirm tonight’s date on tape,” I said. “And I need to catch him and Chloe on camera together. “His phone definitely has more evidence, but I can’t get to it. “Tonight, I’m going to make him expose himself.” Harper frowned. “Are you going to tail him? Driving your own car is too risky. A taxi isn’t reliable either.” I had already planned for this. “Ethan’s car has a GPS tracker. I installed it for safety reasons a while ago, and he probably forgot it even exists. “I can see his real-time location. “Plus, I rented an unremarkable sedan with standard plates. “I’ll park near his office ahead of time.” With everything set, we left the coffee shop. I picked up the rental car, sat in the driver’s seat, and buckled up. The car rolled toward Ethan’s office building. I found a spot with a clear view of the parking garage exit and waited. I opened Snapchat and sent Ethan a message. “Happy anniversary, babe! I booked a table for us at 7:00 PM. Our usual spot.” The message was sent. Silence. I switched to the livestream dashboard. The pre-live hype was still climbing. The hashtag had already cracked the top ten local trending topics. Some skeptical comments started appearing, calling it clout-chasing or a PR stunt. Harper used her burner accounts to steer the conversation: “Scripted or not, we’ll find out tonight. If it’s real, I hope she stays strong.” “Waiting for the receipts. Too many trash men out there lately.” “If this is real, he deserves to be canceled!” At 1:00 PM, Ethan finally replied. Just two words: “Busy now.” I took a screenshot and saved it. At 3:00 PM, he sent another message. “Got a dinner meeting with a client tonight. Can’t make it. Go ahead and eat. Don’t wait up.” I replied, keeping my tone intentionally sad but understanding: “Oh… okay. Work is important. Come home early when you’re done. I’ll wait for you.” He replied with a thumbs-up emoji. It wasn’t until 4:30 PM that the red dot on my tracking app finally started moving. I started the engine and followed him from a safe distance. Eventually, his car pulled into a luxury gated community called The Lumina. The security was incredibly tight. My rental car couldn’t get past the gates. I parked outside, in a spot where I had a clear view of the main entrance. I picked up my phone and sent a voice note to Harper, my voice steady. “He’s inside. I can’t get past the gate, so I’m waiting outside. You can start the countdown for the stream.” Harper replied almost instantly: “Got it. Have you checked the gear? How are you holding up?” “Gear is good. I’m fine.” I watched the security guards standing at attention. “This place has high security. I bet he plans on spending the night here. “I need to find a way in, or wait for him to come out.” “Safety first! Don’t force your way in!” Harper warned. “I know.” By 6:30 PM, the tracker showed that Ethan’s location hadn’t moved. I opened the livestream app. Justin had the stream key ready, and Harper messaged me: “The hype is at its peak. Thousands are waiting. We can go live anytime. When do you want to start?” “A little longer,” I replied. “Let’s wait until he comes out, or until I find a way in. I want absolute proof.”

By 7:30 PM, the sky was completely dark. The heavy iron gates of the community opened, and that familiar black Mercedes rolled out. Sitting in the passenger seat was Chloe Miller. I immediately started my engine and followed them. At the same time, I opened the app and hit “Go Live.” The camera pointed at me, and through the windshield, it captured the car ahead. I forced a sad, resolute smile for the camera. “Hi everyone, I’m Clara. Today is my third wedding anniversary. “Right now, I’m on my way to give my husband an ‘anniversary surprise.’ “I hope you can all bear witness with me.” The viewer count began to skyrocket. Comments started flooding the screen like a tidal wave. I looked at the rapidly scrolling text, keeping my voice in a state of controlled trembling. “A lot of you are asking where I’m going. “Do you see the car in front of me? “That is my husband’s car. “The girl in the passenger seat is his assistant, Chloe Miller. “Twenty minutes ago, they walked out of The Lumina together. “Yes, that luxury condo complex where units start at three million dollars.” The chat went wild: [Holy shit! Starting off with a bang?!] [The Lumina? Isn’t that mistress central?] [So on their anniversary, the husband takes his side piece out of a luxury condo? Real life is wilder than fiction!] [Her voice is shaking. I feel so bad for her…] [Wait, is this legal? Is she tracking him?] The moderators Harper set up immediately pinned a comment: [This stream has been legally cleared. The stream is strictly for securing evidence of marital misconduct to protect the spouse’s legal rights.] [Please stay respectful and respect privacy.] I continued, “This morning, I texted my husband. “I reminded him it was our anniversary and booked his favorite restaurant. “This afternoon, he told me he had a client meeting and couldn’t make it. “And now, it seems Miss Miller is his client.” The Mercedes finally parked in front of a high-end French bistro. It was a trendy, overhyped Michelin-star restaurant that required reservations a month in advance. When I had asked to go there last month, Ethan had told me it was “too much hassle and not worth it.” The car doors opened. Ethan walked around to the passenger side, gallantly opening the door for Chloe. Chloe stepped out, laughing, and naturally wrapped her arm around his. I parked the car, grabbed my purse containing the hidden camera, and stepped out. As I walked, the camera captured the clear view of the two of them walking arm-in-arm into the restaurant. The chat was in absolute chaos: [Busted! Look at that! Colleagues? My ass!] [Ditching his wife on their anniversary to take his mistress to a fancy dinner? Trash bag behavior!] [That girl looks familiar… is she that influencer?] [Stay strong, girl! We got your back!] [Go in there and rip them apart!]

