Author: Momo Chan

I’m very rich. My dad always says there’s no problem in this world that money can’t solve. And if there is, it just means you don’t have enough of it. But my boyfriend Damien Hayes is an exception. When I pick him up in my sports car, he complains I’m too flashy. When I take him to Michelin-starred restaurants, he says I’m wasteful. To “toughen me up,” he forces me to live like an ordinary student. For three years, I’ve worn thrift store clothes, squeezed onto subways with him, and eaten the cheapest meals on campus—only to face his endless criticism anyway. This time, to celebrate his scholarship award, I secretly booked a slightly nicer restaurant. I never expected him to publicly scold me for being “incorrigible.” When he threatens to break up with me yet again, demanding I apologize for the sake of his ridiculous pride, I’m exhausted. “Then let’s break up!” I say decisively. Hearing my response, Damien pauses mid-slice through his steak, then lets out a contemptuous laugh. “Vivian, are you serious?” He clearly doesn’t take my words seriously. After all, for three years, whenever we’ve disagreed over spending, it’s always ended with me compromising. I’ve cried while returning limited edition bags I just bought, sworn never to eat a meal costing over two hundred dollars again—all just to get him to take back that cold, dismissive “let’s break up.” But this time, I’m truly done. A while back, when the class president hinted that I’d be receiving financial aid for underprivileged students and told me not to worry, I suddenly realized what a joke I’d become. The heiress of the Hayes Group, reduced to dust for Damien’s sake. I lift my head and look him straight in the eye, repeating myself. “Damien, I’m serious. We’re breaking up.” A rare flash of confusion crosses Damien’s face. When he realizes what I’ve said, his voice turns ice-cold. “Because I won’t let you waste money? Because I criticized you a few times, you’re going to make a scene?” “Vivian, I made you take the subway and eat street food to cure you of your spoiled, privileged attitude—to teach you to be down-to-earth. Your attitude right now is extremely disappointing.” If this were before, hearing the word “disappointing” would have sent me into a panic. But now I just find it laughable. “Yes, I’m quite disappointing. Since that’s the case, let’s part on good terms. You can find a girlfriend who suits you better—everyone wins.” I think I’m being perfectly reasonable. Since our values don’t align, we might as well separate amicably. The designer watches and sneakers I’ve given him over the years were worth at least several million dollars, but I don’t plan to make an issue of it. Damien, however, turns red with anger and suddenly stands up. “I always thought you were just a bit spoiled. I never imagined you’d be so stubborn—now you’re actually threatening me with a breakup.” “I’m only saying this for your own good. Sure, your family has money, but did you earn a single cent of it? I’m teaching you not to squander your parents’ hard-earned money. If you had even one-tenth of Lydia’s frugality and simplicity, I wouldn’t have to lecture you constantly.” I can’t help but roll my eyes. He’s the one who brought up breaking up—I’m just agreeing—yet somehow I’m the one threatening him. I give him a cold look. “Since you think Lydia is so frugal and simple, why don’t you go after her? Why do we need to make things difficult for each other?” Lydia Monroe is Damien’s junior in his department. Ever since she enrolled, Damien has constantly compared me to her. Even taking me to street stalls and making me squeeze onto trains during rush hour were Lydia’s suggestions—supposedly to “help rid me of my extravagant airs.” I never wanted any of it. At the mention of Lydia, Damien reacts like a cat whose tail has been stepped on—he explodes. He grabs his backpack violently, scraping his chair with a harsh screech that makes several nearby diners turn to look. “Vivian, you’re completely unreasonable!” “Think about what you’ve done over this meal. When you’ve written a five-thousand-word reflection and recognized your own vanity, then come find me.” With that, he storms off without looking back. This is the first time I’ve seen Damien this angry. He’s known on campus as the aloof genius student, while I’m the airheaded rich girl with no brains. Back then, it was only because my dad donated a building to the school that I got in through the back door. When I first arrived on campus, all I wanted was a sweet romance, and I happened to set my sights on Damien in the crowd. We’re supposedly dating, yet he criticizes everything about me. I feel wronged too—it’s not my fault my family has money, and being born wealthy is a gift from my parents. But he treats it like original sin, constantly belittling and suppressing me. For three years, I’ve walked on eggshells around him, terrified of accidentally displaying wealth and upsetting him. I thought his noble disdain for money was a rare quality. Now I see clearly—it’s just arrogance born from extreme insecurity. By attacking my lifestyle, he gains a sense of psychological superiority. I’ve had enough of this. I pull out my phone and send my dad a message on SnapChat. “Dad, about that suggestion from before—I agree.” For three years, I’ve fought with my dad constantly over Damien. A while back, Dad carefully asked if I wanted to meet the Shaw family’s son who’d returned from abroad, saying he’d decline if I didn’t want to. Back then, I was all about freedom in love. Looking back now, I was adorably stupid. Rather than lowering myself and still being criticized constantly, I might as well find someone from a matching background—at least we’d share the same values and wouldn’t fight over a few hundred dollars for a meal.

My dad’s efficiency is terrifying. Early the next morning, I receive detailed information about Austin Shaw, along with an invitation to a charity gala. Immediately after, my banking app pings with a deposit notification. A string of zeros so long I can’t count them, with Dad’s message simple and direct: Buy whatever you want. Having shed the mental burden named “Damien,” the first thing I do is call the housekeeper and point to my closet full of pilled hoodies and nine-dollar jeans bought in bulk—all “high-value purchases” Damien forced me to buy over three years to “build my character.” “Throw it all away.” For three years, Damien subjected me to comprehensive “poverty transformation.” If I wore anything slightly expensive, he called me “materialistic.” If I put on makeup, he said I looked “gaudy.” Even when I took a cab to school, he’d furrow his brow and say with pained disappointment that I was “spoiled.” Afraid of making him angry, I tried to please him constantly, forcibly transforming myself from “Miss Hayes” into a “poverty case student.” But now? This young lady is done serving him. I change into a limited-edition Chanel suit and put on the sapphire necklace that’s been gathering dust in my jewelry box for three years. Looking at my radiant reflection in the mirror, I smile with satisfaction. After three years, the pink sports car I’d left to collect dust in the garage finally sees daylight again. The roar of the engine explodes at the school gate, instantly drawing countless eyes. “Vivian!” It’s Damien! My heart jumps and I want to flee. In the past, whenever I displayed wealth, Damien would punish me with thousand-word essays or give me the cold shoulder for days. But then I think—we’ve broken up. Why should I fear him? While I’m hesitating, Damien has already strode over, with Lydia following behind him, struggling under an armful of books and gasping for breath. His gaze sweeps over my eye-catching car and outfit, as if I’m some bloodsucking capitalist exploiter. “Are you insane? Dressed like this, driving this kind of car to school?” “Everyone walks or bikes here, and you show up in this thing—afraid people won’t know you have money? This behavior will corrupt the school atmosphere!” I almost laugh with anger. Just as I’m about to retort, I catch sight of Lydia behind him. “I didn’t steal or rob anyone. What do I have to fear?” I raise an eyebrow and look pointedly at the two of them. “The school rules don’t forbid dating, and they don’t forbid driving to school, right?” Hearing this, Damien’s face darkens further. “What are you talking about?!” Lydia also peeks out from behind her stack of books, looking timid. “You’ve misunderstood. He was just helping me because the books were too heavy… I didn’t expect you’d think that.” “Have you made enough of a scene?” He suddenly reaches out and grabs my wrist, his grip so tight it feels like he’ll crush my bones. “Since we’ve run into each other, help Lydia carry these books to the office and cure yourself of that lazy disease!” My wrist throbs with pain. I struggle desperately. “I won’t! Damien, let go! We’ve already broken up—why should I listen to you?!”

“Vivian, this is an order! I’m the student council president, which gives me the authority to correct this kind of toxic behavior!” Damien doesn’t relent at my resistance. Instead, he adopts an official tone and tries to force the heavy stack of books into my arms. I shake off his hand and rub my reddened wrist, letting out a cold laugh without holding back. “Student council president? Damien, do you really think you became president on your own merit?” “If my dad hadn’t spoken to the administration and donated fifty million dollars, how could someone with your abilities back then have beaten all those more qualified candidates for the position?” Damien’s face turns deathly pale, as if he’s been slapped in public. His lips tremble but before he can respond— Lydia suddenly rushes forward like she’s lost her mind. “Shut up! Don’t you dare slander him like that!” Before I can react, she shoves me hard. Completely unprepared and standing in stilettos, I lose my balance and fall heavily onto the concrete. “Ah—” A burning pain shoots through my palms instantly. Looking down, I see my hands scraped raw against the rough pavement, blood and grit oozing out—it hurts like hell. The sapphire necklace falls to the ground, and Lydia steps on it. Before I can get up, she’s already spoken first. Looking down at me from above, a flash of gloating crosses her eyes, but her voice carries a sob as she shouts. “Vivian! How can you do this? You’re the one who changed your heart, yet you’re publicly destroying his reputation!” She points at my pink sports car and designer outfit behind me, her voice shrill and piercing, as if passing righteous judgment on me. “Everyone, judge for yourselves! Vivian used to only eat the cheapest food in the cafeteria—how could she suddenly afford a sports car worth hundreds of thousands overnight?” “Where did this money come from? Don’t you know in your heart? Do I need to tell everyone that you found yourself a sugar daddy?” “Damien just doesn’t want to watch you fall into degradation. He’s been trying to bring you back to the right path, but not only are you ungrateful—you’re biting back for the sake of temporary vanity!” This information bomb makes the crowd of onlookers explode instantly. Those curious gazes immediately turn to contempt, and whispers buzz in my ears like flies. “Oh my god, so she’s being kept…” “I knew it. How could someone who normally wears thrift store clothes suddenly get rich? She went that route.” “So shameless, showing off at the school gate. Her parents must be mortified.” Public opinion instantly shifts. Everyone believes Lydia’s lies. I’m shaking with anger, my nails digging into my flesh, but I can’t feel the pain. I can only stare at Damien. He’s the only person here who knows my true identity. Even if we’ve broken up, even if he hates me, as long as he tells the truth, this ridiculous rumor will fall apart. “Damien, say something!” I demand through clenched teeth, my eyes reddening. “Tell them—is my money dirty or not? Did I become like this for vanity?” Damien looks at me sitting disheveled on the ground, a flash of complicated struggle in his eyes. But he glances at the watching students around us, then at Lydia, who “defended him” by stepping forward. In the end, the shame of being exposed for riding a woman’s coattails defeats his conscience. He supports the “swaying” Lydia and sighs with seeming heartbreak, looking utterly disappointed in me. “Vivian, Lydia’s words may be crude, but she’s not wrong. Vanity is the most terrible poison in this world.” “Although we’ve broken up, I really don’t want to see you selling your soul and body for material things, making yourself so dirty.” “Take my advice—return the car, break it off with that person. It’s not too late to turn back now.”

In that moment, I can’t believe what I’m hearing. To protect his pitiful pride, he’s actually endorsing this despicable accusation and even pretending to care while labeling me as “kept.” With the student council president’s “personal confirmation,” the surrounding gazes completely change. Disgust, contempt, revulsion—as if looking at repulsive trash. “Quick, take photos and post them to the forum as a warning. This kind of person is a disgrace to our school!” Someone shouts, and several phones are shoved in my face, camera flashes blinding me. Some even start livestreaming, broadcasting to their viewers. “Everyone, look! This is the ‘luxury car girl’ who became some old man’s mistress for money. Her ex-boyfriend just exposed her and she even tried to hit people!” “People like this should be expelled! Absolutely disgusting!” Sitting on the ground, hearing words like “fallen,” “gold digger,” and “escort” pelting me like stones, I feel utterly absurd. Some people even rush forward trying to grab at me. “What are you all doing?! This looks like a riot!” A commanding shout cuts through the crowd. The watching students freeze as if someone hit pause, automatically parting to make way. The Dean of Students, face dark and hands behind his back, strides in. Seeing me disheveled on the ground and that eye-catching pink sports car, his brow furrows into a tight knot. “What’s going on? Who brought this kind of social pollution onto campus?” Before I can speak, Lydia, like a frightened little rabbit with red-rimmed eyes, rushes to report first. “Dean, thank goodness you’re here. She… she’s brought such disgrace to our school.” While speaking, she subtly points out my sports car to the dean. “Vivian, in her greed for pleasure, was not only kept by some old man off-campus—she brazenly drove this filthy car onto campus to show off.” “When Damien kindly advised her to reform, she not only refused to listen but tried to attack people.” This bucket of dirty water is poured flawlessly. It both confirms my “kept woman” status and clears herself and Damien completely. The dean’s face instantly turns black as a pot, his disgusted gaze cutting into me like knives. “Kept? Absolutely scandalous!” Ignoring the pain in my palms, I struggle up from the ground. “I wasn’t! This car was bought by my father, the money came from my family—there’s no old man at all!” “Lydia, you open your mouth and destroy someone’s reputation—where’s your proof?” I stare at her, trying to break free from this absurd accusation. But the surrounding crowd erupts in mocking laughter. “From your family? Vivian, at least make your lies believable.” “Exactly. Everyone knows you’ll argue with the cafeteria lady for half an hour over five dollars.” “If you were really a rich kid, would you wear thrift store hand-me-downs? Would you beg the class president for a few hundred dollars in financial aid?” The voices of doubt grow louder and louder. In their eyes, poverty is the brand I’ve worn for three years. The dean, hearing this, dismisses his last shred of doubt. He points at my nose, his finger trembling with anger. “Well, well! A century-old prestigious school has produced such a shameless student!” “Selling your body for vanity, showing no remorse, and openly promoting materialism at the school gate!” “Keeping this bad apple would be an insult to other students!” I’m freezing cold all over, desperately trying to explain. “I really didn’t—you can check my bank accounts…” “Enough! No need to check!” The dean waves his hand, impatiently cutting me off. “Everyone says so—could they all be wrong about you?” “Notify your parents. Get this eyesore of a car out of here immediately and pack your things!” “For the school’s reputation—Vivian, you’re expelled!”

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After half an hour of sex, Torres handed me a birth control pill, as usual. “Take it now. Don’t cause me any trouble.” I took it and swallowed it skillfully. “This is the 150th time. You promised that after I took 150 pills, you’d marry me.” He looked surprised, then seemed to remember something. He lifted my chin with his fingertip. His tone was frivolous. “Vivian, how can you take pillow talk seriously? Anna’s coming back from abroad today. Pack your things and move out. I don’t want her to see any trace of you.” After he left, I sat on the edge of the bed in silence for a long time. Finally, I set his villa on fire. Didn’t he want to erase all traces of me? Then I’d make it completely clean. Three years ago, Torres offered Anna 1.5 million dollars in cash to make her stay, but she rejected him firmly. “Get lost! Who wants your dirty money?” She turned and ran. I took the initiative to approach him. “That money… can you give it to me? I look seventy percent like her. You can think of me as her.” He looked down at me, a playful smile appearing on his face. “Sure.” That night, I slept with him. Afterwards, he handed me a birth control pill from the drawer. “Take it. After you take 150 of these, I’ll marry you.” I didn’t take his words to heart. I took the 1.5 million that Anna didn’t want and went to the hospital to pay my mom’s medical bills. My anxious heart found a lifeline, and I felt slightly at ease. Anna was my half-sister, not much younger than me. To be precise, her mother was the mistress. My mom couldn’t bear my dad’s betrayal and ended the marriage with her own hands. I was only eight years old then, and I took my mother’s surname. Three years ago, my mom was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. The exorbitant medical costs forced me to beg my dad for help. He refused. “I have money, but I don’t owe her anything.” Then he turned around and publicly bid twenty million dollars for an agate necklace for his mistress-turned-wife. Twenty million—enough to save my mom hundreds of times over… When I was desperate, Anna and Torres happened to have a fight. In her anger, she went abroad and cut off contact with him. I seized the opportunity to take her place and secure a lifeline for my mom. That evening, I woke up in the hospital. The TV was broadcasting news about Torres going to the airport to pick up his first love, Anna. The nurse changing my IV smiled and said to me, “The CEO of TR Group is quite devoted. Three years have passed, and he still can’t forget his first love!” I didn’t respond. My heart felt like it had been stabbed with a blade. The pain spread from my chest outward. Initially, I got together with Torres only for his money. I couldn’t say I had any feelings for him. The first time my heart fluttered was when he prepared a birthday party for me. From age one to twenty-two, he had prepared every year’s birthday gift for me. “Vivian, all the birthday presents you never received in the past, I’m making up for them all at once.” Since I could remember, my parents had been locked in endless arguments, tearing our family apart. I’d never had a proper birthday, let alone birthday gifts. The second time my heart fluttered was when I had a high fever of 103.1°F. Torres put down a twenty-million-dollar deal and flew over ten hours on his private jet from abroad to be by my side. “I don’t trust them to take care of you.” He barely slept for three days and nights. Only after my fever broke did he collapse beside my bed and fall into a deep sleep. The last time I fell for him was when I’d fallen asleep exhausted. He helped my mom to the bathroom. Torres showed no disgust and was extremely patient. “Ma’am, Vivian is my girlfriend. It’s only right that I take care of you.” I thought Torres loved me too. Over the years, we became more and more compatible in bed. He no longer mentioned Anna in his sleep but whispered my name instead—Vivian. I thought I’d won, but I ended up losing completely.

