Author: Momo Chan

After seven years of a long-distance marriage with River Dustin, I finally got pregnant. I quit my job and went downstairs to his company building, planning to surprise him. “Honey, where are you?” Seeing him come out, I called out excitedly. “Just got off work. What’s up?” His voice was warm. I was about to wave when I saw a pregnant woman walking out behind him. He turned, pulled her into his arms, and kissed her on the mouth. Then he said into the phone. “Something came up. I’ll call you back.” The line went dead. I stood in the cold wind, tears streaming down my face, falling onto the pregnancy test report in my hand. My blood pressure spiked. My vision went black, and my exhausted body drifted down like a leaf. Before I lost consciousness completely, I thought I heard a woman’s startled cry. I barely caught the shock and panic on River’s face. When I woke, I was in the hospital. River sat on a sofa across the room, staring intently at a report in his hands. Dressed in a suit. Polished. Refined. Nothing like the low-level office worker he’d pretended to be. Seeing me open my eyes, the woman enthusiastically approached me. “You’re awake! I’m Summer Fields. You fainted from low blood sugar last night.” “The doctor said you just got pregnant, and your condition is very unstable. You can’t run around alone.” “Where’s your husband? Why isn’t he with you?” The woman’s voice was sweet, with an unconscious lilt. She was clearly already pregnant, yet she still radiated the aura of an innocent girl who knew nothing of the world. I could tell she’d been very well taken care of. Worlds apart from me, who haggled loudly with vendors at the farmers market over a few cents. “He’s dead.” Dead in my heart. Dead the moment I saw the truth. As soon as I spoke, a burning gaze shot toward me from across the room. I stubbornly and silently turned my head away. I didn’t want to look pitiful, but my eyes still reddened despite myself. “Oh no, don’t cry! You just got pregnant, you need to take good care of yourself!” “River said that when you’re pregnant, you can’t cry, can’t get angry, can’t do housework, and also can’t…” Summer bit her blood-red lips, trying hard to remember, and finally had to turn to River for help. “Honey, I forgot…what else am I not allowed to do?” That word made my chest tighten. Something flickered in River’s eyes, just briefly. Then his expression softened into that familiar, doting look he saved for Summer. “Silly. You also can’t eat crab, can’t get cold, and definitely no coffee every day.” “What! I don’t even drink coffee. I’m a milk tea girl!” Summer wrinkled her nose and hummed coquettishly, blaming River for forgetting her preferences. But I understood. That last sentence was actually meant for me. After all, I loved gulping down cup after cup of coffee when pulling all-nighters on reports, just so I could get ahead faster and transfer to the city where he was. But now it seemed that all that desperate effort and struggle was just a joke. Even this kind of casual concern came as an afterthought while he was loving another woman. My chest ached unbearably. I just wanted to leave as quickly as possible. I threw back the covers to get out of bed. River’s body moved, but ultimately he didn’t stand up. Instead, it was Summer who hurried over to stop me. “Where are you going? You’re not worried about the money because this is a VIP room, are you?” “Don’t worry, my husband is the richest man in New York. This little bit of money is nothing to him.”

“The richest man in New York?” My movement froze. I looked up in disbelief. This person who was supposedly drowning in debt, forcing me to stay and work thousands of miles away while taking care of his seriously ill parents for seven years-he was the richest man in New York? “That’s right!” Summer looked completely proud. She pulled out her phone, searched for old news articles, and held it up to me. “See? Seven years ago, when we had our arranged marriage, he was already the richest man in New York.” “Not that I don’t deserve some credit. I did bring a very generous amount of money.” I took the phone. My breath caught as I read the headlines. “A Real-Life Fairytale! The Century Wedding of the Heir and Heiress That Shocked the City!” “From Empire to Legacy: River Dustin and Summer Fields’ Romantic Alliance. A Modern-Day Love in a Fallen City!” At the bottom of the article was a date I recognized. It was the same time he insisted on moving to New York without discussion. The only time we ever had a cold war. So that argument was premeditated. So when I couldn’t sleep all night, clutching my phone and crying over him, he was sweating on top of another woman. So in this marriage, I… was actually the one who came later. Sourness and grief rose in my throat without warning. I choked up and began to dry-heave uncontrollably. The sound seemed to affect Summer too. Her stomach turned, and she started feeling sick. “Honey…” “Doctor! Help!” Before she finished speaking, River pulled her into his arms. Several doctors rushed in from outside, pushing a wheelchair, anxiously taking her out of the room. The surroundings instantly became empty. I vomited bile, tears dripping onto the floor, but only the hospital room door swayed mockingly in the wind. I still remembered when we got married, River knelt before my mother’s grave and swore he would take care of me for the rest of his life. But it turned out even his vows were lies. I collapsed weakly onto the bed. I don’t know how long passed before River came back alone. As if nothing had happened, he sat by my bed and carefully, patiently peeled a green apple. “Eat some of this. It’ll help a lot with morning sickness.” The sweet and sour aroma spread through the air. But by the time it reached my nose, only bitterness remained. This was probably also something he learned little by little while taking care of Summer. “Who are you? Do I know you?” “Should I call you River Dustin, or Mr. Dustin?” I looked at him with sad mockery. The air fell silent for a few seconds. River sighed softly and admitted it without hesitation. “Yes, I lied to you. So what?” “I’m the sole heir to the Dustin Group. You’re a scholarship kid from some small town with no connections. We were never on the same page. How could they ever have accepted us?” “Isn’t this better? You’re still the one I love most, and I’m still playing the devoted husband.” “Can’t you be understanding and sympathize with my position?” Good husband? I looked at him in disbelief. For the sake of ridiculous lies, making me give up a high-level management job in New York and trapping me in a small county town thousands of miles away-that’s being a good husband? Making me revolve around a three-foot stove like a clueless donkey who only wanted to be a good housewife-that’s loving me? How absurd. I dodged his hand reaching to fix my hair, suppressing my nausea, and responded coldly. “We’re divorcing immediately.” He refused without a second thought. “No.” “Then I’ll report you for bigamy! I’ll have you thrown in jail! That should get us divorced!” I could no longer control myself and screamed hysterically. But he just looked at me and shook his head lightly, his voice floating into my ears. “Ember, you can’t report me.”

“Why?” I gripped the sheets tightly, an answer emerging in my mind. Sure enough. The next second I heard him say. “Because the marriage certificate is fake, the parents are fake, and the friends and family at the wedding were fake too.” “Everything was carefully arranged by me.” “Ember, how are you going to report me?” His tone was too calm, as if discussing what to have for lunch tomorrow. But my heart grew colder and colder. How could the boy who once knelt before 31 floors and 186 households during the pandemic, just to get me half a tablet of ibuprofen-how could he lie to me? When my mother was hospitalized for three years, he was the one who stayed by her side day and night. He saved the sweetest part of the watermelon for me, and only bought new clothes for me. Even the pictures of snakes, insects, and toads in textbooks were folded over page by page because I was afraid of them. But now he personally told me. Everything I cherished most was all fake. “Fine, then I’ll leave right now and stay far away from you for the rest of my life. That should be okay, right?” His dark eyes held mine for a long time. Then he pulled me into his arms and kissed me like a storm, as if trying to melt me into his bones. No matter how I struggled, he wouldn’t let go. Then a knock came at the door. “Mr. Dustin, your wife is here.” “Mm.” He lifted his head, breathing unsteady. I slapped him without hesitation. He caught my wrist and, eyes red, pressed his lips to my palm. “Don’t tell Summer about us. You can’t bear the consequences.” “She wants you to accompany her for maternity photos tomorrow. Be good and go, or she won’t be happy.” Every word was a command. He quickly straightened his clothes and turned to leave. Outside the door were bodyguards, and inside I soon received a transfer notification. Two million dollars. This amount used to be so unattainable for me. But now it was just his most insignificant means of pleasing Summer. Early the next morning, I was picked up and brought to a photography studio. As soon as I went upstairs, I saw River massaging Summer’s calves and rubbing her feet, while the surrounding staff members looked on enviously. I stood frozen in place, suddenly remembering long ago. River had studied massage techniques on his phone for ages, giving me relaxation massages every night just to relieve my headaches and back strain. Back then, I thought his love and tenderness were mine alone. I truly believed we would grow old together. I never imagined I’d one day watch him be tender with another woman. And I was the “other woman,” standing by. The ache in my chest nearly swallowed me. My eyes reddened. I lowered my head. But Summer called me over cheerfully. “Ember, you’re finally here! Help me pick which sets to shoot!” I pointed at random in the album. Summer’s face fell. “What should I do? Ember likes this set, but I still want to shoot the other one more.” Hearing this, River immediately took away the album, directly tearing out the photo I had chosen, and kissed her forehead indulgently. “It’s okay. What she thinks doesn’t matter. What matters is what you like.” “There, now it’s settled. Have her choose again.” Summer laughed coquettishly and put the album in front of me again, looking at me expectantly. I looked at that intimate couple’s photo, my finger slowly reaching out, heavily tapping on it. That phrase “doesn’t matter” kept echoing in my ears. So it was because he felt my feelings didn’t matter that River could lie to me without scruple and ask me to compromise without a care. In this relationship, he had always held the upper hand. And I never had a say. Summer walked off, satisfied, to change. I sat on the sofa, staring blankly as River posed for her camera.

He kissed her swollen belly, his face full of happiness. He held her, showing the ultrasound to the camera, his possessiveness fierce. He wore cute outfits he’d never tried before, cooperating with her playful poses. The scenes were warm and sweet. In the non-stop flashing lights, I suddenly saw the scene of taking wedding photos with River. The photos were simple, just a few taken with a phone. He wore a gray-black cotton coat, I wore a cheap veil. Even though we were freezing in the cold wind, blowing white puffs of breath, our faces were full of sweetness. Snowflakes filled the sky, growing old together. To me back then, that was happiness, that was fulfillment. But now, that phantom I thought I had firmly grasped had finally shattered. “Ember, come quick and help me see which of these two is better!” Summer summoned me again. River quietly cast his gaze on me. I braced myself on my stiff, numb legs and stood, then walked into the changing room. Only Summer and I were left inside. “Ember, how do you think our photoshoot went?” Her tone carried an edge I didn’t catch at first. “What?” “Nothing.” She still smiled sweetly at me. But as her arm reached for the clothing rack, all the gorgeous, exquisite dresses came crashing down. Heavy steel poles all smashed onto my lower back. She screamed and backed away, drawing people from outside. “Summer! Where are you!” “River, I’m here! Come save me!” River immediately rushed over and protected her pale face in his arms. Just as he was about to have the bodyguards help me, he heard her weak voice. “River… my belly…” She fainted after speaking, and River quickly scooped her up. But my abdomen felt severe stabbing pain. I desperately reached toward him, using all my strength to call his name. His jaw tensed. He clearly heard me, but he never looked back. Blood quickly stained the wedding dress hem. I clearly felt my abdomen gradually growing cold, until something was pulled out of my body. I don’t know how long passed before I woke from the nightmare. Summer’s smiling face came into view, very similar to the scene when I first entered the hospital. But this time, her eyes held a scheming I couldn’t understand. “Illegitimate children have equal inheritance rights. Do you really think I’d let you give birth to this child?” My pupils contracted sharply. I pressed my belly in disbelief. The scene of blood everywhere before I fainted kept flashing in my mind. “You knew… the baby… my baby…” Seven years ago, the doctor diagnosed me with blocked fallopian tubes, making it almost impossible for me to have children. And this baby gave me my only chance to be a mother! But… “The baby’s gone, isn’t it! My baby is gone!” I broke down crying and shouting. But Summer calmly closed her eyes and gently pressed her finger to her lips. “Shh, not enough yet.” She supported herself and slowly sat on the floor, smiling triumphantly at me. The next second, she let out a piercing scream. River happened to return with the little cake she wanted. He burst through the door and carefully helped her up. “Summer, what’s wrong!” “Ember said I killed her baby, so she deliberately pushed me and wants my baby to pay with its life! What should I do? I really didn’t mean to!” Summer turned back into that innocent, pitiful appearance. River looked up fiercely and condemned me without hesitation. “You couldn’t protect your own child, and you dare blame Summer! Someone, send her to Nightshade Auction!” “No! River Dustin, I have nothing to do with you. You have no right to do this!” Everyone knew Nightshade was New York’s biggest den of vice. Women sent there for auction were either gang-raped to disability or death! But before I could even struggle, I was already slung over a bodyguard’s shoulder. “Tell Nightshade her starting bid is one dollar. Only gambling debt cripples are allowed to raise their cards!” “No! No! River Dustin, let me go! I’m not your wife. What gives you the right to do this?!” “I won’t go! I don’t want the baby anymore! I don’t want your-!” Before I could finish, a hand clamped over my mouth. The bodyguard beside me lowered his voice. “Miss Ember, rest assured. Mr. Dustin will find someone else to take your place.” “It has to look like a misunderstanding. We’ll keep you safe the whole time. You won’t get hurt.” The elevator door closed quickly. But the bodyguard soon let out a muffled groan and collapsed. I was terrified. Amid futile struggling, I was stuffed into a sack by another group of people. “Miss Summer already knew he left a backup plan. She specifically had us wait here for you. Just accept your fate.” I was completely hopeless, letting my tears fall. But before we even reached the first floor, the elevator door opened eerily. Someone stood in the shadows outside, their eyes extremely sinister. “You… how is this possible…” The people in the elevator looked terrified, as if they’d seen a ghost, fumbling for their phones. But I stared at that blurry figure and couldn’t hold on any longer. I collapsed. Whether I lived or died this time- River Dustin, I never wanted to see you again.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “357641”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster #浪漫Romance #现实主义Realistic #重生Reborn #校园School

In a fit of anger, I bought a train ticket and rushed back to my hometown overnight. But I never expected the train to enter some kind of time tunnel. I only slept for 8 hours on the train, yet fifteen whole years had passed in the outside world. “Your parents died ten years ago. Is there anyone else we can contact?” the police officer asked. Dead? Just the day before, I had talked to them on the phone. Mom even said she was going to make my favorite pizza. How could they be dead? I held back my tears and gave them my husband’s number. “Sorry, the number you have dialed is no longer in service…” The officer looked at me awkwardly. But the next second, I pointed at the giant screen on the building outside and said: “He can come get me! He’s my husband!” All the officers taking statements stopped what they were doing and stared at me in shock. This whole situation was truly bizarre, but looking at the bustling police station and the towering buildings outside, I had to accept that everyone on this train—over 300 people—had traveled through time. “Are you saying it’s really 2025?” “Yes, ma’am. Today is October 1st, 2025.” The female officer’s eyes were full of sympathy. I looked around in confusion. There were over 300 passengers on this train, all brought here for questioning. At first, not only did the police not believe us, we thought we’d been scammed. After all, we all looked exactly the same as when we boarded—how could fifteen years have passed in a single night? But faced with genuine ID cards and rapidly advanced technology, we had no choice but to accept reality. “So besides your parents, is there anyone else who can come pick you up?” On the verge of a breakdown, I instinctively gave them Torres’s number. But as soon as I said it, I regretted it. That man who promised to protect me for life had long since betrayed our marriage. “Sorry, the number you have dialed is no longer in service…” Out of service. So he canceled his phone number and got together with Mia, didn’t he? My heart ached for no reason, making my breathing rapid. After three years missing, you can be declared dead and automatically widowed. And I’d been missing for fifteen years. “Ma’am, if there’s really no one who can pick you up, then we can only…” “Him! He can come get me!” I pointed at the hundred-inch screen outside. Torres was on it, wearing a black suit. The scar on his forehead was from our senior year of high school, when he risked his life to protect me and got hit in the head with a beer bottle by some thugs. Back then, his eyebrow was permanently missing a corner, and he radiated an aura that said “don’t mess with me.” He was rough around the edges, and no girl could get close to him except me. He was completely different from the refined gentleman on that screen. But now he seemed like a perfect match for Mia—the rebel finally met the cool, aloof woman who could tame him. But why should I, the legitimate wife, end up being the mistress! So I refused to contact anyone else. I wanted Torres to come get me. I wanted to wedge myself into their loving relationship at its peak, to disgust them both. Just like they did to me—one second letting me bask in the joy of a happy marriage, the next forcing me to tear that dream apart with my own hands. “Are you… sure?” The female officer looked at me with some concern. At the same time, every officer in the station stopped what they were doing and looked at me with disbelief. Some were mocking, some envious. This scene confirmed my suspicions—Torres was doing well now. Or rather, he’d become a big shot, which was why he could appear on that giant screen. “I’m sure. Before I got on that train, he was still my legal husband.” Seeing my determination, the officer could only comply. Torres wasn’t easy to reach now. The officer made calls and contacted supervisors, and an hour later the call finally went through. But the voice on the other end wasn’t his.

“Hello, this is the MT Group CEO’s office. How may I help you?” MT. Marta? Why would he name his company using my initials? Did he still have feelings for me? “Hello, this is the police station. We need to speak with Torres. Please transfer the call.” “Beep, beep, beep… Hello?” Only ten seconds passed, but it felt like ten years. Hearing that familiar voice on the other end, my heart jumped into my throat. What if he looked at me with disgust? What if he really had married Mia and had children! I suddenly regretted this. I shouldn’t have acted so impulsively. “Is this Mr. Torres? This is the police station,” the officer asked. “Yes, how can I help you?” I nervously picked at my nails, holding my breath, shoulders hunched, not daring to look at the officer, but my attention was completely on that phone call. “This may sound strange, but I need you to trust me. We’ve found Ms. Marta, who went missing fifteen years ago. She’s right here beside me, and we need you to come pick her up.” He seemed shocked, as he didn’t respond for a long time. The ticking of the second hand fell into my heart, and everything around me seemed to slow down. Just as my face turned red from holding my breath and I was about to give up— “No need…” “Alright, I’ll be there shortly.” I breathed a sigh of relief and sat quietly in the chair, watching as passengers were gradually picked up by their families. Some wept with joy and embraced each other, while others glared at each other with resentment. It seemed there were quite a few people in situations like mine. Many spouses had given up searching in the second year of our disappearance and started new families. So our reappearance became a burden and inconvenience. This made me nervous again. When I saw Torres, how should I face him? Would he blame me for disrupting his current life? Extreme anxiety clouded my mind, so much so that I didn’t even notice when it got dark outside. “Why don’t you come home with me for now?” the officer suggested kindly. I looked around in confusion and realized all the passengers were gone. I was the only one left with no one to claim me. “Tap, tap, tap!” Urgent footsteps echoed in the hallway, and then a tall young man walked toward me, holding a yellowed photograph. “Are you Marta?” I nodded. “I’m so sorry, there was traffic. I just arrived. Torres sent me to pick you up.” Not seeing Torres, I felt a bit disappointed, yet also unconsciously relieved. The procedure for claiming someone was simple—just sign a form. Marta—Mark. But the person signing in the column next to my name was a man I’d known for less than a minute. Not a father, not a husband. “This way, please.” Following Mark’s lead, I came to a black sedan. Should it still be called a sedan? Though it was bigger and better-looking than the cars from our time. I didn’t expect Torres to be sitting in the car. Just like on the giant screen, he wore a black suit and tie, meticulous and focused, his hands swiping at some kind of technological device. Memory suddenly took me back to when we were preparing for our wedding. He was naturally free-spirited and hated constraints—with people and with clothes. Getting him to wear a suit for our wedding photos took several days of coaxing. If I hadn’t finally said “If you won’t wear it, I’ll find someone else to marry,” he probably would have shown up shirtless at the wedding. Now I think maybe the first time he wore a suit wasn’t for me. Mia was the famous good girl and model student in our department. At first, I never thought the rebellious Torres could win her over. But three months later, they really got together. For her, Torres not only abandoned the brothers who had followed him for years, but also shaved his head, wore a newsboy cap, and pretended to be a good student. Why do I say “pretended”? Because I knew “wild” was in his bones, so his romance with Mia only lasted a month. I’d known him since childhood. To me, he’d only been absent from my life for one month, and then we naturally got together, all the way to marriage, all the way to our anniversary, when I saw him walking with Mia. My thoughts returned to the present. Mark had already opened the back door for me. “Marta is here.” Hearing the reminder, Torres finally looked up at me. Our eyes met. Not the joy or disgust I’d imagined. Just calm.