I didn’t follow them in immediately. I spoke softly into the microphone. “They’re inside. I wanted to come to this restaurant with him, but he told me he hated it. “I guess he didn’t hate the restaurant. He just hated the person he’d be eating with.” My voice carried a perfect touch of heartbreak, but there were no tears on my face. “Now, I’m going in. I want to ask him myself if Miss Miller is indeed his most important ‘client’ tonight.” I walked into the restaurant. The host greeted me. I gave him Ethan’s name. “My husband booked a table. Ethan Sterling.” The host checked the system, his expression turning slightly awkward. “Mr. Sterling booked a table for two. By the window. May I ask who you…” “I’m his wife,” I said with a sweet smile. “I’m here to surprise him.” The host hesitated for a second but ultimately led me over. Ethan was the first to see me. The smile on his face froze instantly. A flash of panic crossed Chloe’s face, but she quickly masked it, replacing it with a smug, mocking look. The chat: [Look at his face! He looks like he saw a ghost!] [The mistress is actually smirking? The audacity!] [Stay calm, Clara! Destroy them!] Ethan stood up, his face darkening. “Clara? What are you doing here?” “What am I doing here?” I repeated his words, my voice terrifyingly calm. “On our wedding anniversary, I couldn’t find my husband. My tracker showed him at The Lumina, and then I saw his car pull up here. “Ethan, don’t you think you owe me an explanation?” The surrounding diners began to whisper, turning their heads to watch. Ethan lowered his voice, his tone laced with anger. “Are you tracking me? Have you lost your mind? We are going home to talk about this!” “Go home?” I laughed. “Which home? Our apartment, or your little love nest at The Lumina?” Chloe stood up then, putting on her best innocent, victimized act. “Clara, you’ve got this all wrong. “Ethan and I were just discussing a project. The launch went really well today, so Ethan offered to buy me dinner to celebrate. “We…” “Does discussing projects require wrapping your arm around his?” I cut her off, my eyes locking onto her hand, which was still lightly touching Ethan’s sleeve. Chloe’s face flushed red, then turned pale. Ethan yanked his arm away from Chloe’s touch and tried to grab my wrist. “Clara, stop making a scene! This is embarrassing! “Chloe is just my assistant. We were genuinely talking about work! Stop being so dramatic!” “Dramatic?” I pulled up the screen of my phone, displaying the evidence right in front of him. “Ethan! Today is our third wedding anniversary! “I booked a restaurant and waited for you, and you told me you were too busy! “I worried about you working too hard, while you were busy taking another woman out of your private condo for a romantic dinner! “Is this your anniversary gift to me?”

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Five years after our divorce, I ran into my ex-husband at a 24-hour convenience store at three in the morning. He was there to buy sanitary pads and painkillers for his wife. I was restocking the shelves. He was in such a rush that he told me he didn’t even need a black bag to cover them. But when our eyes met, he froze. “Chloe? How… how have you been?” I instinctively pulled my sleeve down to hide the scars on my wrist. Without a word, I scanned the items and bagged them. He didn’t leave. His voice was hoarse as he asked, “Are you… do you still hate me?” I shook my head. Maybe I hated him back when he used his power as the country’s leading psychiatrist to lock me in a private asylum. But now? I didn’t care about him at all. “Your wife is waiting for you at home. You should go,” I said flatly. I turned back to organizing the shelves. But Julian didn’t move. Watching my practiced movements, his voice trembled. “Chloe, if you need help, please call me.” “Take this card. The PIN is your birthday. Your health is fragile; you shouldn’t be doing such exhausting work.” How ironic. When we divorced, Julian forced me to sign a waiver leaving me with absolutely nothing. Now, he was trying to buy his peace of mind with a credit card. Seeing that I ignored him, Julian opened his mouth to say more, but a customized ringtone cut him off. Tiffany’s weak, whiny voice came through the speaker. “Babe, why aren’t you back yet? I miss you so much.” “My stomach hurts…” Julian gripped his phone tightly. “I’m on my way.” The call ended. He picked up his bags from the counter. “Can I at least have your Snapchat?” I remained silent. His phone started ringing again. Julian had no choice but to head for the exit. Before leaving, he slipped a business card onto the counter. His voice sounded choked. “Call me. Please?” The moment the door closed, I threw his card straight into the trash can. Four years ago, when my dad was on his deathbed, I had called Julian. I begged him to help transfer my dad to a better hospital. But Julian had hung up on me without hesitation and blocked my number. Now, my dad had been dead for four years. I had absolutely no reason to ever contact Julian again. After finishing my shift, I did the handover with my coworker, Mia. She sighed. “That guy in the custom designer suit… was that Dr. Vance? The one who’s always on the news?” “He didn’t even care about the bag, he just rushed home. He must really love his wife.” I nodded. “Yeah.” He did love his wife. At least during our five years of marriage, he had never let me shed a single tear. Seeing my cold reaction, Mia quickly changed the subject. “Today is your last day, right? The boss told me you’re heading abroad to study.” “I wish you all the best, Chloe.” “Thank you,” I said with a smile. When I walked out of the store, the sun was just beginning to rise. I walked back to my run-down, rented apartment and carefully wiped the dust off my dad’s portrait. “Dad, I ran into Julian today.” “But don’t worry. I won’t let someone like him affect me ever again.” I poured a glass of his favorite whiskey and set it in front of his photo. My hand shook slightly, and the picture frame next to it fell to the floor. The faded photograph showed an eighteen-year-old Julian and me. He wasn’t looking at the camera. He was staring at me, his eyes full of pure adoration. And on my other side was Tiffany, smiling shyly. She was the scholarship student my dad had sponsored. My former best friend. And now, Julian’s wife.