Torres called me. He said casually, “Vivian, I told you to take all your stuff away. What do you mean by burning down my villa? Is this because you’re jealous?” He had countless villas, so naturally he wouldn’t care about that one. I remained silent. “Tonight is Anna’s welcome party. She said she wants to see you walk in a fashion show. I’ve already sent a driver to pick you up. Get changed and come over right away.” Just as I was about to refuse, he hung up. The driver arrived at my hospital room door just in time. “These are the clothes Torres prepared for you. Please come with me.” In his hands was the latest model of bikini. I froze. I remembered three years ago—to scrape together money for my mom’s treatment, I worked part-time as a car model and bikini brand model. What’s more, some bosses would specifically request me for photo shoots. For a few measly dollars, I had to endure their contemptuous and greedy gazes. That lasted until I accepted Torres’s help. “From now on, you belong to me. Don’t go showing yourself off or doing any more modeling.” Now, just because of one sentence from Anna, he’d shattered the illusion of his love for me that I’d held for years… I was about to refuse when I received a message from Torres: [Only my friend can perform your mother’s surgery. If you don’t want her to have an accident, behave and do as you’re told.] At the party, I wore the newest bikini in the freezing cold weather, shivering all over, my hands and feet stiff. Below the stage, Torres had his arm around Anna, playfully tapping her nose, looking at me like I was a pet. “Does it look good?” She showed a satisfied smile. “It looks great.” Torres’s friends also cast greedy glances at me, joking, “We really have Anna to thank for the chance to see Vivian like this!” “Exactly! Torres has been protecting her so tightly. If we looked at her twice, his expression alone would eat us alive!” Torres laughed carelessly. “When did that happen? Vivian and I are just friends. The only person I’ve ever loved is Anna.” He pulled her closer into his embrace. Anna scoffed too. “My sister still doesn’t have a boyfriend! If you guys like her, go ahead and pursue her!” A barely noticeable flash of discomfort crossed Torres’s face, but it vanished instantly. He also laughed along. “Right, if you like her, go pursue her.” I ran a fever for three days and nights. My consciousness drifted in and out. I grabbed my phone and weakly called Torres. “Hello? *cough cough* Can you take me to the hospital?” His impatient voice came through. “Vivian, what tricks are you playing now? Such a hassle.” “What’s wrong, Torres?” Anna asked from the other end. Torres replied casually, “Nothing. Spam call. Keep picking out dresses. Your solo dance performance is coming up soon. Don’t get distracted.” He hung up, and I passed out. I don’t know how long passed before someone gently picked me up, murmuring, “What’s going on? Can’t live without me?” “To the hospital.” Torres instructed. The driver laughed. “Torres, you still can’t let go of Vivian, can you? You seem pretty anxious to me.” Torres’s sharp brows furrowed. “Don’t talk nonsense. Anna said she wants to move into this house. I came ahead to arrange for someone to clean it. I was worried about dust, and I didn’t expect Vivian to be here too. Now not only do we need to clean thoroughly, but we also need to deep clean everything from inside out and throw away everything that should be thrown away. I’m worried Anna might be a germaphobe.” I opened my eyes slightly and watched him, his expression cold, chin resting on his hand, lost in thought as he looked out the window. I found it hard to reconcile him with the Torres from before. He seemed to see through my thoughts and said in a low voice, “Are you wondering why I’m different from before?” He sneered. “Ha, don’t forget—you’re the one who told me to treat you as Anna. I’m just doing what you asked.” “I didn’t expect you’d fall so deep yourself and trap yourself.” My pupils constricted. Those initial words became a bullet, piercing through my forehead…

During my hospital stay, my condition worsened and showed no signs of improvement. The day I was diagnosed with liver cancer, the doctor’s expression was grave. “Don’t you know the consequences of taking birth control pills?” I lowered my eyes without speaking. Of course I knew. But I was gambling—gambling on Torres’s sincerity. Unfortunately, I lost the bet. He never loved me, not even for a second. The first person to learn about my liver cancer was my best college roommate, Wesley. She came to my hospital room, her face paler than mine, her voice trembling, with a heavy nasal tone. “Vivian, you deserve this!” I had no emotional reaction. She was right. I was the one who ignored everyone’s warnings and stubbornly gambled with so-called love for sincerity. “I’m sorry…” Her tears fell in streams, sliding down her face and dripping onto the floor. “You used to be selfish and unscrupulous for money. How did one Torres turn you into this?!” “Does he know you have this disease?” I shook my head. Wesley bit her lip, her nose also turning sour. “No way. I’m going to settle accounts with him! What kind of man is he?!” I used my last bit of strength to grasp her wrist and begged her, “Don’t go! Only his friend can cure my mom’s illness…” She looked at me with disappointment and let out a heavy sigh. A few days later, Torres called me for the first time since I was hospitalized. “Vivian, don’t you have a friend named Wesley who works at the Dance Association?” I hummed in acknowledgment. Relief came through the phone. “That’s good. Ask your friend to pull some strings and get Anna into the Dance Association.” His commanding tone—I was used to it. Wesley beside me cursed, “Torres, what the hell are you?! Do you know Vivian is dy—” Before the word “dying” could leave her mouth, I hung up the phone. “What are you doing?! Vivian!” I sniffled. “Help me this one last time. He’s given me so much. I don’t want to owe him any favors.” She pressed her lips together, which meant she agreed. I didn’t want to waste my final days in the hospital, so I rented a place and grew some flowers and plants. For Torres to find my new address was just a matter of words, so when he knocked on my door, I wasn’t surprised. As soon as he entered, he picked me up and pressed me against the shoe cabinet. His wet kisses fell on my neck. I struggled desperately, but he held me tighter. When he tired of kissing, he released me and frowned slightly. “You’ve lost weight, Vivian.” I pulled a wet wipe from the shoe cabinet and gently wiped away where he’d kissed. A flash of displeasure crossed his brow, but in the end he said nothing. “What do you want? Where’s Anna?” I asked him. Torres walked toward the inner room like he was entering his own home, saying casually, “She’s on her period these past few days. I can’t hold back.” “What do you have to eat? Make me something. I’m starving.” I’d never refused him. From the moment he gave me money, I’d served him like a deity, whether in bed or in daily life. But I was too tired now. I felt exhausted even doing nothing. “There’s nothing to eat. This isn’t a restaurant.” Torres looked at me in surprise and scoffed. “So you’re throwing a tantrum now?” I said calmly, “I’m not throwing a tantrum.” “Fine, but your mother’s surgery…” “I’ll do it.” I interrupted him and walked to the kitchen. A few minutes later, a bowl of steaming seafood noodles sat on the table. Torres was satisfied. “So you can cook. How pretentious.” A full belly breeds lust. After eating, he pulled me into his arms and buried his head in my neck. “Sleep with me a few more times, okay?” I felt nauseated. “Ugh!” Then I actually vomited. Torres just felt his mood was ruined. He frowned. “Unlucky. Forget it.” He grabbed his coat and slammed the door on his way out.

On the day of my mother’s surgery, the hospital issued a critical condition notice. When I received the call, my mind went blank. When I rushed to the hospital, I learned that the doctor performing my mom’s surgery had been intercepted halfway by Anna and turned around to treat her mother instead, causing my mom to miss her surgery window. I called Torres and demanded to know why things had gone wrong. He actually said, “Your mom is just like you—a mistress. She deserves to die.” “I’m in Anna’s mother’s hospital room right now. Anna is unfortunate to have a sister like you. Back then, your mom insisted on marrying your dad and interfering with his relationship with her mom. It’s only fitting that she’s ended up like this.” I begged him humbly, “Torres, for the sake of the years we’ve been together, please send the doctor over quickly… My mom really can’t wait any longer…” He sneered and hung up. The only light in my life went out. The remaining doctors were doing their best to save my mom, but they still came out every few minutes to tell me. “The situation isn’t optimistic…” Four hours later, the operating room lights finally went out. My mom was wheeled out, a white cloth covering her face, peaceful as still water. Just then, the phone rang. It was Anna. She said mockingly, “Vivian, your mom died, didn’t she? You and your mom are equally despicable. For money, you rush to seduce men. You deserve this ending.” “Remember, from now on, don’t covet things that don’t belong to you.” The call ended, and the last string in my heart snapped. She didn’t know yet that I had evidence of her betraying Torres years ago and getting pregnant with someone else’s child. With a cold face, I sent all the videos, pictures, and other materials to Torres. Torres had severe mental cleanliness issues. When he received the information, his fingertips trembled. Anna wrapped her arms around his waist, her voice dripping with sweetness. “Torres, thank you for saving my mom.” When she met his sinister eyes, an ominous premonition surged in her heart. “What… what’s wrong, Torres?” Torres turned his phone around, his face dark. “You’d better explain to me clearly whose child this is.” Anna looked puzzled and focused her eyes. Her face instantly turned pale. Due to extreme fear, her speech became incoherent. “Torres, let me explain…” He pushed her away and grabbed her wrist. The force was so strong that she screamed in pain. Torres’s voice was frighteningly cold. “I’m asking you, whose child is it?” Anna knew that even if she covered it up, Torres would use every means to find out the truth. She simply came clean. “Your friend, Carter’s.” When the name Carter came out, Torres exploded with rage. He slapped Anna hard across the face. “Do you know? Back then, he almost caused our family to go bankrupt…” The past unfolded like a scroll before Torres’s eyes. Anna frantically threw everything within reach at Torres. “Heartless bastard! I called you so many times. Why didn’t you answer?!” He gripped her hands tightly and said helplessly, “I’ve told you countless times, I was in a meeting, a very important meeting. Why do you call over and over again to disturb me?!” Anna continued to be unreasonable. “Haha, so you used to answer my calls no matter what, but now you can’t? Once you’ve got what you want, you don’t treasure it anymore, is that it? Fine, I’m leaving.” He didn’t notice that Anna took his company’s USB drive. No wonder their product information appeared in Carter’s company’s presentation a few days later. He’d humbled himself to keep her, given her money, even knelt before her, but still couldn’t win her back. She’d betrayed him all along…

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At my twenty-fourth birthday party, I simply offered Marta—the impoverished student my fiancé Andre had been sponsoring—a glass of wine, and she miscarried. That day, I discovered they’d been having an affair all along. I insisted on breaking off the engagement. Andre knelt before me, begging for forgiveness. Under our parents’ mediation, considering the five billion dollar partnership between our families, I compromised. But unexpectedly, three days after the wedding, he got into a car accident that supposedly caused sexual dysfunction. To save his dignity, I had to lie to everyone that I was childfree by choice, claiming I didn’t want children. Four years later, on an international reality show, I saw Andre playing games with a little boy. It turned out Andre had secretly had a child with Marta long ago. For four years, he’d been lying about his sexual dysfunction all along. In that case, this arranged marriage partner could get lost. I burst into his office intending to confront him, only to accidentally overhear him talking with a friend. “To punish her for that one glass of wine she gave Marta, you actually faked a car accident and didn’t touch her for four years. That’s really something.” Andre lounged lazily in his executive chair, sneering coldly, “Who told her to cause Marta’s miscarriage back then? This is her lesson.” “Eventually when Marta’s son grows up, I’m considering bringing him back and having him acknowledge her as his mother. She’ll get a free son that way—she should be satisfied with that.” The conversation inside continued, “Andre, actually Kingsley’s been pretty good to you. A pampered princess, searching everywhere for famous doctors on your behalf.” “Isn’t treating her this way a bit harsh?” Andre’s mocking laughter rang out, “This is the price she pays for hurting Marta.” “So what if she’s a rich heiress? Does that mean she can bully Marta? I’m just making her taste the bitterness others have suffered, so she won’t spend her whole life bullying people.” His friend sighed, “Andre, aren’t you afraid she’ll find out the truth and make a huge scene about divorcing you?” Andre’s gaze immediately sharpened, “You didn’t soften up and tell her, did you?” His friend shook his head, helplessly lowering his head to sip his tea. Andre’s cold voice continued, “I promised Marta I’d never touch Kingsley for the rest of my life, and that Marta’s child would be my only heir. I can’t disappoint her.” Andre’s tone was full of warning, terrified of leaking even a bit of information, worried his scheme would fail and make his dear Marta sad and upset. I couldn’t help thinking of those humiliating nights, when I’d actively climb on top of him, imitating methods from porn videos to stimulate him. What an effort it must have been for him—face flushed red, holding it in, forcibly suppressing his desire. I stood there humiliated, listening to the conversation inside, my heart pierced by thousands of icy swords. I wiped away my tears, turned and left, canceling the appointment I’d made for Andre with a British specialist. The other end still asked in confusion what happened.

That evening when Andre came home, I almost couldn’t control myself from rushing over to tear him apart. I wanted to demand why he’d deceived me like this. Was it really all because I gave Marta a glass of fruit wine? For four whole years, the torment I endured—from grief to worry, even preparing myself to spend a lifetime in celibacy with him—but in the end it was all just a joke. I watched Andre walk calmly into the living room, pull me into his embrace, then kiss my forehead, “Kingsley, tonight you can try those new techniques you learned. Who knows, maybe they’ll work.” I stared hard at Andre, wanting to see if there was even a trace of guilt or anxiety on his face. Finally I bit down hard and nodded, “Alright!” That night, Andre washed up and lay naked on the bed, while I put on lingerie at his request. He raised an eyebrow, signaling me to get on top. I laughed coldly, carefully studying his expression. Following his line of sight, I finally discovered something suspicious. On the huge wedding photo opposite the bed, there was a faint gleam of light at his eyes. I instantly understood why he’d been willing to try countless times. Before I could react, Andre grabbed me and pushed me down. Thinking about the unknown person behind that miniature camera, I couldn’t help feeling a wave of nausea, and with a “blech” I vomited, spraying it all over Andre. Andre immediately frowned in disgust and shoved me away, jumping off the bed. “Kingsley, if you find me repulsive just say so. No need to disgust me like this.” “Starting today, you sleep in the guest room. No need to force yourself anymore.” If this were any other time, I would have patiently coaxed him, then once again willingly tried, enduring the humiliation of serving him. But this time, I just silently stood up, looked at him coldly, said “Fine,” and turned to leave. Andre froze, then with a crash, a teacup smashed to the floor, “Kingsley, I knew your feelings for me weren’t genuine. It’s only been four years and you already find me disgusting, don’t you?” My figure paused. I turned back and looked at him with self-mockery, “Andre, don’t you find this disgusting?” Andre looked at the seemingly knowing expression on my face and couldn’t help freezing. All his angry rebukes instantly stuck on his face, his eyes guiltily avoiding mine, “Kingsley, what are you talking about? We’re a loving married couple—what’s disgusting about that?” I slammed the door shut with a bang, not wanting to look at him for another second. That once cool and noble bearing now seemed nothing but sleazy and shameless. The next day, while he was at work, I decisively hired a private investigator. When the private investigator placed the investigated information and videos before me, I instantly collapsed into my chair. At that moment, I wanted to take a knife and chop him to pieces. Andre, how could you be so deceitful? Aren’t you afraid of going to hell? Since that’s the case, the evil you’ve committed, I will certainly repay double.

I holed up at home for three whole days, unable to face those videos. Even more afraid to imagine how many people had watched them. When Andre came home, he found me sitting by the window, drunk. He walked over and held me in his arms with a sigh, “Kingsley, I’m sorry. Did someone spread rumors again? If you can’t take it anymore, let’s just get divorced.” He looked so pained, so devoted. I calmly pushed him away, staring hard into his eyes, wanting to see even a fraction of genuine pain, wanting to see if all my efforts over these years had been worth even a little. “Andre, I didn’t do anything wrong. Why are you treating me this way?” Andre’s whole body froze, then his eyes reddened with grievance, “Kingsley, I can understand if you find me disgusting, but I really don’t want to leave you.” With that, he hugged me and started crying. At that moment, I seemed to see the Andre from ten years ago. Back then, he’d follow me around all day calling me baby, delivering the finest pastries to my hands. He’d even carry me on his back all the way up the mountain when we went hiking. Under the brilliant starlight, the young man’s eyes shone brighter than the stars as he gripped my hand tightly, “Kingsley, I never want to leave you in this lifetime. Let’s be together forever, okay?” Back then, I thought we’d have a forever future. Until Andre and I went traveling in the mountains and encountered fourteen-year-old Marta. She was being pressed to the ground by several men and lifted onto a three-wheeled cart. She knelt on the ground struggling desperately, pleading, “Dad, please don’t give me to someone else. I can chop firewood in the mountains, work the fields—I can earn money.” Tears mixed with dust smeared across her dark face, her hair tangled in a disheveled mess on her head. From the surrounding people’s discussions, I learned that her father wanted to sell her to a fifty-year-old man for money to build a house. I immediately felt compassion, rebuked those people, and protected her. Finally, after an argument, Andre gave all our travel money to Marta’s father, saved her, and promised to sponsor her education going forward. Who knew that after graduating from college, Marta would seek out Andre directly and stay by his side as his assistant. She played the victim at every turn, acting meek and timid in front of me, as if I’d bullied her. Andre told me more than once that Marta was timid, that I shouldn’t be too forceful when talking to her, to be more gentle. I thought she was just naturally unable to handle social situations. I never expected she was deliberately digging traps for me. Until my birthday that day, when I kindly handed her a glass of fruit wine, “Marta, let me introduce you to some friends. Play with them from now on.” Unexpectedly, after just two sips, she clutched her stomach and accused me of forcing her to drink, deliberately harming her. She cried hysterically, collapsed in Andre’s arms clutching her stomach. That day, Andre looked at me with eyes like poisoned arrows. In the end he said nothing, just rushed to the hospital carrying Marta. That day I was furious too, had a huge fight with Andre, demanding to break off the engagement. Finally, after his pleading and both sets of parents’ mediation, I naively thought the matter would just pass. But I never expected that the seed of resentment had already been planted. Andre became convinced I’d deliberately killed the child, and began using a lifetime to punish me. I coldly raised my hand to touch his head, laughing mockingly, “Andre, if I made you choose between me and Marta, who would you be unable to bear leaving?” Panic immediately flashed through Andre’s eyes, “Kingsley, why bring her up out of nowhere? Did someone tell you something?” “I haven’t been in contact with her for ages. Don’t overthink it.” I lowered my eyes to wipe away tears, rising indifferently, “Nobody said anything.” “I’m just feeling sentimental. If I hadn’t given Marta that glass of fruit wine back then, perhaps your child would be four years old by now.” Andre’s expression grew visibly tense, his spine stiffening involuntarily as he blurted out, “Kingsley, how could I possibly have a child with another woman?” I laughed mockingly, supporting myself as I slowly walked toward the bedroom, clutching the message Marta had just sent me, “Kingsley, you know what Andre says about you? That high and mighty woman isn’t even as good as a whore.” “Oh, and to prove his devotion to me, Andre specifically video-called me every time you stripped naked to seduce him. I figured I shouldn’t let it go to waste, so I did a live stream. Over a million fans watched—everyone praised how slutty you are.” Andre, if you betray me, I will never let it rest. I’ll make you face retribution.

