Author: Momo Chan

I couldn’t sleep, so I opened my nightstand drawer, looking for a couple of melatonin gummies. The sleeping aids weren’t there. Instead, tucked in the corner, was a box of condoms. And out of the twelve-pack, only one was left. “Hey, babe, you’re back early. Why didn’t you tell me?” My husband lay on the bed, forcing a smile. I easily caught the flash of panic in his eyes. I stared at his lower body—the legs that couldn’t move—and fell into a deep silence. Ethan had been paralyzed from the waist down in a car accident two years ago. He was completely impotent. So… who used the rest of the box? 【1】 I’m a young female long-haul truck driver. Ever since we got married, I’ve spent every single day on the road, grinding to support our household. It was payday again, and the drivers were gathering for a celebratory dinner. In the world of long-haul trucking, female drivers are rare. Naturally, there are always a few sleazy bastards trying to use alcohol as an excuse to feel me up. Seeing our logistics manager, Mr. Davis, sliding another glass of whiskey toward me with a suggestive squint, Valerie, an older female driver, kindly stepped in to block him. “Let me drink that for Chloe, Mr. Davis. She’s got a long-haul run tonight.” A woman being the sole breadwinner is still a rare sight in traditional families. Valerie had asked me more than once why a young, pretty girl like me was doing such backbreaking work. With a bitter smile, I pulled out my phone and looked at the lock screen—a photo of Ethan and me. I knew exactly how brutal this job was. The flipped sleep schedules, the terrible diet, the countless nights sleeping in a freezing truck cab. The only thing keeping me going was my husband, the man who loved and supported me unconditionally. Ethan’s parents had passed away, and now he was paralyzed in bed. If I didn’t work myself to the bone, who would pay his astronomical medical bills? “Chloe, you should make time to go home more often,” Valerie said after downing the shot, her tone heavy with warning as she patted my shoulder. “Men have wild minds these days. When their wives are away, there’s no telling what kind of fun they’re having!” I just smiled and shook my head, silently rejecting Valerie’s skepticism. If it were any other man, I’d have my doubts too. But Ethan? It was impossible for him to cheat on me. He was paralyzed. He couldn’t even stand up. How could he possibly be fooling around? Valerie snorted, calling me young and naive. After her ex-husband cheated, they divorced, leaving her to raise three kids alone. That was why she drove semis, and why she had zero faith in men or romance. “He’s paralyzed, Chloe, not dead down there. You’re really that comfortable?” Speak of the devil, my phone buzzed with a FaceTime call. It was Ethan. The other female drivers teased me, laughing about how we were still in the honeymoon phase. Ethan did call me constantly to report on his day-to-day life. The other women always envied me for having such a clingy, loving husband. “Hey, why the sudden video call?” “I missed you, babe. Just wanted to see your beautiful face. Show me my wife!” Ethan’s voice sounded warm, but he was panting heavily, gasping for air as if he were in the middle of a workout. When the video connected, I saw Ethan drenched in sweat, his face flushed red. “It’s so hot today. Why didn’t you have Lily turn on the AC?” “Lily is helping me do my physical therapy,” Ethan panted, pointing the camera down slightly. “Air-cycling. Want to see?” Oh. The doctor had mentioned before that moving his legs passively was good for his circulation. Watching Ethan’s body shaking from the exertion on screen, my heart ached for him. He was working so hard to stand up again… If he hadn’t jumped to protect me, he wouldn’t be in that wheelchair. “No, it’s okay. Get some rest after your workout. I have to get back to loading the truck.” “Alright, baby. Love you. Kisses!” Seeing his face press up against the camera to blow me a kiss, I laughed. The exhaustion of driving for twenty-four hours straight melted away. 【2】 Thinking about his physical therapy brought back a wave of guilt. I couldn’t help but recall the horrible accident during our college years. We were crossing the street hand-in-hand when a speeding car suddenly hurtled toward us. Without a second thought, Ethan shoved me out of the way. He couldn’t dodge in time and was thrown violently onto the pavement. After losing the use of his legs, Ethan had cried in his hospital bed, refusing to see me. “Chloe, you’re so young and beautiful. I’m a broken man now. I can’t ruin the rest of your life.” He had always been so selfless. I was the one who should have been in that bed. He was enduring agonizing pain, yet his only thought was for my future… I had broken down, sobbing as I wrapped my arms around him. My lover had lost his legs to save my life. How could I ever be cruel enough to abandon him? From that day on, I became Ethan’s shadow, taking care of his every need. Once he was discharged, I ignored my parents’ fierce objections, pushed his wheelchair into city hall, and signed our marriage certificate. To care for him, I took a two-year leave of absence from college. Without my parents’ financial support, the weight of rent, utilities, and Ethan’s medical bills crashed down on me. I was a student who hadn’t even graduated yet. With no connections and no experience, I searched desperately until I found this high-paying long-haul trucking job. Driving across the country meant my life was confined to a truck cab. Since I could no longer take care of Ethan full-time, I hired a middle-aged caretaker who seemed incredibly reliable. Her name was Lily. She was in her late thirties, married with two kids, and seemed like an honest, hardworking woman. With everything arranged at home, I threw myself into my work. Driving day and night under extreme pressure, I could make up to eight thousand dollars a month on good runs, though bad months only brought in about two thousand. I carried the living expenses of two people plus Lily’s salary on my back. I couldn’t afford to slack off for even a second. When things got slow, Valerie and the other drivers would invite me out for dinners, but I always declined. Ethan’s quality of life was my top priority. He had already lost his legs. Being trapped at home all day was lonely enough; I couldn’t let him suffer financially too. As for me, I was young. I could survive on anything. For two years, I lived on cheap white bread and instant ramen. When I landed a massive delivery order, I’d treat myself to a jar of cheap hot sauce, scraping the corners of the glass clean, and then recycling the jar for a few cents to buy more bread. After months of this diet, my stomach was ruined. I became severely malnourished and prone to dizzy spells. I had passed out in the driver’s dorms several times, my mind playing weird, feverish tricks on me. Like today, while driving past a local shopping mall, my stomach cramped so badly that I pulled over to buy some ginger tea from the supermarket. Near the checkout aisle, I saw a man who looked exactly like Ethan, laughing and flirting with his arm wrapped around a middle-aged woman. I figured Valerie’s warnings were getting to me. My brain was literally hallucinating Ethan cheating on me, and the hallucination was terrifyingly vivid… Even though I knew it was fake, watching those perfectly functional legs walk away made tears stream down my face. If only it were real. More than anyone, I wanted him to stand up again. 【3】 Watching the couple disappear around the corner, a sharp pain shot through my head. I closed my eyes and shook my head. When I opened them, the pain was gone, and so were the two people. Day and night of nonstop driving had pushed my body to its absolute limit. My mental state was clearly deteriorating. If I kept driving like this, I was going to crash and kill someone. I decided to take a few days off, get a medical checkup, and rest at home. The moment I stepped through the front door of our apartment, a strong, sweet scent of cheap perfume hit my nose. Lily, whom I hadn’t seen in a while, was dressed in an unusually vibrant outfit, her face glowing. Seeing me home, her eyes widened in shock before she quickly recovered her warm smile. Since I was rarely home due to my trucking schedule, her surprise made sense. “Chloe! You’re back! You should’ve texted me. I would’ve cooked a nice lunch to welcome you home.” She reached out to help me with my bag. That was when I noticed the dark red marks scattered across her neck. Sensing my gaze, she blushed and quickly covered her neck with her hand. “Oh… my husband’s been acting like a teenager lately. So embarrassing.” “That’s sweet…” I smiled, exchanged a few polite words with Lily, and walked into the bedroom to see Ethan, who was fast asleep. Sometimes, I really envied the intimacy of normal couples. If Ethan’s legs were fine, we would be just as happy. Ethan woke up looking as drained as usual, with deep dark circles under his eyes. He probably hadn’t slept well. Ever since the accident, he had suffered from night terrors, often calling me in the middle of the night, gasping and crying about the crash. On the other end of the line, sitting in my truck cab eating cold bread, I would sob along with him, swearing to work harder to give him a better life. “Babe, I want to get the latest model of this electric wheelchair. It’s about two thousand dollars,” Ethan murmured, wrapping his arms around my waist from behind, his voice tender and sweet. “This old one is so hard to maneuver. Yesterday, Lily was pushing me, and we tumbled right down the porch steps. Look at these bruises.” He unbuttoned his shirt. Sure enough, his chest was covered in red, angry marks. “Babe, they’re on my back too…” Seeing my hesitation, he turned over with a pout to show me. Two thousand dollars… It sounded so simple to him, but it meant weeks of sleepless nights on the highway… “I’ll make it happen,” I promised, lying down next to him as a dull ache throbbed in my temples. I pulled open the nightstand drawer, searching for some melatonin. Long-haul driving had ruined my circadian rhythm. I was always drowsy during the day and wide awake at night. Melatonin and caffeine pills were my daily survival kit. “Huh? Where is it…” I rumbled through the drawer. I didn’t find the melatonin, but my hand brushed against a small box. It was a condom box. And only one was left. Ethan’s eyes flared with panic, but he forced a smile and pulled me closer. “Babe, what are you looking for? Oh, look at that, a stray condom. Why is that in here?” The fog in my brain instantly cleared. I stared at his completely limp lower half, my mind freezing over. I bought this box on Amazon less than twenty days ago to get free shipping. My husband had been paralyzed for two years. He was completely impotent. So, who used the other eleven condoms?

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During a late-night shift at the agency, while I was polishing up video scripts for the next day, I heard some strange noises coming from the restroom next door. A moment later, Chloe walked out, her face flushed red. She asked if I’d heard anything I shouldn’t have. I quickly shook my head, denying it. Then, she pulled me into her private streaming studio and asked for a “favor.” I fell hard. Later, the CEO cornered me and demanded that Chloe and I get legally hitched at the courthouse. He even threatened me with security footage from her streaming room! It wasn’t until his wife stepped in that I realized I had been set up in a honey trap… People always say showbiz is a toxic mess. Honestly, influencer agencies aren’t any better. I used to write scripts for indie short dramas. But after pissing off the wrong person, I got blacklisted in that industry. So, I ended up at an influencer marketing agency, writing content. With my background in scriptwriting, I cruised through the job. I knew exactly how to highlight each female streamer’s unique charm, using short dramatic scripts to amplify their appeal and help them stand out in a sea of pretty faces. Chloe was my first big success story. Before me, her performance was mediocre at best, nearly at the bottom of the ladder. Our boss, Marcus, handed her over to me just to see if I could pull off a miracle. Within a single week, I got Chloe trending locally on TikTok, turning her into a rising star. Not only did she pull in over fifteen thousand dollars that month, but it also made me a legend in the agency. I had just stepped out of the restroom when I heard a bizarre sound coming from the women’s room next door. “I can’t… help me!” It was Chloe’s voice, quiet but clear enough for me to hear. What was she doing in there alone an hour after closing time? “Hey? Everything okay in there? Need help?” I called out. The bathroom went dead silent. Just as I was about to lose patience and go in to check, Chloe stepped out in her high heels and bumped right into me. Feeling her soft curves pressed against my chest, my heart skipped a beat. “Uh, I thought something happened to you. I was just checking,” I stammered, awkwardly stepping back. Chloe adjusted the strap of her dress, her flushed face cooling down. A few seconds later, she locked eyes with me. “Did you hear anything just now?” I scratched my head, playing dumb. “Hear what?” She giggled, covering her mouth. “I always thought you were the innocent type, Leo. Guess I was wrong.” I was utterly confused. “Come on,” she said, grabbing my hand. “Let’s go to my streaming room. I want to show you something.” “It’s late, and we’re the only ones left. Is that really a good idea?” Chloe rolled her eyes. “I’m a girl and I’m not scared. Why are you acting like a wimp?” That did it. My pride was stung. “Fine. Let’s go.” Who was afraid of whom? She strutted ahead of me, her hips swaying. I couldn’t help but look. She had a perfect figure, flawless pale skin, and killer legs. “Those short videos you wrote for me went viral. My follower count is still shooting up!” she said without looking back. I smiled. “It’s because you’ve got the assets, Chloe. As long as you stay in shape and stick to the content plan I made, you’ll keep growing.” Her biggest selling point was her long legs. She was tall, so I designed her content around that to get her quick traction. While chatting, we reached her private streaming room. Chloe turned the doorknob, looking back with a playful smile. “After you, Shakespeare.” My name is Leo Miller. “Wordsmith” or “Shakespeare” was just a nickname the team gave me because of my writing. As a famous actor once said, once you make it, everyone around you suddenly becomes nice. That quote perfectly sums up human nature. I still remember when I first started at this agency; Chloe wouldn’t even look at me, let alone talk to me. I walked in, wondering what she was up to. Ever since she got popular, her room had been heavily upgraded. It used to be just a PC and a camera. Now? Marcus had personally moved a water dispenser and a fridge stocked with summer snacks and fruits in here. She was getting the queen treatment. “Marcus really spoils you. This place looks like a studio apartment now. He even got you a bed,” I joked, pointing to the plush daybed in the corner. Ignoring my comment, Chloe slid open her wardrobe, pulling out a tight, high-slit vintage silk dress from a row of sexy outfits. She started changing right in front of me, saying, “It’s all about the money, Leo. Marcus only cares about who brings in cash. If you make him rich, you’re his favorite.” “You don’t need to look so tense. It’s not like you’ve never seen a girl change,” she added, noticing my awkwardness. I was blushing, feeling incredibly awkward but also secretly thrilled. “I… I should step out,” I mumbled. During our last company dinner at a karaoke bar, I had noticed she and Marcus were extremely close. Chloe had had a few drinks and went to the restroom. Marcus followed her out shortly after. When they didn’t return for a while, I went to use the restroom myself. Passing a private VIP lounge, I heard some very suggestive sounds. I recognized the voices instantly. So, I knew she was the boss’s girl. Messing with the boss’s girl was a line I wouldn’t cross. It was a matter of principle. But Chloe blocked my path, propping her long leg against the doorframe. She locked the door behind us, her eyes overflowing with desire. “Giggle… What are you afraid of, Wordsmith? I told you, I want to show you something.” “Fine…” She unlocked her iPhone, tapped the screen a few times, and handed it to me. “Take a close look, handsome.” Her voice trembled slightly. When I looked up, her eyes were burning with raw emotion. Like I said, influencer agencies can get pretty wild. On her screen was a private, highly suggestive dance video—the kind she sent to her wealthy VIP donors on Snapchat. I skipped ahead, and the content became absolutely mind-blowing. My brain short-circuited. Streamers never show these videos to coworkers. Her behavior was baffling me. “Leo…” She placed her hand on my shoulder, leaning in to kiss me. “……” After that night, things escalated quickly. For a whole week, Chloe invited me to her room every night. But then, Marcus’s wife unexpectedly dropped by the office to check on things. After that, Chloe suddenly became cold and distant. I was confused. She was incredibly tempting, and part of me wanted to keep this secret affair going. But she acted like nothing had happened and kept her distance. After work, Chloe loved playing pool. I tracked her down at a local pool hall she had posted about on Instagram. “Chloe…” The moment I called her name, I regretted it. Marcus was there too. Marcus looked surprised. “Leo? What a coincidence! Want to play a round?” He acted like he knew absolutely nothing, inviting me to join. “Uh, actually, I came to find Chloe… wanted to talk about a script.” Working was just a pathetic excuse. I hated myself for being so clingy when she had already made her stance clear. “You guys go ahead, I’ll take off.” Seeing her with Marcus made everything click. If she was just playing with me, why should I take it seriously? But I still felt hurt. Even though I knew she had a thing with the boss, I felt like since we slept together, I should take responsibility. God, I’m such a pathetic loser, I cursed myself silently. From that day on, I stopped reaching out to her outside of work. Since my videos were doing great, Marcus put me in charge of four other female streamers. Writing scripts and custom-tailoring content for all of them doubled my workload, leaving me no time for romance. Naturally, my pay got a nice bump too. About two weeks later, I walked into work as usual. While discussing a script with Chloe, I noticed a bruise on her face. There was a band-aid near her temple, and a faint handprint on her cheek. “Are you… okay?” I couldn’t help but ask, seeing how distracted she was. She glanced at me coldly. “I’m fine. Oh, Marcus is in. He wants to see you.” Sure enough, Marcus waved me into his office the moment I walked past. “Leo, you’ve been with us for two months now, right? How are you liking it?” he asked, handing me a glass of water. I took it with both hands, giving him a polite smile. “It’s great, Marcus. The team is awesome, and you’ve been really supportive. I feel right at home.” Standard corporate BS. Everyone does it. “Haha!” Marcus pointed at me, his gold Rolex flashing. “Cut the crap, kid.” I wondered what game he was playing. He checked the time and got straight to the point. “I’ve heard rumors about you and Chloe.” “But it looks like you two had a fight recently. I talked some sense into her last night. Take her out for dinner tonight, make it official, and tomorrow, go to the courthouse to get legally hitched.” Tomorrow… get married? My mind went blank. “Marcus, what do you mean? I don’t follow,” I asked cautiously, keeping my voice steady. Marcus and Chloe were sleeping together. I had chased her because I was stupid, but I had already decided to let it go. Now Marcus was pushing us together and demanding we marry tomorrow?! “Ahem,” Marcus cleared his throat. “I’m planning to promote you to my executive assistant. I know you know about my history with Chloe. But she told me last night that you’re the one she really loves. So, I’m stepping aside for you two.” Was there really a free lunch in this world? To be honest, thinking about Chloe’s killer legs, I was tempted. But in the end, I rejected the offer. “Marcus, I’ll pass. Whatever happened between us is in the past.” Was he testing me? If I agreed, wouldn’t I be stealing the boss’s woman? But the moment I said no, Marcus’s face darkened. He slid his phone over, playing a video. I tapped play, and my heart sank. It was a video of me and Chloe in her streaming room that night. It wasn’t hard to guess where the footage came from. “Since we’re laying our cards on the table, I’ll be blunt,” Marcus sneered. “Chloe is pregnant. You two are getting hitched tomorrow to play husband and wife. I’ll secretly wire five thousand dollars to your personal account every month just to play the role. But remember, you are never to touch her again. Do I make myself clear?” Oh, I understood. Loud and clear. I could easily guess his motive. His wife must have found out about them. So, he wanted me to be the scapegoat husband to shut his wife up. If I agreed, I’d have to watch my legal wife sleep with Marcus. Every time Marcus came over, I’d have to go for a stroll around the block. That feeling… “I need more money,” I gritted my teeth. “Even if it’s a fake marriage, it’s still on my record.” Marcus frowned. I continued, “We’ll have to throw a wedding, right? She’ll have to meet my parents. What about when the baby is born? Living expenses aren’t cheap. And when you eventually take the kid away, what about me? I won’t be able to marry anyone else because of bigamy laws, and—” “Stop, stop, stop!” Marcus’s face twitched. “Just get hitched first. Once I sort out my domestic issues, you can divorce her.” “Fine.” Having no choice but to agree to Marcus’s demands, I went home. That very night, an elegant, wealthy-looking woman knocked on my apartment door.