Julian and I grew up together. His parents were heavy gamblers who beat him whenever things went wrong. My dad couldn’t stand it, so he often brought Julian to our house for meals. Julian was quiet, but he treated me like I was his entire world. When my dad made fish, Julian would spend fifteen minutes picking out every single bone before putting the fish on my plate. He would collect plastic bottles and cardboard to sell, saving every penny just to buy me the hair clips and plushies I liked. I used to tease him and call him my silly boy. He never got mad. He would just look at me and smile. After his parents died in a drunk driving accident, my dad officially adopted him. Over the next few years, Julian blossomed. My dad’s business grew rapidly, too. But both of them loved me just as much as they always had. It wasn’t until high school that my dad expanded his charity foundation to sponsor more students. Tiffany was one of them. She wore thick glasses and washed-out clothes. Just like the old Julian, she was quiet and withdrawn. A girl like her was an easy target for bullies at our private prep school. Julian, who usually minded his own business, unexpectedly stepped in to protect her. Only then did we learn about her life. Her father was also a gambler, and her mother had abandoned her. Her family valued boys over girls, and her father had almost sold her to pay his debts. Their identical trauma triggered Julian’s savior complex. I realized he wasn’t just helping Tiffany; he was trying to save his younger self. So, I reached out and became friends with Tiffany, too. Whatever I bought for myself, I bought a copy for her. I invited her to our house for dinner almost every weekend. Gradually, the bullying stopped. Until… A knock on the door snapped me out of my memories. I opened it to find Julian and Tiffany standing outside. When Julian saw me, his eyes filled with pain and guilt. “Chloe… how can you live in a place like this?” It was a sketchy neighborhood. The apartment was tiny and poorly furnished. You could see the entire place in one glance. There was a folding cot in the living room. That was where my dad had slept after he got out of prison. Even though his health had been destroyed by his time behind bars, he had insisted on giving the only bedroom to me. I didn’t want these people dirtying my dad’s peace. I blocked the doorway, my face cold. “What do you want?” Tiffany was dressed in head-to-toe Chanel, looking every bit the pampered wife. She was unrecognizable from the timid girl she used to be. “Chloe, why so cold?” Tiffany smirked. “If Julian hadn’t run into you, I’d still think you were locked up in the asylum.” She handed me a beautifully wrapped gift box. It was a necklace from a luxury brand I had designed years ago. Back then, I was hailed as a prodigy designer. My brand was on its way to becoming a global luxury powerhouse. But it was completely ruined the moment Julian personally signed the papers to lock me away. Tiffany stared at me, waiting for me to lose my mind. I just stared back at her, completely calm. Before I could say a word, Julian looked down and noticed the photo in my hand. A spark of hope lit up his eyes. “You still kept that photo? Does that mean…” Only then did I realize I hadn’t thrown the old photo away yet. Without hesitation, I ripped the picture to shreds and threw it into the trash can. Right on top of Tiffany’s gift box. “That brand used to be my hard work,” I said, looking up with a faint smile. “And that photo used to be my favorite memory.” “But once something gets dirty, I throw it away.” Julian’s face went deadly pale. It was obvious he knew that the “dirty things” I was talking about included him. Tiffany’s smile stiffened. She said petulantly, “We just came to catch up. You don’t have to be so hostile.” She peered over my shoulder, and her eyes lit up when she saw my dad’s photo. “After all, your dad was our benefactor. We should pay our respects.” Benefactor? The man she personally framed and sent to prison was her benefactor? After high school, Tiffany and Julian went to the same university. I gave up my Ivy League offer to go to a local college just to be close to Julian. Naturally, we got married. But Julian became busier and busier. Tiffany, who shared his major, was with him day and night. Slowly, I found myself locked out of their conversations. Even on our anniversary, Tiffany showed up. “I’m so sorry, Chloe. Julian and I have a major research competition tomorrow,” she had said, batting her eyelashes. “I had to come find him. I really didn’t mean to crash your date.” She had ditched her glasses for contacts and styled her hair perfectly. She looked more like the girlfriend on an anniversary date than I did. They grew closer, but I kept telling myself that Julian was my husband. Then came the day of our wedding. My dad caught Julian cheating with Tiffany. But because my dad knew how desperately I loved Julian, he privately confronted Tiffany and demanded she leave. Tiffany refused. She tore her own clothes open and screamed. She accused my dad of sexual assault. Before our wedding reception even ended, the police dragged my dad away in handcuffs. I knew my dad would never do such a thing. I begged Julian to help me clear his name. He promised he would, but behind my back, he destroyed the security footage that could have proven my dad’s innocence. “Chloe, you have money, you have status! But Tiffany has nothing!” Julian had yelled at me. “If people find out she lied, her life will be over!”