I silently deleted all the messages, neither confronting him nor shouting. Because I knew that if shouting could solve problems, the rulers of this world wouldn’t be tigers—they’d be donkeys. Our families’ five-year project was successfully completed. I specially chose Blueberry Manor, inviting all relatives, friends, and business partners to celebrate together. That day, I specifically prepared a big gift for Andre. He even asked teasingly what I’d prepared. Was it a set of lingerie, or had I learned some new tricks? I just smiled and told him it would be something he’d never forget for the rest of his life. The crystal chandelier at the partnership celebration banquet illuminated the entire venue filled with clinking glasses. Andre took my hand as we walked onto the stage. As fireworks burst above our heads, they represented the successful partnership between our families. I smiled and accepted the contract, securing the benefits that belonged to my family. As applause thundered, I took the microphone, my gaze sweeping across the entire venue, “Distinguished guests, dear friends and family, today marks not only the successful conclusion of our two families’ partnership, but also the fifth anniversary of my marriage to Andre.” “Today, I have a grand gift to present to him, for everyone to witness Andre’s five years of devotion to me.” As the applause died down, several bodyguards carried in two large boxes, decorated with beautiful silk butterfly bows on top. I smiled lightly and pushed Andre toward the boxes, using my eyes to signal him to open them. The entire venue instantly fell silent, everyone craning their necks, curiously watching these large boxes, wondering what precious gift I would give. Andre affectionately pinched my cheek, then reached out to flip open the lock, lifting the lid with a snap. Under his shocked gaze, a woman slowly stood up from inside the box. The moment she looked up and saw Andre in front of her, she burst into tears with a wail and threw herself into his arms, “Honey, you scared me to death! Didn’t you tell me to bring our son back to attend the celebration?” “Right after getting off the plane, I was stuffed into a box. You’re so mean, you can’t scare people like this.” With that, she broke into a smile through her tears and wrapped her arms around Andre’s neck. The entire venue fell deathly silent for three seconds, then suddenly erupted into chaos, “What’s going on? Why is this woman calling Andre honey?” “And she brought a son? Isn’t Andre supposed to be infertile?” Andre’s face changed dramatically. He immediately spun around and threw open the other box. His son was inside, eyes tightly closed, sleeping soundly. Andre’s alarm intensified. He rushed over, scooped the child out, and shouted loudly. But the little one just let his head droop on his shoulder, completely motionless. Andre panicked. After patting him a few times, he turned his gaze toward me, “Kingsley, what did you do to Osman?” I walked forward with a cold laugh, my eyes sharp as I stared at him, “Andre, why are you so nervous? Could this possibly be your son?” “Oh right, I forgot—Andre was injured in a car accident and shouldn’t be able to father such a cute child.” As I spoke, my manicured nail lightly traced across the child’s cheek, leaving a red mark. Andre froze. Without even a second’s contemplation, he forced a smile onto his panicked face, “Kingsley, don’t misunderstand. This child… this child…” In his haste, even someone as shrewd as Andre couldn’t find a suitable explanation. Suddenly, as if he’d thought of something, he immediately held the child out toward me, “Kingsley, this is Marta’s little nephew. Marta knew we couldn’t have children, so to repay our kindness, she specially gave us her nephew to raise as our son.” As he spoke, his voice steadied, excited to have found such a good excuse. “Kingsley, look how adorable this child is. Haven’t you always wanted a child? Good people are rewarded—Marta is grateful for our sponsorship and really gave us a child.” Seeing the child in my hands, Marta couldn’t help but panic. Just as she was about to rush over, Andre grabbed her arm and glared her back. I methodically stroked the child’s soft hair, my sharp nails scraping across his tender cheeks one stroke at a time, leaving white marks. Watching Marta’s eyes redden with anxiety, tears welling up, and appreciating Andre nervously swallowing, his Adam’s apple bobbing continuously. Suddenly I grabbed the child’s neck, hissing a harsh rebuke, “Marta, you’ve already miscarried one son. Do you want this son to die in my hands too?” Marta cried out in alarm, a shrill scream echoing through the hall, “Kingsley, that’s Andre’s son! You can’t hurt him!”

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The new intern loves calling my husband Nathan “Daddy.” “Daddy, I got my period. Buy me some pads.” “Daddy, I can’t fasten my bra. Help me.” “Daddy, why aren’t you wearing my hair tie on your wrist? As punishment, you have to wear two—pink ones, okay?” I frowned in displeasure, but my husband just waved it off dismissively. “She’s just playing around. Once the novelty wears off, she’ll stop.” But at the company’s annual gala, she stumbled into my husband’s arms, her eyes red and pitiful. “Daddy, I twisted my ankle in these heels. It hurts so much.” My husband publicly removed her shoes and carefully massaged her foot. Everyone looked away uncomfortably, casting sympathetic glances at me. I slowly stood up and announced on the spot that the company was getting a new CEO. The intern shot to her feet and cursed at me: “Old hag, you have no authority to remove Daddy from his position!” I smiled and looked at Nathan. “Why don’t you tell her—do I have the authority or not?” At the company’s year-end gala, the host was reading out the third-prize winners onstage. “Lena.” Lena stood up with a cheer. Her low-cut dress slipped down another two inches. Every eye in the room glued itself to her. Or rather, to her nearly exposed chest. “Oh no!” A delicate cry. Timed to perfection. She tilted to the right, catching herself with one hand on the ground. Her eyes instantly misted over. “Daddy, I twisted my ankle in these heels! It hurts so much!” The entire ballroom fell silent. Nathan rose from the main table and jogged up to the stage. He crouched in front of Lena, carefully cradling her foot. “How could you be so careless?” Lena bit her lower lip, her eyes growing even redder. “Daddy, it really hurts…” Nathan skillfully removed her high heel, wrapping his palm around her foot and gently massaging her ankle. His movements were too natural. Clearly not the first time. I remembered last month when my migraine flared up and I asked him to massage my temples. He’d frowned and said, “My wrist is sore. You should see a physical therapist instead.” The contrast was glaring. Now he looked up at her, his eyes full of concern. “Bear with it. Daddy will rub it and make it feel better.” He lowered his head and blew gently on the reddened skin. The entire room was dead silent. I could feel the eyes from several tables behind me—curious, sympathetic, gleeful. Ruth, the CFO sitting beside me, cleared her throat softly, about to say something, but I raised my hand to stop her. On stage, Lena’s gaze traveled over Nathan’s head and locked precisely onto me. Her lips curved into a smile, though her voice grew even softer. “Don’t worry about it, Daddy’s just used to doing this.” She even reached out and ruffled Nathan’s hair. The gesture was intimate, possessive, and provocative. The champagne glass in my hand trembled slightly. I’d been away from the company for a year to have our second child. I hadn’t expected things to get this interesting during that time. Lena had only joined the company six months ago. I’d heard some rumors. She liked calling Nathan “Daddy.” She’d worn his jacket and drunk from his cup. “Daddy, I got my period. Buy me some pads.” “Daddy, I can’t fasten my bra. Help me.” “Daddy, why aren’t you wearing my hair tie on your wrist? As punishment, you have to wear two—pink ones, okay?” All of this had been reported to me by my trusted confidants. I’d confronted Nathan about it. He just waved it off. “Young girls play around. Once the novelty wears off, she’ll stop.” “If there was really something between us, would I let the whole company know?” I thought about it and agreed. Anyone with half a brain certainly wouldn’t be so obvious. But I never expected them to act this way in front of all the employees at the company gala. It seemed that after becoming CEO, Nathan had lost his mind. He thought that with me tied down by our second child, he could hold his head high as the master of STAR Tech. I slowly stood up and clapped three times. The sound was crisp. Everyone turned to look at me. Nathan’s hand froze. He whipped his head around, panic flashing across his face. Only now did he realize this wasn’t just within the company. I was present. And I didn’t tolerate any nonsense. Lena, however, smiled even more sweetly, as if she’d been waiting for this moment all along. “While Nathan’s concern for his employees is touching, let’s not disrupt the gala proceedings.” I looked at the host. “Continue.” The host immediately nodded. “Now, we’ll draw the second-prize winners.” Lena continued her coquettish act. “Daddy, my foot still hurts. Can you carry me down?” Nathan lowered his voice, a trace of embarrassment on his face. “Lena, stop it…” I didn’t watch the rest of the prize drawing. I stood up and headed to the restroom. I needed to think. Should I tear into them right here, or wait until after the gala? Suddenly, my phone rang. It was the nanny from home. “Ma’am, Christie wants to video chat with you.” My daughter took the nanny’s phone and gave me a sweet smile. “Mommy, when are you and Daddy coming home? Lucas is already asleep.” My daughter was only five. Her innocent question eased some of the bitterness in my heart. “We’ll be a while longer. Be good and go to sleep first.” “Okay, Mommy. Love you.” Just as I hung up, the door was pushed open.

When Lena walked in, her steps were steady. “Looks like you’re better suited to staying home.” Her lips curled up provocatively. “With me and Daddy at the company, that’s all we need.” I looked up, really looking at her for the first time. She was indeed young and beautiful with a great figure. Combined with her coquettish voice and manner, she was certainly attractive. But heaven was fair. It gave her beauty but not brains. I smiled faintly. “You know Nathan has a daughter, right? She’s only five this year. You’re twenty-two—aren’t you embarrassed to call him Daddy?” Lena covered her mouth and laughed. “You just don’t get it. He likes when I call him that. It’s called… spice.” She looked me up and down. “I heard you’re thirty-five? You look more like forty-five.” She winked at me. “Especially these lines around your eyes. Tsk, time for some injections.” I didn’t respond, just looked at myself in the mirror. Even with tonight’s heavier makeup, I looked bright and attractive. It wasn’t her place to criticize. When Lena saw I wasn’t getting angry, she moved closer and lowered her voice. “Daddy told me last night that you’re like a dead fish in bed. He said in seven years of marriage, every time with you feels like completing a chore.” My fingers tightened as I glared at her. She was trying to provoke me. “Hey, don’t get angry.” Lena’s eyes curved into crescents as she smiled. “Men all prefer young, energetic women.” She pulled a bottle of perfume from her bag and sprayed it on herself. “This is our custom-made intimate perfume. You must have smelled it when he came home, right?” I frowned slightly. I had smelled it many times. I’m allergic to perfume, so I didn’t like that scent. Lena smiled. “My advice? Stay home like a good girl and don’t mess around at the company.” “Otherwise, you and your kids will be kicked out sooner or later!” Kick me out? Interesting. I wondered what Nathan had told her to give her such blind confidence. I glanced at her, my eyes meaningful. “Does Nathan know you’re being so frank with me?” Lena smiled smugly. “What does it matter?” “In front of the whole company, he doted on me. Even if I didn’t say anything, couldn’t you see it yourself?” I nodded slightly. “So you did that on purpose earlier?” “Obviously.” Her expression suddenly changed. “Old hag, you can’t compete with me.” She pulled something from her bag and tossed it casually onto the counter. It was a condom wrapper, crumpled. “Used it in Daddy’s office last night.” She said carelessly, “Forgot to dispose of it. You don’t mind, do you?” My breathing stopped for a moment. She kept provoking me again and again. She must be prepared. Waiting for me to tear into her. Waiting for me to make a scene. Fine. I could satisfy her. I raised my hand. Just then, the restroom door burst open. Leicester, the sales director, rushed in with an ashen face. She didn’t even look at Lena, just grabbed my arm. “Emergency!” She pulled me out of the restroom. Lena laughed softly behind us. “Take care.”

Leicester dragged me into the stairwell before releasing my arm, breathing heavily. She pulled out her phone from her pocket. “You need to see this.” On the screen was a chat log from a group called “Company Drama Watch.” I recognized this group. Three months ago, IT had reported it. “Employees created an anonymous gossip group. Should we deal with it?” I’d said at the time, “As long as it doesn’t affect work, let them be.” Now, this group was live-streaming a spectacle. The latest message was from twenty minutes ago. “OMG! Lena just called Nathan ‘Daddy’ on stage, and he actually went up to massage her foot!” “I knew something was going on between them.” “That cup on Lena’s desk is identical to Nathan’s—matching couple’s set.” Leicester scrolled the screen. “Look up.” I scrolled up. A message from three days ago. “I secretly photographed Lena wearing Nathan’s shirt!” The photo was blurry, but you could clearly see Lena wearing Nathan’s white shirt with nothing underneath. Comments followed below. “Wow, what a body!” “I heard the sounds—she was so loud, like she thought no one else was working late.” “Poor Ruby at home having babies while getting cheated on.” A message from seven days ago. “I screenshotted Lena’s Instagram story. Check this out.” In the screenshot, two hands were intertwined, the man’s hand wearing a Patek Philippe. That was my gift to Nathan for his fortieth birthday. The woman’s hand was slender with nude pink nail polish, a pink hair tie around her wrist. Caption: Celebrating day 99 with Daddy. There were more disgusting conversations in the screenshots. I didn’t want to keep reading. But Leicester scrolled down further to the latest messages. From five minutes ago. “Look! Lena chased Ruby into the bathroom!” “What’s that bitch trying to do?” “What else? Show off. I heard Nathan promised to marry her.” “Marry her? Doesn’t Nathan have a wife?” “New here? Everyone knows Nathan got his position through his wife. Now he’s got wings and wants to fly away.” “What did Lena say in the bathroom? Did anyone hear?” “Couldn’t hear clearly, but definitely nothing good. That woman shouts ‘Daddy’ in the office every day. So disgusting.” “Once Daddy divorces Ruby, I’ll be the boss’s wife! Lena said this herself outside the bathroom door ten minutes ago. I recorded it.” Leicester clicked on the audio file. Lena’s voice came through the phone, dripping with satisfaction. “That old hag wore that black dress today, looking like an unlucky crow. Daddy said she’s gotten more and more boring lately. After the divorce, the company will be mine. Then you’ll all have to call me the boss’s wife…” The audio cut off abruptly. Leicester looked at me, her eyes filled with both anger and concern. “Ruby, this…” I closed my eyes. Three seconds. Deep breath. When I opened them again, all emotion had been suppressed. “Give me your phone.” Leicester handed over her phone. I quickly operated it, forwarding all those screenshots and recordings to my social media. Then I made three phone calls.

The first call was to the Legal Director. “I need all of Nathan’s personal account transactions from the past year, plus financial records for all projects under his name. I need them now.” The second call was to my assistant. “Prepare a document immediately—STAR Tech CEO change announcement. Also, notify IT to take control of the gala’s main screen. I’ll text you the authorization code.” The third call was to the head of security. “Bring four people to the main hall and stand by. Wait for my signal.” After hanging up, I looked at Leicester. “Thank you for today.” Leicester shook her head. “Ruby, I’ve worked with you for ten years. Nathan… he’s gone too far.” “I know.” I straightened my dress and did one final check in the mirror. Lipstick intact, eyeliner unsmudged, hair perfectly in place. The woman in the mirror was thirty-five, with fine lines around her eyes, but a sharp gaze. Nathan. Lena. You want to put on a show? Fine. I’ll perform with you. When I walked back into the ballroom, the atmosphere had clearly changed. Everyone was looking at me with complex expressions. The prize drawing on stage had already ended hastily. Soon it would be time for the closing remarks. In previous years, Nathan had given the speech. He and Lena had already returned to the main table. Lena was leaning on his shoulder, whispering something. Nathan was absentmindedly patting her back, occasionally glancing at me. Seeing me return, he immediately stood up. “Ruby, earlier Lena…” “It’s fine.” I smiled, walking past him without stopping. “She’s just a young girl. Doesn’t know better.” Lena looked up, a flash of surprise in her eyes. She probably expected me to explode. But I didn’t. I walked straight to the podium and took the microphone from the host. “Everyone, I’ll handle tonight’s closing remarks.” The entire room watched me quietly. Nathan frowned. “Ruby…” There was a trace of worry in his eyes. My behavior was too abnormal. Lena’s lips, however, curved into a triumphant sneer. [Finally can’t hold it in anymore?] [Make a scene.] [The wealthy care most about dignity.] [The bigger the scene, the faster I rise.] I nodded toward the control room. The main screen’s prize drawing page instantly went black, then lit up again. When the first PowerPoint slide appeared, Nathan’s expression changed. Lena also jumped to her feet. “Host, turn off that screen right now!”