“Marta?” Yesterday morning I’d kissed this face, but now it felt so unfamiliar. “Yeah.” I nodded and sat beside him. The cramped space immediately made the atmosphere subtle. He remained focused on his work, no small talk, no awkward silence. My appearance seemed to create no ripples in his heart. This made me feel dejected. Come on, even if you hate me and want to kick me out, you should at least say it to my face. So I chose to take the initiative: “When my parents died, did they know you cheated on me?” “Hiss!” Someone sucked in a cold breath. The air pressure in the car plummeted. Though the car was sealed, I suddenly felt cold. I didn’t miss Torres’s slightly furrowed brow, or the flash of anger in his eyes. Was he angry that I’d labeled his beloved Mia as a mistress? “That never happened. Naturally, they didn’t know.” “Rest well today. Another day I’ll take you to pay respects to them.” Never happened? So he meant that he and Mia broke it off after I disappeared? Then why did Mark call me “Ms. Marta” instead of “Mrs.”? The atmosphere froze again. I suppressed my anger and refused to look at him, turning instead to the outside world. The dazzling commercial district, and skyscrapers reaching into the clouds. Everywhere I looked, countless giant screens glowed in broad daylight. The celebrities looked like they were standing inside them. The entire world existed in a kaleidoscope of colors. “Honey, honey, what is that!” I instinctively patted Torres’s hand, pointing at a giant cube outside the car window. A massive hand suddenly extending from it scared me. By the time I reacted, my head had already buried itself in Torres’s chest. His body stiffened. He didn’t touch me or push me away. “Sorry, I’m not used to my current status yet.” My face flushed red instantly. I quickly sat back, but afraid of that giant hand appearing again, I sneakily glanced out the window. The giant hand had disappeared. A forest had appeared inside instead. “That’s 3D technology. It gives people an immersive experience.” He patted the sleeve I’d grabbed, still looking at whatever was in his hands without expression. Probably work content. “So it’s fake?” “Yes.” After about another half hour, the car stopped. Outside was a magnificent castle. “Ms. Marta, we’ve arrived at the hotel. You can rest well here tonight.” So he hadn’t come to take me home. “I’m not going anywhere. I just want to go home. Torres, take me home!” I said angrily. That house was bought with my parents’ life savings. Even if he remarried, he couldn’t be living there with Mia. Even if he really was leaving me, he should at least explain things clearly!

Perhaps hearing the anger in my voice, he finally put down what he was holding and faced me properly. “I’m sorry, the old house was demolished and redeveloped. Stay here tonight, and tomorrow I’ll take you to choose a house you like, okay?” Mark also tried to persuade me: “That’s right, all the old houses were demolished. It’s a shopping mall now. You’ve had a long day—why not just make do here tonight?” Another shopping mall! I got out of the car and slammed the door hard. I wanted to part ways with him right then and there, but Mark didn’t lead the way. Just as I was confused, Torres got out of the car too. I thought he was going to explain, but he just walked past me toward the hotel entrance. “What’s he doing?” I asked Mark in confusion. “The CEO has to inspect a nearby branch office early tomorrow morning, so he’s staying at the hotel tonight too.” “Oh, in the room next to yours.” What’s there to explain? It’s not like I wanted to sleep in the same room as him. I followed behind him irritably. When I entered the spacious, bright lobby, the luxurious decor left me in awe. Being rich must be nice—you can stay in royal castles. I remember when Torres and I were dating, we’d stayed overnight somewhere too—a run-down inn with a creaky wooden bed. In that environment, we gave ourselves to each other. Though we were poor, we only had eyes and hearts for each other. Not like now. Even though the floor beneath my feet had been carefully cleaned and polished by others, the person standing on it wasn’t the same person anymore. “You’re staying in this room. If you need anything, feel free to call me. There’s a landline by the bed.” The room prepared for me was huge, several times larger than our wedding apartment. There were many things inside I’d never seen before—tiles that produced water just by waving your hand, hot drinks that prepared themselves when you spoke, a huge bed you could sink into just by stepping on it. Everything was so luxurious, so perfect, yet my heart ached unbearably. The emotions I’d suppressed all day suddenly released. Tears fell uncontrollably. “Dad, Mom, Torres betrayed me. He betrayed me!” In one night, I’d lost not only my lover but also my parents. Why? Why did they have to be seen together that day? If I hadn’t gotten on that train, would my mom and dad have come back? I don’t know how long I cried. Suddenly there was a knock at the door. “Who is it!” “It’s me.” Torres? I quickly stood up to compose myself, wiping my face with water, but the tile thing wouldn’t work. Then suddenly a curtain of water poured down from above. “Ah!” By the time I reacted, I was soaked through and had fallen down. “Ding!” The sound of the door unlocking came, and then Torres appeared before me. “What happened!” I looked at him with red eyes, and finally couldn’t hold back my tears. Crying, I said: “I just wanted to wash my face, but I’m not used to the things here. I’m not used to you either!” “Why? Why did I just sleep, and when I woke up everything had changed!” “Wah wah wah!” In the past, whenever I cried, Torres would magically produce candy from his pocket to comfort me. This time was no exception. Looking at the candy before me, I was momentarily surprised. Sometimes I really wondered if he knew magic—otherwise why did he always have candy in his pocket, yet I’d never seen him eat any. “You have sensitive skin. I brought you cotton clothes and left them outside. Eat the candy and go change, so you don’t catch cold. I’ll clean up here.” So he still remembered. I took the candy from his hand, tore open the wrapper and put it in my mouth. The sweet taste instantly filled my mouth. My favorite strawberry flavor. When I finished changing, he’d already prepared hot water and toothpaste for me. Just like every morning after our marriage, except back then I was the one preparing them for him. “Get some rest early after washing up. I’ll sleep on the couch tonight. If you need anything, just call me.” “Did you and…” Did you and Mia get together? The words reached my lips but I couldn’t say them. Forget it, whether they’re together or not, I’ll find out eventually. That night I slept deeply, almost until morning. When I woke up, there was a brand-new dress on the nightstand—the one I couldn’t bear to buy from the store window fifteen years ago. And his figure was long gone from the couch. The company name, strawberry-flavored candy, the dress I’d wanted for so long. So he still loved me, right! Maybe yesterday I was mistaken. Maybe he and Mia weren’t as close as they appeared. Maybe they just ran into each other at the mall. Realizing this, I suddenly felt excited. I wanted to find him quickly and ask clearly. As long as I asked clearly, all of this could pass. He would still be the Torres who only loved me! I quickly washed up and left the room. Mark was waiting right outside the door. “Good morning. Torres instructed me to take you to the restaurant to find him when you woke up.” “Okay, thank you.” When I reached the restaurant, I spotted Torres immediately. But someone else was sitting beside him—Mia. Even after fifteen years, she was still so beautiful and elegant. This made my heart tremble. “Marta? Is that really you!” Seeing me arrive, Torres didn’t look up, but Mia enthusiastically greeted me, walked over and took my hand, examining me carefully. And I just happened to see the dazzling gemstone ring on her right ring finger. No, Marta, calm down. Fifteen years have passed. Everyone should have gotten married. Maybe they’re just friends now! Pull yourself together, Marta. Torres clearly still has feelings for you! Taking a deep breath, I forced a smile to face her. But the next second, Mark’s words sent me straight to hell. He said: “Good morning, Mrs. Torres. Ms. Marta will be in your care today.”

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My boyfriend and I had saved for three years to buy a house, and overnight, half the money vanished. I called to ask him about it, and he answered casually, “Mary saw a bag she liked, so I lent it to her first. Don’t worry, she’ll definitely pay it back.” The next second, his childhood friend Mary posted on Instagram showing off that limited edition bag along with a photo of them together, captioned: “Thank you, darling, for my birthday gift. Friendship forever!” I laughed, then transferred all the remaining $250,000 from our joint account to myself. And that very night, I moved out. William, since your friendship with Mary is so important, you two can be locked together forever. “Alice, are you done throwing your tantrum?” “This time when you move out, don’t come crawling back like a dog begging me to take you back.” William leaned against the bedroom doorframe, arms crossed, looking down at me as I stuffed the last piece of clothing into my suitcase. I didn’t look up, and I didn’t respond. “It’s just $250,000. Is it really worth all this drama?” “Don’t you know what Mary and I are to each other? We’re friends. It’s her birthday—what’s wrong with me getting her something?” “Besides, I told you I lent it to her, didn’t I? She’ll pay it back soon enough.” I finally stopped what I was doing, turned around, and looked at him calmly. Three years of savings for our wedding house. It was supposed to be “together,” but in reality, more than $400,000 of it was money I’d saved penny by penny. For this “future home,” I worked as a designer at the company during the day, took freelance jobs at night, and worked part-time on weekends. I gave up my favorite bubble tea and snacks. The last time I bought new clothes was during last year’s holidays. And William? He’d contributed less than $50,000 total, constantly depositing and withdrawing money for Mary. Today it was a housewarming gift for a friend, tomorrow it was emergency cash for someone’s startup, the day after that it was a funeral for a friend’s dog. Every single time, he said, “Honey, I’ll make it up when I get my bonus.” But I never saw a single one of those bonuses. Now, he’d spent $250,000 on a bag for Mary without batting an eye. He didn’t even bother to give me a heads-up beforehand. If I hadn’t checked the account balance when depositing money today, I might not have discovered it until the account was completely drained. I opened my phone and showed him Mary’s Instagram post. “Lent?” “William, you call this lending?” In the photo, Mary wore that limited edition bag, intimately resting her head on his shoulder. William glanced at it, and instead of showing any guilt, he frowned. “Are you jealous?” “You never cared before. Why are you making such a big deal out of it today?” I laughed—laughed so hard I almost cried. Yes, I’d let it slide before, time after time. I’d tolerated Mary using her “friend” status to have William abandon me with a high fever at 3 AM to go drinking with her. I’d tolerated Mary wearing William’s shirt and lying in our bed while I had to sleep on the couch. I’d tolerated Mary getting all touchy-feely with William right in front of me. And me, as his legitimate girlfriend—if I raised even the slightest objection, I was “petty,” “making a scene,” or “immature.” Over three years, I’d accumulated more than just that money. I’d accumulated disappointment after disappointment. Each time, I told myself William was just clueless, that he loved me, that he just didn’t know how to say no. But this time, I wasn’t going to lie to myself anymore. “William, let’s break up.” When I said those words, my heart didn’t hurt as much as I expected. More than anything, I felt relief. He froze for a moment, then laughed mockingly. “Break up?” “Do whatever you want. You’ll come crawling back in a few days anyway.” I forcefully pushed past him blocking the doorway. “Don’t worry. This time I won’t be coming back.” I grabbed my suitcase and headed straight for the door. As I passed him, I caught the familiar scent of women’s perfume on him. It was Mary’s favorite brand. I didn’t look back. I knew that this time, I’d truly let go.

Dragging my suitcase through the streets still wet from rain, cold wind blew down my collar, but I didn’t feel the slightest chill. I found a hotel and checked in, then pulled out my phone and called the company’s HR director. “John, hello, this is Alice from the design department.” “About the two-year assignment to the Singapore branch you mentioned before—is that still available?” On the other end, John was clearly surprised, but quickly gave me a positive answer. This overseas assignment was the company’s recognition of my abilities—double the salary and excellent for my résumé. But I’d been hesitant before. Because I didn’t want to be in a long-distance relationship with William. I was afraid our already fragile relationship couldn’t withstand the distance. Looking back now, how ridiculous. A relationship that required me to sacrifice my career to maintain it was worthless to begin with. “I’ve made up my mind. I’ll come to the office tomorrow to handle the paperwork.” After hanging up, I let out a long breath of relief. Then, without hesitation, I blocked and deleted William from all my contacts. The next day, as I was preparing to go to the office to handle the paperwork, a call came in from an unknown number. I answered, and William’s furious voice came through. “Alice, what the hell did you transfer all the money out for?” “Do you know how embarrassing it was yesterday at Mary’s birthday when my payment failed?” “Transfer the money back right now, do you hear me?” I didn’t say anything, just listened quietly. I heard Mary’s voice in the background. “It’s fine, let her throw her tantrum. Let’s see how long she can hold out.” “I know women best. Don’t you dare go soft and run after her—that’s exactly what she wants.” The next second came the sound of the call disconnecting. This time I wasn’t angry or sad. I suddenly saw clearly that I really didn’t belong in their circle. I blocked that number too.

William probably thought I wouldn’t last three days before coming back to apologize like before. This time, he was wrong. Three days later, I was already sitting in a taxi to the airport with all my overseas assignment paperwork completed. My phone buzzed frantically in my pocket, the screen flashing with calls from different unknown numbers. I knew it was him. I didn’t answer. Until a number I knew by heart called—my mom’s. On the other end, my mother’s voice was anxious with a hint of reproach. “Alice, what’s going on with you and William? He came to the house saying you won’t see him or take his calls.” “How can you run away from home like this? Can’t you two talk things out?” I closed my eyes. I could perfectly imagine the devoted, innocent look on William’s face in front of my parents right now. He knew me too well. He knew my family was my weak spot. “Mom, put him on the phone.” My voice was completely calm. A moment later, William’s voice came through, carrying a hint of suppressed anger and barely concealed panic. “Alice, what exactly do you want?” “Over $250,000—is it really worth all this? Do you know how worried your parents are about you?” He was always so skilled at turning things around. “William, we’ve already broken up.” “Where I am and where I’m going has nothing to do with you.” “Please leave my house and stop bothering my parents.” Silence for a few seconds on the other end, then he exploded in disbelieving rage. “Do you have someone else already? Found your next target that fast?” “I never thought you were so materialistic!” Ha! This was the man I’d loved for three years. “You think this is really about the money?” I laughed bitterly. “But whatever, think what you want!” “You deposited a total of $50,000 in that account, borrowed it back at least ten times, and never paid it back in the end.” “I won’t even ask you for the money for that bag. Consider it thrown to the dogs.” “Let’s part on good terms!” “You…” William’s breathing became labored. I knew I’d thoroughly enraged him this time. He was only holding back because my parents were there. Suddenly, someone else took the phone—it was Mary. “Alice, are you complaining that William doesn’t earn as much as you?” “You’re so materialistic…” I was too tired to listen to her nonsense and cut her off: “William, if you let her harass me or my family again, we’ll see each other in court.” “The transaction records from that $500,000 joint account are all very clear. I don’t mind letting a judge decide who that money should belong to.”

After hanging up, I thought William would leave me alone for a few days. But I still underestimated his shamelessness. As soon as I got off the plane, my phone started buzzing with notification after notification. My various social media accounts were flooded with messages from strangers. “Gold digger, took her boyfriend’s $250,000 and ran. This really destroys my faith in humanity.” “Looks all innocent, but turns out she’s a con artist. So manipulative.” “I heard she made her boyfriend work to earn money while she lived the high life.” “Women like this should be drowned!” I opened the post to look. William had written a tearful essay claiming to be a devoted victim whose feelings and finances I’d exploited. Our mutual friends were all liking and commenting below. “I always knew something was off about this Alice. Didn’t expect her to be this kind of person.” “Feel so bad for William, being deceived for so long.” “You never really know someone, do you?” In just half a day, I’d been doxxed completely—all my information, including my workplace and home address. He thought this would corner me with nowhere to go, forcing me to come back and beg him. I was shaking all over, a knot of anger stuck in my chest. Over these three years, I’d done my best for William’s friends—I paid for gatherings, sent gifts for holidays. I’d never wronged any of them. But now, not a single one stood up to say a word in my defense. This was the circle I’d once desperately tried to fit into for William’s sake. My phone rang again—an unknown Singapore number. “Alice, see that?” “This is what happens when you piss me off.” “Let me tell you, as long as you don’t come back and beg me, I’ll make sure you can’t survive in Singapore either.” I took a deep breath, forcing down the urge to curse him out. “William, thank you.” He froze, clearly not expecting this reaction. “Thank me for what?” “Thank you for letting me see completely what kind of scum you are.” “And thank you for letting me finally let go completely.” Whatever lingering memories I had of our past good times, whatever thoughts I’d held onto about how he’d once treated me well— In this moment, he’d crushed them all with his own hands. “Wait for my lawyer’s letter.” I said it and hung up.

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I was fifteen when my mom died on a rainy night, chasing after my sister who’d run off to elope. Outside the emergency room, I stared daggers at my sister—standing there in a mud-stained wedding dress, soaked to the bone. She’d abandoned us for some lowlife, and now she had the nerve to show her face here. I completely lost control. I rushed at her and slapped her hard across the face. “You killed Mom! If you hadn’t been so desperate to run off with that man, Mom never would’ve chased after you! She wouldn’t be dead!” My sister’s head snapped to the side from the blow, blood trickling from the corner of her mouth. But she didn’t make a sound. She just lowered her head into the dust and knelt even straighter. From that moment on, I decided the sister who’d once cherished me had died along with Mom. “Sign here. Don’t hold up the line.” The crematorium worker slapped the cold form down on the table. I gripped the pen, my hand shaking like I had Parkinson’s. Not from grief. From rage. Charlotte,who also happened to be my older sister,was kneeling in front of the iron door of the cremation furnace at that very moment. Her once-white wedding dress now looked like a dirty rag, covered in mud and dried blood. That scumbag Jake stood behind her, the tattoo on his neck writhing as he puffed on his cigarette. He looked thoroughly annoyed, his foot tapping impatiently against the floor. “Hey, kid, hurry it up.” Jake flicked his cigarette butt on the ground and crushed it viciously under his boot. “Your sister’s got business to take care of with me.” I snapped my head up and glared at this disgusting pair. “What business? Your wedding?” I spoke through gritted teeth, each word like a stone spat from between my jaws. “Mom just died and you two are going home to sleep together?” Charlotte’s body trembled. She lifted her head—that face that was usually so gentle now deathly pale, her forehead covered in scabs from kowtowing. “Emma…” Her voice was hoarse, like her throat was full of sand. “Don’t call me that!” I screamed, cutting her off. “Murderer! You have no right to say my name!” “If you hadn’t insisted on running off with this thug today, how would Mom have chased after you in the rain? How would she have been hit by that truck?” “Charlotte, you should be the one lying in there!” Tears spilled from Charlotte’s eyes. She opened her mouth as if to explain. But Jake suddenly stepped forward, grabbed her by the hair, and shoved her head down. “Shut up.” Jake said coldly. “Enough with the talking.” Charlotte actually shut up. She obediently lowered her head, like a dog with a broken spine. Watching this made my stomach turn. Was this the same sister who’d promised to protect me for the rest of my life? She’d thrown away her dignity for a man. She’d traded Mom’s life for a man. I scrawled my name on the form: Emma. The pen tip tore through the paper. “Get out.” I threw the form at them and pointed at the door. “Take your wild man and get out of my sight.” “As of today, I have no sister, and don’t you dare tell anyone you know me.” Charlotte’s whole body stiffened. She looked at me deeply, her eyes containing too many emotions I couldn’t understand: despair, pain, and a trace of eerie relief. Jake yanked her arm and dragged her out like a dead dog. The rain kept falling. I watched their figures disappear into the curtain of rain, then turned and hugged Mom’s urn. “Mom, did you see?” “That woman is gone.” “From now on, it’s just you and me.”