But what about my dad’s life? Was it my fault she had nothing? But the more I screamed and fought, the more disgusted Julian looked. The final string in my mind snapped when I walked into our new house and found Julian and Tiffany in our bed. Tiffany cowered behind Julian. “Julian has so much pressure as a psychiatrist. I was just helping him decompress.” I lost control. I smashed everything in sight and slapped both of them repeatedly. I filed for divorce and posted the evidence of their affair on Snapchat and TikTok. They became the most hated scumbags online. But to save Tiffany’s reputation, Julian used his credentials to diagnose me with severe clinical psychosis. He had me committed. “Just stay there quietly for two years,” Julian had told me coldly. “Once the public forgets about this, I’ll let you out. You’ll still be my wife.” I was completely dead inside. All I wanted was a divorce. Julian, who rarely lost his temper, said through gritted teeth, “Divorce? Only if you sign this waiver and leave with nothing.” I signed it. But I didn’t expect him to send me to a private, abusive asylum in the middle of nowhere. It was a living hell. If we didn’t obey, we were electrocuted or whipped. We had to beg for food like dogs. If we displeased the guards, we had to search the trash for scraps. Tiffany would visit occasionally to brag about how much Julian loved her. She showed off the designer bags he bought her and the magazines they featured in. One day, she forced me to kneel and lick her designer shoes. “I always hated your arrogant, rich-girl attitude,” Tiffany sneered. “In high school, you acted like a saint, throwing your charity scraps at me. You thought you were so better than me just because of your dad’s money?” So that was how she viewed my kindness. She took photos of my pathetic state and sent them to my dad. Within a year, my dad died of a stress-induced heart attack in prison. And now, the monster who killed my dad wanted to “pay respects.” What a joke. I had no patience left for them. “Get out.” I closed the door right in their faces. I immediately called building security and had them escorted out of the complex. Once Tiffany’s muffled, angry screams faded from the hallway, I finished packing. I only took a few essentials and my dad’s photo. I left everything else behind. I took a cab straight to the airport. As I was checking my bags, someone called my name. “Chloe? What a coincidence.” I looked up and smiled. “Hey, Ethan.” Ethan Montgomery looked at my boarding pass and raised an eyebrow. “I’m flying to London too. Looks like we’re on the same flight.” He suggested we walk together, and I didn’t object. On the way to security, he asked softly, “You missed your last therapy session. How are you feeling lately?” After my dad died, I was in a dark place. The day I found out Julian and Tiffany had gotten married, I walked to the edge of a bridge, ready to jump. It was Ethan who grabbed my hand. He had smiled warmly, though his hands were shaking. “It’s my birthday today, and I have no one to spend it with. You look lonely too. Want to share a cake with me?” I didn’t know if he was lying, but I ended up crying and telling him everything. Even though he wasn’t my official therapist, he became my emotional anchor. “Thanks to you, I think I’m finally healed,” I told him. He looked at me, a soft smile on his lips. “So… you don’t need me anymore?” Before I could answer, a familiar, breathless voice shattered the moment. “Chloe! Where are you going? And who is he?” Julian ran up to us, his eyes bloodshot, breathing heavily. He looked terrified of my answer. I was exhausted by his persistence. I reached out, locked my fingers with Ethan’s, and said word for word, “This is my husband.”

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Eight years ago, we were the golden couple on the cover of our university’s alumni magazine. Yesterday, the editor-in-chief of a major financial magazine emailed me, asking for a follow-up interview. I typed out a quick reply: “Go interview Ethan’s new wife. We’re getting a divorce.” Two weeks ago, our company finally went public on the Nasdaq. Ethan didn’t even bother to send me an invitation to the ringing ceremony. Instead, he transferred my 50% of the founding shares—shares that legally belonged to me—straight to his secretary, Lacey Carter. I stormed into the boardroom with the agreement to confront him. In front of the entire board of directors, he slapped me across the face. “Lacey stays up all night networking and closing deals for me. What do you do besides spend my money, Chloe?” He seemed to have forgotten that the core AI algorithm—the very foundation of the company’s tech—was written entirely by me. “Security, please escort Ms. Chloe out.” Lacey walked in, her high heels clicking loudly against the marble floor. She held an oat milk latte in her hand, complete with a handwritten label on the cup. That was my cup. My exact custom order. The handwriting on the label copied mine, but the strokes dragged downward at the end—my habit was always to flick them upward. She sat down to Ethan’s right. That was my seat. I had sat in that chair for seven years, leaving a faint scratch on the backrest from my favorite jacket. “Ethan,” she whispered, leaning in and acting cute, “it looks like Ms. Chloe hasn’t left yet.” Ethan shook his hand—the same hand he had just used to hit me. “Didn’t you hear her?” The twelve board members kept their heads down, suddenly finding their bottles of sparkling water incredibly fascinating. I clutched the share transfer agreement, the corners damp with my sweat. “Ethan, every single line of the underlying architecture of this company’s AI core was written by—” “Enough.” His face looked as bored as if he were listening to a broken record. “It’s just a few lines of code, Chloe. We have a team of hundreds of engineers. Do you really think the world stops spinning without you?” Lacey handed him a glass of water. He took it and took a sip. That was when I noticed the pink diamond necklace around her neck. I had bought that piece myself with my own savings at a private auction last year for three hundred and eighty thousand dollars. One morning, it vanished from my jewelry box. When I asked Ethan, he said the housekeeper must have misplaced it. So, it was around her neck all along. I turned and walked toward the door. “Wait a minute,” Lacey called out. “Let’s handle one more little thing while you’re here.” She dialed a number and put it on speaker. “Parker, come up to the 18th-floor boardroom. Now.” Parker was our third employee. He was the backbone of the tech department. He had worked under me for five years and co-authored thirty percent of the AI modules. Two minutes later, he pushed the door open. When he saw me, he froze. “Chloe? What happened to your face—” “Parker.” Lacey crossed her legs, tapping her fingernails on the desk. “As of today, your position is eliminated.” “What?” “Post-IPO restructuring. You’re simply too tied to the old team. You don’t fit our new direction.” When she said “the old team,” she looked at me with a smirk. Parker turned to Ethan. “Mr. Vance, I’ve been here for five years. The core algorithms—” “Lacey ran the evaluation,” Ethan said, not even looking up as he signed a document. “Your skills no longer match our growth. Keeping you is a waste of company resources. One month’s severance. Sign the papers and get out.” Parker’s hands shook. He looked at me, his eyes turning red. I caught his gaze and gently shook my head to stop him from saying anything more. “Let’s go, Parker.” Once we got out of the building, he caught up with me in the parking lot. “Chloe, how can he do this? Your name is on those patent filings! Your digital footprint is all over that code—” “I know.” My phone buzzed. It was a notification from the company’s Snapchat group. Lacey had posted a photo. She was sitting at my desk, with the roses I had nurtured for three years blooming in the background. Her caption: *So grateful for this new journey.* Parker saw it too. The veins on his neck bulged with rage. “Chloe, who does this bitch think she is—” “Parker,” I cut him off, my voice raw. “Go home. Don’t do anything rash. Just wait for my message.”