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I was working overtime until late at night before Christmas when I came across a trending Ins post about managing employees. One comment stood out like a sore thumb. [My husband’s got a brilliant strategy. He’s the company CEO, and he specifically targets excellent female employees for underground relationships. Manipulates them into slaving away for the company.] [Every time my husband fucks her, he kicks her out of bed to work on proposals. That woman hasn’t taken a day off in 3 years.] Some people below defended the female employee, cursing the couple for their cruelty. But she carelessly added another picture. In the photo, a tall blond man wearing an apron was cooking in the kitchen. My breath caught, and my grip on my phone tightened suddenly. I could never mistake him. The silhouette in the photo was unmistakably my billionaire boyfriend with whom I’d been in an underground relationship for five years. I flipped my phone face-down on the desk and took several deep breaths. When I turned it back over, my fingertips trembling slightly, I zoomed in on the photo bit by bit. The watch on the man’s wrist was the New Year’s gift I’d bought him after saving up a whole year’s worth of bonuses. Even the small red mole behind his right ear was identical to Johnson’s, down to the last detail. Someone in the comments asked, [Hasn’t that female employee ever suspected anything?] The woman replied triumphantly: [Every time I call, my husband tells her I’m his mom. A few times he even coaxed that stupid woman into calling me “mom” several times.] The cold light from the screen stung my eyes until they watered. A few days ago, after Johnson answered a call, he suddenly smiled and said to me, “Laura, my mom wants to say a few words to you.” I froze for a moment, then quickly took the phone and softly called out “Auntie” a few times. On the other end of the line, there was no response at all. Johnson teased me from the side with a laugh, “My mom’s hoping we’ll get married soon. She’s waiting for you to change how you address her.” Though I found it abrupt, I couldn’t resist his coaxing and finally called out softly, “Mom.” As soon as I spoke, uncontrollable laughter burst from the other end of the line. She said “good” three times in a row, then hurriedly hung up. At the time I felt something was off, but Johnson coaxed away my doubts with a few words. Now I know that on the other end of that call was his legitimate wife. My fingertips trembling uncontrollably, I clicked into that woman’s Ins profile. The latest post was from two weeks ago: [New Year’s gift from hubby, just a bit too expensive~] But on that same day, Johnson had said to me, “The company’s not doing well this year. As my future wife, you should forgo your year-end bonus. And your overtime pay—I’ll make it up to you next year.” My hands shook even more violently as I continued scrolling. [Vacationing in the Maldives with hubby, days without work are absolutely the best!] During that same period, I’d been pulling all-nighters for three consecutive days trying to close a major deal, eventually drinking myself into gastric bleeding at a business dinner. After the contract was signed, I even attributed all the credit to Johnson, who hadn’t contributed a thing, just to help establish his authority in the company. The next post: [Moving to our new home! Hubby specially bought this riverside mansion for me and the baby.] The photo showed a spacious, bright living room with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking a dazzling river view. Meanwhile, I hadn’t even been allocated employee housing. In this expensive city, I rented a tiny, old apartment in a remote area, with a daily commute of at least two hours each way. How ridiculous that I’d trusted Johnson so completely. I’d believed his lies about the “company doing poorly, on the verge of bankruptcy.” I didn’t spend his money, didn’t ask for raises, worked myself to the bone—all so he could have it easier. Five years of dedication, and in the end, I’d been making wedding clothes for his happy life with another woman. Tears fell without warning. I hastily raised my hand to wipe them away, but accidentally knocked over the now-cold takeout container on my desk. Leftover food and rice scattered across the floor in a mess. I finally couldn’t hold back anymore and crouched on the ground, sobbing. Johnson was in his riverside mansion with his wife and child, eating a New Year’s Eve dinner of seafood and abalone. Perhaps after eating, they’d cuddle by the window watching the spectacular fireworks, then nestle on the sofa watching the lively New Year’s gala. But I was working overtime in a pitch-black office building. Not only was there no overtime pay, the meal I ate was a ten-dollar box lunch. I don’t know how long I cried before my phone rang. When I answered, Johnson’s voice came through the speaker, “Laura, Happy New Year!” “I’m still out of town attracting investors. You handle things internally while I handle external affairs—let’s work together next year to grow the company bigger and stronger!”

I sniffled hard, suppressing the bitterness rising in my throat. “What are you doing right now?” Johnson’s voice carried its usual weariness and dependence, “Just finished entertaining clients. My stomach’s killing me from all the drinking.” “I wish you were here.” In the past, hearing these words would have broken my heart. I’d immediately say “I’m here for you.” Then he’d naturally push even more difficult work onto me. This time I didn’t respond. After a few seconds of silence on the phone, he spoke up, “By the way Laura, you probably still can’t leave tomorrow.” “Bob from KING Group is bringing his wife and kids here for vacation in a few days. I need you to host them the entire time.” The train ticket home that was supposed to be before New Year’s—I’d changed and refunded it, refunded and changed it again. I’d long since lost count of how many times my trip home had been postponed. I only remembered my grandmother asking cautiously over the phone multiple times, “Laura, can you come home this year? Grandma made your favorite cured meat.” My voice trembled uncontrollably as I asked him, “Why is it always me? I haven’t had a single day off all year. I haven’t been home in so long.” “And Grandma’s sick. You know I need to go back and see her.” Johnson’s tone instantly cooled, and he started with the same old speech, “The company belongs to both of us. I’m out here busting my ass attracting investors, so of course you need to help me hold down the fort.” “Whether this partnership works out depends entirely on this reception. I can only trust you with it.” Seeing I didn’t respond, he softened his tone to coax me, “Be good. Once we close this deal, I’ll go back with you.” “Doesn’t your grandma want most to see you settled down? Once we’re stable, we’ll go back together in style, okay?” Before I could say anything more, the call was already disconnected. This wasn’t the first time he’d made such a promise. In the third year of our underground relationship, after he learned I only had a grandmother to depend on, “Going home with you to see Grandma” became the perpetual carrot he dangled in front of me that never materialized. Two years ago in summer, when he asked me to deliver a contract to the west side of the city in the rain while running a high fever, he said, “Deliver this and we’ll close the contract. Close it, and I’ll go home with you to see Grandma.” In the fourth year, when he wanted me to give up my annual leave, he said, “Work overtime this New Year’s Eve, and once we get through this busy period, I promise I’ll go back with you.” Right up until now, he was still saying, “Once we work hard and buy a house, once we’re stable, we’ll go back to see Grandma and bring her to live with us.” But in reality, he already had a house. A riverside mansion, brightly lit. The woman of the house inside wasn’t me. My phone suddenly vibrated. A message from Johnson popped up on the screen. [Don’t be upset. Take this money and get yourself something good to eat. I’ll make it up to you properly when I get back.] [The company accounts are tight this year. I’ve wronged you, but next year I’ll definitely make it up to you with more.] Then a transfer notification appeared. I didn’t open it, but I knew the maximum amount would be no more than two hundred dollars. At the same time, that woman posted a new update: [Hubby transferred the entire year’s net profit from his company to my card, not a penny less~] The accompanying image was a screenshot of her bank card balance. Behind the number were eight neat zeros. A netizen who, like me, had found their way from the “managing employees” post to the woman’s profile asked, [Your husband made this much this year—how much does he give that female employee to make her work so hard?] She replied mockingly, [Two hundred, and that’s only because I couldn’t stand watching and told him to send it to that cheap, stupid woman working overtime.]

I turned off my phone, wiped the tears from my face, and prepared to go home first. The streets were empty. The subway had long since stopped running, and the buses had suspended service for New Year’s. I stood on the roadside for nearly half an hour, frozen until my hands and feet were numb, before finally flagging down a taxi. The driver rolled down his window and held up three fingers, “New Year’s rates. Three hundred extra.” Cold wind poured down my collar. I gritted my teeth and got in anyway. The warm air conditioning inside the car brought me back to life a little. I instinctively reached for my phone, wanting to message Johnson and complain like I’d done countless times before. But my fingers stopped mid-air. This had happened before. Getting price-gouged for rides, rudely cut in line, receiving the wrong flavor in food delivery. I’d always complained to him feeling wronged. He’d always brush it off with one casual sentence, “Just make do if you can. Live and let live.” Back then I always thought he was magnanimous by nature, didn’t like to fuss. Until I saw that woman’s profile. When she complained about difficulty getting rides, Johnson immediately bought her a car and hired a dedicated driver. When she casually mentioned the queue at a trendy restaurant was too long, Johnson directly paid everyone in line five hundred dollars each so she could go in first. As for food delivery… She never had to eat takeout at all. Johnson thought outside food was unhealthy, so he specifically learned to cook and personally made her three meals a day. All the grievances he told me to “just make do with” were “major issues” that required immediate resolution for the person he truly loved. Love versus lack of love—turns out they’re so distinctly different. I turned to look out the window at the thousands of lights, each home warm. Only I was adrift. Tears could no longer be held back and fell silently. Later I cried louder and louder, my whole body trembling. The driver glanced at me several times through the rearview mirror. Finally, when we stopped at my apartment complex entrance, he sighed, “Forget it, miss. I won’t charge the extra three hundred. Get home quickly.” Pity from a complete stranger. Yet the man I’d loved wholeheartedly for five years, whom I’d considered my entire future, Watched me like a fool, exhausting my youth to build happiness for him and another woman. After getting home and washing up carelessly, I collapsed on the sofa exhausted and fell asleep. Near dawn, urgent phone ringing yanked me from a nightmare. I groggily answered, but the moment I heard the voice on the other end, I was instantly awake. It was Grandma’s neighbor Kingsley, his voice trembling with urgency, “Your grandmother got up early to use the bathroom, but there’s still ice in the yard that hasn’t melted—she slipped and fell! We just sent her to the hospital!” My mind went “buzz,” instantly freezing me to the core. Without time to think, I threw on my coat, grabbed a few belongings, and rushed to the airport. Inside, crowds surged. I squeezed to the gate entrance but couldn’t get my ticket to scan through the turnstile no matter what. After trying repeatedly, the machine only coldly repeated its error message. I hurriedly turned to the service counter, “Excuse me, could you please check my ticket?” The staff member took my ID, typed on the keyboard a few times, then looked up at me, “I’m sorry, ma’am. There’s no booking under your name.” I froze, then anxiously leaned forward, “How is that possible?” “Please look again carefully. I just changed my booking a few days ago! The earliest flight today!” She checked again and still shook her head, “There really isn’t one.” My throat tightened as I asked with a sob in my voice, “Can I still buy a ticket now? Any flight at all!” “I’m sorry, all flights are fully booked.” People in line behind me began urging impatiently. I numbly shuffled my feet, pushed around by the crowd. Suddenly, a thought appeared in my mind. With trembling hands I pulled out my phone and called Johnson, “Johnson… did you refund my plane ticket?”

On the other end, Johnson seemed not yet awake, mumbling an “mm-hmm,” “I knew you’d still be determined to go home.” “That’s why I refunded your ticket for you. Focus on the reception—that’s what matters.” My voice changed pitch with anxiety, tears suddenly pouring out, “Johnson, do you know Grandma fell! She’s in the hospital! I have to go back immediately!” The other end was silent for two seconds, then came a short, sharp laugh, “Laura, when did you learn to lie to me like this?” “To go home, you’d even make up an excuse about Grandma being sick?” “I’m not lying! It was Kingsley who…” “Enough.” He impatiently cut me off, “Stop making a scene. Get ready for the reception. I was entertaining clients until midnight—I haven’t even slept yet.” But before the call disconnected, I clearly heard a woman’s lazy, soft murmur. Tears splashed onto the screen, blurring everything. I spun around anxiously in the airport lobby, opening all the ride-hailing apps with trembling hands. Back to my hometown—nearly three hundred kilometers. I kept increasing the offer, from two hundred to five hundred, then to eight hundred… The system kept displaying “No drivers available.” In desperation, I called Johnson again, wanting to beg him to drive me back. But the phone rang twice before being rudely disconnected. Immediately after, a message popped up, cold in tone: [Going to entertain clients soon. Don’t bother me. Handle the reception yourself.] But that woman’s profile showed the latest update: Johnson had taken her to see a movie, then to a trendy restaurant that required reservations half a year in advance. He was attentive to her every need. But he ignored me completely. I bit my lip, suppressing the sourness in my eyes. I first transferred money to Kingsley, asking her to take good care of Grandma. Suffering until afternoon, Kingsley video-called me. On the screen, Grandma lay in the hospital bed, her face a bit pale but her spirits still good. She tried hard to smile at me, wrinkles bunching together, “Laura, Grandma’s fine. The doctor says I can go home in a couple days.” “Focus on your work. Don’t make a special trip back.” Watching her forced smile, my throat ached with sourness. I could only nod vigorously, unable to say a word. After hanging up, I opened the ticket booking app again and unexpectedly managed to book a ticket home for January 5th. My fingertip paused. A plan slowly formed in my mind. On January 3rd, I put away all my emotions. Following Johnson’s requirements, I meticulously received Bob from KING Group and his wife. Throughout, I smiled warmly, was thorough and considerate, without a single mistake. Johnson was very satisfied with my performance. He proactively messaged saying he’d reimburse my ticket home. [See, it’s not that I don’t want you to go back, otherwise I wouldn’t have specifically reimbursed you.] [Keeping you a few more days is all for our company, so we can live well in the future.] I didn’t reply with a single word, just accepted the payment. On January 5th, ticket in hand, I boarded the plane home on time. Arriving at the county hospital, I stayed by Grandma’s side every moment, carefully attending to her. During these days, Johnson sent a few sporadic messages. Ostensibly asking about Grandma’s health, but actually urging me to return to the company soon. I treated them all as if I hadn’t seen them. He wasn’t in a rush either. After all, in the past, no matter how badly we’d fought, I’d always come crawling back to him in the end. Unfortunately, this time his calculations were wrong. It wasn’t until ten days later that I finally returned to the company at his repeated urging. As soon as I entered the office, he coldly rapped on the desk, “So many days late. No perfect attendance this month. According to company policy, your wages will be docked too.” I smiled indifferently. I pulled a sheet of paper from my bag and slapped it on the desk with a “smack,” “I’m resigning.” “Also, all my overtime pay, performance bonuses, and year-end bonuses from these years—pay them all.” The paper crinkled in his grip. He stared at the number at the bottom for a few seconds, then laughed out loud, “Three million six hundred forty thousand? Laura, even throwing a tantrum has limits.” Seeing my serious expression, his face gradually darkened, “You really want to resign? Fine by me. Does the company stop functioning without you?” “But this money—don’t expect to get a single penny.” Before he finished speaking, the office door burst open. His assistant rushed in, face ashen, “Johnson, this is bad!” “All last year’s partners say they’re terminating cooperation, and Bob who we met with before New Year’s also says he won’t sign the contract!”

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My wife Eva was lying on my operating table, pregnant with her first love’s child for the eighth time. This time, I didn’t lose control like the previous seven times. Instead, I calmly sutured her wounds and explained the post-operative precautions. Having performed abortions for Eva so many times, I’d long become the laughingstock of the entire hospital. After the surgery, Eva grabbed my sleeve and sobbed, “George, this time Chris was drugged with an aphrodisiac. I had to help him… Don’t worry, you’re my husband. I’ll only have children for you.” I shook off her hand and walked out of the ward. Before our marriage, we’d signed an agreement. I would give Eva eight chances to make mistakes. Now those chances were used up. The agreement was now in effect, and her billion-dollar fortune would transfer directly to my name. Like the previous seven times, I came to her ward carrying that white medical box. When Eva saw me, she immediately pushed herself up to sit. Her tone carried undisguised urgency. “George, did you extract the cord blood?” This was the only question she asked after each surgery. Chris had a hereditary blood disease. She claimed she was thinking of me. But the truth was simply to extract cord blood from the unformed embryo—to have a constant, sufficient supply for Chris. I said nothing, simply setting it down gently in the exact spot she’d specified. Before her eighth abortion, we’d once had a child of our own. Back then, to find a match for Chris, she hadn’t hesitated to induce labor on her three-month pregnancy—all for that slim possibility of compatibility. When I discovered the truth, we had a terrible fight. In the heat of our argument, I rushed out and got into a car accident that nearly crippled my right hand. After nearly three years of grueling rehabilitation, I finally stood in an operating room again. She’d held me then, trembling and sobbing, choking out a vow: “George, never again. We’ll have our own child.” I believed her. But in the end, my trust was misplaced. Seeing my silence, clear impatience flashed through her eyes. A young nurse, reading the room, quickly spoke up: “Eva, don’t worry. Everything you asked for, George has already arranged.” Only then did her expression relax slightly, showing a hint of relief. After several consecutive surgeries, I was utterly exhausted. I didn’t want to play along with this charade anymore and turned to leave. But she suddenly called out, her eyes reddening instantly. “I’m sorry, George. I swear this is the last time. Once I’ve recovered, we’ll have a baby right away, okay?” My steps halted. A baby? After eight abortions, her uterine wall was already as fragile as paper. Without my years of desperate effort to treat her and perform her surgeries, she would never be able to become a mother again. Just then, the ward door crashed open! Chris burst in, face flushed, swinging his fist at me. “You bastard! She’s your wife and you had the heart to perform this kind of surgery on her! How many times has it been? Do you realize you’re committing a sin?” I adjusted my crooked glasses and raised my own fist. Before I could fight back, a dull pain shot through the back of my head. I turned around—Eva had grabbed the cup from the bedside table and smashed it against my head. Warm blood gushed from the back of my skull. She jumped out of bed, spreading her arms to shield Chris protectively behind her. “Enough! George, how long are you going to keep this up? Why did you hit Chris? You know perfectly well Chris has underlying health conditions—emotional stress affects his condition! Do you have any medical ethics at all? Hitting a patient—do you even deserve to be a doctor?” The accusations rained down like hail. I covered my bleeding head, my eyes burning painfully. But what hurt more was my heart, torn bloody by her. My throat tight, I forced out each word: “He hit me first.” What I got in return was an even more self-righteous rebuttal. “So what if he hit you? You removed the child from my belly, but it was also his flesh and blood! You killed his child.” But I remembered—every single time, it was she who knelt before me begging for the surgery. Looking at her righteous face, I suddenly didn’t even have the energy to argue. After all, she’d performed this gaslighting routine too many times. Blood dripped continuously through my fingers. The young nurse beside me turned pale with fright. She quickly wheeled over a wheelchair: “George, you’re badly hurt. Let me take you to get bandaged!” Just as I was about to sit down, Chris suddenly groaned and collapsed softly into Eva’s arms. The wheelchair that had just been brought over was immediately seized by Eva and pushed in front of Chris. “Chris, sit down quick! I’ll take you to see a doctor!” The young nurse tried to intervene, looking distressed.