After handling Mom’s funeral, I was taken in by my uncle’s family. It was called adoption, but it was really surveillance. Because of Mom’s compensation money. My aunt Lydia was a shrewd woman. When her beady eyes narrowed, you could practically hear the abacus beads clicking in her mind. “Emma, honey, you’re still young. I’ll hold onto this money for you.” “When you go to college, I’ll give it all back with interest.” I hugged my backpack and curled up on the balcony, not saying a word. I knew it was a lie. But I had no power to resist. At fifteen, I had nothing in this world except that money. And Charlotte became the biggest joke in our small town. “Did you hear? She ran off with Jake.” “Tsk tsk, you never really know someone. She looked so proper, but deep down she’s such a slut.” “Of course. To run off with a man, she even got her own mother killed.” The gossip spread like rats in the sewers, getting into everything. Every time I went out, I felt people stabbing me in the back. “Look, that’s Charlotte’s sister. Stay away from her—whole family of sluts.” I hated Charlotte. That hatred became my only reason to keep living. I studied frantically. I wanted to get out of here, as far away as possible. I wanted to prove to everyone that I wasn’t like that woman. Six months later, I saw her on my way home from school. Charlotte was wearing a faded old jacket, crouched by the garbage pile at the market picking through rotten vegetables. She was emaciated beyond recognition, her cheekbones jutting out, her eye sockets sunken deep. Jake sat on a motorcycle nearby, counting a stack of bills and occasionally kicking her. “Move faster! You still gotta wash my feet when we get home!” Charlotte stumbled from the kick and nearly fell into the garbage pile. But she didn’t make a sound, just got up and kept picking. People around pointed and whispered, contempt written on their faces. I stood at the back of the crowd, watching coldly. This is the “love” you chose? This is the person you killed Mom to be with? You deserve it. You really deserve it. Charlotte seemed to sense something and whipped her head around. The moment our eyes met, she frantically hid the rotten vegetables behind her back and instinctively tried to smooth down her disheveled hair. “Emma…” Her lips formed my name. I expressionlessly turned and walked into the convenience store nearby. “Give me a bottle of water.” “The most expensive one.” I said it deliberately loud. When I came out, I unscrewed the cap and, right in front of Charlotte, poured the remaining half bottle of water on the ground. The water splashed onto her worn-out shoes. “Dirty.” I said quietly. Charlotte’s body shook violently, tears falling in large drops. Jake saw this. He jumped off the bike and flicked his cigarette at me. “What’s with that look?” I didn’t dodge, letting the ash fall on my school uniform. “The look you give trash.” I said it and walked away without looking back. That night, I woke up laughing from a dream. When I woke, my pillow was wet.

My senior year of high school, Lydia finally showed her fangs. “Emma, honey, it’s not that I don’t want to help you.” “It’s just that compensation money… your uncle lost it in a business deal.” At the dinner table, Lydia cut a piece of cake for my cousin without even glancing at me. “Girls don’t need that much education anyway.” “There’s a widower in the next town looking for a young wife. He’s offering eighty thousand dollars.” “Go meet him. If it works out, we can even help your cousin with a down payment.” I slammed my bowl down hard on the table. “That’s MY money! That’s money Mom traded her LIFE for!” “That’s my tuition!” “Smack!” Uncle Robert slapped me across the face. “We feed you and house you, and you dare talk back?” “You don’t get a say in this! You’re going on that date tomorrow!” I clutched my face and ran out the door. The world was vast, yet I had nowhere to go. I sat on the stone steps by the river, staring at the pitch-black water, thinking about jumping in and ending it all. Suddenly, a jacket reeking of tobacco was draped over my shoulders. I whirled around in fear. It was Jake. His face was bruised, his mouth still swollen, like he’d just been in a fight. I shrank back in terror. “What do you want?!” Jake didn’t say anything. He pulled an envelope from his jacket and tossed it in my lap. The envelope was thick and heavy. “Take it.” His voice was rough, like he was speaking through hot coals. “What for? Trying to buy me off?” I threw the envelope back at him, disgust all over my face. “You two are disgusting. Done selling the sister, now you want to buy the other one?” A vein throbbed at Jake’s temple. He took a deep breath, as if suppressing his rage. “This is from your sister.” “She heard you needed tuition money, so she sold…” He stopped, his eyes flickering. “Sold what?” I laughed coldly. “Her body?” Jake actually slapped me too. This slap was even harder than Uncle Robert’s. My ears rang. “Emma, you’re an ungrateful piece of garbage!” Jake pointed at my nose and cursed. “Your sister nearly killed herself for you, and you’re acting all high and mighty?” “What did she sell? She sold her blood! Her hair! She worked in sweatshops folding boxes until her fingers rotted!” “All to scrape together your tuition money!” I froze. Looking at the envelope on the ground, an inexplicable sourness welled up in my heart. But I quickly pushed it down. “I don’t need it.” I stood up and kicked the envelope into the river. “I’d rather starve to death than spend a murderer’s money.” The envelope floated on the water’s surface for a moment, then sank. Jake stared at the river, his eyes frighteningly red. He didn’t hit me. He just looked at me with the gaze one gives a corpse. “Fine. Emma, remember what you said today.” “Even if you get on your knees and beg me later, I’ll never let your sister lay eyes on you again.” He turned and walked away. His silhouette melted into the night like a wounded lone wolf. I stood by the river, the cold wind cutting through me. I thought I’d won. I thought I’d held my ground. Until the next day, when Uncle Robert forcibly dragged me into a van outside the school gates.

“Let go of me! Help!” I struggled desperately in the van. Robert held my hands in a death grip. Driving up front was that pig-faced widower. “Heh heh, this girl’s got spirit. I like that.” The widower looked at me through the rearview mirror, his gaze lecherous. “I’m your niece!” I cried out in desperation. “So what if you’re my niece? Can a niece put food on the table?” Robert spat. “Raised you for three years—time you paid the family back.” The van headed toward a deserted country road. Despair swallowed me like a tide. Just then, a beat-up motorcycle came charging out from the side like a madman. The motorcycle slammed hard into the front of the van. The van spun out of control and crashed into a tree by the roadside. Dizzy and disoriented, I lifted my head. I saw him crawl up from the ground, face covered in blood, holding a machete. He limped over, yanked open the car door, and pulled Robert out like a chicken. “You son of a bitch!” Jake’s eyes were bloodshot as he brought the flat of the blade down on Robert’s back. The widower panicked, shoved the door open, and ran. “Emma! Run!” That voice… it wasn’t Jake’s. I turned my head and saw Charlotte, who’d fallen from the back of the motorcycle. She was covered in mud, struggling to crawl toward me. “Charlotte…” I called out instinctively. Charlotte froze for a moment, then smiled—a smile uglier than crying. “Go… Jake will hold them off… just go…” She pushed me, her strength surprisingly fierce. In the chaos, her old jacket tore. A yellowed diary fell from her chest. That was Mom’s diary! I remembered—when Mom died, this diary had gone missing. I’d always thought it was lost. I picked up the diary as if possessed. The wind flipped open the pages, revealing line after line of writing. [March 12. That bastard David (Dad) came asking for money again. He said if I don’t give it to him, he’ll sell Emma to the widower to pay his debts.] [March 15. I’m not doing well. My health is getting worse. The doctor says Emma’s heart condition might relapse. It’ll cost a fortune.] [March 20. Charlotte says she has a way. She agreed to marry Jake. They’re willing to pay two hundred thousand dollars and help settle David’s gambling debts.] [March 21. No! I can’t sell my daughter! Charlotte is only twenty years old! I have to go after her. I have to return their money. Even if I go to prison, I can’t ruin Charlotte’s life!] My brain went blank. The sounds of fighting and cursing around me seemed to disappear. I stared at those words. [Marry Jake… help settle David’s gambling debts…] So there was never any elopement. There was never any true love. She sold herself! Charlotte sold herself to save me, to pay off the gambling debts of our so-called “missing” father! Mom didn’t go to stop an elopement. Mom went with the house deed to try to buy her daughter back! I looked at Charlotte crawling on the ground. She was still pushing me. “Go! Don’t worry about me!” Her voice was hoarse and ugly because her vocal cords had been destroyed long ago. I looked at Jake, who was wrestling with Robert. This man I’d called disgusting for three years was now like a wild beast protecting its young, using his body to block the wrench Robert was swinging. “Charlotte!” I let out a heart-wrenching scream. “Why didn’t you tell me?! Why did you all hide it from me?!”

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When Jackson put the only life jacket on Phoebe, he didn’t even look at me. Thomas, the boy I’d loved and cared for over five years, was clinging to Phoebe’s leg, screaming that I was a bad woman. The seawater rose past my ankles, icy and sharp. The pregnancy test I’d been clutching was already ruined by the saltwater. Ten minutes ago, I had thought this was just an ordinary yacht accident. Then Jackson chose Phoebe. Then Thomas bit my hand, forcing me to let go of the life preserver. I realized then that this marriage had been a fraud from the very beginning. I was nothing more than a full-time nanny Jackson had hired to fill in while Phoebe was abroad recovering. And I had seven days left before I completely disappeared from this world. Scarlett POV The ambulance was already waiting when the yacht docked. Paramedics swarmed the pier, lifting a blanket-wrapped, shivering Phoebe onto a stretcher. Jackson followed behind, his brow furrowed tight. The hand that wore his wedding ring was now clamped around Phoebe’s wrist. Thomas toddled beside the stretcher on his short legs, his voice raw from screaming, “Phoebe, don’t die.” And I stood alone on the deck. The breeze had dried my wet clothes, making the fabric stiff and rough against my skin. My abdomen throbbed with a dull pain-right where Thomas had kicked me hard earlier. Before I could make my way down the spiral stairs, Jackson suddenly turned around. Through the crowd and the flashing emergency lights, his gaze landed on me. That look was cold, impatient. “Scarlett, stop dawdling.” He called my name, his voice the same cold tone he used for incompetent subordinates. “Phoebe’s in shock. Go home and make her hot chocolate, then bring it to the hospital.” I wanted to say I’d fallen into the water too. I wanted to say my stomach hurt. I wanted to say the seawater-ruined paper had read “six weeks pregnant.” The words reached my lips, but all I tasted was blood. I swallowed it down. “Okay.” I heard my own calm voice. Jackson seemed satisfied with my compliance and turned to climb into the ambulance. The door slammed shut with a bang, cutting off all lines of sight. The crowd at the pier gradually dispersed. I took a cab back to the Beverly Hills mansion alone. When I walked through the door, the housekeeper Anna was pouring hot ginger tea into a thermos. Seeing me come in, disheveled and dripping, she froze, her eyes turning evasive. “Ma’am… Mr. Sterling called. He said to send hot drinks to Miss Phoebe. He didn’t mention you were…” She didn’t finish, but I understood. In this house, Jackson’s orders were the only law. I ignored her awkwardness and went straight upstairs. Passing by the nursery, toys were still scattered all over the floor. Thomas’s favorite superhero figure lay alone on the carpet, one arm broken off. That was a limited edition I’d stood in line all night to buy for him six months ago. This morning before we left, Thomas had thrown a massive tantrum because I’d accidentally knocked over that figure. He’d pointed at my nose and cursed: “I knew you weren’t my real mom! If it was Auntie Phoebe, she would never break my stuff!” At the time, I’d dismissed it as childish nonsense. Now it seemed children’s instincts were often the most accurate. He’d known all along who the outsider in this family really was. I returned to the master bedroom and locked the door. In the bathroom mirror, a pale face stared back at me. There was a bruise on my temple from hitting the railing when I fell into the water. I touched it. No sensation. I stripped off the wet clothes reeking of ocean and balled them up, throwing them directly into the trash. Along with the pulpy mess in my pocket that used to be paper. Hot water cascaded over my body, bringing sharp little pinpricks of pain. I looked down at my flat abdomen. A tiny life had once been growing there. Just a few hours ago, I’d been so happy, planning to tell Jackson the good news. Now, it was all gone. That kick had been vicious. The ice-cold seawater mingled with the blood trickling down my thighs, winding across the white tiles before spiraling into the dark drain. I didn’t cry. I just felt tired. After showering, my phone screen was lit up. A text from Jackson. Just one brief line: Did you send the soup? Phoebe’s still shaking. Not one word asking if I was hurt. Not one word asking how hard that kick had been. I stared at the screen for a long time until my eyes started to ache. Then I replied: “On its way.” After sending that message, I pulled open the bottom drawer of my nightstand. Inside was a divorce agreement I’d drafted long ago, along with a one-way ticket to Switzerland. Originally I’d planned to burn these. Since I was pregnant, I’d wanted to give this marriage one more chance. But now, that wasn’t necessary. I pulled out the ticket, my fingertips tracing the date printed on it. Departure in seven days. That was Jackson’s birthday, and also the final deadline I’d set for myself. I picked up a pen and drew a heavy circle on the calendar. The countdown had begun.

Scarlett POV The next morning, I was woken by noise from downstairs. Jackson was back. And he’d brought Phoebe and Thomas with him. I stood at the top of the stairs, watching the harmonious scene in the living room. Phoebe wore Jackson’s shirt, the oversized hem covering her thighs, making her look small and delicate. She sat on the sofa holding a cup of hot milk. Thomas nestled in her arms, mouth open wide waiting for her to feed him. Jackson sat beside them cutting fruit, his knife skills clumsy, the peel breaking several times. But he was patient. You should know, in the past when I wanted fruit, he’d only frown and say: “If you want it, cut it yourself. I’m not your servant.” “Scarlett’s awake?” Phoebe noticed me first. She tried to stand, but Jackson pressed her shoulder down. “Sit still. The doctor said you’re weak, don’t move around.” Jackson’s voice was heavy. When he turned to look at me, it instantly went cold. “Since you’re up, come down and cook. Anna took the day off, and Phoebe wants your seafood chowder.” My fingers clenched the banister, knuckles bleaching white. Seafood chowder. The whole city knew Phoebe was allergic to seafood. Was this a test? A deliberate humiliation? Or had he simply forgotten, in the space between her and me, which one of us carried the allergy? “She’s allergic to seafood,” I said flatly. Jackson’s hand cutting fruit paused. The blade sliced his thumb. A bead of blood welled up. Phoebe cried out, immediately grabbing his hand and putting it in her mouth. Jackson didn’t push her away. Instead, he looked at her with tender eyes. “Phoebe’s still so thoughtful.” Then he looked up at me, his gaze carrying reproach. “If you got it wrong, just admit it. Don’t make excuses. I never saw your memory being this bad before.” Before? How had I lived before? Every meal had to accommodate everyone’s tastes. Jackson didn’t eat garlic, Thomas didn’t eat carrots or bell peppers. If even a trace of something they disliked appeared in a dish, the entire table of food would be dumped straight into the trash. I remembered everyone’s preferences, but no one remembered I didn’t eat cilantro. “Maybe I did get it wrong.” I didn’t argue, just turned and walked into the kitchen. Since he wanted his sweetheart to have seafood soup, I’d make it. Processing the lobster, chopping onions, simmering the broth. Every step I executed methodically. The kitchen’s glass door wasn’t fully closed. Fragments of conversation from the living room drifted in. “Jackson, is Scarlett angry?” That was Phoebe’s voice, tinged with grievance. “Maybe I should move out. I’m not as clingy as Thomas, it’s fine.” “This is my house. You can stay as long as you want.” Jackson’s voice was iron. “Don’t worry about her. With that temper, she’ll be fine in a couple of days.” “But.-” “No buts. Thomas needs you too. Look at him this morning. When has he ever asked for Scarlett?” Thomas’s high voice piped up. “I don’t want that bad lady! I want Phoebe to be my mommy!” Crash. I turned the faucet to full blast. Water rushed over the cold porcelain bowl, drowning out those piercing voices. I looked down at the sink. A expressionless face reflected back at me. In the past, hearing words like these would hurt. I’d hide under the covers and cry all night. I’d reflect on whether I wasn’t doing enough, whether I wasn’t gentle enough, considerate enough. But now, my heart felt nothing. Like watching a terrible reality show. Just absurd. Half an hour later, I carried the steaming pot of soup out of the kitchen. Jackson was feeding Phoebe freshly cut apple pieces. Seeing me emerge, he didn’t even lift an eyelid. “Leave it there. Let it cool before serving.” I set the soup on the dining table without a word, then turned to go upstairs. “Stop.” Jackson called out. He set down the apple, pulled out a tissue to wipe his hands, his tone casual: “Clear out your studio. Phoebe needs it for yoga.” My footsteps stopped. That studio was my only private space in this house. It held my unfinished artwork, and the easel my mother had left me. That was my bottom line. “There’s a gym downstairs,” I said. “The gym doesn’t have good lighting.” Jackson frowned. “I told you to clear it out, so clear it out. Why all the back talk? Those worthless paintings don’t sell for much anyway. They’re just taking up space.” Worthless paintings. Those were my heart and soul. Proof that I’d once dreamed of becoming an artist. In this billionaire’s eyes, they were just garbage taking up room. “Understood.” I heard myself say. No argument, no hysterics. Jackson seemed somewhat surprised by my compliance, but he didn’t give it much thought, just waved his hand dismissing me. I returned to my room and pulled out a large black trash bag. I walked into the studio. The painting I’d worked on for three months, “Deep Sea,” stood quietly on the easel. In the image, a drowning woman reached upward, trying to grasp that beam of light filtering down. I picked up the utility knife. The sharp blade sliced through canvas, making a harsh tearing sound. Once, twice, three times. The complete image shattered into pieces. I stuffed the fragments into the trash bag, along with the paints, brushes, and the easel my mother had left behind. It was all cleared out in under ten minutes. The once-full room turned hollow and bare. Only the faint, sharp smell of turpentine still hung in the air. Nothing of Scarlett remained here now. And nothing of her remained in this house.