“Ma’am, your key fob access was deactivated this morning.” The concierge at my luxury apartment building stopped me, flipping through his logbook. “The primary owner filed the request. Mr. Vance said… you are no longer a resident of this building.” I stood in the lobby. The chilly May evening breeze blew in through the automatic doors. My phone rang. It was Lacey. “Chloe, sweetie, did you just get back to the building?” She sounded as sweet as a best friend. “I’m so sorry about this. Ethan said you two need some space, so he asked me to help pack up your things.” “Everything is boxed up and stored in the basement locker. You can just grab it directly from the front desk.” I was silent for two seconds. “Are you in my apartment?” “Yeah. Ethan asked me to move in temporarily to make working together easier.” I heard her rustling through some hangers on her end. “Oh, by the way, Chloe, that camel cashmere coat in your closet—what brand is it? I couldn’t find the tag.” “Ethan said you bought it yourself, so it wasn’t a gift from him—which means I don’t mind borrowing it for a couple of days.” I hung up, went down to the basement, and retrieved my things. Eight cardboard boxes were piled in the corner of the storage locker. Two of them were crushed. I opened the top one. Right on top was our framed wedding photo. The glass was shattered, the shards piercing into the printed faces of Ethan and me standing side-by-side. Below it were a few pieces of clothing Lacey hadn’t bothered to steal. The second box contained my work files. But something was missing. My blue leather journal. The development log for Project Three. Handwritten. The very first page held the first line of pseudo-code I had written in my dorm room eight years ago. That journal was the ultimate proof of who created the technology. It wasn’t in any of the boxes. I called Ethan. “Where is my development log? The blue leather one.” “What log?” his voice was completely indifferent. “Project Three. My handwritten notes, from the first architectural sketches to—” “No idea. Ask Lacey.” “Ethan, that log is the source of all the company’s IP!” “It’s just an old notebook. Who cares if it’s lost? Can you stop being so paranoid all the time?” He hung up. I stood in the dim locker room, staring at the eight cardboard boxes. Eight years of my life, packed into eight boxes. And two of them were crushed. I called an Uber to take the boxes to a boutique hotel. When I tried to swipe my credit card at check-in, it was declined. I called the bank. “Ma’am, your status as an authorized user on this account was revoked by the primary cardholder this morning.” I handed the receptionist my personal debit card. “Ma’am, a large transfer was made from this account today. Your balance is insufficient.” “A transfer? I didn’t authorize that.” “According to our records, the transaction was initiated by the joint-account holder…” I closed my eyes. The joint-account holder was Ethan. Years ago, he told me it would make managing our household expenses easier, so I signed the authorization. Just like that power of attorney for my shares, I had signed whatever he put in front of me. Because I trusted him. I sat in the hotel lobby for a long time. Eventually, Parker wired me some money. “Chloe, use this for now. Please don’t be polite with me.” “I won’t be,” I said, taking my new room key. “When this is over, I’ll pay you back double.” “Chloe—” “Parker.” “Yeah?” “That severance agreement they gave you? Don’t sign it.”