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To support my wife Vivian at the grand opening of her new organic grocery store, I drove hundreds of miles back home. But I got into a horrific car crash on the highway. Right in front of me, in the other overturned vehicle, were my wife, my son, and a complete stranger. I used every ounce of my strength to drag my wife and son out of the wreckage, but the moment they were free, they ignored me and rushed to save the other man. They even dragged my bleeding body back, leaving me right next to the car that was about to explode. Through the smoke and the roaring flames, I watched the three of them hug, looking like a perfect, loving family. It turned out I had been living a lie the entire time. But God gave me a second chance. I opened my eyes, back to the day before the accident. “Wake up, buddy!” The Uber driver woke me up from the back seat. We were almost home. “Thank God, nothing happened.” I patted my chest, whispering to myself in relief. “Hey, don’t say bad-luck things in my car,” the driver muttered, annoyed. I apologized, but my shirt was already soaked in cold sweat. The AC was running at the perfect temperature, but I had been terrified by that realistic nightmare. Still shaken, I pulled out my phone and called my wife, Vivian. “Are you asleep?” Her irritated voice came through the speaker. “Of course I am. Why are you calling so late? Aren’t you worried about waking up Leo?” Her tone stung, but as a workaholic who spent most of his time running the company, I always felt a lingering guilt toward my family. I softened my voice. “I’m almost home. Isn’t the grand opening of your new store tomorrow? I came back early to help out.” There was a long silence on the other end. Then, Vivian said impatiently, “I took Leo to my parents’ place. His school has a Family Field Day tomorrow, and I’m taking him. Just handle the store opening. You don’t need to come.” I wanted to tell her that I could rush through the store setup and maybe make it to the school event. But the line had already gone dead. In the past, because I was always busy with the business, I rarely made it to Leo’s school events. I had always tolerated Vivian’s coldness. But that vivid nightmare made me doubt everything. What was she actually doing right now? If I hadn’t heard wrong, right before she hung up, I heard a muffled man’s chuckle in the background. And Vivian had let out a soft, breathless gasp—a sound I knew all too well. The thought made my chest tighten with pain. Vivian was my first love. She was the only woman I had ever loved since I turned twenty-eight. Back then, our relationship wasn’t blessed by our families. Her parents looked down on me because I was nine years older than her, while my parents despised her family’s background. At the time, the Millers owned a small grocery store that was on the brink of bankruptcy. My parents suspected Vivian was only with me for my money, so they refused to help her family’s failing business. In the end, I went on a hunger strike to force my parents to step in. With my family’s financial backing, the Millers’ store was saved, and Vivian was incredibly grateful. She publicly proposed to me, promising she would be faithful to me forever. I was too busy with work and hadn’t planned on marrying so soon. But how could any man remain unmoved when a woman did so much for him? That day, I believed I had made the right bet. After we got married, Vivian struggled to get pregnant. We went to the hospital, but they couldn’t find any issues. Later, Vivian took me to see one of her doctor friends, Dr. Evans, who claimed my sperm count was extremely low and inactive. Vivian didn’t blame me. She told me that just having each other was enough. Then one day, she brought home a baby boy, Leo, claiming she had adopted him through a private agency. Our family of three was incredibly happy. Even though Leo wasn’t my biological son, I showered him with all the love a father could give. I thought we would be happy like this forever. But that nightmare woke me up. Was any of this real? Or had I just been blinded by my own desires?

The next morning, I rushed through the new store’s ribbon-cutting ceremony and drove straight to Leo’s elementary school. By the time I arrived, the Family Field Day had already begun. Cheering echoed across the field. They were doing the piggyback relay race. I saw Vivian carrying Leo, running remarkably fast. She was wearing a tight, elegant designer dress. Even in high heels, she was leading the pack. Leo looked at the other kids falling behind and laughed happily. “Faster, Mom! Let’s go to Dad!” I thought Leo had spotted me in the crowd. But to my horror, he was shouting toward another man standing at the finish line. Waiting at the end of the track was a man in a well-tailored suit. His shirt was fitted, showing off his athletic build. Vivian practically threw Leo into the man’s arms. The man caught him, but he didn’t run very fast. He looked a bit out of breath, actually. Honestly, he wasn’t even trying to run. He was just posing, trying to look cool for the other moms watching. Naturally, he ended up in last place. But Leo didn’t mind at all. He lovingly wiped the sweat from the man’s forehead. “It’s okay, Dad! You’re still the coolest dad ever!” Watching this, my heart felt like it was being hacked by a dull blade. My wife, who was usually cold and rarely smiled. My son, who was usually mischievous and stubborn. They were showering another man with pure joy and affection. They looked like a perfect, happy family. And I was left standing there, questioning my own existence. What was I to them? Did all my years of hard work and devotion mean nothing? I walked straight up to them and stopped. I didn’t say a word. The moment Vivian saw me, panic flashed in her eyes. The man quickly set Leo down. He stretched out his hand, offering me a polite, easy smile. “Arthur, I didn’t expect you to make it back.” “Vivian told me you were busy, so she asked me to stand in for the father-son race. I hope you don’t mind.” I stared at this shameless man. His name was Simon Cole. He was Vivian’s childhood friend and a client she had introduced to my company. To be precise, Simon’s company was just a middleman. He bought goods from my company and resold them to make a profit. I had only given him those lucrative contracts to make Vivian happy. I never expected that while he was eating from my plate, he was planning to steal my entire kitchen. He wanted my wife, my son, and my life. I stood frozen, refusing to take his hand. Vivian immediately lost her patience. “Arthur, where are your manners?” “I was afraid you wouldn’t make it, so I asked Simon to help. Don’t be so petty.” I chuckled, but she was the one getting defensive. Just because I gave Simon the cold shoulder, she jumped to his defense. Between her husband and her childhood friend, she chose the latter without a second thought. “Arthur, Simon is really nice, and he’s just as cool as you!” Leo said, tugging my hand. But I wondered who he was really calling “Dad” in his head. My sweet little son had just called another man “Dad” so naturally. I patted Leo’s head and smiled. “Alright, whatever you say, buddy. Let’s go home later, and I’ll make your favorite ribs.” He jumped up and down, cheering. But as I pulled my hand back, a few strands of his hair remained in my palm. The intimate way the three of them had interacted forced me to face a dark suspicion.

The DNA results came back quickly. I had tested the maternity relationship between Vivian and Leo. Getting Vivian’s DNA wasn’t hard since we lived together. Although Leo was supposed to be an adopted child, Vivian had handled the entire process herself. She was the one who brought him home, and she had always been incredibly close to him. At first, I thought she just had a big heart. But now, it seemed Leo’s identity was far more complicated. My hands shook as I opened the lab report. The results were exactly what I feared. Vivian was Leo’s biological mother. Now, my only question was: who was the father? Simon. That was the first name that popped into my head. It made perfect sense. He had appeared in our lives right after Vivian brought Leo home. He constantly bought Leo expensive gifts and frequented our family gatherings. I had always assumed he just loved kids and was grateful for the business I gave him. But looking back, the way he looked at Leo was never just “friendly.” It was the look of a biological father. To confirm my theory, I invited Simon over for dinner. Vivian and Leo were thrilled. During the dinner, I easily obtained Simon’s DNA. A few days later, the second DNA report arrived. When I saw the paper, I let out a cold laugh. Sure enough, Simon was Leo’s biological father. All this time, I thought Simon was the third wheel in our family. Now I realized that out of the four of us, I was the only outsider. I had given Vivian everything, saving her family’s grocery business. I had raised Leo as my own, shielding him from every hardship, loving him unconditionally. And yet, after all these years of sacrifice, I was just a fool raising another man’s child. I could only imagine how they laughed at me behind my back. As Leo grew older, he rarely showed affection toward me. I thought he was just going through a phase, but now I realized he probably knew the truth all along. He happily enjoyed the life my wealth provided while calling another man his real father. To Leo, I was probably the villain who broke up his real parents. I hired a private investigator to dig into Vivian and Simon’s past. The truth was far worse than just “childhood friends.” They had dated seriously and were even planning to get married. But Simon suddenly broke it off, claiming his parents didn’t approve of her. Vivian refused to let go at first, but then her family’s store faced bankruptcy. Feeling she was no longer good enough for Simon, she walked away. Then, she swallowed her pride and came to me. With my help, her family rose from the ashes. Yet, in her eyes, marrying me was probably the biggest sacrifice of her life. But if it weren’t for me, how could she have ever crawled out of that financial grave? I was the one who stood by her during her darkest times, yet I was the one she betrayed.

When Vivian first applied for a job at my company, she was at her absolute lowest. It was freezing outside, and she showed up for the interview in a painfully thin coat. She was shivering so hard her nose was red. She actually didn’t perform well in the interview, but I hired her anyway. Maybe it was because she opened up about her family’s financial ruin, and how she was working to support her parents. It made me believe she was a kind, filial woman. Once she started, I advanced her a month’s salary so she could buy a proper winter coat. She didn’t just buy a coat, though. She also bought a small succulent for my desk. I kept that plant on my desk, watering it and watching it grow. And Vivian became warmer and more attentive toward me every day. Even though we had a nine-year age gap, and even though my friends warned me, I was blinded by love. When you’re in love, every obstacle just feels like a romantic challenge. “Us against the world” sounded incredibly romantic. In truth, my parents strongly opposed the match. I told Vivian about their disapproval. One rainy night, Vivian stood outside my apartment building without an umbrella, holding a handmade sign. It read: *“Arthur, I love you.”* Seeing her shivering in the downpour, my heart melted. Ignoring my parents’ warnings, I ran down and held her tight in the rain. At that moment, I was so sure of our love. But now, I had to wonder. Was her grand gesture back then out of love, or was it just a desperate play to secure her financial future? After we married, she worked hard, even suggesting that I should retire early and let her run the company. I actually considered it. But while she had ambition, her business decisions were too idealistic. She was snobbish with clients and struggled to maintain long-term professional relationships. So, after letting her try for a while, I took back the reins. She was deeply unhappy about it and gave me the silent treatment for weeks. To make it up to her, I bought her an apartment right next to the office. We lived in my house, which my parents had bought for us, so Vivian’s name wasn’t on the deed. After that fight, I bought the apartment solely in her name. She claimed she stayed there on nights she had to work late. I used to visit her there, but she told me she was worried about office gossip, so she asked me to stop coming. The next time I went, the locks had been changed. Her excuse was that she lost her keys and had to replace the lock. But she never offered to give me a copy of the new key. Now I knew why. That apartment was her and Simon’s secret love nest. To think that while I was pulling all-nighters at the office to secure our future, she was in that bed with Simon. It made me shake with pure rage. I will not accept this betrayal. I will make sure she understands that every action has its consequences. I hired a locksmith to discreetly make me a key to the apartment. I unlocked the door, and sure enough, it looked like a second home. There were matching couples’ toothbrushes, male underwear, and in the closet hung the elegant designer dress Vivian had worn to the school field day. This was their secret sanctuary. Putting on shoe covers and gloves, I carefully installed a tiny, hidden camera inside the bedroom ceiling smoke detector.

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Ethan Shaw changed the door lock password. The new password was sent to my email, and after trying twice, I got in. The apartment smelled wrong. The air was filled with gardenia-scented fabric softener, not the one I used. There were clothes in the washing machine that had not been taken out. One of his shirts and a floral dress. The dress was a size S, and I wore an L. I took the clothes out, folded them, and placed them on the sofa armrest. I glanced through the trash can too. Pizza for two, two cups of Coke, and neither was Diet Coke. I only drank Diet Coke. He knew that. So neither of those two cups was for me. I did not lose my temper. I sat on the sofa and waited for half an hour. When he came back and saw me, he froze for a second before changing his shoes. “You’re back early today.” I pointed at the dress on the sofa. “Who did you wash this for?” “A coworker. She spilled wine at a party—” “A coworker who wears size S, loves Coke, and uses gardenia fabric softener?” He did not answer. I picked up my bag and opened the door. “I’ll use the new password just this once. Change it again, and don’t send it to me.”

“It’s too late tonight. I’ll pick you up tomorrow morning.” At 1:47 a.m., Ethan Shaw’s message popped up. Only the spotlight above the blending table was on in the studio, and the base notes of agarwood and cedar wrapped around me, cold and clean. Not gardenia. The second message came right after. “Lily Hart just drank too much and got her dress dirty, so she came over to shower. Don’t twist everything into the dirtiest possible version.” Lily Hart. He gave me a name. Earlier at home, he had called her “a coworker,” but now she had become Lily Hart. I did not reply right away. I unscrewed a bottle of petitgrain essential oil and brought it to my nose. My sense of smell could calm me down. Gardenia fabric softener was not a scent that clung after one shower. Those molecules seeped into the fibers, and it would take at least two to three straight weeks of use. I had studied perfumery for eight years, and my nose was more honest than his mouth. After organizing my words, I typed back, “She wears size S, uses gardenia fabric softener, and loves Coke. Those three things all happened during the half month after you changed the password. Ethan, there is no gardenia fabric softener in my apartment.” His “typing” indicator flashed six times. In the end, he sent a voice message. I tapped it open. First came two seconds of silence, then a long, drawn-out sigh. “The company’s new product has been under a lot of pressure. She helped me run channels and took care of a few daily things along the way. It was only for this period, and it won’t happen again.” Daily things. Changing his fabric softener and washing her own floral dress in his apartment. He called that “along the way.” I sent him a voice message, and my voice was even calmer than I had expected. “Are you admitting it?” “What am I admitting?” He typed faster than he talked. “Serena Cole, can you stop obsessing over details? I didn’t handle it well enough, but you can’t erase three years of us because of a bottle of fabric softener.” Three years. He brought up three years. Three years ago, he wanted to start a business, and there was forty thousand in the account. I sold three exclusive formulas and scraped together eight hundred thousand as his startup capital. Those formulas were based on what my mother had left me, and they were half my life. At the folding table in our rental apartment, he pressed his thumbprint on a piece of paper and wrote a crooked line: Half the company shares are yours, and the front door password will always be your birthday. Always. Back then, it was always. Now it had become “it won’t happen again.” I typed, “Three years. Are you talking about the three years when I invested eight hundred thousand and three formulas?” “See, you’re keeping score again,” he replied instantly. “I’m talking about feelings, and you drag money into it. That’s your problem.” My problem. I stared at those two words for a long time. I closed SnapChat and placed my phone face down on the blending table. When dawn was almost breaking, I returned to the apartment. I opened the fridge, and my hand stopped in midair. The fridge was packed full of Coke. There were handwritten sticky notes on the cups, the handwriting round and cute, with a little smiley face drawn on them—”Special sweetness for Mr. Shaw~ You worked hard! —Lily” Lily. She had given herself a nickname in my fridge. I took them out one cup at a time. There were eight cups in total. I opened the closet too. My coats and sweaters were still there, but an extra pink storage bag had appeared in the bottom drawer, with a teddy bear keychain hanging from the zipper and two neatly folded pairs of leggings inside, size S. There was also a new pink cup on the bathroom cup rack, printed with the words: SMALL BUT MIGHTY. I took my own toothbrush away and left that pink cup untouched. When I opened the jewelry box, Ethan’s engagement ring was still in the top compartment. One carat, and he said he had bought it with the company’s first profit. But the formula for that order had come from me. In the end, I had given it to myself. I walked back to the kitchen. A thin layer of condensation had formed on the outside of the eight Coke cups in the trash can. I threw the ring in. It sank to the bottom, wedged between the bottom of a cup and one of “Lily’s” sticky notes. My phone rang again. Ethan: “Are you coming back today? Let’s talk about last night in person. Don’t overthink alone.” I picked up my suitcase and took one last look at the apartment. Twelve hundred square feet, south-facing, a listing I found, a lease I signed, and now it smelled like someone else’s home. I only replied with one message: “I cleaned out the fridge. There’s something in the trash can. Remember to take it out.”