Scarlett POV I was jolted awake by urgent pounding on my door. Opening it, Thomas stood there holding his broken superhero toy, his face fierce. “Bad woman, who told you to touch my Legos!” He hurled the figure viciously at my legs. The hard plastic edges struck my kneecap, pain drilling deep. I looked down at the stepson at my feet. Five years old, looking exactly like Jackson-like they’d been cut from the same mold. The eyebrows, the nose, even that domineering expression were identical. I still remembered when he was first brought home, all soft and cuddly. Jackson found him too noisy and refused to hold him. It was me who’d paced the room night after night with him in my arms, humming lullabies until he fell asleep. His first word of “mama,” his first steps, his first time using a spoon. Every moment, I’d been there with him. But from the day Phoebe returned to the country, everything changed. It only took one piece of candy from Phoebe to earn a sweet “Thank you!” Yet the full meals I’d spent hours preparing would only ever get a “This is disgusting.” “I didn’t touch your Legos.” I bent down, picked up the broken figure, and held it out to him. “You broke this yourself yesterday.” “You’re lying!” Thomas slapped my hand away. “Auntie Phoebe said you broke it ’cause you were jealous her gift was better! You’re a wicked witch!” Wicked witch. Since when did a five-year-old talk like that? I didn’t need to guess who’d put those words in his mouth. I looked at his flushed little face and suddenly felt exhausted. Too tired even to explain. “Think whatever you want.” I stepped around him, heading downstairs to get water. Thomas clearly hadn’t expected this reaction from me. In the past, whenever he threw a tantrum, I’d scramble to appease him, agreeing to all his unreasonable demands. Being ignored made him instantly lose control. He rushed at me and bit down hard on my calf. His sharp baby teeth pierced through the fabric and into flesh. I gasped in pain and instinctively pushed him. It wasn’t even that hard. But Thomas threw himself backward, landing on his bottom, then let out an ear-splitting wail. “Wahhh-Daddy! The bad woman hit me!” The laughter downstairs cut off abruptly. Urgent footsteps approached. Jackson charged up the stairs, saw his son sitting on the floor crying, and me standing there watching coldly. His expression darkened instantly. “Scarlett, what are you doing?” He strode over and shoved me aside, scooping Thomas into his arms. The force was considerable. I stumbled backward several steps, my lower back slamming into the stair railing. The pain made it hard to straighten up. “She pushed me! She tried to push me down the stairs!” Thomas burrowed into Jackson’s embrace, pointing at me accusingly, crying his heart out. “I didn’t.” I steadied myself against the railing and looked at this father and son. “You didn’t?” Jackson laughed coldly, his gaze landing on me full of disgust. “Thomas is only five. Would he lie? Scarlett, I never realized how vicious you were-you can’t even tolerate a child?” Vicious. Can’t tolerate. So that’s what I was in his mind. Phoebe rushed upstairs then, looking anxious as she checked on Thomas. “Did you get hurt? Let me see.” She wiped Thomas’s tears while turning to look at me, her eyes full of reproach: “Scarlett, kids don’t know better. You could just talk to him nicely. How could you get physical? What if he’d gotten seriously hurt…” “Enough.” Jackson cut her off, standing up with Thomas in his arms. He looked down at me from his height, like looking at a criminal. “Apologize to Thomas.” I froze. “I didn’t do anything wrong. Why should I apologize?” “Do I need to say it twice?” Jackson’s voice suppressed fury. “Apologize.” I looked into those cold eyes. Five years of marriage, and in his eyes it apparently couldn’t compare to one word from Phoebe’s mouth, one lie from Thomas. I suddenly smiled. A light laugh. “Fine.” I nodded, looking at Thomas’s face, twisted slightly with smugness. “I’m sorry.” As those words left my mouth, I felt something inside me break completely. It was the last thread connecting me to this family. Thomas huffed and turned his head away, ignoring me. Jackson’s expression eased slightly, though it remained unpleasant. “Stay out of Thomas’s sight for the next few days. Save him the annoyance.” With that, he carried his son downstairs with Phoebe. A family of three. What a harmonious picture their backs made. I stood there, watching them disappear around the staircase. The wound on my knee was still bleeding, the bite mark on my calf already bruising purple. But I felt no pain at all. I returned to my room and pulled the suitcase out from under the bed. I opened the closet. Most of the clothes inside were black, white, and gray-the style Jackson preferred. He said bright colors made me look frivolous, that only muted tones suited the wife of a billionaire. I didn’t take any of them. I only took a few pieces I’d bought before marriage, and that photo album hidden deepest in the closet. I opened the album. The first photo was our wedding picture. In it, Jackson had his face set, brow slightly furrowed, looking quite unwilling. And I smiled like an idiot, my eyes full of light. That was me five years ago. Back then I believed that if I just tried hard enough, loved him enough, this stone would eventually warm up. Only now did I understand. A stone can’t be warmed. Especially when that stone’s heart already belonged to someone else. I picked up scissors. Following the photo’s center line, snip. That woman smiling with happiness and that cold man were completely separated. I threw Jackson’s half of the photo into the trash. Only keeping the version of myself whose eyes held light. Though that light had now gone out. But I would relight it. Somewhere without Jackson.

Scarlett POV It was late at night by the time I finished packing. The suitcase was light, barely half full. It turned out that after five years of living here, I had so little I could take with me. I pushed the suitcase to the back of the walk-in closet and covered it with some old coats. Just as I straightened up, the bedroom door opened. Jackson walked in. He’d just showered, carrying the scent of body wash mixed with a faint tobacco smell. That was the brand of cigarettes Phoebe had given him. He didn’t even glance at me, walking straight to the bed and sitting down, drying his hair while saying: “There’s a charity gala tomorrow night. You’re coming with me.” In the past, hearing such a request would have made me too excited to sleep. Because it meant he acknowledged my status. But now, I only felt the irony. “Isn’t Phoebe back?” I walked to the vanity and picked up face cream, applying it. “She’d be more suitable for that kind of occasion than me.” Jackson’s hand stopped mid-motion. He looked at me through the mirror, his brow furrowing again. “Scarlett, are you ever going to stop?” He impatiently threw the towel on the bed, his tone dismissive: “Phoebe’s body hasn’t recovered. She can’t handle the noise of that kind of event. You’re my wife. This is your responsibility.” Responsibility. So that’s why I existed. Human shield, tool, nanny. Whatever it was, definitely not beloved. “I’m not going.” I capped the face cream and turned to look at him. “I don’t feel well.” Jackson apparently hadn’t expected me to refuse. This was probably the first time since marrying him that I’d said “no.” He stood up, strode over to me, and grabbed my chin. The grip was hard, painfully tight. “Scarlett, don’t think I don’t know what game you’re playing.” His gaze was sharp as a knife, as if trying to see through to my bones. “Playing hard to get doesn’t work on me. You weren’t this dramatic before. What, now that Phoebe’s back, feeling insecure?” Insecure? I couldn’t help but laugh. If this were seven days ago, maybe I would have been. But now, facing a marriage on its deathbed, where was there room for insecurity? “Jackson.” I looked directly into his eyes, my tone so calm it surprised even me. “I genuinely don’t feel well. And also, I’m tired.” Jackson stared at me for several seconds. As if trying to find traces of lies on my face. But he failed. My eyes held no emotion-no jealousy, no anger, just dead-water calm. This calm made him feel strange, even inexplicably irritated. He released his grip and snorted coldly. “Suit yourself.” With that, he turned to leave. Reaching the door, he stopped. “Since you’re not going, don’t regret it later. I’m taking Phoebe tomorrow. When the media writes whatever they want, don’t come crying to me.” This was a threat. He knew I cared about status, about maintaining the dignity of this marriage. Unfortunately, he’d miscalculated this time. “I won’t.” I looked at his back, saying softly, “As long as you’re happy.” Jackson’s figure stiffened. But he didn’t turn around, just slammed the door hard. BANG. The impact made the wall clock shudder. I looked at the closed door and let out a long breath. Actually, I hadn’t lied. I really didn’t feel well. The dragging pain in my abdomen hadn’t disappeared-it was getting stronger. I rummaged through a drawer for painkillers and dry-swallowed two pills. The bitter taste of the pills spread across my tongue. I lay in bed and turned off the light. In the darkness, my phone screen suddenly lit up. A bank transfer notification. Five million dollars. Followed by a message from Phoebe: Scarlett, thank you for clearing out the studio for me. This money is compensation for your paintings. Jackson asked me to transfer it to you-he said he couldn’t let you work for nothing. I looked at that long string of numbers. In Jackson’s eyes, my dreams and dignity were worth exactly this much. Or rather, it was hush money-a pittance to let Phoebe occupy my space guilt-free. I didn’t reply, didn’t return the money. I accepted it. Why not? This was what I deserved. Consider it my nanny wages for five years, emotional damage compensation. Besides, medical bills would be expensive later. I placed my phone face-down on the nightstand and closed my eyes. Six more days. Just endure a little longer. Just six more days, and I’d be completely free. As I drifted off to sleep, a commotion suddenly erupted downstairs. The sound of something breaking, accompanied by Phoebe’s scream. I rolled over and pulled the blanket over my head. Even if the house collapsed, it had nothing to do with me. That night, I had a dream. I dreamed I’d become a bird. Trapped in a gilded cage, I’d plucked out all my feathers trying to please my master. Finally, the master opened the cage. Not to set me free. But to put a more beautiful peacock inside. The featherless bird was casually tossed into the trash. Dying. When I woke, my pillow was soaked. Not with tears. With cold sweat.

Scarlett POV I don’t remember how I left the mansion. I only remember the sunlight outside was blinding, falling on my skin with no warmth at all. I took a cab to the downtown hospital. The obstetrics corridor was always filled with two completely different sounds. On one side, the robust cries of newborns and families unable to contain their joy; on the other, heart-wrenching sobs and deathly silence. I sat in the cold chair in the examination room, clutching my registration slip. “Scarlett?” The doctor was an older woman who pushed up her glasses, her gaze landing on my test results as her brow furrowed tight. “Your condition is dangerous. Incomplete miscarriage with retained tissue in the uterus, and signs of infection. We need to schedule surgery immediately to clear it out.” Surgery. I knew what that meant. Cold instruments probing into my body, scraping out that unformed blood clot bit by bit, along with all my hopes for the past. “I’m not having surgery.” I heard my own calm voice. “Just prescribe me strong painkillers and antibiotics.” The doctor’s head snapped up, staring at me like I was insane. “Do you have a death wish? The infection could spread and cause sepsis. You could go into shock at any time. And your current clotting function…” She paused, pointing at the abnormally low value on the lab report. “Have you been getting nosebleeds frequently, or unexplained bruising?” I instinctively tugged at my sleeve, covering the purple bruise on my wrist. Jackson had left that yesterday. “I know what I’m doing.” I stood up, and without waiting for the doctor to say more, walked out of the examination room. Only I knew this body was already broken. Beyond repair. Even if I fixed this, something else would be waiting. Rather than lying on an operating table kept alive by cold tubes, I’d rather walk through these final days with dignity. When I picked up my prescription, the TV mounted in the lobby was broadcasting entertainment news. “Billionaire Jackson Sterling attended a charity gala with a mysterious female companion, spending millions on a pink diamond necklace…” On screen, Jackson wore an impeccably tailored bespoke suit, his posture straight. Phoebe held his arm, wearing that dazzling pink diamond necklace around her neck, her smile radiantly happy. Reporters’ microphones were practically shoved in their faces. “Mr. Sterling, is this lady your newly wedded wife?” Jackson didn’t deny it. He just looked down at Phoebe, his gaze so tender it could melt. “She’s the most important person in my life.” Many people in the lobby were watching-some envious, some skeptical. I stood at the back of the crowd, holding a bag of painkillers, the bitter taste of bile rising in my mouth. The most important person. Then what was I? Five years of marriage. I’d been with him from nobody to corporate power player. To help him secure investments, I’d drunk myself to a bleeding ulcer and hospitalization. To care for his sick mother, I’d kept vigil at her bedside for three solid months, not even seeing my own mother one last time. In the end, I was just an invisible person who didn’t even deserve to have her name mentioned. I lowered my head, popped a pill in my mouth, and dry-swallowed it without water. The rough tablet scraped down my throat, bringing a burning pain. But the pain was good. At least it reminded me I was still alive.

Scarlett POV When I returned to the mansion, night had fallen completely. The living room blazed with light. Thomas lay on the carpet drawing, Phoebe sat beside him sharpening pencils, and Jackson reviewed documents.If you didn’t look at the large cardboard boxes piled in the corner, this would indeed seem like a warm family scene. Those were my things. My books, my tea set, even the coats I wore regularly. All carelessly stuffed into boxes, like a pile of garbage waiting to be disposed of. “What’s this about?” I changed my shoes and walked to the boxes. The housekeeper Anna was sealing them with packing tape. Seeing me return, her hand jerked, the tape making a harsh ripping sound. “Ma’am… Miss Phoebe said there was too much clutter in the house, it accumulates dust and it’s bad for Thomas’s respiratory system, so…” “I had Anna pack them up.” Phoebe set down her pencil and stood up, looking at me with innocent eyes. “Scarlett, don’t take it the wrong way. I noticed you hardly use these things anyway, they’re just taking up space. Plus, the doctor said Thomas has some allergic rhinitis, so the house needs to be kept clean.” Allergic rhinitis. I looked at one of the unsealed boxes. Inside was a copy of “The Little Prince,” its corners worn from being read so many times. That was the storybook I’d read to Thomas every night when he was three. Now it had become an allergen. “Throw it out.” Jackson didn’t even look up, turning a page of his document. “It’s useless anyway.” I stared at that man’s profile. Cold, matter-of-fact. As if what he was throwing away wasn’t my belongings, but me as a person. “Okay.” I bent down and picked up the box. It was heavy. Anna tried to help, but I dodged her. “I’ll do it myself.” I carried the box toward the door. Passing by Thomas, he suddenly looked up, holding up his drawing paper, his face full of pride as he shouted to Jackson: “Daddy, look! I drew our family!” Jackson set down his documents and took the paper, a smile tugging at his lips. “Not bad.” I instinctively glanced at it. There were three people in the drawing. A tall daddy, a beautiful mommy, and little Thomas in the middle holding their hands. That “mommy” wore a pink dress with a sparkling necklace. That was Phoebe’s outfit today. I wasn’t in the picture. The box in my arms suddenly felt like it weighed a thousand pounds, pressing until I couldn’t breathe. “Thomas is so talented.” Phoebe patted Thomas’s head and shot me a challenging look. “How about I take you to art classes?” “Yes! I love Phoebe the most!” Thomas wrapped his arms around her neck and planted a kiss on her cheek. I looked away and quickened my pace. I walked out the front door, all the way to the trash station in the residential area. I threw the box in heavily. Thud. Dust rose up. I stood in front of the dumpster, looking at “The Little Prince” with half its cover showing. Suddenly I felt ridiculous. Scarlett, look. The memories you treasured like precious gems were, in others’ eyes, just garbage that could be discarded at any moment. I pulled a lighter from my pocket. Click. The blue flame danced in the night wind. I lit one corner of the box. The fire spread quickly. The dry paper curled and blackened, turning to ash. The firelight reflected in my eyes, somewhat scorching. I don’t know when Jackson appeared behind me. “What are you doing?” His voice was heavy with surprise. He probably never expected me to be the one setting fire to my own things. After all, in the past, even a sticky note-as long as it was from him-I would carefully preserve. “Just as you said.” I watched the dancing flames without turning around. “Taking out the trash.” Jackson was silent for several seconds. “You’ve been acting strange, Scarlett.” He stepped closer, his eyes scanning me. “If this is some play for attention, you’re overdoing it.” A play? I turned to look at the man I had loved for seven years. In the firelight, his face was still unbearably handsome. But my heart, like the ashes between us, had gone cold. “Jackson.” I said his name softly. “If I died, would you be sad?” Jackson froze. Then he frowned, his face showing obvious disgust. “Don’t say such morbid things.” He tapped his cigarette, letting the ash fall. “Someone with your resilience doesn’t die easily.” I laughed. Right. I was like a weed. Trampled into mud, scorched by fire, yet as long as one root remained, I could cling on, miserably. But Jackson. This time, I would tear it out from the root. “That’s good then.” I said softly. “That’s good.” I’m done loving you, Jackson. You killed me with your own hands.