“This wheelchair was prepared for George. You can’t—” Eva glanced at me like she was granting charity, then scolded the nurse: “Can’t you see who the real patient is? He’s a doctor—what could possibly be wrong with him? If you keep blocking us, I’ll report your hospital for discrimination, refusing emergency care, and competing with patients for resources!” Watching how nervously she protected Chris, I couldn’t remember the last time she’d defended me like that. The atmosphere was cold as iron. Eva forcefully wheeled the chair away. The young nurse looked at me pleadingly. I said flatly, “It’s fine. Not gonna die yet.” Just after I’d had my wound treated, Eva sent someone with something. There was even a note in her handwriting attached: *[George, I’m sorry. Chris just lost a child and his emotions aren’t stable. Please be understanding. After all, I agreed to remove the baby for your sake.]* *[Chris isn’t feeling well right now. I need to stay with him. I’ll come back later.]* I opened the container—it was a bowl of century egg and pork congee. I let out a bitter smile. She’d actually forgotten I was allergic to century eggs. I remembered once accidentally eating century eggs—my whole body broke out in hives, my breathing grew rapid, I nearly suffocated. When she saw me like that, her eyes had turned red with panic. She’d taken me to the hospital overnight, kneeling before the doctor and crying like a child. Just a few short years. After Chris returned to the country, everything changed. I returned to our cold, empty home and slowly began sorting through our belongings. Looking through the letters she’d once written me—page after page of burning, passionate words. My heart trembled uncontrollably. I thought if she came home tonight and properly apologized, I wouldn’t need to be so ruthless. Divorce would be enough. After all, I could support myself. I waited for her in the living room all night. She never came back. It wasn’t until the next day that I saw Chris’s Instagram. His latest post was a grid of nine photos, centered on a brand-new Porsche. The caption read: “Gift from Eva. She said it was to make up for aborting our child. Since her attitude is so sincere, I forgive her.” In the photos, his face was pressed against Eva’s, their smiles glaring. The comments section had exploded. Mutual friends who recognized Eva were condemning Chris as a homewrecker. And another user with an obvious Eva profile picture replied below, her words fierce and certain: “He’s not the other man. The unloved one is the other man. If you keep spouting nonsense, I don’t mind reporting you to the police.” After spending the entire night away, she had thoroughly extinguished the last bit of warmth remaining in my heart. I calmly organized my resignation letter and got up to head to the hospital. Just as I reached the hospital entrance, I ran into Eva approaching with a flushed face. She didn’t even notice the gauze wrapped around the back of my head before launching into an interrogation. “Did you hire someone to make that Instagram post yesterday? Because of your stunt, everyone’s attacking Chris now! I want you to apologize to him immediately!” She shoved an Instagram post full of hate comments in my face. Looking at her, I felt only absurdity. That bragging post was clearly something Chris himself had posted to Instagram for attention. Now that it had sparked outrage, it had become my fault. Before, when colleagues stood up for me, Eva would show up at the hospital every day to make scenes—cursing them out like a shrew in public, even spreading sexual rumors about a male colleague that caused problems in his marriage. Over time, no one dared speak up for me anymore. Who would dare meddle now? A self-mocking smile tugged at my lips. “You should go ask him yourself. After all, who else could log into his account?” She seemed suddenly enlightened and froze. She’d only taken a few steps when she turned back. “You’re still angry? Just because I didn’t come home last night?” I said nothing. Her tone suddenly softened, taking on a familiar cadence. “I didn’t want to wake you, so I roughed it outside for the night. Don’t misunderstand. You work so hard normally—if I’d come back that late, you definitely wouldn’t have slept well. I felt bad for you.” The first time she’d said this, I’d been overwhelmingly moved. But ever since I discovered that the nights she claimed she “didn’t want to wake me” were actually spent by Chris’s mother’s hospital bed, too afraid Chris would get tired—willing to suffer herself, using her “privileged status” to personally care for them night after night—these words had become nothing but mockery. After a long silence, she finally noticed the gauze on my forehead. Her eyes flickered. Just as she was about to speak, her phone rang sharply in her pocket. She glanced at the screen, her expression changing. “Chris? Don’t panic, I’ll be right there!” She didn’t even finish a complete sentence to me before clutching her phone and rushing off. I’d thought she might actually be willing to believe me. But shortly after she left, I saw Chris’s Instagram post: “Thanks to Eva for the villa gift. She told me not to worry about bad people, and I’m obediently listening.” I clicked on his profile, deleted and blocked him. It didn’t matter anymore.

The next day, I was packing my luggage when the department director suddenly called. When I arrived at the hospital, the office door was already surrounded by people. Things came flying at me. Before I could react, someone raised a bottle of sulfuric acid and threw it at me. Though I dodged to the side, the liquid still splashed onto the back of my hand, sending searing pain through it. “Quack! My child went to the ICU after taking your medicine! Give me back my child’s life!” Heart-wrenching wails filled the entire corridor. My head buzzed. After all these years, I’d always been meticulous with my work, never making mistakes. How could a child possibly have ended up in the ICU from taking the wrong medication I prescribed? Enduring the chaos and the stinging pain in my hand, I pulled up the surveillance footage. In the video, Chris secretly switched out the medication I’d prescribed for the child. My entire body went cold. I headed straight for his ward. Eva was feeding him soup, her movements gentle. “Chris!” Eva immediately stood up, using her body to block him: “What are you doing?” A posture of absolute protection, as if terrified I might do something to him. From beginning to end, she never noticed I was still injured. Suppressing my fury, I shoved my phone in front of her face. Eva glanced at it, her expression abnormally cold. “Chris didn’t do it on purpose. He probably just accidentally grabbed the wrong medicine.” “You’re the doctor. You bear ultimate responsibility for the patient. Consider this a lesson. It’s lucky no one died. In fact, you should be thanking Chris.” Any reasonable person could see this was deliberate switching, deliberate framing! Yet for Chris’s sake, she lied with her eyes wide open. “Fine. We’ll let the police decide.” The moment the word “police” left my mouth, Chris immediately dropped to his knees before me, tears streaming down his face. “George, I really didn’t mean to! The two bottles looked similar—I accidentally mixed them up. Please don’t call the police!” Eva immediately helped him up, glaring at me. “George, do you have to be so petty? If you’re going to report him, report me too! I was the one who told him to get the medicine!” “Hospitals mix up medications all the time, don’t they? If you really pursue this, it changes the whole nature of it. Are you trying to destroy him?” As she spoke, she snatched the medicine bottle from my hand. She raised it high, her face showing ruthless determination. “You’re saying the child got sick from this medicine? Then today I’ll destroy it! Without evidence, let’s see how you investigate!” My pupils constricted sharply: “Don’t!” That bottle contained medication to repair her uterus! The formula was difficult to compound. If she smashed it, her uterus might truly be beyond saving! But she’d already swung her arm down without a moment’s hesitation. “Crash!” The bottle shattered, pills scattering across the floor. She lifted her foot and ground them beneath her shoe until they became dirty powder. In that moment, my heart was ground to pieces along with them. Looking at her again, I saw her tightly embracing Chris. All my boiling emotions suddenly drained away completely. I took a deep breath, my voice terrifyingly calm. “Fine, Eva. I hope you won’t regret this.”

After leaving the hospital, I called my lawyer. “That agreement—when does it take effect?” “Tomorrow morning at nine o’clock. The assets will automatically transfer to your account.” After hanging up, I booked myself a flight out. My phone buzzed. Eva had sent a message: *”George, stop being angry, okay? I’ll spend some money at the hospital, pull some strings to smooth things over.”* *”You’ll still be the attending physician. No one can touch your position. Just don’t hurt Chris.”* I didn’t reply. Instead, I deleted all her contact information. Early the next morning, I was dragging my suitcase to the airport when Eva suddenly appeared, her hand clamping down on my wrist like a vice. “Was it you?” Before I could speak, I was roughly shoved into the back seat by her two men. I was dragged to a mountaintop, yanked from the car like a dead weight. “You released that surveillance footage online, didn’t you? George, when did you become so disobedient? I already told you I’d handle your situation. Why did you have to smear Chris?” “To teach you not to be so clever in the future, you’re going to the bungee platform to cool off!” I froze. This wasn’t my doing at all. But she gave me no chance to explain, ordering them to tie me up directly. The rope tightened. I was hoisted up, suspended outside the bungee platform hundreds of meters high. Terror crashed over me like a tidal wave. She knew I was afraid of heights. As a child, when my father’s promotion made others jealous, I was kidnapped and pushed from a tall building. Though there was an air cushion below, the sensation of weightlessness and near-death became a nightmare I couldn’t escape for years. She knew all of this. “No! Eva! I’m scared! Please!” I struggled desperately. She walked coldly to the platform edge, looking down at me. “George, if you do something wrong, you must accept punishment.” “Do you know? You drove Chris to the point of suicide! If I hadn’t discovered it early, he’d be a puddle of flesh right now!” “I clearly told you how important he is to me. Why do you insist on hurting him?” She waved her hand. The next second, I was shoved down hard. The rope bound to my ankles snapped taut with tremendous force, violently stopping my plummeting body. Then brutally yanking me back up! I hadn’t finished coughing from breaking the water’s surface before the weightless sensation hit again. I don’t know how many times I was tortured like this. Just as my consciousness was fading, my phone received a text message. *[Congratulations, George. Your agreement officially took effect today at 9:00 AM. All contracted assets have been transferred to your designated account.]* I forced out a bitter smile. Above, Eva seemed satisfied. Before leaving, she instructed her subordinate: “Let him stay here overnight. Release him after he’s calmed down.” She left with her people. As soon as she was gone, the man above began cutting the rope with a knife. The rope grew thinner and thinner. It snapped. My entire body crashed toward the water’s surface. Lake water flooded my ears and nose. Was I going to die? The next day, at the hospital. Eva had cared for Chris all night. Once he fell asleep, she rubbed her temples. “Release George. One night should be enough for him to clear his head.” Just then, her assistant rushed in, panic written across her face. “Eva! The sir is missing! We only found cut rope at the bungee platform—the person’s gone!” “Also, the bank urgently notified us that all your accounts, equity, and assets were completely cleared and transferred at nine o’clock this morning! The accounts are empty now!” The bowl in Eva’s hand fell to the floor. All color drained from her face.

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The ring my husband Kieran White gave me was engraved with his first love Iris Yates’ name. In a fit of rage, I threw the gold cufflinks Iris had given him into the sewer drain. He held my mother’s critical medication hostage and threatened me: “Get those cufflinks back! Otherwise, you can watch your mother die!” I searched frantically through the sewer for a day and a night like a madwoman. Kieran threw the pills at my feet with satisfaction: “You should have been this obedient from the start. Don’t worry, you’ll still be my wife!” I stiffly pulled at the corners of my mouth and gently placed the medicine bottle on the table. “I don’t need it anymore.” He didn’t know that while he was forcing me to find those cufflinks, my mother’s heart had already stopped beating. Kieran picked up the medicine bottle from the table and smashed it hard against my face. “Selena Moore, what kind of tantrum are you throwing now?” I picked up the bottle from the floor expressionlessly and said softly: “Kieran, I really don’t need it anymore. Let’s get divorced. I don’t want the position of Mrs. White.” Kieran was furious. He gripped my chin tightly, veins bulging on the back of his hand: “Selena, don’t test my limits! If you hadn’t used underhanded tactics to marry me, how would Iris have developed depression? Now you want to just walk away? Don’t even think about it!” He paused, a flash of cruelty crossing his eyes: “By the way, I promised Iris I’d punish you by making you kneel and recite prayers for her.” He forced me to kneel on a pile of Lego pieces. Sharp pain shot through my knees, but my heart had long since gone numb. Kieran frowned, his tone full of mockery: “Selena, stop playing the victim. This is the punishment you deserve.” Before he finished speaking, my phone rang sharply, interrupting him. He snatched the phone and pressed the answer button. A nurse’s formal voice came through: “Is this Miss Selena? Please come to the hospital as soon as possible to settle Ms. Linda Scott’s hospital bill and complete the procedures for the deceased’s transfer.” At the word “deceased,” my whole body trembled. I tried to grab the phone back. But Kieran shoved me to the ground. “Selena, I really underestimated you.” He looked down at me from above, his eyes ice-cold. “To force me to give you money, you’d even stage a show cursing your own mother?” I clutched my phone, looking at the hospital’s payment reminder on the screen, my voice hoarse from trembling: “Kieran, I’m not lying to you… Because there was no medication, my mom is already dead. I don’t want the medicine. I don’t need the money either. I need to go bury my mother. Please let me pass.” Kieran’s whole body stiffened, then he sneered: “You think I’ll believe a pathological liar like you? You want to leave? Fine. As long as you eat this entire bottle of pills, I’ll let you go.” I looked at him in disbelief, agitated: “Kieran, you know I’m allergic to medication. If I take a whole bottle… my allergy will have an acute reaction. I’ll go into shock!” Kieran beckoned, and the bodyguards behind him immediately stepped forward to hold me down. “Selena, I told you to stop playing hard to get.” His voice was laced with ice. “Didn’t you say your mom died? If you don’t take it, I’ll have someone throw that mother of yours who’s still lying in the hospital out to feed the dogs!” “I’ll take it!” I roared, breaking free from the bodyguards, and slowly picked up the medicine bottle from the table. Tilting my head back, I resolutely poured the entire bottle of pills into my mouth. Tears slid from the corners of my eyes into my hair and disappeared without a trace. The bitter taste of the pills instantly spread through my mouth, followed by the suffocating sensation and skin irritation from the allergic reaction. I forced myself to endure the physical discomfort and staggered toward the door. But Kieran rushed over in a few steps, pulled me back, and pressed me hard against the cold wall. “Without my permission, you’re not going anywhere!” “You want a divorce? Fine. Kneel down, put those Legos together, and beg me. If I’m in a good mood, I might consider it.” His phone rang at an inopportune moment. The screen showed “My Iris.” Kieran instantly reined in all his anger, his voice so gentle it could drip water. “Iris, don’t worry, I’ll come pick you up right away.” “There’s something to handle at home. An insignificant person throwing a tantrum.” He soothed Iris on the other end while warning me with his eyes—a look that said if I made a sound, I was dead. After hanging up, he straightened his tie, returning to his refined public persona. “I’m going out. Before I get back, if you dare step one foot out this door…” He paused, leaning close to my ear, using a voice only we could hear: “I’ll make you experience what it truly means to lose everything.” He turned and left, the door slamming shut heavily. I slid down the wall to sit on the floor, coughing violently, forcing myself to vomit up the pills I’d just swallowed. After a long while, I took out my phone and dialed that number. “Hello, I’m Linda Scott’s daughter. I’m coming over now.”

