Author: Momo Chan

For Thanksgiving, my mother-in-law Eleanor visited from the countryside. To celebrate, I took her to my husband Ethan’s upscale downtown restaurant, “Aria.” I ordered her favorite—Braised Sea Bass—but when she took a bite, her smile faded. The fish was ice-cold, with frost still on it. I called the manager, a sharp-looking woman who glanced at the plate indifferently. “We forgot to microwave it,” she said. “You serve pre-packaged meals?” I asked. Her face flushed. “What’s wrong with pre-packaged? You think we have time to cook from scratch?” I pointed to the sign: “Freshly Caught, Expertly Prepared.” “This is false advertising. Is this how your boss runs the business?” She smirked. “Honey, I’m the owner’s wife. You just want a free meal.” Leaning in, she hissed, “That opened package is non-refundable. With freezer costs and premium ingredients, you owe $500. You’re not leaving until you pay.” $500 for frozen fish? So this was why Ethan, a finance titan, suddenly opened a restaurant—not a passion project, but a scam to fund his mistress. I was about to call him, but she already had her phone out. 1 “Honey, you need to get down to the restaurant, fast! There are a couple of broke bitches here trying to dine and dash!” As if getting Ethan’s green light, her confidence swelled. She pointed a manicured finger at us, her voice ringing through the now-silent dining room. “Are all the men in your family dead? Is that why they sent a cheap tramp and an old crone to scam a free dinner?” she shrieked. “This is an upscale establishment! Do you really think low-life trash like you belong here? My husband is on his way. You are so, so screwed!” Her shrill tirade had captured the attention of every patron in the room. Several waiters drifted over, forming a human wall around us, their expressions just as smug. “You should probably just pay up,” one of them sneered. “Our boss’s wife isn’t someone you can afford to mess with.” “Yeah,” another chimed in. “Some influencer came in here last week, said one wrong word to her, and our boss broke his leg. Got his entire online presence wiped, too. You think you’re tougher than him?” Eleanor had lived a quiet, humble life. Never in her seventy years had she been publicly humiliated like this. Her face was pale as she clutched my sleeve, her voice a frightened whisper. “Evelyn, dear… are we in the wrong place? This can’t be my son’s restaurant, can it?” Even now, she’d rather believe we’d made a mistake than suspect Ethan of cheating. She couldn’t imagine him allowing his mistress to run a con. And why would she? To us, Ethan was the perfect man—honest, devoted to his mother, and utterly in love with his wife. A month ago, when he’d announced his plan to leave the cutthroat world of finance for the culinary arts, I had asked him why. He’d looked at me with that sincere gaze of his and spoken of the rampant food safety issues, of his dream to create a restaurant where people could eat without fear. He’d spoken of wanting to ensure no one had to eat two-year-old broccoli or beef that had been frozen for years. His passion and integrity had moved me. I never imagined that the massive investment I’d helped fund wasn’t for some noble cause. It was to build a den for his mistress. A gilded cage where she could fleece the unsuspecting. I pulled Eleanor behind me, my voice low and cold as I faced the woman. “Fine. I can’t wait to see how your husband plans to ‘teach us a lesson’ when he gets here.” 2 My words only seemed to fuel her rage. Her eyes narrowed. “You bitch,” she spat. “You’re that desperate to meet my husband?” A twisted kind of realization dawned on her face. She pointed at me, her voice rising to a triumphant shriek. “Oh, I get it now! Who complains about pre-packaged food these days? You knew this was a high-end place, so you came here to stir up trouble, didn’t you? All just to get my husband’s attention!” She laughed, a harsh, ugly sound. “Let me tell you something. My husband is a faithful man. He wouldn’t look twice at a washed-up slut like you who’s been passed around by a thousand men!” Her voice, deliberately loud, drew every eye in the room. She started recording me with her phone, her voice a narrator’s booming accusation for her unseen audience. “Everyone, get a look at this shameless woman! She brings an old lady to my restaurant, complains about the food, complains about the price, and when all else fails, she tries to pay with her body! She was hoping the owner would show up so she could make her move! Now I’m putting her pathetic face online for the world to see. Watch out for this one, ladies, or she’ll be after your husbands next!” Murmurs rippled through the crowd of onlookers. “If you can’t afford it, don’t go out. Why harass a business owner?” “Exactly, this is an expensive place. What was she expecting?” “Trying to trade sex for a meal? If you’re that broke, go sell it on a street corner. Don’t try to steal someone else’s husband!” “You… you people…” Eleanor was so incensed by the blatant lies that she could barely breathe, let alone speak. I rubbed her back, trying to soothe her, then pointed a steady hand at the plate on our table. “We ordered the Braised Sea Bass,” I said, my voice cutting through the noise. “What we received was a frozen block of fish, straight from the freezer. You can still see the ice on it. And for this, she wants to charge us five hundred dollars!” I locked eyes with the woman. “We are exercising our rights as consumers. If you’re incapable of handling a simple complaint, then by all means, let’s wait for your husband.” The fact that I dared to talk back sent her into a fury. She signaled her staff, and in an instant, they closed in around me. “Let me make this crystal clear for you,” she hissed, her face inches from mine. “My husband gave me this restaurant. My name is Jessica, and what I say goes. I say you owe me five hundred, you pay five hundred! I could serve you a plate of shit and you’d still have to pay for it, you understand? Now, if you don’t settle your bill and get on your knees and apologize to me right now, you’re not walking out of here in one piece.” 3 Jessica. The name struck me like a bolt of lightning. A few weeks ago, a package had arrived at our house. It was addressed to a Jessica, but with our home address. Curious, I opened it. Inside was a set of lingerie so scandalous it was barely there. When I showed Ethan, he didn’t even hesitate. He tossed it straight into the trash, his expression perfectly calm. “Must be a mistake,” he’d said. “Or some new kind of guerrilla marketing. Just ignore it.” The truth I hadn’t seen then was now blindingly clear. I stared at Jessica, my voice colder than the fish on our table. “I suggest you wait for Ethan. Let him be the one to tell you who, exactly, you’re talking to.” Her face contorted with rage. “You rotten bitch! So you did come here for my husband! You even know his name!” It was only then that the final, terrible piece of the puzzle clicked into place for Eleanor. This was Ethan’s restaurant. The husband this harpy was screaming about was her son. Still, she couldn’t believe it. “Young lady,” she said, her voice trembling but firm, “I am Ethan’s mother. You must be mistaken. My son would never get involved with someone like you. He is not your husband.” CRACK! The sound of the slap echoed through the restaurant. Jessica had struck Eleanor across the face with all her strength. “You old hag! A peasant who can’t even afford a frozen dinner dares to pretend she’s my husband’s mother? Who the hell do you think you are?” Eleanor was frail. The force of the blow sent her stumbling backward, and she collapsed onto the hard floor. “Mom!” I screamed, rushing to her side. I remembered the day I chose Ethan. My father had offered a fortune as a dowry for any man who would marry me and help run the family business. Suitors lined up, but only Ethan had knelt outside our gate for three days and three nights, tears in his eyes, swearing he wanted nothing but the money to save his dying mother. It was his filial piety, his profound love for his mother, that had won me over. After we married, I hired the best doctors in the country. They saved Eleanor’s life. But her heart was still weak. The doctors had warned us—no severe shocks. Now, after Jessica’s violent assault, Eleanor’s face was a deathly white. She clutched her chest, her body curling into a tight ball of agony. “Mom?” Fear seized me. “Mom, is it your heart?” My voice cracked. “Your medicine! Where is your medicine?” Her emergency pills. She never went anywhere without them. My hands flew, frantically patting down her pockets until my fingers closed around the small, brown vial. My hands shook as I twisted the cap, ready to tip the life-saving pills into her mouth. But Jessica was faster. She lunged forward and snatched the bottle from my grasp. “What’s this? The dine-and-dash failed, the ‘I’m his mother’ act didn’t work, so now you’re faking a heart attack? You really think that’s going to get you out of this?” “Give it back!” I scrambled to my feet, trying to get to her, but two of the male waiters—clearly Jessica’s friends or relatives—grabbed my arms and held me fast. My voice was a raw, desperate plea. “She is Ethan’s mother! She’s having a heart attack! She’ll die without that medicine!” 4 I thought explaining the gravity of the situation would make her see reason. I was wrong. She just scoffed, a cruel twist to her lips. “Still lying? My husband is the CEO of Apex Corporation, a man everyone looks up to. This old woman looks like she crawled out of a dumpster. How could she possibly be his mother? You two are pathetic. Do you really think anyone would believe such a ridiculous story?” Ethan’s father had died young. Eleanor had raised him alone, working herself to the bone to give him the best of everything. She lived a simple, frugal life, pouring every penny she earned into her son. Even after Ethan and I bought her beautiful new clothes, she’d save them for special occasions, preferring her old, worn-in things. Now, her humility was being used as proof against her. Seeing Eleanor’s face shift from pale white to a terrifying shade of blue, I screamed, “I’m telling the truth! She is his mother, and I am his wife, Evelyn! If you don’t believe me, video call him right now and ask!” I fought against the waiters’ grip, but they held me firm. Jessica glared at me, her voice dripping with contempt. “You’re getting more delusional by the second. One claims to be his mother, the other claims to be his wife. Don’t you own a mirror? Even if you stripped naked and begged, my husband wouldn’t give you a second glance!” The other waiters chimed in with their own vicious chorus. “That’s right! Our Jessica is the real Mrs. Chazelle!” “You’re just some hick. How dare you try to compete with her?” “I’ve never seen such a shameless woman, trying to be a homewrecker right in front of the wife!” Jessica nodded thoughtfully, then her eyes landed on the table. She picked up the plate with the frozen sea bass and dumped its contents onto the floor. Then, she ground the fish into the tile with the heel of her designer shoe. She looked down at me, a predator enjoying her power. “You want the medicine? Is that it?” she purred. “Fine. Get on your knees. Lick this fish you complained so much about off the floor, and I’ll give it to you.” My eyes shot to Eleanor, curled on the floor. She met my gaze, her voice a pained, raspy whisper. “Don’t…” Even in her agony, she didn’t want me to be humiliated for her sake. Ethan may have betrayed me, but Eleanor had always treated me like the daughter she never had. She was constantly reminding Ethan to be good to me, threatening to disown him if he ever wronged me. She insisted on living back in her hometown, not wanting to be a burden, wanting us to have our own space. Every time she visited, she’d bring bags overflowing with produce from her garden, her way of showing love. Her breathing was becoming shallower, her face turning a darker, more frightening color. Without a second thought, I dropped to my knees. I bent down and, fighting back the bile rising in my throat, began to eat the pulped, dirt-caked fish from the floor. I abandoned my pride, my dignity, my everything, for the simple, desperate hope that she would live. Jessica’s triumphant laughter echoed around me. “Hahaha! Look, everyone! Doesn’t she look just like a dog? A minute ago, she was too good for our food. Now look at her gobbling it up!” The staff joined in her laughter. “Jessica’s a genius! She really knows how to put people in their place.” I ignored them, forcing down bite after gritty bite until the floor was clean. I looked up at her, my voice urgent. “I did what you asked. Now give me the medicine. Please.” Jessica let out a short, sharp laugh. “You’re even dumber than you look. You actually believed me?” “I was lying, you idiot.” And with that, she turned and hurled the medicine vial through the open window, where it disappeared with a soft splash into the decorative lake outside. “NO!” The word was torn from my throat, a raw scream of despair. Tears streamed down my face as I watched the ripples spread. On the floor, Eleanor’s body gave a final, violent shudder. Her eyes lost their focus. She weakly lifted a hand, her trembling fingers brushing away a tear from my cheek. “Evelyn,” she rasped. “I’m so sorry.” Was she apologizing for the humiliation I’d endured? Or for the son who had betrayed us both? With those last words, her hand fell limp to the floor. Her faint breathing stopped completely. “Mom? Mom, wake up! MOM!” I shook her, screamed her name, but there was no response. She was gone. My mother-in-law was dead. I couldn’t process it. We had just come for dinner at Ethan’s restaurant. A simple dinner. And now, because of this venomous monster, Eleanor was dead. A gut-wrenching sob tore through me. The shift leader knelt, checked for a pulse, and then scrambled back in terror. “Jessica! The old woman… I think she’s really dead! What do we do?” Jessica’s only reaction was a slight, annoyed frown. “She’s the one who came here to cause trouble. Her death has nothing to do with me. Besides,” she added with a dismissive wave, “my husband is the CEO of Apex. He’s got connections everywhere. With him protecting me, what is there to be afraid of?” Her words were like a magic spell, instantly calming her panicked staff. Her unrepentant arrogance ignited a firestorm of rage within me. A strength I didn’t know I possessed surged through my body. I shot to my feet and lunged, my hands closing around Jessica’s throat. “You animal! I’ll kill you!” In that moment, I wanted nothing more than to make her pay for Eleanor’s life with her own. “Son of a bitch, she’s attacking the boss!” one of the waiters yelled, and a swift, hard kick sent me sprawling. The others descended on me like a pack of wolves, their fists and feet raining down blows. The pain was excruciating, my body feeling like it was being torn apart. But Jessica wasn’t satisfied. Gasping for air, she rubbed her throat, her eyes burning with hatred. “You bitch. No one has ever laid a finger on me in my entire life. Today, you’re going to learn what happens when you cross me.” She snatched a steak knife and fork from a nearby table. And plunged the fork deep into my thigh. White-hot agony shot through me. I didn’t scream. I just locked my bloody eyes on hers and snarled, “Jessica, you are going to die for this. I swear to God, you will die.” “Still making threats, are you?” she shrieked, enraged. She began stabbing me again and again, treating my body like a pin cushion. As my consciousness began to fade, a voice from the crowd shouted out. “Mr. Chazelle is here!” 5 The words “Mr. Chazelle is here” acted like a kill switch. The chaotic scene froze. The blows stopped. Everyone turned towards the entrance. Jessica tossed the bloody utensils aside. The vicious fury on her face melted away, replaced in an instant by the tear-streaked mask of a victim. Cradling the red marks on her neck, she ran towards the door, crying his name. “Ethan! You’re finally here!” she wailed, collapsing into his arms. “Oh, God… I was so scared!” She buried her face in his chest, trembling like a frightened rabbit. Ethan wrapped his arms around her, his expression grim, but his voice was impossibly gentle. “It’s okay, baby. Don’t be scared. I’m here now.” Hearing that voice, so full of love and concern, felt like another knife twisting in my heart. For years, that was my Ethan. He was the perfect husband, praised by all our friends and family for his gentle, attentive nature. After he took over my family’s corporation and transformed it, he became the revered Mr. Chazelle—a man known in public as an unapproachable iceberg of power and prestige. But at home, he was just Ethan. He cooked for me, took care of me when I was sick, and indulged my every whim. He spoiled me rotten. Whenever I needed him, no matter where he was or what he was doing, he would drop everything and come to me. He would hold me just like that, whispering those exact same words. “It’s okay, baby. Don’t be scared. I’m here now.” I once believed that the warmth beneath the iceberg was mine alone. I believed him when he said he would only ever be that way with me. Hearing those familiar words now, directed at another woman, was a bitter, cruel joke. So this is what it felt like. Love, it turned out, was just another performance. After calming Jessica, Ethan’s voice turned hard as steel. “What happened?” Jessica squeezed out a few more tears. “Ethan, it was those two broke women I told you about on the phone! They ordered the sea bass, claimed it was pre-packaged, and then refused to pay! They were making a huge scene, driving away all our customers!” She pointed a trembling finger towards us. “Then the old one, after screaming at me, faked a heart attack to get out of paying. But I think… I think she actually had one and died! Then the younger one went crazy and tried to kill me! Look what she did to my neck! If the staff hadn’t stepped in, you might not have a girlfriend to come home to!” She punctuated her story with a sob, a masterful performance of twisting the truth until it was unrecognizable. Her staff immediately backed her up. “It’s true, Mr. Chazelle! They came here looking for a fight, just to get a free meal!” “You have to stand up for Jessica, sir! If you don’t, every piece of trash in the city will think they can walk all over her!” The onlookers, realizing the restaurant owner was the famous Ethan Chazelle of Apex Corporation, quickly took Jessica’s side, their whispers condemning me and Eleanor. “Serves them right,” one said. “Died from her own stupid scam.” Ethan’s face was a thundercloud. “Where are they? Show me.” Jessica led him through the crowd, pointing dramatically. “There, Ethan! Those are the two bitches!”

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My aunt invited the entire family to an extravagant dinner, a $750 affair. Everyone but me. I didn’t argue. I didn’t make a scene. I just quietly removed her as an authorized user on my credit card, the one linked to her phone. When the waiter announced the total, the smile on my aunt’s face froze. She assumed, as always, that someone else would pick up the tab. But this time, how would she escape the humiliation? 01 The sudden glow of my phone screen shattered the room’s heavy silence. Messages were flooding the family group chat, one after another, like koi surfacing for food. My aunt, Lily, a woman who lived and breathed for the curated perfection of her social media feed, was once again playing her favorite role: the generous benefactor. “Hey family! I’ve booked a private room at The Summit Club this weekend to treat everyone to dinner! You all have to come!” The simple message was punctuated with a sparkling peace-sign emoji. The chat exploded. “Wow, Lily, you’re amazing! The Summit Club! I heard it’s hundreds of dollars per person!” “You’re so successful, unlike the rest of us stuck with our boring salaries.” “Thank you, Aunt Lily! I’ll definitely be there!” “My cousin is the best. Unlike some people who have all that education but no common sense.” The compliments and praises rolled in like a tidal wave, lifting Aunt Lily onto a pedestal. My face was a mask of indifference as I scrolled, my fingertips cold. I read through the messages, a sea of familiar yet distant profile pictures. These were my relatives, my blood, yet at this moment, they were like fawning courtiers flattering their queen with hollow words. I scanned the list of tagged names again and again. My uncle, my aunt, my cousins… she’d even tagged a distant great-uncle who lived hundreds of miles away. But not me, Vivian. She couldn’t even spare a perfunctory, “Vivian, are you coming?” A dry, humorless smile stretched my lips. It was uglier than a grimace. This wasn’t the first time. In this collective we called “family,” I was a permanent outsider, a ghost who could be “accidentally” overlooked at any moment. I remembered my cousin Amanda’s eighteenth birthday last year. Aunt Lily had thrown a lavish banquet at a five-star hotel. After the party, she posted a perfectly curated photo grid to the family chat. The caption read: “My baby girl is all grown up! Our family, happy forever!” In the photos, Aunt Lily was arm-in-arm with my uncle, Amanda was beaming, and relatives orbited them like planets around the sun. And me? I had been sitting right beside them, wearing an old jacket they’d shoved at me because my own clothes “weren’t fancy enough.” In the photos, I had been meticulously cropped out. All that remained was the blurry edge of a sleeve, an ignored shadow in the corner of the frame. That familiar feeling of suffocation returned, a block of ice pressing down on my chest, its chill spreading through my veins. Just then, my mother called. The phone vibrated in my palm like a dying cicada. “Hi, Vivian, honey.” Her voice was laced with her usual cautious appeasement, a tone shaped by years of indulging her younger sister. “So… you saw the invitation from your aunt, right?” She hemmed and hawed, her words a mix of probing and a faint, almost imperceptible guilt. “She… she was probably just busy and forgot. You know how she is, so scatterbrained. It wasn’t intentional, she probably just… accidentally missed you.” Accidentally. Such a convenient word. A perfect veil for deliberate exclusion, for calculated malice. “I saw it,” I said calmly into the phone. I added, “I have a project that weekend. I’ll be out of town, so I can’t make it.” On the other end of the line, my mother let out a tiny, weightless sigh of relief. That sigh, transmitted through the airwaves, became the sharpest needle, plunging straight into my heart. See? Even my own mother thought my absence was a good thing. It would save her the awkwardness of facing her sister. It would make their “happy family” feast that much more complete. My heart turned to stone. After hanging up, I opened the boisterous group chat again. Aunt Lily had posted photos of The Summit Club’s exquisite menu, showing off dishes with names I couldn’t even pronounce. In the corner of one photo, a familiar banking app’s payment screen flashed for a second. I knew that gold card. It was the supplementary card I had issued for her, linked to my main account, the one she used for nearly all of her “high-end” purchases. For years, for the sake of that ridiculous notion of “family harmony” my mother always preached, I had silently endured it. I was a donkey with blinders on, working myself to the bone only to funnel my hard-earned money to this parasite I called “family.” The mortgage on my aunt’s house, her designer handbags that cost thousands, Amanda’s expensive piano lessons—even a new internet router for their home was charged to my supplementary card. Meanwhile, I hesitated for days before buying myself a single item of clothing that cost more than fifty dollars. I stared at the image of that gold card on my screen, watching my aunt bask in the family’s adoration. A cold, audacious idea, like a seed in long-barren soil, began to sprout in my heart. Why? Why should my blood and sweat water the garden of her vanity? Why should I be trampled underfoot, only to pave the golden road for the one doing the trampling? I picked up my phone, my fingertips turning white from the pressure. I opened my banking app, entered my password, and navigated to the card management page. The words “Remove Authorized User” glowed with a strange, alluring light. My finger hovered over the option for a few seconds. I saw my mother’s pleading face, the judgmental sneers of my relatives, and my aunt’s perpetually triumphant smile. And then, without another moment’s hesitation, I pressed down. Hard. [Confirm Removal?] [Confirm.] A “Success” notification popped onto the screen. The world, for a moment, went perfectly silent. 02 The moment I unlinked the card, I felt an unprecedented lightness. It was as if I’d finally unburdened myself of a heavy yoke I’d been carrying for years. Even breathing felt easier. But it was followed by a secret, thrilling tension. I knew I had just lit a very long fuse, and at the other end was an explosion waiting to happen. I told no one, not even my parents. I knew them too well. They would have tried to placate me with the usual refrains: “Just let it go, we’re family,” “She’s your aunt,” “Don’t make things ugly.” In their eyes, my feelings and my dignity were never as important as my aunt’s public image and our so-called “family harmony.” I was done listening to their excuses. For the next few days, I was a silent spectator, watching Aunt Lily perform her one-woman show. She became even more ostentatious in the group chat. One day it was a screenshot from a high-end spa: “Just got a new membership, the experience is divine. This card is just a dream!” The next, it was a short video of her and Amanda shopping at a luxury boutique, the camera lingering on the price tags: “Just a few little gifts for my daughter. Love the feeling of swiping!” Every post felt like a performance directed at me. The phrases “this card is a dream” and “love the feeling of swiping” were a silent mockery of the fool who was paying for it all. I watched with cold detachment. After one of her posts, I even opened my banking app. The transaction history for that supplementary card had stopped on the day I unlinked it. All of her current splurges were coming out of her own pocket. I wondered if it still felt quite as “dreamy.” I watched her count down to the weekend dinner, even posting a video of The Summit Club’s opulent private room. Meanwhile, I was making meticulous preparations for the coming “accident.” Citing a work project, I booked a train ticket and a hotel in the neighboring city, ensuring I had a perfect alibi for the night of the dinner. No matter what happened, they wouldn’t be able to confront me immediately. I even called The Summit Club in advance. Feigning a naive curiosity, I asked the receptionist about their payment process. “Hello, do you accept mobile payments? Like through a phone app?” “Yes, ma’am, we support all major mobile payment methods.” “And… what if the bill is quite large, say, several hundred dollars? Would there be any issues with that?” “Not at all, as long as your account has sufficient funds. If a payment fails, our staff will be happy to assist you.” After getting the confirmation I needed, I politely hung up. Perfect. Everything was going according to plan. I had already replayed the scene in my mind a thousand times: Aunt Lily at the checkout, her perfectly painted smile twisting from confidence to confusion, and finally, to panic. The day of the dinner finally arrived. That afternoon, I boarded the train, suitcase in tow. The scenery blurred past the window, just like my youth and dignity had been blurred and crushed over the years. My phone rang. It was my father. “Vivian, are you really not coming? Your aunt, she…” His voice was laced with that familiar, helpless probing. He wanted to persuade me but didn’t know how. I pretended the signal was breaking up. “Dad, I’m boarding! Gotta go! It’s busy here!” Then, I decisively ended the call. I leaned back in my seat, watching the world fly by, my heart a calm, cold lake. They still cared more about my aunt’s pride than my feelings. Fine. Let them see with their own eyes what their proud, generous “good sister” and “dear aunt” looked like when she was cut off from her human ATM. I pictured the scene at The Summit Club. Aunt Lily, holding court at the head of the table, basking in the glow of flattery. She was surely bragging about her new purse, her latest hairstyle, and how her “successful” niece was so wonderfully obedient. She had no idea that a carefully planned “accident” was about to befall her. 03 At exactly seven o’clock in the evening, my phone lit up. It was a photo from my mother. A group picture, taken in the gilded private room of The Summit Club. Aunt Lily was firmly in the center, dressed in a new designer suit, her makeup flawless, her smile so bright it was almost blinding. Amanda snuggled up beside her, holding the latest model smartphone. My parents, uncle, and other relatives surrounded them, all beaming. The atmosphere in the photo was warm and harmonious. Everyone was there. Except me. The one they had deliberately forgotten. I didn’t reply. I just zoomed in on the photo, studying my aunt’s smug face, and silently counted down the final moments of her reign. At 8:30 PM, I figured they were finishing up. Just then, a message from Amanda popped up. “Hey, Viv! You busy? You won’t believe how generous Mom was tonight, she ordered a bunch of stuff she never usually gets! The Australian lobster was to die for!” Her excitement and vanity practically vibrated through the screen. A small, almost imperceptible smile touched my lips. “Oh really?” I typed back. After a pause, I added, “That’s nice.” About fifteen minutes later, my phone vibrated again. This time, it was the family group chat. Aunt Lily had sent a voice message. I played it, and her voice, strained and a little frantic, filled the air. “What is going on? Why won’t my phone payment go through? I’ve tried several times!” In the background, I could hear muffled voices and what sounded like a waiter speaking softly. My uncle—my father’s brother—replied next, his voice laced with confusion. “Lily, did you type the wrong password? Or maybe the connection is bad?” I could practically taste the atmosphere in that room. Aunt Lily’s smile must have been cracking. The relatives who had been fawning over her moments before were surely exchanging nervous glances. Calmly, I opened my aunt’s social media profile. As expected, she had just posted a minute ago. “Amazing dinner tonight, so grateful for my family. Love you all!” The picture was the same group photo, her smile still as bright and plastic as a flower. I refreshed the page. A minute later, the post had been deleted. Then my phone began to vibrate violently. It was my father, calling me directly. I answered. “Vivian! Your aunt’s mobile payment isn’t working! The… the card linked to her phone, isn’t that your supplementary card? Can you check if something’s wrong with it? Can she use it?” His voice was frantic, as if the world were ending. I could practically hear his own pride shattering along with my aunt’s. I took a deep breath and spoke, my tone so calm it was almost cruel. “Dad,” I said, enunciating every word. “I unlinked that card last week.” The other end of the line went dead silent. All I could hear was my father’s heavy, ragged breathing, like a broken bellows. In the background, I could faintly hear my aunt’s voice, rising to a shriek that pierced through the receiver. “What?! Unlinked?! What does she mean?! She did it on purpose! She did this to me on purpose!” I silently ended the call. Yes. I did it on purpose. And this was only the beginning.

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The toasts were underway at the reception when my husband, Reg, and I made our way to the head table, champagne flutes in hand. His parents smiled, sharing heartfelt words that warmed me to my core. A soft, happy murmur rippled through the guests. But when it was my mother’s turn, she set her glass down. Her eyes swept across our friends and family, and she sighed dramatically. “It’s a shame, really. If only this were Aria’s wedding today.” A sudden, sharp silence fell over the table. My father nudged her, a flicker of panic in his eyes. She seemed to snap back to reality, her gaze finally landing on me. “Oh, Claire is wonderful too, of course. Just a bit… dull. Always has been.” In that moment, every eye in the room was on me. All I could do was stand there, champagne flute held aloft, and force a smile that felt more painful than tears. 1 “That dress just doesn’t work.” Standing before the full-length mirror, I felt my mother’s critical gaze rake over me. The makeup artist, who was busy arranging the train of my gown, froze for a beat. She recovered quickly, trying to smooth things over. “It might just be her makeup, ma’am. We did it this morning to match her ceremony gown. Once I touch it up for the reception, the whole look will come together beautifully.” “No, that’s not it,” my mother said, shaking her head with an air of absolute authority. “I mean the dress looks bad on her.” She circled me like a predator, her hands gesturing wildly. “She’s too tall for a mermaid cut. It doesn’t flatter her at all.” Her voice grew brighter. “Now Aria, she has the perfect figure for it. A dress like this would look stunning on her.” The makeup artist had no idea who ‘Aria’ was. She shot me a confused, sympathetic glance, clearly baffled as to why a mother would tear down her own daughter on her wedding day. My fingers tightened on the delicate fabric of my skirt. Honestly, I didn’t understand it either. Why? Why on the most important day of my life, did she still have to tear me down just to build my sister up? I opened my mouth to protest, to beg her to stop, but then I remembered the room full of guests just outside, and my mother’s temper—a powder keg waiting for a spark. I swallowed the words and the bitterness that came with them. On a day this beautiful, the last thing I wanted was for Reg’s family and our friends, who had traveled so far, to witness a screaming match between my mother and me. Thankfully, after a few more minutes of pointed glaring, she grew bored and swept out of the dressing room. I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. The makeup artist did the same. “Claire,” she said softly, her voice full of warmth. “You look absolutely breathtaking in this dress. Our photographer was just telling me you’re a natural. He said every shot is perfect, you don’t even need to pose.” “Thank you,” I murmured, managing a small, real smile. I knew she was just trying to make me feel better, and I was grateful for it. The small incident was soon forgotten as the pivotal moment of the ceremony arrived. On the stage, under the warm lights, Reg and I faced each other to exchange our rings. A cheer went up from our guests as the cool metal slid onto my finger, a perfect, gleaming circle meant to seal our happiness. Just then, my mother stepped forward, her voice cutting through the joyful noise. “You know, you’re a rather ugly crier.” She didn’t stop there. “Not like your sister. Aria was always the pretty one, and today is no exception.” 2 A single tear escaped and traced a hot path down my cheek. I stood frozen, staring at my mother in disbelief. Reg was stunned, but he recovered in an instant. He grabbed my hand, raised it high, and shouted to the crowd, his voice ringing with love, “I love you, my wife!” The opening chords of our song swelled through the speakers, bathing the entire venue in a wave of romance that pushed back against the ugliness. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw my mother shoot me a glare before sticking her tongue out, a childish, mocking gesture. I took a deep, shaky breath, fighting to shove the hurt down. I pulled my lips into the biggest, brightest smile I could manage. Nothing was going to ruin this day. I repeated it to myself like a mantra. Whatever it is, we’ll deal with it after the wedding. But I underestimated her. My mother wasn’t going to let me have even one perfect day. During the part of the reception for the parents’ speeches, Reg’s parents spoke with such sincerity that the room erupted in heartfelt applause. When it was my father’s turn, he’d barely managed two sentences before my mother snatched the microphone from his hand. She beamed at the audience. “Thank you all so much for coming today to celebrate my daughter’s wedding.” I felt a sliver of relief. She was being… normal. But after a few brief pleasantries, her tone shifted. She pivoted, making my younger sister the star of my wedding. “For those of you who don’t know, Aria is my youngest daughter. Claire’s little sister.” She puffed out her chest, her face glowing with pride. “And she just opened a wonderful art gallery, right near this very hotel! It’s filled with the most incredible pieces, something for every taste. You should all stop by and have a look.” Reg and I exchanged a nervous glance. I could see the same alarm in his eyes that I felt in my own chest. I quickly moved toward the stage, intending to take back the microphone. But as I got close, my mother shot out her hand and shoved me, hard. I stumbled back, nearly falling. “What do you think you’re doing, grabbing the mic like that? Have you no manners? I’m not finished!” My father waved me away, gesturing for me to just let her speak. Across the room, I could see Reg’s parents’ smiles had tightened, their faces hardening. Trapped, and desperate to maintain some semblance of order, I retreated, forced to listen. “Aria has always been such a lively, considerate child,” my mother gushed on. “She opened her gallery so close to home specifically to take care of her father and me. That girl’s heart is pure gold.” She rambled on, sharing one cutesy story after another from Aria’s childhood. The guests sat in polite, stony silence, but she didn’t seem to notice, giggling to herself as she continued her one-woman show. Finally, the wedding planner, her brow furrowed in frustration, approached the stage. “Ma’am,” she whispered, “this is Claire’s wedding. Perhaps you could say a few words about Claire?” My mother looked put out, but she reluctantly changed the subject. “Her? Oh, she was always so boring. Such a gloomy, withdrawn child. Honestly, if she hadn’t gotten into a good college, I doubt anyone would have ever paid her any mind.” The words landed, and the entire room fell dead silent. 3 Every single guest turned to look at me. In that instant, the dam of my composure broke. A tidal wave of humiliation and fury surged through me, so powerful I thought I might actually explode. Reg’s hand found mine, his fingers gently tapping against my palm. “I’ll talk to her,” he whispered. “Don’t worry.” I nodded, blinking back a fresh flood of tears. Reg signaled to the planner, who retrieved the microphone. He leaned in and spoke quietly into my mother’s ear. She pouted, seeming to finally grasp that her behavior was wildly inappropriate, and fell silent. The rest of the wedding passed in a blur, the planner expertly guiding us through the remaining schedule. After making the rounds and toasting with our guests, I was physically and emotionally drained. I hadn’t eaten a bite. I told Reg I needed to slip away to the dressing room for a moment. He offered to come with me, but many of his friends had flown in from across the country to celebrate with us. I didn’t want to drag him away from them. I insisted he stay. As I reached the dressing room door, I heard familiar voices from inside. I paused, my hand hovering over the doorknob. “Mom, this is Claire’s bridal jewelry set. I really shouldn’t…” “Oh, don’t be silly. What’s hers is yours. This bracelet was made for you. And look at this necklace! It’s perfect for you, with your elegant swan neck.” A pause. “Your sister’s neck is so thick and short. It would just look clumsy on her.” My whole body started to shake. I threw the door open. The scene that greeted me was my mother, a wide smile on her face, fastening my diamond necklace around my sister’s neck. My brand new wedding jewelry. “Claire!” Aria jumped, startled. Her smile vanished, replaced by a flush of guilt. “I—I just thought your necklace was pretty, so I was looking at it. Don’t get the wrong idea!” “What wrong idea could there be?” my mother snapped, physically stopping Aria from unclasping the necklace. Her voice dripped with disdain. “Getting married is one thing, but this whole five-piece jewelry set is just wasteful. A wedding band is plenty.” Her eyes narrowed. “This extra necklace and bracelet suit your sister perfectly. I think she should have them. They look much better on her anyway.” Without waiting for a response, she grabbed the velvet jewelry box and started shoving the remaining pieces into Aria’s handbag. The rage that had been simmering inside me finally boiled over. Words tumbled out of my mouth, fast and sharp. “Mom! In your world, is there a single good thing that doesn’t belong exclusively to Aria?” “You don’t care who anything belongs to, do you? My wedding dress, my bridal jewelry, even a stupid tube of lipstick I own—you’d rip it all away from me just to hand it to her, wouldn’t you?!” My outburst stunned them both into silence. But my mother recovered quickly. Her brows drew together, her eyes locking onto mine with pure venom. “Aria is your sister! Shouldn’t she be able to use your things?” she shrieked, advancing on me. Her voice echoed in the small room, a hysterical, wounded cry. “Do you have to be so selfish?” 4 Selfish? My nails dug so deep into my palms I was sure I’d drawn blood. If I was angry before, now I was drowning in a sea of utter despair. For as long as I can remember, the word ‘selfish’ has been my shadow. When we were kids, if Aria cried because she lost a toy to another child, and I couldn’t console her, my mother called me selfish for not protecting her. When I tried to teach her to write, and she threw a tantrum because she wanted to play outside, I was selfish for not controlling her. In middle school, I was always one of the top students. My good grades made Aria moody and sullen. It was her jealousy, plain and simple, but my mother still called me selfish for not considering my sister’s feelings, for stressing her out. Later, when Reg and I started dating, we were all having dinner. I cooked, but I forgot to make Aria’s favorite garlic shrimp. She pouted and refused to eat a single bite, no matter how my father coaxed her. And again, my mother accused me of being selfish, this time for neglecting my sister’s health. Year after year, I’ve been buried under the weight of these baseless accusations. It’s not that I never fought back. But every attempt to defend myself was dismissed as an excuse, a lie. No matter who was at fault, my mother always, always took Aria’s side. She saw the world only through Aria’s eyes. It was as if Aria was her real daughter, and I was just some stray she’d been forced to take in. Her voice was shrill now, her face contorted with rage as she pointed a trembling finger at me. “You’ve been this way since you were a child! Cold, secretive, hoarding every little thing for yourself. You never share. I should have known you’d never change. You’re just a bitter, selfish…”

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My parents’ love story was legendary in New York City. My father had three long scars on his back from saving my mother from her father’s rage. The Blackwood Spire, the city’s tallest skyscraper, was his wedding gift to her. The night I was born, fireworks lit up the sky—another gift for my mother. I was called the proof of their love. But when I turned three, a beautiful woman moved next door. She took my hand and placed it on her round belly. “I hear you’ve been sickly,” she said slyly. “Your father got tired of it. He’s giving you a brother—with me.” She added, “Your mother is useless. She can’t keep her man. You’ll have a new mom soon.” I didn’t understand everything, but I told my mother when she came home. That night, the villa next door was engulfed in fire. The woman screamed. My mother held me from behind and whispered softly in my ear: “Alan, my love… do you like Mommy’s gift?” 1 “Mommy, it’s Daddy! Daddy’s home!” I was pressed against the window, bouncing with excitement as I pointed at the man getting out of the car below. I had counted the days. It had been six months since he’d last come home. But he didn’t walk toward our door. The second he was out of the car, he sprinted straight into the blazing fire next door. Terrified, I called his phone over and over, wanting him to come back, but he never answered. After what felt like an eternity, he finally emerged from the flames, cradling the woman from that afternoon in his arms. I let out a long sigh of relief. But my mother’s face had turned to stone. At four in the morning, my father finally came home. I ran to greet him, expecting him to swing me up high like he always used to. Instead, he shoved me toward his bodyguards, ordering them to hold me. He strode past me, straight to my mother. In one swift movement, he seized her by the throat, lifting her off her feet. His voice was a blade of ice, colder than I had ever heard it. “You set that fire at Natalie’s, didn’t you?! The baby is gone! That was my child, Elena! You’re a mother yourself! How could you be so damn cruel?” “Do you know what the doctors said? If I’d been a minute later, Natalie might have… She was helpless!” My mother’s face was turning purple, but a defiant smile played on her lips. “You know I can’t stand being provoked, Robert. Especially by your little bitch. A pregnant one, at that.” “This was just an appetizer,” she rasped. “If you can’t keep your dog on a leash, I have no problem turning up the heat and cooking her alive.” His eyes were bloodshot with fury. He tightened his grip. “Do you really think I wouldn’t turn you over to the cops?” “You’d need proof for that, darling.” Before setting the fire, my mother had already had every security camera in the neighborhood wiped clean. Enraged and humiliated, my father slammed her onto the glass coffee table. The sound of shattering glass echoed through the room, but what really shattered was my family. He pulled out the thing everyone called a gun and pressed it to her temple. His voice was a low growl. “Elena, this is just how men are. We stray. Compared to guys who have a new girl every week, I’ve been good. And I promised you, the title of Mrs. Blackwood will always be yours.” “Natalie is no threat to you. Why do you have to push her into a corner?” I had seen what guns did on TV. I bit down hard on the hand of the bodyguard holding me, and when he yelped, I scrambled free and threw myself in front of my mother. “You’re wrong, Daddy! I’ll never cheat! I’ll never betray Mommy!” My father’s furious expression faltered when he saw me. He quickly pulled the gun away. My mother snatched me into her arms, and I could feel her whole body shaking violently. She must have been so scared. I hugged her tight, patting her back the way she always did for me. “It’s okay, Mommy. Don’t be scared. Alan’s here.” But her trembling only worsened. She looked up at my father, her eyes filled with a profound disappointment, and held out a set of divorce papers. “Robert Blackwood, let’s get a divorce. I get custody of Alan.” Without a second’s hesitation, he tore the papers to shreds and tossed them into the trash. “I told you when we got married. There’s no divorce for us. Only ’til death do us part.” “This time,” he said, his voice strained, “I admit it was my fault. I shouldn’t have moved Natalie in next door without telling you. I know it provoked you. So, you don’t have to apologize to her. I’ll find a way to make it up to her for you.” With that, he turned his back on us and walked out the door. Watching his resolute figure disappear, I felt a deep, cold certainty that something in our family had just broken forever. 2 I thought that after leaving like that, my father would be gone for a long time again. But the next day, when my mother picked me up from school, he was already sitting in our living room. The woman from yesterday, Natalie, stood beside him, directing movers as they carried our furniture out, piece by piece, replacing it with garish pink items my mother despised. Seeing us, my father stubbed out his cigarette and walked over, his voice heavy with exhaustion. “Elena, Natalie needs a place to recover from the… incident. She doesn’t like our furniture, so we’re replacing it. It’s old anyway. Time for a change.” He avoided her eyes. “I know you don’t like her, so I’ve booked a month-long trip for you and Alan. Go abroad, have a vacation.” But this was our home. Why was he kicking us out for a stranger? Natalie spotted us and sauntered over. She pinched my cheek, hard. “Well, well, if it isn’t the sickly little tattletale. I was going to wait until your little brother was born and make you his servant, but you just had to run your mouth to your mommy, didn’t you?” “I don’t like boys with big mouths,” she hissed. “When your daddy and I have our next baby, you won’t get a single penny of the Blackwood fortune.” The cloying scent of her perfume was so strong it made it hard to breathe. My mother saw my distress and pulled me into her arms. “Alan’s having an asthma attack! Get his medicine, now!” But as a bodyguard rushed down with my inhaler, Natalie blocked his path and dumped the entire contents of the medical kit into the trash. “I’m a doctor,” she declared smugly. “Alan doesn’t have asthma. It’s just a minor respiratory issue. He’ll be fine if he just toughs it out. No need for drugs.” My throat felt like it was being squeezed shut. It was getting harder and harder to draw a breath. Natalie looked down at me with an all-knowing smirk. “Alan, do you know why you’re so fragile, always getting sick? It’s because while your mother was pregnant with you, she was sleeping around with all sorts of men. She caught some filthy disease and passed it right on to you in her belly.” “Your mother is a whore,” she sneered. “And that makes you just as dirty. Not like me. I’m clean. I have self-respect.” But my mother only got sick because she was saving my father. It had nothing to do with other men. Had he forgotten? I looked over at him, but he just sat on the sofa, scrolling through his phone, acting as if he hadn’t heard a word. My mother finally snapped. She kicked Natalie aside with a furious shove, dug my inhaler out of the trash, and pressed it to my lips. Sweet, life-giving air flooded my lungs. Natalie’s head had hit the corner of the new coffee table, and blood was already trickling down her temple. My father, who had been ignoring everything just a second ago, was on his feet in a flash, rushing to her side. “Are you insane, Elena?” he roared at my mother. “Can’t you handle hearing a few home truths? If it weren’t for your issues, why would Alan be sick all the time? Why can’t he live like a normal kid?” “Elena, my patience with you is wearing thin. Apologize to Natalie. Now.” My mother just let out a cold, bitter laugh. She turned to me. “Alan, do you think Mommy did something wrong?” I gave her a big thumbs-up. “I’m always on your side, Mommy.” She smiled, but her eyes were glistening with unshed tears. My father’s face twisted in rage. “Look what you’ve taught him! You’re not fit to be a mother. From now on, Natalie will be in charge of raising Alan.” He grabbed me and tried to pull me over to Natalie’s side. But the suffocating cloud of her perfume was like a rope tightening around my neck. I struggled, but my father’s grip only grew stronger, more forceful. The asthma came back, worse than before. My neck felt like it was being devoured by a thousand fire ants. My legs gave out, and I collapsed onto the floor. Through the haze of pain, I heard my father’s annoyed voice. “Not this again. Alan, your Aunt Natalie already told you you’re fine. Stop faking it.” But I wasn’t faking it. I really, truly couldn’t breathe. Just before I blacked out, I saw my mother burst through them all, scoop me into her arms, and run for the door. I glanced back at the living room. My father was crouched over Natalie, his face a mask of gentle concern as he checked her injury. In that moment, a fierce, burning hatred for my father ignited within me. He had promised to love me and Mommy forever. But his forever was so short. 3 I was in the hospital for days, and my father never once came to see me. But one afternoon, when Mom was pushing my wheelchair through the halls for some fresh air, I saw him. He was in the room next to mine, tenderly caring for Natalie. I knew my mother saw him too. The corners of her eyes were wet. I reached up to wipe a tear away and buried my face in her lap. “Mommy, let’s divorce Daddy,” I whispered. “We don’t want him anymore.” She froze for a second, then gently squeezed my cheek. “Do you even know what a divorce is?” I shook my head, then nodded. “It means we don’t have to live with Daddy ever again. And then you won’t have to cry because of him anymore.” A sad smile touched her lips, and she pressed a kiss to my forehead. “Alright, Alan. Mommy will give your father one last chance. If he doesn’t change, we’ll get a divorce.” Three days later, I was discharged. It was also my birthday. My mother threw a huge party for me. Just as we were about to cut the cake, Natalie showed up. She wasn’t alone. She’d brought an entire funeral procession with her, all dressed in black. She burst into the room, wailing like a banshee. “Oh, my poor son! My poor baby! Burned alive at only four months in the womb! And the monster who did it gets to throw a birthday party for her own son without facing any punishment! Oh, the injustice of it all!” “My baby, it’s Mommy’s fault! I’m not powerful and ruthless like Mrs. Blackwood. I can’t just bend the law to get my revenge! Oh, my poor, poor child…” Her histrionics drowned out the cheerful party music. The guests, who had just been smiling and giving me presents, now stared at me and my mother with strange, unsettling looks. My mother’s face darkened. She signaled for the bodyguards to throw Natalie out. But Natalie just stroked her own belly and sneered, “Not so fast, Elena. I’m pregnant again. Robert let you off the hook for killing my last baby, but he’s already warned me about you this time. If you so much as lay a finger on me, he’ll destroy you.” “He doesn’t love you anymore, Elena,” she taunted. “Do you really think you can still throw your little tantrums and get away with it? Even if you don’t care about yourself, you should at least think about your precious son.” Her eyes flickered towards me. My mother hesitated, her hand tightening on mine. It was the little squeeze she always gave me for encouragement, so I squeezed back, hard. The storm clouds on my mother’s face suddenly cleared. She smiled, a calm, serene expression settling over her. “In that case,” she said to Natalie, “be my guest.” Seeing my mother back down, Natalie’s smirk widened. She grew bolder, marching through the room like a conquering queen. She swept all my birthday presents off the table and sent them crashing to the floor. Even my huge birthday cake was smashed in two. But just then, the grand chandelier in the center of the hall began to emit a low, ominous groaning sound. My mother’s eyes darted upwards. Natalie, however, was lost in her triumphant destruction, completely oblivious. The next second, the chandelier plummeted from the ceiling, crashing down with perfect, deadly accuracy right on top of her. A splash of crimson stained the pristine floor. My mother covered my eyes with her hand, but I could hear the smile in her voice as she spoke, loud enough for everyone to hear. “Oh, Natalie, I am so sorry. I forgot to tell you. That chandelier is rusted through. We just haven’t had time to get it repaired. It could have fallen at any moment.” In the end, Natalie was carried out on a stretcher. And I got a brand-new strawberry cake and a fresh pile of birthday presents. 4 The news of Natalie’s “accident” was all over the papers the next day. But this time, my father didn’t storm home in a rage. In fact, he started coming home more often. He never mentioned Natalie’s name again. I didn’t understand what had changed, until one night I overheard my mother talking with our head of staff in the study. “Natalie’s baby is gone, and her face is permanently disfigured. Mr. Blackwood has likely decided she’s no longer of any value to him. It seems he’s planning to return to the family, to you and the young master.” My mother stared out the window at the inky black sky. Her voice was flat. “We’ll see.” In the weeks that followed, my father came home earlier and earlier. He brought me mountains of toys and my favorite snacks. My mother’s jewelry boxes overflowed with new pieces, and her closets were bursting with designer clothes. Even my mother seemed to be thawing. I saw her smile more. One day, my father announced he was taking us to visit my grandparents. They lived far away, a long drive from the city. As we were driving over a massive bridge, my father suddenly pulled the car over. I thought he wanted to stop and enjoy the view. The next second, the car doors were yanked open. My mother and I were dragged out onto the pavement. My father’s gentle facade had vanished. His eyes were filled with a cold, murderous intent. “I told you Natalie was no threat to you, Elena,” he snarled. “But you went after her again and again. Because of you, she can never have children. Because of you, her face is ruined, she can’t even bear to be seen in public. Do you have any idea how much that has destroyed her?” “All these weeks, coming home, being nice to you and the boy… it was all an act. Just to get you to lower your guard, to get you in a car with me today without your army of bodyguards.” At his signal, his men seized me and threw me over the railing into the churning river below. As I fell, my mother lunged for me, wrapping me in a desperate embrace. Her tears, hot against my cold skin, fell on my face. I heard my father’s voice drift down from above, chillingly calm. “Don’t blame me for this, Alan. Your mother just wouldn’t listen. She was turning you against me. I just have to teach you both a little lesson.” The moment the icy water swallowed us, I think I finally understood the look in my mother’s eyes when she would sit alone in her room, staring at old photos of them together. I remembered her quiet whisper: “Times change, and people change with them.” My father’s heart was as cold and merciless as the river now consuming us. When I woke up, I was in a hospital bed. My mother, wrapped in bandages, sat beside me. Her eyes were red and swollen from crying. She hugged me so tightly it hurt, whispering apologies over and over. She said it was her fault, that she had let me suffer. But Mommy, you were the one who was suffering the most. And you never once complained. That night, my mother told me to go to sleep early. She said she had some business to take care of. An uneasy feeling settled in my stomach, so I snuck out and followed her. I watched her go to the new villa my father had bought for Natalie. She and her team of bodyguards smashed everything inside to pieces before tying Natalie to a chair. It wasn’t long before my father arrived, looking frantic. The moment he saw my mother, his face became a mask of pure fury. “Elena, are you trying to drive me to my grave?” My mother just laughed, a cold, sharp sound, as she toyed with a small, gleaming dagger. “I’m simply returning the favor. Why is it that when I do it, it’s considered a death threat?” She pressed the tip of the dagger to Natalie’s throat. A thin line of red appeared. My father fell to his knees without a moment’s hesitation. “Elena, I’m begging you. Don’t hurt Natalie. She’s innocent in all this. Let her go, and I’ll do anything you ask.” “You’re doing all this for a divorce, right? Fine! I agree! We’ll get a divorce.” He immediately had someone bring him divorce papers, signed his name, and held them out to her. My mother didn’t even glance at them. She tore them to pieces. “You said it yourself, Robert. No divorce. Only death. And tonight, I’m going to kill you both!”

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1 I once told Joey that if he ever fell in love with someone else, I would simply disappear. He had always been so faithful, so I believed our happiness was a fortress, unshakable. Until, at eight months pregnant, I walked in on him with another woman. “Stella is carrying our IVF baby,” he was cooing, his voice a gentle caress as he comforted the radiant woman beside him. “You don’t have to do a thing, my love, and we’ll have a child that’s ours.” He turned his attention back to her, doting on her. “Childbirth is so painful, and you’re so terrified of pain. Besides, getting pregnant would ruin your figure. How could you be a rising star then?” Then he was on the phone, speaking to a high-end postnatal wellness retreat. “When the baby is born, I want my wife’s body to be perfectly cared for. If there are any lasting complications, your facility will cease to exist.” I never, in my darkest nightmares, imagined that the man who loved me more than life itself would have me carry the child of his affair. It’s alright. I’ll disappear. I wish you two a lifetime of happiness. … I went to three different hospitals. The results of the DNA tests were all the same. The maternal DNA in the child I was carrying did not belong to me. Not a single test said otherwise. Eight months pregnant, I walked out of the hospital, the reports clutched in my hand. I had dreamed of having a child with Joey. We tried for a whole year, finally turning to IVF as our last hope. I thought this baby was the culmination of our love. Instead, I was incubating his and his mistress’s embryo. Six years of deep, unwavering love. I thought he was different. Was he no different from any other cheating husband after all? An unread message glowed on my phone. It was from a friend. A gushing sixty-second voice note spilled out: The whole city is buzzing about your due date! Joey has booked out every flower shop and billboard in New York, just to make you happy! I’m so jealous, Elara, you found the perfect man. I heard he basically dropped everything at the company the second you got pregnant, practically tripping over himself to be your butler, cooking for you, serving you tea… Yes. He loved me that much. And yet, he was trading loving glances with another woman. A bitter tide rose in my chest, so sharp it stole my breath. Everyone knew Joey couldn’t live without me. He was a man who loved money and power, a man who trusted no one. Yet, the moment we were married, he signed over his entire business empire to my name. When his parents disapproved of our marriage, he starved himself until he was hospitalized, leaving him with a chronic stomach condition. The day our IVF was confirmed a success, he wept on the spot. The entire hospital staff stared, stunned. This titan of industry, crying his eyes out because his wife was pregnant. The nurses whispered, “If a man ever loved me like that, I could die happy.” Remembering the scene I had witnessed at his office, those words were now like dull blades sawing at my heart. Why would a man who loved me so much force me to bear another woman’s child? By 10 PM, Joey had called me ninety-nine times. I answered on the one-hundredth. His voice was a choked sob. “Elara, where are you? Did something happen? Answer me! I’m going out of my mind—” His voice was so broken, so full of raw panic, it sounded utterly real. But I felt nothing. “I’m fine,” I said, my tone flat. “I’m almost home.” When I arrived, Joey was crouched by the front door, his head in his hands, a picture of agony. His assistant rushed to help me. “Ma’am, you have no idea. The boss has been searching for you for hours. He walked twenty miles, checking every mall in the vicinity. He’s sprained his ankle.” “Elara!” He scrambled to his feet, his face streaked with tears. “Why didn’t you answer? I was sick with worry. Don’t you ever do that again.” The tears streamed down his face, but they couldn’t find their way into my heart anymore. How could he say he loved me while trampling on me like this? The question was a bloody, gaping wound in my soul. I was helped to the sofa. He knelt before me, gently easing off my shoes and socks before beginning to wash my feet. His voice was thick with lingering fear, with no hint of deception. “Where did you go? You’re pregnant. If you had tripped, if anything had happened to you, what would I do?” The man who was a ruthless storm in the boardroom was now a tempest of fear and anxiety. “We worked so hard for this child. What if something had gone wrong?” A bitter, medicinal scent filled the room, making my stomach churn. Because I had a high-risk pregnancy, I had to drink a special herbal brew every day to prevent miscarriage. To protect this baby, I had always pinched my nose and forced it down. After washing my feet, he brought me the bowl of dark liquid, holding out a piece of candy. “I don’t want to drink it.” His expression changed in an instant, his face hardening. “I will grant you anything else in this world, Elara. But not this.” The image of him and that woman flashed in my mind. I gagged, a dry heave racking my body before I’d even taken a sip. He patted my back, his voice full of concern but unyielding. “The doctor said you’re high-risk. You have to drink it. If you miscarry, think of the damage to your body. Be good.” “We finally have this child,” he coaxed, his voice dropping to a seductive whisper. “If you don’t take your medicine, who will inherit the Blackwood empire?” He would say anything for the baby in my belly. Before, I would have seen this as the ultimate proof of his patience and love. Now, I saw myself for what I was: a laughable fool. The bitter liquid slid down my throat, its acrid taste a pale imitation of the acid in my heart. This was the first time I had met Joey’s mistress in person. She had a rosy, delicate beauty, a fragile air about her. It was no wonder Joey fell for her. She was introduced as Stella, a temporary replacement for our regular housekeeper. Wearing a maid’s uniform and a face mask, Stella placed a platter of fruit by my bed. “The other maid called in sick. I’ll be taking care of you tonight.” Joey sat beside me, gently feeding me slices of fruit with one hand while his other thumb flew across his phone screen. My own finger hovered over the icon on my phone that would log me into his iMessage account. Years ago, he had set it up and given me his password, a grand gesture of transparency. He must have long forgotten. I pressed it. He was texting Stella, his words sharp with anger: What are you doing here? I told you never to show your face in front of Elara. Stella: But I missed youuuu~ You never come to see me anymore~ Maybe I should just die~ Stella: Thinking of you, thinking of you, thinking of you~ Joey’s angry scowl softened, melting into a faint smile at her cloying words. He must have noticed me watching him. “Just got word a big deal at the office finally closed,” he explained smoothly. The loving man before me was cheating right under my nose. Before, I would have been touched that he made time for me despite being so busy. How many times had this happened, while I went on believing I was his one and only? The thought was so absurd it was almost funny. I glanced back at my phone. Another message from Stella to Joey popped up: Do you like this wedding dress? I can’t wait to be your wife tomorrow. [Image attached.] Joey looked down, a small, private smile playing on his lips as he typed back: You’ll be the most beautiful bride. My heart skipped a beat. The message was a lightning strike, shattering my world. I was eight months pregnant, and tomorrow, Joey was marrying someone else. While I was fighting to bring this child into the world, he was promising another woman a wedding gown and a lifetime of love. When Stella handed him a fairytale book, her eyes lingered on his, a secret, flirtatious glance passing between them. I was nothing more than an accessory to their twisted romance. Joey turned to me, his expression once again that of a doting husband, and began to read aloud, his voice a soothing balm. Since becoming pregnant, I’d had trouble sleeping. Every night, without fail, he would read to me until I drifted off. When he finished, he placed a soft kiss on my cheek. “I love you. Good night.” A sharp pain from the baby’s kick lanced through my abdomen, but he must have thought I was asleep. He slipped out of the room. The moment he was out the door, I heard Stella’s sultry whisper. “I’ve missed you so much~” Joey’s voice was sharp. “I told you. Not in front of Elara.” “Don’t you think this is more exciting? You don’t usually act this way~” I pulled the covers over my head, but their voices, their sounds, seeped through. “~You love it too, don’t you~~~~” So this was him, unleashed. This was the passion he saved for other women. I buried my face in my pillow, and the tears I’d been holding back finally broke free. The low moans and frantic whispers were like slaps across my face, one after another. The pain in my heart mingled with the pain in my belly, and I tossed and turned, trapped in a waking nightmare. Eventually, the sounds outside stopped. Joey slipped back into the room and into our bed. He wrapped his arms around me from behind, his hand stroking my face. His voice was a low murmur, thick with adoration. “Elara, I love you so, so much. I can’t live without you.” His palm was still warm with the afterglow of his passion. The embrace that had been my sanctuary for six years now felt utterly vile. “Do you remember what I told you once?” I asked the next morning, as he was finishing up breakfast. “That if you fell in love with someone else, you should just tell me, and I would disappear.” He froze. “Sweetheart, what’s wrong? There’s only you. I only love you. Don’t let your mind play tricks on you.” He immediately pulled out his phone, offering it to me for inspection. But the chat history had been wiped clean. What was there to inspect? Seeing my unmoving expression, he raised his right hand. “I swear, if I, Joey Blackwood, have ever been unfaithful, may my parents both drop dead.” A sarcastic smile touched my lips. It was amazing how easily the lies rolled off his tongue. “Honey, you have to talk to me. Don’t keep things bottled up, okay?” “If I ever betray you, may I die a horrible death and my family line end with me. Please, don’t overthink this.” “If you disappeared,” he whispered, his eyes filled with a sudden, desperate sadness, “I couldn’t go on living.” He looked so distraught he was on the verge of kneeling. I forced a smile. “I was just saying.” I thought that might make him more cautious. Instead, after breakfast, he made an excuse about work and left. I knew the truth. Stella had called him to go try on wedding tuxedos. The moment he was gone, a text from Stella arrived. : You’re a heavy sleeper. [Video attached.] I clicked play. It was from last night, filmed right outside my bedroom door. Joey, lost in the moment, burying his face in her neck, kissing her with a feral hunger. : What do you want? Stella: I want to see just how stupid a woman can be, to not know her husband has been cheating for three years. Take my advice: have the baby, then divorce him. You’ll get a bigger settlement and child support that way. : Don’t you know all of Joey’s assets are in my name? It took a long time for her to reply. : Do you know why Joey is so obsessed with this baby? Because my acting career is taking off. I can’t afford to disappear for a year. And I have a low pain tolerance. Joey can’t even stand to see me get a paper cut. So, you were the only option to carry this child. Do you get it now? If you’re smart, you’ll divorce him. If you’re not, just wait until he transfers all your assets away. : While you were suffering from morning sickness, unable to eat or sleep, do you know what Joey was doing? He was working from my apartment, just so he could spend more time with me. The words burned on the screen. A sob caught in my throat, and then I was crying, really crying, for the first time. To have this child, I had endured so much. The IVF hormones made my ovaries swell, making it impossible to eat or sleep. The egg retrieval needle, as long as my forearm, extracted more than a dozen eggs, the pain so intense I fainted on the table. For eight months, I had given myself over two hundred shots of blood thinners to maintain the pregnancy. Every day, I choked down that bitter medicine, vomiting until I was empty. Every time I felt like I couldn’t go on, I told myself to just hold on a little longer. It would all be worth it when the baby was born. Joey and I had been married for three years. I wanted a child with him more than anything in the world. Whenever he was gone, I told myself to be strong. It turned out that when he was “at work,” he was with her. I buried my head in my hands, tears streaming through my fingers. So this is how cruel you’ve always been. Today was the day of Joey and Stella’s wedding. When I woke up, I saw the blood. A large, dark stain on the white sheets. I stared at it for a long time. When I first got pregnant, the doctor had warned me there was a high chance I would miscarry. I had fought so hard to keep this baby, with the medicine, with the shots. All just to bring this child into the world. Maybe this was fate. When Joey saw the blood, he went feral. He barked orders into his phone, “Shut down the streets! Now! My wife is hemorrhaging! Get a car here immediately, now!” He swept me into his arms, his usual composure shattered as he sprinted to the car. “Faster! Go faster!” he yelled at the driver, his forehead beaded with cold sweat. The pain was making me dizzy. He was supposed to be at his wedding right now, wasn’t he? His hand trembled as he stroked my face. “It’s going to be okay, Elara. It’s okay…” He was shaking from head to toe, as if his soul was about to fly from his body in sheer terror. At the hospital, they determined it was a placental abruption. After some treatment, the doctor assured us the situation was stable. Joey remained a coiled spring of tension, terrified I might take a turn for the worse. When the doctor confirmed the baby was safe, he collapsed into a chair, letting out a long, shuddering breath. He glanced at his phone, then stepped out into the hall to make a call. When he returned, he sat by my bed, but his eyes kept darting to his watch. I chose my moment. “Is there somewhere you need to be? You can go. The doctor said I’m fine.” My permission seemed to throw him into a state of conflict. He hesitated for a long time. Finally, he turned to the medical staff. “Take care of her. If anything, and I mean anything, happens to her, this hospital will be a crater.” He didn’t realize that his choice, in that moment, was my final defeat. This was the man who once stayed home for a week to nurse me when I got a small cut on my finger. When had he become someone who could so easily leave my side to attend another woman’s wedding? My last sliver of hope vanished into thin air. The television in the hospital room was playing an entertainment news segment. A mysterious billionaire had booked the historic Century Cathedral for a private wedding. The grounds were blanketed in flowers, a real-life fairytale castle. All details of the ceremony itself, however, were on strict lockdown. Floating above the grand altar in the broadcast footage were five massive, glowing words. STELLA, I LOVE YOU. A wave of nausea and grief washed over me. I turned my head away, and in the sterile, familiar quiet of the hospital, I made the arrangements to get rid of the child of my husband and his mistress. Joey rushed from the hospital to Stella’s wedding. Just before walking into the cathedral, he sent his Elara a text. [If you need anything, just call. I’m on standby for you, always.] Stella stood before him in her wedding gown, breathtakingly beautiful. But a deep unease settled in his heart. The image of the blood on the sheets this morning kept flashing in his mind. The priest stood at the altar. “Do you, Stella, take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband, to live together in matrimony? To love him, comfort him, honor and keep him, in sickness and in health, and forsaking all others, be faithful to him, so long as you both shall live?” The words, the ancient vow, made his heart clench. He suddenly remembered Elara, years ago, standing before him, whispering, “I do.” His mind was flooded with an image of red. Elara, bleeding, eight months pregnant, all for him. “I do,” Stella said, her eyes shining with happiness. But as she spoke, his love for Elara swelled in his chest, a tidal wave of guilt and adoration threatening to consume him. He had a sudden, desperate urge to tell Elara how much she meant to him. In the middle of his own wedding, he pulled out his phone. [Elara, I love you so much. I want to be with you forever and ever. Please, please don’t ever leave me. I’ll go insane.] A small measure of peace settled over him as he hit send. A moment later, a reply popped up on his screen: I’m gone. And I’m sorry I aborted your child with Stella. The world shattered around Joey. He stared at the DNA report he’d just received on his phone. How could the mother be Stella!?

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1 The new accountant was a clumsy airhead. On payday, she transferred only one cent to me, causing my mother’s medication payment to fail. My mother died. Before I could confront her, she was already sobbing. “I’m sorry! I sent your salary to that janitor you fired!” Her husband, the CFO, shielded her. “Not her fault. You should’ve had emergency funds.” Overcome with grief, I nearly fainted. At the funeral, Scarlett hired a loud lion dance troupe. I screamed at her to leave. She cried, “I just wanted it to be lively!” I had an asthma attack and reached for my inhaler. She slapped it away, yelling, “That’s illegal!” As I collapsed, I heard her whimper, “I didn’t know it was medicine…” My husband covered for her. “Alana Vance died of grief.” That night, I was cremated unnoticed. When I opened my eyes, I was back on payday. … There was only one minute left before the online sale for my mom’s medication ended. No time to think. I frantically switched the payment card linked to my account. Ding. Payment successful. My mother was safe. Tears welled in my eyes. I looked around, my heart pounding. It was real. I was back. I took a deep breath, a storm of fury and sorrow crashing over me. Scarlett and Michael, that wretched pair who had cost me my life. I would make them pay. Just then, a figure stumbled into my office. Scarlett stood before me, bowing timidly. “Ms. Vance, I’m so sorry! I’m so clumsy, I sent your salary to Mrs. Gable!” “She’s a single mom. Life must be so hard for her after you fired her. Please, can’t we just let her keep it?” she pleaded, her eyes wide and innocent as she tugged on my sleeve. I let out a sharp, humorless laugh and shoved her hand away. “Let’s get one thing straight. Mrs. Gable and I are both victims here.” “The person responsible for this mess is you. You’d better fix it, and fix it fast. Otherwise, I’m reporting this to upper management.” I had just closed a huge deal last month. My commission was at least a hundred thousand dollars. Scarlett’s face went white. She saw me pull out my phone and lunged for it. “Ms. Vance, you earn so much! Can’t you just consider it charity?” My salary was the money I worked myself to the bone for, money to save my mother’s life. The thought made my teeth ache with hatred for this woman. I pushed her away without hesitation. I didn’t use much force, but she let out a piercing scream. “Scarlett? What’s wrong?” Michael, my husband, burst into the room. “Mr. Hayes, I’m so sorry! I’m so stupid, I made Ms. Vance angry!” Scarlett sobbed into his chest. His eyes, when they turned to me, were chips of ice. “Alana! Does bullying a young girl make you feel powerful?” “Are you that desperate for money? It’s just a hundred grand. I’ll transfer it to you, alright?” A notification chimed, confirming the transfer, but my heart felt like it was being squeezed in a vise. When my mother had been rushed to the ER, I had begged him for help with the medical bills. He’d lectured me about keeping our finances separate before marriage. Now, to clean up Scarlett’s mess, he didn’t even blink. “There’s your money. But you scared Scarlett. Apologize to her.” My head snapped up. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “What did you say?” Michael’s tone grew colder. “You pushed her. You should apologize.” Scarlett tugged at his sleeve. “Michael, it’s fine. I’m just a clumsy person. I don’t hold grudges, even when I’m bullied.” But Michael took a step forward, his hand clamping onto the back of my neck, forcing my head down. The humiliation ignited a firestorm of rage, burning away all reason. I don’t know where the strength came from, but I broke free and slapped him, hard, across the face. “Michael Hayes, are you trying to get fired from your position as CFO?” Before he could answer, Scarlett shrieked, clutching at him. “She hit him! Help! Ms. Vance is assaulting someone!” I gave a cold smile. “That’s right, I hit him. Go on, call the police.” “You two treat company funds like a joke. Let’s have the police sort this out.” Scarlett’s wailing stopped abruptly. She avoided my gaze, looking guilty. Perhaps my expression was truly terrifying, because Michael’s voice softened. “Alana, you know Scarlett has always been a bit… slow. Mistakes happen.” “Let’s not make a scene in front of the other employees. We can discuss this at home.” That wasn’t the tune he was singing when he was trying to force me to apologize. I looked at Scarlett cowering behind him and forced a smile. “Really? But this company doesn’t employ idiots. Nor does it employ traitors who sell us out.” At my words, Michael’s face flushed a deep, angry red. “What are you talking about!” He looked flustered for a moment, then puffed out his chest, putting on his executive air. “Alana, if I recall, you have a meeting with Orion Group next week to discuss the next quarter’s partnership.” “You should give newcomers like Scarlett more opportunities to learn. Then maybe these mistakes wouldn’t happen.” I raised an eyebrow. “Fine by me. But just so we’re clear, whatever happens is on you.” He looked pleased that I’d agreed so readily. Scarlett practically jumped into his arms with excitement. “Thank you for trusting me, Mr. Hayes! It’s a good thing I’m not on Ms. Vance’s team, otherwise, how would I ever grow?” “Don’t mind her,” Michael soothed. “Scarlett, I can see you have great potential. Go for it.” Scarlett’s pathetic attempt at a veiled insult was utterly worthless to me. I just smirked and showed them the door. Orion Group was our biggest client. Losing them would cripple our core business. Since Michael had so much faith in Scarlett’s abilities, I was happy to let him have his way. This time, without me to clean up her mess, let’s see who had the skills to salvage the disaster she was sure to create. But I had clearly underestimated the depths of human stupidity. Scarlett had chosen a remote, rustic farmhouse for the meeting. The place was so high up in the mountains that not even a golf cart could make the final ascent. The Orion executives, all middle-aged men, nearly had heart attacks climbing the trail in the hundred-degree heat. Scarlett, meanwhile, skipped along with a portable fan clipped to her shirt. Utterly oblivious, she turned and pointed at the lead executive, chirping, “Mister, you’ve got three spare tires around your belly! You should exercise more!” “But don’t thank me, thank Ms. Vance! If she hadn’t invited me, I never would have picked such a wonderful place!” The executive’s face was a thundercloud. He didn’t say another word for the rest of the climb. At dinner, I was treated to another masterclass in incompetence. For a business meeting, Scarlett hadn’t ordered a single bottle of wine. Orange juice, coconut milk, Coke… There wasn’t even a single impressive main course. The table sat in stunned silence. Even Michael couldn’t take it anymore. He hissed at her, “Scarlett, what the hell is this? This is a business negotiation, not a tea party!” Her eyes immediately filled with tears. She looked at me, her voice thick with blame. “This was Ms. Vance’s account. She didn’t teach me what to do. How was I supposed to know?” And there it was. There was no real idiot here. Scarlett had seen my huge commission last month and wanted to sabotage me, then pin the blame on me. I just kept my head down and ate, offering no help whatsoever. A moment later, the lead executive from Orion slammed his chopsticks down. His face was livid as he met my gaze. “Ms. Vance, if it weren’t for our long-standing relationship, Orion would be taking its business elsewhere this quarter.” Before I could respond, Michael was on his feet, sweating profusely. “Mr. Sterling, please don’t be angry! This is all just a…” “A what? Ms. Vance and I have been working together for years! Your company has never been this absurd!” With that, Mr. Sterling and his team turned and stormed back down the mountain, leaving Michael standing there, frozen. Scarlett was still sniffling. “Ms. Vance, now you won’t get your deal. Are you going to be mad at me?” “Shut up!” Michael finally roared at her. Scarlett’s tears started flowing in earnest. The second we got back to the office, we were all summoned to the CEO’s office. The boss looked furious. Michael was the first to speak, twisting the narrative. “You knew Scarlett was inexperienced, yet you just sat there and watched her mess everything up? Alana, did you do this on purpose?” I spoke calmly. “I said I would not be responsible for the consequences. Mr. Hayes, you were the one who said we should give young people a chance to grow. I gave her the chance. Are you not satisfied with the results of her growth?” My words left him sputtering with rage. “You’re just twisting my words!” The CEO’s gaze flickered between me and Michael. In the end, the hammer fell on me. “Alana, you’re the head of the sales department! To just watch a client walk away like that… I’m very disappointed in you.” “Your entire quarterly bonus is revoked. I want you to take some time and reflect on this.” It was always like this. No matter what the truth was, I was always the one who had to bear the consequences. Scarlett’s stupidity was forgivable. Michael’s poor judgment was a minor misstep. But me? The better my performance, the lower my pay seemed to get. My heart sank. The last flicker of hope I had for this place was extinguished. I said nothing, just nodded. “Understood, sir.” I walked out of the office, took a deep breath, and made a phone call. “Hello, this is Alana Vance. I’m available to talk whenever you are.” I stopped paying attention to the office drama. I heard Scarlett’s “clumsy beauty” reputation was now company-wide, thanks to a string of blunders. I went about my work as usual, until I noticed last month’s expense reimbursements hadn’t been processed. The money I had prepaid at the hospital for my mom’s care was running low. I went to find Scarlett. In front of the entire office, she blinked her big, innocent eyes at me. “Ms. Vance, are you sure you gave me your receipts? Or are you just trying to use ‘reimbursement’ as an excuse to get more money?” “That’s not allowed, you know. Even for a manager, Scarlett can’t bend the rules~” My face hardened. I kicked her chair out from under her. Did she really think I’d fall for the same trick twice? She screamed as she tumbled to the floor. The fall revealed the shredder bin under her desk, overflowing with chopped-up receipts. I picked up a handful and read them aloud. “Mr. Peterson, Ms. Liu, Mr. Chen… so this is where your receipts went! No wonder no one got their money back last month!” A shocked murmur went through the office. When it came to money, no one was going to let it slide. Ms. Liu’s face darkened. “What’s the point of having an accountant who doesn’t know the first thing about accounting?!” Scarlett fell silent, just sat on the floor and cried. In the end, Michael had to pay everyone out of his own pocket to smooth things over. Next, Scarlett “accidentally” sent the company’s confidential financial statements to every single one of my suppliers. With our bottom line exposed, they all immediately demanded a price hike. The entire company was thrown into chaos. “Michael! If Scarlett screws up one more time, you can both pack your bags and get out!” The CEO’s enraged roar was audible even through the closed door. Michael emerged, looking defeated. He automatically turned to me to fix his problem. “Alana, find new suppliers. And the prices have to be lower than what we were paying before.” I looked at his entitled expression and found the situation utterly absurd. I had gotten us those prices by drinking until I had a bleeding ulcer. Scarlett’s jealousy had ruined the company’s supply chain, and I was expected to clean up the mess? I gave a cold laugh and pulled out the divorce papers. “You want me to clean up your mess? Fine. Sign this.” Michael stared at the papers, stunned. A flicker of conflict crossed his face, but then he gritted his teeth, snatched the pen, and signed his name. The scratch of the nib on the paper was unnaturally loud in the quiet office. I thought I would feel a pang of sadness. But my love for Michael had died in my last life. For once, I left work early to celebrate with friends. Scarlett, who usually bolted out the door the second the clock hit five, knocked on my office door. “What is it?” “Ms. Vance, what’s your number? We should exchange contact info, to make it easier to communicate about work.” She was smiling, but I saw a cold glint in her eyes. I pretended not to notice. “For work matters, just use the internal messaging system.” “Ms. Vance, you said it yourself!” she chirped, looking oddly excited. I just nodded and left. That night, I stumbled home, pleasantly buzzed. The wail of sirens filled the air outside my building. Before I knew what was happening, I was surrounded by police officers, telling me I needed to come with them to the office. It was only when I arrived that I found out what had happened. Late at night, Scarlett had initiated an unauthorized wire transfer of several million dollars to an unknown account. The CEO had nearly had a heart attack when he found out and had immediately called the police. When Scarlett saw me being escorted in, she pointed a shaking finger at me and screamed, “Ms. Vance! You were the one who told me that was the new supplier’s account! You told me to process it as soon as possible! You sent me an internal message!” “I may be a little stupid, but I would never dare to transfer such a huge amount of money on my own!” The lead officer’s face was grim. “Ms. Vance, the internal logs show that you authenticated the account information for Ms. Scarlett and urged her to make the payment.” My expression changed. I met the smug, triumphant looks on Michael and Scarlett’s faces and suddenly, I started to laugh. My voice was calm, clear, and steady. “The message was sent at 11 PM last night. However…” I paused, my eyes sweeping over Michael’s face. “As of yesterday afternoon, I had already officially submitted my resignation and had been removed from all internal company groups and platforms.” “So, my question is, who exactly sent that message?”

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1 All because I smoked a cigarette in the designated smoking area, the new Vice President docked my department’s million-dollar bonus. “The moment I stepped into the smoking area and lit up, you posted a no-smoking policy in the company-wide chat. Are you targeting me on purpose?” “Yes,” she said with a smug grin. “I’m making an example of you.” “Fine, punish me. But the department bonus isn’t mine alone—it belongs to the whole team. You can’t punish them for what I did.” “Why didn’t they report you? They deserve to be punished right along with you!” she shot back, her voice sharp and merciless. “Fine,” I said with a faint smile. “I accept the punishment.” Then I immediately applied for my annual leave. A day later, the entire company was in a desperate frenzy, trying to find me. … “Lia, the company just issued a no-smoking policy, and you’re already flouting the rules! This is outrageous! As a penalty, I am hereby announcing that your department’s entire quarterly bonus is revoked!” The new VP, Vivian Shaw, clicked her stilettos across the floor and stormed into the smoking area, her voice echoing with indignation. “What no-smoking policy?” I asked, a half-smoked cigarette still between my fingers, my face a mask of confusion. “Did you just say you’re docking our department’s entire one-million-dollar bonus for the quarter?” “That’s right! The entire million-dollar bonus is gone!” Vivian deliberately raised her voice. Her shout jolted my colleagues, who were napping at their desks in our office, wide awake. They all stared at me in disbelief. This quarter, our product design department had pulled countless all-nighters to land a massive contract, bringing in over a hundred million in revenue for the company. The Chairman himself had personally approved the million-dollar bonus. Today was payday, the end of the quarter. Our bonuses were supposed to be included. And just like that, with a single sentence from Vivian, it was all gone? “First thing this morning, I posted the new company regulations in the group chat,” she snapped. “The very first rule is a company-wide ban on smoking to protect the health of our employees. You’re a department manager. Don’t you even read company announcements? Now, put out that cigarette!” “I walked into the smoking area and lit my cigarette before you posted that rule in the chat. Are you targeting me on purpose?” I opened my phone. The timestamp on her post was just moments after I’d stepped outside. It was perfectly timed. “Yes, I am!” she declared, a triumphant smirk on her face. “I needed to make an example of someone.” “Your product design department, and especially you, its manager, have been strutting around this company like you own the place for too long. Since you’re so eager to stick your neck out, you’re the perfect one to sacrifice to establish my authority.” Vivian preened, theatrically wafting away the smoke I’d exhaled. “Ms. Shaw, this is a designated smoking area. I wasn’t smoking inside the main office,” I stated, my voice even and calm. Our department was the busiest in the company. We were constantly working overtime, and design work is mentally draining. Everyone on my team smoked. To accommodate us, the Chairman had given us a corner office with an attached terrace specifically for smoking, ensuring the smoke never drifted into the rest of the building. I had even paid out of my own pocket to install a high-powered, imported air purifier in our office and stocked up on smoke-eliminating spray and mouthwash. I made it a strict rule for my team: before leaving our office area, you spray down and use mouthwash. We did it to avoid bothering colleagues who were sensitive to smoke, and in all the years, there had never been a single complaint. “Isn’t the terrace company property? Did you not read the rule? The ban is company-wide!” “Ms. Shaw, did the Chairman approve this penalty?” I knew she was targeting me, so I had no choice but to bring up the big boss. My team and I had just pulled an all-nighter to finish the designs for a new client, finally securing the deal. We were all exhausted, practically dead on our feet, sleeping at our desks without even having had breakfast. When the official workday started, two other colleagues who were still awake and I had come out to the terrace for a smoke to wake ourselves up. They’d finished theirs and gone back inside to rest. I had a meeting coming up, so I lit a second one for a final jolt of energy. I had already seen Vivian hiding nearby, spying on our office through the glass. She had deliberately waited until I was alone to make her move. “The penalty notice has already been signed by the General Manager. See for yourself!” she said, shoving a document in my face. “And in a few minutes, I’ll be sending out a company-wide email to publicly censure you!” So, she wasn’t even pretending. She’d had the penalty notice drawn up and signed before she’d even “caught” me. “Ms. Shaw, I was the one smoking. It was my violation. Fine me, I accept it. But the department bonus isn’t just mine. You can dock my portion, but you can’t punish the entire team for my actions.” “Why didn’t they report you? They deserve to be punished right along with you!” she retorted, her tone merciless. Then she leaned in close, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “Let me be honest, Lia. I’m doing this so they’ll all resent you for losing their money.” “Such a clever plan, Ms. Shaw. Fine. I accept the punishment.” I paused. “Just don’t come to regret this.” I took one last, long drag from my cigarette, crushed the butt under my heel, and blew the smoke directly into her face. “Lia, this is obviously a setup! Are we just going to take this?” “No way, Lia! We can’t let that bitch Vivian walk all over us! You have to go to the Chairman!” “Are you an idiot? The Chairman is in Europe for a conference. Vivian deliberately waited until he was out of the country to pull this.” “My bonus… I promised my wife I’d buy her a new bag with it. Damn it!” After Vivian had strutted away, my team gathered around me, fuming. Of course, I knew it was a setup. The fact that she had a penalty notice signed by the General Manager, Mark, was all the proof I needed that they had officially declared war on me. Mark was a portly, greasy middle-aged man. On a business trip once, he’d tried to get me drunk and then used a spare key card to get into my hotel room in the middle of the night. Fortunately, I was prepared. I used a self-defense move that nearly cost him his family jewels, and he had scrambled out of my room, whimpering. He’d held a grudge ever since. It was no secret that Vivian was Mark’s mistress. In her paranoid little mind, she had convinced herself that I was also his mistress and therefore her rival. She’d been spreading vicious rumors about me for years—that I’d slept my way to my position, that I’d had orgies with clients on business trips, that I’d performed stripteases on dining tables, that she’d personally seen me at a clinic getting an abortion. But Vivian’s plan to turn my team against me was a spectacular failure. Everyone in the company knew that the product design department was the most unified team. There were two reasons for that. One, my skills were undeniable, and under my leadership, they produced outstanding work. Two, I was fiercely protective of my people. I fought tooth and nail for every benefit and every bonus they deserved. They made good money with me. “Everyone, calm down. What’s there to be afraid of?” I said, a cool, confident smile playing on my lips. “Vivian is coming after me. She thinks she can grind me into the dust? In her dreams.” “I promise you all, you will not lose a single cent of that million-dollar bonus. If the company refuses to pay it, I will cover it myself.” The colleague who had mentioned his wife’s bag blushed and scratched his head. “Lia, that’s not what I meant…” “I know. You all worked your asses off this quarter. You earned that bonus, and Vivian Shaw is not going to take it from you.” “Alright, you’ve all been up all night. Go home, get some real sleep. Come back in tomorrow.” I started ushering my team, with their dark circles and bloodshot eyes, towards the door. “But Lia, Apex Holdings is coming tomorrow to review the final designs! We’re not finished yet!” “Yeah, Lia! Vivian just set you up. If we all leave now, she’ll just use it as another excuse to come after you.” Their concern was genuine. “Don’t worry. I’ve got this. There won’t be any problems. I’ll handle the finishing touches. The Chairman approved a flexible work schedule for our department, remember?” With my insistence, the entire team finally went home. Moments later, Vivian posted the official penalty notice in the company-wide group chat. She also sent a mass email, with my name, Lia Vance, in bold and enlarged font, ensuring no one could possibly miss it. The email concluded with another bolded sentence: “This company has a zero-tolerance policy for secondhand smoke. Lia Vance has deliberately flouted the rules, showing a blatant disregard for the health of her colleagues. This is both foolish and malicious. Any further infractions will result in immediate termination.” “A million dollars, just like that? Vivian is playing dirty with Lia.” “Serves her right! The design department gets the biggest bonuses every year. Why should they get so much when the rest of us get so little? Let’s see how arrogant that slut is now!” I had just walked into the restroom when I overheard two women from another department gossiping. “You. Out,” I said, glaring at the one who hadn’t been speaking. She scurried away, head down. Smack! I grabbed the other woman by the hair and delivered two sharp slaps across her face. “Lia! What the hell! You can’t just hit people!” she shrieked, clutching her cheek. But when she met my cold, murderous gaze, her bravado vanished. “Get out.” From the restroom, I went straight to HR and submitted a request for my annual leave. I hadn’t taken a vacation in three years. It was about time. “Lia, this request needs to be signed by Ms. Shaw,” the HR manager said, looking at me with an apologetic, knowing glance. “That’s another one of the new rules she implemented today.” “Fine.” I took the form and went directly to Vivian’s office. “Ms. Shaw, I’m taking my annual leave. I need your signature.” “Lia, I thought you were here to resign,” she said, a wicked smile playing on her lips as she took the form. “I’ll resign after my vacation. You win, Ms. Shaw. I can’t compete with you. I’m too humiliated to show my face here anymore.” “I just want to use up my vacation days and get a little extra pay. You wouldn’t deny me that small comfort, would you?” I kept my head down, feigning a look of defeated resignation. “Oh, Lia, you can’t resign!” Vivian giggled. “If you leave, who will I have to torment?” She scribbled her signature on the form with a flourish. I snatched the paper from her without a word and turned to leave. You idiot, I thought. Let’s see how long that smile lasts. I packed my things, making sure to lock the box of premium Cohiba cigars—the Apex Holdings CEO’s favorite—in my desk drawer. Then I turned off my phone and began my vacation. “Lia, the CEO of Apex is furious! He’s threatening to cancel the contract! Mark is freaking out and screaming at us to find you immediately.” My team member, Leo, was laughing as he spoke to me on my backup phone. “No rush,” I said calmly. “I have thirty days of vacation. We’ll talk when I get back.” “Lia, you won’t believe this. Mark started calling us into his office one by one, trying to turn us against you. He promised to immediately reinstate the quarterly bonus for whoever could find you and get you to come back. The old bastard is really desperate. I heard the Chairman called him from Europe and chewed him out. Told him that if the Apex project falls through, he’ll be held personally responsible.” The next day, as I was lounging on a beach chair, smoking a cigarette and watching the waves, Leo called again. “And?” I asked. “Don’t worry, our department is solid. I’m keeping an eye on things. No one gave him your backup number. We all told him your main phone is off and you’re not responding to any emails or messages. We have no way to contact you.” Leo was still chuckling, clearly enjoying the chaos. “Good. Let them sweat.” With that, I hung up. “Lia, the Chairman flew back from Europe. This thing has really blown up,” Leo reported that evening. “Mark has been trying everything to appease the Apex CEO—sending women to his hotel, showering him with gifts—but the guy isn’t biting. He left a final message: he wants to see you within three days, or the deal is off. Then he flew back to the capital. When the Chairman heard Mark couldn’t handle it, he flew straight to the capital himself, presumably to beg for forgiveness.” “Understood. Keep me posted,” I said, lying back on my plush hotel bed and turning on a movie. Vacation was bliss. “Lia, the Chairman is back, and he looks like he’s about to kill someone. The whole office is dead silent. Mark and Vivian look like naughty schoolchildren. They’ve been coming to our office a dozen times a day, trying to get any information about you. They’re in a total panic. You should see the look on Vivian’s face. It’s worse than a funeral.” “Oh, right, the important stuff! The Chairman came to our office too. He said our quarterly bonus has been fully reinstated. It’s already in our accounts. Did you get yours?” “And then… he asked us, almost begged us, if anyone could get in touch with you. Lia, is it time? Is the pot boiling?” “Should we give him your number? I think it’s time to come back. If we really lose the Apex contract, all our hard work will have been for nothing. What do you think?” Leo called again the next morning. “Alright, I’ll call the Chairman now. When I get back, I want to see the look on Vivian’s face.” After hanging up with Leo, I dialed the Chairman’s number. “Lia! You’ve finally surfaced! I was about to have a heart attack!” “I’ve gotten to the bottom of this whole situation. It’s all because of those two idiots, Vivian and Mark. I’ve already given them a severe reprimand.” “Lia, please come back. The Apex project… only you can handle it. Their CEO, Mr. Sterling, will only work with you. If you close this deal, I’ll double your department’s bonus. Two million dollars. What do you say?” The Chairman’s voice was laced with anxiety. “Chairman, I can come back. But this business with Vivian… are we just letting it go?” “Of course not! Her reckless behavior has caused a massive problem for this company. I will punish her severely. And as for how… I’ll let you decide. You call the shots.” “Alright. In that case, I have a few conditions.” “Lia, name your price! Anything you want! Just get back here and lock down this Apex deal. I’ll agree to anything!” The Chairman was truly desperate. The Apex project would bring in over a billion in revenue, with profits in the hundreds of millions. As the owner of the company, he wasn’t about to let that slip through his fingers. “Okay,” I said. “I’m on my way back.” “Chairman, I want a public apology from Vivian Shaw. To me, and to my entire department.”

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1 My funeral was grand, fitting for a duke’s wife. As I lay in my coffin, guests whispered of my blessed life—a respected husband, devoted children, a lifetime of honor. No one knew the truth. No one knew I had been locked in the cellar and starved to death. My husband, Duke Alistair, leaned on my casket and sighed with false grief. “Don’t blame me, Elara. You forced this marriage on me when I was ill. You stole the title from the woman I loved—condemning Liana to be a hidden mistress for decades. She is kind and gentle,” he continued venomously. “You bullied her for thirty years. Now I can finally make her my wife properly. Consider this your atonement.” On the seventh day of my wake, he moved Liana into my rooms with bells and celebration. I died bitter and full of hate. Then, I was reborn. This time, I took my dowry and prepared to leave—to let the tragic lovers have their miserable ending. But when I tried, Alistair tore our annulment papers to shreds and fell to his knees like a madman, begging me to return. … I awoke on the night my daughter, Rosalie, planned to elope. I had just intercepted her, and she stood before me now, eyes red-rimmed and blazing with resentment as she pointed an accusing finger. “What do you know? Leo is a brilliant man! The only reason he hasn’t found success is because lesser men are jealous of his talent!” she spat. “We are in love! You’re just trying to ruin my happiness!” In my last life, I had investigated this “brilliant” man, Leo. I discovered he already had a wife and children back in his village. Worse, he was a petty thief with the morals of an alley cat. When I presented Rosalie with this evidence, she broke off contact with him immediately. Six months later, I used half of my personal fortune as her dowry, securing her a marriage to the kingdom’s most promising King’s Scholar. She ascended the social ladder with him, becoming one of the most celebrated ladies in the capital. Years later, when my legs were paralyzed and I was imprisoned in that damp cellar, Rosalie appeared, draped in silks and jewels. I clutched at the hem of her gown, my voice a dry rasp. “Rosalie, please. I haven’t eaten in three days. Can you just… give me a piece of bread?” Her response was a vicious kick that sent me sprawling. “You have the nerve to ask for food?” she hissed. “If I hadn’t listened to your lies and broken things off with Leo, he wouldn’t have been so destitute he had to steal a wallet. He wouldn’t have been beaten to death in the street!” Tears of rage streamed down her perfect face. “Do you have any idea what you took from me? He was the first man I ever loved. The King’s Scholar can shower me with kindness, but he will never be him.” She didn’t just resent me for ruining her first love; she hated me for separating her from her “real” mother. After marrying Alistair, I suffered through nine stillbirths. The ordeal broke my body, leaving me barren. So, Alistair had his mistress Liana’s two children legally registered as my own, for me to raise. Liana was a mere songstress. I was the only daughter of a powerful Duke, the Queen’s own niece. Under my name, Rosalie’s station was elevated beyond her wildest dreams. And now, she glared at me as if I were her jailer. “If my real mother were here, she would never stop me from being with the man I love! You just can’t stand to see me happy!” A memory of the cellar, of the gnawing hunger and her final, cruel kick, flashed through my mind. A slow, cold smile touched my lips. “You’re right,” I said, my voice calm. “It was wrong of me to separate you from your mother. Since I’ve made you so unhappy, perhaps I should simply return you to Liana’s care. It’s the least I can do to honor your deep mother-daughter bond.” Rosalie’s face froze. “No,” she blurted out, the word escaping before she could stop it. To do so would be to announce to the world that she, Rosalie, was not the granddaughter of a great Duke, but the bastard child of a common performer. Her status, the fawning admiration of the other noble daughters—it would all evaporate in an instant. “That’s enough.” The sharp rebuke came from the doorway. Alistair entered, Liana clinging delicately to his arm. “What nonsense are you spouting now, Elara? Rosalie is just a child. You can’t hold a grudge against her. If you can’t even command the respect of a child, perhaps you should reflect on your own failings as a matriarch.” I looked at Alistair’s face, so much younger than I remembered it, and felt a wave of pure hatred wash over me. When he had been gravely ill, the old Duke, his father, heard a prophecy that only a union with a daughter of my House could save his son. He knelt before my own father and begged for my hand. Moved by his love for his child, I agreed. After our wedding, Alistair’s health miraculously improved day by day. He was outwardly grateful, but secretly, he seethed with resentment, believing I had stolen his true love’s rightful place. It wasn’t until I was dying that I learned the truth about my nine pregnancies. They hadn’t been stillbirths. Each time, I had delivered a healthy, living child. And each time, while I lay unconscious from the ordeal, Alistair himself had ordered the infant to be taken away and drowned. He did it so I would have no child of my own, so I would devote myself entirely to raising his and Liana’s children. The moment Rosalie saw Liana, she crumpled, throwing herself into the woman’s arms with a gut-wrenching sob as if she’d been mortally wounded. Liana embraced her, her own eyes misting over. “Oh, my darling. If only I had the right to decide for you, I would never let you suffer so.” They clung to each other, a portrait of tragic, maternal love. Alistair’s heart visibly ached for them. He turned on me, his voice lashing out. “I should have known. You can’t truly care for a child that isn’t your own. I was a fool to think you would treat her well.” He gestured angrily at Rosalie’s hand. “Look! You’ve even injured her!” The tiny scratch on Rosalie’s hand was from when she had hurled a vase at my head moments earlier. The three of them stared at me with matching expressions of disgust, as if I were the villain who had torn their perfect family apart. I was too weary to explain. Instead, I looked at Rosalie and said evenly, “Since your birth parents feel so strongly, I will grant your wish. You have my permission to be with your Leo.” I remembered the fortune I’d spent, the favors I’d called in, all to secure her marriage to the brilliant King’s Scholar in my past life. Rosalie didn’t deserve the future I had built for her. Her eyes lit up with triumph, but the color drained from Liana’s face. She had never approved of some penniless scholar she wouldn’t normally spare a second glance for. She had only supported Rosalie’s infatuation because she was certain I would forbid it, creating a rift between me and the girl. It was her favorite tactic. She never imagined I would simply agree. Liana’s face was a mask of fury. She wanted to object, but couldn’t find the words. Just then, a hulking shape barreled into the room and slammed into me, sending a sharp, radiating pain through my side. It was Liana’s son, Gideon. He glared at me, his eyes burning with malice. “You’re bullying my sister and my mother again! You think this will make us call you ‘Mother’? Dream on! We will never accept you.” His voice rose to a childish shriek. “When I grow up, I’ll make sure the whole city knows what a wicked, evil woman you are! You stole us from our mother just so you could torture us every day!” I frowned, almost failing to recognize the boy who now weighed nearly three hundred pounds. In my past life, I had been told that his obesity would affect his health and his ability to produce an heir, not to mention the ridicule he would face. So, I forced him to exercise daily and personally oversaw his portioned meals. Because of this, he grew into a strong and powerful man. His physical prowess on the battlefield earned him the title of ‘General of the Realm,’ securing him a future of power and glory. The first thing Gideon did upon his triumphant return was to order his men to deliver me a single bowl of dog’s food every other day. I could still hear his gleeful laughter. “You tortured me, starved me! Now you get a taste of your own medicine! You claimed it was ‘for my own good,’ you venomous snake. My mother told me the truth: the fatter I am, the stronger I’ll be! If you hadn’t forced me to lose weight, I would have been a general years sooner!” So that was it. My constant care, my meticulous planning, my every waking concern for his well-being—it had all been twisted into hatred. A sharp, familiar pain lanced through my heart, mingling with the fresh burn of resentment. The people I had poured my entire soul into caring for had become the very daggers that ended my life. I lifted my gaze to meet Liana’s. She was hiding behind Alistair, a triumphant smirk playing on her lips. Before I could speak, Gideon’s massive body blocked my view again. “What are you planning now?” he demanded, his voice laced with suspicion. “Are you thinking of how to hurt my mother? You touch her, and I swear, I will make you pay when I’m a man.” My heart felt like a frozen lake. I looked from him to Rosalie, my voice devoid of all emotion. “From now on, you will no longer have to exercise. You will no longer have to eat those ‘terrible’ meals.” I let the words hang in the air. “From this day forward, you have only one mother, and her name is Liana. You are nothing to me.” The two of them, who had been glaring at me with such pure hatred, simply stared, momentarily stunned into silence. Without another glance at any of them, I turned and walked out of the room. After leaving the estate, I went directly to the royal palace to request an audience with my aunt, the Queen. The last time I had seen her was just after my wedding, when she had gifted me a treasure trove of priceless heirlooms. This time, I came with only one request: a royal decree to annul my marriage to Alistair. The Ducal estate had been bleeding money for years, a fact I had hidden by constantly supplementing its accounts with my own dowry funds. If I asked Alistair for a divorce directly, he would never let me leave with my fortune intact. The Queen was taken aback. “Elara, are you certain? You cannot bear children. Do you know how many women in this kingdom envy you for Alistair’s devotion in spite of that?” A bitter taste filled my mouth. She didn’t know. She didn’t know that to ensure I would raise Liana’s children as my own, Alistair had personally murdered nine of ours. I closed my eyes for a moment, then met her gaze, my voice unwavering. “I am certain. And I will not regret this.” “Very well,” she said, her expression hardening with resolve. “I will speak to the King on your behalf.” When I returned to the estate, Rosalie was already happily choosing fabrics for her wedding dress. Liana stood beside her, her smile strained. She didn’t want to anger her daughter, but she was silently cursing me for not intervening. Rosalie saw me and rolled her eyes as if I were a bad omen. Then, a thought occurred to her, and she spoke with undisguised impatience. “Leo has already sent the betrothal gift. You need to prepare my dowry. I heard that when you married Father, your dowry was five thousand acres of land, countless properties, and chests of silver.” She looked me dead in the eye. “Mine can be no less than that.” I almost laughed out loud. The sheer audacity. My grandfather was the Royal Treasurer, a man whose wealth rivaled kingdoms. I was his most beloved granddaughter, and he had nearly emptied his vaults for my dowry. Rosalie was the daughter of a songstress, marrying a penniless, two-bit scholar. And she dared to make such demands. Just then, a servant entered, hesitantly holding a sickly-looking goose and a small pouch. “My Lady, the betrothal gift from the young miss’s fiancé has arrived.” The pouch clinked with the sound of ten silver coins. A snort of laughter escaped me before I could stop it. Rosalie instantly exploded. “I told Leo not to worry about a grand gesture! It’s not his fault he’s a scholar and has no money! My dowry will be more than enough to support us both!” Liana seized the opportunity to chime in. “That’s right, Your Grace. Rosalie is your daughter now. You can’t be stingy with her dowry. Think of the family’s reputation.” In my last life, I had given her nearly half of my entire fortune. Even with her reckless spending, it would have been enough to ensure her comfort for the rest of her days. But things were different now. I had no connection to this house, and she was no longer my daughter. “You’ve never acknowledged me as your mother,” I said slowly, letting each word land. “You’ve only ever wanted Liana. It seems only right that your real mother should be the one to provide your dowry.” Liana panicked. “Why should I have to pay? I have no money!” She realized how quickly she had refused and bit her lip, her eyes welling with crocodile tears. “I know what you’re doing. You’re trying to force me away from my own daughter. But I only want to see her happy.” She dabbed at her eyes. “If you don’t want me here, I’ll go. Just please, don’t take your anger out on poor Rosalie.” She turned to run, weeping, and collided perfectly with Alistair’s chest as he entered the room. He wrapped his arms around her, frowning at me in displeasure. “What is this now, Elara? Haven’t you pushed Liana far enough? You’re deliberately trying to provoke her. Your cruelty knows no bounds. Apologize to her at once.” Gideon had appeared from somewhere as well, planting his bulky frame in front of Liana like a shield. His tiny eyes, nearly swallowed by his fleshy cheeks, glared at me as if I were about to strike her. They looked at me as if I were a monster, the sole obstacle to their happy family of four. A humorless smile touched my lips. “If my presence is so distasteful to all of you, then I will simply leave.” “What madness are you on about now?” Alistair snapped, his patience wearing thin. “I am not mad, Alistair. I want an annulment.” I let my gaze sweep over all of them. “You blame me for stealing Liana’s rightful place? Fine. I’m giving it back. Rosalie, Gideon—you want to be with your real mother? Your wish is granted.” For some reason, my declaration was met with a stunned silence. After a long moment, Rosalie scoffed. “Do you really think she’ll leave? She’s just trying to scare us.” She turned to me, her expression dripping with scorn. “You’re a barren old woman. The moment word gets out, you’ll be the laughingstock of the entire city. Who do you think would possibly want you now, Elara?” Gideon seemed to relax at her words, a mocking smirk replacing his tension. “You throw this household into chaos every day. Father is merciful enough not to cast you out entirely, and you’re still not satisfied? What more could you possibly want?” I ignored them, tossing a thick ledger onto the table in front of them. “I will not touch a single thing that belongs to this house. But my dowry—everything I brought with me—I am taking it all.” “You wouldn’t dare!” Rosalie shrieked, her voice high and piercing. “I’m getting married! That’s my dowry! I’m telling you, if you want to leave, then go! But you’re not taking a single coin with you!” Liana grew anxious as well. Their extravagant lifestyle was funded by me subsidizing the estate’s ledgers. If I took my fortune, the well would run dry. Alistair’s brow remained tightly furrowed. “You have been my wife for over a decade,” he said, his tone severe. “You’re still drawing lines between what is yours and what is ours? It’s clear you never once considered this your home.” He waved a dismissive hand. “Go, if you must. But don’t come crying back to me when you regret it. And the contents of the treasury have nothing to do with you. They belong to this house.” Seeing me remain silent, he must have thought his threats had worked. His voice softened. “Alright, that’s enough. If you apologize properly, I will allow you to continue raising the children. They may not accept you now, but with time and proper care, they will eventually come to see you as their mother.” A cold laugh echoed in my mind. What a perfect plan. In my last life, I had cared for them, schemed for them, spent my fortune, and ruined my health for them, only to be murdered by their own hands. I couldn’t wait to see how this life would turn out for them, now that they could no longer feed on me like leeches. Rosalie would marry her beloved scholar. Gideon could indulge his every gluttonous whim. And Alistair could finally have his precious Liana. Let them have everything they ever wanted. Alistair was about to say more when a servant burst into the room, his face pale with panic. “My Lord! A royal decree has arrived from the palace!”

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I was the true heir of Blackwood Manor, lost for forty years. When the Blackwood family finally found me, I already had three children. The day I returned, my father, Duke Alistair Blackwood, warned me: “You’ve lived a simple life, untaught in proper society. To outsiders, I will introduce you as an adopted daughter of Blackwood Manor.” “As for that crude country husband of yours, and those… wild children, they must never show their faces. It would disgrace the family.” My brother, Lord Arthur, also stood protectively in front of the adopted daughter. “I have only one sister, Lydia.” “Don’t even think about trying to win favor from her.” I looked at them, a flicker of amusement in my eyes. “Crude country husband?” Were they referring to my husband, Chancellor Marcus Ashworth, a man second only to the King himself? And “wild children”? Were they speaking of my daughter, Queen Amara? Or my eldest son, General Kael Ashworth, Hero of the Realm? Perhaps my youngest, the newly crowned King’s Scholar, Elias Ashworth? 1 The day the Blackwood Manor steward brought me back, I finally met my biological father, Duke Alistair Blackwood. He sat at the head of the table, a teacup in hand, his gaze sweeping over me with a critical, almost disdainful air. It was as if he were examining a dusty antique, dug up from some forgotten corner. “Rosalind, you’ve been away for forty years. You must have suffered.” He took a sip of his tea, his tone flat, devoid of any hint of emotion at our long-awaited reunion. “Your mother has gone to the abbey for prayers. She’ll see you later.” I remained silent. He didn’t seem to notice or care, continuing as if I weren’t even there. “Lydia has grown up in this manor. She is now Lady Ashworth, refined and accomplished, the very face of our family. Your return has naturally caused her some anxiety.” He paused, then went on. “For the peace of this house, and for the harmony between you and your sister, she will remain known as the true daughter of Blackwood Manor.” He took another sip. “You, on the other hand, will be registered as an adopted daughter under your mother’s name. It will be enough to acknowledge our connection as father and daughter.” I watched him calmly. At my age, I understood the unspoken words, the dismissal beneath his polite veneer. He was ashamed of me, warning me away, and cementing Lydia’s position. My mother, whom I had yet to meet, had even conveniently arranged to be absent on the day of my return. Clearly, she wasn’t eager to see me either. I shifted my gaze, a faint smile playing on my lips, and nodded. “Alright.” Alistair seemed taken aback by my easy agreement. All the carefully prepared arguments he had ready were caught in his throat. Lord Arthur, my brother, standing beside him, couldn’t contain himself. He took a hasty step forward, pointing an accusing finger at me. “Don’t think your quick agreement means you have good intentions!” he snarled. “I’m warning you, my sister Lydia is a kind and gentle soul. She has prayed and sacrificed countless times over the years, all to find you. You are back now. Do not dare to bully her!” I looked at this blood relation, his eyes brimming with fierce loyalty for his “sister,” while mine were filled with suspicion and hostility. “Oh,” I replied. That single, quiet “oh” seemed to ignite their anger further. Alistair slammed his teacup onto the table with a dull thud, his eyes turning cold. “There is one more thing you must agree to.” He leaned forward, his voice dropping. “That husband of yours… that crude country bumpkin, and those… wild children. You are not to bring them anywhere near this manor.” “Blackwood Manor is a noble family. We will not be disgraced by such common folk.” 2 As he spoke, the disgust in his eyes was almost palpable. I finally met his gaze, my own calm and steady, and spoke slowly. “The Duke is right.” “A country husband is certainly crude, and wild children are rambunctious. They would indeed be out of place here. My apologies for the oversight.” I saw a flicker of contempt in Alistair’s eyes. Lord Arthur, beside him, made no effort to hide his scorn, a mocking smile twisting his lips. In their minds, my ready compliance was undeniable proof: a country bumpkin, desperate to cling to power and wealth, willing to abandon everything for a taste of luxury. They were pleased with my “discretion.” Alistair waved a dismissive hand, as if shooing away a troublesome servant. “Very well. You may go now. The steward will show you to a quiet courtyard. Your mother will come to see you later.” I turned, without a single backward glance. As I stepped out of the study, I immediately bumped into the woman who had lived my life for forty years, Lydia Blackwood. She was resplendent in fine silks and glimmering jewels. She rushed forward, grasping my hands, her eyes wide and red-rimmed with feigned concern. “Sister, please don’t be angry with Father and Arthur. They only wish to protect the family’s reputation. You’ve just returned from the countryside, and there are many customs to learn. I will help you.” She played the part of a loving sister, as if my supposed humiliation pained her more than it did me. I gently withdrew my hands and said nothing. Undeterred, she softly added, “Oh, and Sister, in a few days, it will be Father’s sixtieth birthday. Many distinguished guests from the capital will attend, so we must ensure everything is perfect.” She leaned closer, lowering her voice, but a triumphant glint in her eyes betrayed her. “Don’t worry, Sister, I’ll have a suitable dress prepared for you. Just… perhaps it would be best if you spoke little that day. Just to avoid… embarrassing the family.” I met her gaze, noting the barely concealed smugness, and smiled. Lydia’s hypocrisy was so blatant, only the Blackwood family, blind with self-importance, could fail to see it. 3 When the steward led me to the most secluded courtyard in Blackwood Manor, I barely spared a glance for the overgrown weeds and cobwebs in the corners. It was quiet, and that suited me just fine, as I wouldn’t be staying long anyway. I had just settled down when Lydia arrived, accompanied by two maids. She carried a pile of her old, worn-out clothes and a few tarnished, inexpensive trinkets, presenting them with an air of solicitous kindness. “Sister, you’ve just returned from the countryside. I imagine you’re unaccustomed to the silks and satins of the manor. I’ve chosen these for you; the fabric is softer, so you can ease into them.” Her voice dripped with ill-concealed superiority. “These trinkets aren’t valuable, of course, but they’re perfectly presentable for common outings. Please, don’t feel ashamed to wear them.” She expected to see me overwhelmed with gratitude, or perhaps cringing with shame. Instead, I calmly picked up a garment, shook off the dust, and folded it neatly. “Thank you, Sister.” My indifferent reaction momentarily startled her. Then, any lingering trace of caution vanished, replaced by a knowing condescension. In her eyes, I was merely an unworldly countrywoman, easily swayed by scraps and grateful for any mercy. She smiled, satisfied, believing she had firmly established her dominance. “I’m glad you like them, Sister. I won’t disturb your rest any further.” Lydia had barely left when Lady Blackwood, my biological mother, arrived. She glanced around the dilapidated courtyard, then at me, her expression perfunctory. “You’ve suffered much during your time in the countryside.” Behind her stood two imposing matrons, their gazes assessing me as if I were a piece of merchandise to be valued—cold and detached. “In three days, it will be the Dowager Duchess’s eightieth birthday. Guests from all the prominent families in the capital will be here.” My mother’s voice held no warmth whatsoever. “Your father has decided to introduce you as an adopted daughter at the banquet. This is a great fortune for you. You must learn to appreciate it.” I nodded, again saying nothing. She seemed pleased by my “obedience” and nodded to one of the matrons behind her. The woman immediately stepped forward and tossed a wrapped bundle onto the table. “This is for you. Wear this to the banquet.” She spoke with a condescending air of command, not a suggestion. The bundle contained a dress. It was an old-fashioned, dull rust-red, at least a decade out of style. The fabric was coarse, the kind even the lowest servants in the manor might disdain. “As a daughter of Blackwood Manor, even an adopted one, your every word and action reflects on our family’s reputation,” she continued, her voice sharp. “And that wretched thing on your wrist? Take it off before the banquet. It’s not fit for display.” She cast a disgusted glance at my jade bangle. “There will be many eyes and ears that day. You would do well to be modest, speak little, and avoid making a fool of yourself and embarrassing the entire manor.” With that, she turned and left, as if another moment in my presence would soil her shoes. I looked at the bangle on my wrist. It was a flawless emerald-green jade, exquisitely crafted and shimmering with life. Blackwood Manor, in their arrogance, assumed it was a cheap trinket from the countryside. They had no idea that this single bangle could buy their entire estate ten times over. I casually tossed the offensive dress back onto the table, a private, knowing smile playing on my lips. The Dowager Duchess’s birthday banquet? It was high time my three children came to liven things up. 4 Blackwood Manor was a whirlwind of activity, frantically preparing for the Dowager Duchess’s birthday banquet. My courtyard, the Sunset Garden, remained an oasis of calm; no one remembered there was anyone living there. I reveled in the peace, then sought out a young, unfamiliar stable boy who had helped carry my luggage. I slipped him a heavy silver coin. His eyes widened, and he stammered, asking what my command was. “Deliver a letter for me.” Back in my room, I unfolded a rough piece of parchment on the dusty table and picked up a brush. I wrote only four words: “All well, do not worry.” No signature, no return address. I folded the letter, slipped it into the plainest envelope I could find, and handed it to the stable boy. I simply told him to take it to “The Lucky Coin” general store in the South Quarter and give it to the shopkeeper. The stable boy, clutching the silver and the letter, departed whistling happily. With that done, I had nothing left to do. I pulled a chair into the courtyard and watched the tenacious wild grass growing in the cracks of the wall, unattended but thriving. I found it quite interesting. Occasionally, Lydia would “kindly” pass by my courtyard gate, casting a pitying, triumphant glance my way before shaking her head and sighing as she walked off. She likely imagined I was mesmerized by the manor’s wealth, yet tormented by my inability to fit in, left to languish in this dilapidated garden, consumed by self-pity. In her eyes, I was a pathetic, tragic figure. But she didn’t understand. I wasn’t pitying myself. I was simply waiting. The letter was sent. The people I was waiting for would arrive soon. That night, I dreamt. I was back in our little cottage in the village. My husband sat by the lamp, reading. My eldest daughter massaged my shoulders. My eldest son polished his long rifle in the yard. Even my youngest, usually so restless, helped me sort medicinal herbs. A family, content and together. I jolted awake, the moonlight cold through the window. A sudden wave of longing washed over me. I missed them. I wondered if they had received my letter. 5 Soon, the day of the banquet arrived. I was seated in the most inconspicuous corner, at a table with only a dish of stale peanuts and a pot of lukewarm tea. Lydia, shimmering in an extravagant cloud-brocade gown, flitted through the crowd, basking in admiration and flattery. Her laughter was light and melodious, her every glance perfectly calibrated for grace and nobility. After several rounds of wine, Duke Alistair Blackwood rose, cup in hand, his face flushed with good cheer. He cleared his throat, and the hall fell silent. He began with polite platitudes, thanking everyone for attending. Then, his gaze casually drifted to my corner. “There is one more matter I wish to announce today,” he declared, his voice booming, carrying an air of charitable condescension. “This is Rosalind, an… adopted daughter of Blackwood Manor.” The word “adopted” caused a ripple of murmuring throughout the hall. I heard the noblewomen at the next table whispering. “An adopted daughter, you say? I knew it! The true daughter of Blackwood Manor wouldn’t dress like a common countrywoman!” “Shh, lower your voice. She’s still recognized by the Duke. We must show some respect to the family.” Lydia stood beside Lady Blackwood, a barely perceptible smirk playing on her lips, her eyes filled with silent mockery directed at me. I calmly took a sip of my bitter, cleansing tea. Alistair seemed displeased by my composure. He frowned, then dismissed me from his thoughts, turning to introduce Lydia with words brimming with pride and affection. Soon, it was time for the guests to present their gifts to the Dowager Duchess. Lydia, as the Blackwood family’s most cherished jewel, was naturally the first. She held a delicate silk box, her steps graceful, poised to accept the admiration of the crowd… Just then, a clear, ringing voice announced: “Her Imperial Majesty, Queen Amara, arrives!” Everyone gasped. In an instant, led by Duke Alistair, the entire assembly of nobles and dignitaries dropped to their knees, their voices echoing, “Hail, Your Majesty the Queen! Long live the Queen!” I did not kneel. Firstly, the small table in front of me offered no room. Secondly, I saw no reason to. In the deathly silence that followed, Queen Amara, radiant in her royal regalia, entered, surrounded by palace guards. Her gaze was fixed forward. She did not look at Duke Alistair or Lydia, who knelt closest to the entrance. Instead, she walked directly through the sea of bowed heads, straight to my humble corner. She stopped three paces before me. Then, to the disbelief of every person in the hall, she performed a deep, formal curtsy, a gesture of profound respect. “Your daughter greets you, Mother.” 6 The hall was utterly, completely silent. Alistair’s face, flushed with pride moments before, turned bone-white. His lips trembled, unable to form a single word. Beside him, Lydia’s face was ashen, her eyes wide with absolute disbelief. Queen Amara paid them no mind. She stepped forward, affectionately taking my hand. She leaned in, her voice a low murmur meant only for my ears. “Mother, you have been wronged.” Throughout it all, she never once glanced at Duke Alistair or Lydia, who were still kneeling on the floor. I patted her hand, a silent assurance that I was fine. Only then did she turn to the assembly, her voice cool and clear. “You may all rise.” As if granted a reprieve from death, everyone shakily rose to their feet. But no one dared to sit again, standing with bowed heads, too terrified to even breathe loudly. A chief palace attendant stepped forward, holding a large, golden-yellow silk cloth covering a magnificent rosewood tray. Queen Amara herself unveiled it. A collective gasp swept through the guests. On the tray, stood a coral tree, nearly three feet tall, a vibrant, luminous blood-red. Dangling from its branches were twelve East Sea pearls, each the size of a pigeon’s egg. Its value alone could likely purchase half of Blackwood Manor. Everyone assumed it was a birthday gift for the Dowager Duchess. Alistair took a half-step forward, about to voice his gratitude. But Queen Amara didn’t spare him a glance. She personally took the coral tree and presented it to me. “Mother,” she said, her smile as gentle and respectful as it was when we were alone in our home. “This is a birthday gift from His Majesty and myself, for you. I know you dislike extravagance, but this symbolizes long life and enduring fortune. I pray you will not scorn it.” Another wave of stunned silence. A birthday gift… for me? If so, what was this lavish banquet the Blackwood family had so grandly organized for the Dowager Duchess? But an even more crushing blow was yet to come. Queen Amara turned slightly, addressing the direction where the Dowager Duchess sat, her voice clear and resonant. “And, in passing, a birthday blessing for my grandmother.”

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The lab exploded. My wife spent the night giving blood to one of her male students. And I filed for divorce. Everyone who knew us knew that my wife, Dr. Elena Hayes, loved me more than life itself. The director of the Institute and her colleagues all came to talk me down. “Steve, it was just a blood donation. She was saving a life. That’s a good thing. You’re going to throw your marriage away over that?” “You two have such a strong bond. A divorce? It’ll kill her!” And they were right. Elena loved me enough to die for me. When that lab exploded years ago, she was the one who shielded me with her own body. I walked away without a scratch. She suffered a severe concussion and almost didn’t wake up. But all I said, my voice flat and cold, was, “We either go to the courthouse, or we let the lawyers handle it.” 01 My words struck Elena like a physical blow. Her face, already pale from the blood donation, turned a ghostly white. Still, she forced herself to stand, reaching for my hand. “Steve, please, try to understand. Leo just got out of critical condition. I couldn’t just stand by and let him die.” She moved closer, and the sterile, antiseptic smell clinging to her made my stomach turn. I shoved her away. “Don’t touch me.” She stumbled backward, catching her heel and falling to the floor with a muffled cry of pain. I watched, unmoved, as she lay there, a sheen of sweat on her forehead from the pain. But she didn’t blame me. She just looked up at me, her voice deliberately soft. “Steve, I gave four hundred milliliters. I’m so dizzy… I need some soup or something to get my strength back, or I’m going to faint.” I recognized the look in her eyes. It was her way of surrendering. In the past, no matter how vicious our fights, the moment she changed the subject and softened her tone, I would always calm down. This time, it only fueled my rage. I towered over her, my voice like ice. “Either you sign the divorce papers now, or you can die right here in front of me.” With that, I stepped around her and headed for the bedroom. She lunged, grabbing the cuff of my pants, her voice a desperate plea. “A divorce? Just because I gave blood to a student? I swear to you, Steve, there is nothing going on between us.” Her eyes were wide with confusion, as if she genuinely couldn’t comprehend what she had done wrong. “Aside from our work at the Institute, we’ve never even spoken a word in private.” I tried to pull away, but her grip was like iron. Just then, the doorbell rang. I took a deep breath, trying to shove down the frustration, and went to open it. The Institute’s director and two of Elena’s colleagues stood on the doorstep, holding a fruit basket and a certificate of commendation. They were here to celebrate her good deed. “Is Dr. Hayes in? We just wanted to stop by and see how she’s doing.” Her assistant smiled, holding out the certificate, but his gaze drifted past me and landed on the figure on the floor. His expression changed in an instant. “Dr. Hayes! Why are you on the floor?” He rushed past me to help her, carefully taking her arm. Seeing her disheveled state, he turned on me, his voice sharp with anger. “Mr. Hayes, what is wrong with you? Dr. Hayes is weak from giving blood. Why didn’t you help her up?” I let out a cold laugh, leaning against the doorframe. “Help her? Why would I help a cheating woman?” The assistant’s face flushed with rage. “How dare you!” he sputtered. “Leo was injured conducting an experiment for the team! He’s still in a coma! Dr. Hayes was the only one with his rare blood type. Was she supposed to just let a student die? The entire Institute can vouch for them—their relationship is purely professional!” The director frowned, his disapproval of me obvious. “Mr. Hayes, couples should talk through their problems, not throw around baseless accusations. Dr. Hayes’s actions are a model for the entire Institute. This kind of behavior is… unseemly.” They were all protecting her. I was shaking with a rage so profound it felt like it would tear me apart. “I don’t give a damn about what’s ‘unseemly’! I want a divorce!” I yelled. “And if she won’t sign, I’ll go to the Institute every single day and make a scene until she can’t stand it anymore!” The director and his colleagues exchanged uneasy glances, whispering among themselves. “Do you think the explosion all those years ago… did something to his mind? He’s become so unhinged, like a madman…” My body went rigid. The memories I had fought so hard to bury came rushing back. The blinding flash, the searing heat, and Elena, holding me, shielding me. Elena’s voice, laced with concern, cut through the haze. “Steve, it’s over. Don’t think about it. I’ll always protect you.” “Shut up!” I snapped. I strode over to her and, ignoring her shocked gasp, ripped the wedding ring from her finger. The director could no longer contain himself. He grabbed my arm, pulling me back. “Steve Hayes, you’ve gone too far! Dr. Hayes saved your life! Not only are you ungrateful, but you’re repaying her kindness with this cruelty? Take our advice. Drop this talk of divorce. Now.” 02 Seeing that my expression remained a cold mask, the director’s patience finally wore thin. “Mr. Hayes,” he said, his tone scolding, “you have no evidence. What right do you have to suspect an affair?” The others chimed in, their voices a chorus of condemnation. But then, Elena raised a hand, cutting them off. “That’s enough. This is my family’s business. It’s not your place to interfere.” They all stared, stunned. They couldn’t believe she was still defending me. Her assistant stomped his foot in frustration. “Dr. Hayes, what are you doing? He’s the one being unreasonable! We’re on your side!” “I said, leave.” Elena’s gaze swept over them, her voice now hard and unyielding. “He is my husband. No one else gets a say.” There was nothing more they could do. Fuming, they left. Elena let out a sigh of relief and turned to me, her voice soft again. “Steve, I know I was wrong. I shouldn’t have given blood to Leo without talking to you first. I promise, I’ll never speak to him again. As long as you don’t divorce me, you can punish me however you want. Hit me, scream at me, I’ll take it.” I turned away, deliberately avoiding her eyes. “Do you remember my first year at the lab? Leo spilled diluted acid on my hand during an experiment. You were so worried. You said you’d never let him near me again.” I paused. “Now you’re saving his life. Tell me, shouldn’t I want a divorce?” The color drained from her face. Her eyes darted around the room as she stammered, “I… I remember now. But it was an emergency, I forgot. I promise, Steve, I will keep my distance from him.” Just then, my phone rang. “Hello? I’ll be right down.” Downstairs, my friend was waiting in his car. He handed me a package from the passenger seat. I took it, and tears immediately welled in my eyes. A few minutes later, after I’d wiped my face, I saw the director’s car pull back up. The door flew open, and the assistant grabbed my arm, his voice frantic. “Mr. Hayes, come with us! Quickly! Dr. Hayes collapsed from blood loss!” When I didn’t move, his panic turned to anger. “You left the door open when you left! A neighbor saw her on the floor and called an ambulance! She’s in the emergency room right now! You have to go see her!” The director stepped forward, his tone pleading. “Steve, please. She just gave blood. Her body is weak. This could be serious.” A cold smile touched my lips. “If I go to the hospital, the only thing I’ll be talking about is the divorce. Aren’t you afraid I’ll just push her over the edge?” The director was speechless with rage, pointing a trembling finger at me. He gave the assistant a look, and together, they practically dragged me into the car. We had just reached her hospital room when a nurse came rushing out. “Who is Steve Hayes? The patient in the next room, Mr. White, is awake and is demanding to see an Steve Hayes.” The assistant pointed at me, and the nurse grabbed my arm, pulling me into the room. Leo White sat up in bed, his face pale, an IV line in his arm. The moment he saw me, his expression grew urgent. 03 “Steve,” Leo said, his voice earnest and desperate. “I woke up and my classmates told me what happened. That you and Dr. Hayes are fighting because of me.” He looked me straight in the eye. “I swear on my life, there is nothing between me and Dr. Hayes but a professional, student-teacher relationship. I have never had a single improper thought about her!” He glanced down at the burn scars on his arms and gave a bitter smile. “But you don’t have to worry anymore, Steve. My parents heard about my accident. They don’t want me in research anymore. They’re flying in from overseas the day after tomorrow to take me abroad to study something else.” I opened my mouth, but swallowed the words that were about to come out. The director and the assistant, who had followed me in, looked immensely relieved. They had expected a shouting match and had come to intervene. They never imagined it would be resolved so peacefully. The director shot me a disapproving look. “Well, Mr. Hayes. You got what you wanted. Can we assume this nonsense is over now?” The assistant added quickly, “That was all you were worried about, right? It’s settled. So you can stop this talk about divorce.” Just as he finished speaking, Elena, ignoring a nurse’s protests, burst into the room. Her face lit up when she saw me. “Steve! I heard you came to see me.” Seeing the joy on her face, I shattered her hope without a second thought. “See you?” I scoffed. “I came to get my divorce.” Her smile froze, and her face went chalk-white. The assistant, his own face turning purple with rage, steadied her and yelled at me, “I can’t take this anymore! How far are you going to push this?!” The director stood by, watching Elena, waiting for her to finally snap. After all this, even he, a stranger, was at his limit. Surely she would be furious. But her reaction shocked everyone. Elena pushed the assistant away and staggered forward, her voice raw. “Steve, as long as you don’t divorce me, I’ll do anything you ask!” The room fell silent. Ignoring the stares, she tried to find common ground, her voice gentle. “Steve, what’s that you’re holding?” I laughed, a harsh, broken sound. Then I turned and ran. I ran for the stairwell, for the roof. Standing on the edge of the twenty-story building, I looked down at Elena as she followed, her face a mask of terror. My heart hardened. I screamed, my voice tearing from my throat, “Elena, if you don’t agree to this divorce, I’ll jump from here right now!” 04 The director gave me a look of utter disgust and turned to his assistant. “Call the police! Tell them we have a lunatic threatening to jump. And call his family. Get them here. Now.” He sighed, looking at Elena, who was on her knees, begging me to come down. “What has happened to them? It’s like they’re two different people.” Minutes later, the police, my parents, and my mother-in-law arrived. The moment my mother saw me on the ledge, her legs gave out, and she collapsed. “Steve! Get down from there! Whatever it is, you can tell me! Don’t do something you’ll regret!” she sobbed. “Is it something with Elena? We can fix it!” My mother-in-law shoved Elena forward, her voice trembling with panic. “You must have done something to hurt him! Apologize! Don’t let him do this!” I stared at their frantic faces, and two weeks of pent-up misery threatened to overflow. I opened my mouth to speak. But the assistant cut in, his voice cold. “Ma’am, I know it’s not my place, but I can’t stand by and watch him torture Dr. Hayes like this.” He recounted the events of the past few days, word for word, without exaggeration. My parents’ faces darkened. My mother-in-law’s expression hardened into a furious mask. “Steve! How far are you going to take this?!” she yelled at me. “There is nothing going on between Elena and that student! I would stake my life on it!” I clenched my fists. “I’ll take it all the way to a divorce!” My mother, helped to her feet, screamed at me, her voice shaking. “You get down here right now! You’ve had it too good for too long! How has Elena ever wronged you? She saved your life, you ungrateful brat! You would be dead if not for her!” Elena, pale and tearful, cried out, “Steve, if you’re worried about me working with other men, I’ll quit my job tomorrow! I’ll stay home with you every day. I’ll never speak to another man again!” She was already reaching for her phone to type her resignation. Suddenly, my mother-in-law lunged through the crowd like a madwoman, rushing towards me. Before I could react, she slapped me hard across the face. I teetered on the edge, almost falling. She pointed a finger in my face, her voice a sharp shriek. “My daughter worked her entire life to get to where she is! Who are you to destroy her career?! She saved your life, and this is how you repay her? You’re a monster!” I wiped a smear of blood from my lip and looked at my mother-in-law, shielding Elena behind her. And I started to laugh. “Saved me?” I turned and screamed at Elena, a raw, hysterical sound. “Why didn’t you die in that explosion! You liar!” My mother rushed forward to grab me, but I threw her off. “Steve Hayes!” she shrieked, trembling with fury. “Don’t push your luck! Get down here before this gets completely out of hand!” I saw the police officers moving closer and suddenly felt a strange calm wash over me. “But I want it to get out of hand.” My mother-in-law clutched her chest and stumbled towards the police, sobbing. “Officer! He’s insane! He’s mentally ill! Take him to a psychiatric hospital! Don’t let him hurt my daughter anymore!” An officer, having been briefed on the situation, gently supported her, looking at me with confusion. “Mr. Hayes, if you want a divorce, we can help mediate. But you can’t use your own life as a bargaining chip. Please, come down. We’re here to help.” At the officer’s words, my mother-in-law’s voice rose to a scream. “I don’t agree to a divorce! A divorce would be an admission that my daughter did have an affair! He needs to make a public apology and clear my daughter’s name!” The assistant added with a sneer, “Exactly. He can’t just cause all this chaos and then walk away with a divorce. It’s not that simple.” Seeing my mother-in-law’s unyielding stance, I calmly held out the package I’d been clutching. She took it hesitantly. She glanced at it for only a second, and the color drained from her face. Her lips trembled. “Fine,” she choked out. “This divorce is happening. Now!”

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