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The first thing Liam did when he returned was pay five million dollars to make my life a living hell. At an exclusive gala, he pointed at me and declared that if I’d publicly kneel and polish his fiancée’s shoes, he’d forgive my past betrayal. Without a word, I knelt and used my sleeve to wipe the wine stains from her heels until they gleamed. The crowd laughed, mocking me for trading my dignity for money. Liam’s face twisted with rage. He kicked over a champagne tower beside us, sending shattered glass spraying across my skin. He gripped my chin. “Isabella, you’re utterly pathetic. Doesn’t any of this hurt?” I looked at his furious face and smiled.”Liam, for the right price, a little pain means nothing.” He didn’t know. A tumor in my brain was pressing on my central nervous system. Three months ago, I had completely lost the ability to feel pain. It wasn’t that I wasn’t hurting. I was dying. Isabella POV They dragged me out of the underground fight club like a dead dog. The few crumpled bills in my hand were soaked through with blood. That punch had landed square on my eye socket. It blurred half my vision, but I didn’t make a sound. The man who beat me cursed me, saying I was like a senseless punching bag, giving him no satisfaction at all. I found it pretty boring too. The moment I tucked the money into my pocket, two bodyguards in black suits seized my arms. They eyed my cheap tank top and the mud-and-blood-stained pants with disgust before shoving me into a luxury car-a model I wouldn’t have recognized. The car pulled up at the entrance of the city’s most opulent hotel. I was dragged, practically hauled, into the ballroom. The heating was on full blast, making my swollen eye throb even more. I struggled to keep my eyes open, trying to make out the man sitting in the center. Liam. Three years had passed. He’d become an even bigger deal. In a tailored suit, he swirled a glass of red wine, one arm draped around a woman in white. I recognized the woman. It’s Maya. Three years ago, when Liam nearly died in that car accident, she was supposedly the one who pulled him back from the brink. Now, she was the envied fiancée of a billionaire, celebrated in this elite social circle. And I? I was the public disgrace, universally despised, who had supposedly run off with Liam’s life savings and sold company secrets to his rival. The entire room fell silent. All eyes flickered between Liam and me, anticipating the show. Liam tapped his wine glass on the table. The sound wasn’t loud, but in the quiet hall, it resonated clearly. “Isabella.” He spoke my name as if calling a dog. I tried to force a smile, but my swollen face probably made it look more like a grimace. “Liam, long time no see.” Liam ignored my greeting. He pulled a checkbook from his jacket, scribbled a string of numbers, then tore out the check and tossed it lightly onto the floor. The thin slip of paper fluttered down, landing beside his gleaming leather shoes. “Five million.” He leaned back on the sofa, his eyes cold. “Drop the worthless pretense of dignity. Polish Maya’s shoes clean, and that money is yours.” A collective gasp rippled through the room. Five million. The price for the former ‘It Girl’ of the social scene to kneel. It was utterly humiliating. Maya shifted in his embrace, her voice sweet and cooing. “Liam, please, don’t. Isabella is, after all…” “What is she?” Liam cut her off, his eyes fixed on me, a hatred I couldn’t fathom churning within them. “She’d do anything for money, wouldn’t she, Isabella? Even eat dirt if I told her to?” I stared at the check. Five million. Enough to buy my mother the best burial plot, enough to pay off a mountain of predatory loans, enough for a stockpile of expensive targeted drugs, so I could face my death with a semblance of peace. What was I still hesitating for? I walked over, bent my knees, and knelt heavily on the hard marble floor. Nothing. No pain at all. I heard the dull thud of my knees hitting the floor, but I felt only the mechanical movement. I extended my sleeve-it was from a fifteen-dollar T-shirt I’d bought at a street stall, the rough fabric perfect for cleaning shoes. I gently lifted Maya’s foot, meticulously polishing her silver high heels, which had only a faint speck of dust. Maya recoiled, startled, but I held her ankle firm. A terrifying silence hung in the ballroom, broken only by the soft rasp of fabric against leather. After cleaning her left foot, I looked up at Liam. “Liam, do I need to clean the right one too? Can I get extra?” Liam’s face visibly contorted. He had expected to see me enraged, humiliated, hysterical over my ruined dignity. But I wasn’t. I was a soulless money-making machine. “Isabella!” He suddenly erupted, kicking over the nearby champagne tower. A deafening crash. Dozens of champagne flutes shattered, sending glass shards flying. Many fragments embedded themselves in my neck and back. Golden champagne mixed with my blood, seeping down my collar. I glanced down. A rather large piece of glass was stuck in my arm, and blood flowed freely. But it only looked alarming. I didn’t move, didn’t even flinch. Liam rushed over, grabbing my chin with a force that felt like it could crush my bones. He glared at me, his eyes bloodshot. “Are you a walking corpse? Why didn’t you dodge? Doesn’t it hurt?” I was forced to tilt my head back, looking at his frantic expression. I remembered how, in the past, if I got a paper cut, I’d hold up my finger and cry to him for ages. He’d scold me for being delicate while gently blowing on the wound. Now, covered in blood, he was demanding to know why I wasn’t screaming in pain. I smiled, and blood trickled down my forehead into my mouth, coppery and sweet. “Liam, is this five million in cash or a bank transfer?” I didn’t answer his question. I only cared about the money. Liam’s hand abruptly released me, as if he had touched something vile. He straightened up, looking down at me, his eyes filled with utter disgust. “Isabella, you sicken me.” “I find myself quite disgusting too.” I slowly got up from the floor, picking up the check and carefully blowing off the champagne stains. “Thank you for the generous payment, Liam.”

Isabella POV Liam didn’t let me leave. He had his men shove me into a car and sped back to his sprawling hillside villa. This villa was the one we’d chosen together back when we were a couple. I’d said I loved stargazing, so he bought it here. Now, the house was unchanged, but the life we’d built was shattered, and this place had become my gilded cage. The moment we entered, he dragged me straight into the bathroom. I didn’t resist. I let him pull me along. Resistance was futile anyway. In my current physical condition, I couldn’t even fight off a child. He turned the shower on full blast, setting it to cold, and aimed it directly at me. It was late autumn, and the water was bone-chilling. My body instinctively began to tremble, my teeth chattering-a physiological reaction I couldn’t control. Yet, I still couldn’t feel that “bone-chilling cold.” I only knew my body temperature was dropping. Liam stood by, watching me huddle in the corner like a drowned rat, his eyes dark and menacing. “Isabella, when you ran off with my life savings, did you ever imagine this day?” I had. I had imagined he’d hate me, that he’d seek revenge. But I hadn’t imagined this revenge would feel so… painless. I wiped the water from my face, saying nothing. My silence enraged Liam. He walked over and violently ripped open the collar of my shirt. The glass shards that had been embedded in my clothes at the banquet now tumbled out with his movement; some were still stuck in my flesh. His yank tore the wounds open further, and blood mixed with the cold water flowed onto the floor. Crimson streaks snaked across the white tiles, a horrifying sight. Liam’s movements froze. He stared at a deep gash on my shoulder, a piece of glass still lodged within it. “Doesn’t it hurt?” He asked again, his voice carrying a subtle tremor. I followed his gaze. Oh, it was quite deep, the flesh was exposed. I raised my hand and, right in front of him, pulled out the glass shard. Blood gushed out even more. Liam’s pupils constricted sharply. “I’m used to it.” I tossed the bloody fragment into the drain, my voice as calm as if commenting on the rain. “When you’re desperate in places like that, you learn to handle things yourself.” Liam’s face instantly went ashen. I knew what he was thinking. He believed I had endured all sorts of hardships and suffering for money, that my body had grown numb. It was true. For three years, to pay off debts, I’d been a human punching bag, done hard labor on construction sites, and even participated in clinical trials. But the loss of my pain wasn’t something I’d trained myself into. It was a disease. “Isabella.” Liam gritted his teeth, each word forced out. “You did this to yourself, turned into this… ghost, all for money?” “Money is good, Liam,” I leaned against the cold tiled wall, looking at him. “Without it, Without it, you don’t get a life.” If I’d had money back then, I wouldn’t have sold the engagement ring you gave me. I wouldn’t have sent you to that safe house. I wouldn’t have had to make deals with desperate men. If I’d had money, I wouldn’t have gotten this disease and been unable to afford treatment, letting the tumors grow in my brain until now. Liam suddenly laughed, a harsh, ugly sound. “Fine, you want money, right?” He pulled out his phone and dialed a number. “Tell Maya to move in.” He hung up, then looked at me, his eyes filled with malicious retaliation. “From today on, you’ll serve Maya here. The five million will be yours when I’m satisfied.” I paused, surprised. Maya? The woman who had usurped my act of saving his life? Liam’s current “cherished love”? Well, it was fine. I didn’t have many days left anyway. Seeing him “happy” before I died might bring some closure. “Alright,” I agreed readily. “As long as the money’s there, serving anyone is serving someone.” Liam looked at me, and the last spark in his eyes died completely. He turned and slammed the door shut. Only I remained in the bathroom, surrounded by blood and water. I looked down at the bleeding wound on my shoulder, pressing it with my hand. It felt soft, like pressing someone else’s flesh. It truly didn’t hurt at all. I sighed, pulling a bottle of pills with a water-damaged label from my pocket. I poured a few into my hand and swallowed them, not caring if the water was clean or not. These pills were expensive, two hundred each. If that five million had come through, I’d definitely buy a few boxes to stock up.

Isabella POV Maya’s arrival created quite a stir. A dozen servants lined up in two rows, and Liam personally went to greet her, carefully helping her out of the car as if she were a fragile porcelain doll. I stood in the corner, wearing an oversized uniform, holding a broom. Maya spotted me the moment she stepped out of the car. Her smile faltered, then morphed into a look of surprise and feigned concern. “Isabella? Why are you dressed like that?” She walked over, reaching out to take my hand. “How can they make you do such menial labor? Liam, really…” I took a step back, avoiding her touch. “Ms. Maya, I’m an employee here now. I’ll get docked pay if I break the rules.” Maya’s hand hung awkwardly in the air, a flicker of malice in her eyes, quickly masked. She turned and hugged Liam’s arm, whining, “Liam, Isabella never had to do hard work before. How can you be so cruel?” Liam gave me a cold glance. “She brought this upon herself, insisting on earning this money.” Maya sighed, feigning helplessness. “Well, alright. I just brought an antique art piece Liam gave me before, and I haven’t found a place for it yet. Isabella, could you help me move it to the study upstairs?” She pointed to a half-person-high, large box beside her. I recognized the artwork. It was a crystal sculpture Liam had bought for thirty million dollars at an auction as a birthday gift for me. Back then, I’d said it was fragile and I didn’t want to accept it. He’d said, “If it breaks, it breaks. As long as you’re happy, even hearing it shatter is fine.” Now, it belonged to Maya. “Okay.” I put down the broom and walked over to carry the box. The box was heavy. In the past, I wouldn’t have thought twice about this weight. But now, the tumor in my brain was pressing on my optic nerve, and my vision was narrowing, like looking through a tunnel. Only a small central area remained clear; the edges were consumed by black spots. And my body was extremely weak from long-term medication and chemotherapy. I gritted my teeth, lifted the box, and slowly made my way up the stairs. Halfway up, my vision suddenly went dark. It was like someone had abruptly switched off the lights; the entire world plunged into darkness. My foot missed a step. In that moment of losing balance, I instinctively tried to protect the sculpture. Not because it was a gift from Liam, but because it was so expensive; even selling myself wouldn’t cover the cost. Both I and the box tumbled down the stairs. A series of sharp, shattering sounds. Thirty million, gone in a single crash. I lay on the floor, taking a while to recover. My vision was still mostly black, but I felt something piercing into my palm. A viscous liquid seeped out. “My sculpture!” Maya shrieked, running over. Seeing the shattered pieces everywhere, her tears flowed on command. “Liam! This was our token of love! Was she trying to do this on purpose?!” Liam strode over. He first helped Maya up, checking her from head to toe. “Are you hurt?” “I’m fine, but the sculpture…” Maya cried pitifully. Liam then turned to look at me. I was sitting on the floor, my vision slowly returning a little. I saw my palm was covered in crystal fragments, blood flowing freely over my hand. “Isabella!” Liam roared, “Did you do that on purpose?” I looked down at my palm, not meeting his gaze. “My hand slipped.” I said blandly. “Slipped?” Liam sneered. “Your hands, which used to play the piano, can’t even hold a simple object now? I think you just can’t stand to see Maya happy!” “These hands, once capable of playing the piano, are useless now.” I didn’t want to explain that my vision was blurry, nor that I’d felt a wave of dizziness. I extended my other hand and, right in front of them, pulled out the largest shard embedded in my palm. Blood splattered onto the floor. Liam’s eye twitched. I didn’t utter a sound, not even a change in expression. It was like pulling out a splinter. Tossing the fragment onto the floor, I pushed myself up, using my hands to brace against the marble. My legs felt a bit weak, but I stood straight. “Broken property needs to be compensated, right?” I looked at Liam’s blurred face. “Deduct it from the five million. If it’s not enough, I can polish Ms. Maya’s shoes a few more times.” Maya, hiding in Liam’s arms, looked at me as if I were insane. Liam stared intently at my still-dripping hand, his chest rising and falling violently. “Get out.” He pointed to the door. “Go get that wrapped up. Don’t bleed everywhere; it’s disgusting.” I nodded and turned, walking towards the staff quarters. Behind me, I heard Maya’s sobs and Liam’s low murmurs of comfort. I looked down at my hand. My palm was a mess of torn flesh and glass shards. In the past, I would have been crying from the pain. It was truly good now. This illness, though deadly, had become my shield in moments like these, allowing me to maintain my last shred of dignity.

Isabella POV Maybe the fall earlier that day hadn’t been misery enough. Liam woke me at two in the morning. His stomach hurt, he said. He wanted steak. Back when we were together, I’d been a princess who never stepped into a kitchen. But for him, I learned to pan-sear a steak. His stomach was sensitive, so I hunted for new recipes daily, tweaking and testing. He’d told me it was the best thing he’d ever tasted. I pulled on a robe and walked into the kitchen. I pulled on a robe and walked into the kitchen. My sense of taste had started leaving me a month ago. Now everything tasted like cardboard to me. I could no longer tell salt from sweet. I had to rely on memory for the measurements. One spoon of salt. Two of black pepper. My hand shook, and I couldn’t see the markings clearly. I think I added too much. Well. It would have to do. An hour later, the steak was done. It looked decent enough. I carried the plate into the study. Liam sat there, smoking.  Smoking with a stomachache? Had to be some kind of death wish. When I entered, he crushed the cigarette and gestured to the desk. “Set it there.” I did, and turned to go. “Wait.” His voice stopped me. “You’ll eat with me.” I paused. “I’m not hungry.” “I said eat.” Liam cut a piece of meat, but instead of eating it himself, he held it out to me. “Taste it. See if it’s like you remember.” I stared at the steaming piece, my stomach knotting. But I dared not refuse. I opened my mouth and took it. Chewed twice. Nothing. No taste at all. It was tough and rubbery, like chewing on an eraser. “Is it good?” Liam’s eyes pinned me. “Delicious,” I lied. Liam let out a short, cold laugh. He cut a piece for himself and put it in his mouth. The next second, he spat it straight into the trash. “Isabella, are you mocking me?” He slammed the knife and fork down. “You call this delicious? It’s inedible! Are you trying to poison me?” My stomach dropped. Too much salt. I’d been right. “I’m sorry, Liam. It’s been a while, I’m a bit out of practice.” “Out of practice?” He rose, crowding into my space. “I think you’d prefer me dead.” He picked up the whole plate. “Since you find it so ‘delicious,’ you finish it.” He thrust the plate at me. “Every last bite. Don’t you dare waste it.” I looked at the meat on the plate. If I ate all that, even without a sense of taste, my stomach would be ruined. But I looked into Liam’s venomous eyes and knew that if I didn’t eat, this night wouldn’t end. “Okay.” I took the plate. Without a knife and fork, I ate it directly with my hands. The scorching hot juices dripped onto my fingers. I watched my skin rapidly redden, but I felt no heat. I grabbed a piece of meat and shoved it into my mouth, swallowing it before I’d even chewed it properly. Then came the second piece, and the third. It felt like something was blocking my throat. My esophagus might have been burned, but I continued to mechanically force the meat into my mouth. Liam stood by, watching. At first, he had watched with a theatrical air, wanting to see me beg, to see me humiliated. But he hadn’t expected me to be so desperate. I kept eating, my face expressionless, as if completing a task. My lips were slick with grease, my cheeks puffed out. I even choked until my eyes rolled back, but I kept stuffing more in. “That’s enough!” Liam suddenly swung his arm, knocking the plate from my hands. The plate shattered, and steak scattered across the floor. “Isabella, are you insane?” He looked at my reddened fingers and my greasy mouth, and for the first time, a hint of terror appeared in his eyes. “You don’t feel the burn? You don’t taste the salt? Are you a robot?” I swallowed the last bite of meat in my mouth and wiped my lips with my sleeve. “Liam told me to eat, so I ate.” I looked at him, my voice calm. “Even if it were poison, I’d eat it if it made you happy.” Liam took a step back. He looked as if my words had scalded him. “Get out.” He pointed to the door, his voice hoarse. “Go brush your teeth. Get that taste out of your mouth. It’s disgusting.” I nodded and turned to leave. The moment I closed the door, I heard the sound of glass smashing against the wall inside. I leaned against the wall outside, clutching my stomach. It began to cramp, churning violently. Though I couldn’t feel the specific pain, the nausea, like my insides were being squeezed, was real. I rushed into the restroom, hugging the toilet, and retched violently. Everything I’d eaten came back up, mixed with streaks of blood. After I finished, I looked at myself in the mirror. My face was ghostly pale, my lips raw with burn blisters. So ugly. Isabella, you used to be so fond of beauty. How did you end up like this?

Isabella POV The next day, I was secretly taking my medication in the corner of my room. They were targeted therapy drugs specifically to inhibit tumor growth, with severe side effects, but they prolonged my life. Just as I poured a few pills into my palm, the door was kicked open. Liam strode in, his eyes immediately spotting the pills in my hand. “What are you hiding?” He grabbed my wrist with surprising force. I tried to pull my hand back, but he pried my fingers open. A few white pills rolled onto the floor. He picked up the pill bottle; I had already torn off the label. “What is this?” He held up the bottle, demanding. “Party drugs? Or some new designer drug?” My heart skipped a beat. I absolutely couldn’t let him know I was sick. If he knew I was dying, given his personality, he wouldn’t just refuse to let me off the hook; he’d think I was trying to gain sympathy. He might even cut off my medication, leaving me to a fate worse than death. Besides, I hadn’t yet uncovered the true mastermind who still wanted to harm him. I had to stay alive to finish this last piece of business. “Speak!” Liam slammed the pill bottle onto the table. I took a deep breath and forced a flippant smile. “Liam, you’re overthinking it. This isn’t some drug.” I bent down, picked up the pills from the floor, and blew off the dust. “These are birth control pills.” Liam froze. “Birth control pills?” “That’s right,” I said, feigning indifference. “In my line of work, there are so many clients. What if I got pregnant? That would be such a hassle. Abortions cost money and hurt the body, so it’s safer to take pills every day.” Liam’s face instantly turned ashen. “So many clients?” He gritted his teeth, repeating the words. “Isabella, how many men have you slept with?” “Too many to count.” I shrugged. “Anyone, as long as the money’s right. You know how I am, I just love money.” “Have you no shame?!” Liam suddenly exploded in rage, pinning me against the wall. He stared intensely into my eyes, as if trying to find any hint of a lie. But I was too good an actress. These three years of my life had already forged a thick mask on my face. “Liam, don’t worry.” I kept smiling, though the smile didn’t reach my eyes. “I’m very professional. I would never get pregnant with a client’s child, and certainly not with yours. I’m dirty, I know my place.” “Shut up!” Liam looked as if something had stung him, and he suddenly recoiled from me. He looked at me with an expression of contempt and disgust. “Don’t let me see you taking those things again.” He disgustedly wiped his hand, as if I were something repulsive. “In this house, do nothing but your chores. And go get a full physical exam. Don’t contaminate Maya with some disease.” “Of course, Liam.” I agreed obediently. “Will the medical expenses be reimbursed?” Liam’s face was contorted with rage as he turned and kicked the door open, storming out. Watching his retreating back, I let out a shaky breath. A sudden warmth flooded my nostrils. I touched it, and my hand came away covered in blood. I quickly tilted my head back, stuffing tissues into my nose. The nosebleeds were getting more frequent. This medication, it seemed, needed a higher dosage. Otherwise, I’d die before that five million ever materialized.