“We still need to talk about the shares in person.” A week later, Ethan sent me this message, along with a restaurant location. On the other end of the phone, Ava Reed was so anxious she started cursing. “Why the hell would you go? If he’s asking to meet now, he’s definitely up to something.” “We need to sign the share withdrawal agreement eventually,” I said. “Dragging it out does me no good.” “Then I’ll go with you.” “No. If there are more people, he’ll have an excuse to change the subject.” When I arrived at the restaurant entrance, the first thing I saw was that suit. Dark gray custom tailoring, subtle vertical stripes, the birthday gift I gave him two years ago. Back then, he said the cut looked too old and shoved it into the closet without wearing it once. He wore it today. The buttons were fastened all the way to the top, and his tie was tied in a Windsor knot. He stood up and pulled out a chair. “Sit. I ordered the sake-steamed clams you like.” “I’m here to sign the agreement.” “Eat first.” He pushed the plate forward. “You’ve been staying at the studio these days, right? The water heater there is broken. How are you showering?” “Does that have anything to do with the shares?” He paused, then took a document from his briefcase and spread it out. “You can withdraw your shares, but the company’s valuation can’t be finalized right now. We need to wait until after the third round of financing—” “Ethan.” I cut him off. Because I saw the person walking in through the door. A floral dress, size S, with a waist so thin it looked pinched into shape. The scent on her reached my nose from three tables away—gardenia. Not natural gardenia, but synthetic gardenia aldehyde from cheap household products, sickeningly sweet and flat. Lily Hart. The moment she “saw” us, her expression switched smoothly—first surprise, then embarrassment, then a smile that was eighty percent obedient and twenty percent innocent. “Oh, Mr. Shaw, you’re here too? What a coincidence.” She actually sat down. She pulled out the chair beside Ethan and sat down on her own. “Hello, Mrs. Shaw.” She nodded at me, the curve of her lips precise down to the millimeter. Mrs. Shaw. I put down my fork and said nothing. She immediately turned to Ethan. “Mr. Shaw, your stomach isn’t good, so you can’t eat spicy food. Let me switch this to plain oatmeal and something light for you, okay?” She reached for the menu, her arm brushing against Ethan’s sleeve, so natural it was like she had done it a hundred times. Ethan did not move away. “You won’t blame me for meddling, will you, Mrs. Shaw?” She looked up at me, her gaze full of consideration and propriety. “After the last party, Mr. Shaw’s stomach hurt all night, and I really couldn’t bear to see him suffer.” After the last party. The last time his stomach hurt. She knew better than I did when his stomach had hurt. “I don’t blame you,” I said, calling the server over. “Add one spicy grilled fish, extra spicy.” Lily blinked. “Mrs. Shaw, Mr. Shaw really can’t—” “He used to drink until he threw up for business dinners, so his stomach has always been bad, and he can’t eat spicy food. Didn’t you know?” She had no answer. Ethan frowned and lowered his voice by half a degree. “Serena, is this really necessary? Going after a young girl with all that sarcasm.” A young girl. A size S floral dress, gardenia fabric softener, eight cups of “special sweetness” in the fridge, and a pink SMALL BUT MIGHTY cup in the bathroom. In his mouth, it was reduced to two words—a young girl. “Where’s the share withdrawal agreement?” I pulled the topic back. “I said we’ll wait until after the third round of financing—” “How long?” “Three to six months.” “Give me a firm answer.” He drew the agreement closer to his side. “What’s the rush? It’s not like we’re divorcing and splitting assets. Calm down, take some time to cool off, and come back so we can live properly.” Take some time to cool off. He thought I was talking about feelings, while I was talking about equity. Lily suddenly spoke, her voice soft and gentle. “Mrs. Shaw, Mr. Shaw has really been under a lot of pressure lately. I’ve been overseeing the new product development line, and we’ve been busy until after midnight every day. If you’re worried, I’ll keep my distance from Mr. Shaw from now on.” Her words were beautiful. She backed down in public, made herself look weak, and casually slipped in “busy until after midnight every day.” I stood up. Ethan pressed his hand on the agreement. “Are you signing or not?” “Did you wear this suit today because you thought I’d soften up if you put on something I gave you?” I picked up my bag. “Something you shoved away for two years and never wore, then polished up to use in an emergency. It’s exactly like what you did to me.” His fingers tightened on the table. Beside him, Lily lowered her head and stirred her coffee, her shoulders shrinking slightly, as if she had suffered some enormous grievance. When I walked out of the restaurant, I heard her say behind me, “Mr. Shaw, did Mrs. Shaw misunderstand something about me? Should I not have come?” “It has nothing to do with you. Her temper has always been like this.” Ethan’s voice leaked through the gap in the glass door, clear as day. “Her temper has always been like this.”

“Serena, are you here at the company to pick up your things today?” Chloe at the front desk sounded a little nervous, and her eyes drifted toward the office area inside. “Yeah, I’m here to pick up my personal belongings.” Ethan’s company was in Building B of the tech park, taking up the entire third floor. I had helped him choose that office building back then and negotiated the lease down. I bought the plants at the front desk, and I blended the scent for the fragrance system at the end of the hallway. But today, as soon as I pushed the door open, I smelled gardenia. The diffuser stones in the hallway had been changed to a new scent. I did not stop and walked straight to Ethan’s office. The door was not closed. Nothing much had changed on the desk, and the bottom drawer was where I kept my things—a leather-bound notebook, A5 size, with a brown vegetable-tanned leather cover and corners worn pale. My mother’s handwritten formulas. The complete compositions of thirty-seven perfumes, all her notes, scent trial records, and raw material ratios were inside. When she passed away, she left nothing else, only this. The drawer was empty. The notebook was gone. I looked back at the workstations outside. At the desk directly facing Ethan’s office, the surface was covered with pink storage boxes and a laptop with a glittery case. My mother’s formula notebook was on that desk. It was pressed under a takeout container and an unfinished cup of Coke. A large brown water stain spread across the leather cover, and when I flipped open two pages, the brown stain had soaked through the paper, blurring half of my mother’s fountain pen writing. She had used my mother’s relic as a coaster. “Hey, Mrs. Shaw—” Lily had returned at some point, holding two new cups of Coke, and when she saw me standing in front of her workstation, her steps slowed by half a beat. “Mr. Shaw asked me to organize this notebook.” She put down the Coke, speaking as if she were explaining something completely natural. “Some of the formula data inside needs to be entered into the system.” “This is my personal property.” “But Mr. Shaw said these formulas are the company’s core assets—” I reached out to pull the notebook away. She moved back, and the chair wheels slid, her elbow knocking over the cup on the desk. Freshly brewed hot coffee. Boiling liquid poured over the back of my outstretched right hand. Pain. It felt like someone had pressed a piece of red-hot iron against my skin. The back of my hand swelled quickly, first turning red, then blistering, with clear blisters bulging one after another over my knuckles. My right hand. Perfumery required grinding, test strips, and turning the wrist to sense how a scent lingered. Everything depended on this hand. Lily screamed, but she was not looking at my hand—she was looking at the coffee stain splashed on her own thigh. Ethan rushed out of the office. He ran past me. He ran to Lily’s side, crouched down, and checked her leg. “Did you get burned? Let me see.” Then he turned his head and looked at me, frowning as if I had caused trouble. “You knew she’s clumsy. Why did you fight her over some stupid notebook?” Some stupid notebook. I clenched that leather notebook, now soaked and ruined by Coke, in my right hand. The blisters on the back of my hand burst under the pressure, and clear fluid ran down between my fingers, mixing with the brown Coke stains. “Ethan,” I said, “the eight hundred thousand you used to start your business came from this stupid notebook.” His expression finally cracked. “Don’t send me the password anymore. Even you feel dirty to me now.” I left with the notebook clenched in my hand. In the elevator, my hand began trembling uncontrollably, the pain so intense that my fingertips spasmed. Chloe ran after me and handed me a bottle of water, looking at my hand like she wanted to say something but hesitated. “Serena… should I call a car for you? Burns need treatment right away.” “Help me call a car to the hospital.” “Okay.” She paused for two seconds, then said quietly, “Serena, Lily… Mr. Shaw didn’t ask her to organize that notebook. She took it herself. Last week, she even took photos of the formulas inside and sent them to an outside supplier.” My fingers tightened around the notebook another degree. I could no longer feel the pain. “Thank you for telling me, Chloe.” She bit her lower lip and nodded hard, looking like she was about to cry. The car arrived. Before getting in, I looked back at the third-floor window, and the office lights were still on. “Let’s go.”

“Second-degree burns, with some deep second-degree areas.” The doctor took off his gloves and looked up at me. “What do you do for work?” “I’m a perfumer.” He paused, and the motion of tossing his gloves into the trash slowed by half a beat. “The deep second-degree areas over the joints on the back of your right hand may leave scars. Right now, we still need to monitor the wound for infection risk, and skin grafting cannot be ruled out later.” “Will finger movement be affected?” “It’s hard to say for now. It depends on recovery. If scar contracture develops, the bending angle of your fingers may be limited.” By the time Ava rushed into the hospital room, my hand was already wrapped in gauze. “Serena Cole, are you insane? Why didn’t you call me? Your hand—” “Help me do a few things.” Her eyes were red with anxiety, and her mouth was still open before she could finish scolding me. “First, block every contact method for Ethan Shaw.” “Okay.” “Second, help me check flights to Grasse today.” “You’re leaving?” “I’m going to Grasse. There’s a fragrance-producing region there, and I contacted an estate owner before. I can do independent R&D there.” “Wait—your hand is already like this, and you still—” “Ava.” She shut up. I lowered my head and looked at my right hand, wrapped tightly in gauze. Beneath the white bandages were ulcerated wounds, broken blisters, and a piece of skin whose future was uncertain. A perfumer’s hand. “Help me buy a ticket. Tonight.” She said nothing more and took out her phone to start working. She blocked him and deleted all chat records. Then she suddenly stopped. “Serena, look at this.” She handed me her phone. It was an Ins page. The account was called “Lily Sweetpea,” with half a side profile as the avatar, and an amethyst necklace hanging at the collarbone—I had seen the same style beside the cup rack in Ethan’s bathroom. The latest post had been published three hours ago. Title: [New Home Decorating Vlog | Building Our Little Nest with Him] A nine-photo grid. The first photo was the living room, my sofa, the floor lamp I chose, and a bouquet of gardenias on the table. The second photo was the kitchen, with the fridge door open and rows of thirty-percent-sugar Coke inside, the sticky notes on the cups clearly visible. The third photo was the bathroom. That pink SMALL BUT MIGHTY cup was placed in the center, and the spot for my toothbrush beside it was already empty. The fourth photo was the bedroom. The photo on the nightstand had been changed. In the frame was a photo of Ethan and Lily together, the two of them leaning against each other at the beach Ethan and I had gone to last year. Comments: “You’re so happy! Your boyfriend’s place is huge!” “How many bedrooms is this? So luxurious for two people!” “I’m jealous, I’m jealous. When are you getting the marriage license?” In three hours, there were two hundred and forty-seven comments. She had turned my home into her content material. My sofa, my lamp, the lease I signed, the home I found, all became “our little nest” in her title. “There’s another one.” Ava scrolled down to a post from last week. “Look at this.” Title: [My Perfumery Diary | Learning to Make Perfume at My Boyfriend’s Company] In the photo was an open leather-bound notebook—my mother’s formula notebook. She had photographed the inner pages. My mother’s fountain pen writing, the raw material ratios and scent trial records written line by line, had been photographed and posted on social media by her, with the caption: “My boyfriend’s company’s exclusive formula notebook. I heard it’s worth millions. I’ll work hard too and become a master perfumer!” One thousand three hundred likes. Four hundred and seventy saves. The things my mother wrote stroke by stroke were now in the saved folders of four hundred and seventy strangers. “Serena…” “Have you bought the plane ticket?” “I bought it. Eleven tonight.” “Let’s go.” I stood up, without putting my right arm into the sleeve of my coat, and when the gauze on the back of my hand brushed against the edge of my clothes, the pain made my vision go white. Ava supported my arm and walked me to the hospital lobby, and my phone suddenly rang. An unfamiliar number. When I answered, it was a man’s voice, very formal. “May I ask if this is Ms. Serena Cole? I’m Attorney Clark from M&C Law Firm, contacting you on behalf of Mr. Ethan Shaw.” “What is it?” “The share agreement you previously signed with Mr. Shaw does not constitute a valid shareholder relationship under the law because it does not have the statutory filing procedures required by the company charter. Mr. Shaw hopes to negotiate with you amicably—” “You mean that agreement is invalid?” “Strictly speaking, that handwritten document is indeed difficult to use as—” “I invested eight hundred thousand at the time. There are transfer records.” “Mr. Shaw’s position is that the nature of that sum was a personal loan rather than an equity investment, and he is willing to repay it in installments—” I hung up. The taxi was waiting at the entrance. Ava opened the car door, looked at my face, and said nothing. After the car drove through two intersections, she finally asked quietly, “Serena, are you… okay right now?” The night slid past the car window, and streetlights retreated one by one. “Help me look into someone,” I said. “Lily Hart’s background, work experience, and how she got into Ethan’s company.” “You suspect she—” “I don’t believe anything anymore. Help me investigate.”

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When my parents divorced, my dad fought tooth and nail for my older brother, Brandon. My mom did the same for my younger sister, Chloe. I was the middle child. Nobody wanted me. I was the trash of the family, rejected by everyone. Little did they know, I was born with a fated luck aura. As long as I stayed in this house, the family would thrive. But the moment I left, they would plunge into rapid ruin. Sure enough, after the divorce, my father’s business went bankrupt, and my mother’s career was completely destroyed. As for my siblings, Brandon’s arms were permanently crushed, and Chloe had to have both of her legs amputated. Meanwhile, I lived my best life alone. My luck aura blessed my own path, and in less than a year, I became the youngest self-made billionaire in the country. When my parents finally realized that all their past wealth was entirely thanks to my fated luck… They regretted everything. They fell to their knees in front of me, sobbing and begging me to come home. I just gave them a cold smirk. “Who are you beggars? Get lost, before I have security throw you out.”

Today was the day my parents got divorced, and the day our custody was decided. In the courtroom, Arthur didn’t hesitate to choose Brandon. Victoria immediately chose Chloe. Once their choices were made, they fell into a tacit silence. Their eyes only lingered on their chosen children, filled with warmth and expectation. I sat alone in the corner of the bench, like a piece of forgotten luggage. Watching this, my nose stung, and my chest felt so tight it ached. The judge fell silent for a moment, flipping through the files. He frowned and asked, “What about… the other child? Ethan?” Hearing my name, my heart skipped a beat. I looked at Arthur and Victoria with a tiny, desperate shred of hope. But their brows instantly furrowed. Their eyes filled with undisguised disgust. Victoria curled her lip and turned to Arthur. “Arthur, you have a massive estate. You should take Ethan. You have enough money to feed stray dogs, so you can’t tell me you can’t afford your own son. It’s just adding another plate to the table!” “Victoria! You really have a slick tongue!” Arthur’s voice shot up as he snapped. “Raise him? He’ll only drag Brandon down and ruin my company’s reputation! You gave birth to him. You raise him. I’m not spending a single dime on him!” The two of them immediately started screaming at each other, tossing me back and forth like a piece of unwanted garbage. Their toxic words stabbed deep into my heart. I couldn’t hold it in anymore. I stood up and screamed at them, my voice cracking with tears, “Dad! Mom! What did I do wrong? I’m your child too!” Faced with my question, they looked embarrassed for a split second, which quickly morphed into furious rage. “Look at yourself! Do you really have no self-awareness?” Victoria’s face twisted as she shrieked, “How dare you speak to us like that? Is that how you show respect? You ungrateful little brat!” Arthur pointed a finger right at my nose. “A useless waste like you should have never been born in the first place!” My heart died right then and there. Since they saw me as nothing but trash, why should I beg for their scraps? I turned directly to the judge. “Your Honor, I want to apply for legal emancipation. I don’t want either of them to have custody over me.” The judge looked at my parents, who showed absolutely no objection, and sighed before granting my request. Leaving the courthouse, I watched the two happy little families walking ahead of me. I said coldly: “This is the last time I will ever call you Mom and Dad. I remember telling you before that I have a luck aura.” “Everything you have right now—your wealth, your success—was because of me.” “Now that you’ve thrown me away, don’t come begging when your business goes bankrupt and your careers are ruined!”