In the morgue, I looked at the hospital bed covered with a white sheet, unable to find the courage to approach. The staff member urged from the side: “Please identify the body.” I took a deep breath, my hand trembling as I lifted a corner of the white sheet. My mother’s face was peaceful, as if she were just sleeping. But I knew she would never wake up again, never smile and call me “Lena” again. Tears finally broke through. I collapsed to my knees by the bed, crying until my heart broke. During these three days, Kieran didn’t make a single phone call. Of course not—he was with his beloved. How could he remember this eyesore of a wife? I stood at the payment counter, ready to pay the funeral expenses, when I received a bank message. [Dear customer, your bank card has been frozen. Current available balance: 0.] Behind me stretched a long line. Everyone looked at me strangely. It was Kieran. He always kept his word. In that moment, I felt like a clown stripped naked, exposed before everyone’s eyes. I dialed Kieran’s number. It rang for a long time before being answered. In the background, I could hear Iris’s coquettish laughter. “Kieran, you froze my card?” “Oh? Finally remembered?” His voice was lazy. “Learn your lesson. Stop talking about divorce at every turn.” “I need money for my mom’s funeral. Just a thousand-dollar deposit is enough.” My voice was completely flat, humbly pleading. Iris’s voice came through the phone: “Kieran, who is it? Is Miss Moore asking for spending money again?” “I just saw this ‘Heart of the Ocean’ necklace I love. It’s only ten million. Will you buy it for me?” Kieran immediately soothed her gently: “Of course. If you like it, buy it. It’s fine, just a telemarketer.” Then he lowered his voice and said viciously to me: “Selena, haven’t you caused enough trouble? Still using your mother as an excuse?” “A thousand dollars? What am I, a charity? Let me tell you, you’re not getting a cent!” “Get back here right now! Don’t make me come get you myself!” He hung up the phone. I stood there holding the cold phone, wooden and still, my heart shattered beyond repair. People behind me started getting impatient: “Are you going to do this or not? If not, move aside!” I retreated awkwardly to the side, looking at the sparse contacts in my phone, not knowing who to turn to. Finally, I took off the bracelet from my wrist. It was the only keepsake my mother left me, part of her wedding dowry from years ago. I took it to a pawn shop. With the money from pawning the bracelet and what little cash I had left, I finally paid all the fees and chose a burial plot for my mother. Coming out of City Hall, the sky had completely darkened. I held my mother’s small urn, walking along the cold, empty street. A black Bentley slowly stopped in front of me. The window rolled down, revealing Kieran’s stern face. Beside him sat Iris, smiling sweetly. He saw the urn in my arms, frowned deeply, his eyes full of undisguised disgust. “Selena, you’ll really do anything for money.” “Carrying around a box to put on a show for whom? Addicted to acting?” Iris poked her head out, asking with feigned innocence: “Kieran, what is that? Why is Miss Moore walking around the street holding a jar? How unlucky.” Kieran snorted coldly: “She says her mother died. Putting on a show for me.” Iris covered her mouth, exclaiming exaggeratedly: “Oh my God, Miss Moore, you’re so inappropriate. How can you joke about your mother’s health?” “Kieran hates being lied to most of all.” She changed her tone, looking at the urn in my arms, “But this prop looks quite realistic. Miss Moore, is there flour inside?” Kieran was guided by her words. He pushed open the car door and snatched the urn from my arms. “Let me see what’s inside this prop of yours.” He made to open it. “No!” I lunged forward, trying to protect that small box. “Kieran, give it back to me! That’s my mother!” “Give it back to you? So you can keep using this prop to scam money?” He sneered, restraining me with one hand while holding the urn high with the other. Under Iris’s entertained gaze, he violently smashed the urn on the ground! With a dull thud, the box shattered into pieces. Gray-white ashes mixed with dust, scattered by the evening wind. “Now you have no prop.” He looked at me, his eyes cold as a knife. “You want money, don’t you? As long as you admit your mother isn’t dead and this was all an act for money, I’ll transfer you a million right now.” My world completely collapsed in that moment. I looked at the ashes scattered on the ground, my mind blank. That was my mother… my only mother… I dropped to my knees like a madwoman, reaching out to catch those gray-white particles, but a gust of wind blew them away. Nothing remained. Tears blurred my vision. I thought back to three years ago. Back then, my mother was seriously ill. I was desperate. Kieran descended like a god, paying all the medical expenses for me. “Lena, don’t worry. With me here, your mother will be fine. I’ll give you and your mother a home.” I thought I’d found salvation, so I married him without hesitation. But I forgot that his heart already belonged to someone else—Iris. After our marriage was announced, Iris, who was abroad, developed depression. Kieran became convinced that I had used underhanded tactics to drive her away and then triggered her with our marriage. From that point on, the tenderness in his eyes vanished completely, replaced by endless resentment and torment. Now, he’d destroyed my last connection with his own hands.

I don’t know how I made it back to the White estate. Kieran dragged me back and threw me into the room like a piece of garbage. Iris followed behind him, saying with false sympathy: “Kieran, don’t be angry. Miss Moore probably didn’t mean it. She must have her reasons.” Kieran waved his hand irritably: “Go back first. I need to handle something.” After Iris left, only suffocating silence remained in the room. Kieran looked down at me curled up on the floor, his eyes devoid of warmth. “Done with your act? Now we can talk about the divorce.” I slowly raised my head, my hollow gaze meeting his: “I agree to divorce.” He seemed surprised by how readily I agreed. After a moment’s pause, he sneered: “Agree? Selena, you think divorce ends everything?” “What you owe Iris, you can never repay in this lifetime!” The next day, Iris came again. She brought a document and threw it in front of me. “Miss Moore, Kieran asked me to give you this.” “Haven’t you always wanted to work? Kieran arranged it for you.” I opened it to find a janitor’s contract. The workplace was White Corporation headquarters. “Also,” Iris took out an exquisite jewelry box from her bag. “This is from Kieran. He said I’m more suited to be Mrs. White than you.” Inside the box was a necklace I once loved most. Kieran said he’d give it to me on my birthday, but on that day, he went abroad with Iris instead. Iris flaunted everything she’d received in front of me, then suddenly changed her tone. She suddenly grabbed my hand and used the necklace to cut a bloody mark across my wrist. Then she threw the necklace hard on the ground and fell down herself. “Ah—” She started screaming. Kieran happened to push the door open at that moment. What he saw was Iris on the ground, the necklace broken, and blood on my hands. “Selena!” He roared, rushing over, shoving me aside and nervously helping Iris up. “Iris, are you okay?” “Kieran, I’m fine…” Iris cried pitifully. “Miss Moore probably didn’t mean it. She just… just saw the necklace you gave me and was upset…” “I didn’t… I didn’t…” I tried to explain weakly. But Kieran wouldn’t listen. “Vicious woman! If you can’t have it, you’ll destroy it? Iris came to see you out of kindness, and this is how you treat her?” He grabbed my throat and pinned me against the wall. “I must have been blind to think you were different from those social climbers!” Suffocation set in. I looked at the towering hatred in his eyes, my heart dead as ash. So even that tiny bit of trust he had in me had long since been worn away. He released his grip. I slid to the floor, coughing violently. He coldly announced: “Didn’t you want to buy a burial plot for your mother?” “I’ve changed my mind. Starting today, you’ll work as a janitor in this villa. When I’m satisfied, then we’ll talk about the burial plot.” He thought he could control me with the burial plot, not knowing… I’d already lost my mother’s ashes. What was the point of a burial plot?

I lived a life worse than a servant’s in the villa. Mopping floors, doing laundry, cleaning every corner. Kieran and Iris performed scene after scene of their loving relationship right in front of me. They kissed in the living room I’d just cleaned. They shared dinner at the dining table I’d just polished. Iris would deliberately spill red wine on the floor, then say with a laugh: “Selena, please clean this up. Kieran says you mop floors the best.” I numbly did everything, but my abdomen often throbbed with dull pain. Then I remembered—my period was almost two months late. An absurd thought flashed through my mind. I took advantage of going out to buy groceries and secretly went to a pharmacy to buy a pregnancy test. When I saw those two clear red lines, my whole body went cold. I was… pregnant. I held the pregnancy test, sitting on the toilet, unable to move for a long time. While I was in shock, Iris found me again. She seemed to notice something was wrong. Her eyes swept over my flat stomach, a strange smile curling at the corners of her mouth. “Miss Moore, why do you look so awful? Are you sick?” As she spoke, she suddenly rushed toward me. I instinctively backed away, but she slipped and rolled straight down the stairs. “Ah!” Before I could react, Kieran rushed out of the study. He saw Iris at the bottom of the stairs and me standing at the top. His eyes turned bloodshot. “Selena! What did you do to Iris!” He rushed over like a madman and slapped me hard across the face. I fell to the ground from the blow. Sharp pain shot through my lower abdomen. A hot stream flowed from below. “Kieran… my stomach hurts so much…” Iris cried from downstairs. Kieran didn’t even glance at me. He rushed downstairs, picked up Iris, and ran outside. As he passed me, he stopped and said, his voice like ice: “Selena, if anything happens to Iris or the baby in her belly, I’ll make you and your dead mother pay with your lives!” What did he say? Iris… was pregnant too? I lay on the cold floor. Blood stained my dress. I watched his back as he anxiously carried another woman away, and finally, I laughed. I laughed and laughed, and then tears streamed down. So he wasn’t against having children. He just didn’t want my child. I remembered when we first got married, he’d held me and said: “Lena, let’s have a baby. One as beautiful as you.” Back then, the tenderness in his eyes could almost drown a person. But now, it was all a joke. The baby was gone. My mother was gone. Selena, you truly have nothing left in this world. I used my last bit of strength to crawl up from the floor and return to my room. I took out the divorce agreement I’d prepared long ago. As I signed my name, my hand didn’t tremble at all. Then I changed out of my blood-stained clothes, dragging my broken body, step by step, out of the White estate. This time, I would never look back. Kieran, goodbye.

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I was born with naturally wide hips, a peach-shaped bottom, and a curvaceous figure. But my fiancé Pierce insisted I had to squeeze into that heirloom mermaid wedding dress before I could enter his family. For three years, I slept in shapewear every single night. My hip bones were rubbed raw and bloody. Because I couldn’t fit into it, I became the laughingstock of the entire city. Pierce would kiss my hip bones and whisper, “Be good, just try a little harder, and then we’ll get married.” For this day, I secretly scheduled an extremely high-risk hip bone reduction surgery without telling my family. Just as I was about to sign the consent form, Pierce’s assistant came running in, panicking. “Mr. Pierce, Miss Sullivan saw the wedding dress mockup and tried to kill herself again. She says she’s jealous that Miss Watson can stand up and wear a dress.” Pierce was silent for two seconds. “Take in the knees of the dress. Alter it to a size where she won’t even be able to walk.” “But Mr. Pierce, at that size, Miss Watson won’t be able to get into it at all…” “Then make her keep trying! Until Scarlett’s legs heal.” “Scarlett became disabled saving me. I can’t let her suffer watching someone else wear a wedding dress and walk around.” He didn’t know that my father had only given me three years. Since this wedding dress was designed for someone crippled, perhaps these legs of mine should just walk themselves back to Harbor City, where I could be the heiress I was meant to be.

“I’m not going through with this surgery.” “Miss Watson, I’m glad you’ve come to your senses.” “Your body really can’t handle this kind of trauma anymore.” I pushed open the consultation room door, only to run straight into a pair of people I had no desire to see. Pierce was pushing a wheelchair, and sitting in it was the pale-faced Scarlett Sullivan. Scarlett wore an oversized hospital gown. Seeing me, she covered her mouth in exaggerated surprise and laughed lightly. “Madison, what are you doing at the hospital? You look like… you’ve gained even more weight.” “That heirloom mermaid dress—I’m afraid you’ll have even less chance of fitting into it now.” Pierce instinctively pulled the wheelchair back a step, positioning it protectively in front of Scarlett. He frowned. “Didn’t I tell you to go to the gym for Pilates? Why are you at the hospital?” “Even if you’re going to slack off, there’s a limit. The wedding is only days away.” I stared at his hand resting on the wheelchair armrest—long fingers, well-defined knuckles, beautiful. Last night, those same hands had caressed the bruises on my hip bones. He’d kissed that spot, coaxing me in a low voice: “Be good, just try a little harder, and then we’ll get married.” Only now did I see clearly—that wasn’t love. It was domestication. Seeing my silence, Scarlett suddenly covered her forehead, her body going limp as she collapsed into Pierce’s arms. “Pierce, I’m so dizzy. Maybe the dialysis session was too long…” Pierce immediately bent down and pulled her into his embrace. “Don’t be scared, the doctor will be here soon. Where does it hurt?” After comforting Scarlett, he turned to look at me. “Scarlett got upset after seeing the wedding dress design. Her emotions are unstable.” “The doctor said she can’t handle any shocks. Don’t hang around in front of her. Go home.” This was my fiancé. While I was grinding my hip bones bloody trying to fit into that dress. He was worrying about whether another woman might get upset from seeing a picture of a wedding dress. A wave of nausea surged up from my stomach. I didn’t meekly leave as I usually would. Instead, I stepped forward. I looked down at Scarlett’s legs hidden beneath the blanket. “Upset?” “Is it because she’ll be a cripple for the rest of her life and can never stand up?” Scarlett’s face went deathly pale, tears welling in her eyes. Pierce straightened up abruptly. “Madison! Do you even know what you’re saying?!” “Scarlett became like this saving me—what right do you have to mock her?” His assistant came running over, sweating profusely. “Mr. Pierce, there’s an emergency at the company. The board members are all waiting…” Pierce took a deep breath, suppressing the rage in his eyes. He looked at me. “Go home and reflect. If you still can’t fit into that dress tonight, don’t expect to step through the doors of the Pierce family.” With that, he hurriedly pushed Scarlett away, not sparing me another glance. Scarlett sat in her wheelchair, looking back at me with eyes full of provocation and smugness. I stood there, watching them disappear down the corridor, and suddenly laughed. Reflect? I should definitely reflect. Reflect on how I’ve lived like a joke for the past three years.

Watching Pierce hurriedly wheel Scarlett away, I pulled out my phone and dialed the number I knew by heart. The call was answered after one ring. “Madison? Why are you calling at this hour? Do you need more money?” “Or… are your hip bones still hurting?” Hearing that familiar voice, my eyes immediately welled up with tears. These past three years, for Pierce’s sake, I’d rarely contacted my family. Even when I did call, I always reported good news and hid the bad. But I also knew that Dad had been quietly watching over me the whole time, fully aware of the suffering I’d endured. Dad felt sorry for me but didn’t dare interfere too much, afraid of putting me in a difficult position. He always said: “If you’re not happy, come home. Dad can take care of you.” I touched my bruised waist, choking back my tears. “Dad, I miss the roasted duck from home.” There was two seconds of silence on the other end. “Okay, okay! I’ll have someone go buy it right now. What else do you want to eat? I’ll send your brother to wait in line!” “As long as you’re willing to come home, I’ll give you anything you want.” After hanging up, I looked out at the blue sky and let out a long, deep breath. Three years ago, I was Madison Watson, the bold and spirited heiress of Harbor City. Back then, I had a voluptuous figure with gorgeous curves. When Pierce proposed to me on the Great Wall, he knelt on one knee. “Madison, I love your sensuality. Don’t change for anyone.” “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. I’ll marry no one but you in this lifetime.” I believed his lies and followed him to Port City without looking back. But the moment I stepped through the Pierce family’s door, Pierce’s mother looked me over with critical eyes. “Wide hips are good for childbearing, but they’re not refined. You can’t wear our family’s haute couture.” “That kind of figure—when you go out, people will just think you’re vulgar. You’ll embarrass Pierce.” From that day on, my nightmare began. To please his family and to satisfy Scarlett, Pierce started to relentlessly manipulate me. “Madison, as long as you can fit into that heirloom mermaid dress, everyone will shut up.” “This is for our future. Just bear with it a little, okay?” I endured for three years. Every day I slept in custom shapewear, barely able to breathe. My hip bones were rubbed raw, scabbed over, then rubbed raw again—over and over, never healing. The driver brought the car to a smooth stop at the entrance of the Pierce family estate. The butler stood at the door, his face stern, looking at me coldly. “Miss Watson, the young master has instructed that you must fit into the dress tonight for the preliminary photo shoot.” “The photographer has already arrived. Please hurry to the dressing room.” This was the Pierce family—no warmth, only endless tasks and suffocating rules. I walked into that dedicated dressing room. The silver-white mermaid wedding dress hung in the center. Its waist was extremely narrow, and the knee area was absurdly constricted. In the past, seeing it would only fill me with fear and anxiety. But now, I felt only calm, along with a hint of relief at my impending liberation. I walked over and ran my hand over the knee area of the dress. The texture was hard and cold. The sensation at my fingertips confirmed what I’d accidentally overheard the maids whispering yesterday— “The young master ordered the knees taken in another three centimeters and six steel boning rods added to make sure it holds its shape.” At the time, it seemed absurd. Now, touching these impossibly hard, completely inflexible steel bones, I understood how vicious every word had been. These boning rods would lock the knees in place. Forget walking—even standing would be difficult. Pierce really hadn’t lied to me. He truly had blocked off this path completely. Since this wedding dress was designed for a cripple, these legs of mine might as well be used for walking instead.

The dressing room door was pushed open, and several maids filed in. They carried heavy-duty shapewear, their expressions cold. “Miss Watson, please cooperate. We need to help compress your body.” “This time the measurements are even smaller. It might take two people pulling, and it will hurt a bit. Please bear with it.” In the past, during every dress fitting, I’d let them do whatever they wanted. Even when my ribs ached from the compression, even when my skin was rubbed bloody, I would just grit my teeth and endure. Because Pierce said this was for love, for our wedding. But today, looking at the binding straps in their hands, I only felt ridiculous. “Get out.” My voice was ice-cold. The head maid paused, apparently not expecting me to resist. “Miss Watson, our boss said tonight you must—” “I said get out!” I grabbed the scissors from the table and stabbed them hard into the vanity. “I’ll dress myself.” The maids were frightened by the ferocity in my eyes. After exchanging glances, they retreated. The moment the door closed, I picked up the scissors and cut into those shapewear garments without hesitation. The fabric tore. This thing that had constricted me for three full years, keeping me awake countless nights in pain. Finally became nothing but scraps of cloth in my hands. I kicked the pieces aside and pulled out my phone, opening a food delivery app. Fried chicken, pizza, cheesecake… Every high-calorie food that Pierce had strictly forbidden for three years—I ordered it all. Half an hour later, the delivery arrived. I sat cross-legged on the expensive leather sofa and opened the fried chicken box. The scent of deep-fried food instantly filled the entire room. I grabbed a drumstick and took a huge bite. The crispy skin, the tender and juicy meat, the oil bursting in my mouth. This long-lost taste almost brought me to tears. Just then, the dressing room door was violently pushed open. Pierce rushed in, looking dusty from travel. Seeing this scene, he froze. “Madison! What are you doing?!” He charged over in a few strides and knocked the fried chicken out of my hand. The golden chicken rolled onto the carpet, leaving a glaring oil stain. Pierce was so angry his chest heaved violently. He pointed at the mess on the floor, his voice trembling. “Have you lost your mind? One bite of that and half a month of effort is wasted!” “Do you know how important tonight is?” “Scarlett is downstairs waiting to see the results. This is how you repay me?” Looking at his furious expression, I calmly wiped the grease from the corner of my mouth. “Effort? What effort?” “To turn myself into a cripple, or to please a woman who doesn’t want me to be well?” Pierce froze, as if he didn’t understand what I was saying. “What are you babbling about? What cripple?” I looked up, meeting his eyes directly, and asked the question I’d been wanting to ask. “Pierce, is that wedding dress really meant for a living person to wear?” Pierce’s eyes flickered, avoiding my gaze. “Of… of course.” “It’s an heirloom. As long as you lose just a little more weight, you’ll be able to—” “Just a little more weight?” I laughed coldly. “Or as long as my legs are broken, I’ll fit right in?” Pierce’s expression instantly turned ugly. He opened his mouth to explain, but was interrupted by the sound of a wheelchair at the door.

Scarlett wheeled herself into the dressing room. Seeing the mess on the floor and the chicken drumstick with a bite taken out of it, she covered her mouth in mock horror. “Oh my, doesn’t Madison want to wear it?” “Pierce went to so much trouble for this dress. How can you treat his efforts so carelessly?” She wheeled over to the wedding dress and reached out to lovingly caress the layers of white tulle. Her eyes reddened, her voice choked with emotion, filled with infinite regret and longing. “It’s so beautiful… If my legs still worked, I’d look so beautiful wearing this dress.” “Too bad I’m a cripple. I’ll never have the chance to wear it and walk in it.” Pierce turned his head and glared at me viciously, any trace of guilt from earlier completely gone. “Madison! Look how understanding Scarlett is, and then look at yourself!” “I’m just asking you to eat a little less, to wear a dress, and you have this many complaints?” “Put it on! Put it on right now! Don’t make me do it myself!” I looked at these two people singing the same tune, and the last shred of hope in my heart was completely extinguished. “Fine. I’ll wear it.” I stood up, grabbed the wedding dress with its constricted knees, and pulled it on in front of them. Without the shapewear compressing me, the dress stuck at my hip bones and wouldn’t pull up no matter how hard I tried. The hard boning rods pierced through my skin, the pain piercing to the bone. I gritted my teeth and didn’t make a sound. Seeing this, Pierce didn’t call a stop. Instead, he strode over and grabbed the zipper pull. “Breathe in! Madison, breathe in!” The force in his hand was frightening, completely disregarding whether he’d hurt me. “Riiiiip—” The crisp sound of fabric tearing. Not the zipper going up, but the lace fabric on the side splitting open. At the same time, the sharp metal zipper sliced open my back. Bright red blood stained the snow-white wedding dress. I gasped in pain, cold sweat instantly soaking my forehead. Just then, Scarlett, who had been watching the show, suddenly screamed. “Ah! My wedding dress! You ruined my wedding dress!” As if she’d received some enormous shock, she frantically wheeled herself forward. Before I could react, she actually lunged from the wheelchair and shoved both hands hard against my chest. “You’ll pay for my dress! You fat pig! You don’t deserve to wear it!” I was already unsteady from being constricted by the dress. With her push, I instantly lost my balance. “BANG—” I fell backward heavily. My lower back hit the sharp marble corner of the dressing room squarely. “CRACK!” That was the sound of bone dislocating, so clear it made my scalp tingle. Excruciating pain hit me. My vision went black and I nearly passed out. At the same time, Scarlett, from using too much force, also fell from her wheelchair. “Ah! Pierce, save me! It hurts…” She’d only fallen lightly onto the carpet, but she screamed louder than anyone. Pierce was clearly closer to me. He’d clearly seen me crash into that sharp corner with his own eyes, seen the blood seeping out. But in that instant, he didn’t hesitate for even a second. He stepped over me lying in agony on the floor and rushed toward Scarlett, who had only scraped some skin. “Scarlett! Did you hurt yourself anywhere? Don’t be scared, I’m here!” I lay on the cold floor, feeling my lower body gradually losing sensation. Blood flowed along the hem of the wedding dress. Looking at those two people embracing tightly not far away, I suddenly didn’t feel the pain anymore.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “357644”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster #浪漫Romance #现实主义Realistic #重生Reborn #校园School

At the class reunion, my doctor friend said my husband came to see him for disinfection yesterday. “Your husband got a couple’s bite mark tattooed on his inner thigh, and it’s gotten a bit inflamed.” After saying this, my doctor friend even sent me a photo. Another friend chimed in enviously: “I never imagined that after so many years of marriage, you two would still be so in love!” The wine in my hand immediately spilled all over the floor. I turned around and called my husband to demand answers: “Your skin is extremely sensitive to allergies. Why did you hide getting a tattoo from me?” My husband’s tone was completely frank: “I’ve always wanted to tattoo your name over my heart, so I was testing it out first. Sorry, honey, I didn’t mean to worry you.” I looked at that photo again—the woman who went to the hospital with him also had the same bite mark on her thigh. I asked him coldly with a sneer: “You want to tattoo my name over your heart. Then whose bite mark is tattooed on your inner thigh?”

I felt like our ten-year marriage had become a complete joke. But before I could question him further, my secretary called in a panic. “Mr. Shaw accidentally ingested dairy products and had a severe allergic reaction—he’s in the hospital!” I frowned and asked: “How could he be so careless?” The secretary said it happened during a business dinner today when a woman insisted that Benjamin Shaw eat ice cream, and he didn’t refuse. On my anxious drive to the hospital, I had the secretary send me Benjamin’s recent work schedule. I needed to figure out who this woman was. Rushing into the hospital room, I saw Benjamin lying there pale-faced, hooked up to an IV. By the bedside, an unfamiliar young woman was crying her eyes out. When she saw me, she immediately rushed over, apologizing nonstop, her face full of guilt. “Mrs. Shaw, I’m so sorry! I really didn’t know Mr. Shaw was allergic to dairy products!” I frowned, scrutinizing her as alarm bells rang in my mind. Just then, Benjamin reached out and took my hand. “Chloe, don’t blame her.” He said Chelsea Winters was the project manager from the partner company. “We’ve been negotiating this deal, and she’s been working overtime every night. So during the celebration banquet game today, I got careless for a moment and ate a few bites, that’s all.” Chelsea immediately said: “Mrs. Shaw, since you’re here, I’ll head back to the office to handle some matters!” Watching their composed demeanor, my vigilant hostility subsided considerably. But I still added her as a friend on Ins. Her Ins content seemed pretty ordinary, and that photo with the bite mark was nowhere to be found. Seeing this, I breathed a small sigh of relief. Maybe I really had misunderstood them. After she left, Benjamin raised an eyebrow with a meaningful smile. “Look at you, all nervous and jealous—don’t trust me? Think I’m fooling around with someone?” I hesitated for a few seconds but still showed him the photo my classmate had sent. “How do you explain this?” Benjamin looked at it for only a second before immediately scoffing, showing not a trace of guilt or nervousness. “Bite mark tattoos are really popular lately. I just did it on a whim. That female doctor… I remember she had a crush on me back in college. She’s probably deliberately spreading rumors, hoping we’ll break up.”

I froze, remembering that there was indeed such a thing. Benjamin laughed dryly. “She must have gotten jealous at your reunion today and deliberately tried to drive a wedge between us! How did you suddenly become so silly, actually believing your rival’s words?” I felt a bit embarrassed by what he said. Over all these years, from falling in love in college to six years of marriage, our relationship had been solid. So many admirers had tried to come between us, but none had ever succeeded. Among our circle of friends and classmates, there was even a saying. That Chloe Morgan and Benjamin were the last line of defense for believing in love. Thinking of all these years of mutual trust and love, I couldn’t help rubbing my temples. Perhaps I really had overthought things. Lost in thought, Benjamin sighed. “Honey, since you misunderstood me, I’m going to tell you something, and you can’t get angry.” I asked curiously what it was. He said next Sunday was our sixth wedding anniversary, and he’d already booked flowers and a restaurant. “But I have to go on a last-minute business trip in a few days to finalize some overseas contracts, so I won’t be able to spend it with you.” I smiled understandingly, saying it wasn’t a big deal. When two people love each other, why fixate on a mere anniversary? Benjamin hugged me emotionally, planting a gentle, deep kiss on my forehead. “I’ll definitely look for some special island souvenirs to bring back as a gift for my wife~” But I never imagined that this gift would be such a “surprising” shock. While scrolling through a live stream, a familiar figure caught my eye. Even wearing an island-style half-face mask, I was so familiar with Benjamin that I recognized him in a second. In the frame, he was embracing a young woman in a revealing bikini, performing a French kiss. That person was none other than Chelsea, whom I’d just seen at the hospital a few days ago. “Wow, wow, if this couple can hold on for one more minute, they’ll win the kissing challenge grand prize~” Amid the enthusiastic cheering of the surrounding spectators, the two kissed as if heaven and earth had ceased to exist. Finally, the woman’s waist went soft and she instinctively hooked her leg around Benjamin. On her inner thigh, a bite mark tattoo practically blinded me. After the challenge ended, Chelsea happily accepted the challenge prize—a pair of dolphin plushies. The next second, I received a photo from Benjamin on my phone. “Honey, this blue dolphin is the island’s mascot, isn’t it cute? I specially got it as a gift for you.” I looked at the pink dolphin in Chelsea’ hands in the livestream, feeling infinite irony in my heart. Suddenly, I seemed to remember something and rushed from the study into the bedroom. On the double bed’s headboard, various stuffed animals and cute plushies occupied every inch of space. But before, those shelves had clearly been filled with literature books we loved reading before bed. Thinking carefully, this change seemed to have started about six months ago. Back then, I’d even teased Benjamin. “How did you suddenly become so girly?” He turned and hugged me, sighing deeply. “Who told my dear wife to be so intellectual and elegant? You don’t want jewelry, you don’t like luxury goods—these plushies aren’t worth much money, but I won them all at little events, so they have special meaning~” At the time, I was deeply moved. Even though I wasn’t interested, I carefully cleaned and maintained them all. Following the social media account Chelsea showed off in the livestream, I immediately logged in to follow and check. Sure enough, every toy on the headboard had its matching half in photos she’d posted.

No wonder she could so shamelessly let me add her as a friend back then. Turns out these romantic records weren’t posted on SnapChat at all. I couldn’t help scrolling through them one by one. The more I looked, the colder my heart grew. “Starting today, I’m recording my daily romance with my darling boyfriend, beginning the challenge of 99 romantic couple must-dos~” “Number 10: Wild sex in the Maybach back seat (completed).” “Number 27: Use three different flavored condoms in one night (completed).” “Number 97: Get matching bite mark tattoos on our inner thighs (completed).” “Number 98: Let a million people witness our kiss (completed today)!” Under each post, an account with a couple’s profile picture responded enthusiastically. Ridiculously, when I enlarged the profile picture, I could see it clearly. In those clasped hands, Benjamin’s ring finger was even wearing our wedding ring. He’d once smiled and promised me: “No matter what, I’ll never take off my wedding ring—I want to declare to everyone that I belong to my wife!” He’d kept his promise. Even when cheating, he wore it faithfully. The two of them conspired together to treat me like a fool. My hands trembled as I scrolled through post after post in an almost masochistic way. My head buzzed with noise as nausea overwhelmed me, and I rushed to the bathroom to vomit violently. Not until a new notification sound rang out did I barely lift my head and look at my phone again. Chelsea had posted a new update. “Baby, what should we do for the next couple’s challenge?” I saw she had quite a few followers, all offering suggestions in the comments. But Chelsea found them all insufficiently thrilling. Finally, a local island fan suggested: “Our most famous attraction is Love Cliff. There’s a bungee jumping challenge tomorrow—legend says couples brave enough to jump together while embracing will love each other forever!” Chelsea immediately became interested. “That’s the one! Number 99: Jump off a cliff together for love, experiencing the romance of eloping and dying together!” She also announced some good news to her fans. “Benjamin promised me that after completing all 99 challenges, he’ll officially propose to me~” Fans expressed their envy and sent blessings. “I’m local—I’ll definitely come witness your love in person!” Reading this, though my heart filled with rage and pain, a glimmer of hope actually arose. Because I could be certain that Benjamin would never agree to this challenge. Simply because he had acrophobia—at its worst, he would even pass out from being at heights! I still remember during sophomore summer vacation when we went on an outdoor excursion together. His necklace broke and rolled down the slope, nearly driving him crazy. “This is my mother’s keepsake—I have to get it back!” But the moment he leaned his head out, his acrophobia kicked in and he nearly fainted. At the time, I disregarded the danger and climbed down without hesitation to search for it. My arms and legs were covered in cuts from sharp thorns, and I even sprained my ankle, nearly falling to my death! After pulling me back up, Benjamin trembled as he held me tight. “Chloe, I’ll never let you down for the rest of my life!” However, this last shred of confidence was shattered by a single comment. Benjamin commented on Chelsea’ post: “For you, I’d risk my life.”

I wandered back to the living room like a ghost and couldn’t help reaching for the necklace hanging around my neck. It was the pendant I’d retrieved for Benjamin. I’d already done the thing about risking my life for love. On our wedding day, he gave me this keepsake from his mother. “This was always meant to be a family heirloom for my daughter-in-law. Chloe, it belongs to you now!” I didn’t love wearing jewelry and never coveted expensive gems. But this necklace that witnessed our love—I’d worn it consistently all this time. Just as I stroked it numbly in my confused state of mind, the pendant suddenly broke and fell to the floor. My heart felt like it had shattered into two pieces as well. Coming to my senses, I quickly took a photo and sent it to Benjamin. “Honey, the necklace broke! Can you come back so we can go find that old craftsman together and have it repaired?” This was my last hope. Also the last chance I was giving Benjamin. After a long while, he finally replied. “How were you so careless? I’ll have my secretary send you the craftsman’s address. You can go get it repaired yourself.” Seeing I hadn’t replied for a long time, he added an apology. “It’s not that I don’t want to go with you—tomorrow’s contract is really important and requires my personal presence for signing! Honey, you’re so considerate and understanding, I know you’ll get it!” I threw down my phone and collapsed powerlessly into the sofa. As tears fell drop by drop, my heart gradually froze over. I sat there without eating or drinking until dawn, then directly bought a plane ticket to the island. Following the address, I arrived at Love Cliff. Because of the couples’ bungee jumping challenge, tourists were everywhere, and the atmosphere was electric. Several couples ready to attempt the challenge already stood on the bungee platform. I spotted Benjamin and Chelsea embracing intimately like glue at first glance. They kept touching hands and kissing, clearly looking like a couple deeply in love. Multiple cameras and livestream lenses pointed upward. Countless comments flew by frantically, everyone betting on which couple could successfully complete the challenge. Benjamin still wore a half-face mask, thinking this way no one could recognize him. There was still one empty spot on the bungee platform. To attract attention and boost viewership, the host searched everywhere in the tourist crowd for suitable challengers. When my face appeared on the big screen, the host’s eyes lit up. He immediately rushed out and pulled me onto the platform. “Miss, are you interested in participating in the Love Cliff bungee challenge? There’s a ten thousand dollar prize!” Seeing Benjamin’s incredulous expression and instantly rigid body, I suppressed a cold laugh. “Sorry, I came alone. I don’t have a partner to join the challenge.” The host looked utterly disappointed but very unwilling to give up. “Oh come on, miss, just find a handsome guy in the crowd to partner with! Who’s willing, please raise your hands!” Countless arms immediately shot up below, with many men staring at me eagerly. Benjamin’s face immediately darkened, and he involuntarily took a step forward. But Chelsea pulled him back, and he immediately hesitated, stiffly retracting his foot. I sneered inwardly, feeling another wave of disappointment. “I’m sorry, I’m already married and my relationship with my husband is great. I would never embrace and hug a stranger man to jump off a cliff. My husband loves me very much and would be jealous~” “Besides, today is our sixth wedding anniversary. Because he came here on a business trip to sign contracts, I secretly flew over, planning to surprise him tonight!” The crowd burst into laughter, and even the big screen comments expressed envy. “Totally understand—if I were the miss’s husband, I’d be angry too~” “Someone else’s wife—both romantic and considerate. Which lucky man gets to be this happy, damn it!” Seeing the atmosphere reach its peak, I calmly pulled out my phone. “Why don’t I call and ask if he’s finished with business? Maybe he can come early and participate in the challenge with me?” The host, seeing there was still hope, quickly urged me to make the call. “Wow~ Your husband will definitely come! A sixth anniversary is so rare—you must create the most precious memories. Everyone agree?” Chelsea’ face immediately changed color, and Benjamin frantically tried to pull out his phone to turn it off. But it was too late. The next second, a phone ringtone rang out. I looked toward the sound, deliberately showing surprise. “Honey, why are you on the bungee platform?”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “357643”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster #浪漫Romance #现实主义Realistic #重生Reborn #校园School

During the earthquake, I chose not to call for help. I let Carson save his first love instead. In this life, I wished them well and married a gentle policeman. But Carson cornered me like a madman. “You were reborn too, weren’t you?” He yanked my collar, saw the marks on my neck, and his gaze turned feral. “Divorce him. I’ll marry you.” I smiled, showing him my wedding ring. “You’re too late, Mr. Sterling.” Then he crashed into my car. Then he grabbed my ankle, lying in a pool of blood. “Suzy, either come back to me. Or I die again and go back to when you loved me most.” Susanna’s POV Carson and I had been married for five years. From campus sweethearts to married couple-everyone said he was crazy about me. Only I knew that Carson had never forgotten my roommate, Noelle White. Years ago, during that earthquake, Carson heard my cry for help first. He chose to save me. Noelle bled out and died. That choice became a thorn lodged between us forever. I could only accept Carson keeping Noelle’s belongings, accept that she held a permanent place in his heart. Finally, I couldn’t take it anymore and asked for a divorce. But on the way to finalize it, we got into a car accident. In that moment between life and death, Carson gave me the only chance of survival. Fighting through the pain, he pushed me out of the car. In that moment, I suddenly let it all go. So when I was reborn back to that earthquake, I suppressed my cries for help and watched Carson run toward Noelle’s direction instead. This time, I gave Carson what he’d always wanted. And just like that, Carson and I were even. No more ties between us. The rain seemed lighter now, changing from heavy drumming to a gentle patter. I stood under the convenience store awning holding flowers, surrounded by people seeking shelter. Nearby, some young women huddled together chatting. I poked my head out to check the sky. Looked like the rain would continue for a while. The leg that got crushed in the earthquake six months ago had lingering problems. It ached badly now, leaving me restless and irritable. Six months had passed since my rebirth, and I hadn’t seen Carson once in all that time. In my previous life, I was the one who asked for divorce. We’d been married ten years. To outsiders, Carson had it all-good family background, handsome looks, completely devoted to me, never fooling around with other women. But only I knew that at home, Carson never showed me affection. Even our marital duties felt like checking off a task. We only got married because our families pushed us together. Carson’s heart belonged entirely to Noelle. Since Noelle was dead, he didn’t care who his wife was. He even kept a room in our house covered wall-to-wall with Noelle’s photos. I cried about it. I fought about it. But all I got back was Carson saying, “You owe her this.” But I never could have imagined that when the car accident came, Carson would be the one to push me out of the car. I knelt outside the wreckage, trying to pull Carson out, but he was trapped too tightly. The car was about to explode. Carson fought through the pain and pried my hands away. “This time I don’t owe you anything, Susanna.” In that final moment, he disappeared in a sea of flames. And I was reborn back to that earthquake. I was pinned under a beam, my left leg pierced through by rebar, barely breathing. Memories from my past and present lives tangled chaotically, making my head throb. But the moment I saw young Carson stumbling toward me, I instinctively clamped my hand over my mouth. As long as I stayed silent this time, Carson would save Noelle instead. He wouldn’t be pressured by our families into marrying me because he saved my life. I endured the searing pain in my leg and watched Carson run toward Noelle’s location without looking back. Only then did I relax. I watched his figure disappear from view, and my consciousness faded. I woke up in the hospital. My left leg had been crushed for too long and was badly damaged. The doctor said I’d need extensive recovery. So I spent nearly two months in that hospital bed. On the day I was discharged, an old classmate who came to visit mentioned Carson in passing. Carson had successfully saved Noelle back then. He got to her in time-she wasn’t seriously hurt. Apparently Carson even confessed at Noelle’s bedside, and now they were officially together. You could see couple photos on their social media. My classmate went on and on, though their tone was a bit disapproving. These people all knew that Carson had been chasing me relentlessly since high school, following me around like a puppy every day. Everyone practically assumed we’d end up together. I lowered my head and slowly folded a hospital receipt in my hands. Carson must have been reborn too. This time, he made a completely different choice without hesitation, running to the person he truly wanted to save. That was good. I didn’t want anything to do with Carson anymore anyway. Starting over, we could just return to our original paths.

Susanna’s POV Lost in thought, two short honks interrupted me. Startled, I looked up to see a black Maybach stopped by the curb. The passenger window rolled down, revealing Carson’s expressionless profile. His gaze faced forward-he wasn’t looking at me. Noelle leaned over from the driver’s seat, waving enthusiastically with a bright voice. “Is that you, Suzy? What a coincidence! Hard to get a cab in this rain, right? Get in, we’ll drive you home!” I instinctively wanted to shake my head and refuse. My lips had barely moved when Carson’s cold, hard voice cut me off. “Get in. Don’t waste time-Noelle has reservations at that French restaurant soon.” His tone carried impatient urgency. I froze at this sudden scolding. Noelle beside him shrugged and waved at me, gesturing for me to get in. I pressed my lips together, glanced at my aching leg, and finally pulled open the door and slid into the back seat. The car’s interior was spacious, the heater turned up high, instantly dispelling the damp cold outside. I huddled in the window seat with my bouquet of lilies, head down, looking at the pure white petals. Glancing up unconsciously, I caught Carson’s eyes in the rearview mirror. I flinched and looked away, staring straight ahead. After that brief moment of eye contact, Carson also looked away, focusing on the traffic ahead. The car merged smoothly into traffic. Carson drove in silence. Aside from the occasional turn signal, the only sound in the car was Noelle’s cheerful voice. She seemed in high spirits, jumping from topic to topic-how amazing the desserts would be at the restaurant, to an art exhibition next week, to suddenly wanting new car decorations. I only dared to nod slightly when she paused and her gaze seemed to sweep toward me, as acknowledgment. My reactions were always half a beat slow. Noelle’s rapid-fire topic changes often left me unsure how to respond. Usually at times like this, Noelle would naturally turn to Carson instead, or just start humming to herself. But today, Noelle’s voice suddenly stopped. That brief silence felt oddly abrupt in the warm car. I was staring absently out the window when I heard Noelle’s voice turn toward me. “Suzy, are you still mad at me?” Called out by name, I snapped back to attention and instinctively looked up. I met Noelle’s hurt gaze as she half-turned from the passenger seat. She lowered her head, long lashes drooping, eyes quickly reddening, voice breaking into tears. “Suzy, I know… I know you must hate me.” “Even though you were the one who introduced us back then. Of course, I’m grateful for that now.” “But, but you can’t help who you fall for.” “Carson likes me now, and I don’t want to lose you as a friend. Can’t you stop being angry and just let us be together?” I opened my mouth, the words “I’m not upset” still lodged in my throat, when Carson suddenly braked and pulled to the curb. He unbuckled his seatbelt, leaned over, and wiped Noelle’s tears with his fingertips, impossibly gentle. The tenderness in his eyes nearly spilled over. “Don’t cry, Noelle.” Something lightly struck my chest, leaving a dull ache. In five years of marriage, Carson had never looked at me that way. I was always the understanding wife who didn’t need comforting. The bitterness in my heart flashed and passed. I turned to look at Noelle, tears streaming down her face. Her sudden accusation left me stunned, my mind struggling to catch up. “I… I’m not upset…” The words barely left my mouth when a sharp click echoed through the car. The doors unlocked. Carson held Noelle close, cast me a cold look, his voice ice-cold. “Get out.” Noelle sobbed, leaning against Carson’s side while saying to me. “Suzy, I’m sorry, I’m not feeling well right now. Can you just go home by yourself?” Noelle was still Noelle-the princess who needed the whole world to revolve around her moods. I didn’t say another word. I reached for the door handle, grabbed my slightly crushed bouquet of lilies, and got out. The cold wind immediately wrapped around me, dispersing the car’s abundant warmth. I didn’t look back at the black car stopped behind me.

Susanna’s POV I walked to the roadside just as an empty taxi drove past. I flagged it down and gave my address. As the car drove smoothly away, I buried my face in the damp bouquet of lilies and took a deep breath. The fragrance cleared away the lingering stuffiness in my chest. I touched the petals and muttered quietly. “Those two lunatics… if my husband knew what happened today…” The thought came naturally. I paused slightly, then the corners of my mouth curved up involuntarily, a faint smile appearing in my eyes. Yes, I was already married. To Holden Hayes, someone my parents introduced me to. Surprisingly, we hit it off right from our first meeting. I had a mild, calm personality. Holden leaned toward the gentle type. He came from a police background but had an unexpectedly tender, thoughtful nature. With him, I felt relaxed. And just like that, we rushed into marriage. Holden had asked me to pick up the flowers today. He said it was to celebrate that my leg was almost fully healed. He was originally supposed to have the day off and drive me home. But just as he was about to leave, the police station called with an emergency. A case he was handling had a development, and he had to rush back immediately. So I picked up the flowers myself, not expecting to run into this downpour the moment I stepped outside. I had to scramble for shelter under the convenience store awning, where I happened to run into Carson and Noelle. The taxi entered the familiar neighborhood. I paid and got out, carrying the flowers toward the entrance. When I got home, I placed the flowers on the cabinet in the entryway, changed into slippers, and slowly walked into the bedroom. I was a bit tired. Though I’d mentally prepared myself to have no connection with Carson, today’s encounter still drained considerable energy. Plus I’d walked a short distance on the way back, and drowsiness washed over me again. I changed into pajamas and lay down, pulling the curtains closed. The room instantly dimmed, and I drifted off to sleep in a daze. Perhaps because I’d seen Carson today, those deliberately buried memories slipped uncontrollably into my dreams. I dreamed of Carson. Not the cold, distant Carson of now, but from earlier times-the Carson whose heart and eyes were full of me. From my earliest memories, Carson had followed behind me. His personality actually wasn’t warm and outgoing-he was even somewhat aloof, always maintaining a mature demeanor in front of others. Only around me would he unconsciously relax, even tugging at my sleeve and acting cute in that voice only I could hear. His family background was far better than mine. We could stick together so much thanks to our families being close. But when applying to universities, he didn’t even look at other schools. Wherever I applied, he followed. This behavior gave me the wrong idea. I’d always thought I was loved by Carson. Until shortly after starting freshman year, I brought Carson to meet my roommates. Noelle wore a newly bought dress, running down the stairs with a bright smile, waving hello in our direction. I was about to make introductions when I felt the hand that had been holding mine suddenly let go. I turned my head and saw Carson’s gaze fixed on Noelle, a dazed smile appearing on his face. At this point in the dream, I frowned uneasily against the pillow. I instinctively tried to turn over, to escape these increasingly vivid images. My body had barely moved when I felt a gentle tightness around my waist, then fell into a warm, solid embrace. Someone adjusted their arm very gently to let me rest more comfortably. A palm patted my back soothingly with careful, measured pressure, as if afraid of disturbing me. I woke from the restless sleep and opened my eyes, vision still a bit blurry. A warm breath brushed across the top of my head. I blinked, fully awake now, and tilted my head up slightly. Holden was looking down at me. Seeing me awake, the arm around me didn’t let go, just relaxed the pressure slightly. His voice was low and husky, but his tone gentle. “Leg hurting again? Having nightmares?” I smiled and moved closer on my own, lightly kissing Holden’s Adam’s apple. After stumbling so badly with Carson, I’d gradually figured out a pattern. Sometimes with relationships, you had to be a bit proactive. Holden let out a muffled grunt at my kiss, his Adam’s apple bobbing. He used his solid thigh to shift me up a bit, holding me tighter. “Nightmare?” He stroked my head, his dark brown eyes looking at me tenderly. Holden stood nearly six-three, broad-shouldered with long legs. Years of training gave him an excellent physique. But he had an overly gentle face, with warm eyes that drooped slightly at the corners, like some large canine. Steady and reliable with an indescribable honest straightforwardness underneath. His gaze made my ears burn. I reached up to cover his eyes. Holden’s lashes fluttered against my palm, tickling it with fine, dense sensations. “Mm,” I admitted honestly. “I dreamed about Carson.” Holden paused, the arm around me unconsciously tightening. “Still thinking about him?” I shook my head, cheek pressed against his warm chest, listening to the steady heartbeat inside. “Just occasional dreams.” I was telling the truth.

Susanna’s POV Those intense feelings of love and hate for Carson had gradually faded over these months. Maybe because of the rebirth, those bits and pieces of time spent with him now felt like distant memories. I had loved Carson. I had also hated Carson. I hated that he didn’t love me but married me anyway. I hated even more that he saved me, leaving me forever carrying the shackles of that debt. But as the one who was saved, I didn’t even have the standing to question him. Those years of distant marriage were Carson’s greatest revenge against me. Yet he still saved me in that car accident. Carson used his last strength to push me out of the car, choosing to stay in those flames clutching Noelle’s photo. In that moment, all my hatred suddenly dissipated. Starting over, I let him go and let myself go, only asking that we never cross paths again. Outside the window, the sky had darkened without me noticing. Distant sounds of passing cars drifted over. The bedroom had no lights on, the dimness settling in. Holden didn’t press further. He just lowered his head and nuzzled the top of my head with his chin. This gesture was so characteristic of him-like a large dog comforting a sad human, carrying intense but clumsy soothing intent. “Hungry? I’ll go make something.” I shook my head, wrapping my arms around his neck and nestling deeper into his embrace. “Hold me a bit longer.” Holden went still, just holding me, his palm patting my back on and off, like soothing a child. After a while, I suddenly remembered something and looked up. “Didn’t you have an emergency today? How did you get back so fast?” “Situation changed temporarily. Problem with the evidence chain, had to put it on hold.” Holden explained, his fingers unconsciously curling around a strand of my hair. “The team told me to come home and rest first, deal with it tomorrow.” He made it sound casual. But I knew he’d been working around the clock on that case for days, always with faint shadows under his eyes. “Should you sleep for a bit?” I looked up and asked. “Not tired. Holding you is more refreshing than sleep.” Such a straightforward statement. The heat that had just left my face started creeping back. I lightly tapped his shoulder. Holden laughed softly, his chest vibrating slightly. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. His clean, soapy scent filled my nose. It made me feel safe This was good. Perfect. The next morning, Holden left earlier than usual. The case he’d been working on had reached a critical point. The department was pushing hard. He lingered at the door for a long time, holding my hand, his chin hooked over my shoulder, grumbling about not wanting to go to work. It took me laughing and nudging him, telling him he’d be late, before he finally let go. He dipped his head quickly, brushed his lips against mine, then turned and headed downstairs. His footsteps gradually faded in the stairwell. I closed the door, smiling as I turned to clear the dishes from the table. Outside the kitchen window, the sky was a pale gray-blue with a few wisps of clouds hanging lazily. Water rushing, I carefully rinsed the cups, planning to hit the supermarket later to buy some of the pastries Holden loved. Just as I set the washed cup on the rack, someone knocked at the door. Three measured knocks. I dried my hands, thinking it must be Holden, probably forgot his keys or some documents. Still smiling, I walked over, gripped the door handle, and gently pulled it open. “What did you forget this time?” The words cut off abruptly. Standing outside wasn’t Holden. It was Carson. He came alone, wearing a finely tailored black cashmere sweater with matching trousers that made his skin look even paler. His hair wasn’t slicked back meticulously like yesterday-it fell softly with a few strands across his forehead. Standing in this somewhat messy hallway, he seemed out of place with an air of cool refinement. I didn’t speak, hand on the door, making no move to let him in. Carson’s gaze lingered on my face for a moment. Then he turned sideways and slipped through the narrow gap between me and the doorframe. As naturally as if he were coming home. He knew this place. Didn’t even need to look it up-just showed up. In my previous life after we married, I insisted on living here, saying this old neighborhood had character and was close to my office. He had better apartments and locations under his name, but he gave in to me. The room’s layout was mostly the same as in the previous life. Carson looked around, his gaze finally settling back on me. Someone’s door opened and closed in the hallway, bringing faint sounds of conversation. But inside, the silence seemed to stretch impossibly. Only an occasional sparrow passed by the window, making brief chirps. I looked up at Carson standing in the middle of the living room. Walked forward a few steps and sat at the dining table. Setting aside my own pitiful perspective, objectively speaking. In my previous life, Carson as a husband never shortchanged me materially and respected my basic needs. I was just too young then, too dependent on him, treating him as my only lifeline, unable to see the truth. Instead, my tears and arguments only pushed him further away. Now, stepping outside that circle, only calm remained in my heart. Meeting his gaze, I smiled, trying to seem as peaceful as usual. “Is there something you need?” Carson looked at me, his eyes darkening. He pressed his lips together, his voice controlled and measured when he spoke. “You have a boyfriend?” Such an abrupt question, even crossing boundaries. We’d gone nearly three or four months without seeing each other face-to-face, and our relationship had faded considerably. He didn’t care about any of that. He actually acted like he had the right to ask. His gaze drifted back to my face. “Susanna, even though I’m with Noelle now, you don’t have to settle for just anyone.” He paused, as if he were genuinely looking out for me, like I was some reckless child who didn’t know any better. The arrogance in Carson’s eyes nearly spilled over. “You want me to introduce you to someone? I know a few guys with decent prospects.” He waited quietly, watching for my reaction.

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