Isabella POV Perhaps retribution came too quickly. I fainted while cleaning the villa. That day, I was wiping the crystal chandelier on the second floor, perched on a ladder, when a sudden wave of vertigo washed over me. This time, it wasn’t the black spots of tunnel vision, but a complete sense of disorientation. I fell from the ladder, hitting the back of my head on the floor, and lost consciousness. When I woke again, I was in a hospital. White ceilings, the pungent smell of disinfectant. I shot upright, tearing the IV from my arm, ready to flee. I couldn’t stay in the hospital. What if Liam checked my medical records…? “Stay put!” A stern voice rang out from the doorway. I turned and saw a man in a white coat walk in. Carter. My attending physician, and my college classmate. For these three years, he had secretly gotten me medication and helped me conceal my illness. “Are you trying to die?” Carter slammed the patient chart onto the bedside table. “With intracranial pressure this high, you dare run around? Do you want to be brain dead by tomorrow?” “Where’s Liam?” I asked nervously. “He’s outside paying the bill.” Carter’s face was grim. “Isabella, I can’t help you anymore. I have to tell him about your condition. You need surgery immediately!” “No!” I grabbed his sleeve. “Carter, please, don’t tell him! If I tell him now, everything I’ve done will be for nothing! He’ll think I’m using my death to blackmail him. You know what he’s like, he won’t believe it!” “But you’ll die!” Carter’s eyes were red with urgency. “So be it,” I released his sleeve and leaned back against the headboard. “I’ve lived long enough anyway. I just need that five million to buy my mother a good burial plot, pay off my debts, and then I can leave cleanly.” The doorknob turned. Liam was about to come in. I steeled myself; there was no time to hesitate. I lunged into Carter’s arms, wrapping my hands around his neck, and cried out loudly, “Take me away! Carter, take me away! I don’t want to be with him! I want to elope with you!” The door opened. Liam stood in the doorway, holding the payment slip. He saw Carter and me embracing, and his entire body froze. Then, his handsome face instantly contorted. “Isabella!” He rushed forward, tearing Carter and me apart. “What did you just say? Elope?” He pointed at Carter, then at me. “Is this the man you’ve been keeping? The gigolo you spent my life savings on?” Carter stumbled backward from the shove, about to explain. “Liam, actually, Isabella, she…” I cried, cutting him off. “Yes, I love him! I don’t love you, Liam! I took your money so I could run away with him. Are you happy now?!” As I shouted, I desperately motioned to him with my eyes, begging him to stay silent. Carter saw the frantic plea in my gaze. His lips parted, but in the end, he swallowed the truth. Liam let out a cold, humorless laugh. He nodded, his eyes looking at us as if we were already dead. “Good. Perfect.” He turned and drove his foot into Carter’s stomach. A pained grunt escaped Carter as he crumpled to the floor. “You think you can run? Not a chance.” Liam grabbed my hair, forcing me to look at him. “Isabella, since you love him so much, I’ll show you how I ruin him.” “From today on, Carter, you can forget about a career in medicine. Any hospital that dares to hire you, I’ll buy it.” With that, he ignored my hospital gown and dragged me out of the ward like a rag doll. I looked back and saw Carter clutching his stomach, his eyes filled with sorrow and helpless resignation. I’m sorry, Carter. To keep this secret, I had to drag you down with me.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “357214”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster #浪漫Romance

My husband is a star personal trainer at the gym. He’s got a great body and tons of female clients. I was scrolling through TikTok when I came across a video titled “Immersive Personal Training Session.” “I met this incredible trainer who doesn’t just teach me how to build a peachy butt—he teaches me how to use it too.” The caption was obscenely explicit: “He says his wife at home is too conservative. She won’t even wear yoga pants. But me in my sweat-soaked workout gear? That’s what drives him wild.” “Every stretching session, he stretches me to the depths of my soul. Says my flexibility is ten thousand times better than his wife’s.” Someone in the comments asked: “Is the trainer single?” Her reply: “Married, but he told me—marriage is responsibility. I’m his pleasure.” “Just now his wife checked up on him. He sent her a voice message saying he was training a client’s legs, while he was still going at it with me. So bad~” At the end of the video, the camera swept across the man’s calf. There was a vicious scar there—a badge of honor from last year when he saved me from nearly being hit by a car. And right now, that leg was propped up on the woman’s shoulder.

The light from my phone screen stabbed at my eyes. On the screen, a woman in tight yoga clothes was sprawled on a yoga mat. A pair of large hands pressed down on her perky buttocks. “Coach, please be gentle~” The woman’s voice dripped with seduction. “Can’t handle it already?” The man’s voice was low and laced with laughter, carrying notes of flirtation and wild desire. It was Derek Chase. The same Derek who blushed at saying anything harsh to me, who came home every day only to complain about being tired. I stared at the top comment’s reply beneath the video. [Married, but he told me—marriage is responsibility. I’m his pleasure.] I clicked into the woman’s profile. Her pinned video had this caption: [I’m pouting, he’s smiling. This is what love looks like at its best.] In the video, Derek was doing push-ups with her on his back. With each push-up, she leaned down and kissed his neck. Derek’s face was full of adoration. The video was posted yesterday at 9 PM. At that exact time, I’d been writhing in bed with acute gastroenteritis, calling him in agony. He’d said: “Mara, I’m with a private training client. This student is really important—yearly membership, big spender. I can’t leave. Just drink some hot water, okay? Be good.” So this was the truth. My stomach churned violently. I rushed to the bathroom and threw up until I was dizzy. The door lock clicked. Derek was home. He walked into the bedroom carrying the winter chill and the scent of body wash. Not the brand we used at home. It was a sickeningly sweet peach scent. “Mara, why are you still up?” He walked over, trying to hug me like always. I instinctively turned away. His hand froze mid-air. He frowned, then quickly switched to a concerned expression. “What’s wrong? Still mad about yesterday? I told you, that was for work. To earn money for our family.” He sat on the edge of the bed and reached out to feel my forehead. I looked down at his calf. His pant leg had ridden up slightly, revealing that winding scar. It was from last year when an out-of-control electric scooter came rushing at me, and he threw himself in front of me without hesitation. Back then he’d said: “Mara, as long as you’re okay, losing a leg would be worth it.” At that moment, I’d sworn to love him forever. But now, that scar was like a mocking mouth, silently ridiculing my stupidity. “Derek,” my voice came out hoarse. “Why do you smell like peaches?” His expression flickered, gone in an instant. “Oh, the gym switched to new body wash. The scent is pretty strong. If you don’t like it, I’ll shower again when I get home next time.” His answer was airtight. “That big client yesterday—male or female?” I stared into his eyes. Derek sighed, his tone tinged with impatience. “Mara, are you interrogating me again? Of course it’s a guy. What female client would have the stamina to train that late?” “Really?” I pulled out my phone and held it in front of his face. “Then who’s this woman? And whose scar is this on that leg?” The video played. The woman’s breathy moans echoed through the quiet bedroom. Derek’s pupils dilated. He snatched my phone away, his fingers flying across the screen. “Mara! Can you stop being so paranoid and watching this garbage all day?” He looked at me, his face full of wronged fury. “This is for marketing! To sell training packages! Do you have any idea how competitive the gym industry is? Without these provocative gimmicks, who’s going to buy packages?” “This is all scripted! It’s staged!” “Staged?” “Staging requires you to go to bed with her? Staging requires you to say I’m responsibility and she’s pleasure?” Derek froze for a second, then flew into an embarrassed rage. “That’s just copywriting! Do you understand internet marketing? Mara, I bust my ass out there every day—for who? And here you are, not only showing no appreciation, but attacking me over this nonsense!” He got more worked up as he spoke. “If you don’t trust me this much, there’s no point in staying together!” With that, he grabbed his pillow, slammed the door viciously, and went to the guest room.

I lay awake with my eyes open until dawn. The next morning, while I was still washing up, my phone buzzed. A friend request on SnapChat. Username: “Ivy.” Verification message: [Hi there, I’m Coach Derek’s student. I wanted to explain things to you.] I accepted. The next second, a photo came through. A man’s hand resting on a woman’s thigh. The hand wore a wedding ring. [Ivy: Girl, you really don’t get it. Men work hard out there. When they come home and still have to deal with your attitude, who wouldn’t feel suffocated?] [Ivy: Derek says you have zero sense of romance. You won’t even let him rip off your yoga pants. So boring.] My hand trembled as I held the phone. [Ivy: If I were you, I’d gracefully step aside. After all, Derek’s happiness now comes from me.] Naked provocation. I screenshotted everything and was about to reply when Derek emerged from the guest room. He’d changed into tight workout clothes, his hair slicked back. “Mara, I’m skipping breakfast. Got an early class.” He acted like nothing had happened, completely forgetting last night’s fight. “Derek.” I held up my phone, showing Ivy’s photos on the screen. Derek’s expression changed. He strode over and grabbed my wrist. “She contacted you? That crazy girl!” After seeing the chat history, instead of showing guilt, he actually looked relieved. “Mara, don’t listen to her nonsense. She’s just some spoiled rich brat with mental problems. Delusional.” “Delusional enough to have your hand on her thigh?” Derek ran his hand through his hair in frustration. “That was to keep her hooked! She just dropped two hundred thousand on training packages with me! Two hundred thousand, Mara!” “The customer is king. When the king makes excessive demands, can I refuse? I’m just playing along!” He looked at me self-righteously. “Can you be a little more mature? Stop competing with some young girl, okay?” “Mature?” I laughed bitterly. “Derek, you call cheating ‘playing along’? You call your mistress provoking me ‘a delusional young girl’?” “What cheating! Don’t make it sound so ugly!” Derek raised his voice. “Don’t I give you all the money I earn?” “Mara, have a conscience. I nearly crippled my leg saving you. Now I’m sacrificing my dignity for this family, and instead of being grateful, you keep attacking me. Are you trying to drive me to death?” He brought up that scar again. Every time we fought, he’d mention that car accident. And every time he mentioned it, I’d have to back down. But this time, I wasn’t backing down. “If it’s so unbearable, refund the money. Stop training this client.” I stared at him. “Two hundred thousand. We don’t need it.” Derek exploded. “Are you insane? That’s two hundred thousand! You think you can just say no to it? You think money grows on trees?” “Mara, you’re being so selfish! Who am I working so hard for? Now you want me to refund the money? You’re trying to destroy my career!” He glared at me viciously. “This is unbelievable! I’m not coming home tonight. I’m working overtime at the gym!” The door slammed shut. I looked at the empty house, my heart growing colder by the second. My phone buzzed again. [Ivy: Derek left, didn’t he? He said he’s coming to my place tonight to fix my plumbing. Want to come watch?] The attached image showed lingerie. I replied with one sentence. [Sure. Send me your address.] Silence for a few seconds. [Ivy: Skyline International Apartments. You actually dare to come? Don’t cry on your way home.]

I changed clothes and put on careful makeup. Skyline International Apartments was one of the city’s most upscale complexes. I didn’t go up right away. Instead, I went to a nearby mall. I bought the latest model action camera and clipped it to my bag strap. Then I headed to Derek’s gym. Before I even entered, I heard cheering inside. “Derek’s the man! Those weighted squats—nobody does it like you!” “Ivy’s got an incredible body!” I pushed open the glass door. A crowd had gathered in the personal training area. Derek was lying on a bench press, hands gripping a barbell. And Ivy was straddling his waist. With each of Derek’s movements, she rose and fell, making sounds that would make anyone blush. “Coach, faster~” The woman’s voice was unbearably seductive. “Can’t handle this already?” The man’s voice was low and amused, dripping with flirtation and wildness. The male trainers and clients around them whistled. Derek’s face was flushed red, his eyes filled with enjoyment and excitement. This wasn’t fitness training. This was public foreplay. I stood outside the crowd, coldly watching the scene. Someone noticed me. “Hey, isn’t that Derek’s wife?” Derek’s movements faltered. He nearly dropped the barbell. Ivy turned to see me. Instead of getting off, she wrapped her arms around Derek’s neck and raised her chin at me in challenge. “Oh, look who’s here. Derek’s giving me core training. Want to try it too?” Derek frantically pushed Ivy off and sat up. “Mara, what are you doing here?” He wiped his sweat, eyes darting away. “Didn’t you say you were resting at home?” I walked over, looking at Ivy’s face—full of collagen but written all over with desire. “I came to bring you lunch.” I held up my thermos. “I was worried you were working too hard and not eating enough.” Ivy burst out laughing. “Bringing lunch? Girl, what is this, elementary school? A beast like Derek needs protein, not your watery soup.” She reached out and poked Derek’s chest. “Right, Derek? You just said earlier that after having the imported protein powder I bought you, your stamina got way better.” Derek looked around awkwardly and grabbed my arm, pulling me toward the break room. “Enough. Don’t make a scene. People are watching.” Once in the break room, he flung my hand away, his expression darkening. “Mara, what exactly are you trying to do? Come here to sabotage me on purpose?” “Bringing you lunch is sabotaging you?” I looked at him. “But her riding on top of you and moaning—that’s bringing you honor?” “That was a training movement! Glute bridges! Do you understand anything?” Derek hissed in a low voice. “In front of all those clients, you show up with that dead face—you know how embarrassing that was for me?” “Embarrassing?” “Your pride comes from having female clients ride on top of you?” “Shut up!” Derek pointed at my nose. “Ivy’s a rich kid. Her family’s loaded. What leaks through her fingers is enough to keep us comfortable! That’s just her personality. Can’t you just turn a blind eye?” “Turn a blind eye and wait for her to move in?” “You’re impossible!” Derek spun around in frustration. “Mara, look at yourself. What do you have that compares to her? She’s young, beautiful, knows how to flirt, knows how to have fun. And you? You’re lifeless all day, dressed like a middle-aged woman. I’m embarrassed to take you anywhere!” I felt like I’d been struck by lightning. Middle-aged woman? Who was it that used to say he loved my bare face the most? Who said I looked better without makeup than all those “cheap sluts”? Turns out, when love dies, even breathing is wrong. Just then, the break room door was pushed open. Ivy leaned against the doorframe. “Derek, don’t be angry. If you damage your health, who’s going to train with me?” She walked in, completely ignoring my presence, and handed water directly to Derek’s lips. “Have some water and calm down. She’s older, probably going through menopause. Gets sensitive easily. You need to be understanding.” Derek took the water and drank from her hand, his anger dissipating, replaced by an ingratiating smile. “You’re so understanding, Ivy.” Ivy turned to look at me, her eyes full of contempt. “Did you hear that? Men need to be coaxed. Being aggressive like this will only push him further away.” “By the way, are we still on for fixing the plumbing tonight? I’ve been preparing for so long.” Her gaze swept over Derek’s lower body. Derek coughed dryly, glanced at me guiltily, then said to Ivy: “Yes, of course. When have I ever broken a promise to you?” My heart turned to ice. Right in front of me, he was openly flirting and making hookup plans. I set the thermos on the table. “Fine. Since you need to fix plumbing, I won’t disturb you.” I turned to leave. Behind me came Ivy’s triumphant laughter: “Take care, bye now~” Derek didn’t chase after me. I walked out of the gym into blinding sunlight. I touched the camera on my bag strap. The red light kept blinking. Perfect. Derek. Ivy. I’ll repay every humiliation you’ve given me, with interest.

At 10 PM, rain poured down. I received a call from the hospital. “Is this Ms. Mara Evans? Your father has had a sudden cerebral hemorrhage. He’s in emergency surgery. We need a family member to sign immediately!” The phone nearly slipped from my hand. My dad had high blood pressure, but it had always been well-controlled. How could he suddenly have a brain hemorrhage? I rushed to the hospital while calling Derek. The background on his end was noisy—heavy metal music and women’s screaming. “What? I’m busy right now!” Derek’s voice was impatient, clearly drunk. “Derek, my dad’s having a brain hemorrhage. He’s in surgery. Come to City General Hospital now! The doctor needs family to sign. I’m scared by myself…” My voice trembled. Tears streamed uncontrollably down my face. “Brain hemorrhage?” Derek paused, then sneered. “Mara, if you’re going to make up excuses, at least make them believable. You’d even curse your own father just to trick me into coming back?” “I’m not lying! It’s real! The doctor issued a critical condition notice!” I shouted into the phone. “Enough! Stop acting!” Derek cut me off impatiently. “Ivy just twisted her ankle. She’s in a lot of pain. I’m taking her to the hospital. Your dad’s chronic condition—just give him some medicine. Stop making a big deal out of nothing.” “Twisted ankle?” I asked in disbelief. “My father’s life is hanging by a thread, and you’re telling me about her twisted ankle?” “A twisted ankle is serious! She could have a fracture! She’s a dancer—her legs are her life!” Derek shouted back self-righteously. “Besides, your dad’s condition isn’t new. It could happen any time. Why now? I think you’re all conspiring to mess with me!” “Derek! Are you even human? That’s my father! Your father-in-law!” “Stop guilt-tripping me! I can’t leave right now! Ivy’s crying in pain. I need to stay with her for X-rays. Handle it yourself. Stop bothering me!” “Beep—” The call ended. I held my phone and looked down at my social media feed. Ivy had posted an update one minute ago. [Is this what it feels like to be cherished? I casually mentioned wanting to go clubbing, and he ditched the old hag at home to take me out~] The photo showed a club booth. Derek had his arm around her. Ivy’s leg was propped up on the coffee table, looking perfectly fine—not the slightest sign of injury. So in his heart, my father’s life wasn’t worth as much as his mistress saying “I want to go clubbing.” The surgical lights went out. The doctor emerged, removing his mask and shaking his head. “I’m sorry. We did everything we could. He was brought in too late…” My vision went black. My phone buzzed again. Derek’s voice message. “Okay, stop pretending. I transferred five thousand dollars. Take your dad to buy some supplements. I’m not coming home tonight. Ivy’s really shaken up. I need to stay with her. Be reasonable and stop calling me.” [Transfer: $5,000] Looking at that red transfer notification, I didn’t cry. Five thousand dollars. It bought out the last of my illusions about him.

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“Lauren! You were hooking up in a classroom!” Someone shoved me hard to the ground, and my intimate clothing came raining down on my head. Mixed with that familiar scent, along with mocking jeers from everyone around me. The student advisor standing nearby had a face as black as coal. He waved his hand to dismiss the gawking crowd. “You had the guts to put on a show right here in the classroom—why not strip down completely and give us the full performance?” Laughter with unclear undertones rippled through the crowd. Several guys nearby exchanged knowing glances, their lecherous gazes landing on me. In my past life, my roommate Sarah had tricked me into coming to the classroom and made me take the fall for her. She and her boyfriend had gotten hot and heavy in the classroom. When they were caught, she hid my underwear there and pinned the blame on me. Worse yet, her boyfriend Mark insisted that I had seduced him. Under the fury of the mob, I became everyone’s target. The guaranteed graduate school admission I had planned for was canceled because of this incident. People called me a slut, questioned whether my top grades were also stolen. Under crushing pressure, I was driven to jump from a building and kill myself! Reborn, watching Mark and Sarah—that pair of scheming scumbags—I clenched my fists. This time, I won’t fall for your tricks again!