“Ms. Chloe, the patent registry shows that the inventor information for the tech you mentioned has already been legally updated.” The clerk at the Patent and Trademark Office sounded completely professional and detached. “Updated? I never signed any transfer documents.” “Our system shows the application was submitted by Vance Technologies’ legal department. It includes a signed consent form with your signature.” “That signature is a forgery.” “I see… In that case, you will need to seek legal counsel to dispute it. We do not have the authority to handle forgery claims here—” I hung up and started calling lawyers. The first one: “Ms. Chloe, I’m so sorry, but our firm is fully booked. We cannot take on new clients at this time.” The second one: “Vance Technologies is a long-standing client of our firm. We have a conflict of interest and cannot represent you.” The third one was an old classmate from law school. She was more honest than the others. “Chloe, I’m going to be straight with you.” “Vance Technologies sent a legal warning to every major intellectual property firm in the city. Nobody wants to touch your case and risk getting blacklisted by Ethan Vance. If you want a lawyer, you’ll have to look out of state.” “When did he send that warning?” “Last month. Before the IPO.” Last month. Before I even knew my shares were being stolen, he had already blocked every exit. I put down my phone and called my college roommate, Fiona. Her cousin, Harper, worked at a top-tier IP firm in a neighboring state. The phone rang twelve times before she finally picked up. “Chloe… hey. How have you been?” “Fiona, is Harper still at her firm? I need her to—” “Chloe,” she interrupted, her voice dropping to a whisper. “Lacey took me out for high tea last week.” I froze. “She talked to me a lot. She said you haven’t been in a good headspace lately… She warned us not to trigger you.” “What exactly did she say about me?” “She said… she said you’ve convinced yourself that you built the company’s tech alone, but you actually only did a tiny fraction of the work…” “Chloe, are you—please don’t be mad, I’m just worried about you—are you sure you aren’t just misremembering things?” I didn’t say a word. Lacey had already gotten to my friends. As soon as I hung up, a new message popped up. It was from Ethan’s mother, Eleanor Vance. “Chloe, let me tell you something.” “Lacey is pregnant. Three months along.” “Ethan wants to finalize the divorce as quickly as possible.” “If you sign the papers quietly, he’ll give you a decent monthly allowance.” “I’ve always liked you, but a man changes when he has a child of his own. As a woman, you should understand that.” “If you make a scene, everyone loses face. Don’t make this ugly.” I set my phone down and turned on the TV. A financial talk show was airing. Lacey was sitting on the guest panel, wearing my camel cashmere coat. The host asked, “Ms. Carter, Vance Technologies’ AI platform is leading the industry. Can you share the journey behind developing this technology?” Lacey smiled warmly. “Well, I’ve actually been deeply involved in the core tech development for years. Ethan handles the front-end business, while I’ve been managing the heavy lifting on the backend.” I switched off the TV. My phone rang again. This time, it was an unknown number. “Ms. Chloe? This is Diana Miller, Editor-in-Chief of *Business Weekly*. I sent you an email earlier—” “Yes, I remember.” “You replied telling us to interview Ethan’s new wife.” “But we did some digging. The original patent application for Vance Technologies’ core AI was registered under your name.” “Did you develop this technology?” I stared out the window into the dark city. I paused for three seconds. “What kind of story do you want to write, Ms. Miller?” “The truth.” “Then wait.” “It’s not the right time yet.” “Ms. Chloe, this is the final draft of the divorce settlement. Please review it.” Ethan’s lawyer slid the document across the table. It was fourteen pages long. I flipped straight to the asset division section. Shares: Zero. Real Estate: Zero. (Purchased by the husband prior to the marriage; the wife has no claim). Spousal Support/Compensation: None. Living Allowance: Five thousand dollars a month, for two years. On the very last page, there was a clause in tiny print: “Non-Disclosure Agreement: The party of the second part shall not disclose any technical data, trade secrets, or operational details of the party of the first part’s company for ten years post-signing. Any violation will result in a penalty of fifty million dollars.” “Is this a joke?” I pushed the paper back, pointing at the NDA clause. The lawyer’s expression didn’t change. “Ms. Chloe, this is the most generous offer Mr. Vance is willing to make. I strongly suggest you sign it.” “Generous? Seven years of my career and marriage, and you’re telling me it’s worth five thousand a month?” “Five thousand,” the lawyer corrected me coldly. “Plus the obligation of silence.” My phone buzzed. It was Ethan. “Just sign it.” “No.” “Chloe, how are you going to fight me?” “The patents have been transferred, the shares are gone, and your accounts are empty. What do you have left?” “You and I both know who wrote those patents, Ethan.” “Who wrote them? Do you think the patent office cares about who typed the code?” “In the official registry, Lacey is the inventor. Our legal department submitted the signed paperwork with your signature.” “How are you going to prove it’s a forgery?” “Are you going to hire a lawyer? Oh, I forgot. Right now, not a single firm in this city will even take your call.” He let out a soft, mocking laugh. “Take the five thousand a month. Sign it quietly, and don’t make me make life difficult for your parents.”

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Julian and I had been together since we were eighteen. He used to do the craziest things for me. He once got into a brutal fight just to protect me, leaving a permanent scar near his temple. But by our eighth year, the spark had faded. Our relationship hit a quiet, dry plateau. When our friends brought up his past heroics, Julian would only shake his head and laugh. “I was young and stupid back then,” he’d say. “I would never do something that reckless now.” Yet, not long after, he went wild for a new medical intern in his department, beating a patient half to death to defend her. Afterward, he wept as he confessed to me, “I’m sorry, Maya. I have to take responsibility for her.” I touched his face, feeling no anger, no urge to blame him. He had no idea that my face blindness was consuming me. It had gotten so bad that I could no longer picture his face. I had completely forgotten what the scar on his temple even looked like. Driven mad by my coldness, Julian pinned me against the wall, kissing me desperately. Lost in the rush of emotion, I caressed his cheek. But the name that slipped from my lips was a whisper: “Ethan…” He froze instantly. Ethan Sinclair was his older brother. And he was the only man whose face I could still clearly see.