I wasn’t trying to flatter myself when I said those words. Ever since I was a kid, I had this fated luck aura. As long as I was around, the family prospered. Ever since my aura activated, Arthur’s failing business suddenly took off, making him a multi-millionaire CEO. Victoria, who was on the verge of being laid off, got promoted all the way to becoming a celebrity dance instructor. Because of the blessing of my aura, Brandon was hailed as a math genius, and Chloe was praised as a prodigy dancer. I blessed everyone in that house, yet I was treated like a parasite. And now, they had abandoned me. The firstborn is the pride, the youngest is the spoiled baby, and the middle child is just the invisible punching bag. Classic Middle Child Syndrome. I was always the extra one. In their world, there was never any room for me. I still remember when we were kids. When Brandon won a math competition, Arthur bought him a ten-thousand-dollar gaming rig without blinking. When Chloe performed on stage, Victoria would proudly present her with massive bouquets of flowers. And me? I brought home straight A’s and top-tier trophies year after year. All I got in return was cold mockery. Victoria wouldn’t even look up from her phone. “Stop wasting time on useless things. Who knows if you cheated just to get attention.” Arthur tore my certificates into shreds. “Can this paper buy food? Can it make money? You’re just trying to copy Brandon to beg for presents, aren’t you? Stop embarrassing us.” All my hard work, all my proof of worth, was nothing but trash to be stepped on in their eyes. What hurt even more was that they always “forgot” to send me lunch money, while Brandon and Chloe’s accounts were always loaded on time, often with extra bonuses. Arthur was a wealthy CEO, and Victoria was a famous instructor, yet their middle son almost starved to death. How ironic. Outside the courthouse, when they heard me talk about my luck aura, they laughed. Arthur sneered, “A luck aura? You? You don’t deserve it! My company is successful because of my own hard work! It has absolutely nothing to do with a loser like you!” Victoria scoffed, “Lying just to get our attention. You’re trying to take credit for our hard work. You are rotten to the core. Thank god we didn’t choose you.” Brandon glared at me, his voice full of arrogance. “Ethan! How dare you curse our family! You’re disgusting!” Chloe looked at me with pure disdain. “No wonder Mom and Dad hate you. You only know how to throw tantrums because you’re incompetent. Look at yourself.” Faced with their insults, I shut my mouth. They would cry soon enough. I left without even going back to pack my things. That house had never had a place for me anyway. I slept in the cramped utility closet and wore Brandon’s old hand-me-downs. The SATs were only a few days away. This was my last chance, my only ticket out. I had to fight with everything I had. Otherwise, I would truly be ruined for life. But once I started living on my own, I was shocked to find myself completely transformed. My mind was clearer than ever. Even the hardest prep questions felt incredibly easy. I even bought a few scratch-offs at a gas station and won several thousand dollars in a row. A thought flashed through my mind: “Now that I’ve cut ties with them, my luck aura is finally blessing ME. Because I am my own family now.” This realization made me ecstatic. The scales of fate were finally tipping in my favor.

The exam day arrived quickly. I cruised through the SATs, my pen flying across the paper like magic. Meanwhile, in another testing center, Brandon was staring at his test sheet, sweating profusely. “How is this happening?” Brandon stared at the blank spaces, his fingers shaking uncontrollably. “I… I knew how to do these questions yesterday…” Ever since I left, Brandon had felt his mind growing cloudier and slower. But he had brushed it off, too arrogant to care, still spending his nights partying. He didn’t realize he was suffering from the backlash of my departure. As the timer ticked down to the last few minutes, a desperate, wild thought crossed his mind. When the proctor turned her back, he leaned over and peeked at the sheet of the student next to him… At the exact same time, Arthur was drowning in corporate chaos. His business partners were pulling out of contracts for no reason. Major projects were failing one after another. In the past, he could solve these issues in his sleep. But now, he had no idea what to do. If this kept up, his company would go bankrupt. Suddenly, his phone rang loudly. “What? My son cheated? I knew that little piece of trash Ethan was no good! But you don’t need to call me, he’s emancipated! He’s not my problem!” Arthur immediately assumed it was me, letting out a stream of vile curses. However, when the voice on the line clarified that the cheater was Brandon, Arthur felt like he had been struck by lightning. “No way! You must have made a mistake! Brandon won math trophies! Why would he need to cheat?!” Brandon was his pride and joy, the heir he was grooming to take over the company. Hearing this news felt like his entire sky was collapsing. Brandon’s SAT scores were completely voided, and he was banned from taking College Board exams for three years. This news was a fatal blow to Arthur’s already struggling company. Meanwhile, Chloe was participating in a massive, high-stakes dance showcase. Many top industry directors and scouts were in the audience. The future of her entire dance company depended on this performance. The artistic director had put all his hope on Chloe. But when the music started, everyone was horrified. The backup dancers moved gracefully, but Chloe just stood there like a statue, tears welling up in her eyes. She realized that every single dance move had vanished from her brain. Even her proud muscle memory was completely gone. “What are you doing? Dance!” Victoria screamed frantically from the wings, her voice cracking. This threw the backup dancers off, ruining the entire formation. Chloe tried to move, but she was as clumsy as a lame duck. “This is the prodigy you bragged about?” a prominent director in the front row asked, his voice dripping with disgust. Victoria rushed to explain, “She… she’s usually not like this! She’s just nervous…” “Her movements have zero technique. She’s worse than a beginner,” a famous choreographer said, frowning. “Victoria, I highly doubt your professional credentials as an instructor.” “And people call you a master teacher? I don’t see a single trace of talent here.” Victoria’s face went paper-white. She knew better than anyone that once these words spread, her career as a celebrity dance coach was over. The director of the dance company looked like he had lost his mind. His years of hard work had just gone up in smoke. His eyes turned bloodshot as he stared at Chloe on stage. In a sudden fit of psychotic rage, he rushed onto the stage, grabbed a heavy metal prop from the set, and slammed it violently into Chloe’s legs. “Ahhhhh!!!” A horrific shriek echoed through the entire theater. “You useless bitch! You ruined me!” The director screamed hysterically, his voice shaking with mad desperation. “My life’s work… gone! All gone!” Victoria stood frozen, all color draining from her face, her soul seemingly sucked out of her body. The director was eventually tackled by security and hauled away by the police. Chloe was rushed to the ER. To Victoria’s horror, the diagnosis came back: Chloe’s legs were shattered beyond repair. She would never stand again. Arthur rushed to the hospital with Brandon. Even though he was divorced, he still loved his daughter. He held the medical report with trembling hands. The stress of the past few weeks had aged him by ten years. His eyes were red and wet. “Why… why is this happening…” “My company is ruined, Brandon is banned, and now Chloe…” Arthur collapsed onto the hallway floor, sobbing hoarsely. “Oh God! What did our family do to deserve this?!” Victoria was crying uncontrollably, looking incredibly disheveled. Suddenly, she shuddered, as if struck by a terrifying realization. Her lips trembled as she whispered: “Could… could Ethan have been telling the truth? Is he really a luck charm? Was our wealth all because of him?” “Since we kicked him out, the company, Brandon, Chloe, and me… all of us…” She grabbed Arthur’s arm tightly, her eyes wide with terror and regret. “When he was home, nothing like this ever happened!” Arthur sat frozen on the floor. He connected the dots of everything that had happened recently. His face went dead white, and he felt a wave of regret so strong he wanted to beat his head against the wall.

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My boyfriend of ten years, Ethan Carter, was perfect. He was handsome, brilliant, and successful. His only flaw? He loved tearing me down. If I got an A- instead of an A+, he’d tell me I “wasn’t trying hard enough.” When I finally made my first dollar writing online, he told me my stories were “utter trash.” Later, at the bridal boutique, when Ethan stared at me and sneered that my body wasn’t good enough to look like a real bride… I finally snapped. For the first time in a decade, I screamed at him: “If you think I’m so terrible, why the hell are you marrying me?” At the bridal boutique, when I stepped out of the fitting room, even the strangers nearby gasped. The stylist smiled warmly. “Miss Miller, you’re so tall and elegant. This dress looks absolutely stunning on you.” “Go show your fiancé. He’s going to fall in love with you all over again.” I smiled back nervously. “Maybe. He’s… a bit of a perfectionist.” After ten years with Ethan, I knew his standards. He had never complimented me. Not once. But today, looking at myself in the mirror, with my defined waist and glowing skin perfectly framing the delicate lace of the gown, I couldn’t help but hope. Surely, Ethan would like this. Right? Would he finally call me beautiful? Would his jaw drop like the other grooms in the shop? My heart pounded with nervous anticipation as I walked over and gently tugged on Ethan’s sleeve. But a second later, my hope was brutally crushed.

Ethan turned around. He looked me up and down with cold, calculating eyes. The first words out of his mouth were: “Maya, you’re still too fat.” My smile froze. The stylist beside us went completely stiff. “Your face looks bloated, your arms look thick, and your shoulders look way too broad. It’s totally unflattering.” Ethan sighed, sounding deeply disappointed. “Maya, you don’t look like a bride at all in that.” His voice wasn’t incredibly loud, but it was clear enough for everyone in the boutique to hear. Dozens of eyes locked onto me—some pitying, some mocking, some just watching the drama unfold. In that moment, I didn’t feel like a human being. I felt like a piece of cheap merchandise Ethan was inspecting and rejecting. Tears welled up in my eyes, choking the breath right out of my throat. To fit into this dress, I had done exactly what he wanted. I ran every single day. For three months, I starved myself, living on tiny portions, losing twenty pounds just so I could look perfect on our wedding day. Why was he still doing this to me? Maybe it was the months of hunger, or maybe it was the agonizing weight of shattered expectations. Whatever it was, the girl who had endured his insults for ten years was gone. I ripped the veil off my head. For the first time in my life, I screamed at him. “Ethan! If you think I’m so terrible, then don’t marry me!” “You’re right, I don’t look like a bride. So we’re not doing this. The wedding is off!” While Ethan stared at me in absolute shock, I took a deep breath, finally saying the words that had haunted my mind for years: “Ethan, we’re over. I’m leaving you.”

By the time my best friend, Chloe, came to pick me up, I still couldn’t stop crying. The moment I posted on my Snapchat that the wedding was canceled, my phone blew up. Most of the messages were variations of: “Maya, are you crazy? What did Ethan do?” “He’s such a great guy. If you let him go, you’ll regret it for the rest of your life.” Even my mom took his side. “I talked to Ethan. It was just a stupid dress, Maya. You’re overreacting. Don’t throw away a good man over nothing.” Meanwhile, Ethan sent me a text with just three words: *Stop being dramatic.* Staring at my phone, a profound sense of helplessness washed over me. No one understood. To the rest of the world, Ethan was the perfect catch. He was drop-dead gorgeous, highly successful, made bank, and had been loyal to me for ten years. His only “quirk” was that he liked to “motivate” me by pointing out my flaws. We were childhood sweethearts. We grew up on the same block. He had always been the golden boy—the straight-A student, the star athlete, the one who excelled at everything while I struggled to keep up. But life has a way of balancing things out. In exchange for his genius, he had a miserable home life. His mother passed away when he was young, and his father was a workaholic who barely noticed him unless Ethan brought home a trophy or an Ivy League acceptance. Because of that, Ethan grew up fast. While other kids were playing tag in the yard, Ethan was winning state math championships. That cold, lonely upbringing turned him into a reserved, distant man. But with me, he showed his sharp, critical tongue. If I got a B instead of an A, he would tap my head and tell me I “wasn’t smart enough.” He’d point at my wrong answers and demand to know how I could make “such stupid mistakes.” If I got third place in a writing competition, he’d roll his eyes, completely disappointed, and call me a “slacker.” Growing up, my mom’s favorite phrase was, “Look at Ethan. He’s so brilliant, always top of his class, winning every award. Why can’t you be more like him?” I spent my entire youth living in Ethan’s shadow. I hated how he made me feel worthless, and I hated how my mom constantly compared us. But when our teenage hormones kicked in, our friends called us “enemies to lovers.” They told me that the way Ethan treated me was just his way of showing he cared. Even when Ethan asked me out, he said: “Maya, if I didn’t love you, do you really think I’d care enough to push you this hard?” That was the first time he had ever spoken to me so softly. His eyes were warm, filled with a rare, gentle smile. With everyone around us cheering, I ignored the quiet warning bells ringing in my heart. I foolishly said yes. And that foolishness lasted ten years.

Chloe was my best friend from college, and she was the only one who supported my decision to walk away. Back in college, Ethan once asked me to meet him at the library to study. Waking up at 7 AM on a Saturday wasn’t easy. Even though I practically sprinted across campus, I was two minutes late. Ethan sat there, arms crossed, his face dark with annoyance. “Maya, why do you have zero sense of time?” “If you’re like this at a job, are you going to keep clients waiting too? What if a million-dollar contract is on the line?” I automatically started to apologize, but Chloe, who was just returning from a morning run, pulled me behind her. “Waking up early on a Saturday just to study with you is torture enough. Maya is amazing for even showing up,” Chloe snapped. “And she was literally two minutes late. Do you really need to make a federal case out of it?” From that day on, Ethan and Chloe hated each other. But Chloe loved to praise me. If I got a B+, she cheered. If I passed my finals, she threw a mini-celebration. Even if I just managed to drag myself to an 8 AM lecture, she’d tell me I was doing great. She’d say, “Don’t listen to Ethan. Our Maya is the absolute best!” That kind of validation was something I had never experienced in my twenty-something years of life. Naturally, I loved spending time with her. But Ethan despised her. “She only praises you to make you complacent. She’s keeping you blind to your own flaws.” “Constructive criticism is the only way to grow. Pointing out your weaknesses is how I show I actually care about your future.” Whenever Chloe’s name came up, Ethan’s jaw would clench, and his lips would press into a thin, tight line. I knew that look. It meant he was angry, and whenever he got angry, I was the one who got lectured. I wanted to defend Chloe. I wanted to tell him she wasn’t like that. But a familiar, paralyzing fear would creep over me, keeping me rooted to the spot. I was terrified. I was terrified of his anger, terrified of his disappointment. When Chloe heard about it later, she just sighed. “Maya, when someone spends years chipping away at your self-esteem, it’s incredibly hard to break free.” “Take your time.” So today, when I finally told her I had dumped him, Chloe was ecstatic. She hugged me tightly and whispered, “Congratulations, babe. You’re finally free.”

Chloe took me to her apartment and let me move into her spare bedroom. When she showed me the room, her eyes were shining. “Maya, look! I decorated it just for you!” I stared at the pastel pink walls, the cute Disney desk, and the plush doll resting on the bed. For a moment, I was completely dazed. Since moving in with Ethan, how long had it been since I’d owned anything like this? Ethan was a strict minimalist. Our apartment was a sterile void of black, white, and gray. Whenever I brought home anything pink or cute, he would sneer, calling my taste “utterly tacky and childish.” The memory hit me, and tears began to stream down my face again. I hugged Chloe, sobbing into her shoulder. If Ethan was a ten-year nightmare I couldn’t wake up from… Then Chloe was the universe’s way of healing me.

A few days later, I went back to the apartment to pack my things. I didn’t expect Ethan to be there, but when I opened the door, he was sitting on the couch. He lazily looked up at me. “Are you done throwing your tantrum? Are you ready to come home?” I forced myself to keep my voice steady. “I’m not throwing a tantrum, Ethan. I meant what I said. We are over.” “I’m only here to pack my things.” To my surprise, Ethan didn’t yell. He just sat there, legs crossed, hands folded, watching me with a smug, knowing smirk. I swallowed the knot in my throat and started packing. Truthfully, I didn’t have much. Most of the things in the apartment were bought by Ethan after we moved in together. When we first started living together, he saw my colorful coffee mugs and patterned towels and frowned. “Maya, your things look so cheap. They’re an eyesore.” The next day, he threw them all in the trash and replaced them with gray ones. When I tried to confront him, he just shrugged. “Your things were embarrassing. They didn’t fit the aesthetic, so I upgraded them.” That was the first time I actually wanted to break up. I couldn’t understand why a simple personal preference had to be treated like a crime. But my mom talked me out of it. “He bought you nicer things, Maya. Let it go. You guys have been together for so long, don’t throw it away over some mugs.” So, I compromised. Only years later did I realize: it wasn’t a small thing. Nothing that makes you feel small is ever a small thing.

The only part of that apartment I actually loved was my writing corner. A simple desk, a lamp, and my laptop. That was where I had written countless stories. I had loved writing since I was a kid, but Ethan always scolded me for “wasting my time on useless fantasies,” so I had put my dream on hold. In college, with more free time, I started writing online again. Ethan was my very first reader. I had eagerly shown him my draft, hoping for a shred of encouragement. But after skimming it, he cold-boiled me with a glare. “This is absolute garbage, Maya. It makes no sense.” “You have zero talent for writing. Give it up.” But for once in my life, I loved something too much to listen to him. I kept writing. And to my surprise, my stories started getting popular. When I received my first payment from the platform, I proudly showed him my dashboard. “Look! I made three hundred dollars from my writing!” I wanted to prove to him that people liked my work. That they were willing to pay for it. I wanted to prove that I wasn’t as useless as he said. But how did Ethan react? He glanced at the screen for a split second, then looked up with utter disdain. “Useless trash.” He looked down at me like I was a charity case. “There are a lot of gullible people on the internet who probably felt sorry for a newbie. You actually think this means you’re a good writer?” “Don’t flatter yourself.” Every single word was a dagger, popping the tiny bubble of hope in my chest and leaving a bleeding, aching wound. After that day, no matter how much money I made from my books, I never mentioned my writing to Ethan again. Now, standing in my old writing corner, I took a deep breath and prepared to pack my laptop. But when I touched the trackpad, the screen lit up. My heart stopped. The folder containing my latest manuscript was gone. It was a 100,000-word draft. Every single sentence had been carefully crafted, representing months of sleepless nights and absolute devotion. I frantically checked the recycle bin. I searched the temporary Word files. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. There was only one person who could have done this. “I deleted it,” Ethan’s voice echoed from the doorway. He was leaning against the frame, looking at me with dark, unreadable eyes. “I realized this useless trash was giving you delusions of grandeur.” “Did you honestly think you could support yourself and leave me with some silly internet stories?”