“Lauren, explain yourself. What happened?” The advisor sat at the desk with a dark expression, his tone full of impatience. “At such a young age, instead of studying properly, you do this kind of shameful thing in a classroom? You’ve made our entire department lose face.” The advisor showed no curiosity about the truth, only undisguised disgust. I forced myself to stand up from the ground, dusted off my clothes, and picked up that lace bra from the desk. “Shouldn’t you know better than anyone what really happened here?” I held the bra up toward Sarah, catching the flash of shock in her eyes, and sneered. “Stop pretending. You think framing me will get you off the hook?” Sarah hurriedly hid behind the advisor, tears welling in her eyes. “Professor, I’m innocent.” Professor Julian patted Sarah’s shoulder comfortingly, then turned and glared at me furiously. “Lauren, I never thought you’d be this kind of person. Sarah has always been gentle and mild-mannered, and she’s on the school’s financial aid program for underprivileged students. How could she possibly do something like this? I think you’re the shameless one, and now that you’ve been caught red-handed, you’re trying to drag someone else down with you!” He kept Sarah protectively behind him, his favoritism obvious. I suddenly remembered that in my past life, if it weren’t for him, my conviction wouldn’t have been sealed so quickly. It seemed he and Sarah had been colluding even back then. “Julian, how can you prove this thing is mine?” I raised an eyebrow and pulled out my phone, opening the chat history. “She sent me a message just now saying she had something important to discuss. That’s the only reason I came to the classroom. Otherwise, why would I be here?” Julian didn’t even look before swatting my hand away, his voice furious. “You even forged chat records? Lauren, do you have any awareness of what it means to be a college student? Have all those years of education been completely wasted on you?” Julian was livid. “And you call yourself an outstanding student. Looks like I need to have the school revoke all those honors. And forget about that graduate school recommendation.” I wasn’t anxious at all. Instead, I smiled. “Julian, the truth hasn’t even been investigated yet. Is it necessary to jump to conclusions so quickly? Or do you already know the truth and are deliberately covering it up?” I smiled without warmth, watching his face grow darker and darker. Until Mark suddenly rushed forward with an angry shout. “Lauren! You bitch! Last week you cornered me in the cafeteria saying you wanted to date me. After I rejected you, you held a grudge and set up this scheme to frame me. You’re truly vicious!” Watching his self-directed theatrical performance, I sneered. “Really? Wasn’t it actually you threatening me to give up my graduate school recommendation slot? And when I refused, you flew into a rage? How did it suddenly become me framing you?” I opened another recording on my phone. “I happened to record it. Want to listen together?” As soon as the recording started playing, Julian suddenly rushed over, trying to grab my phone. “You’re invading a student’s privacy!” I nimbly dodged to the side, deliberately turning the phone volume to maximum. “This counts as a threat? Then what about him just now trying to rush over and tear me apart? Julian, you seem awfully anxious. Are you deliberately trying to cover for a student?” Mark was a student council officer who loved sucking up to people and had won the favor of many teachers. Julian protecting him was understandable. “Lauren, you dare slander both students and teachers? Believe it or not, I’ll put a disciplinary mark on your record right now?” “All you ever talk about is disciplinary marks. Besides that, what else can you do? Anyway, I’m keeping all this evidence. If the school requires it, I’ll cooperate with the investigation at any time.” I put my phone in my pocket. Snickering laughter rose around us. They seemed to find it satisfying that I’d talked back to the teacher. “But if it turns out I’m not at fault, Julian, I’ll need you to apologize to me publicly.” Julian snorted coldly. “If you really are innocent, I’ll get down on my knees and apologize to you publicly. I’ve been a teacher for so many years, and I’ve never seen a student like you!”

“Fine, then it’s settled.” I turned to look at Mark, whose face had gone deathly pale. In my past life, if he hadn’t insisted on pinning everything on me, I wouldn’t have been called names to my face. “I remember there are security cameras in the third-floor hallway and behind the classroom. Pull up the footage and we’ll know who’s lying. Julian, go check it quickly.” After hearing this, Julian’s face instantly stiffened, as if he’d forgotten about the security cameras. But he quickly steeled himself and lied without changing his expression. “The cameras just happened to break recently. Can’t check them. Besides, you shouldn’t be hanging around empty classrooms anyway. You came here on your own, so if something happens, it’s your own responsibility.” My heart suddenly ached. In my past life, he had said the exact same thing to me in the office. He said I had “bad character” and “flies don’t land on uncracked eggs”—that everything was my own fault. That’s why I became so disheartened that I jumped from the tall building. “Really? The cameras are broken? Then let’s go check right now and see if they’re actually broken.” I turned to leave, but Julian suddenly grabbed my sleeve, his grip vicious. “You’re a student in my class, and I’m your advisor. This matter is my responsibility. Where do you think you’re going?” I jerked free and pointed at the male students around us whose mouths were full of filthy, obscene remarks. “Then as my advisor, when they’re filming me with their phones and saying disgusting, perverted things, why are you pretending not to see it? I’m your student. Instead of trying to get to the truth first, you’re arguing with me. Is that your job?” I grabbed Julian’s wrist and rushed outside. “Whether the cameras are broken or not, we’ll know once we check at the security office!” Julian struggled and roared like a pig being slaughtered: “Lauren, you’re staging a rebellion!” Sarah rushed forward desperately to block us, but I swung my hand and knocked her aside. She stumbled and crashed into a desk corner. Shocked cries rose all around. Sarah’s face instantly turned pale as paper. Just then, a senior administrator from the school suddenly pushed the door open. Toby, who led the group, had a serious expression. His gaze swept over everyone present: “Everyone follow me to the office for questioning! Who gave you permission to gather and cause trouble during class hours?” We were all brought to the office together. Also there were two other roommates from our dorm, Rachel and Jenna. They usually got along well with me and had long been dissatisfied with Sarah monopolizing the financial aid slot. They would definitely testify about Sarah’s behavior! “Rachel, Jenna, thank goodness you’re here. Tell them—isn’t this underwear Sarah’s?” I grabbed their hands like they were lifelines. “We called you two here to get to the bottom of whose clothing this actually is.” As soon as the door closed, Toby’s face darkened enough to drip water. “The four of you share a dorm room. You’re most familiar with Sarah and Lauren’s usual behavior. Now tell me, whose underwear is this? I will see that justice is served.” After Toby finished speaking, Jenna and Rachel glanced at each other and swallowed hard. “We can testify that Sarah stole this clothing from Lauren.” Instantly, the room fell silent. Julian’s expression turned ashen. “You two better think carefully! Do you know what consequences lying to Toby will bring?” Jenna nodded. “We’re telling the truth.” Then they both said something that left me completely stunned. “But the person who was fooling around with Mark in the classroom was indeed Lauren.”

Bone-chilling cold shot up from the soles of my feet to the top of my head. Looking at Rachel and Jenna’s evasive eyes and the phones peeking out of their pockets. I understood almost immediately—they had been bought off too. In my past life, even until my death, I never knew that these two roommates I lived with day and night had betrayed me long ago. Sarah peeked out from behind Julian, looking pitiful: “Lauren, I know you resent me, but Rachel and Jenna are innocent. Stop struggling and just admit it.” Hearing this, Mark straightened his back triumphantly: “Lauren, even your roommates are saying this. What else do you have to argue? Confess early and maybe you’ll get lighter treatment.” Julian immediately chimed in: “Professor Toby, the facts are very clear! I recommend immediately revoking Lauren’s graduate school recommendation and giving her a major disciplinary mark to set an example!” The three of them sang in harmony, as if I really were that shameless criminal. That suffocating feeling from my past life hit me again. But this time, I didn’t cry. Instead, I laughed. “In that case,” I walked up to Rachel and stared into her eyes, “you borrowed my tablet last week. Time to return it now, right?” In my past life, Rachel had cried to me about not having study tools and borrowed my tablet. After I lent it to her, I discovered she actually wanted my review materials and papers. By the time I found out, she had already sold them to other people. So almost the entire major had copies of the materials I’d painstakingly compiled. And Rachel kept my tablet for herself. If I hadn’t brought it up, she probably wouldn’t even remember to return it. If I wasn’t mistaken, it should contain her chat history with Sarah. Rachel’s face changed dramatically, and she instinctively covered her backpack: “The tablet’s not here. It’s in the dorm.” “Really?” I smiled without warmth and pulled out my phone, opening the cloud backup for my devices. It showed my tablet was nearby. “Take out what’s in your bag.” My voice was cold. Toby on the side seemed to realize something, his face darkening. “Rachel, please take out what’s in your bag.” Rachel instinctively looked toward Sarah. But Sarah had already frozen completely in place. I yanked her backpack away and pulled out my tablet. “You changed my lock screen password so quickly. Looks like you planned to keep it for yourself all along.” I smiled and held the tablet screen up to her. “Unlock it.”

Rachel’s hands trembled as she entered her own birthday. I fiddled with it briefly and pulled up the relevant chat records. “You don’t even delete your chat history? Or did you think I was too stupid to check?” I handed the tablet to Toby. “Professor Toby, I think you need to see this.” Toby took it, and three seconds later his face turned ashen. “Rachel, Sarah, you actually slandered a classmate for money and materials? Julian, these are the students you’ve taught?” Julian, whose name was called, trembled all over, stuttering without being able to say a word. “I—” “And you, Jenna. You secretly took my paper to submit for publication, and after it was rejected you turned around and cursed me out. Want me to show those records to Toby too?” Jenna, suddenly called out, was so frightened she couldn’t say a word. Nearby, Sarah’s tears and snot flowed together as she suddenly dropped to her knees. “Lauren, I was wrong… This is all my fault.” She slapped herself twice hard. Her originally fair cheeks immediately swelled up. “I know I come from a humble background and don’t deserve to compete with you. This is all my fault…” Watching her groveling, fake performance, I remembered my past life when I was driven to jump from the building—their triumphant smiles. Only cold hatred remained in my eyes. Originally my family was happy and harmonious, and my parents were proud of me. After she framed me, everything changed overnight. When I became a ghost drifting through the night after jumping, I clearly saw how my parents sobbed while holding my corpse. And she stepped on my honor, claiming various scholarships and rising to great heights. Just then, Toby’s phone rang. He answered, listened for a few moments, and his expression grew even more serious. “Alright, I understand. Come over right now.” Julian still tried to struggle: “Lauren, you’re framing people! Even if they were wrong, it doesn’t prove you’re innocent! The surveillance footage has been destroyed—you have no evidence!” “Julian, you want evidence, is that it?” I pulled a USB drive from my bag and slapped it on the table. “Last year the school installed a hidden camera in the classroom ceiling to prevent fire hazards. If I’m not mistaken, you and Sarah didn’t have time to destroy that one, did you?” Toby picked up the USB drive. Just as he was about to insert it into the computer, Julian suddenly rushed over like a madman trying to grab it. “Julian, the USB only has my thesis and review materials on it. What I said before was to trick you.” I sneered. “This is the real one.” As I pressed play on my phone, the conversation between Julian and a school administrator immediately echoed throughout the classroom.

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My mom is my homeroom teacher, and she loves using me to establish her authority. When I passed an eraser to a classmate during class, she slapped my face swollen in front of the entire class. When I sneakily ate a few crumbs of a classmate’s chips during break, Mom dragged me to the podium and stabbed my mouth with a needle until blood poured out. Later, when the dean caught some students dating, Mom insisted it was me without asking any questions and dragged me to the hallway, stripping off my clothes. Then she went to the dean’s office, all smiles and apologies: “I’m so sorry, Dean Morrison. I haven’t educated Nina properly. Don’t worry, I’ll punish her severely this time!” Dean frowned: “What Nina? The student who was dating isn’t this girl.” Mom froze for a moment, then said dismissively: “Oh, it’s fine. Nina breaks rules all the time anyway. One more punishment won’t hurt.” But what she doesn’t know is that every time she hits me, I secretly deduct a point from her score in my mind. Just now, I’ve accumulated 100 points. Without hesitation, I leapt from the sixth-floor hallway window. Mom, is using death to establish your authority enough?

I walked into the classroom holding my midterm exam paper, my right cheek swollen like a bun, traces of blood at the corner of my mouth. The students around me whispered: “Nina got beaten again, just because she didn’t get a perfect score in math. So tragic…” Wendy rolled her eyes: “Tragic? Her mom’s the homeroom teacher. She has access to the best resources and still can’t get a perfect score. Who else should get beaten?” I paused, swallowing the bitterness at the tip of my nose, and walked into the classroom. Just now in the office, Mom had slapped my face swollen in front of all the teachers and students. “98 points? Should you have lost those two points? Speak up!” Mom’s furious roar still seemed to echo in my ears. The beating left my right ear ringing so badly I could barely hear. But Mom still didn’t stop the punishment: “If you make such a careless mistake again, I’ll slap your left cheek swollen too!” Then she looked at the students behind me: “Those of you who also lost points due to carelessness, did you see that?” I didn’t know how the students behind me reacted. I just kept my head down, my fingers nearly drawing blood from my palms. After the other students left, Wendy stepped forward with a smile, acting cute with Mom: “Ms. Sterling, I didn’t mean to be so careless. I won’t do it again next time~” Mom smiled at her indulgently: “You’re always like this! Don’t do it again, understand?” Wendy stuck out her tongue playfully. I pressed my lips together, my fingers digging deeper. “Alright, you can all go now!” Mom waved her hand. Only then did I dare to slowly turn around, expertly pulling up my hoodie to hide my numb, beaten face. The second before leaving the office, I heard a teacher from another class say admiringly to my mom: “Wendy really is Ms. Sterling’s favorite class representative. You wouldn’t even touch a finger on her.” “Ms. Sterling really knows how to raise children. Your daughter just lets you hit her without making a sound!” Mom said proudly: “Wendy’s not dumb, she just doesn’t use her cleverness in the right places! As for my daughter, she’s been this obedient since childhood. She never talks back.” But Mom doesn’t know. Someone who doesn’t fight back when beaten or cursed is either a dog or a corpse. Because Mom uses me to establish authority, no one in class dares to be my friend. Enduring the pain in my right hand, I returned to my seat and pulled out a miniature notebook from my sleeve. “Face slapped swollen for scoring 98 on math test. Deduct 1 point from Mom.” I wrote it down silently. This is the 99th time already. That means Mom has used me to establish her authority exactly 99 times. One more time, and I’ll be free. For a warrior, making a life-or-death decision takes only a moment. But I’m not a warrior. I’m an ordinary person, cowardly and weak. I carefully tucked the notebook back into my sleeve and took out my math paper. Even though it was break time, I wasn’t allowed to play with others. Listening to the sounds of classmates laughing and playing around me, the wound on my right cheek seemed to hurt even more. Wendy walked over to me, sneering with contempt: “Nina, Ms. Sterling treats me like a real daughter. You must be an orphan Ms. Sterling picked up, nothing more than a punching bag.” I clenched my fists tightly, staring at her coldly: “Someone whose mother abandoned her loves stealing other people’s moms.” Wendy’s mother ran off with someone else when she was four years old. This wasn’t a secret in class. At these words, Wendy’s eyes widened, instantly furious: “Nina, you just wait!” “I’m waiting.” I said coldly. She would just go whisper in Mom’s ear and get me another beating. Perfect. That would be doing me one last favor.

That evening, I pushed open the front door and smelled the familiar aroma of food. The living room glowed with warm yellow light. Mom sat at the dining table with a salad and pizza in front of her. I changed my shoes very quietly, trying to hide my swollen right cheek and the blood traces at the corner of my mouth in the shadows. But the moment I moved, Mom looked up. “You’re back?” Her voice was still stern, but carried a trace of barely perceptible concern. “Does your face still hurt?” I lowered my eyes, shook my head, and sat down at the other end of the table, taking small bites of food. Each bite was torture. Every chew pulled at my facial muscles. It hurt so much. I just swallowed the food whole instead. Suddenly, Mom put down her fork and knife and walked over. My body instinctively stiffened, the muscles in my back tensing. But she just knelt down beside me, reached out her hand, and with cool fingertips, lightly touched my burning, badly swollen cheek. I flinched like I’d been electrocuted. Her fingers paused, and she sighed deeply: “Nina, it hasn’t been easy for Mom to raise you alone.” As she spoke, her eyes gradually reddened. Shedding the daytime armor of a homeroom teacher, she became a struggling single mother. “Mom’s a homeroom teacher managing over fifty kids. Without authority, I can’t function. Discipline falls apart, grades drop, the principal comes after me, parents complain about me.” “You’re Mom’s daughter. If you perform the best, behave the most properly, excel the most, only then will the other students respect me, fear me. Mom needs to establish authority.” Her rough fingers caressed the corner of my eye. That area was dry. I hadn’t cried. I just looked at her slightly red eyes, at that old house dress washed until it was faded and white. Something inside my heart seemed to break open. After a long while, I heard my own dry voice: “Today… Wendy told me I’m just a punching bag, that you don’t see me as your daughter at all.” Mom’s hand froze. The sadness and vulnerability on her face receded like a tide, replaced by an offended severity. “What nonsense are you talking about?!” Mom’s voice suddenly rose, the caring mother image instantly swept away: “You must have said something provocative to Wendy first. Even if you’re jealous of her, you shouldn’t lie!” I closed my eyes, but couldn’t help opening my mouth to sneer: “What am I jealous of? Her bad grades? Her absent mother?” “Slap!” A vicious slap rang out. I was struck so hard my head whipped to the side. My already swollen right cheek swelled even higher. For a moment, my right ear seemed to go deaf. “How can you talk like that? Such vicious words, I can’t believe they came from my own daughter’s mouth!” “Own daughter…” I repeated the words in a murmur, suddenly finding it absurdly funny, almost wanting to laugh. “So I deserve to be beaten the hardest? Deserve to have no dignity?” “You!” Mom’s chest heaved with anger, her pointing finger trembling. “You’re so ungrateful! I’ve worked so hard…” I expertly tuned out her tearful complaints. Once, these words could instantly soften my heart, make me think Mom had it so hard. But today, those words passed through that hole like wind, leaving no trace. For my own good—so she had to slap my face swollen, had to stab my mouth with needles. So “for my own good” was this kind of bone-scraping, dignity-crushing pain. After she finished scolding, she wiped her face, stood up, and returned to that exhausted calm, as if her earlier rage was just my imagination: “Alright, hurry up and eat. You need to get up early tomorrow.” I lowered my head and continued eating the pizza that had long gone cold. Under the table, my fingers curled, rubbing the miniature notebook hidden in my sleeve. Soon. I said to myself in my heart.

The next day at school. After the lunch break bell rang, I pressed my face against the desk, my right cheek against the cool surface, trying to ease the pain. Wendy suddenly walked in with her head held high, leaned close to my ear, her voice full of undisguised glee: “You’re finished.” I looked down indifferently, thinking carelessly. If I died, Mom would probably adopt Wendy as her daughter. After all, she loves Wendy most. I just wonder if Wendy can withstand her authority-establishing methods. Just then, the door was suddenly slammed open with such force that everyone looked up. Mom stood in the doorway, chest heaving violently, face ashen. She walked to the center of the classroom, her gaze like a poisoned probe, slowly and coldly piercing through each panicked face one by one. Finally, that gaze locked firmly onto me. My heart suddenly sank, plunging into an ice cellar. “Our class has really outdone itself.” She suppressed the terrifying storm in her eyes. “Someone’s thoughts aren’t where they should be, learning those low-class things—dating! And got caught red-handed!” Dead silence. Everyone held their breath. “Nina, get out here!” Blood instantly rushed to the top of my head, then drained completely the next second. “I didn’t…” My voice trembled. “You didn’t?!” Mom sharply interrupted, stepping forward, her shadow looming over me. Just then, came the slight sound of a chair moving from the front row. Wendy stood up. She lowered her head slightly, fingers anxiously twisting the hem of her clothes, cheeks flushed with difficult red. She first looked timidly at the furious Mom, then quickly glanced at me, her eyes incredibly complex—seemingly reluctant, yet resigned. “Ms. Sterling…” Her voice was thin and trembling. “Wendy, tell me. What do you know? Don’t be afraid, just tell the truth.” Wendy seemed encouraged yet more troubled. She bit her lip, finally raising her watery eyes: “Last Friday after school, I saw Nina and that boy from Class 7 kissing behind the school’s back gate…” Instantly, I felt the surrounding air sucked out, cold suffocation gripping my throat. “You’re lying! Wendy, you’re making false accusations!” I jumped up, trembling all over with anger and injustice. “I don’t even know—” “NINA!!” A roar exploded like thunder over my head. Mom had already stepped in front of me, raising her hand and delivering a full-force slap to my already swollen right cheek.

