Author: Momo Chan

To murder my husband Ethan, I spent a full year preparing. I smiled as I sent my husband off on his mountain expedition. I had secretly swapped his GPS for a model that would never send out a signal, ensuring he’d disappear forever in the remote mountain region. I calmly calculated the time it would take for him to get lost, succumb to hypothermia, and finally die of exhaustion. The plan was perfect. I had even prepared the eulogy for his funeral. Ten days later, the rescue team called with news cold and piercing: “Miss Bailey, we found your husband. But there’s another body with him.” 0 The phone rang while I was pruning a dying pothos plant. It was Ethan’s favorite plant. He said green represented vitality and would bring good fortune to his career. What he didn’t know was that I watered its roots with boiling water every single day. I watched it wither day by day, just like watching Ethan’s life slowly drain away in those snowy mountains. The caller ID showed an unknown number from the province where Ethan had gone climbing. Here it comes. My heart pounded wildly—not from fear, but from a long-suppressed joy about to burst forth. I took a deep breath, letting my voice take on just the right amount of hoarseness and trembling, like the result of countless nights crying myself to sleep. “Hello?” The voice on the other end was steady and cold, with official detachment. “Is this Victoria Bailey? We’re from the mountain rescue team.” I covered my mouth, squeezing out broken sobs, perfectly mimicking a wife anxiously awaiting news of her husband. “Yes… yes, it’s me! Is there… is there news about my husband Ethan?” The person on the other end fell silent for a moment, as if choosing their words carefully. “Yes, Miss Bailey. We found your husband.” Found him. Those three words were like a key, instantly unlocking the cellar in my heart. Countless fireworks exploded in my mind, each one blooming with the word “freedom.” I almost laughed out loud, quickly covering it with more violent sobbing. “Is he… is he okay?” I asked knowingly, savoring this final, cruel game. The other end fell silent again, this time for longer. “Miss Bailey, please accept our condolences. Mr. Ethan Cross is no longer showing vital signs.” My body went limp, and I slid down onto the carpet as if on cue, the phone falling from my hand with a dull thud. I let out a heart-wrenching wail into the empty air. You have to play the part completely. The neighbor next door must have already heard my continuous crying these past few days. Now, this wail was the climax of this grand performance. I picked up the phone, continuing my performance with a voice hoarse from crying: “How could this… how could this happen… he said this route was safe…” “Miss Bailey.” The voice interrupted my performance, now carrying an unusual tone. “The situation at the scene is… complicated.” “There’s another body with him.” My heart sank abruptly. All the blood in my body seemed to freeze in an instant. Another body? That bitch! Ethan must have taken his mistress along for his pleasure trip! A sick sense of satisfaction surged through me, mixed with the humiliation of betrayal and the thrill of revenge. Good riddance! Serves them right! A pair of cheating scum should be buried together in the ice and snow, dying miserably! I suppressed my rising smile, asking with a trembling voice mixed with the humiliation and pain of a “victimized wife”: “Is it… is it a woman?” The man on the phone—who I later learned was a detective—fell silent once again. This time, his voice was colder than a Siberian blizzard. “It’s a male.” My brain went blank, every pore on my body standing on end from this sudden fear. Not a mistress? A man? Who could it be? In my plan, there had never been a second man. My plan—from surveying the route, calculating the weather, researching Ethan’s physical limits, to swapping the GPS—every single step had been rehearsed thousands of times. It should have been perfect. It should have gone smoothly. This extra man was like a bomb appearing out of nowhere, capable of destroying my entire world. Who was he? A friend Ethan had arranged to meet? Impossible. Ethan was arrogant and selfish, never traveling with others. He enjoyed the thrill of solo conquest. A random hiker who encountered trouble? Then why would he die together with Ethan? Or… did he know about my plan? This thought made my entire body go cold, my teeth chattering uncontrollably. My brain raced through the storm of fear. Countless possibilities flashed before my eyes, each one pointing to a fatal flaw in my plan that I couldn’t have anticipated. Struggling to maintain my composure, I asked with a trembling voice: “Who is he? How could he… how could he be with my husband?” The detective’s voice was emotionless: “Identity currently unknown, needs family identification. Also, Miss Bailey, you should come here as soon as possible. The situation is very… particular.” He emphasized the word “particular” heavily. After hanging up, I rushed to the bathroom, staring at my pale face in the mirror. On that face, the carefully constructed facade of grief I’d maintained for ten days showed its first hairline cracks. Fear climbed up from the depths of my heart like vines, wrapping tightly around my throat. I turned on the faucet, splashing ice-cold water on my face over and over, trying to calm myself down. Victoria, stay calm. You’ve planned this for a year. You can’t lose your composure now. No matter who that man is, he’s already dead. Dead men don’t talk. As long as you don’t say anything, no one will know about the GPS. Ethan’s death will only be an unfortunate climbing accident. Right, an accident. I repeated these two words to myself in the mirror until the fear on my face was replaced by numbness. I changed into black clothes, didn’t put on makeup, letting exhaustion and pallor become my best disguise. Before leaving, I took one last look at the pothos I’d personally killed. Its leaves had completely yellowed, lifeless. Perfect. It no longer had to pretend to be thriving. Just like me. 0

By the time I reached the city where the rescue team was located, it was already the next afternoon. The air was filled with a strange mixture of disinfectant and death. A detective was waiting for me at the entrance. He was a man in his forties, tall and muscular, with dark skin and eyes sharp as a hawk’s, as if they could see through to the darkest corners of one’s soul. He didn’t waste time on pleasantries, just looked me up and down before leading me toward the morgue. “Miss Bailey, our condolences.” He spoke, his voice even colder and harder than on the phone. “The scene inside may be disturbing. Please prepare yourself mentally.” I nodded. The morgue lights were a harsh, sterile white, with cold air invading from all directions, drilling into my bones. Two gurneys covered with white sheets stood side by side in the center. My heart began to pound uncontrollably. The detective walked to one of the beds, looking at me expressionlessly. I took a deep breath and walked forward. The moment the white sheet was pulled back, Ethan’s face—frozen blue-purple, expression grotesquely contorted—appeared before my eyes. His eyes were still open, filled with terror and unwillingness, as if he’d seen something extremely horrifying before death. My stomach churned violently, intense nausea surging up my throat. Not from grief, but from physiological revulsion. This face had appeared in countless nightmares. He would smile, saying the most venomous things in the gentlest tone. “Vicky, the fish you made today is too salty. You’re so stupid.” Then he’d pour scalding fish soup on the back of my hand. “Vicky, look at you, you can’t even mop the floor properly. What’s the point of marrying you?” Then he’d kick me in the stomach. “Vicky, are you thinking about that poor boy again? You’re nothing but a whore!” Then he’d burn shameful marks into my wrist with his cigarette. Now he was finally dead. Dead miserably, face unrecognizable. I should be happy. I had to appear devastated. I collapsed onto his body, letting out a piercing wail, my body trembling violently, retching continuously. The tears were real. They were tears of relief, five years of suppression finally released. The detective didn’t comfort me. He just stood there coldly, waiting for my emotions to settle slightly before pulling me away from Ethan’s corpse. Then he walked toward the other bed. “Miss Bailey, I need you to identify this person as well.” My heart leapt to my throat. The white sheet was pulled back, revealing a completely unfamiliar face. It was a man in his thirties, gaunt features, regular appearance, but his complexion equally blue-purple. Strangely, the corners of his mouth seemed to show relief, or perhaps satisfaction. I searched rapidly through my memory. This face—I was certain I’d never seen it before. I shook my head, my voice trembling with genuine fear: “No… I don’t know him. I’ve never seen him before.” This time the fear was from the heart. A strange man who died with a smile, alongside a husband with a grotesque expression. The image was too bizarre, like the opening of a horror film. The detective didn’t seem surprised by my reaction. He just nodded and signaled the medical examiner to cover the body again. He led me out of the morgue to an office. He poured me a cup of hot water, then retrieved a transparent evidence bag from a locked cabinet and pushed it in front of me. Inside the evidence bag lay something black that I knew all too well. The GPS model I’d swapped out—the one that could never send a distress signal. My heart skipped a beat, blood rushing to my head. My fingers tightened around the cup, but even the scalding water couldn’t dispel the ice in my palms. But on the surface, I remained composed, looking at him with confusion: “What is this?” “Ethan’s personal effects.” The detective stared directly into my eyes, each word like a nail hammering into my heart. “A GPS model, incapable of sending any signal. Miss Bailey, do you understand what this means?” I played the part of a wife innocent and ignorant about climbing equipment. “I don’t know… he really liked buying these outdoor things. We have a lot at home. I don’t understand them.” My voice sounded innocent and bewildered. The detective suddenly gave a cold laugh, that laugh filled with undisguised mockery. He pulled a second identical evidence bag from the cabinet and placed it heavily beside the first one. “Is that so? Because coincidentally, we found an identical one on the other deceased.” I felt the entire world spinning and collapsing before my eyes. Two identical GPS models. Two identical “murder weapons.” My “patent,” my supposedly perfect method of murder, had been copied. In an instant, I went from being a mastermind in control to someone trapped in a maze, unable to explain any of this. This was no longer a flawless murder. It was a bizarre mystery case that I couldn’t explain at all, one that sent chills to the bone. My hands and feet went ice-cold, my brain blank. The psychological defense I’d carefully constructed completely crumbled the moment I saw that second GPS model. 0

The interrogation room’s lights were harsh and glaring, stretching my shadow long, like a silent criminal. The detective sat across from me. He didn’t pound the table or shout. He just looked at me calmly with those sharp eyes. But every question he asked was like a precise scalpel, peeling away my disguise layer by layer, reaching my deepest secrets. “Miss Bailey, you used to enjoy climbing too, didn’t you?” He asked casually, as if making conversation. But alarm bells rang in my head. I’d never mentioned this to anyone, especially after marrying Ethan. How did he know? I steadied myself and admitted it: “Yes, I did it for a while in college. Later… after marriage, I never touched it again.” I tried to present the image of an ordinary woman bound by domestic life, who’d given up her hobbies. The detective nodded, seemingly accepting my explanation. “So you should be quite familiar with GPS and other outdoor equipment, correct?” Here it comes. His real purpose. My defense sounded weak: “Just superficial knowledge. I haven’t touched it in years. Equipment updates so fast now, I don’t understand it anymore.” I knew my background knowledge had already made me a prime suspect. No matter how much I denied it, in the police’s eyes, I had the expertise to commit a crime using specialized knowledge. The detective didn’t continue pressing on this point. He changed tactics, dropping a second bombshell. “We discovered that last month, you added a five-million-dollar accidental death policy for Mr. Cross. The beneficiary is you.” My heart sank to rock bottom. This insurance policy was the most important part of my plan. It was both my backup and the capital for my new life. But now it had become a blade pointed at my throat. “Yes… it was Ethan’s own request.” I forced myself to stay calm, searching for the most reasonable explanation. “He loved these extreme sports. He said it was for our family’s security.” I pushed the responsibility onto a dead man. Dead men can’t contradict. The detective smiled, that smile meaningful, seeing through everything. “Is that so? But we contacted the insurance company’s agent. He said you were the one who initiated contact, and you handled the entire process. He also mentioned that Mr. Cross himself seemed unaware of the policy’s specific terms.” My whole body went cold, as if all my blood had been drained. I hadn’t expected that bastard Ethan to discuss the insurance with outsiders. Or perhaps this was just the detective’s interrogation tactic, testing me. But I didn’t dare gamble. My silence, in the detective’s eyes, was admission. The worst was yet to come. A young officer walked in and handed a document to the detective. The detective glanced at it, then slammed the document heavily on the table in front of me. “Miss Bailey, our tech department recovered your home computer’s browsing history from the past three months.” My eyes fell on the document, which had printed out keywords I knew all too well and feared most. “Remote mountain climbing routes” “How long does hypothermia take to kill” “GPS signal blocking methods” “How climbing accidents are determined” Each word was like a red-hot chain, binding me tightly to the suspect’s chair. My supposed thoroughness, those traces I’d carefully erased during countless late nights, were nothing but a joke before professional forensic technology. They had become the rope to hang me, tightening ever more. The detective leaned forward, hands folded on the table, eyes sharp as blades. “Massive insurance payout, professional knowledge, motive for murder, and now two unexplainable GPS models. Miss Bailey, is there anything else you’d like to say?” My brain went blank. All my defenses and pretenses seemed so laughable and futile before this ironclad evidence. I was finished. My plan, my freedom, the new life I’d dreamed of—all would turn to nothing in this moment. Despair engulfed me like a tide. I could even feel the icy seawater rising over my head, depriving me of my last breath. 0

The interrogation reached a stalemate. I was like a butterfly caught in a spider’s web. No matter how I struggled, I couldn’t escape those layers upon layers of evidence. I gave up defending myself and chose silence. Because I knew the more I said, the more mistakes I’d make. Just as I was on the verge of despair, ready to accept this absurd fate, someone knocked on the interrogation room door. A young officer hurried in, leaned close to the detective’s ear and whispered something, then handed him a document. The detective took the document and scanned it quickly. His brow furrowed at first, then slowly relaxed, his eyes becoming extremely complex. He looked up at me, his gaze containing scrutiny, confusion, and something barely perceptible. He was silent for a long time, so long I thought time had stopped. Then he slowly spoke, his voice low and clear. “The other deceased’s identity has been confirmed.” My heart jumped violently, and my body involuntarily straightened. “His name was Marcus Reed.” Marcus Reed? I desperately searched this name in my mind but couldn’t find any related memories. A stranger. Completely unfamiliar. The detective seemed to see my confusion. He continued: “He was your husband Ethan’s former business partner.” “Three years ago, their company went bankrupt. Marcus shouldered all the debt. Shortly after, his wife, unable to bear the burden, jumped from a rooftop with their three-year-old daughter.” The detective’s voice was calm, as if recounting a story unrelated to him. But every word was like a boulder, slamming hard into my heart. Family destroyed, lives lost. Ethan again. Another wrong he’d committed. “We found this in Marcus’s clothing.” The detective pushed a photo toward me. In the photo was a letter, somewhat blurred from being soaked in snow melt. The paper was wrinkled and worn, but the handwriting remained clear, every stroke radiating bone-deep hatred. “Ethan, I’ve come for you. You destroyed everything I had. Now it’s my turn.” “Let’s go to hell together.” Signed: Marcus Reed. A suicide note. A declaration from an avenger. I stared at that photo, feeling like I’d been struck by lightning. Pure joy! Indescribable joy instantly swept through my entire body, dispersing all fear and despair. It was revenge! Another person’s revenge! Everything made sense now! The second GPS, the man who died with a smile, all the bizarre details—they all had a perfect explanation in this moment! It wasn’t that my plan had flaws. Another avenger had chosen the same method, the same time, to end the same demon’s life! This could explain the second GPS’s existence, could clear me of all suspicion! I looked up excitedly, my voice trembling slightly with excitement: “Did you see that? This proves everything has nothing to do with me! It was this Marcus… he killed Ethan and then committed suicide! It was him!” The light of hope was right before me. I could already see myself walking out of the police station, breathing free air. “Is that so?” The detective’s icy voice was like a bucket of ice water poured over my head, instantly extinguishing the flame that had just ignited in my heart. He interrupted me, his expression colder than ever before. He slammed another document heavily on the table. It was a printed, yellowed student record. In the upper right corner was a one-inch photo of me from my college days, young and naive. And below, on the roster of members for an outdoor climbing club called “Snow Peak,” next to my name was printed another name—Marcus Reed. I felt struck by thunder, my whole body rigid, unable to move. My brain buzzed. That obscure college club I’d forgotten in the corners of my memory, one I’d only attended a few times, emerged like a ghost that had lain dormant for years, dragging me into an even deeper abyss. I had absolutely no memory of such a person in the club. But there it was in black and white, irrefutable evidence. The detective leaned forward, elbows on the table, those sharp eyes locked onto me like a captured prey. His voice wasn’t loud, but every word was like final judgment, hammering heavily on my heart. “Miss Bailey, same college club, both experts in climbing and outdoor equipment, both harboring deep hatred for Ethan, both using the same obsessive, one-of-a-kind murder method.” He paused, each pause prolonging my suffering and torment. “Do you still dare claim that you and Marcus are just a coincidence?”