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Everyone was waiting for Tristan to propose to me—his deaf first love—with that rare pink diamond. He had rehearsed the proposal hundreds of times. The entire world was convinced we would end up together. But a sudden earthquake hit, and I vanished, losing all contact. By the time I crawled my way back to survive, he had completely forgotten about me. For his stepmother’s daughter, he smashed the cake I spent all day baking. For her, he went crazy and cried. “Listen, Sera. I don’t care how much I loved you before. Right now, Melanie is my only girlfriend.” Heartbroken and exhausted, I decided to let go. Yet, when I finally walked away, the cold, ruthless man knelt on the wet sand, grabbing my hand, begging. “Don’t leave me, Sera. Without you, I’ll die.” My eyes held nothing but icy indifference. I let out a cold laugh. “The moment you chose to abandon me, Tristan, you were already dead in my heart.” On Tristan’s birthday, he invited his friends to a private VIP club at the mountain peak. By the time I arrived, there were no seats left. One of his friends led me over to him. “Hey Tristan, where should Sera sit?” Tristan glanced at me as I stood outside his luxury car. He spoke carelessly. “Let the deaf girl squeeze in with you guys. I have to go pick up Melanie.” “But man, we’re all driving convertibles and we’ve all got girls. She can’t sit on our laps.” Tristan scoffed, irritation in his voice. “Then let her sit on your laps!” Without another glance at me, he slammed the gas pedal of his silver Bugatti, leaving me in a cloud of dust. Recalling the lip-reading of that conversation, my lips curved into a bitter smile. They didn’t know I could read lips perfectly. I didn’t know how long it took before I finally pushed the doors open to enter the club. The first thing I saw was Tristan gently wiping tears from Melanie’s face. “Don’t cry, Melanie. No one is going to drive you away from me. You’re the one who saved my life.” “I won’t believe a word they say.” When Tristan spotted me, his eyes instantly narrowed into a harsh glare. He had clearly had too much to drink, his face flushed red with alcohol. I quietly retreated to a corner, pulling out a hangover cure from my bag, waiting. Because of my hearing loss, the world was blissfully quiet. The old Tristan used to hate places like this. He used to love curling up in a quiet corner with me, reading books, avoiding the loud crowds. Someone nudged me forward. “Sera,” Tristan called out. I held out my hand to give him the medicine, but he suddenly grabbed my wrist and pulled me close. “Where is your hearing aid?” His hand brushed against the device hanging behind my ear. Understanding his silent demand, I quickly put it on. The very next second, Tristan grabbed the back of my neck and slammed my face straight into the customized birthday cake on the table. The waiter gasped. The entire room fell dead silent. The cake was beautiful. I had spent a whole day learning from a pastry chef just to make it for him. “Aside from playing the victim and clinging to me like a pathetic beggar, what else can you do? Did you think making this stupid cake would make me love you again?” “Keep dreaming.” The greasy frosting made it hard to breathe. After a sharp, painful buzz in my ears, the whispers and mocking laughter of the crowd flooded in. Melanie had started crying earlier because someone whispered she had stolen her sister’s man. But it was the truth. She had taken advantage of Tristan’s amnesia to steal my place. My heart went cold. “I was the one who saved you, Tristan! Not her!” On the day of the earthquake, despite being severely injured and facing constant aftershocks, I dug through the ruins with my bare hands for a day and a night to pull him out. I stayed by his side without food or water until I passed out. While I was unconscious, Vivian’s daughter discovered Tristan had amnesia. She forged evidence to make herself the hero, and everyone in her family helped her spin the lie. “Is it fun to lie like this? Tristan, you were abroad when it happened. How could you have saved me?” “They fabricated everything to trick you. You can look up the records, Tristan! Don’t believe her!” Tristan sneered. “You are completely insane.” He turned his back on me. “Even if I am being tricked, I’m happy to be.” I used to organize Tristan’s birthdays every year. Tears pricked my eyes as I remembered the year we first met. We were ten. He was an rebellious, unacknowledged illegitimate son. He was only dragged out of the slums because the primary heir of his family had died in an accident. In that dangerous, hostile high-society circle, he was sensitive and cold to everyone. Except me. He was only gentle with me. The year we officially started dating, he held a slightly ugly, homemade cake with trembling hands, his eyes red. He said, “Sera, let’s spend every single birthday together from now on, okay?” I smiled and asked, “What did you wish for?” “To stay by Sera’s side forever. Until the end of time.” My thoughts snapped back to reality. Melanie looked terrified. “Tristan, don’t be like this. Sera is only making up these lies because she can’t let you go.” The smugness in Melanie’s eyes was barely hidden. She looked at my ruined, pathetic state, unable to suppress her joy. “Sera, I know you lost your hearing because you saved me when we were younger. But my family gave you a massive financial settlement for that. Let me make this clear: I will never marry you.” Wiping the frosting from my face, I let out a hollow laugh. Seeing my miserable state, he scoffed. “Clean yourself up and get out.” In the restroom, I used wet wipes to frantically clean the cream off my clothes. It wouldn’t come out. This dress was a gift from Tristan. After I accepted his confession, he had wrapped me in his arms, clumsy but incredibly gentle. “White suits my Sera best.” I used to protect this dress with everything I had. But now, the person who ruined it was Tristan himself. Melanie walked in to wash her hands, her face smug with provocation. “How does it feel to have your face smashed into your own cake?” “Save your breath, Sera. If he wanted to remember you, he would have by now. I’m the one who saved him during the earthquake. His life belongs to me.” I lowered my gaze. “I guess if you tell a lie enough times, you actually start believing it.” I had saved Tristan’s life more times than I could count. When he was depressed and starving himself, when he tried to end his life with a shard of glass, when his family’s enemies targeted him and tried to drown him in the river… I was the one who pulled him through the darkest times of his life. Melanie shook the water off her hands. “He will never remember you. Stop wasting your energy. No one cares about you anyway—not Dad, and definitely not Tristan.” “Just admit it, Sera. You’re just a pathetic, unlovable loser.” My father, Arthur, knew exactly how deeply Tristan and I had loved each other. Yet, in the face of this lie, he chose to side with Melanie. “Your sister said she’d kill herself if she couldn’t be with Tristan! She’s young and foolish, but are you senseless too?” To the public, he was always the righteous, fair businessman. I never expected him to say something so heartless to me. “How do you expect me to be sensible? I’ve given up everything she wanted. Am I supposed to hand over the man I love to her too?” In the middle of the night, Tristan suddenly decided to take everyone to a nearby private island for an overnight trip. They grilled, watched the stars, and admired the bioluminescent bay, leaving me completely ignored in the corner. A woman walked over to me, her tone demanding. “Sera, Tristan said he lost his watch. He wants you to go find it.” “His watch?” “Yeah. It probably fell in the woods over there.” She looked me up and down with deep disdain. “He also said, if you can’t find it, you don’t ever have to show your face in front of him again.” I looked at the pitch-black, silent woods. “Okay.” But by the time I found the watch and walked back, everyone was gone. Only a small blanket was left behind, weighted down by a note with Tristan’s handwriting. [Sera, stay on this island and think about what you did.] When I was finally brought back to the city, I ran a high fever for three straight days. My assistant, Hazel, fed me medicine with a long face, her eyes wide as she frantically signed to me. “It’s not worth it! You almost died for him so many times, and your health is completely ruined. Even if he lost his memory, he has no right to treat you like this!” “Why do you insist on staying by his side? I don’t get it.” I reached out and touched her ear, feeling the edge of her hearing aid. “I don’t get it either. But he will remember. He has to.” I drifted into a hazy sleep until a phone call woke me up. “Sera.” The line was silent for two seconds. “Starlight Hotel, Room 1309. Bring my watch over. And buy some cold medicine on your way.” He was sick? It was pouring rain outside. After waiting fifteen minutes without any Uber picking up my request, I grabbed an umbrella and ran out. Half an hour later, dripping wet, I knocked on Tristan’s hotel door. He opened the door wearing a bathrobe, leaning against the frame while smoking. His collar was open, revealing red scratch marks on his chest. Tristan looked down at me coldly, then turned to the person behind him with a smirk. “See, Melanie? I told you she’d run over even in a storm. You lost the bet.” Looking at Tristan, every cell in my body went numb with cold. “Here is your medicine and your watch. I’m not feeling well, so I’m leaving.” Melanie called out to me. “We’re sisters, after all. I’m so sorry we made you run errands in this weather. Come in and dry off.” There wasn’t a shred of apology in her voice. Tristan frowned at my dripping wet figure. “If she tells you to come in, come in.” “Wait a second. Why are you bringing your bag inside? If anything goes missing, Tristan and I won’t be able to explain it.” What could I possibly steal? I let out a mocking laugh. But when I finished drying off and walked out of the bathroom, I saw Tristan playing with the voice recorder from my bag. “Sera, I didn’t realize you were this sick. You actually sneakily recorded my voice?” He pressed play. “Sera, goodnight.” “I love you.” “I’ll always miss you.” The audio cut off. Tristan gripped the recorder tightly. “Did you seriously think you could wake up my memory with these fake, edited clips?”

“They aren’t fake,” I explained quietly. Tristan had recorded those secretly. He had to fly abroad for a week for a major bidding project, but that day happened to be our 100-day anniversary. Back then, I was studying for my master’s degree and often stayed up late organizing notes. He had secretly used my recorder to leave those three sentences. During the year he was missing, there were so many nights I couldn’t get through. I survived by listening to that recording on loop. Tristan turned to me. “Listen. I don’t care how much I loved you before. Right now, Melanie is my only girlfriend.” Right in front of my face, he deleted the files, completely wiping the memory card. That was the last recording of his voice I had. The rest had already been destroyed by Melanie. I wasn’t willing to accept this. I couldn’t accept that the boy who once looked at me with nothing but absolute devotion had completely forgotten and discarded me. I couldn’t accept standing by and doing nothing while he loved someone else. Everyone told me to let it go. But… “Tristan, did you really forget everything? Did you forget when we were ten, I had a high fever and you carried me on your back for a mile just to hail a cab to the hospital?” “Did you forget how we skipped classes to climb walls just to see a concert? Did you forget how you kept practicing your speech to propose to me…” Melanie’s expression grew increasingly panicked. She clutched Tristan’s arm, looking at his tense face. “Tristan… if you remember, will you stop wanting me?” Tristan’s face suddenly went cold. “Enough! I don’t want to remember any of it!” The next second, a painful yank pulled at my ear. My hearing aid was ripped away and clamped in Tristan’s hand. My eyes widened in panic. “What are you doing? Tristan, give it back!” Tristan walked to the window and threw it out. “I don’t want to hear another word from you.” I scrambled to the window, leaning out so far to catch it that I almost fell. Tristan reacted instantly, grabbing my shoulder and pulling me back, yelling in anger, “Sera! Are you insane?! Do you want to die?!” Melanie was visibly startled by my reaction. “Maybe I am insane,” I whispered. Tristan froze. “You can hear me?” Suppressing the bitter ache in my chest, I spoke coldly, “I can read lips. Everything you say, I know.” I pushed him away and ran downstairs to find the hearing aid. This hearing aid was a gift from Tristan. He once said, “Sera, let me be your ears.” He also said, “Once all the family drama is over, we’ll get married.” I held the shattered pieces of the hearing aid in my palm and sobbed uncontrollably in the rain. I went to the hospital alone to get fitted for a new hearing aid. I sat quietly in the corner of the hallway, watching people pass by. In the past, whenever I came to the hospital, Tristan was always by my side. He would handle all the paperwork, treating me like a fragile princess. I unlocked my phone and saw Melanie’s Instagram post. [So happy @Tristan] I hesitated for a second before clicking on the video. On the screen, Tristan was wearing a tailored suit, kneeling on a red carpet, holding a diamond ring as he proposed to Melanie. “Melanie, from the moment you saved my life, I knew I belonged to you. I will use all my love to make you happy. Will you marry me?” Melanie covered her mouth in tears of joy. “Yes! I do!” As she nodded, Tristan let out two tears, pulled her up, and kissed her. The heartwarming scene did nothing to warm my frozen heart. My vision went black, and I collapsed in the hospital hallway. The only person who rushed over to take care of me was Hazel. Hazel signed to me with teary eyes, “Rest up. I put your phone on silent. Just sleep. Everything will be better tomorrow.” I drifted into a restless sleep until a loud bang woke me up. Hazel was violently pushed to the floor by Tristan. He stormed toward my bed. Before I could react, his hands wrapped tightly around my throat. His fingers turned white from the sheer force, his veins bulging. It felt like he wanted to crush my neck. As suffocation took over my brain, Hazel scrambled up, using her small body to frantically pull Tristan away. She was mute, unable to scream. She could only watch in terror as my pale face turned purple. “Tell me! Where did you hide Melanie?! She’s your sister!” Desperate, Hazel grabbed a vase from the nightstand and smashed it over Tristan’s head. A drop of blood fell onto my cheek. Tristan snapped out of his frantic state, his grip on my throat loosening, though his red handprints remained bruised on my skin. Tristan clutched his bleeding forehead, looking tortured. “Sera… Melanie is missing. I’ve searched the entire city and I can’t find her.” He pulled out Melanie’s phone. “The last text she sent was to you.” [Sera, Tristan proposed to me. I thought about it all night, and I feel so guilty. I’m giving him back to you. You must take good care of him like we agreed. I won’t ever show my face to you guys again.] “What agreement? What did you agree with her?” Due to the lack of oxygen, my vision was blurry. “I don’t know where she is.” His hands tightened again. “Stop lying! Who else would want her gone besides you?” “So… that’s the kind of cheap, malicious person I am to you.” Seeing the last spark of light fade from my eyes, Tristan froze for a split second. “I’ll say it one last time. I didn’t kidnap anyone.” Tristan was on the verge of losing his mind. Outside, the storm raged on. In the quiet hospital room, a sharp ringtone broke the silence. “Tristan! We found Melanie’s location using her GPS. She’s at the edge of the cliff! Hurry, she’s going to jump!” Tristan glared at me, then dragged me out of the hospital bed. “You’re coming with me to explain everything.” Hazel tried to block him, typing frantically on her phone, but Tristan completely ignored her. He brutally ripped the IV needle out of the back of my hand, making me gasp in pain. I was thrown into his car. Before I could even buckle my seatbelt, he slammed on the gas. He drove like a maniac through the storm, nearly hitting several cars. With a loud screech, the car skidded on the wet road and crashed into a tree. Terrified, I reached out to check on Tristan’s condition. But he ignored me, restarted the engine with bloodshot eyes, and fought the steering wheel. It wasn’t the first time I’d seen him look this desperate. But this time, it wasn’t for me. “Melanie, you have to be okay…” The scent of blood filled the car. Five minutes later, we finally arrived at the edge of the cliff along the highway. The rain poured down, soaking Melanie’s dress in mud. “Melanie! Don’t do anything stupid! I swear I only love you!” Tristan screamed. She sobbed loudly. “Don’t come near me! I can’t live with this guilt and my love for you. Please forgive me for being selfish!” Tristan shoved me toward her. “Sera! Tell her! Tell her you’ll announce to the media that we broke up mutually!” Our love story had been highly publicized by the media, and our engagement was public knowledge. I turned to look at him, but his eyes were completely fixed on Melanie. He roared at me, entirely blind to the last shred of hope dying in my eyes. “Say it!”