On the eve of our wedding, I received a call from the police department. The officer told me my fiancé, Julian, had been arrested for assault and battery. They needed me to come down to the precinct. When I arrived, I found Julian in a holding room. He was sitting on a plastic chair. His white lab coat was gone, and his button-down shirt was wrinkled and stained with blood. An older, middle-aged man sat across from him with a thick bandage taped to his forehead. The man was gesturing wildly, shouting at the officer. “I want him locked up! I don’t care if he’s a doctor! He thinks he can just beat people up? All because of that little whore…” As he cursed, he pointed toward the corner of the room. Only then did I notice someone else sitting in the shadows. It was a young girl wearing a blue hospital intern uniform. She was curled up in her chair, sobbing quietly. That was Chloe. Julian slammed his hands on the table and stood up, his voice deadly cold. “Say that again.” The man flinched, shrinking back, but his mouth didn’t stop. “I said, she dresses like she’s begging for—” Julian threw a punch. The officer nearby reacted instantly, grabbing Julian’s arm and slamming him back down. “Stop! This is a police station! Sit down!” the officer barked. Julian’s chest heaved violently as he glared at the man, his eyes wild and murderous. I stood at the doorway, watching the scene in silence. I knew that expression all too well. During our freshman year of college, I took a part-time job off-campus. One night, my boss, Mr. Harrison, cornered me in his office. He was in his late forties, and his hand kept sliding onto my thigh. “Maya, you’re a bright girl,” he had whispered, leaning so close I could feel his breath. “But talent isn’t enough in the real world. I hear your family is struggling…” I had frozen, my nails digging into my palms, terrified. Then, the door was kicked open. Julian had stormed in, his eyes bloodshot. He pulled me behind him and grabbed Mr. Harrison by the collar, slamming his fist into the man’s face. “Where the hell do you think you’re putting your hands?” he had roared. The fallout was massive. Mr. Harrison tried to get Julian expelled. The university dean called Julian in, hinting that he should apologize to save his future career. But Julian had stood in the dean’s office, his spine perfectly straight. “My future?” Julian had let out a cold laugh. “My girlfriend was sexually harassed, and you want me to worry about my career?” Back then, he had that same reckless, throw-it-all-away intensity. The exact same look he was giving that man today. “Julian Sinclair, this is your final warning!” the officer’s voice snapped me back to reality. Julian was forced back into his chair. Chloe, the intern, timidly reached out and touched his arm. Without hesitation, Julian turned to her, his gaze softening into a reassuring look. “Don’t worry,” he whispered. “I’m here.” I walked into the room.

Julian finally noticed me. His face stiffened. “Maya…” I didn’t look at him. I turned directly to the officer. “I’m sorry for the trouble.” The negotiation dragged on. The victim insisted on pressing charges, while Julian refused to apologize. Ten minutes later, the door opened, and a tall, commanding figure stepped inside. He looked like he had rushed over, yet his charcoal suit was immaculate, conveying a quiet, dangerous power. “I am Julian Sinclair’s attorney, Ethan Sinclair.” His eyes swept the room. When his gaze landed on me, he paused for a fraction of a second, giving me a polite, distant nod. Ethan was incredibly efficient. He reviewed the security footage, asked a few sharp questions, and then turned to the injured man. “According to the footage, you initiated physical harassment against this young lady. My client’s actions were an attempt to stop a crime. While his force may have been excessive…” Ethan’s voice was calm, yet filled with an undeniable threat. “…we are willing to cover your medical expenses. However, if you press charges, we will counter-sue you for sexual harassment. With this footage, your chances of winning are zero.” The man’s face paled. After a tense silence, the man signed the settlement agreement. By the time we left the precinct, the night was pitch black. Ethan’s sedan was parked by the curb. “Get in. I’ll take you home.” Julian didn’t move. Chloe stood right behind him, her eyes still red from crying. “No, go ahead,” Julian said. “I need to drop Chloe off first. She’s traumatized.” He paused, looking at me. “I’m her supervising doctor. I’m responsible for her.” Ethan’s voice dropped, laced with warning. “Julian, don’t push it.” But Julian was stubborn. “Just take Maya home, Ethan. Thanks for tonight.” Ethan frowned, about to argue, but I spoke up softly. “Let’s go, Ethan. Let Julian take her home.” Ethan gave me a long, unreadable look, but said nothing more. I got into the passenger seat. As the car pulled away, I glanced at the side mirror. Julian and Chloe were standing together in the wind. Suddenly, the face that had been engraved in my heart for eight years blurred for a split second. The next day, Julian tried to explain. He said he only pitied Chloe because she was young, naive, and had no one else to protect her in this harsh city. As her mentor, he felt obligated to help. There was nothing more to it. I nodded and said nothing. Julian let out a sigh of relief, glad I wasn’t angry, and insisted we go ahead with the wedding plans. Then, he went back to being busy. He didn’t come home for days, claiming he had back-to-back surgeries at the hospital. Until one evening, while I was home alone, the doorbell rang. I opened it. It was my second time seeing Chloe. “Maya,” she said in a small, timid voice. “Dr. Sinclair left a crucial medical file at home. The department needs it immediately, and since I live nearby, I offered to pick it up.” I found the file and handed it to her. “Is this it?” She nodded, taking it. Then, her eyes fell on the half-finished wedding invitations scattered across my dining table. She froze. I frowned. “Is there anything else?” Chloe bit her lip, twisting the hem of her shirt as if gathering courage. “Can I use your restroom? I feel… a bit sick.” I stepped aside to let her in.

She was in the bathroom for a long time. When she finally came out, her eyes were red, and her hair was damp, as if she had just splashed water on her face. “Are you okay?” I asked, feeling a spark of concern. She shook her head, forcing a weak smile. “Just an old issue. My stomach spasms when I get stressed…” She was young, probably five or six years younger than me, but there was a deep exhaustion in her eyes that didn’t match her age. The light caught her arm where her sleeve was rolled up. I saw several pale, faded scars. Noticing my gaze, she quickly pulled her sleeve down. “From high school,” she whispered, her voice flat. “Some boys cornered me in an alley on my way home. They thought I looked easy.” My breath hitched. “My family thought it was shameful,” she continued, staring at the floor. “They made me drop out for a year. When I went back, everyone whispered about me. These scars…” She gripped her arm. “…I did them to myself. Every time I remember that day, I feel dirty. I just wanted to cut that skin off.” She suddenly shook her head, forcing another smile. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. You look so happy. You’ve probably never had to deal with anything like this.” I looked at her, feeling a profound sense of helplessness. Never had to deal with this? I knew exactly what it was like. A pretty girl from a poor background has to dodge a thousand dirty hands just to grow up. I wanted to tell her, “It wasn’t your fault.” But the words felt too light, too hollow. Maybe I was just luckier than her because back then, Julian had stood in front of me and shielded me from the storm. I shook my head, my throat dry, unable to speak. She was the victim, and I was the survivor. My survival felt like a sin in front of her pain. I could only watch her cry, feeling like a useless spectator, unable to offer a single piece of comfort. Suddenly, the front door burst open. It was Julian. “What’s going on here?” his voice was tight as he looked at Chloe’s tear-stained face. Chloe quickly wiped her eyes, handing him the file. “Dr. Sinclair, here is the paperwork…” But Julian didn’t take it. His eyes fell on Chloe’s exposed arm. His pupils contracted. He whipped around to glare at me, his gaze sharp and accusatory. “What did you say to her, Maya?” Before I could answer, Chloe grabbed his arm, crying again. “No, it’s not her! It’s me… I just saw Maya’s wedding invitations, and it made me think of my past…” She covered her face, sobbing through her fingers. “I’m sorry… I shouldn’t have come. My emotions got the best of me.” Julian’s face darkened. He pulled Chloe behind him, shielding her as if she were made of glass. “Maya, why do you have to trigger her like this?” I stared at him in disbelief. “I didn’t do anything. She came for the file, I let her in. I didn’t know anything about her past. I barely said a word.” “You just stood there and said nothing?!” Julian shouted, his eyes turning red. He looked at me with pure disappointment, as if looking at a monster. “You listened to her story, and you just stood there, cold and indifferent, watching her cry?” I opened my mouth, but no sound came out. Chloe tugged at Julian’s arm, sobbing. “Please, don’t fight. It’s not Maya’s fault. She’s probably lived a perfect, happy life. It’s normal that she can’t empathize with someone like me.” Julian let out a bitter, mocking laugh. “A perfect life?” He pointed at me, his voice trembling. “I’ll tell you something, Chloe. She was just like you. Before college, her life was a living hell. She was harassed constantly, and her own stepfather used to touch her!” “She only survived because I risked my life to protect her. But I never expected this from you, Maya. You’ve stood in the rain yourself. How can you be so heartless to someone else?” I looked at Julian, suddenly feeling completely empty.

The scar on his temple caught the light, faint but there. Years ago, in front of my abusive stepfather, Julian had his head cracked open just to keep me safe. Bleeding and trembling, he had held me tight and whispered, “Maya, as long as I’m here, no one will ever hurt you again. I know how much pride you have. I promise, no one will ever know about your family.” The boy who made that promise felt so close, yet so far. That scar had been the only anchor keeping my face blindness from completely erasing him from my mind. But now… Julian’s face began to warp. His lips were moving, but his words turned into static. His sharp features melted into a blank, white fog. I couldn’t see him anymore. “Maya?!” A voice broke through the fog, tight and laced with panic. I turned toward the sound. I saw a face—sharp brows, deep-set eyes, filled with genuine concern and urgency. It looked exactly like the boy I had fallen in love with all those years ago. I stared at him, whispering, “Julian?” The moment the name left my mouth, the air in the room seemed to freeze. The man stared back at me, his eyes swirling with emotions I couldn’t comprehend. It wasn’t anger or disappointment. It was something much deeper, much heavier. I looked toward the door, confused. “Julian? Did Chloe leave? Why didn’t you walk her out?” He didn’t speak. He took a deep breath, trying to control his emotions. I reached out, taking his hand, and forced a smile. “I’m sorry. I’m bad at comforting people. Please don’t be mad at me, okay?” His entire body stiffened. After a long silence, he whispered, “I’m not mad at you.” I blinked. I noticed his temple. The skin where the scar should have been was perfectly smooth. I reached up, my fingers brushing his temple. “Did your scar heal? Does it still hurt?” “It doesn’t hurt,” he said, his voice rasper than usual. “It healed a long time ago.” My tears finally spilled over. “Hold me. I’m cold.” He hesitated for a second, then pulled me tightly into his chest. His arms wrapped around me so hard I could barely breathe. His chin rested on my head, his warm breath brushing my ear. It felt like the familiar embrace I had clung to for years. But as I closed my eyes, something felt different. His heartbeat was roaring like a drum, and he didn’t smell like Julian’s usual hospital disinfectant. He smelled like sandalwood and fresh paper. I tried to pull back to look at him, but his hand gently pressed the back of my head, keeping me close. “Don’t move,” he whispered. “Just stay like this for a while.” In his warmth, the icy weight in my chest slowly melted. I closed my eyes and fell into a deep, exhausted sleep. When I woke up, the morning sun was filtering through the blinds. I sat up, my head throbbing. I looked around and froze. This wasn’t my apartment with Julian. It was a spacious, minimalist bedroom with shelves packed with heavy legal textbooks. “You’re awake?” A voice came from the doorway.

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