The world instantly flipped, roaring. Intense pain exploded, spreading from my cheek through my entire skull in an instant. My vision went black. Warm liquid gushed from both my nose and mouth. The sweet metallic taste of rust filled my mouth. “How dare you talk back?! How dare you lie?!” Mom’s voice became shrill and distorted. She grabbed my bangs forcefully, dragging me toward the podium like a dead dog, stumbling and lurching. Tearing pain came from my scalp, but I couldn’t feel it anymore—only the burning sensation on my face and the overwhelming humiliation. “Everyone look closely!” She slammed me hard against the solid edge of the podium. My waist hit it, the pain making me groan as I curled up. She yanked my hair, forcing me to expose my blood-covered, rapidly swelling face to the entire class. “Look at this face! This is what happens when you break school rules!” “I didn’t… Mom… I really didn’t…” Tears mixed with blood covering my face, I even forgot to call her “teacher” in my desperate state. I struggled futilely, crying out, my voice broken beyond recognition. Through blurred vision, I saw countless frightened and curious eyes below. Wendy stood at her seat, lips slightly curved, eyes full of satisfaction, piercing through my heart like madness. “Didn’t? The witness is right here and you still dare say you didn’t?!” She suddenly grabbed my arm: “Come out! Get to the hallway! Let everyone see what happens to those who don’t follow rules and have filthy thoughts!” I was half-dragged, half-pulled out of the classroom. Then her hands reached for my school uniform jacket zipper. “No… don’t! Mom! Please don’t do this! I was wrong, I really know I was wrong!” Unprecedented terror seized me instantly. I broke into piercing screams, struggling with all my strength, both hands desperately protecting my chest, fingernails digging deep into the fabric of my uniform. “Now you know you were wrong? Too late!” Her voice was utterly cold: “Today I’m going to make you remember! Everyone will watch too—this is what happens when you date!” “Riiip—” The cheap school uniform zipper burst open under brute force. Buttons were torn off, flying away. The fabric was roughly ripped open. A large expanse of shoulder and collarbone was suddenly exposed to the cold air and prying eyes. “Ahhh!!” I screamed in complete breakdown, desperately curling my body, futilely trying to cover myself with the torn fabric and trembling arms. Cold, so cold. Every pore was screaming with cold. But even colder than the temperature was that inescapable, stripped-naked-for-display humiliation. At the end of the hallway, students from other classes had already come to investigate the noise, peering from a distance, pointing and whispering. But Mom stood like a victorious general. She panted, looking at me—curled up in the corner, clothes in disarray, face covered in blood, shaking like a leaf in the wind—full of authority and satisfaction. “Kneel here and reflect! Don’t you dare stand up without my permission!”

Mom didn’t look at me again. She smoothed her hair, which had become slightly disheveled from the violence, straightened the wrinkles on her clothes, and restored the solemn expression belonging to “Ms. Sterling” to her face. She turned and walked toward the dean’s office. I shook like a sieve, my heart aching as if being tortured by a thousand cuts. I didn’t understand why I had to endure all this. Why my dignity was just a tool for establishing authority. I don’t know how much time passed. Maybe just a few minutes, maybe a century. My left arm could still move. Slowly, extremely slowly, I raised my trembling hand and reached into my school pants pocket. My little notebook. I used every bit of strength remaining in my body to write with trembling hand: “Falsely accused of dating, publicly stripped and humiliated. Deduct 1 point from Mom.” Closing the notebook, I leaned against the wall, bit by bit, supporting my body that no longer seemed to belong to me. My knees hurt so much, my face hurt, the exposed skin stung from the wind. But my head felt light and floating. Like breaking free from some incredibly heavy shackles embedded in flesh and blood. I struggled to sit on the hallway window ledge. Before me was the sun-drenched green lawn and field. I could faintly hear the happy voices and laughter of students. So nice. I thought, gasping. The next second, my hand gripping the window frame released. My body leaned forward, out the window. The wind instantly became violent, roaring as it filled my ears. The sensation of weightlessness enveloped my entire body. Mom. I’m using death to help you establish authority. Is it enough? The door to the dean’s office was slightly ajar. From inside came Mom’s apologetic voice: “I’m so sorry, Dean. I haven’t educated Nina properly. Don’t worry, this time I’ll definitely punish her severely, teach her a lesson, and set an example for the other students!” Dean frowned, looking at the pair of male and female students hanging their heads before him, puzzled: “What Nina? The students who were dating aren’t from your class.” The smile on Mom’s face froze, but she quickly recovered, awkwardly waving her hand: “Oh, it’s not Nina? Never mind, never mind. It’s all the same. Since we caught a dating case, we need to make an example. Nina can serve as a warning to all students.” Dean’s frown deepened. Nearly fifty years old, he’d seen all kinds of teachers, but this was the first time seeing one like Ms. Sterling who, knowing she’d gotten the wrong person, still insisted on using her own daughter as a scapegoat to establish authority. “Ms. Sterling, this isn’t appropriate. These two students made the mistake and should be handled accordingly. If Nina didn’t do anything wrong, how can we punish her unjustly? That’s not fair to the child.” At these words, Mom’s expression soured, but she quickly put on that “everything’s for work” serious face: “Dean, Nina is my daughter. If I punish her, the students will be more afraid, will know I’m impartial. Nina will understand my good intentions.” When she said this, her tone was certain, her eyes even carrying a trace of “sacrificing the small for the greater good” self-satisfaction. Dean wanted to say something more when the office door was suddenly slammed open with a “bang.” A female student, face bloodless, voice carrying a sob and trembling disbelief: “Ms. Sterling! Something terrible happened! Nina… she jumped from the building!”

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On our wedding night, Julian Brown suddenly confessed a secret to me: “I was afraid of hurting you during our first time, so I… found another woman to practice with.” I froze under the covers, my blood running cold instantly. My throat tightened, and I could barely manage: “And?” He didn’t have time to answer before his phone vibrated. Julian answered it right in front of me. The voice on the other end was dripping with fake sweetness. “If you don’t come over, I’m really going to jump.” His face changed. He hung up and started to leave. I lunged and stopped him: “Julian, have you forgotten who your bride is?” He impatiently smoothed down the buttons on his shirt. “I can’t help it. She’s incredibly clingy. She cried all day when she found out I was getting married.” “You’re tired from the wedding today. I’ll just go get a marriage certificate with her, soothe her a bit, and I’ll be right back.” I just laughed, a bitter laugh. “So, you’re having the wedding ceremony with me, and getting legally married to her?” Seeing my face crumbling, he paused for a second. Then, patiently, he sat down and hugged me. “Silly girl, a marriage certificate is just a piece of paper. A sacred ceremony like this wedding, of course, I’d only ever give to you. She’s just a fling.” After he left, I stared blankly at the ceiling, then dialed my family. “Dad, call off the marriage. Julian doesn’t deserve me.”

The next morning, Julian seemed surprised to see me at City Hall. He tucked away the glaring marriage certificate and pulled me aside. “Why do you look so haggard? Didn’t you rest well last night? I told you to wait for me at home, didn’t I?” He covered my hand with his, then brought it to his lips and blew on it gently. He spoke to me in the same gentle tone he always did. As if I were the one he’d just gotten married to. I pulled my hand away and smiled. “I couldn’t wait, so I came early.” He looked a little surprised, thinking I was there to confront him. After a moment, he put his arm around my waist and said remorsefully: “Last night she was threatening to kill herself, I had no choice. I really dealt with her, that’s why I didn’t answer your calls. I’m sorry I made you worry, babe.” Hearing him call me “babe” over and over made me feel utterly ridiculous. He once risked his life, going deep into the wilderness alone to save me, almost losing a leg to a bear attack. Now, he could shamelessly mess around with someone else and then casually tell me about it like it was nothing. Dealt with her? His “dealing with her” meant spending a sleepless night battling with that woman, from the bedroom to the living room. I suppressed the twisting pain in my heart and suddenly smiled. I looked up at him and asked, “Julian, did you ever…” …ever intend to marry me? But before I could finish, Chloe, the woman he’d just married, walked out of the restroom. She hurried over, leaned on Julian’s shoulder, and extended a hand towards me, feigning curiosity. “Hi, I’m Julian’s wife. And you are?” “His ex-girlfriend.” “My wife.” Julian and I answered at the same time. Chloe pouted and glared at him. She held up the marriage certificate. “Say that again, who’s your wife?” Julian looked a little embarrassed. He lit a cigarette, laughing along with her. “Alright, alright, for these three months, you’re my wife, okay?” Watching them flirt openly right in front of me, all the questions I’d pondered last night suddenly became irrelevant. Whether I was in his heart didn’t matter, whether he loved me didn’t matter. What mattered was that he was now someone else’s husband. The strategic alliance between our two powerful families involved too many interests. My father wouldn’t agree to break the engagement without solid evidence. But if Julian was already a married man, that changed everything. So, I pulled out my phone, ready to capture proof of their relationship. But Julian snatched my phone away. He pulled me aside, lowering his voice. “Skylar, what are you doing! I told you, getting the certificate with her was just to appease her. Once she calms down, I’ll divorce her in a few days.” His tone was so righteous, it was as if I was the one in the wrong.

Chloe opened the car door and called out in a sugary voice, “Honey~” Julian seemed to remember something then, giving me a look of guilt. “Um, I’m afraid she might get upset again, so I’m letting her stay in our marital home for a few days.” He said, taking off the wedding ring engraved with my name and pressing it into my hand. “Keep the ring for now, so I don’t accidentally upset her. She’s fragile right now, you need to cut her some slack.” I looked up at him, my eyes red, and let out a cynical laugh. “Julian, what makes you think I’d ‘cut her slack’? And what makes you think I’d ever stay with you?” His face instantly darkened. He gripped my wrist, a warning in his voice. “Skylar, the alliance between our families isn’t something you get to decide. I think you understand that clearly.” He was right. The alliance involved a multi-billion dollar project. This was Julian’s way of thinking he could control me. He gave me the most envied wedding in the city, announcing to the world that I was the wife he loved most in this life. But his real wife wasn’t me. I pulled my hand free and slapped him hard. “But you married someone else. You broke the contract between our families first.” He wiped away the blood from his lip, a cold smirk on his face, but he didn’t get angry. “Getting bold, Skylar? That’s the first time you’ve ever hit me.” Seeing my face remain stone cold, he sighed helplessly. “Fine, yes, I admit I was in the wrong first. But we can’t force a living girl to her death over this, can we? If I didn’t marry her, she threatened to jump. What was I supposed to do?” He reached up and wiped away the tears I couldn’t hold back. He stepped forward and hugged me, then softened his voice, nuzzling my neck. “Just give me three more months, Skylar. Let me handle this. After everything we’ve been through, don’t leave me. Just stay by my side, and be my wife, okay?” He always looked at me with those deeply affectionate eyes. It seemed Julian hadn’t forgotten our unforgettable past. That time he risked his life escaping a bear attack to save me, his leg was so badly bitten the bones were exposed. Yet he endured the pain, smiling as he wiped away my tears. “Why are you crying? Afraid no one will want you if I die?” Back then, Julian was a bit reckless, but he always put himself in danger for me without a second thought. So many close calls, even now, thinking back sends shivers down my spine. Julian loved me enough to risk his life, but he was tainted. That was an undeniable fact! “No!” I pushed him away, the sickness like I’d swallowed a fly churning in my stomach. I glared at him fiercely. “Don’t touch me, Julian. Either you divorce her right now, or we’re completely over! As for the board’s losses, our families will each bear their own.” “You!” He frowned in anger, then pulled out his phone from his pocket, his voice chillingly cold, a tone I’d never heard from him before: “Skylar, don’t regret this. Our first time last night was too precious, so I recorded it. You don’t want your naked body watched by thousands of online strangers, do you?” I gasped, sucking in a cold breath. “What did you say?”

Julian still brought her home. The first thing she did upon entering was throw away the couple’s slippers Julian and I shared, then picked up my pajamas, ready for a bath. Chloe walked over, clinging to him like a lost bird, pulling at the hem of Julian’s jacket on the sofa. “Our bathroom is too big, I… I’m scared alone.” Julian swallowed, glancing subtly at me. Seeing my expressionless face, he pulled his hand away and shot a look at the housekeeper, who was standing nearby. “You ladies go with her for her bath.” Then he sat up straighter, adding almost instinctively, “Oh, and remember to change the bath salts to rose-scented ones.” The two housekeepers exchanged glances, looking troubled. I knew they wanted to remind him that I was severely allergic to rose scent. That’s why there was no rose-scented bath gel in the house at all. Chloe pouted, then grabbed his tie and angrily sat on his lap. Seeing his face darken slightly, she quickly cooed an explanation: “Just bath salts aren’t enough, you know I have to have fresh rose petals for my bath!” Watching them flirt so openly in front of me, even the housekeepers couldn’t stand it. One of them cleared her throat loudly. “Excuse me, but we don’t have fresh roses. Our mistress, Skylar, dislikes the scent of roses.” Chloe froze for half a second, then threw herself onto Julian, starting to cry. “Julian, your housekeeper is bullying me!” Seeing them still standing there, Julian snapped, “What are you waiting for? If we don’t have them, then send someone out to buy them! Go quickly!” “But…” The housekeeper hesitated, about to say more, but then I shook my head, and she stifled her anger, sending someone to buy them. Chloe stopped crying, sat up, and chuckled, covering her mouth. “Julian, why are your ears so red? Last night you worked me so hard I could barely get out of bed, how come… you still want more?” Julian’s breathing deepened. He quickly cleared his throat and moved her hand away from him. “Go to the bathroom now, the roses will be delivered soon.” Chloe then glanced triumphantly at me, swaying her hips as she walked towards the bathroom. Julian sighed in relief, immediately stood up, and pulled me closer. “I was just putting on a show for her, to appease her. Don’t overthink it, my love.” I pulled my hand away. “Don’t call me ‘my love.’ It disgusts me. And, I’m just here to pack my things.” Hearing I was leaving, Julian’s face instantly hardened, his lips pressed into a tight, thin line. “Pack your things? Where are you going? If the reporters catch you moving out right after our wedding, how will you explain it to the board?” I couldn’t be bothered with him and turned to go upstairs. Julian took a big step forward and grabbed my wrist, his voice low and laced with a warning. “If you dare step out of this villa today, tomorrow I’ll make sure those videos appear on the front pages of every major media outlet.” Looking at this face that suddenly felt utterly alien to me, my voice trembled. “Julian, I never knew you could be so despicable!” Suddenly, a piercing scream, “Ah!” came from the bathroom.

“What’s wrong?” Julian finally let go of my hand, a hint of panic in his expression, and strode towards the bathroom. Not long after, I heard Chloe’s mischievous, triumphant laughter. “The water’s so nice, Julian, why are you here? Want to join me?” “Chloe, you tricked me?” He deliberately deepened his voice, but it was laced with an undeniable tenderness. The moment I heard his voice, my body went rigid, as if something inside me was slowly being torn away. I knew that tone too well. Because when Julian loved me most, even though he’d say things like, “Why are you such a handful?” his eyes would sparkle with an unmistakable, hidden smile. Not only was his body tainted, but his heart was too. I had to face the reality: Julian was in love with someone else. I raised a hand to wipe the tears from my face, then turned away from the bathroom and walked to the sofa. From the suit jacket Julian had taken off earlier, I took out two phones. I found it somewhat ironic that his password was still my birthday. His phone was full of my pictures. Each captioned with a date, and a sweet memory. Tears streamed uncontrollably down my face as I scrolled through picture after picture with trembling hands. Until I saw the video he’d used to threaten me. Our wedding night video. Later, after I’d fallen asleep, he had carefully caressed my cheek, murmuring to himself. “Skylar, do you know how long I’ve waited for this day?” “But sometimes she’s so much like the old you, that I just couldn’t help but make a mistake. I know you can’t tolerate betrayal, but when you wake up, I’ll apologize first. You’ll forgive me, right?” He held my hand and rubbed it against his face. His reason for “repentance” was so laughable! He couldn’t control himself, yet he had to use such a flimsy excuse to justify his actions. I composed myself, clicked “delete permanently,” erasing all photos and all videos. Then I changed his password to his own birthday. To prevent any backups, I put the phone back, then went to the upstairs study. I deleted everything related to me there too! As for those glaring wedding photos, I waved my hand and told the housekeeper to have them all taken out and thrown away. “Was this Mr. Julian’s instruction? Did he already tell you that to avoid upsetting Chloe, nothing intimate between us should be left in the house?” The housekeeper hesitated, then nodded reluctantly, immediately instructing someone to take the photos. I reminded him, “Don’t listen to Julian about putting them in storage. Throw them out directly. What if Chloe gets a whim to go to the storage room one day, she might get upset and slit her wrists in there.” “Oh dear!” The housekeeper had no choice but to have all the photos thrown away. I finished packing my luggage and called my family’s driver. “George, please bring the car around and take me to the airport.” Just as I reached the stairwell, Julian, wearing a bathrobe, walked over. Seeing me with my suitcase, his deep eyes filled with fury. “Skylar, why aren’t you listening? Where are you going?” I met his gaze, unyielding, and walked down the stairs step by step. “We’re over, Julian. My affairs are none of your business.” Seeing that I was determined to leave, he smiled, walked to the sofa, and picked up his phone. “Fine. If you walk out that door today, I won’t mind sharing the video of you clinging to me, with thousands of online strangers!” I raised an eyebrow, letting out an indifferent, cold laugh. “Julian, that’s all you’ve got.” With that, ignoring his ashen face, I continued towards the door. He was furious, typing in the password wrong several times. Just then, Chloe, also wrapped in a bathrobe, slowly walked over. “What’s wrong, Julian?” But he pushed her away sharply. “Get lost!” Then he eagerly rushed after me. “Skylar, you changed my phone password?” “But what if I did? The password can be recovered quickly.” He suddenly remembered something and smiled coldly. “Even if you deleted it, what then? Skylar, you know how much I love you. How could I not have backups? So don’t try my patience. Stay by my side obediently!” I took his phone, typed in his birthday right in front of him, and handed it back. “I didn’t delete the video, see… it’s all there!” He snatched it back, glanced at it casually, not clearly seeing it. Just then, Chloe, full of anger, walked over and snatched it from him. “Why are you wasting words with her, Julian? If she wants to leave, I’ll post it for you!” Saying that, she eagerly tapped on a random video and uploaded it online.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “357210”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster #浪漫Romance #现实主义Realistic #重生Reborn #校园School