I slowly slid the engagement ring off my finger and threw it off the cliff. “I will make it clear to the media.” He had placed that ring on my finger himself, telling me I could never take it off until our wedding day. “Melanie, did you hear that? She said it herself!” Tristan yelled. It felt like my heart had been tossed into boiling oil, then instantly frozen in ice. Melanie’s tense shoulders relaxed slightly. But suddenly, the wet mud beneath her feet gave way, and she slipped over the edge. She screamed, grabbing a loose pine branch. Tristan rushed forward to catch her, but his right shoulder had been dislocated during our car crash earlier. “Tristan, don’t let go! I don’t want to die! Pull me up!” Melanie clung to his injured arm. Tristan’s face contorted in agony, but he squeezed his eyes shut. “Don’t worry, I’ve got you. Hold on!” The rain made everything slippery, and their grip was sliding. I ran forward and grabbed Melanie’s other arm. “Hold on! We’ll pull you up!” With a hard tug, we managed to pull her back onto safe ground. But just as everyone breathed a sigh of relief, a violent force slammed into my chest, shoving me backward. With a sharp gasp, I lost my balance and tumbled off the cliff. At the brink of death, my hands instinctively clawed at the wet rocks. Three of my fingernails ripped completely off, exposing raw flesh and mud. The agonizing pain snapped me into absolute clarity. Tristan hadn’t expected me to fall. “Sera! Hold on! I’m coming down to get you!” He held onto a thin tree trunk, reaching his hand down to me. Melanie stood frozen above. “Tristan, don’t go down! What if you fall too? Let’s just call the rescue team!” “Sera, don’t blame me… I didn’t mean to push you.” She stood there watching us, the rain washing over our faces. Tristan’s head throbbed with a sharp pain. “Sera… grab my hand!” I looked at Tristan’s pale face. Slowly, my bloody fingers slipped from his grip. I didn’t have the strength to hold on anymore. “Tristan, this time, I’m letting go.” Hearing my words, a look of sheer terror flashed in his eyes. Maybe he finally remembered. He remembered a girl who had once held onto his hand over a suspension bridge, holding on even when her lips were bitten raw and her hands were covered in blood. That day, Tristan had looked at my bleeding hands and screamed, “Sera, let go! If you don’t, you’ll fall with me!” “I won’t!” That day, his family’s enemies had staged a car crash to eliminate him. We had crawled out of the wreckage, nearly falling hundreds of feet into the river below. “I don’t have any warmth or energy left to wait for you to remember anymore.” Even if he got his memory back, he was no longer the Tristan who loved me. “Sera! Hold on to me!” “Tristan,” I whispered, my voice hoarse. “I really don’t want you anymore.” My body felt like it was on fire, scratched and pierced by branches as I fell. When I finally opened my eyes again, the world was silent and dark. I couldn’t hear… and I couldn’t see. Until someone gently placed a brand new hearing aid behind my ear and pulled me into a warm embrace. The man’s hot chest pressed against my back. He leaned close to my neck, his breath warm. “Sera, you lost the bet.” “Now, will you finally look at me?” He intertwined his fingers with mine, his cool lips gently pressing against my scarred, battered fingers. A shiver ran down my spine. “Do you want me to destroy them for you?” Julian’s voice was dark, devoid of any warmth, yet laced with a dangerous, possessive affection. “I’ll be your loyal dog, Sera. Only yours.” Fortunately, my blindness was temporary. By the time I filed a lawsuit against Melanie for attempted murder, Arthur arrived at the hospital with Vivian and Melanie in tow. But they weren’t here to check on my health. The moment Arthur walked in, he slapped me across the face. “Sera! How dare you sue your own sister? Are you trying to make our family the laughingstock of the city?” I had long stopped expecting any warmth from him. “Really? Since when does a sister push her own sister off a cliff?” I threw my phone onto the bed, playing the video. In the recording, Melanie hadn’t slipped and accidentally pushed me. She had clearly waited for the perfect moment to shove me down. I had to thank Tristan’s dashcam for recording everything so clearly. It was just a pity that my vision hadn’t fully recovered yet, so I couldn’t see their terrified, pale faces. Melanie’s smug face contorted with fear. “How… how is this possible? I thought I deleted…” Arthur turned to Melanie in disbelief. “What is the meaning of this?!” He quickly slipped back into his role of the stern, righteous father. Melanie, realizing the deleted video had somehow ended up in my hands, lost her mind. She grabbed my phone and smashed it on the floor, screaming hysterically, “This video is fake! Sera, you’re framing me just because you want to ruin my life!” Even now, she was still acting. I truly admired her acting skills. “Whether the video is fake or not, the police forensics team will decide. And by the way, that wasn’t the only copy.” “Melanie, I’m giving you one chance to apologize. Once you miss it, you’re done.” Vivian knew her daughter well. Realizing Melanie was guilty, she panicked. She raised her hand and slapped Melanie hard. “Kneel down and apologize to your sister!” Melanie clutched her bruised cheek, stomping her foot as she fled the room. “Sera, don’t even dream of getting an apology from me!” By the time Vivian ran out to chase her, Melanie had already vanished. Vivian turned back to me with a tight, fake smile. “Sera, your sister is just immature. I’ve already punished her for you.” A light slap on the cheek counted as punishment? “Oh, is that a punishment? I thought you would punish her the way you used to punish me, Vivian.” When I was six, I tried to save a stray cat Melanie was torturing. In the process, I accidentally stepped on a few of Vivian’s precious roses. When she found out, she whipped my legs with a thick steel ruler until they were black and blue, leaving me unable to stand. Then, she locked me in a dark, cramped closet for two days without food. No matter how much I screamed and cried, she never softened. If a maid hadn’t remembered to let me out, I would have died in there. And now, a single slap was supposed to make us even? How cheap did she think my life was? “Look at me now. I’m half dead. Do you really think a slap is enough?” Vivian’s face darkened, but she couldn’t snap back. “Then what do you want?” I tilted my head and smiled. “Well, I haven’t decided yet. Actually… I don’t really want to forgive her. How about you kneel down in her place, and maybe I’ll think about it?” As we stood in a tense standoff, Tristan suddenly pushed the door open and walked in. “Sera, don’t push people too far!”

I laughed out loud, my voice dripping with mockery. “I haven’t even done anything yet, and you already think I’m pushing them too far, Tristan? If that’s the case, tell Melanie to come here herself and beg for my mercy.” “We’re sisters, after all. Right?” I whispered the last word, my casual attitude making Tristan’s blood boil. “I was the one who made you go to the cliff, so I’ll take responsibility for your injuries. But you fell because you lost your footing, you can’t blame Melanie. Besides, you’re alive and well now.” What a twisted logic. “Who told you I fell because I lost my footing? And who told you I am ‘alive and well’?” “Look at my eyes. The doctor said they were almost blinded by the branches.” Right in front of him, I unpeeled the thick bandages wrapped around my hands. Instantly, the horrific wounds were exposed. My finger bones were severely bruised, and the raw flesh, though scabbed over, looked terrifying. When I pulled back the hospital gown, my skin was covered in deep purple bruises, with a long, jagged scar stretching from my arm all the way to my collarbone. Even Arthur frowned at the sight. No woman would willingly ruin her own body like this. And everyone knew my profession. I was a pianist. My hands were my life. “You…” Tristan stammered, his voice caught in his throat. “I didn’t know you were hurt this badly… I thought…” I ignored the guilt in his eyes. “Didn’t you say I’m alive and well, so I shouldn’t complain? Now you see exactly how ‘well’ I am.” “If I hadn’t been lucky, you would be looking at a corpse right now. What right do you have to ask me to let it go, Tristan?” I looked up, my voice dead cold. “Even if a wound heals, does it mean it was never cut open?” “I’m tired. If you aren’t here to sincerely apologize, get out.” Tristan stood frozen, staring at me. Finally, he dragged a chair over to my bedside. “I misunderstood you, and I caused your injuries. To make it up to you, I will personally take care of you until you recover.” Tristan didn’t look much better himself. His arm was in a cast, his head wrapped in gauze, and his face was extremely pale. He tried to play the emotional card. “You said I used to love you a lot. What was I like back then?” My lips trembled under the bandages, my eyes turning wet. “He would believe me unconditionally.” Tristan didn’t stay long. A frantic phone call came in from Melanie. “Tristan! I’m standing downstairs, and several police officers just arrived to arrest me!” “I’m so scared… where are you?” Tristan hung up the phone with one hand. “Sera, I have to handle something. Wait for me to come back.” As his footsteps faded down the hall, I clutched the blanket and let out a cold, mocking laugh. He promised to take care of me, yet without a second thought, he abandoned me again to run to Melanie. “Sera, please forgive your sister,” Arthur sighed deeply. “Sure,” I smiled brightly. “Really?” Vivian asked with hope in her eyes. “Tell her to throw herself off that same cliff. If she breaks an arm and gets her face ruined, I’ll drop the charges immediately.” Vivian bit her lip, and with a loud thud, she fell to her knees before me. It was a heavy, painful drop. “You said you’d forgive her if I knelt. I beg you, Sera. She’s still young, she can’t have a criminal record.” My face remained expressionless. “I said I’d think about it, Vivian. You actually knelt?” Melanie, having evaded the police, ran back into the room. The moment she saw Vivian kneeling before me, her eyes turned red and she burst into tears. “Mom! Don’t kneel to her!” The police officers quickly caught up. Vivian held onto Melanie’s hand, begging the officers, “Please, officer! My daughter is a good girl! She didn’t do anything!” Once the chaotic noise finally faded down the hallway, I leaned back against my pillow, exhausted. Suddenly, someone pulled back my blanket and slid in beside me. He wrapped his arms around my shoulders, sharing his warmth with me. “Sera, choose me. I will never betray you.” My heart felt incredibly complicated. “Julian, I don’t love you.” “It doesn’t matter,” he whispered, twirling a strand of my hair around his fingers. “I can wait until you completely clear him out of your heart.” I had saved Julian under a bridge during my freshman year of college. Unlike Tristan, Julian was the legitimate heir of the powerful Julian family. But the fight for succession in his family was brutal. Our relationship was strange—he was always quiet, cold, and eccentric. Later, on the day of my engagement to Tristan, he left the country. When I heard his name again, he had become a powerful figure no one dared to cross. I never knew he held such deep, dark feelings for me. He gently traced the soft palm of my hand. “I’ll make them beg on their knees for your forgiveness.” “I’ve already set everything up. Just wait for him to come crawling back.” The Melanie family was already in chaos because of Melanie’s arrest. Normally, they could have resolved this with some money, but because of pressure from the Julian family, every door was slammed in their face. I ignored all the calls from Arthur and Vivian. Once my vision fully returned, I went to the hospital to schedule my cochlear implant surgery. Just as I reached the clinic door, Tristan called. Hearing Tristan’s voice, Julian’s grip on my waist tightened. He leaned against my shoulder, his breathing turning heavy and dark. “Sera, can you please let your sister go?” I shrugged, looking at Julian with a smile. Half of his face was shadowed in the dim light of the hallway, looking dangerously beautiful. Even if I wanted to let her go, Julian wouldn’t allow it. I stared at my scarred hand, my tone dripping with mockery. “I already told you. Unless she throws herself off that cliff and rips off three of her own fingernails, I won’t drop the charges.” “If there’s nothing else, I’m hanging up.” “Wait,” Tristan inhaled sharply. “Sera, can you return the 5% of company shares I gave you?” Return them? Why on earth would I? I directly sent him a video clip. “You forgot, didn’t you?” In the video, a younger Tristan smiled brightly at the camera. “Today, I am voluntarily transferring 5% of my company shares to my beloved Sera. I will never take them back.” In the video, my past self gasped. “How can you do that?” “Sera, you saved my life so many times. Without you, I wouldn’t have anything I have today. If I ever betray you in the future, I hope I die a horrible death.” I had jumped into his arms in the video. “Don’t make such horrible vows!” “Then you can rest easy, because I will never make a mistake. I will only ever believe in my Sera.” The chat window went silent, showing [Typing…]. Tristan called back. “I’ll buy the shares back from you. Name your price.” Name my price? Could he ever afford the price of my youth, my energy, and the agonizing pain in my body and soul? “Thirty billion dollars, Tristan. Are you buying?” “Sera, you are completely out of your mind!” The doctor inside called my name. Julian stood close, his large hands cupping my face. He pressed a soft kiss against my eyelashes. “Sweetheart, pay attention to me,” his deep, magnetic voice whispered in my ear, warm and seductive. “Do you want me to get you a pillow? It’ll make the seat more comfortable.” I blinked, slightly dazed. Since when was he this polite? His voice was clearly heard by Tristan over the line. “Sera! What are you doing? Why is there a man with you?!” Asking me this now? Isn’t it a bit too late? “Tristan, what I do with other men is none of your business. Don’t you think your question is incredibly pathetic and inappropriate?” I hung up immediately. Julian leaned down, pressing his lips against my collarbone. “Sera, I’m jealous.” I gently patted his head. “Julian, I’m never looking back.” Tristan’s family company was in complete chaos. A mysterious force was aggressively buying up board seats, aiming to overthrow Tristan as the majority shareholder. Coincidentally, my 5% shares were the key to tipping the scale. Tristan’s father, Charles, who had already retired, had to step in to protect the company. Over the phone, he tried to play nice. “Sera, I’ve always approved of you and Tristan. In my heart, you are the only daughter-in-law of our family.” “Really? But he’s the one who wanted to call off the engagement in front of the media.” Charles let out a dry laugh. “He’s just acting out. Once you two are married, he will realize who is truly good to him.” In the dimly lit room, Julian was gently applying ointment to my scars, his hand resting on my waist, tightening slightly. He stared at me, a dark fire dancing in his eyes, laced with testing and laziness. “Tell him… as long as Tristan marries you, you will hand over the 5% shares as a wedding gift.”

Julian narrowed his eyes, gently pinching my chin. Seeing how easily the situation had turned, Charles’s voice filled with joy over the phone. “Deal.” He didn’t care who Tristan married; he only cared about his own profits. As expected, Tristan called me shortly after. His voice was hoarse and dripping with pain. “Sera! I will never marry you! Don’t even dream of it!” “I’m impressed you still have the energy to scream at me.” Tristan had grown up being beaten by his father, only rebelling once he became an adult. In the past, I used to hate Charles’s harsh parenting. Whenever Tristan was beaten and locked up, I would sneak in to bring him medicine. “The more you don’t want to do something, the more I’ll make you do it,” I laughed softly. “I’ll be waiting for you to beg me to marry you.” Because of Tristan’s constant delays, his family’s company began to fracture from within. I spent my days peacefully in my new apartment, watering flowers and reading books. Meanwhile, Tristan was running around frantically, trying to make up for the financial damage my 5% shares could cause. Julian stayed by my side, making every day peaceful and sweet. He personally dried my wet hair, lifting me up to sit on the counter. “Sera, it’s time for him to come beg.” Under pressure from his father, Tristan finally agreed to marry me. Charles arranged a private meeting for us. Tristan glared at me, his eyes filled with a rage that wanted to tear me to pieces. I took a sip of my tea. “Mr. Charles, Tristan doesn’t seem very willing. Let’s just forget it. I don’t like forcing people.” Charles immediately stood up. “To marry a girl as beautiful and talented as you is his blessing! How could he be unwilling?” Charles left the room to let us talk privately, giving Tristan a warning look before he closed the door. “Tell me, what do you actually want?” Tristan smashed his teacup onto the table, his eyes burning with hatred. “Didn’t you say you loved me? Otherwise, I wouldn’t have lied to you… and pushed you to this point.” Irritated by my words, Tristan stood up to leave. “Go ahead. The moment you walk out that door, I’ll dump my shares into the open market.” Tristan slammed his fist on the table in frustration. Before he could throw another tantrum, I spoke quietly, “Call Melanie. Tell her the good news about our wedding.” Tristan’s throat bobbed. He suppressed his rage, looking conflicted and miserable. “You need to think this through.” When Melanie, who was still in the detention center, heard the news, she screamed and almost passed out. I took the phone from Tristan’s hand, listening to her hysterical cries with a cold smile. “Melanie, this is how it feels to have what belongs to you stolen. Do you like it?” On the day we went to try on wedding dresses, Tristan handed me a share transfer agreement. “Sign this now, and we’ll get married.” His tone was incredibly cold, making me burst out laughing. “You seem to have forgotten, Tristan. I’m the one holding all the cards here.” Tristan frowned. “Then what do you want?” I looked at the faint, pale ring mark on my finger, tilting my head. “Go find the engagement ring you made me throw off the cliff.” “The moment you bring it back is the moment I sign this contract.” I walked into the dressing room alone. I saw Julian standing inside, his long eyelashes casting a shadow over his dark, silent eyes. I pulled the curtain shut. Julian stepped forward, wrapping his arms tightly around my waist from behind. “The wedding dress is beautiful. I wish you’d only wear it for me.” Looking at my reflection in the mirror, the scars on my shoulders were hard to hide. Julian suddenly leaned down and pressed a deep kiss against my scar. I gasped, quickly covering my mouth with my hand. At that moment, the sound of Tristan’s leather shoes echoed outside the dressing room. “Sera, I’ll go find the ring. You better keep your word.” Seeing my tense expression, Julian smirked. He pressed closer to my lower back, his breath warm against my ear. “Sera, do you like this?” Overwhelmed by the sensation, I couldn’t find the strength to answer Tristan. I bit my lip and glared at Julian. Hearing no response, Tristan reached out to pull back the curtain. “Are you in there?” I couldn’t take it anymore. I leaned forward and bit Julian’s hand. “Stop it!” Julian let out a low chuckle, his handsome face filled with dark amusement. “I’m changing… Tristan, I want you to personally find that ring and bring it back to me.” I followed Tristan to the highway cliff. I watched him use climbing gear to go down the cliff again and again, searching through the mud and rocks only to return empty-handed. Eventually, I got bored and left him there. Later, the hospital contacted me saying Tristan had lost his footing, tumbled down the cliff, and stayed trapped there all night. Fortunately, he was rescued. I walked into his hospital room at a leisurely pace. He was covered in bruises, his leg wrapped in a thick cast. “Did you find it?” Tristan coughed violently. “No. I couldn’t find it.” I curled my lips into a sweet, innocent smile. “Of course you couldn’t. I had my people retrieve it days ago.” “Sera! You played me!” He tried to sit up in anger, but I pressed him back down by his injured shoulder. “Tristan, remember this feeling. This is what it feels like to be played. Does it feel good?” His eyes were filled with a chaotic mix of emotions as he stared at me. He seemed to remember that rainy day on the cliff. After a long silence, his lips parted. “I’m sorry…” I had waited so long for this apology. But now, it felt incredibly cheap. “Throwing something away is so easy, Tristan. But trying to find it again? It’s harder than climbing to heaven.” I loosened my grip on the lawsuit, allowing Melanie to be released on bail. If she stayed locked up, the game wouldn’t be fun anymore. The moment Melanie was released, she threw a massive tantrum. She tried to go to Tristan’s house multiple times, but Charles blocked her every single time. She was furious but had no way to vent. The current situation was too tense, and her family didn’t dare let her make a scene that would attract the media. In desperation, Melanie staged a suicide attempt by pretending to take an overdose. Of course, it was just a show. Unfortunately for her, it barely made a splash. When I heard the news, I walked into her hospital room. The moment she saw me, she grabbed a flower vase and threw it straight at my head. Arthur stood by her side, his face cold and disappointed. Looking at the chaotic state of the family, his patience had worn thin. “Sera, look at what you’ve done to this family! Do you even respect me as your father?!” Since he asked, I decided to be completely honest. “Do you even deserve to be called my father? From the moment you helped Melanie steal everything I worked for, crushing my dreams into the dirt, you should have known our relationship was dead.” I had recently discovered through a private investigator that Melanie was only a year younger than me. That meant while my mother was dying of cancer in her hospital bed, Arthur was already sleeping with Vivian. When I was five, they moved into our house, taking over my mother’s room and belongings. Because Melanie was jealous of my talent in dancing when we were children, she staged a “car accident” that crushed my bones, ensuring I could never dance again. She had spent her entire life trying to eliminate me. “I only called you ‘Dad’ out of respect for giving me life. But do you deserve it? This cold, rotten family makes me sick.” Arthur’s blood pressure spiked, and he clutched the hospital bed, gasping for air. “I’ve already sent the legal severance agreement to the house. You better sign it.” I looked at him coldly. “Otherwise, if any ‘accidents’ happen to you, I will fight with everything I have to take every single penny of your inheritance and spend it all.” “You better stay alive, because I have a massive gift waiting for you all.”