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Valentine’s night, I bought a sexy dress, put on exquisite makeup, and went to the bar to meet my husband. But I accidentally overheard his buddies asking him: “Wyatt, we pretend to be you and take turns holding hands and kissing your wife—she really won’t notice?” Wyatt blew out a smoke ring, unconcerned: “She has face blindness. She won’t notice.” “But let’s be clear upfront—play around all you want, but don’t sleep with her. I don’t do secondhand.” For the past three years, the people dating me, holding my hand, and kissing me were never Wyatt. Of course I knew. I also knew that for three years, the man who gripped my waist and tangled with me passionately every night wasn’t Wyatt either. That man was waiting for me at home right now. My phone rang just as Preston carried me out of the bathroom. His sweaty, damp chest pressed against my back as he pinned me against the floor-to-ceiling window, one hand gripping my chin to demand another kiss. Preston’s stamina was astonishing. No matter how many times we’d been together, I still couldn’t quite handle his tireless demands. I used the gap while catching my breath to poke his waist as a reminder: “Phone.” Only then did he pick up his phone and glance at it, cursing under his breath. He quickly flipped the phone face down, then gently lowered his head to kiss my earlobe. “Baby, I need to take this call.” Preston went out to the balcony. I silently threw on a robe and went downstairs, opened the car door, and got in. Through the car’s Bluetooth connected to Wyatt’s phone, his cold voice came through: “Switch with me tomorrow.” Preston laughed carelessly: “What, only three years and you already can’t bear to part with her?” Wyatt paused, apparently downing a drink, his voice somewhat heavy: “Not really. My grandfather’s birthday is tomorrow, I need to bring her. And just reminding you—it’s Lucas’s turn on Friday.” As soon as he finished speaking, a burst of laughter erupted: “Damn, Wyatt, you’re way too generous! You just got married and you’re already lending your wife out to your buddies to play with?” Wyatt blew out a smoke ring, unconcerned: “Blind box game, fair and square. She’s just Gianna—I can afford to lose her.” “But let’s be clear upfront—play around all you want, but don’t sleep with her. I don’t do secondhand.” Someone clicked their tongue. “What’s there to worry about? Who’d even want her?” “Though Gianna does have a nice body. Wyatt sent a photo in the group chat before of her right after her shower—it was pretty hot. None of you five were even a little tempted?” “I was pretty tempted.” Preston’s voice suddenly cut in. Wyatt’s side suddenly went quiet, the atmosphere turning strangely tense, making my spine crawl. “Playing around is fine, but I’m not becoming a homewrecker.” Preston said: “Though sleeping with her would actually work out—isn’t her birthday coming up in a few days? Weren’t you planning to reveal everything then?” The blaring music on the other end drowned out Preston’s voice. But I could still hear Vivian laughing by his ear. Vivian was Wyatt’s first love. I’d followed Wyatt around since childhood, watching him and Vivian go from acquaintances to lovers. But Wyatt’s grandfather, Mr. Anker, didn’t like her, declaring that if Wyatt continued with her, he’d revoke his inheritance rights. Only then did Wyatt agree to the arranged marriage with me. After nursing a crush for eighteen years, I’d finally achieved my dream, only to discover it was nothing but a game for these wealthy young masters. Vivian laughed in agreement: “Right, Wyatt? Her birthday’s in a few days—you guys should give her a big gift and tell her the truth.” “From the day you got married, you’ve all been taking turns playing with her… Now that I think about it, Gianna’s kind of like a bus—anyone can ride.” “Shut up.” Wyatt and Preston’s rebukes came simultaneously, and the other end of the line fell into silence again.

Preston said with a laugh: “She’s Wyatt’s wife after all. Not cool to provoke her like that.” “We won’t touch her. There’s no possibility of that.” Wyatt said something I couldn’t make out clearly—things got chaotic on that end, drowning out his voice. The call lasted fifteen minutes. I turned off the Bluetooth and got out of the car. That sharp pain had long since passed, now hidden beneath a calm surface. Fragmented and scattered, like ants gnawing away. As I headed upstairs, I ran into Preston on his way out. He seemed rushed, his clothes not even properly fastened, his exposed upper body covered in ambiguous scratches. Seeing me, he seemed to breathe a sigh of relief and pulled me into his arms. “Where’d you go, baby? I thought I’d lost you.” “Just went downstairs to throw out some trash.” I looked up, my palm against his cheek, fingertip landing on the mole at the corner of his eye. Wyatt had a mole in the same spot. Preston’s eyes darkened as my finger slid down, his Adam’s apple bobbing. The moment my fingertip touched the corner of his lips, he caught it in his mouth with a gentle bite. Preston had this habit—like a rabid dog, dedicated to leaving every mark of his possession on me. Even though this territory wasn’t his. Preston’s breathing gradually grew heavier, desire pooling in his eyes. He pressed me down onto the bed. I suddenly stopped his hand: “Wyatt, don’t use that. Let’s have a baby.” Preston’s pupils contracted as he stared at me fiercely. Preston was especially rough that night. I discovered Wyatt’s deception a few days before the wedding, when I received an anonymous video. The video was filmed in a private bar room, with Wyatt sitting beside Vivian. She suggested playing a blind box dating game, and a group of them drew lots that landed on me. Besides Wyatt, there were four other players. Preston was one of them. “Boring.” He impatiently kicked over the table and left the room cursing, “If you want to play, play without me.” Vivian laughed it off: “It’s fine, four people can still play. Just be careful. For Wyatt’s sake, don’t get her pregnant.” That was when I learned that the wedding I’d been anticipating for eighteen years was merely the opening signal for a game. My heart ached until I could barely breathe. That person sent me a message: [It’s not too late to cancel the wedding.] I ignored them, sitting in a daze staring at the video all night. In an arranged business marriage, I had no right to cancel the wedding. I still needed the Anker family’s help to establish my foothold in the Harrison family. The wedding proceeded as scheduled the next day. But before the ceremony even ended, Wyatt took a call and left. Preston was the one who came home that night. I have face blindness, but I’m not an idiot. After nursing a crush on Wyatt for eighteen years, how could I not recognize him? In my world, people fell into only three categories: Men, women, and Wyatt. That night, Preston stood with his arms crossed, looking at me mockingly and playfully. I remember he seemed about to say something, but before he could speak, I walked over and kissed him: “Wyatt, I knew you’d come back.” Everything after seemed to fall into place naturally. Four men took turns pretending to be Wyatt. Transferring huge sums to me five times a day, sending the same gifts five times over. We were like an ordinary married couple. Dating, holding hands, hugging, shopping, kissing. But at night, only Wyatt and Preston ever came home. Distinguishing between Wyatt and Preston was too easy. Wyatt wouldn’t touch me. Just one glance at me and he couldn’t hide the disgust in his eyes. Preston, on the other hand, never tired of it. He had all sorts of tricks and boundless energy. He’d patiently accompany me on mountain hikes covering thirty thousand steps, then still have energy to go at it until dawn when we got home. He loved to kiss me everywhere, inside and out, making me call him “husband,” then kissing me until I couldn’t catch my breath. “Baby, I really, really like you.” He’d whisper those words in my ear a million times each night, forcing me to respond. Later it turned into unwillingness. Sometimes I’d drift off to sleep in a daze. In my dreams, someone would trace my features, murmuring: “Why did you marry him when you knew he was deceiving you?” “Why won’t you divorce him? Do you love him that much?” I wanted to ask him too. Why he’d changed his mind and joined this game. I used him as Wyatt’s substitute—what did he use me as? I never asked, and Preston never answered. In my blurred world, there was now one more category: Preston.

Preston left early the next morning. The chaos in the house had been cleaned up spotlessly. Wyatt called me to come downstairs. When I opened the car door, Vivian was sitting next to Wyatt. She smiled at me provocatively: “Sorry, Gianna. I’m also going to visit Grandpa. You don’t mind, do you?” Before I could respond, Wyatt shot me a cold look: “Gianna, don’t make a scene.” I closed my eyes, ignoring Vivian’s provocation. Only after getting in the car did I ask Wyatt, “You didn’t buy me breakfast?” Wyatt froze. I deliberately smiled sweetly: “You forgot—when you woke up this morning, you said you were going to buy me breakfast.” I didn’t know what time Preston had left. But after hearing this, Wyatt’s face darkened. Vivian asked in surprise: “You two… slept together?” Her tone couldn’t hide her smugness. I didn’t answer, but looked at Wyatt with feigned surprise. Wyatt grunted in acknowledgment, his expression grim. He had a cigarette between his lips, about to light it. I poured oil on the fire, continuing: “Didn’t you say last night that you’d already quit smoking? Smoking’s bad for the baby—we’re going to start trying to conceive.” The cigarette fell to the ground. Cold fury surged in Wyatt’s dark eyes, as if ready to devour me. But Vivian laughed meaningfully: “Really? Then I’m very much looking forward to your baby.” I smiled graciously, looking at Wyatt with a blush: “I’m looking forward to it too. To us having a complete family.” Wyatt was visibly irritated. His irritation peaked when Preston appeared. Preston had his hands in his pockets with an expression that showed he was enjoying the drama. With him were several other people I couldn’t distinguish. But judging by Preston’s demeanor, they should be the other three who impersonated Wyatt. “Wyatt, aren’t you going to introduce us?” I held onto his arm, “Are they your friends too?” “Preston.” Before Wyatt could speak, Preston extended his hand to me, “Nice to meet you.” He deliberately emphasized his tone. Sometimes in bed, when Preston played certain games, he’d also deliberately call my name. Hearing him say it now created an indescribable sense of intimacy. Wyatt knocked my hand away and pulled Preston outside. The smugness in Vivian’s eyes grew more obvious. She smiled at me: “Gianna, doesn’t Wyatt have a terrible temper? Only I know him well enough that he treats me better.” “Not that terrible.” I smiled, going along with her words, “He’s been really good to me lately.” Vivian burst out laughing. The others joined in the laughter. I felt very uncomfortable among this group. Just then I received another anonymous message from that person: [Come to the back garden.] I left half-believing, half-doubting. I hadn’t walked far when I heard Wyatt’s interrogation from behind the artificial rock formation: “You touched her? Why is she talking about trying for a baby?” Preston leaned lazily against a tree, hands in his pockets: “What, can’t bear to part with her now?” “She’s my wife!” Wyatt grabbed his collar in frustration. “I didn’t touch her.” Preston impatiently brushed off his hand: “But so what if I did? She won’t figure it out anyway. Even if she does find out, worst case is divorce. If you divorce her, wouldn’t you be free to be with Vivian?” Wyatt hesitated, irritably reaching for a cigarette. But thinking of something, he put it back. “You’re not planning to divorce her anymore?” Preston narrowed his eyes, his voice turning cold, “Not afraid Gianna will get angry when she finds out?” “She won’t,” Wyatt said with certainty, “She loves me very much. She won’t get angry. After her birthday in a few days, when the game ends, I’ll settle down and live properly with her.” “Either way, don’t touch her. If Gianna wants a child, I’ll give her one. Consider it compensation for deceiving her these three years.” “What about Vivian?” Wyatt didn’t answer. I looked down at my phone, at the divorce agreement the lawyer had sent to my email. Before the wedding, I had thought about living a proper life with him. I didn’t even need him to love me—mutual respect would have been enough. From learning the truth until the wedding day, I gave him chance after chance to confess to me voluntarily. But he never did. Three years had passed, whether with Wyatt or with Preston. I was tired of this game too.

After dinner, Wyatt and I went home together. As he leaned over to fasten my seatbelt, his phone lit up. Wyatt just glanced at it before getting out to take the call. I watched Wyatt walk farther away and turned on the car’s Bluetooth. Vivian’s pleading voice came through: “Wyatt, can you come keep me company tonight? You’ve been looking at Gianna all day—I’m getting jealous.” “Don’t talk nonsense.” Wyatt frowned, “I’m married.” “So what? It’s just a game anyway. You’re not really going to tie yourself to her for life, are you?” Vivian dismissed it, continuing to whine: “Just have Preston go to Gianna. She’s face-blind anyway, she can’t tell the difference. Please?” Vivian’s wheedling worked. After hanging up, Wyatt looked down, apparently texting someone. Before long, he glanced back at me once, walked out of my line of sight, and when he returned, he’d become Preston. As soon as Preston got in the car, he cupped the back of my head. He kissed me until I could barely breathe. I gasped and tried to dodge. He came closer again, kissing from the corner of my eye to the corner of my mouth. His hands weren’t behaving either, sliding up under my skirt. “Baby, how about we try it in the car?” The way Preston looked at me was always sticky and intense. I pushed his hand away and turned my head to avoid him: “Don’t touch me.” Preston froze, then sneered: “Used me and now you don’t recognize me.” I ignored him the whole way home. That day onwards, Wyatt didn’t come back for a long time. Preston and the other three took turns impersonating him to keep me company. Dating, watching movies, shopping, giving me gifts. I calmly accepted everything. Everything seemed normal. I squeezed out a day to meet with a lawyer about the divorce. After the lawyer left, I sat there for a long time, my hand resting on my lower abdomen. I didn’t know. Whether my impulsive decision to have this child was the right one. A shadow suddenly fell before me. Before that hand could reach over, I quickly snatched the divorce agreement from the table. “What’s that, being so secretive? Baby, you didn’t sell the company behind my back, did you?” “If you did, that’s fine too. Call me over and I’ll help you count the money.” Preston pulled out a chair and sat beside me, reaching to hold me. I instinctively dodged. His hand froze in midair. He mocked himself, half-serious, half-joking: “Great, looks like I’ve fallen out of favor.” “Others get the seven-year itch, but we’re only at three years and you’re already bored.” “Was that guy just now the new one? Want me to chase him down and call him back?” As he spoke, he started to get up. I quickly grabbed him, glaring: “Be serious.” Preston pressed his advantage, patting his thigh. He was used to fooling around—I was genuinely worried he’d make a scene. I put the divorce agreement back in my bag and reluctantly walked over. Preston looked up, pinching my cheeks as he asked: “Alright, what have you been mad at me about these past few days?” This was different from Wyatt. Whatever happened, Preston always wanted to talk it through with me. But this time, between us. With lies and deception between us, with tangled, indescribable feelings. There was nothing left to say. “Because I brought Vivian to the old house last time?” Preston guessed one reason after another, “Or because I got cake for Vivian that day and ignored you?” I shook my head. Vivian’s voice dropped down at that moment: “Oh my, if it isn’t Gianna, and this is…” I looked up at her voice, just in time to see Wyatt holding hands with her.

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In my past life, Vivian, the girl I had a crush on, was discovered to be seven weeks pregnant during a school medical exam. After the school found out, they immediately informed her parents. The next day, Vivian’s mother stormed onto campus and, in front of all the teachers and students, grabbed Vivian’s arm and tried to force her to marry a sixty-year-old bachelor. I couldn’t bear to see her hurt, so I stepped forward and claimed that the child in Vivian’s belly was mine. Because of this, I became the laughingstock of the entire school and dropped out. Later, Vivian heard that another girl at school had also gotten pregnant before marriage, but she had married Wesley, a rich kid. That very night, while I was sleeping, Vivian stabbed me in the stomach with a knife, her face twisted with rage. “If you hadn’t taken advantage of my situation and married me, you worthless piece of trash, I’d be the one married into wealth right now. Go to hell!” So she thought I had taken advantage of her situation when I married her. When I opened my eyes again, I had been reborn to the day Vivian got pregnant.

“James, something huge just happened at the medical exam station. Vivian from our class is seven weeks pregnant. James, do you know whose child it is?” My roommate John’s fragmented words reached my ears, pulling me back from the terror of death. But I clearly remembered my past life. Because I had admitted to getting Vivian pregnant, I became the object of everyone’s ridicule. My parents were disgraced because of me and attacked by public opinion online. My dad was fired by his construction site boss, and my mom developed late-stage cancer. Not a single relative was willing to lend money to a rapist’s family. My entire family was completely bled dry by Vivian and her family. Thinking of this, I couldn’t help but pull my lips into a mocking smile. I never expected to be reborn. Back to the day my roommate told me about Vivian’s pregnancy. This time, I would never take the blame for Vivian again. I shrugged at John and said, “How would I know whose child it is?” Hearing my words, John put his hand on my shoulder. “James, do you want to come with me to see the drama with Vivian?” As soon as he finished speaking, John suddenly realized something and quickly covered his mouth. “Sorry, James. I forgot you used to like Vivian so much. If you don’t want to go with me, I’ll just go by myself.” Looking at John, I remembered that in my past life when my mom got sick, he was the only one who lent me money and generously told me I could pay him back whenever I wanted. Thinking of this, my eyes instantly welled up with tears. Seeing me cry, John thought I was upset about Vivian and said to me in a panic: “Don’t be sad. That woman Vivian isn’t worth your affection. I really don’t know what to do with you. I’ll treat you to dinner after school today.” Hearing John’s words, I shook my head at him. “John, I’m fine.” “I want to see Vivian too. Don’t worry, I don’t like Vivian anymore.” Hearing that I said I was fine, John finally felt relieved. When we arrived at the infirmary, we heard my former mother-in-law arguing with the teacher inside.

When Vivian saw me arrive, she immediately stood up and said to me: “James, what are you doing here? Are you here to tell everyone that the child in my belly is yours? I won’t be fooled by you again this time. When Wesley’s parents find out I’m pregnant with their grandchild, I’ll be the one marrying into wealth this life!” And my former mother-in-law Ruth looked at me with disgust. “A worthless person like you doesn’t deserve to marry my daughter.” “My daughter is going to be a rich man’s wife in the future. I advise you teachers at this school to start sucking up to my daughter, or after she marries into wealth, she’ll bankrupt this school first!” Hearing Ruth’s words, I understood everything now. So Vivian had been reborn just like me. And she had told her mother that in the past life, my pestering had prevented her from marrying into wealth. This life, I would grant her wish. I knew Vivian was also watching to see if I had been reborn. I couldn’t let her discover anything was wrong, or I would lose my advantage. So I followed the script from my past life, kneeling before her with deep affection and saying: “Vivian, I’m willing to be the father of the child in your belly.” “Can you give me this chance…” Before I could finish, Vivian shook off my hand and said with disgust: “James, give up on that idea!” “This time, I definitely won’t fall for your tricks again!!!” I pretended to be hurt by Vivian’s words, lowered my head, and left the infirmary with my roommate, looking wounded. As soon as we left the infirmary. I couldn’t control the smile spreading across my face. As long as my rebirth wasn’t discovered, Vivian would continue thinking she was destiny’s chosen one. In the following days. I spent all my time in the library, eagerly absorbing university knowledge, often too busy to even stop, just to make up for the regret of not attending university in my past life. With her boyfriend being a rich kid, Vivian had others attend classes for her. Combined with the knowledge from her past life that she’d long forgotten, she probably couldn’t even pass her final exams. The next time I saw Vivian was when she got into rich kid Wesley’s Maybach. I was about to walk out of the school gate. Vivian suddenly called my name from behind. She said to me smugly: “James, do you recognize a Maybach, you poor thing?” “This is a car you could never afford in your lifetime!” “I know you must be really short on money right now. After all, your parents are just old farmers. If you kneel down and lick my shoes right now, I can put in a good word with my boyfriend and have him give you a little money for living expenses.” At this moment, Wesley said with a smile: “James, Vivian already told me everything.” “I never expected that the top student in our class would like my woman so much that he’d even be willing to raise my woman and child. It’s really touching.” “Like Vivian said, if you kneel down and lick my shoes and hers right now, I’ll transfer you a hundred thousand dollars immediately, and you won’t have to worry about next semester’s tuition.” As soon as he finished speaking, the crowd suddenly gasped. “A hundred thousand dollars!” “Just licking shoes gets you a hundred thousand? If it were me, I’d do it. Making money by licking shoes isn’t shameful. At worst, I’d just brush my teeth a few more times afterward.” “Ah, why don’t good opportunities like this ever come to me?” Hearing these words, Wesley rested his chin on his hand and said to me smugly: “James, this is a rare opportunity!” After speaking, Wesley deliberately spat on his own shoe, then looked at me leisurely.

“James, I’m really looking forward to your choice.” “If you’re willing to kneel down and lick the spit off my shoe clean, I’ll double the hundred thousand I just mentioned!” After hearing what Wesley said, I stared at him coldly, forcing words through gritted teeth. “Wesley!” “People like you will die badly! Aren’t you afraid someone will post this online and ruin your reputation?” Hearing my words, Wesley couldn’t help but laugh out loud, then put his arm around Vivian’s waist, got in the car, and drove away. Just then, a girl suddenly handed me a love letter. The girl said to me shyly: “Hello, James.” “This is a love letter I wrote for you.” After saying this, the girl quickly covered her face and ran away. I immediately recognized her as Chloe, one of Vivian’s roommates. Looking at the love letter in my hand, I felt very mixed emotions. In my past life, I never knew Chloe liked me. Perhaps because Vivian and I dropped out together, she never got the chance to say it. In this new life. I decided to let go of the past and accept new things. People can’t always live in the past. So, with two lifetimes of age in my heart, I secretly started dating Chloe. I didn’t hide this from John. When John learned I was in a relationship, he was even happier than I was. John said to me very happily: “James, I never expected you to get together with Chloe, the top student in our class. I never thought I’d live to see two academic achievers dating.” “Let’s see what that woman Vivian has to say now.” “And that Wesley, thinking he can do whatever he wants just because his family has some dirty money. My brother would never covet another man’s woman.” Hearing John’s words, I just slightly pulled at the corner of my mouth. I had always known John was a straightforward person who said whatever was on his mind, but such people often made the best friends. Thinking of my past life, in my most difficult moment when my mom developed late-stage cancer, among all the people I knew, only John was willing to help me. After my mom got sick, not only did Vivian not take care of her, she said to me with disgust: “James, your mom has late-stage cancer. No matter how much money you throw at it, she won’t get better. You might as well use the money on Bobby’s extracurricular classes. Besides, when Bobby grows up and learns about this, he’ll definitely be filial to you.” “Bobby is Wesley’s biological son. I heard that the woman who married Wesley gave birth to three daughters in a row. Wesley only has my son as his child. My Bobby will inherit Wesley’s fortune in the future.” “James, I suggest you give up on your worthless mother as soon as possible, or you’ll end up with nothing—neither saving her nor keeping your money.” Coming back to my senses, I looked at John gratefully and said in a very small voice: “John, thank you for helping me in my past life.”

Just when I thought I would never hear news about Vivian again. Until one day. Wesley suddenly spoke in the class group chat: “I can’t believe we’re graduating so soon. I’m really going to miss you all.” “In three days, I’m planning to host a banquet for my fiancée at the most expensive hotel in the city. You won’t have to pay a cent. Consider it my personal farewell party.” After seeing Wesley’s message, classmates chimed in below. “Wesley is really loaded!” Someone even asked below: “Wesley, my girlfriend wants to hold an engagement party at the SKY Hotel. Could I possibly…” Wesley responded gently below: “Sure.” I just glanced indifferently at the group chat messages and turned to pack my dorm room belongings. The excitement in the group had nothing to do with me. Just then, John said to me very excitedly: “James.” “I heard that people who dine at SKY Hotel are either rich or powerful. I’ve never been inside. James, are you going this time?” Hearing John’s words, I laughed coldly. Go? Of course I would go see. Living a second life, I wanted to see if Vivian could really marry into wealth! Soon it was the day to go to SKY Hotel. Just as I was about to enter the private room, Vivian walked up to me with her five-month-pregnant belly, her nose in the air, speaking with smug satisfaction. “Oh, has our class’s top student found a good job after graduation?” “James, if you’re willing to kneel down and lick my shoes clean right now, I can ask Wesley to set up a separate table just for you.” Vivian’s best friend Lester rolled her eyes and chimed in: “James, don’t be ungrateful. If it weren’t for Vivian being magnanimous and not holding what you did before against you, you wouldn’t even be standing here.” Someone started it, and everyone began to chime in. “That’s right.” “James, Vivian is Wesley’s fiancée, someone you could never aspire to in your lifetime.” Just then, Wesley suddenly appeared, with a quiet and elegant girl following behind him. Everyone instantly fell silent.

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At the company’s annual gala, my wife Mira had already prepared the grand prize for our top salesperson: A villa, a Porsche, and a hundred thousand in cash… I half-joked, “Mira, why don’t you just give him my company while you’re at it?” Mira frowned. “Do you have any idea how much value Marcus has created for you this year?” “You’re the boss—can’t you be a little more generous?” I smiled and said nothing more. Until the day of the gala, during the prize draw game on the big screen, our top salesperson drew Mira herself. Marcus panicked immediately. “Who’s playing such a sick joke, putting the boss’s wife up as my prize?” “Henry, let me explain—someone’s obviously trying to set me up!” I walked forward and patted his shoulder. “This is the gift I specially prepared for you.” The moment my words fell, the entire banquet hall became silent as death. Marcus, our three-year consecutive top salesperson, froze center stage. He stared at me, his whole body trembling uncontrollably. “Henry…” His throat was dry, his vocal cords producing a rusty sound. “Which deal did I mess up? What didn’t I do right?” “Please, just tell me—don’t joke around like this!” “You and Mira are perfect together. I don’t understand this kind of joke!” I raised my hand to straighten his tie, my fingertips brushing past his throat. I could feel his heart pounding wildly beneath. “I’m not joking with you.” “You’ve done excellent work. You’re the best employee I’ve ever had.” My voice wasn’t loud, but I wore a smile. “That’s exactly why I’m rewarding you with Mira.” The next second, the silent air shattered. “Henry!” Mira’s high heels clicked sharply as she cut through the crowd. In her red dress, she blazed like a fierce flame all the way to the stage. “Even jokes have limits!” She pointed at me, her fingertip trembling almost into my pupils. “Apologize to Marcus. Apologize to me. Now!” I lowered my eyes, looking at the emerald bracelet on her wrist—the one I’d won at Sotheby’s last anniversary, named “Forever and Always.” But after seeing the gifts Mira had prepared for our top salesperson yesterday, I knew this relationship had already developed irreparable cracks in places I couldn’t see. “I’m not joking.” I stepped aside, making room to expose Mira completely in the spotlight. “I can afford the villa and the Porsche—why not you?” Gasps echoed through the hall. Some people had already pulled out their phones. “Hasn’t Henry always doted on Mira the most? Why this sudden scene…” “Is Henry really joking, or is he trying to teach Marcus a lesson?” Marcus took half a step back, his eyes full of fear. Mira’s pupils contracted sharply, the red dress making her face appear deathly pale. “Henry, have you lost your mind?” I smiled and said gently: “Don’t worry. After the gala ends, the lawyers will deliver the divorce papers to your office. From today on, you belong to him. The company belongs to me.”

Mira stood in the light, the color draining from her face instantly. When she spoke again, her voice was exceptionally cold. “Henry, are you done with your performance?” She stepped forward, her high heels thumping dully on the carpet. “If you don’t want to give out year-end bonuses, just say so. Using me as your shield, treating the whole company like fools?” The crowd first showed slight confusion, then murmurs of sudden understanding, as if I really was just trying to avoid paying bonuses by deliberately making things difficult for our top salesperson. Buzzing agreement immediately emerged from the crowd: “Yeah, last year Marcus single-handedly achieved over half the department’s performance. Anyone would deserve that award.” “You promised everyone bonuses based on performance, and now you’re backing out?” “Using your wife as a prize—that’s just absurd. Clearly trying to humiliate Marcus…” I swept my gaze across them. My eyes were like the flat of a blade, instantly cutting the murmurs silent. But Marcus suddenly dropped to his knees with a “thud.” “Henry!” His forehead pressed against the floor, a picture of complete pitifulness. “If I messed up any deal or offended any client, just tell me! I’ll accept any punishment, but please don’t… don’t joke about Mira!” “If you don’t want to give bonuses, I can go without—just please don’t make things difficult for me.” “I have two elderly parents to support at home. Henry, I can’t lose this job!” Mira immediately chimed in, her voice rising: “Henry, listen to him. Even your employee understands gratitude better than you. If you’re afraid to pay out, fine—transfer the equity. I, Mira, will pay it. From today on, you don’t deserve to sit in that position.” She turned to face the crowd. “Everyone, whoever wants to work with me, come over here. Year-end bonuses—I’ll double them.” The banquet hall first fell into deathly silence, then the sound of chairs scraping rose in waves. Several young women from the marketing department stood up first. The operations director hesitated for half a second, then kicked his chair back. Even the usually laid-back old security guard sighed, removed his badge, and gently placed it on the table. The crowd slowly gathered behind Mira. I counted. Two-thirds. The remaining third were the old guard from tech and supply chain. I was glad they could stand by my side without hesitation. I lowered my head and smiled. “Mira,” I raised my hand and brushed nonexistent dust off my suit sleeve. “Are you trying to take over my company?” A meaningful cold smile appeared at the corner of Mira’s mouth. “Henry, someone as stingy as you, who doesn’t appreciate employees’ contributions at all—you just want to drain every last drop of value from them.” “You don’t deserve to be the boss.” As soon as Mira finished speaking, scattered applause erupted. “Mira’s right!” I looked coldly at the employees standing behind Mira and said disappointedly, “You really think I’ve treated you badly? Then who gave you those year-end bonuses you’re holding right now?” “So you’re going to bite the hand that feeds you for this woman?”

Marcus’s knees were trembling, but Mira grabbed his wrist firmly. “Stand up.” Her voice wasn’t loud, but it carried a leader’s authority. “From today on, you’re with me. I, Mira, always keep my word. The villa, the Porsche, the bonus—you won’t miss a penny.” Focus returned to Marcus’s pupils. He first stole a glance at me, confirming I wasn’t stopping him, before using Mira’s strength to straighten his spine inch by inch. The moment he stood straight, as if Mira had given him tremendous courage, his voice boomed loud enough to lift the roof: “Everyone, I’ve been with this company for five years. From a street peddler to three-time champion—it wasn’t luck. It was Mira giving me resources, backing me up all the way.” “Today Henry’s using Mira as a prize, making a fool of me. I accept it. But you all saw—even Mira can’t stand watching this.” “Who still wants to follow someone who goes back on his word and uses his own wife as a bargaining chip?” He suddenly raised his hand, pointing at me, his fingertip almost touching my nose. “I, Marcus, am putting it out there—whoever wants to follow Mira, come over now. Bonuses—Mira will sign right here, doubled. Those who don’t want to—stay with Henry and see what he uses you for in next year’s lottery.” The crowd seemed to have a stun grenade thrown into it. The team leader from Sales Division Two smashed his wine glass with a “crack” and was the first to walk over. The finance girl clutched her folders, jogged a few steps, then turned back to bow ninety degrees to me. Even John from supply chain, usually the most silent, sighed and hesitated whether to remove his badge. Mira watched the line rapidly expand, her red lips curving into a curved blade. She raised her hand in a gesture for silence. Applause, footsteps, whispers were instantly cut in two. “Henry…” For the first time, she looked down at me from a superior position, like viewing prey pinned to a cutting board. “See that? Once hearts grow cold, it’s hard to win them back.” I shrugged, too lazy to respond. She took my silence as agreement and pushed further, her high heel clicking onto the stage edge. The light stretched her shadow long, like a spear at my throat. “I’ll give you two choices…” “First—now, immediately, right away—hand over the company seal, legal seal, equity documents, everything. If I’m in a good mood, I might leave you five percent so you can buy a decent tie with your year-end dividend.” “Second…” She paused, smiling victoriously. “Tomorrow I’ll call an emergency shareholders’ meeting and initiate a special resolution to remove you as chairman and general manager.” “Oh, and we’ll sign the divorce agreement too. I’ll note the husband’s major fault. Don’t worry—you won’t get a penny.” “Henry, which one?” Below the stage, her new camp erupted in unified cheering: “Step down! Step down! Step down!” The sound shook the chandeliers. I lowered my head and methodically unfastened my cufflinks. When I looked up again, I raised one finger at her and gently shook it. “Mira, you seem to have gotten something wrong.” I raised my eyes, my gaze sweeping past her, past Marcus, past those faces shouting “step down.” “I built this company from scratch. It’s not me begging anyone to stay—it’s me allowing people to stay and share the pie.” Mira looked displeased. “Henry, you’ve already lost everyone’s support. You still want to act tough?” I didn’t respond, just smiled and pulled out a black USB drive from my pocket. “Everyone, aren’t you curious why I’d give my own wife to an employee?” I waved the USB drive in my hand. “Once you watch this, you’ll understand.”

“Deceiving people!” Mira’s face darkened as she roared at me. “Henry, if you dare show whatever fake content is on that USB today, tomorrow I’ll have my legal team sue you for defamation and slander. Prison food is guaranteed.” The employees behind her nodded in unison. Marcus even stepped forward half a step, his eyes red-rimmed, like a lamb I’d cornered on a cliff. “Everyone, don’t be fooled by his USB drive.” He first bowed to the crowd, then turned and pointed at me: “Three years ago, I accompanied Henry to City A for client negotiations. At eleven at night, he had me deliver an urgent contract to his suite. When the door opened, a woman came out—not Mira. Afraid of being silenced, I bought a ticket and flew back that same night. The next day, he docked my entire year’s commission, saying I ‘mishandled client reception’!” “That’s not all. Last September, I saw him with my own eyes kissing a female influencer in the underground parking garage. Afraid of retaliation, I could only endure it. Today, he can even give away Mira as a prize—what won’t he do?” As his words landed, phone cameras throughout the banquet hall all pointed at me. I lowered my head and smiled, refastening my cufflinks. “Marcus, you’re so good at making up stories, it’s a shame you’re not writing scripts… Too bad it’s all fake.” I raised the USB drive, waving it at the projector port in the front row. “Just three minutes. I guarantee you’ll all look at me differently.” “You wouldn’t dare!” Mira’s high heel clicked once, almost cracking the stage. “Grandpa will be here any minute. If you dare play it, just wait for the legal notices!” “Grandpa?” I raised an eyebrow, feigning confusion. “Didn’t you say he was recuperating abroad and wouldn’t be back until next week at the earliest?” She choked, her face alternating between pale and flushed. I sneered and turned to insert the USB into the port. “Stop!” An aged but vigorous voice rang out. The crowd parted like an invisible cane had pushed them aside, opening a straight path. Mira’s grandfather, Busby—sixty-eight years old, the true anchor of M Group. He leaned on an ebony cane, wearing a suit. I paused my motion and nodded to him respectfully. “Mr. Busby, you’re a bit early. The show’s just reaching its climax.” Mira clutched at this lifeline like a drowning person, rushing up to him, her voice instantly softening to gentle spring water: “Grandpa, why did you come yourself? Your health…” “If I didn’t come, you’d have completely disgraced me!” Busby cut her off coldly, but his gaze passed over her, looking straight at me—or more precisely, at the USB drive in my hand. “Henry,” his voice wasn’t loud, but carried the raspy quality of old-time underworld figures, “give me face. Don’t play it.” I smiled. “I give you face, but have they ever given me face?” “If you play it now, you’ll be making an enemy of the entire M Group.” “If you people were reasonable, I’d naturally treat you with courtesy.” I raised my eyes, my gaze colliding with his across the space. The air solidified to near suffocation. Suddenly, Busby said to me: “Henry, I know what’s on that USB better than you do.” One sentence, and the entire hall erupted. Mira’s head snapped up sharply, her pupils like an earthquake: “Grandpa?” Busby didn’t look at his granddaughter, only stared at me. “Give me ten minutes. I’ll tell everyone the real story. After I finish, if you still want to play it, I’ll press the mouse button for you myself.”

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Just after transferring schools, the popular girl Valerie came crying to the teacher, claiming I was mentally disturbed and had been secretly photographing her in the women’s restroom. When the Dean of Students arrived, she pointed at my backpack and cursed: “Pervert! You were definitely lurking around the bathroom entrance acting suspicious, and your phone must be full of photos!” “I could feel it! Your camera lens was pointed right at me the whole time, it’s disgusting!” The students around me started whispering and pointing. “This kind of creep should be expelled immediately!” “He looks so honest and harmless, but turns out he’s a voyeur!” Facing the collective accusation, I unzipped my backpack and pulled out an old Nokia phone that could only make calls. “Teacher, please tell me—how exactly could I take high-definition photos with a phone that doesn’t even have a camera?” I held up the Nokia that looked like a brick, its screen still showing the Snake game interface. Instant dead silence all around. The Dean of Students pushed up his glasses, the fat on his face quivering slightly, clearly not having expected this outcome. Valerie was the first to react. “You must have another phone!” She pointed at my nose, her voice shrill. “You deliberately pulled that one out to deceive people! I’ve seen plenty of people like you! Acting honest on the surface, disgusting on the inside!” The tall guy beside her, named Garrett, the captain of the school basketball team, stepped forward aggressively. “You hear that? Hand over your other phone! Or don’t blame me for getting rough!” I looked at him calmly, even holding the Nokia closer to his face. “This is my only phone.” “Bullshit!” Garrett slapped my hand away, and the Nokia fell to the ground, but its screen remained stubbornly lit. “Search him! Dean! This scumbag needs to be searched! He must have hidden the phone on his body!” The Dean of Students frowned, clearly feeling the situation was getting out of control, but seeing Valerie crying so pitifully, his balance obviously tipped. “Young man, to prove your innocence, please cooperate.” “Take out everything from your pockets yourself.” The murmuring around grew louder. “Exactly, if you haven’t done anything wrong, what are you afraid of?” “Hurry up, don’t waste everyone’s time.” I ignored those voices, just looking at Valerie. She wiped her tears with the back of her hand while peeking at me through her fingers. In front of everyone, I began emptying my pockets. Left pocket: a set of keys, some loose change. Right pocket: a pack of tissues, half an eraser. I spread my hands open, looking at the Dean of Students. “Teacher, that’s everything.” Valerie’s crying stopped. She looked at me in disbelief. The air fell into awkward silence again. I broke the silence. “Valerie, can you prove my innocence now?” I paused, looking into her eyes, asking word by word. “Shouldn’t you apologize for your false accusation?” Apologize? Those two words were like a spark, instantly igniting Valerie. She looked as if she’d heard the world’s greatest joke, then her face went pale, her body swayed, and she fell backward limply. “Valerie!” Garrett caught her with quick reflexes, shouting in panic. Valerie lay in his arms, eyes tightly closed, brows furrowed in pain, murmuring: “So scary… he’s so scary…” The Dean’s face changed drastically, immediately rushing over. “Quick! Get her to the infirmary!” He directed Garrett, then turned to glare at me. “What’s wrong with you as a student? You made a classmate faint! You have no compassion at all!” He pointed at my nose, his voice full of reproach. “This matter ends here! Don’t bring it up again! You—come to my office this afternoon and write a self-criticism! Reflect on your words and actions!” With that, he hustled away with the “unconscious” Valerie and the furious Garrett. The crowd dispersed, leaving only me standing there. On the ground, the Nokia’s screen was still lit. No apology came, replaced instead by a self-criticism assignment.

First period that afternoon, I sat in the Dean of Students’ office as promised. The Dean sat across from me with his beer belly, leisurely brewing tea. “Do you know why I called you here?” he asked without looking up. “Yes, to write a self-criticism,” I answered. His hand paused mid-lift with the teacup, apparently not expecting such a straightforward response. “Your attitude is acceptable.” He took a sip of tea and set down the cup. “But good attitude alone isn’t enough. You need to deeply recognize your mistakes.” I looked at him and asked seriously, “Dean, what exactly is my mistake?” “You…” He choked on my question, his expression darkening. “You still have the nerve to ask? Valerie had low blood sugar and had to go to the infirmary because of you! As a male student, you argued with a female classmate and pressed her so aggressively—that’s your mistake!” “So,” I stated calmly, “because she’s a girl, because she cried, because she fainted, her false accusation that I’m a voyeur is acceptable. And my request for an apology is my mistake.” “What kind of logic is that!” The Dean slammed the table, splashing tea water. “Sophistry! Valerie was just being sensitive and concerned about school safety! As a new transfer student, instead of thinking about how to get along with classmates, you cause trouble right away! That’s your problem!” I understood now. In this matter, the truth didn’t matter. Who was right or wrong didn’t matter. What mattered was that Valerie was the perfect campus beauty in everyone’s eyes, while I was just an insignificant newcomer. “Self-criticism, one thousand words. You can’t leave until it’s done.” The Dean issued his ultimatum. I said nothing more, picked up the pen, and began writing. An hour later, I handed over the completed self-criticism. The Dean picked it up with satisfaction, but his brow furrowed tighter as he read. “What is this supposed to be?” He slapped the paper on the desk. “‘I shouldn’t have demanded truth in the face of facts, shouldn’t have requested an apology after being slandered, shouldn’t have overestimated a person’s basic decency, and shouldn’t have underestimated a group’s blind conformity. My mistake was thinking this was a place where reason matters.’ Rubio, is this a self-criticism? Who are you mocking!” I looked at him, my tone sincere. “Dean, these are all my honest thoughts. Isn’t that deep enough?” His face flushed red as he pointed at me, unable to speak for a long while. Just then, someone knocked on the office door. My homeroom teacher entered, her expression troubled. “Dean, I need to speak with Rubio about something.” The Dean seized the opportunity like a lifeline, waving impatiently: “Take him! Take him! A student with character problems—you educate him properly!” I followed my homeroom teacher out of the office. In the hallway, she stopped and sighed. “Rubio, I know you feel wronged. But Valerie… her family is an important donor to the school, and Garrett’s father is one of the school board members. You should… just endure it.” She handed me an application form. “This is the school’s financial aid application for students in need. Looking at your records, you’re from a single-parent household and transferred here from a rural area, so you should qualify. Fill this out, and I’ll try my best to help you get it.” After saying this, she patted my shoulder and left. What was this supposed to be? A slap followed by candy? I held that thin application form, feeling like it was all a joke. Back in the classroom, everyone looked at me with strange eyes. On my desk, someone had drawn a turtle in red permanent marker, with two words beside it: Pervert. Garrett sat not far away with several guys, laughing mockingly in my direction without any attempt to hide it. Valerie sat in the front row, surrounded by a group of girls, whispering about something. She seemed to sense my gaze and turned to give me an extremely innocent yet pitying look, silently mouthing two words. “Deserved it.”

Before evening study hall, I went to the cafeteria for dinner. I’d just gotten my food and sat down when someone took the seat across from me. It was Garrett. Several basketball team members followed behind him, forming a semicircle around me. The cafeteria immediately quieted down considerably, with everyone’s attention focused here. “New kid, heard you’re pretty tough, huh?” Garrett slammed his tray down heavily on the table, splattering food everywhere. I didn’t respond, just picked up some vegetables with my fork and ate slowly. My disregard completely enraged him. “I’m talking to you! Are you deaf or mute?” He slapped the table and stood up. “Can I help you?” I finally raised my eyes to look at him. “Can I help you?” He laughed, the laugh full of arrogance. “Of course! You made Valerie suffer so much today, and you got her called in by the teacher. Tell me, how should we settle this account?” I put down my fork, finding it somewhat amusing. “She slandered me, and it somehow became me making her suffer?” “Stop twisting things!” A guy with bleached hair behind Garrett pointed at me and cursed. “If you hadn’t been so aggressive, would Valerie have fainted? You’re a grown man with a heart smaller than a needle point—disgusting!” “Exactly! Pervert! Voyeur!” Echoing voices rose all around. Garrett was satisfied with this effect, looking down at me condescendingly. “I’ll give you two choices.” He held up two fingers. “First, right now, immediately, go apologize to Valerie. Kneel down, beg for her forgiveness.” He paused, his smile turning vicious. “Second, I’ll make it impossible for you to stay at this school. Don’t think I don’t know—you also applied for some bullshit financial aid. Believe me or not, with one word from me, your application becomes waste paper?” This was a threat. A blatant threat. I looked at him and suddenly asked, “What if I choose neither?” “Neither?” Garrett looked like he’d heard the funniest joke. “Then don’t blame us for using our own methods to teach you a lesson.” As soon as he finished speaking, the guys behind him simultaneously closed in on me. Students in the cafeteria let out gasps, but no one stepped forward to stop it. Instead, they all excitedly pulled out their phones to watch the show. I slowly stood up, my body somewhat stiff from sitting. Just when they thought I would submit or panic, I did something no one expected. I picked up my tray and, with an extremely precise angle, firmly planted the remaining half portion of braised eggplant, along with rice and sauce, right on top of Garrett’s head. The sticky sauce ran down his hair, hanging from his eyebrows and nose tip, with several grains of rice stuck to his cheeks. The entire cafeteria fell instantly silent. Everyone was stunned. Garrett froze too, seemingly unable to believe what had happened. One second, two seconds. “Ahh!” He let out a beast-like roar, wiping the grease from his face. “FUCK! You dare touch me!” He swung his fist at my face. The guys behind him also reacted and rushed forward together. I didn’t take it head-on, dodging Garrett’s punch with a sidestep and kicking the chair beside him. The chair toppled over, tripping the two guys coming up behind him. The scene instantly descended into chaos. Though I looked thin, years of helping with farm work at home had given me considerable strength and quick reflexes. But two fists can’t fight four hands. In the chaos, someone kicked me hard in the back, and I fell forward, knocking over a table. The sound of breaking dishes mixed with the dull thuds of fists and feet landing on my body. I tasted blood at the corner of my mouth. I don’t know how long it lasted before the cafeteria security and teachers finally arrived and pulled apart the brawling group. I was helped up from the ground, completely disheveled, with cuts on my face and my uniform torn. Garrett, aside from a few eggplant skins still hanging from his head, had barely any injuries. The Dean of Students arrived to this scene. His face was as black as the bottom of a pot. “Rubio!” He pointed at me, trembling with anger. “You again! Are you trying to turn the school upside down before you’re satisfied! First you made a female classmate faint, now you’re openly brawling in the cafeteria! Our school can’t have students like you!”

I stood once again in the Dean of Students’ office. This time, Garrett stood beside me, along with Valerie, who had rushed over upon hearing the news. Valerie’s eyes were red. The moment she saw the grease on Garrett’s face, tears fell. “Garrett, are you okay? Does it hurt?” She pulled out tissues, carefully wiping his face. “It’s all my fault. If it weren’t for me, you wouldn’t have been… by this kind of person…” She choked up and couldn’t continue, looking heartbroken and guilty. Garrett immediately comforted her: “It’s not your fault, Valerie. I’m useless—I couldn’t properly teach this bastard a lesson for you.” The two of them acted out a drama of deep affection as if no one else was there. The Dean coughed heavily. “Garrett, although the other party struck first, fighting is still wrong. Go back and write a five-hundred-word self-criticism.” He glossed over it lightly. Then he turned to me, his expression instantly becoming extremely stern. “Rubio! You! Repeatedly refusing to reform! Extremely bad in nature! Must be dealt with severely!” I looked at him, my voice somewhat muffled due to my cut lip: “He surrounded and blocked me first with his people, and threatened me.” “I threatened you?” Garrett jumped up immediately. “Bullshit! I just wanted to ‘communicate’ with you, to get you to apologize to Valerie. You’re the one who went crazy and dumped food on my head! Everyone saw it!” “Right, Dean.” Valerie spoke softly and weakly. “I heard that Rubio seems to have a big problem with me. Garrett just wanted to help resolve the conflict. He didn’t expect Rubio to react so violently… Did I do something wrong to make him misunderstand?” She looked at me, her eyes full of “sincere” confusion and grievance. With one sentence, she pushed all the blame onto me. I was making a big deal out of nothing, I overreacted, I was unreasonable. The Dean clearly bought it. Looking at Valerie, his tone softened considerably. “Valerie, don’t overthink it. This has nothing to do with you. It’s our school’s management that has problems, admitting students with such poor character.” He looked at me again. “The school has decided that given your short time here but already causing two serious incidents, creating an extremely bad impact on the school’s reputation, we’ll give you one chance. Apply for voluntary withdrawal yourself. Otherwise, you’ll receive a major demerit, school-wide public criticism, and expulsion.” Expulsion. Those four words fell like four mountains pressing down. My dad had spent half his life’s savings and pulled countless strings to transfer me here from a rural high school, all so I could have a better future. If I got expelled, everything would be ruined. Garrett and Valerie exchanged glances, both seeing triumph in each other’s eyes. This was the result they wanted. To completely remove me from this school. “Well? Have you decided?” The Dean urged impatiently. I remained silent, saying nothing. My silence appeared to them as despair and submission. Valerie even “kindly” advised me: “Rubio, the Dean is doing this for your own good. Voluntary withdrawal looks better on your record. You’ll still have opportunities in the future.” I finally raised my head, my gaze sweeping over the three of them. The Dean’s bureaucracy and snobbery, Garrett’s arrogance and stupidity, Valerie’s malice and hypocrisy. Looking at them, I suddenly smiled. “Dean, before making a decision, I think you should probably watch a video first.” “What video? Stop being mysterious here!” Garrett shouted. I ignored him, pulling out an ordinary-looking black smartphone from my pocket. This phone—from the start of school until now—I had never used in front of anyone. Everyone thought I only had that Nokia. I unlocked the screen and opened a video file. “Dean, did you know? In public places like cafeterias, although some surveillance cameras are just for show, there are always some corners where the signal is public.” I turned the phone screen toward him, my voice not loud but clearly reaching every corner of the office. “I don’t have many hobbies, but I like writing little programs. For instance, occasionally backing up certain public video streams under public WiFi. Very unluckily, this afternoon at lunch, I backed up a segment.”

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On Valentine’s Day, I got a huge delivery order to a hotel. Two boxes of condoms. Plus a lingerie set. Delivery fee: a hundred bucks. I rushed over through the freezing wind, only to hear my wife’s voice through the door, talking to another man. “Six condoms. You’re not leaving until we use them all,” she said, teasing. They were so eager they hadn’t even closed the door all the way. I didn’t go in. I didn’t say a word. I just sat in the hallway and smoked an entire pack. While I listened to my wife moan, desperate, breathless, urgent, I took the designer bag she’d been begging for and burned it to ash. Late that night when I got home, Isabelle Snow was wearing a sheer nightgown, posing in front of the mirror. When she saw me come in, she quickly threw on a robe. Panic flickered in her eyes. “You’re home so late. It’s Valentine’s Day. Where’s my gift?” Seeing my empty hands, her voice turned sharp. Once, I would’ve caught every flicker of her mood and done everything to make her happy. But tonight, my heart was still as dead water. I returned to the bedroom exhausted and collapsed on the bed without a word. When I turned over, I accidentally touched a small pink tube under the pillow. A line of small print on the packaging. “Restores intimate areas to youthful firmness and moisture, giving him the ride of his life.” I stared at the ointment in a daze. Isabelle rushed into the bedroom and snatched it away, clutching it in her hand. “I’ve had some minor gynecological issues lately. It’s nothing.” She guiltily tossed the ointment in the trash, then made a show of taking out the garbage. When she came back in, she was obviously relieved. I didn’t expose her. I pulled her onto the bed. “What are you doing?” Isabelle resisted. “It’s been over three months. It’s Valentine’s Day-let’s do it once.” I numbly lifted her skirt. Rather than still having desire for her, I was holding in my rage, wanting release. Her expression showed clear rejection as she frowned and pushed me away. “You’re covered in sweat. Your clothes are filthy.” I ignored her and reached to touch her. Slap. Isabelle’s hand landed on my face-not too hard, not too soft. We both froze. She looked a bit panicked, but still turned her face away. “Is this the only thing in your brain?” I stared at the red marks on her thighs that hadn’t yet faded, my mouth curling in self-mockery. How ridiculous. A place where another man could freely roam, yet I, her legal husband, couldn’t even touch. As we remained in this standoff, Isabelle’s phone rang. Someone was FaceTiming her. She immediately flipped the phone face-down in her palm, pulled her nightgown closed, and hurried away, locking herself in the study. I didn’t need to guess who would make her hide in the study to take a call at midnight. I went into the bathroom and listlessly washed myself. Isabelle and I were college classmates, once the template for a perfect campus romance. My billionaire father, worried I’d become a spoiled brat, pretended to be poor from the time I was young, constantly reinforcing the idea that our family had no money. It wasn’t until the day before college graduation that I learned our family actually had billions in assets. I immediately proposed giving Isabelle a proper wedding, but my parents refused to approve our marriage. Between billions in family assets and Isabelle, I chose her without hesitation and cut ties with my family. In her eyes, I was a clueless kid fresh out of college, hitting walls everywhere, while she quickly found a job at an e-commerce company thanks to her good looks. When the company went under and jobs were hard to find, I delivered food in hundred-degree heat every day, never complaining to her about the hardship. I thought true love could last a lifetime. I never imagined how quickly hearts could change. Everything changed when her company got a new boss. A rich heir. Tristan Harrington was handsome, charming, the trendy pretty-boy type. And Isabelle was completely gone for him. She used to be casual about her appearance. Now she was learning makeup, obsessing over skincare and weight loss. Her closet filled up with tight, sexy short skirts and stockings. She loved posting provocative photos of herself in them on Instagram. I’d asked about it once, bothered. “Is it really appropriate to post those kinds of photos on Ins?” She exploded on the spot. “What do you know? It’s competitive out there. If you want to make money, you have to put yourself out there!” Back then, I thought she was just stressed from work. I didn’t take it seriously. If I hadn’t been desperately taking orders to buy her that dream bag for Valentine’s Day, I’d still believe in this relationship completely. I stood in the cold water for a full hour until my whole body was numb, then sluggishly returned to the bedroom. The double bed had only one pillow left. On my phone was a message she’d sent half an hour ago. “I have a meeting tomorrow. Your snoring will disturb me. I’m sleeping in the guest room.” I lit a cigarette and stood outside the guest room door for a long time. Her phone call had lasted over an hour and showed no signs of ending. Coquettish laughter and the kind of dirty talk only lovers say drifted faintly through the door. Even through the door, I could feel how happy Isabelle was right now. The scales of affection had already tipped. Any further pretense was just self-deception.

After a sleepless night, I left the house like a zombie. The mortgage loomed like a mountain on my shoulders. Even time to grieve was a luxury. Between the intense work and my depression, I was dazed when an oncoming luxury car hit me. Ironically, the person who got out of the car was Isabelle. Seeing me covered in wounds, she froze. “Call the police. Call an ambulance.” I was pinned under my scooter, my phone knocked away. All I could do was ask Isabelle for help, my face covered in blood. She said nothing, until Tristan Harrington got out of the car and naturally put his arm around her. “What, you know him?” Isabelle blurted out, “I don’t know him! He’s just some delivery guy!” In that moment, the tearing pain in my heart far exceeded any physical suffering. “Fucking bad luck. Running into some broke asshole first thing in the morning trying to scam us.” Tristan Harrington spat at me, then turned and hooked his arm around Isabelle’s waist. “Don’t bother with him. He won’t die. I’ve got plenty of money-I’d rather pay lawyers than give these poor dogs anything.” She looked back at me hesitantly a few times, then pressed her lips together and resolutely got in the car. Exhaust swept across my face as I lay paralyzed in the road, my eyes caked with blood, my ribs stabbing with every breath. I lay in the road for twenty minutes. Finally a passerby called an ambulance and got me to the hospital. “Mr. Morgan, surgery requires family consent. Please contact your family.” Seeing my silence, the doctor added awkwardly, “These are hospital rules. We all have to follow procedures.” With the only finger I could move, I called Isabelle. Against the noisy background of a bar, Isabelle lowered her voice. “Didn’t I tell you not to call during work hours?” Even though I was prepared, my chest still tightened with pain. “Come to the hospital to sign something. It’ll only take a few minutes.” Suggestive sounds came through the phone, along with Isabelle’s uneven breathing. “It’s just minor injuries. Are you really making such a big deal?” “Derek, it’s bad enough you have no ambition and deliver food. Don’t cause problems and stress me out.” With that, she hung up. When I called again, there was only the cold automated message that the phone was off. Right. I was just a delivery guy. How could I compare to a flashy rich heir? He wore tailored suits and threw money around, while I wore sweat-soaked t-shirts and raced against time for each delivery. I looked at my sun-darkened, peeling arms and felt both pathetic and ridiculous. Why bother? I had billions in family assets I could claim, but I chose to eat bitterness I didn’t have to. “Mr. Morgan, contact family as soon as possible. Any more delay and we might have to amputate.” The doctor’s words snapped me back to reality. After five years, I dialed that long-unused number again. “Dad, come to the hospital to sign for me.”

I spent two weeks in the hospital. Isabelle never called once. On the day I was discharged, my father gave me half his assets. I had the driver and bodyguards wait downstairs while I went alone to the home Isabelle and I shared. When I opened the door, Isabelle hastily pulled on her nightgown. “Honey, wait downstairs for a bit. Now’s not convenient.” She blocked the door with her body, refusing to let me in. A man’s voice came from inside the room. “Babe, where are my pants?” There’s no such thing as regret medicine. Isabelle awkwardly pushed me into the hallway, her back against the door. Seeing the cast on my leg, she finally looked a bit guilty and tried to explain. “Honey, I didn’t know you were hurt this badly… My coworkers were all in the car at the time… I…” “I get it. Having a delivery guy for a husband embarrassed you.” I cut her off. Hit with the truth, Isabelle got defensive. “I’m already exhausted from work. Can you not be so sensitive?” I laughed coldly. “I come back to my own house to see my legal wife, and I have to avoid another man?” “I have to wait for him to leave before I can come home?” A flash of embarrassment crossed Isabelle’s face, then she became self-righteous. “I’m human too. I have needs. You haven’t touched me in months-I can’t find some way to satisfy myself?” “You come home like a dead man every day and pass out. Have you ever cared about my emotions, my needs?” “Derek! You have no right to judge me!” Watching her so confident and self-righteous, I suddenly felt like a complete joke. Back when she held me in our tiny rental apartment and said she didn’t need wealth, just someone loyal. For that one promise, I’d tasted every bitter fruit. She said coworkers mocked her shabby clothes. I worked dawn to dusk to buy her designer clothes, wearing the same pants for three years without replacing them. When she worked overtime, I’d come home exhausted and still do all the housework, preparing healthy breakfasts before leaving. After a full day’s grind, I barely had energy to speak, let alone for that. Now, this had become her righteous excuse for cheating. I asked wearily, “Am I the only one suffering in this marriage?” Isabelle jabbed her finger at me aggressively, like a ruffled chicken. “What’s that supposed to mean? Marrying me wronged you?” Her movements were too dramatic. Her nightgown belt came loose, revealing the torn, misshapen lingerie underneath. Her smooth, pale chest and thighs were covered in humiliating words written in lipstick. The hair there was shaved completely clean. She frantically pulled her robe closed, but I laughed bitterly. The rose I’d cultivated with blood and tears willingly degraded herself for another man. I used to have to beg and plead just to try a different position, and even then I had to check Isabelle’s mood first. Now Tristan Harrington said one word and she pulled out all the stops. In that moment, the last shred of feeling I had for Isabelle vanished. “Let’s divorce.” I coldly tossed out the divorce papers. “Playing hard to get? You think when I actually sign, you’ll cry and beg me to stay?” “Derek, leave yourself some dignity, okay?” Isabelle didn’t even glance at the papers, mocking me instead. I was too tired to argue. I held out a pen. “You’re right about everything. Sign it.” Her expression shifted. She stared at me silently. Tristan Harrington came out and, right in front of me, put his arm around Isabelle. “If you’re not capable, don’t blame women for being materialistic.” As he spoke, he pointed at the million-dollar luxury car parked downstairs. “Let me teach you something. Some things-if you’re born with them, you have them. If you’re born without them, you’ll never have a chance in this life. Got it?” I nodded and sent a message on my phone. “Don’t say things are final. You never know when you might get unlucky.” The moment I finished speaking, several bodyguards rushed over and viciously smashed Tristan Harrington’s luxury car. “See? You just got unlucky.” I smiled. Tristan Harrington’s face turned green with distress. He rushed downstairs without even putting on pants. “I drank too much this time. It was an accident. Everyone makes mistakes, right? Once you calm down, we can talk.” Isabelle pressed her forehead, waving me off dismissively. I laughed coldly and pulled out that day’s delivery order. “Six condoms. Hope they didn’t wear you out too much?” Isabelle’s face changed dramatically. After a stunned moment, she glared at me furiously instead. “Derek! You’re disgusting! You followed me!” I laughed-laughed at Isabelle’s invincible logic. She cheated first, but could still righteously accuse me. I lit a cigarette, smoke blurring my vision. “Just sign.” Isabelle realized I was determined and finally dropped the act. “Fine. We can divorce. But I get the house. Plus you give me another hundred thousand for my wasted youth.” Without the filter of love, I realized how little I knew the woman I’d married nearly ten years ago. I let out a laugh, angry and disbelieving. “The house was mine before we got married. I made the down payment. You’ve spent every cent you earned on yourself. I’ve been paying the mortgage alone. You cheated on me, and you still have the nerve to ask for the house and compensation?” “We’re the same age. My time matters just as much as yours.” Isabelle went full-on crazy. “What did I do? I invited my boss home to talk business. What’s inappropriate about that?” I was shocked by her shamelessness. “What kind of work requires taking off your pants and shaving before you can discuss it?” I stared at her coldly. Isabelle had never seen me so firm. She was speechless for a long moment. “Even if I was wrong, it’s because you neglected me! At minimum I deserve half!” “Besides, you don’t even have proof!” I’d originally planned to part with Isabelle amicably, but watching her throw this tantrum, I suddenly felt disgusted. Nine whole years. In the end, it was my own misplaced devotion. I’d installed smart security cameras in the house a month ago. All their acrobatics were pushed to my phone in real time. I’d wanted to give us both a dignified ending, but she was forcing me to be undignified. Watching me take the camera off the refrigerator, Isabelle froze in place. She never cared about household matters and didn’t even know about the camera installation. Faced with iron evidence, Isabelle changed tactics in a second, playing the emotional card. “Derek, I gave you the best years of my life. You promised you wouldn’t let me live a hard life.” “I’m a woman struggling in society. It’s not easy. You’re still so young-you can buy another house after giving me this one.” I lost all interest in arguing with her. “Take the house. We’re done here.” This property meant nothing to me now. Pocket change. I wasn’t about to keep fighting Isabelle over something so small. Before, no matter how hard things got, just seeing her could reignite my fire. But now? She just disgusted me. Seeing how easily I gave in, Isabelle leaned against the doorframe, smug. “I’m not worse than anyone else. You didn’t really expect me to live a hard life with you forever, did you?” “You’re poor. You’re useless. You got to have someone like me for years. You should consider yourself lucky.” I looked at Isabelle, the woman I’d been with for so long, and suddenly she felt like a stranger. When did the girl who needed me to hold her just to fall asleep turn into this? I clutched the divorce papers and walked down the stairs. I didn’t look back.

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I’d been married for three years, and my husband remembered every single one of my periods, knew all my dislikes and preferences by heart. Until his childhood sweetheart, Aria Smith, brought me chestnuts from her hometown. Morning sickness hit me hard, and I spat out the chestnut in my mouth. But Aria broke down crying and ran to complain to my husband. “Bella ate the offering I prepared for the mountain god! What am I going to do? The mountain god will punish me!” My husband, Tristan Hall, eyes red with anger, confronted me in disbelief. “Do you know the mountain god’s wrath could kill Aria? When did you become so vicious?” I was too shocked to speak. Before I could tell him I was pregnant, he locked me in the basement cold storage. “You’ll stay in there and reflect on what you’ve done. Come out when you’ve learned your lesson.” After he left, Aria smiled sweetly as she turned on the refrigeration. “Bella, Tristan belongs to me and me alone!” I couldn’t push the door open. The temperature kept dropping. All that awaited me was endless cold.

Icy air rushed at me from all directions, piercing into my bones. I endured the cramping pain in my abdomen, crawled up from the floor, and pounded on the cold storage door with all my strength. “It’s so cold! Tristan, let me out!” “I know I was wrong! Let me out!” My lower abdomen began cramping again. But no matter how hard I screamed for help with every ounce of strength I had, it remained quiet outside. “Honey… I’m so cold…” I felt a tearing pain in my lower abdomen. A warm flow slowly ran down my thighs. My hands were covered in blood, my voice panicked and trembling. “Honey! Tristan! Please save our baby!” “Please!!!” He never heard my cries. Or he didn’t want to hear them. The temperature around me kept dropping. My mind grew foggy. I was wearing a short-sleeved shirt and shorts. I shivered from the cold, curling up in the corner. Soon, a layer of frost formed on my eyelashes. I exhaled cold breath, my teeth chattering. But no matter how much I called for help, no one responded. The air in the cold storage was thin. A suffocating feeling engulfed me like a tide. I wanted to breathe. But it was too cold. Too cold to have any strength. My vision began to blur, my ears buzzing. In the endless cold and despair, my consciousness gradually faded. My body curled in the corner. After exhaling my last warm breath, I wasn’t cold anymore. My whole body felt burning hot. My brain couldn’t think. Unconsciously, I stripped off all my clothes. Scenes of Tristan proposing to me flashed through my mind. He knelt on one knee, the tenderness in his eyes nearly drowning me. “Bella, I, Tristan, swear to you that I will protect you for life.” “Liar.” After uttering those last words, I finally closed my heavy eyelids. When I opened my eyes again, my soul was floating above. Looking down, I saw my body curled in the corner of the cold storage. Like an ice sculpture. I was dead? Dead at the hands of the man I loved most in this life. After coming home from work, Tristan felt uneasy. “Bella!” He called out several times, but no one answered. “Why is there no sound?” He frowned and walked toward the cold storage. Aria suddenly ran over, her voice clingy and aggrieved. “Tristan, you’re back! I’m starving!” Tristan was carrying my favorite chestnuts. His eyes swept around the room, his steps pausing as he asked in confusion: “I brought her favorite candied chestnuts. By the way, did you see her this afternoon?”

Aria stammered, unable to speak. “Tristan, are you looking for Bella?” “She packed her things… and then left…” “Right! She said not to tell you, to make you angry!” A flash of inexplicable loss crossed Tristan’s eyes. He casually tossed the newly bought chestnuts to Aria. “Since she doesn’t want them, the chestnuts are yours.” The next morning when he left, he felt vaguely uneasy. But he still smiled at our wedding photo on the wall. “Darling, I’m heading out!” My soul followed him as he went to the courthouse. The Tristan in court was completely different from the one at home with me. He was sharp-tongued with clear logic. He left the opposing lawyer speechless. He won a commercial smuggling case worth a billion dollars. No one would imagine that this righteous attorney was the murderer of his own wife! After work, a colleague joked: “Attorney Hall wins the case and won’t even celebrate with us?” “Want to rush home to your wife and kids?” Tristan laughed softly, his earlobes turning red. “Not yet! Although I love kids, I respect Bella’s wishes.” “After all, having children isn’t just my decision. Bella would have to sacrifice more.” I held my breath. If I hadn’t experienced all this firsthand, I might have fallen into the death trap woven from his tenderness and sweetness. His tenderness was all fake pretense. A friend’s voice carried a trace of doubt. “It’s already ten-thirty. How come I haven’t heard your Bella call looking for you?” I held my breath. But Tristan just glanced at his phone casually. “Oh! You mean that!” Tristan spread his hands, laughing helplessly. “She must have blocked me again. Looks like I’m sleeping on the couch tonight!” I did used to block him after arguments. But I never thought he wouldn’t even make a single call to me. I held back my tears. So this was what it felt like when love and hate intertwined—pain piercing to the bone. When he got home, Tristan carefully prepared a candlelit dinner. He arranged my favorite roses. This was his unique way of apologizing. “Bella, come out and eat!” But he called again and again. Still no one answered. I floated beside him, listening to him sigh. “Bella, if you’re angry at me, you can say it directly. There’s no need to deliberately eat the chestnuts and take it out on an innocent person.” “If something happens to Aria, neither you nor I can bear that responsibility.” Aria also said with red eyes, adding fuel to the fire: “Tristan, Bella didn’t do it on purpose.” “But I peeled those chestnuts one by one for the mountain god. My nails are all split…” “Watching her waste them like that, it hurts my heart.” As she spoke, she threw herself into Tristan’s arms, squeezing out two tears. Tristan looked down, his eyes instantly reddening with heartache at her aggrieved appearance. “Aria, don’t cry. She’s probably just throwing a tantrum again. Maybe she went to her parents’ house.” I trembled with rage. But I could no longer grab his collar and demand answers. He clearly said I was his lifelong love. Why didn’t he believe me? Why did he believe whatever Aria said? Aria sat across from him, her face full of smugness. Accompanying him to enjoy this romantic candlelit dinner. As if Aria were more like his wife, more like the mistress of this house than I was. And I was just an unwanted outsider. But late at night at midnight, looking at our wedding photo on the wall, Tristan tossed and turned, unable to sleep. He finally called my mom. “Mom, um… did Bella come home?”

“She had a fight with me and ran away from home. I’m worried about how to coax her back.” My parents laughed and teased on the other end: “That’s what you get for spoiling her. How could she really be angry at you?” “What couple doesn’t fight at the head of the bed and make up at the foot? Just coax her a bit more.” “Bella has been sensible since childhood. Five days from now is her birthday—we’ll come over and talk to her.” My heart skipped a beat. Would they discover my body? Aria was eavesdropping at the door, slowly curling her lips into a smile. Suddenly the circuit breaker went ‘snap.’ “Mom, Dad, I think the power just went out here. Let me check. I’ll talk to you later.” After hanging up, he turned off his phone. The ‘humble and gentle’ mask on his face instantly disappeared. Replaced by cold indifference. Too bad no one knew that the wife he described as throwing tantrums was already dead in that cold storage. Her body had already started to rot and stink. “Bella, did you trip the breaker?” But he couldn’t hear my response. Only deadly silence. A faint stench drifted out from the basement. Tristan wrinkled his nose, his face full of disgust. He held a flashlight and knocked on the cold storage door. “Bella? Bella Dream?” “Are you in there?” The breaker had tripped, the cold storage was no longer refrigerating. A swarm of rats smelled the stench and rushed in through the ventilation ducts. They frantically pounced on me in the corner. But he couldn’t see any of it. Tristan knocked twice, then waited a few seconds outside the door. A rat suddenly scurried past his feet. Aria ran out from the bedroom sleepily. “Bella is deliberately hiding from you!” “She’s hiding in some corner watching, watching you worry and panic over her.” “When she stops being angry, she’ll definitely come find you.” Tristan nodded, seeming to believe I was deliberately avoiding him. The fifth day after my death. The iron door of the cold storage could no longer contain the stench. Tristan, who was taking a shower in the bathroom, smelled it and couldn’t help but frown. He inadvertently glanced at the pregnancy test in the trash can. Two lines. Tristan’s furrowed brow gradually relaxed. Joy flickered in his eyes. “Pregnant!” “Really! Running around while pregnant! So irresponsible!” Just as he was getting happy, Aria suddenly rushed in. She snatched the pregnancy test from his hand, deliberately pouting. “Tristan, that’s mine.” “Don’t worry, I’ll go to the hospital to get rid of this baby and won’t tell Bella…” Tristan tiredly stroked her head. “I’m sorry, Aria! I was drunk that night and mistook you for Bella… that’s why I felt so guilty toward you. That’s why I treated her that way…” The two snuggled together. The tender scene of mutual affection deeply pierced me. But floating in mid-air, I still saw the triumphant smile at the corner of Aria’s mouth. After he coaxed Aria to sleep, he pulled out my designer perfume. “It stinks!” He irritably raised the perfume and sprayed it everywhere. Trying to cover up the stench. “Which corner has a dead rat?” But he was too lazy to go look in the basement again. And I died in the basement cold storage, one body, two lives.

On my birthday, my parents came to visit. As soon as my mom walked in, she praised the wedding photo on the wall. “Look how beautiful this is, what a perfect match!” Tristan looked at me in the wedding photo, touched his nose, and smiled sweetly. “Bella didn’t mind that I was dirt poor back then!” I floated above their heads. Remembering how I willingly endured hardship with him, I now found it utterly ironic. Mom suddenly furrowed her brow and wandered through the rooms. “What’s this smell… so foul!” She muttered to herself, coming to the basement door. “It’s coming from down there…” Tristan covered his nose. There really was a smell of dead rats that even perfume couldn’t cover. “Looks like Bella is still angry at me and wants to prank me.” “It’s fine, I’ll go clean the basement later.” Watching him lie and slander me without even blinking, I was so angry my chest heaved up and down. Mom’s expression changed as she nodded. “It’s our fault for spoiling Bella.” “Tristan is successful in his career, has a good temper, and dotes on Bella. He’s a rare good man.” “With Bella married to him, I can rest easy.” Tristan’s image as the good son-in-law was flawless. Even my parents were completely fooled. Dad shook his head angrily. “This child… always causing trouble.” “Tristan is so busy with work, yet he has to indulge her tantrums.” “No way! Call her over here. I need to give her a piece of my mind!” Aria seized the opportunity to come out and comfort them. They chatted happily in the living room. As if Aria were the mistress of this house. No one noticed me. She squeezed in, affectionately holding my mom’s hand. “Mr.Dream, Mrs.Dream, I’ll help you talk to Bella.” “Mrs.Dream, can I chat with you? You remind me of my mom!” “Would you accept me as your goddaughter?” My mom readily agreed, then suddenly frowned. “I have no problem with it, but we need to ask Bella’s opinion.” “Bella is pregnant. We promise not to disturb her rest!” “Right! We haven’t seen our precious daughter in so long!” The warmth on Tristan’s face instantly faded. He frowned and asked again: “Mom, who did you say is pregnant?” Mom smiled and repeated. “Bella, didn’t she tell you?” Tristan suddenly remembered something, his face turning pale. The faint stench grew stronger and stronger. Irritation flashed in his eyes. “Why is it… so foul?” Aria immediately waved her hands, blocking their way. “It’s nothing, just meat that rotted in the cold storage…” Tristan nodded too. “Rats are running wild in the basement. Better not go down there yet.” But Mom’s eyes were determined. “What’s to be afraid of! A few little rats won’t eat anyone!” “That stubborn girl Bella must be hiding down there. She doesn’t even mind the stench!” She even went around him, heading straight for the basement. Tristan tried to stop her. “Mom, don’t go down there. The rats will bite!” “Come back up! If something happens to you, Bella will definitely blame me!” Aria’s face turned deathly pale as she timidly grabbed my mom’s hand. But Mom sensed something was wrong and shook off her hand. With a serious expression, she opened the cold storage door. Instantly, a nauseating stench burst out.

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Everyone knew that the most important thing in Marcus Smith’s life was scientific research. He promised that as soon as he won the Lincoln Research Award, he would marry me immediately. For this, I waited for him ten years. During the day I was his lab assistant, at night his stress-relief bed partner, letting him vent as he pleased. Until I went to the lab to deliver materials to him. I saw him pressing his sponsored poverty scholarship student, Lily Foster, onto the couch, entangled desperately with her. Amid the entanglement, Lily sobbed softly: “Marcus, you’re about to step onto the Lincoln Award podium, and I’m going to lose you.” Marcus’s tone was gentle: “How could that be? You’ll receive the award with me too. I organized Hailey Snow’s data and put your name on it. I want you to stand beside me openly and honorably.” I froze at the doorway, sneering inwardly. I’d like to see how they plagiarize my data when I’m on the awards committee. I was about to leave when suddenly a voice came from the end of the corridor: “Hailey!” It was a new graduate research student from the lab, coming to ask me questions. Hearing the sudden silence from inside the room, I smiled. After answering the student’s questions, I raised my hand and knocked gently on the door. “Come in.” Marcus’s voice was calm as usual. I pushed the door open. He sat in his chair while Lily stood beside him, her cheeks slightly flushed, her lips more vivid than usual. “Hailey.” Marcus looked up tentatively. “When did you get here?” “Just now. A student came to ask me questions.” I answered calmly. Marcus nodded. “Perfect timing. I have an announcement to make. Go call everyone to the conference room.” In the conference room, Marcus spoke eloquently while Lily sat to his left. I sat in the farthest corner, opening my notebook. “…So, for the paper ‘Novel Semiconductor Interface State Regulation,’” he paused, “the first author will be Lily.” Lily covered her mouth, but her eyes were astonishingly bright. “Professor Smith… how can this work? The data was mainly Hailey’s…” “The team needs to focus on cultivating young talent.” Marcus interrupted her, his gaze turning to me. “Your data work is very solid, but Lily needs this paper more to apply for her doctorate. Does anyone object?” Seven or eight people in the lab—no one dared speak. My fingers gripping the edge of my notebook tightened slightly, my knuckles turning white. Then I suddenly stood up. The coffee cup on the table fell and shattered on the floor. “I don’t agree.” Marcus frowned, his tone impatient. “All results in the lab belong to the team. Hailey, your contribution will be reflected in the acknowledgments section.” “Acknowledgments?” I laughed coldly. “Three months, working fourteen hours a day, measuring seven hundred data sets, optimizing five parameter models—and in the end it’s worth just an ‘acknowledgment’?” His face darkened. “Watch your attitude. This is a public setting.” “Public setting?” I looked around. “So you deliberately chose to notify me here? To humiliate me in front of everyone?” Lily timidly interjected: “Hailey, don’t be angry. Professor Smith is just thinking of my future…” “Your future?” I turned to her, enunciating each word. “Building your future with my data?” Marcus strode over and grabbed my wrist. “Don’t make a scene here. We’ll talk about it when we get back.” I shook off his hand. “Let’s be clear right here. Marcus, you promised me this paper was mine. You said it yourself!” A flash of panic crossed his face, quickly replaced by anger: “That was on the premise that the data met standards! Your final verification data had too much fluctuation. Lily helped you recalibrate it!” I almost laughed until I cried. The data fluctuation was due to a temporary instrument malfunction. Later I worked all night repeating the experiment three times to get accurate data. Lily timely pulled out her notebook and turned to a certain page. “Hailey, look, this is my calculation draft from that time…” Suddenly, I felt blood rushing to my head. “That’s my calculation method! You just copied it!” “Hailey!” Marcus shouted sternly, then moved close to my ear. “Do you really want to make such a scene? Don’t forget what I have saved on my phone. Do I need to remind you publicly?” My whole body stiffened. Those nights when he coaxed me into taking intimate photos. He said it was for fun, for memories. Turns out he was saving them for this moment. “You…” My voice trembled. A flash of triumph crossed his eyes, his tone softening: “Be good. Give the paper to Lily. There will be better opportunities later, I promise.” Lily also came over. “Hailey, I’m sorry… but my mom really needs money for treatment. This authorship will let me get a scholarship and subsidies…” I looked at her tearful face, then at the threat in Marcus’s eyes. I slowly released my clenched hands and lowered my eyes. “Fine.” Marcus breathed a sigh of relief and patted my shoulder. “That’s more like it.” He turned to face everyone, his tone calm again. “That settles it. Lily, give me the draft by this weekend. Meeting adjourned.” The crowd quickly dispersed. As Lily passed by me, she said very softly, “Thank you, Hailey.” Then she hurried to catch up with Marcus. The empty lab left only me and the mess on the floor. I crouched down and slowly picked up the ceramic cup fragments. A sharp edge cut across my fingertip, and blood immediately welled up. I watched that drop of bright red fall onto the dark blue cover of my lab notebook, slowly spreading. I pressed my entire bloody fingerprint onto the title page. I lifted my head, my face showing only icy calm. The trembling and compromise just now were just a show for them. How ridiculous. After ten years together, Marcus hadn’t noticed at all that what was deeply buried in my eyes wasn’t sadness, but mockery and resolve. I closed the notebook and carefully placed it along with several other key data backups into the inner layer of my backpack. Standing up, I took one last look at Marcus’s tightly closed office door. Light leaked out, casting shadows of two people standing very close together. I lightly curled my lips and turned to leave.

Late night in my apartment, I sat on the floor organizing old boxes. My phone screen lit up abruptly in the dim room. It was a notification for Lily’s social media update. [Grateful for Marcus’s careful guidance. My first first-author paper is about to be submitted!] The attached photo showed Marcus’s profile as he leaned down to explain data to her, his eyes gentle. I turned off my phone and pulled a thick photo album from the bottom of the box. The first photo showed nineteen-year-old me wearing a white lab coat, standing at the lab entrance with a nervous yet excited smile. Next to me was twenty-four-year-old Marcus, his hand casually on my shoulder, full of ambition. He was a third-year graduate student, and I was a freshman “genius newcomer” given special admission to the lab. He said: “Hailey, you’re the most talented student I’ve ever seen. Follow me, and I’ll lead you to work on cutting-edge projects.” I believed him. From then on, my eyes held only him and the lab. I continued flipping through. Many photos. Me in my bachelor’s gown with him waving from the audience. Me operating expensive equipment for the first time with him standing behind me, guiding, his arms almost encircling me. A team outing where he blocked a colleague’s offered drink, saying “She doesn’t drink, I’ll take it”… Every frozen smile now looked like a layer of carefully applied paint, concealing the already rotting wood beneath. Until the last few pages. The photos became fewer. The most recent one was from two years ago, at Marcus’s celebration banquet after winning the Young Scientist Award. He stood under the spotlight holding champagne, giving a speech thanking the team, the university, his parents. That night, he drunkenly held me, his breath hot against my ear: “When I win the Lincoln Award, we’ll get married. I want everyone to know that half my success is yours.” I believed him then. I even felt that all that day-after-day toil, those stolen authorships, those late nights walking home alone—all were necessary thorns on the path to that “future.” How ridiculous. My phone vibrated again. Marcus sent several messages: [I’m not coming back tonight. Lily’s paper has some issues that need handling. Go to bed early.] [My attitude was bad today, but you have to understand—Lily comes from a difficult background. This authorship can change her entire life.] [About the photos—as long as you behave, I won’t let a third person see them. You know what matters most to me.] Looking at his words “behave,” my stomach churned. I got up from the floor and felt under a pile of old sweaters, finding a cold metal square. I pressed play. “I organized Hailey’s data and put your name on it…” “Don’t forget what I have saved on my phone. Do I need to remind you publicly?” “Be good. Give the paper to Lily.” I turned off the voice recorder, gripping it tightly in my hand. The metal edges pressed painfully into my palm, but brought a strange sense of calm. I closed the photo album and opened my computer. A folder labeled “Ten Years” was densely packed with documents: experimental plans, data analysis, paper drafts, project proposals… The author on all of them was Marcus. My name was always in the “Acknowledgments,” or simply absent. I organized evidence until three in the morning. After finishing, I walked into the bathroom, turned on the tap, and splashed cold water on my face. Then I lifted my head and, facing the mirror, said very softly: “Marcus, the scientific career you value, the perfect image you’ve carefully cultivated, the Lily you want to treasure in your palm…” “I’ll destroy them all, one by one, with my own hands.”

The next day, I arrived at the lab as usual and proactively approached Lily. “Do you need me to help review the draft?” Her eyes were guarded, but she nodded. “Thanks, Hailey.” I sat beside her and opened her document. The paper was beautifully written. I knew Marcus’s writing style too well—he likely wrote it himself while she took credit. But in the data presentation section, I immediately spotted problems. I pointed at the screen. “This set of data—did you remeasure it?” Her eyes flickered. “Yes… Professor Smith said this better fits the theoretical predictions.” I sneered inwardly. Science isn’t about fitting predictions—it’s about respecting facts. But I nodded. “True, this makes the charts look better.” I enthusiastically helped her adjust the chart formatting, making extremely subtle changes to several key parameter settings. With Lily’s skill level, she couldn’t possibly notice. Instead, she said gratefully: “Hailey, you’re amazing. The charts suddenly look so much more professional.” Marcus came over and glanced at it, nodding. “Good.” He looked at me, his tone softening. “Hailey, about yesterday… my tone was harsh. But you need to understand—Lily comes from a difficult background. This authorship is very important to her.” I smiled. “I understand. Team interests first.” He seemed relieved, placing his hand on my shoulder. “Dinner together tonight? Consider it… compensation.” My body tensed slightly, but I still nodded. “Okay.” He smiled. That smile had once moved my heart for ten years. Now I only found it hypocritical. At the upscale Western restaurant, Marcus reserved a window seat. He unusually gallantly pulled out my chair and ordered dishes I liked. “Remember our first proper dinner together?” He cut his steak. “Same restaurant.” I nodded. Of course I remembered. That day he received his first national-level project and said “we should celebrate.” That night he drank too much, rambled about his ambitions, and finally fell asleep on my shoulder. In the end, I paid the bill. “Ten years went by so fast.” He raised his glass. “Hailey, thank you for accompanying me all these years.” I clinked glasses but didn’t drink. He continued talking to himself: “Once we secure the Lincoln Award this time, we’ll…” He stopped mid-sentence. “Get married?” I finished for him. His eyes flickered. “Yes. So about the paper—don’t dwell on it anymore. After Lily graduates, I’ll arrange better projects for you.” I smiled. “Okay.” He seemed satisfied with my “compliance” and talked more: “Lily is really struggling, you know. Single-parent family, her mother seriously ill, surviving entirely on scholarships…” I listened quietly. He’d said these things before, only the protagonist was me back then. Then he said: “I’ll make you successful.” Now he said: “You need to help Lily.” Such irony.

When dessert arrived, his phone rang. He glanced at it and declined the call. When it rang for the third time, he frowned and answered: “I know… you don’t need to be nervous, all the data is ready…” The voice on the other end was loud—I could hear Lily crying: “Professor Smith, I’m scared… what if the judges ask questions I can’t answer…” He lowered his voice: “Don’t worry. I’ve arranged everything. Get some rest early. I’ll pick you up tomorrow.” After hanging up, he explained to me: “Lily’s a bit nervous about tomorrow’s award ceremony.” I said nothing, quietly setting down my spoon. Marcus looked up. “Not eating?” “I’m full.” I pulled out a napkin to wipe my hands. He nodded and waved to call the server for the check. He pulled out his wallet, his movement pausing: “Hailey, could you pay this time? My credit card maxed out this month. I bought Lily a formal outfit.” I looked at him. Ten years ago at our first dinner, I paid. Ten years later at our last dinner, I was still paying. Really hadn’t changed at all. I took out my card. “Fine.” Walking out of the restaurant, the night breeze was cool. He reached to put his arm around my shoulder. I sidestepped. “I need to get up early tomorrow. I’m heading back.” He froze, his hand suspended in mid-air. “You… are you still angry?” “No.” I hailed a taxi. “Just tired.” Before getting in the car, he suddenly called out: “Hailey.” I turned around. Under the streetlight, his face was half-bright, half-dark. “No matter what happens, you know that what’s always been most important to me is research.” I raised an eyebrow. “I know.” So you can sacrifice everything, including me. As the car started moving, in the rearview mirror, he stood in place, his figure growing smaller and smaller. I checked the time. Eleven PM. Ten hours until the conference began. I told the driver: “Take me to the nearest high-end suit custom shop.” “At this hour? Are they still open?” “They will be if I pay enough.” The car turned onto another road. I leaned back in the seat and closed my eyes. Marcus. Lily. I really looked forward to seeing their reactions tomorrow!

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On our third wedding anniversary, Adrian shoved my head into the freezing pool. “Your parents killed my entire family. You haven’t finished paying for their sins.” Three years I endured his cruelty, trying to atone. Until he found her. A substitute who looked seventy percent like me. He took her to galas. He shredded the scarf I’d knitted for him. He even took my bone marrow to save her. That was when my heart finally died. At midnight, the moment our agreement expired, I walked into the sea. But at my funeral, he held my cold body and screamed. “Please come back to life… We can start over.” Then I opened my eyes. We had been reborn. To before any of it happened. In this life, he clung to me, eyes red, begging me not to leave. I only pushed him away, my voice calm. “Adrian, love is too exhausting. This time, I’m the one letting go.” Yulia’s POV I stood by the pool, looking at Adrian. Today was our third wedding anniversary. The Hayes family was throwing a grand winter party in my honor. Then icy water swallowed my head. My lungs screamed. “Adrian! Please…” I struggled to surface, but before I could finish speaking, the bodyguard pushed me under again. He stood by the pool with a wine glass, completely indifferent to my struggling. “Please?” He finally spoke, his voice colder than winter snow. “Three years ago, when your parents drove exhausted and killed my entire family, did they show any mercy?” He crouched down and grabbed my freezing purple chin. “Yulia, these three years are just the beginning.” I held it in desperately, but tears still poured out. Just as Adrian was about to say something, a coquettish female voice interrupted him. “Adrian, why are you still here? Didn’t you say you’d wait for me?” I looked up to see a girl in a white dress running over. That face was seventy percent similar to how I looked three years ago. This was Chloe, the substitute Adrian had found. “Giving my wife a gift.” Adrian stood up and considerately adjusted her shawl. Chloe glanced at me contemptuously. “A criminal. Don’t waste your time.” As they were about to leave, Chloe deliberately bumped into an ice sculpture. The massive sculpture toppled, and fragments crashed toward me as I climbed out of the pool. Sharp pain hit me, and my blood stained the pool water red. But Adrian took Chloe’s hand and kissed the tiny red mark on her fingertip. I watched them kiss, my heart pierced as if by ice shards. As Adrian carried Chloe away, he only left one sentence behind. “Take care of it. Don’t let her die.” For three years of marriage, all I ever saw was his back. We had grown up together, until the engagement party three years ago. That day, my parents, driving while exhausted, caused an accident that killed his family. My lover became my enemy overnight. He sent my parents to prison, where they couldn’t bear the torment and took their own lives. Before dying, they asked me to atone for three years, and if I still saw no hope, to join them. I pulled out the waterproof bag from my soaked clothes containing our family photo. In the photo, we were smiling so brightly. Only one month remained of the three-year term. For love of him, I had destroyed myself beyond recognition, only to receive this humiliation in return. “Mom, Dad, wait for me one more month,” I whispered. Just one month. Once the agreement was fulfilled, I would join them.

Yulia’s POV For the next few days, Adrian didn’t come home, and I didn’t ask. I stayed alone in the guest room, nursing my wounds. I touched that photo, counting down the twenty-nine days remaining. I decided to make one final effort for Adrian’s birthday. This might be my only hope to keep living. Back then, he said he didn’t like fuss, so our wedding was simple with only a few friends. I thought he probably felt the same about birthdays, which is why he never mentioned it. I was the only one maintaining this relationship. He stood high above, coldly watching me sink deeper. But now, I wanted to fight for myself one more time. Despite the tearing pain in my wounds, I spent the entire day knitting, undoing the yarn twice, finally completing a gray scarf. I dug out old photos and made a handmade album, filling each page with words I wanted to say to him. After finishing, I gathered my courage and sent Adrian a message. “Adrian, are you free tomorrow evening? Let’s meet at our usual restaurant.” I gripped my phone, waiting nervously until the screen lit up. Just a cold “Okay.” The next day, I arrived at the restaurant two hours early and set up the gifts and a small cake I’d made myself. But Adrian was two full hours late. When he pushed through the door and saw everything on the table, his expression immediately darkened. “Who told you to meddle? Did you forget that after my family died, I stopped celebrating birthdays?” As soon as he spoke, he expected me to cry and make a scene, since this was my surprise. He had even prepared his response, but I just looked at him. Adrian didn’t give me a chance to explain. He took scissors from the server and, right in front of me, cut that scarf to shreds. Gray yarn fragments scattered like snow, landing on me like a snowfall of despair. I didn’t dodge, just spoke with a trembling voice. “Adrian, let’s let each other go, okay? We can start over.” “Start over?” He laughed coldly, grabbed my chin, his eyes bloodshot. “That night of the accident, my parents, my sister, they died right in front of me! My grandfather couldn’t take the shock and collapsed on the spot. We couldn’t save him either! How can you tell me to let go? Yulia, tell me, how can I possibly let go!” After that night, he seemed like a different person. But I no longer had the energy to analyze his changes. Just then, the restaurant door opened again. Chloe walked in carrying a huge glass jar filled with colorful lucky stars. “Adrian, happy birthday.” She placed the jar on the table, smiling sweetly. “There are a thousand stars here. For each one you take out, you can make a wish to me.” Seeing this scene, hearing those words, both Adrian and I froze. On my twentieth birthday, I had given him the exact same gift and said the exact same words. He released me and pulled Chloe tightly into his arms, his voice hoarse. “I love it so much, Chloe. I love this gift so much.” Chloe shot me a triumphant look. In the past, seeing them so intimate would have made me cause a scene on the spot. But now, I just glanced once before looking away, stroking the neglected album on the table. My heart ached numbly. What defeated me wasn’t Chloe, but the version of myself at twenty that Adrian had deeply loved. He utterly hated the me of now, yet had a sick obsession with the Yulia in his memories. He gave all his tenderness to that substitute who looked like his Yulia. I was the most unnecessary one.

Yulia’s POV I couldn’t watch anymore. I stood up abruptly and left the restaurant without looking back. I drove through the night, wandering aimlessly. Tears fell without warning. So this numb heart could still feel pain. A white figure suddenly rushed out from the roadside. I slammed on the brakes, but it was too late. The front of my car hit the person hard, throwing them several meters away. I hurriedly got out of the car. When I saw who was lying in the pool of blood, I froze completely. It was Chloe. Why was she here? Before I could figure it out, Adrian’s furious roar came from behind. He rushed out of the car behind mine and frantically picked up the unconscious Chloe. “Yulia, why won’t you even spare her!” He looked up, his eyes full of hatred, as if he wanted to tear me apart. “It wasn’t me… She rushed out herself!” I explained, trembling. Adrian wouldn’t listen at all. He carried Chloe to his own car. Before leaving, he only gave orders to the arriving bodyguards. “Take her to the hospital. Make her kneel outside the emergency room to atone to Chloe!” I was forced to kneel on the cold tiles, two bodyguards restraining me tightly. Every second felt like torture. I heard Adrian pacing anxiously in the hallway, heard him roaring into his phone, using every connection to find the best doctors. Finally, he stopped in front of me, his voice as cold as ice. “If anything happens to her, you’ll pay with your life.” After what seemed like forever, the emergency room light finally went out. The doctor emerged, looking grave. “The patient is out of immediate danger, but we discovered she has acute leukemia. She must undergo a bone marrow transplant immediately.” Adrian’s body swayed. The doctor continued. “The patient has the rare Rh-negative blood type. Finding matching bone marrow will be extremely difficult…” Before he finished, Adrian’s gaze turned to me. He remembered-I also had Rh-negative blood. Under his stare, I felt cold all over, more terrified than ever before. I struggled to stand up, wanting to escape. “Hold her down!” Adrian commanded sharply. The bodyguards immediately stepped forward and pinned me down. “Adrian…” My voice shook uncontrollably. “Are you really going to do this to me?” He walked up to me step by step, his face devoid of warmth, only cold determination. “This is what you owe her. You have no right to refuse.” Then he turned to the doctor and ordered. “Use her bone marrow. Arrange the surgery immediately!” As they pushed me into the operating room, I saw Adrian sign his name as my spouse on a surgical consent form I had never agreed to. The surgical lights were so bright I couldn’t open my eyes. In a daze, I remembered once cutting my finger while cooking vegetables. He had panicked as if the sky were falling. He rushed me to the hospital, carefully bandaging me. And now, this man personally sent me to the operating table to extract part of me to save another woman. I closed my eyes, and tears slid down from the corners. Our relationship had actually come to this.

Yulia’s POV That night, I developed a high fever. Adrian didn’t come back. I burned in a daze, the puncture pain in my lower back mixing with old fracture injuries, hurting so much I didn’t even have the strength to call for emergency help. I could only force myself to get up and swallow a few fever-reducing pills. The medication didn’t work that fast. I lay back on the bed, my whole body burning, feeling suffocated from discomfort. I don’t know how long passed before I finally drifted into an uneasy sleep. When I woke up in the hospital room, I heard nurses gossiping. “Miss Chloe is so lucky. Mr. Hayes stayed outside the operating room all night for her.” “Yeah, I’ve never seen him so anxious about anyone.” I weakly spoke up, correcting them. “I’m his wife.” The nurses looked at each other awkwardly, lowered their heads, and hurried away. I struggled to get out of bed for some water but fell from the hospital bed in pain. Adrian, outside the door, saw this scene and seemed about to step forward, but then stopped abruptly and turned to leave quickly. His assistant hesitantly spoke. “Mr. Hayes, your wife…” “She deserves it,” Adrian interrupted him. “I let her go. Who’ll let me go?” I had no mind to pay attention to them. I rested alone in the hospital room for a few days until I received a text from an unknown number. It was a photo. In the photo, Chloe was smugly playing with an old pocket watch-the only keepsake my mother had left me. The text included a line: “Your bone marrow works great. Oh, and Adrian said this watch looks better on me anyway. Makes me more like the old you.” My emotions completely collapsed. I yanked out my IV, ignoring the nurse’s attempts to stop me, and rushed straight to Chloe’s hospital room. “Give it back!” Seeing me, Chloe smiled even more triumphantly. “Mrs. Hayes, Adrian gave this to me. Why should I return it to you?” I abandoned all dignity, my voice trembling. “Please, give it back to me… That’s the last thing my mother left me…” Seeing her unmoved, I gritted my teeth and offered my final condition. “As long as you return the watch, I’ll give you the position of Mrs. Hayes.” “Give it to me?” Chloe acted as if she’d heard the biggest joke. As soon as she finished speaking, the hospital room door opened. Adrian walked in with a dark expression, just in time to hear my last sentence. “Yulia, in your eyes, is my wife’s position so cheap? Not even worth an old trinket?” “No…” I explained frantically. “That’s my mother’s last keepsake!” “Mother?” He snatched the watch from Chloe’s hand. “Everything related to your parents should disappear!” With that, he strode to the window and raised his hand to throw the watch out. “No!” I screamed and lunged forward, trying to grab the watch back. In the struggle, I crashed into his body. The watch flew out the window, and I lost my balance and fell out too. “Yulia!” Adrian screamed, reaching out to catch me, but grasped only air. He rushed downstairs like a madman and picked me up from the pool of blood with trembling hands, his voice filled with unprecedented panic. “Yulia, wake up! Don’t you dare die!” In my fading consciousness, I seemed to see a flash of unprecedented fear and heartache in his eyes. In my dead heart, a tiny spark of hope somehow ignited again. But when I woke up in the hospital room again and heard the doctor report my multiple fractures, I saw Adrian standing just outside the door. He walked in and looked down at me from above. “Don’t think I’ll feel sorry for you. Keeping you alive is only to make you suffer more.” He paused, then declared word by word: “Between us, it’s fight to the death.” That last bit of hope was extinguished by his own hand. My heart died completely. I slowly closed my eyes and said softly. “Fine. Then I’ll go die.”

Yulia’s POV For the first time, I saw Adrian panic. All these years, he’d always been cold and cruel. I’d even thought he had no heart. Now he finally lost his composure for me, but unfortunately, it was too late. Adrian quickly left the hospital room because of something related to Chloe. As soon as he left, I pulled out my IV. No matter how much the doctor tried to persuade me, I insisted on checking myself out. I knew I was dying soon and needed to arrange my affairs first. I wanted to take a photo, buy a cemetery plot in the most scenic location, and have a custom music box made with all three of our names engraved on it. After I died, the music box would be buried with that family photo. Dragging my wounded body, I returned to that so-called “home.” As soon as I entered, a white figure pounced into my arms, tail wagging frantically. It was Snowball, the Samoyed that Adrian and I had raised for eight years. This dog was the last thing left between us. “Snowball…” I hugged it tightly, remembering how Adrian had once laughingly said we were “a family of three.” My eyes immediately stung with tears. I decided that before I died, I would find a good home for the aging Snowball. After contacting adopters, I was just about to leave with Snowball when Chloe blocked the doorway. “Where are you going?” Chloe walked in smiling, her gaze falling on Snowball. A flash of malice crossed her eyes. “This dog is the last thing you care about, isn’t it?” I didn’t want to waste words with her. I held Snowball tight and tried to walk around her. “Stop her!” At Chloe’s command, two bodyguards stepped forward to block my path. “What do you want?” I retreated warily. Chloe sneered and told the bodyguards. “Take that dog from her.” I desperately protected Snowball but was shoved aside by a bodyguard. My forehead hit the stair railing, and blood immediately flowed down. “Woof! Woof woof!” Seeing me hurt, Snowball struggled to pounce and bite, but a bodyguard grabbed a club and beat it to death, blow after blow. Snowball’s cries grew weaker and weaker until it lay motionless in a pool of blood. “No! Snowball!” I cried out and lunged toward its gradually cooling body. In the chaos, I knocked into Chloe. She tumbled down the stairs, blood soon seeping beneath her. Just then, the villa’s main door opened and Adrian walked in, witnessing this exact scene. He rushed over in a few strides and picked up Chloe. When he looked at me, his eyes were full of murderous intent. “Yulia! Why do you want to kill her too? Don’t you know she just had surgery!” I pointed at Snowball’s corpse, my voice hoarse. “She killed Snowball…” Adrian’s gaze swept over Snowball’s body and paused for an instant. Then he said something that froze all the blood in my body. “Good that it’s dead.” He said coldly. “Nothing that proves we were ever in love should remain.” That sentence completely destroyed me. So every trace of love between us should be erased in his eyes. I shook my head and laughed bitterly. “Fine.” I said only one word.

Yulia’s POV After hanging up the phone, I was locked in the villa’s storage room. This was Chloe’s idea. She said I had caused her to fall down the stairs and must be punished by staying in this lightless, waterless storage room for two days. Adrian agreed. He carried Chloe and rushed to the hospital. Before leaving, he ordered the bodyguards to comply. The storage room was dark and damp. I curled up in the corner, shivering from cold. The door opened and light streamed in. Chloe walked in and closed the door behind her. In the darkness, only the sound of her heels clicking on the floor remained. She crouched down, grabbed my chin, and forced me to look up. “Do you feel wronged?” Before she finished speaking, a slap landed hard on my face. A buzzing sound-the world went out of focus, sweetness exploded in my mouth. The blow knocked me sideways to the ground, but she shook her hand as if disgusted. “That slap was on behalf of Adrian.” She sneered and lifted her foot to grind down on the back of my hand. “Remember your place.” I lay on the ground dry heaving, unable to vomit anything, only physiological nausea and overwhelming despair. Chloe looked at my miserable state with satisfaction and turned to leave. The high fever and infected wounds gradually blurred my consciousness. In my daze, I felt a pair of strong arms lift me up. Someone gently wiped my face, applied medicine to my wounds, and gave me water and medication. That person leaned by my ear and called my nickname in a tone I’d never heard before-heartbroken and regretful. “Yulia… Yulia…” I didn’t dare open my eyes, afraid this was just a dream. But I knew in my heart that person was Adrian. In his heart, there was still a place for me. Just then, Adrian’s phone, left nearby, rang. He walked to the side to answer. It was Chloe calling. “Adrian, I think I’m pregnant! I haven’t had my period for over a month. We finally have our own child!” Chloe’s voice was bright, breathless with excitement. “I already picked out names. Adrian Jr. for a boy, Yulia Jr. for a girl. What do you think?” Adrian Jr. Yulia Jr. We’d chosen those names years ago, back when we were still in love and the future still felt ours. This memory cut through me like poison. Adrian was silent for a long time. Then, dazed, he answered. “Okay.” “I’ll come to the hospital right away.” After hanging up, he turned and met my open eyes on the bed. But he said nothing. He turned and walked out. The door closed. I slowly closed my eyes. He had new hope, a new family, a new future. And I could finally die. With nothing left to hold me here.

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I’d been in a long-distance relationship with my boyfriend Adrian for five years. Every night, he’d call me to satisfy his needs. Right before he came, his voice would always go thick and low. “Harper, I miss you so much it’s killing me…” The day before Valentine’s Day, I booked a flight home and hid in his closet to surprise him. When Adrian walked in, I was about to jump out. Then I watched him carry my best friend Chloe onto the bed. She straddled him, unbuttoning his shirt one button at a time, her voice syrupy and sweet. “Adrian, that idiot Harper still hasn’t figured out we’ve been together for five years. How boring is that?” “She’s begged you to marry her nineteen times. Why don’t we give her a surprise at our wedding next week?” I clutched the engagement ring in my palm. My mind went completely blank. Adrian’s hand slid under her dress, his voice lazy. “Why the rush? I already sent her to work in Scandinavia. You’re still worried?” Through the wooden slats, their shameless moans echoed in my ears. I curled up in the closet, my hand pressed over my mouth. My heart was already dead.

The two of them lay tangled and naked on what was supposed to be my wedding bed. Tears hit my phone screen. Right then, it lit up with a text from Adrian. “Harper, let’s not just call today. How about a video call?” Chloe glanced at the message and let out a cold, mocking laugh. “Adrian, you let her listen while we fuck, but now you wanna livestream it?” Adrian tugged her panties between his teeth, grinning. “Wanna bet whether she picks up?” Before I could react, Adrian’s video call came through. My hands trembling, I tapped the screen several times before finally hitting decline. One was a man who had once used his life to protect me in earthquake rubble. The other was a woman who had helped me when I faced school bullying. And now, they were having sex on my bed. The scene was too much. So much so that even after they’d gone through an entire box of condoms, I still couldn’t move. Adrian lit a cigarette and slowly turned his gaze toward the closet. Our eyes met. My heart felt like it was being crushed in someone’s fist. Adrian blew a smoke ring and smirked. “Harper, you into voyeurism now? How long are you planning to hide in there?” Chloe’s face went pale, and she dove under the covers in fright. Three seconds later, I stumbled out of the closet, my voice shaking uncontrollably. “I wanted to give you a surprise.” Adrian sat up leisurely and blew smoke directly in my face. “Surprise? The text notification for your flight booking came to my phone ages ago. What surprise could there possibly be?” He reached under Chloe’s dress and pulled out a wet bunny tail, tossing it at me. “Learn something. That’s what a surprise looks like.” I’d proposed to him nineteen times, each time coming up with different creative ways, all to repay him for saving my life. But now, all my efforts had become a joke. “Why? Why would you both do this to me…” Seeing my blank expression, Adrian said flatly. “What? Harper, you didn’t actually think you could have me all to yourself, did you? That’s pretty selfish.” “Besides, Chloe moans pretty loud every time I call you. You seriously never heard her?” So every time he told me he missed me, he was inside her. I couldn’t stop shaking. My stomach rolled with nausea. Chloe pulled on my nightgown and put it on slowly, smiling mockingly. “Harper, didn’t you always say you’d share everything with me? You’re so busy with work, I was kind enough to help Adrian with his physical needs. Shouldn’t you thank me?” I shoved her away violently and grabbed a photo frame, hurling it at her. “Get out! Both of you get out!” Ironically, the photo of Adrian and me in the frame had already been replaced with a picture of Chloe in a bikini. And every day Adrian would tell me that when he missed me, all he could do was look at my photo. Turns out he meant this kind of photo. A shriek rang out. Adrian didn’t hesitate to shield Chloe. The frame struck his temple, and blood immediately began streaming down. “Harper, can you stop being crazy? It’s not like I’m abandoning you.” “Not marrying you isn’t my fault. Have you really never looked in a mirror and faced what your background is?” “Chloe and I are just having a wedding ceremony. As long as you don’t make a scene, our relationship will never change.” I frantically grabbed everything within reach and threw it at them. “Relationship? What relationship? You want me to be the mistress?” “Get out! Both of you cheating scum, get out!” The door slammed with earth-shaking force. Looking at the chaos throughout the bedroom, I threw the engagement ring I’d been clutching out the window. Then, possessed by some strange impulse, I picked up a small piece of broken glass. Like I used to do when I was young, numbly I pressed it against my wrist and dragged it across.

All the love and hate flowed out along with my blood. In my daze, I remembered that afternoon seven years ago when the earth shook. The school building collapsed. I was trapped under a concrete slab, waiting to die in despair. But Adrian frantically dug through the rubble and pulled me out bit by bit with his blood-soaked hands. The aftershocks continued, and when a huge boulder fell toward us, he didn’t hesitate to throw himself over me, using his back to create a protective bridge. Debris rained down on his head, his back, his face, but he gritted his teeth and smiled at me. “Harper, don’t be afraid. As long as I’m here, you won’t die.” After that, he had a vicious scar on his back. I traced that scar with trembling fingers, sobbing uncontrollably. But he just smiled like a fool. “Why are you crying? This scar is proof that I love you.” And in high school, some girls cornered me in an alley. They called me a fatherless bastard and said they’d use box cutters to slash my seductive face. It was Chloe who charged in alone to protect me, pointing at them viciously. “You dare touch her? Just try it!” From that day on, Chloe walked to and from school with me. She told me so earnestly. “Harper, we’re going to be best friends for life.” When I woke up in the hospital, Adrian’s gaze fell on the crisscrossed scars on my wrist, and he sighed softly. “Harper, I always thought you were smart.” His voice was low, like he was stating something he’d known all along. “What’s so bad about staying by my side?” “You know your background. I could never possibly agree to marry you.” “All that talk about marrying you on the nineteenth proposal… I was just humoring you.” Ever since my father ran off with his mistress, my mother’s mental state had been unstable. And Adrian and Chloe both came from elite families. Whenever people gossiped about me behind my back, Adrian and Chloe would fiercely defend me. I often asked myself: what had I done to deserve such care from these prince and princess figures? Adrian paused, his eyes unreadable. “Harper, what exactly do you want? Money? Love? Medical resources for your mother? Or…” He leaned close, his voice sharp as a blade. “Do you want me to give you a child?” Motherhood securing status-it had always worked. But I used all my strength to slap him hard across the face. “I want you gone! Never let me see you again for the rest of my life!” Adrian froze for a moment. He slowly traced his cheek with his long fingers, then laughed, pressing his tongue against his back teeth. The hospital room door was pushed open again. Chloe walked in carrying a basket of mangoes, her laugh bright and deliberate. “Oh my, my dear best friend, playing hard to get again?” She walked to Adrian’s side, her eyes sliding past me. “Adrian got tired of that game seven years ago. It’s not appropriate to keep playing it now.” She began peeling a mango for me. But I’m allergic to mangoes. Chloe had known that from the day she met me. She deliberately showed off the dazzling diamond on her ring finger. Adrian had once said he would buy his future wife the biggest, most brilliant diamond ring. Remembering how I’d accidentally gouged a piece of flesh from my palm while crafting Adrian’s wedding ring, my heart throbbed with dense, sharp pain again. Chloe handed me the peeled mango. I raised my hand and slapped it to the floor. The juice stained her dress. Adrian’s eyes darkened immediately. “Harper, if you have a problem, take it out on me!” “Chloe’s been good enough to you! She doesn’t even mind me supporting you after we’re married! What more do you want?!” Chloe looked at me with wounded eyes. “Harper, do you really need to target me like this?” I was about to throw them out when two trending topics suddenly appeared on my phone. The first was the joyful news of a marriage alliance between the two elite families of Adrian and Chloe. But the second was a record of my seven-year romance with Adrian. The comments were full of people cursing Chloe for being a homewrecker who knew about me and pursued him anyway. Adrian’s usually unrestrained face suddenly turned dark. He ground out the words through clenched teeth. “Harper, you’re really despicable…”

But I hadn’t logged into any social media accounts since waking up. Chloe grabbed my wrist and screamed. “Harper! People live by their reputation! Are you trying to destroy me?!” “Adrian saved your life! I saved your face! Even your job in Scandinavia was through our connections! We don’t expect you to repay us, but how can you be so ungrateful?!” During the struggle, the wound on my wrist reopened. Blood dripped onto the sheets one drop at a time. But Adrian just looked at me with disappointed eyes. I took a deep breath and spoke slowly. “It wasn’t me.” But Adrian simply picked up my phone and unlocked it by entering his birthday-which he knew by heart. Then he pointed at a ten-thousand-dollar transfer record and demanded coldly. “If it wasn’t you, then what’s this?” He didn’t know that was money I’d advanced for my mother’s surgery. He threw the phone at me, shielded Chloe, and walked out. Half an hour later, Adrian posted his marriage certificate with Chloe on the official social media account of the Sterling Group. The date was seven years ago. The same day Adrian and I had made our relationship official. They’d gotten their marriage license. My heart hurt so much it went numb, yet I couldn’t shed a single tear. Public opinion reversed. Countless netizens cursed me for being a mistress trying to sabotage their marriage. My personal information was quickly exposed, my work email flooded with hate mail, and my social media inbox became a swamp of vile insults. More devastatingly, my supervisor in Scandinavia called to fire me directly. Adrian easily crushed everything I’d worked years to build. And the story of my father abandoning my mother years ago was endlessly magnified. “Harper’s dad didn’t want her mom, and Adrian doesn’t want her either. She and her mother are destined to be mistresses!” “And she proudly posted their chat records, thinking it would hurt Miss Morrison? What a clown!” “Disgusting. How does someone like that have the face to keep living? Harper and her mother should just die!” The class group chat exploded too. “Wasn’t Adrian’s girlfriend always Harper? How is Chloe the one he married?” “You don’t know? Adrian actually always liked Chloe. During that earthquake, he went to save people because he thought it was Chloe buried there!” “So Harper’s been a pathetic stalker for all these years? Wow, she’s been a mistress since her student days?” When I saw that message, I nearly collapsed. Just as I was about to fall, Chloe suddenly steadied me. She looked at my pale face and said with a cheerful smile. “Harper, do you know why Adrian pursued you?” She lowered her voice, enunciating each word. “Because I have certain… preferences.” “Adrian loves me too much, so he condescended to seduce you. Now that I’m bored with this game, it’s time for you to leave!” “Oh right, the day after tomorrow is my wedding with Adrian. My dear best friend, you absolutely must come.” As Chloe turned to leave, she deliberately slipped a pregnancy test into my hand. “The fruit of mine and Adrian’s love. Four months along.” My world collapsed. Adrian’s former devotion, those promises more moving than sweet nothings-it had all just been a game. Adrian’s call suddenly rang. But I didn’t answer. Soon he sent a text. “Harper, don’t believe what they’re saying in the group. After I marry her, I’ll explain everything.” I pressed my nails deep into my palm and typed. “When you called me ‘baby’… were you calling for her?” The other end went silent. The tears I’d held back for so long finally fell. I don’t know how long I stood in the cold wind. I wiped away my tears and dialed a number I hadn’t used in ages. “Mr. Hawthorne, I agree to join your polar research project. For the three years I’m gone, please take care of my mother.” The person on the other end agreed readily. “No problem. I’ll send a private jet for your mother right away.” The call ended, and immediately the phone rang with a call from my mother’s caregiver. “Miss Reed, something terrible has happened! Your mother’s in trouble!”

When I found my mother, she was being pinned to the ground by several caregivers, barely alive. Her back was already torn and bloody, yet she still stared fixedly at Chloe. “I’ll kill you!” Chloe had three bloody scratches on her face, clearly from my mother’s nails. She gripped the whip in her hand, saying through gritted teeth. “The wedding is tomorrow! How can I face people looking like this?” “You old hag! Ninety-nine lashes left! I’m going to beat you to death today!” Understanding what had happened, I immediately rushed forward to shield my mother. But the doctors had said for years that her condition was improving. Why would she suddenly lose control? Crack! The whip struck me hard. I cried out in pain. But Chloe looked down at me from above, smiling smugly. “Harper, your mother couldn’t compete with mine. And now you can’t compete with me either.” I froze. “What did you say?” My eyes fell on the family photo in her hand. My father-the one who’d abandoned his wife and child-had his arm lovingly around another woman’s waist. So Chloe’s mother was the mistress from back then! Chloe’s laughter echoed in my ears. “Serves you right! Who told your mom to call my mom a homewrecker back then! Now you’ve become the real mistress. I’ve finally avenged my mother!” “I’ll tell you the truth: the day you and Adrian made it official, I gave my permission. Adrian treats you slightly well and you’re willing to be a lapdog. You’ve never been loved before, have you? Pathetic.” “Now, either you take these ninety-nine lashes for this old hag, or you go live and tell the whole world that you and your mother are both mistresses.” Every word was like a poisoned needle stabbing into my deepest wounds. Rage surged to my head. I lunged at Chloe like a madwoman. But just as my fingers touched her sleeve, Adrian’s furious voice suddenly came from behind me. “Harper! Don’t you dare!” He kicked me violently aside, his eyes fixed on the sharp scissors on the ground. “Bitch! If you want to die, go die yourself! Don’t touch Chloe!” I held my bloodied mother, tears falling silently. Adrian hesitated slightly and instinctively moved to help me up. But Chloe stumbled into his arms, crying piteously. “Adrian, Harper said her mom’s crazy and won’t be punished for murder!” “I don’t matter if something happens to me, but the baby in my belly…” The trace of pity in Adrian’s eyes for me instantly vanished. The bodyguards immediately understood and grabbed the whip, lashing me viciously. Excruciating pain instantly engulfed my entire body. I screamed. But Adrian refused to look at me again. At that moment, my mother, who had been on the verge of death, suddenly shielded me tightly in her arms. Her cloudy eyes were full of tears as she whispered in my ear. “It’s my fault for being useless and letting you suffer so much. This time, let me protect you.” Hearing her breathing grow weaker and weaker, I cried and begged Adrian for help. “I’m sorry! I apologize! Please, please save my mom!” But no matter how much I pleaded, no one responded. My tears ran dry. The ninety-nine lashes were finished. When my mother went into shock from blood loss, Adrian finally walked out of the room. He finally spared me a glance. “A few lashes won’t kill you. Your current state is partly your mother’s fault! This should teach you both a lesson!” I wiped the blood from my lips. Through my tears, I began to laugh. “Adrian, I really wish I’d never met you in this lifetime.” Adrian stood up and let out a cold laugh. “Fine. Just don’t make a scene at the wedding. I’ll buy your mom a villa. You can live with us, or if it makes you uncomfortable, you can live next door.” I shook my head numbly. “No. We’re never seeing each other again.” “Suit yourself.” With that, Adrian lifted Chloe into his arms and headed straight for the hospital. On the wedding day, Adrian’s wedding procession got into a car accident. At the hospital, he spotted my mother’s caregiver walking out with luggage. Ignoring his own injuries, Adrian went up to her. “Where are you going? Aren’t you supposed to be taking care of Harper’s mother?” She looked at him like he was insane. “Are you out of your mind? Miss Reed’s mother’s funeral is today. You want me to take care of her in the grave?!”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “357930”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster #浪漫Romance #现实主义Realistic #重生Reborn #校园School