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During our mandatory weekend corporate retreat, I took leave to be by my wife’s side for her emergency surgery. When I got back, Marcus fined me seven thousand dollars in front of the entire office. “Company policy states that team synergy comes before everything else!” Marcus barked. “Ethan, as a senior designer, you set a terrible example by skipping a company event. Your penalty is doubled!” The very next day, I saw his young secretary, Tiffany, carrying a brand-new Chanel bag worth exactly seven thousand dollars. So that’s how he wanted to play? Fine. I’m done being his doormat! The news of me getting fined seven thousand dollars for skipping the retreat spread through the office like wildfire. In the breakroom, my long-time rival, Carter, looked at me and shook his head. “Man, you should have just sucked it up and apologized. You’ve got to request time off way in advance.” “I submitted the paperwork a week ago. He sat on it and refused to approve it on purpose,” I said, pouring myself a cup of coffee. Carter leaned in, his eyes widening. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you, but Marcus’s connection just got back from overseas. Supposedly some hotshot Ivy League grad. He wants to bring him in to burnish his own resume.” The puzzle pieces instantly clicked. The whole “making an example out of me” speech was pure garbage. Marcus just wanted an excuse to kick me down so he could promote his own guy. Fine. I’d gladly clear the path for them. The moment I got back to my desk, Tiffany tapped on my computer monitor. “Ethan, pack up your office. You’re moving out to the common area.” I glanced at the open cubicles outside. Our design department was structured with open cubicles, but as the lead designer, I had a private office to meet with clients. Moving me out was a blatant demotion. “Tiffany, you can’t just tell me to pack up. I need an official notice.” “An official notice? Sure, let me spell it out for you. You’ve been stripped of your lead title. You’re just a regular designer now. Got it?” Just then, Marcus walked out of his office. Seeing me still sitting there, he frowned. “What’s taking so long, Ethan? Why aren’t you moving?” “Tiffany says I’ve been demoted. Just because I missed a retreat?” “Exactly. I’ve already reported this to the Chairman. You refused to participate in team building and openly defied company policy. You’re lucky you aren’t fired. You’re on probation now. If you don’t like it, feel free to file a complaint with HR!” I chuckled. “Alright. But I want the company to issue an official written notice. Otherwise, I’m not moving a single box.” Marcus pointed a finger at me. “You asked for it! Tiffany, draft the notice right now! Some people just don’t know when to be grateful. Let’s show him how things work around here!” Within two minutes, Tiffany pinged the entire company WhatsApp group with the official PDF of my demotion. I saved the document to my personal drive, packed my things, and walked out to the cubicles. Right after that, Tiffany added a new user to our group chat. “Everyone, please welcome Tristan, our new Design Lead! He’s a prestigious Ivy League grad and will be leading the design department starting today!” Everyone in the office stared at me in shock. I didn’t say a word. I just sat at my new cubicle, pulled out my phone, and started playing games. A few suck-ups in the chat sent welcoming emojis, but the atmosphere in the office was dead silent. Everyone knew what was really happening—I had been robbed. My former team members came over to vent for me. “Ethan, this is messed up. They can’t just throw you out like this. It’s dirty.” “Yeah, we just submitted the new blueprints yesterday. If the client asks about the changes, what are we supposed to say?” I shrugged. “Management made the call. We just do what we’re told.” My calm reaction left them utterly confused. But I wasn’t about to waste my breath. It was obvious they wanted to use my hard work to feed this new guy’s ego. Too bad they were in such a rush. Half an hour later, Tristan walked out of his office, clearly looking to establish dominance over me. “We have thirty designers in this department. Some people have been slacking off and collecting free paychecks. That ends today,” he announced loudly. “Starting now, everyone must submit one complete design concept per day. If you can’t finish, you stay late. If you can’t handle the pressure, the door is right there.” He then pointed a finger directly at me. “You. Ethan, right? I heard about you before I got here. I don’t care how many successful projects you had in the past. Under my watch, you follow the rules. Understood?” He looked down at me, his face dripping with arrogance. I nodded and gave him a dry smile. “Understood.”

Seeing how compliant I was, Tristan smirked. He went on to add two more rules: strict clock-in times and detailed client feedback logs. The office instantly erupted into quiet groans. Sometimes we had to meet clients across town, and some weren’t even in the same state. It was impossible to clock in physically at the office every morning. This new system was going to ruin everyone’s schedule. But as soon as the complaints started, Marcus shut them down. “No rules, no order! Did you all forget about the seven-thousand-dollar fine we just handed out? Let me tell you, I brought Tristan in to fix your lazy, undisciplined habits!” The room went dead silent. I kept my mouth shut. If they wanted me to clock in, I’d clock in. If they wanted daily sketches, I’d sketch. I was in no rush. In five days, they would regret this. Tristan officially took over my office that afternoon, acting like he owned the place. I wasn’t bothered at all. I spent ten minutes using an AI generator to produce a basic design sketch, submitted it before 5:00 PM, shut down my computer, and clocked out. Carter saw me leaving and teased, “Not staying to save the company today?” “Hey, we have to follow the new rules, right? Strict work hours,” I waved at him and walked out. Carter was the second-best designer in the department. He had been trying to take my job for years, but now that I was demoted, he didn’t get the promotion either. Instead, some random guy had parachuted in over both of us and brought a bunch of annoying micro-management rules with him. Seeing me leave, Carter rolled his eyes, shut down his laptop, and left too. Getting off work exactly on time was a luxury I hadn’t experienced in years. Normally, I would be revising blueprints or negotiating with clients until midnight, only to find out they liked the very first draft best. This level of freedom was actually nice. On my way home, I picked up some groceries and made a warm pot of soup for Chloe. She was surprised to see me home so early. When she found out I had been demoted, she looked incredibly guilty. “Is this because of my surgery?” “It has nothing to do with you, honey. Honestly, the company needed a wake-up call anyway. Who says only Gen Z can quiet quit? I can do it too.” Chloe finally smiled, her worries washing away. Since I actually had a free evening, I set up the projector and we watched a movie together. I posted a picture of our cozy setup on my Instagram. Carter commented almost instantly: Look at you, living the dream! I replied with a smiley face. But when I checked the company WhatsApp group, it was a war zone. Marcus was throwing passive-aggressive shade in the group chat. “Some people only care about enjoying life. Have you finished your deliverables? Are you making enough money to afford being this lazy?” Seeing him target me so obviously, I laughed out loud. I tagged him directly in the group chat. “Marcus, let’s keep business separate from personal life. I value my health. I enjoy my free time, but I also haven’t missed a single deadline.” Then, I uploaded my entire quarterly performance report and client feedback logs directly into the chat. The Chairman and senior executives were in this group, so I had absolutely nothing to fear. Sure enough, a second later, Marcus slid into my DMs, frantically demanding I delete the message. I ignored him and put my phone on Do Not Disturb. The next morning, the moment I walked into the office, I was summoned to Marcus’s office. Marcus stared at me, his eyes dark. “I’m not going to waste my breath, Ethan. Hand over your current client files to Tristan today. Also, pay your fine.” “The transition is fine. But I don’t have seven thousand dollars in cash. Just deduct it from my salary. My wife’s surgery was expensive. I’m broke.” Marcus sneered. “Don’t play games with me.” “I’m not playing games, boss. I requested leave a week ago, and I told you three months ago that my wife was having surgery and money would be tight. That’s why I took on those high-budget clients, which you approved. I’m broke. If you want seven grand, take it out of my commission. My bonus and commissions for this month should be around that much anyway.”

Hearing this, Marcus’s brows furrowed tightly. I raised an eyebrow at him. “Seriously, I don’t have the cash. Do what you have to do.” I turned and walked out. Livid, his face turned purple, and he chased after me into the main floor. “Ethan, don’t think you’re untouchable just because you’ve been here a long time!” The entire department stopped and stared. I turned around calmly. “I don’t think that at all, Marcus. I follow the rules. Just deduct it.” Marcus thought I was bluffing. He immediately instructed payroll to alter my pay stub. Aside from my base salary, my entire seven thousand dollars in commission was wiped out! I remained completely unbothered. I kept showing up on time, leaving exactly at five, and submitting basic sketches. They couldn’t find a single real reason to write me up. Until Mr. Harrison from Apex Group showed up. I had handled all the preliminary drafts for Apex, but since all my files had been forced over to Tristan, he was now the primary contact. Apex Group was our biggest client. We had worked with them for three years without a single hiccup. This new project alone was worth over ten million dollars in design fees. Marcus and Tristan were sweating bullets, waiting by the entrance early in the morning. When I strolled in right on the dot, Marcus glared at me. I ignored him and slipped into the breakroom to eat my breakfast. Mr. Harrison arrived shortly after, surrounded by his entourage, and was escorted straight into the main conference room. A few minutes later, Tiffany marched over to my cubicle. “Ethan, take these physical blueprints and deliver them to the Westside development site.” The Westside site was on the complete opposite side of the city. With morning traffic, a round trip would easily take four hours. “Tiffany, isn’t there a digital version?” “The client requested physical copies. Go now, don’t drag your feet!” Fine. I’ll go. I took the prints and left. The moment I arrived at the Westside site, my phone rang. It was Marcus. “Ethan, where the hell are you?! Get back to the office right now!” “Marcus, Tiffany sent me to deliver blueprints to the Westside site. I just got here. What’s wrong?” “Send me the design concept and the core structural files for the Apex project!” I laughed. “Everything was in the transition files I handed over to Tristan. Anyway, I have to go meet the site manager. Bye!” I hung up immediately. A second later, Tristan called. “Ethan, let me remind you, those files belong to the company! You can’t steal them! If this deal falls through, you will be held financially liable!” I didn’t even bother replying. I blocked his number. Carter texted me a few minutes later, giving me the live updates. Apparently, Mr. Harrison had realized the moment he sat down that his lead contact had been replaced. He asked a few technical questions, and Tristan had stumbled through them like an idiot, unable to answer a single one. Mr. Harrison’s face had gone completely cold. Finally, he asked about the smart-home patent involved in the design. Was it secured? Marcus and Tristan looked at each other, completely clueless. Now, Mr. Harrison was demanding to see the patent certification, and since they had no idea where it was, they were panicking. Bro, you set a trap for them, didn’t you? Carter texted. Damn, you played them beautifully! No wonder you’ve been so relaxed. You were waiting for this! Without that patent certification, the entire design was useless. The sketches were basically expensive trash, and the ten-million-dollar deal would vanish. The higher-ups would definitely skin Marcus and Tristan alive. Hearing Carter’s amused voice over the phone when I called him back, I just chuckled. Suddenly, I heard Tristan’s panicked voice in the background of Carter’s phone. “Is that Ethan?! Give me the phone!” “Ethan! Get your ass back here right now! What is going on with the patent?!” “Sorry, Tristan. I can’t help you. I’m no longer the lead on this project. You’re the genius Ivy League grad, figure it out.” “Ethan! I know you’re pissed, okay? Just come back. We can negotiate!” Marcus’s voice cut in, desperate. “Just come back and help us get through this meeting first!” I flatly refused. “How could I? This is Tristan’s big debut with our most important client. I wouldn’t want to steal his spotlight.” Tristan roared through the receiver, “Ethan, don’t get cocky! I don’t need you to close this damn deal!” I smiled coldly. “Let me tell you something. In less than three hours, you’ll be on your knees begging me to come back. Don’t believe me? Let’s watch.”

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Julian was a famous “doting dad” on Instagram. To document our daughter’s growth, he set up a shared family iCloud album. “Babe, upload your photos directly here. Whether I’m working late or on a business trip, I want to see our little princess as soon as possible.” I believed him. Every day, I diligently uploaded photos, basking in the happiness of his likes and comments. Until one day, my phone memory ran out. I logged onto my laptop to clean up the iCloud space and accidentally clicked on a hidden, locked folder. A system prompt popped up: “Do you want to merge ‘My Only Love’ album data?” I clicked confirm. Instantly, thousands of photos flooded my screen. In the photos, Julian was holding another woman, with a boy who looked slightly older than my daughter standing next to them. Under every single picture, Julian had left a journal-like caption: “May 20, 2025. Spending Valentine’s with my real love. Had to find time to appease the maid at home. Exhausting.” “Oct 1, 2025. My son’s drawing is amazing! Way better than that useless brat at home who does nothing but cry.” It turned out his fatherly love was a mountain indeed. But it was crushing me and my daughter to death.

Looking at the dense rows of photos on the laptop screen, my blood ran cold. The woman in the photos was Sienna Ward. She was a charity case—a low-income college student I had personally sponsored through my family’s foundation years ago. And the boy Julian was holding high in the air had his exact facial features. They looked like they were cast from the same mold. Thousands of photos documented the boy’s life from birth to five years old. Just an hour ago, Julian had been holding our feverish daughter, crying and saying he wished he could take her pain away. Yet, he had just updated a status in this hidden album: “The useless brat is sick again. So annoying. Crying in the middle of the night keeping me awake. My son is strong, just like me.” Click. The sound of keys turning came from the front door. Julian was back. Panicked, I closed the tab and pulled the power cord of my laptop. “Babe? Why are the lights off?” Julian’s voice came from the living room, sounding as gentle as ever. I took a deep breath, forcing myself to stand up. “I’m… putting Lily to sleep.” Julian pushed the bedroom door open, holding a cheap pink plush toy. “Look what Daddy got for his little princess! I saw it on the street and thought it was so cute.” He smiled and walked over, reaching out to feel Lily’s forehead. Instinctively, I stepped in front of him, blocking his hand. His hand hung in mid-air. He looked at me, surprised. “What’s wrong, Chloe? Still worried about her fever?” I stared at his face. This was the face I had loved for seven years. The man I thought was the most honest, hardworking husband in the world. Now, he just looked disgusting. “No. I’m just worried your hands are cold. I don’t want to shock her awake.” I looked away, not wanting him to see the burning hatred in my eyes. Julian didn’t care. He tossed the cheap toy onto the nightstand. “Good. You scared me. I was so worried at the office today that I couldn’t even focus on work.” As he spoke, he pulled out his phone. From the corner of my eye, I saw him quickly switch accounts on Snapchat, his fingers flying across the screen. No doubt he was texting her. “Babe, you’ve had a long day. Go take a shower. I’ll watch the baby.” He gently guided me toward the bathroom, his voice dripping with affection. The moment the bathroom door closed, I heard him whisper outside. “Hey, buddy, not asleep yet? Do you miss Daddy?” It was completely different from the dismissive tone he used when calling our daughter “little princess.” I turned on the faucet and let the cold water splash over my face. The woman in the mirror had a pale face and red eyes. This was me. Chloe Miller. For him, I had given up a high-paying corporate job to become a housewife, turning myself into a tired, neglected woman. And in his private notes, I was just a “maid” and a “stupid spendthrift.” Since you love acting so much, Julian… I’ll play along. My phone buzzed. It was a Snapchat from Julian: “Babe, why is the shared album lagging? Did you touch something?” Even through the screen, I could feel his panic. “No, I just cleared my cache. Why?”

“Oh, nothing. Just a system glitch. Scared me for a second.” He was testing me. If I rushed out to confront him now, he would just claim it was a misunderstanding or a glitch. He might even turn it around and accuse me of not trusting him. I had no concrete proof yet. Those photos were still in his cloud. He could wipe them clean in a second. I had to endure. When I walked out of the bathroom, Julian was sitting by the bed, tucking Lily in. His phone was placed face down on the nightstand. “Done? Come, lie down.” He patted the spot next to him, wearing his signature “perfect husband” smile. Suppressing my urge to vomit, I lay down, turning my back to him. “Honey, I want to get a new phone. This one is getting really laggy.” I brought it up casually. Julian stiffened for a second, then wrapped his arms around my waist. “Sure, let’s get one tomorrow. But… the company’s cash flow is a bit tight lately. Can we get a cheaper model?” If this were before, I would have felt bad for his startup struggles and said, “Never mind, I don’t need one.” But now, it was just pathetic. In that hidden album, Sienna was wearing a Cartier bracelet worth $7,000. He bought it for her last month—right after he told me his company was struggling and asked me to sell the gold bullion my parents gave me as a wedding gift. “Sure, whatever you say.” The next morning, Julian prepared breakfast. He took out his phone, snapping photos of the table from a dozen different angles. “A beautiful day starts with making breakfast for the two women I love most,” he captioned it and posted it on Instagram. Within minutes, the comments blew up. “Julian is literally the perfect husband!” “Chloe is so lucky. I’m so jealous!” “Men who care about family like this are rare nowadays. Treasure him, girl!” I looked at the comments, feeling sick. While Julian was showering, I picked up his phone. The password was changed. It used to be my birthday, but now it showed an error. With trembling hands, I typed in the boy’s birthday—the date from the hidden photo captions. “0520.” Unlocked. His wallpaper was still a family photo of the three of us, but his pinned contact on Snapchat was saved as “Client – Mr. Johnson.” I opened the chat. The messages were vile. “Client – Mr. Johnson” (Sienna): “Babe, our son wants that limited-edition Lego set. It’s $300. Just buy that useless girl a cheap toy. Don’t waste money.” Julian replied instantly: “Don’t worry, that brat doesn’t know the difference. Her future fund is for our son anyway. I won’t waste a penny on her.” “Client – Mr. Johnson”: “You’re the best, babe. Love you!” Followed by an intimate photo of Sienna. Tears hot with anger fell onto the screen. That is my daughter. His own flesh and blood. In his eyes, she was just a cash cow to fund his illegitimate son’s life? I took out my phone and photographed every single chat log. My hands shook so hard I almost dropped the phone. The shower stopped. I quickly put his phone back, wiped my tears, and slipped into the kitchen. Julian walked out, drying his hair, humming a tune. “Babe, I have a three-day business trip to Orlando next week for a big project.” He hugged me from behind. “Thanks for taking care of everything while I’m gone.” Orlando. Disney World is in Orlando. In the hidden album, Sienna had posted a wish list last night: “I want to take my son to Disney World to see the fireworks.” I turned around, straightened his collar, and gave him a gentle smile. “Sure, honey. Don’t worry. I’ll take care of home.” Since you want to go so badly, Julian, I’ll prepare a grand gift for you. A gift that will send your whole family straight to hell.

The day Julian returned from his “trip” was Lily’s sixth birthday. He suggested a massive party in our family group chat on WhatsApp, inviting all our relatives and friends. “Our little princess’s birthday must be grand!” he sent a voice note, sounding incredibly generous. His mother, Eleanor, spammed thumbs-up emojis. “My son is so responsible and caring!” I stared at the screen coldly. Just five minutes prior, I had overheard his phone call with Eleanor on the balcony. “Mom, invite as many people as possible, especially the wealthy relatives. We can collect cash gifts and checks to cover my son’s private school tuition.” “A birthday party for a girl doesn’t cost much anyway. We’ll save the rest for my boy.” Eleanor had giggled, praising him for being smart. To them, my daughter’s birthday was just a fundraising scam. The party was held in the grand ballroom of a luxury downtown hotel. Julian even hired a local media crew to film it, claiming he wanted to “document beautiful memories.” In reality, he wanted to boost his “perfect family man” brand to attract investors for his company. The venue was packed. Sienna walked right up to me, bold as brass. “Hi, Chloe. I’ve always heard how supportive you are. Nice to finally meet you.” She scanned me up and down, her eyes full of provocation. On her wrist, the $7,000 Cartier bracelet gleamed under the chandeliers. Bought with my wedding gold. I looked at her like she was a clown. “Nice to meet you, Vice President Ward. That’s a beautiful bracelet. It looks awfully familiar.” Sienna’s smile stiffened, and she instinctively hid her wrist behind her back. Julian quickly intervened. “Alright, we’re all family here. Let’s go inside and sit down.” He seated Sienna at the VIP table, right next to me. The banquet began. Julian stood on stage, giving a tearful speech thanking me. “I want to thank my wife, Chloe. She gave me a warm home and our beautiful daughter.” He sounded so sincere that the crowd erupted into applause. But I saw his eyes constantly darting toward Sienna. They were exchanging flirtatious glances right in front of me. “Now, let’s take a look at a video of our little princess growing up.” The giant screen lit up. Warm music played. Lily rolling over for the first time, taking her first steps, calling him “Daddy”… It was incredibly touching. Many relatives were wiping tears. But near the end of the video, the screen flickered. Suddenly, a photo flashed onto the screen. It stayed for just one second. In the photo, a boy was sitting on Julian’s shoulders, holding the exact same plush toy Julian had bought for Lily. The background? Disney World in Orlando. The crowd gasped. “Whose kid is that? He looks exactly like Julian.” “Wasn’t that photo taken a few days ago? I thought Julian was on a business trip?” Julian’s face drained of color. He almost dropped the microphone. He looked frantically at the control booth, screaming, “What’s going on?! Turn it off! Turn it off now!” The screen went black. But the terror on his face was exposed for everyone to see. I sneered inwardly. Don’t panic, Julian. This is just the appetizer. Julian wiped his sweat, trying to laugh it off. “Ah… that was an editing mistake. That’s a relative’s kid. Don’t misunderstand, everyone!” The guests exchanged looks. No one said anything, but suspicion was already brewing. This birthday party was destined to be the start of his nightmare.

After the guests left, Julian couldn’t wait to grab all the gift envelopes and checks, stuffing them into a black briefcase. “Babe, the company is facing a cash crunch. I’ll take this money to keep things running.” He hid the bag behind his back, terrified I would snatch it. Tens of thousands of dollars. That was our daughter’s birthday money, and he was stealing it for his bastard’s tuition. I watched his desperate face and smiled inwardly. “Why don’t we refinance the house?” I threw out the bait. “Interest rates for business loans are low right now. You can use that money for cash flow, and once you make a profit, you can buy me a new purse.” Julian’s eyes lit up. Our house was worth over $1.5 million, co-owned by both of us. “Babe, you’re a genius! Let’s do it!” The next morning, I handed him a stack of documents. “This is the bank agreement. Just sign here.” I flipped to the signature page. Without reading a word, Julian scribbled his name. His mind was entirely on using the cash to fund Sienna’s demands. He didn’t notice that hidden beneath the loan papers were a Deed of Gift and a Waiver of Property Rights. He was signing over his entire share of the house to our daughter. Once signed, he had absolutely no claim to this property. After signing, Julian happily left with a credit card I gave him. The card only had a $5,000 limit. Just enough for him to buy Sienna a bag or pay a small deposit. As for the rest of the money? He would never see a dime of it. That night, Sienna bragged on Instagram, showing off a contract for a luxury condo in a premium school zone. Caption: “Only the best for my baby boy. Daddy is the best!” I looked into it. The down payment was made with funds Julian had embezzled from his own company. Just then, Lily started crying from her bedroom. I rushed in. Her face was flushed red, and her body was convulsing. She was having a febrile seizure. Panicking, I scooped her up and ran outside. It was pouring rain, and I couldn’t hail an Uber. With shaking hands, I called Julian. “The user you are trying to reach is busy…” Once, twice, ten times… Always busy. Rain mixed with tears on my face. Lily’s convulsions got worse, her lips turning blue. Finally, the call went through. I heard loud music, laughter, and a boy screaming excitedly: “Daddy, lift me higher! I want to ride the horse!” I screamed into the phone, “Julian! Lily is having a seizure! Get back here and drive us to the hospital now!” The other end went quiet for a second. Then Julian’s annoyed voice barked back: “It’s just a fever! Give her some Tylenol! Stop overreacting! I’m closing a multi-million dollar deal right now. Don’t bother me!” Beep— The line went dead. At that moment, I heard my heart shatter. Lily stopped moving in my arms, her little hand falling limp. I knelt in the pouring rain, sobbing in despair. Julian. Since you don’t care if she lives or dies… Don’t blame me for dragging you to hell. Holding Lily, I ran into the middle of the road to block a car. A black SUV slammed its brakes in front of me. The window rolled down, revealing a stern, cold face. “Get in.”

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Ethan and I grew up together. When I was grounded as a kid, he would sneak out to stay with me. When I was sick, he would drive across town just to get me my favorite strawberry cake. When I was bullied, he fought them until he bled, then looked at me with a bruised face and smiled. “Don’t worry, Chloe. I’ve got you.” Everyone said he loved me. I believed them too. Until my twentieth birthday. Tipsy and brave, I finally gathered the courage to kiss him. But Ethan took a step back, his handsome brow furrowing. He took Naomi’s hand, who was standing right next to him, and said: “Chloe, I have only ever seen you as a sister.” Our friends went dead silent, staring at us. After that, I stopped crossing the line. I stayed in my place as his “sister.” I watched him and Naomi go everywhere together. I even smiled and gave him advice, teaching him how to make it up to Naomi when they fought. But one night, Ethan got wasted. With bloodshot eyes, he grabbed my wrist. “Are you really that okay with this? Can’t you at least show some jealousy?” I just smiled. But I didn’t want to cross that line anymore.

At the company’s anniversary gala, Ethan walked up to me with a champagne glass. His voice was as gentle as ever. “Chloe, I will drive you home after this.” I shook my head, my eyes drifting to Naomi, who was laughing and chatting with some investors nearby. “No need. Stay with Naomi. She is wearing high heels tonight; it is not convenient for her to be alone.” Ethan’s brow furrowed slightly. “When did you start being so polite with me?” I smiled but didn’t say anything. It wasn’t politeness. It was the boundary a “sister” should keep. During the highlight of the gala, the host decided to play a game to hype up the crowd. “Mr. Carter, what would you say is the luckiest moment of your life?” The spotlight hit Ethan. He let out a soft smile, his gaze sweeping past the crowd to land on Naomi. “The luckiest moment… was meeting my sunshine when I thought my entire world had gone dark.” The crowd cheered and swooned. Naomi blushed and lowered her head. And I, sitting in a dark corner, downed my glass of red wine. Only I knew that during those “dark days” he talked about, I was the one who pulled all-nighters for three months straight to rewrite our business proposals. I was the one who poured all of my parents’ inheritance into his company to save him from bankruptcy. But now that he was in the clear, Naomi was his sunshine. And I was nothing. Some drunk colleague boldly teased him. “Hey Ethan, what about Chloe then? You two grew up together. That is a real-life childhood sweetheart romance!” “Yeah! If it weren’t for Chloe back then, Carter Tech wouldn’t even exist today!” The atmosphere instantly turned awkward. The smile on Ethan’s face faded. Just as he was about to speak, I stood up first. I raised my glass toward them and smiled. “Guys, stop joking around. Ethan and I are like family. As his sister, I only want him to be happy.” “Come on, let’s toast to Ethan and Naomi!” I threw my head back and drank the wine, swallowing all my bitterness and pain along with it. After the gala, I took the initiative to leave early. Ethan and Naomi caught up to me from behind. “Chloe.” Ethan called out, but before he could say more, Naomi’s phone rang. She answered it, and her face instantly turned pale. “Ethan… my mom. She has been rushed to the ER!” Ethan’s expression changed. He immediately held her up. “Don’t panic. I will drive you there right now.” He turned to look at me, hesitating. Even though this had happened countless times, seeing him hesitate still made my heart ache. I took a deep breath and pointed to the headlights of an approaching car. “My Uber is here. You guys should go. Her mom is more important.” Ethan looked relieved. He got into the car with Naomi. The window rolled down. He leaned out, his brow furrowed as he said, “The final pitch for the Starlight Initiative is tomorrow. Don’t wander off. Wait for me to come back.”

I laughed at myself. Ethan wouldn’t come back. And I wouldn’t be stupid enough to wait. I pulled my coat tighter and walked down the street alone. If every heartbreak is a slow death, then my heart had already died twice because of Ethan. The first time was on my twentieth birthday, when he announced to everyone that Naomi was his girlfriend. I deleted every cozy post about him on my Snapchat, and threw away every gift he had ever given me. But twenty years of connection are carved deep into your bones. Even now, the model spaceship he built for me sits on my bookshelf. He once told me he would take me to see the universe. A custom gown he stayed up all night to buy for me still hangs in my closet. And the Starlight Initiative on my laptop was a dream we had brainstormed since college. It was the career we swore to build together for the rest of our lives. He once said, “Chloe, my parents passed away early. I have no family left. I want you to fill the rest of my life.” But later, he said, “Naomi is the only one I owe in this world. Chloe, don’t cross the line. You are just my sister.” My twentieth birthday was my first attempt to set myself free. And this time, it was time for a final goodbye. As long as tomorrow’s Starlight pitch went smoothly and we secured the funding, I could disappear from his life forever. But the next day, when I stood in the conference room, Ethan was missing. His phone went unanswered. I called him again and again, moving from anxiety to complete numbness. Finally, on the dozens of attempts, the call connected. “Ethan, where are—” “Oh, Chloe,” Naomi’s sleepy voice came through the speaker. “Ethan stayed up with me all night. He is too exhausted and is still asleep. Is there something you need?” My mind went blank. Through the speaker, I heard Ethan’s muffled, groggy voice. “Who is it? Is that Chloe?” “No, babe. Just a telemarketer…” For the next two hours, I felt like a lone soldier, facing the investors’ sharp questions and doubts all by myself. But Starlight was a dream created by both of us. Without his technical presentation, my explanations sounded hollow and powerless. In the end, the investors politely declined. I packed up all the project files alone and left the office. For a whole week, I locked myself in my room. I frantically called every investor we knew. But the response was always the same. “Miss Miller, we are sorry, but we cannot trust a project where the core team shows such a massive lack of commitment.” Until an investor I was close with finally spilled the truth. “Chloe, stop wasting your breath. Naomi Vance personally explained everything to us. She said you and Ethan have irreconcilable personal conflicts, which led to this disaster. She said for the sake of the project, she will be taking over.”

When the call ended, my body went cold. I walked to the mirror and looked at my pale, exhausted reflection. Suddenly, it all felt so pointless. On the eighth day, Ethan finally showed up. “I am sorry, Chloe. I—” Before he could finish, I used all my strength to slap him across the face. “You bastard, Ethan!” His face turned to the side from the impact. But he didn’t get annoyed like he usually did. He just took it in silence. Once I stopped breathing heavily, he explained in a low voice. “Naomi’s mother was in critical condition. I couldn’t just stand by.” “We can always find another opportunity for the project. But a life can’t be replaced.” My hands shook with rage. I pointed at his face, but not a single word could come out. He apparently thought this explanation wasn’t enough. He grabbed my wrists, forcing me to look into his eyes, and said syllable by syllable: “You grew up in a happy, loving family, Chloe. You can’t understand the terror of losing your only family.” I stared at him in utter disbelief. He knew. He knew damn well that my parents died in a plane crash during my senior year of college. That was the deepest wound in my heart. He had held me back then, promising he would be my family and stay with me forever. At this moment, the last shred of warmth in my heart evaporated. I suddenly laughed. I slowly pulled my hands out of his grip and looked at him calmly. “Yeah, you are right. I don’t understand.” “Ethan, so in your heart, even my parents’ tragic deaths can’t compare to a single whine from Naomi.” The color drained from his face instantly. His lips trembled, as if he wanted to explain. But I didn’t want to hear it. Like a madwoman, I grabbed everything within reach and hurled it at him, screaming at him to get the hell out. He just watched me quietly. Once I collapsed to the floor out of exhaustion, he walked over, looked down at me, and sighed. “Chloe, look at yourself. You are only acting this spoiled because you know how much I pamper you.” “I will find new investors for the Starlight Initiative. But since you are emotionally unstable right now, Naomi will take your place.” After he left, I curled up in the mess of my room and sobbed until I lost my voice. My phone buzzed. It was a text from Naomi. “Chloe, I heard your project fell through. What a pity. But don’t worry, Ethan and I will bring this project back to life!” “It is all Ethan’s fault. I told him my mom was fine, but he insisted on abandoning your precious pitch just to stay with me.” “But then again, you have been clinging to him for so many years. You brought this on yourself.” I stared at the screen, my mind completely numb. After a long silence, I dialed a number I hadn’t called in a very long time. “The offer you made… I accept.” Suddenly, another notification popped up on WhatsApp. “Chloe, you need to get to the office right now. Something happened!” I grabbed my phone and rushed to the company. I pushed open the conference room door without hesitation. Everyone’s eyes immediately locked onto me.

“Chloe, about the Starlight pitch…” I interrupted the board member directly. “It was my mistake that caused us to lose the investment.” Ethan snapped his head up to look at me. “I am deeply sorry for causing such severe consequences. Therefore, starting today, the Starlight Initiative is entirely Ethan’s. I am resigning from the company and stepping down from the board.” My words caught everyone off guard. The shareholders looked at each other, stuttering, “Well… it doesn’t have to go that far…” I just smiled. “I take full responsibility. I failed to get the funding, and I accept the consequences.” Ethan shot up from his chair, calling out instinctively, “Chloe…” I barely glanced at him. “Ethan, I am tired. I am done playing your games.” The news of my departure spread like wildfire through the industry. After that day, Naomi was promoted to a shareholder and took over the Starlight Initiative, basking in glory. My bio on the company website was taken down and replaced by her photo and resume. The comment section was filled with flattery and congratulations, as if I had never existed. Ethan and Naomi attended various industry galas and forums together. Someone posted their photo in our Snapchat group chat with the caption: “High school sweethearts, meeting at the peak of success.” It got dozens of likes. As for me, many in the industry started kicking me while I was down. “Ethan was just too nice, spoiling her for so many years. Now that he has stopped, she has gone into hiding!” “Pfft, everyone knows the Starlight Initiative was Chloe’s masterpiece. Now Ethan put Naomi’s name on it.” Through it all, I never showed my face. Until the day of the Starlight launch event. I took a cab to the venue, found a staff uniform backstage, and changed into it. Once I was sure I wouldn’t be recognized, I slipped into the main hall. At that moment, Naomi was on stage as the lead project manager, giving her speech. She was dressed in a high-end white designer suit, her makeup flawless. “…To achieve today’s success, I want to thank my team, and most importantly, Ethan. It was his unconditional trust and support that gave me the courage to make this dream a reality!” Thunderous applause erupted. Countless spotlights focused on her. The host smiled and took over the mic. “Thank you, Ms. Vance, for that wonderful speech! Next, with our warmest applause, let us welcome the legend of our tech industry, Mr. Ethan Carter, to reveal the official launch name of the product!” Ethan walked onto the stage, his gaze warmly landing on Naomi as he took the mic. “Ms. Vance is the most talented and resilient woman I have ever met. This project is like our child, representing the sweat and blood of both of us.” “She deserves this glory entirely!” The applause grew even louder. Then, Ethan and Naomi stood side by side, preparing to press the launch button together. The double doors of the hall pushed open. I looked at the man walking in, stood up, and shouted: “Wait a minute!”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “449615”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster