Author: Momo Chan

I worked my butt off for this project proposal, and my boyfriend just handed it over to the new girl. Oppressed, suppressed—and I’ve become nothing but the stepping stone for their romance. If a tiger doesn’t roar, you really think I’m some cuddly little kitten? Anger level: 1000%. Fury level: 10,000%. Crazy level: Off the charts. Time to bring the pain. If we’re playing this game, I’m blowing everyone up. After a full month of overtime, my dark circles were worse than a raccoon’s, but I finally finished the project. I was ready to get promoted and maybe even a nice bonus. Ryan Mitchell, my boss-slash-boyfriend, called me into his office. “Claire, you’ve been doing great. Keep up the good work.” I nodded eagerly, waiting for the good part. …Nothing. I waited a little longer. Still nothing. “Is that it?” He blinked, as if remembering something. “Oh, right! I almost forgot the main thing.” I knew it. Verbal praise alone wasn’t enough. “These are the new project files. I want you to take charge and try to wrap it up in a month.” I looked at the stack of papers—at least six inches high—and felt sick to my stomach. “Weren’t you going to promote me after this project?” Ryan walked over, patted my shoulder, and gave me that condescending smile. “Claire, you’re still young, there will be lots of opportunities. This is just a small supervisor role. Knock out a few more projects, and I’ll personally push for your promotion to manager.” I wasn’t buying it. “So… who’s getting the promotion this time?” “Emma Johnson.” Emma? The new girl who’d only been here for six months? “Ryan, are you serious? You’re promoting her over me? Have you lost your mind?” He knew better than anyone how hard I’d worked for this promotion. Forget weekends—I practically split my day into eight parts to get everything done. “Ryan, you’d better give me an explanation, or this won’t end well for anyone.” Ryan’s face darkened. “Claire, this is work. I’m your boss. Just do as I say.” Then he softened his tone, trying to pacify me. “Claire, I’m your boyfriend. Would I ever harm you? I fought hard to get this project for you, and there’s plenty of credit to go around. Trust me, it’ll pay off. Be good.” I’d heard this spiel too many times. “Stop feeding me lies. I’m cutting carbs.” When I returned to my desk with the files, Emma was already soaking up the congratulations from the team. The moment she saw me, she rushed over to give me a hug. “Oh, Claire, I’m so sorry! I don’t know why the boss chose me. We all thought it would be you. You’re not mad, right?” “I’ll ask Ryan. Maybe there’s been a mistake.” I pushed her off with a fake smile. “Oh, please, don’t wait. Go ask him now.” Emma’s face changed, and she lowered her head, saying nothing. Not long after, she posted in our Slack channel, inviting everyone to dinner. And, just like that, the group chat lit up with congratulations. It was sickening. “Claire, you’re coming, right? Your support would mean the world to me. After all, if it weren’t for your help, I wouldn’t have gotten this opportunity.” “They say you’re clueless, can’t get anything right. But clearly, you’ve gotten pretty smart. At least you know you don’t deserve it.” “Emma, weren’t you going to ask the boss? What’s the hold-up? Turns out thanking me was just lip service.” I added a fake pout to my voice for good measure. Emma stood there, speechless, her face stiff with embarrassment. She’s been playing the sweet girl act for so long, she probably thought it worked on everyone. Predictable.

That night, Emma took the whole department out to dinner at The Capital Grille, where it’s $500 per head. She really went all out. Everyone was happy with the free food—except me, of course. “Claire, it’s over. Stop acting like the world owes you something.” I shot Ryan a glare. “There’s something wrong with my paycheck. I didn’t get my project bonus.” Ryan avoided eye contact, which sent a wave of unease through me. I grabbed his arm. “Where’s my $30k project bonus?” Ryan finally muttered, “The project’s Emma’s now, so the bonus goes to her.” No wonder she was feeling generous tonight. Fine, I could live without the promotion. No bonus? Okay, I’d even swallow that. But no promotion and no bonus? Hell no! Ryan, sensing my growing fury, leaned down and whispered in my ear, “Keep your cool. We’ll talk about this later.” I picked up my glass of red wine and tossed it in his face. “Keep your cool? Screw that. And screw you.” The room fell dead silent. All eyes were on us. Ryan gritted his teeth but forced a laugh. “Haha, no big deal, everyone. Claire just slipped. Enjoy your dinner.” Emma was quick to grab some napkins, rushing to dab the wine off Ryan’s face. “Claire, come on! You’re a grown woman. How are you still this clumsy?” I used to feel sorry for her—fresh out of school, baby-faced, always speaking so softly. I’d go out of my way to look after her. Turns out, I looked after her too well. She even took my boyfriend. With how cozy they were, no one would believe there wasn’t something going on between them. After Emma finished cleaning up Ryan, she turned to say something to me, but I beat her to it. “Don’t yell at me. I’ve been scared of dogs since I was little.” Ryan slammed his hand on the table and stood up, pointing at me. “Claire, enough! We’re here to celebrate Emma’s promotion. Don’t ruin this for everyone because of your attitude.” Amazing. Helping the other woman yell at his girlfriend. What a guy. They took my promotion, my bonus, and I was expected to sit there, swallowing my pride and toasting the people who robbed me. I’ve got feelings, too. And tonight, no one’s getting off easy. Especially Ryan and Emma. I swatted Ryan’s hand away. “Your happiness is none of my business.” Then I turned to Emma. “Don’t act like you earned this with skill. Whatever shady tricks you used to get it, just stay quiet and keep your head down. It’s disgusting.” Emma’s face turned red as she stammered. “Claire, I understand you’re upset about not getting the promotion, but you’ve misunderstood. I don’t blame you.” Then, as expected, the tears started falling. The classic “poor me” look. The men at the table immediately started defending her. “Claire, you’re out of line. Emma’s been nothing but great. The company must have had a good reason for promoting her.” Emma knew exactly how to play them. The guys ate up her “sweet girl” act, calling her “little sis” and everything. “Oh yeah, you’re so generous. Maybe next time you’ll give her credit for the projects you complete. Last month, you got a $20k bonus, right? Transfer it. Let me learn a thing or two about generosity.” I stood up on my chair, towering over him, holding his phone out. He stood there, frozen, not saying a word. “What did you drink tonight? Windshield fluid? Stop with the cold takes. Use your brain before opening your mouth.” I turned to another male coworker who had been running his mouth. “I get that you’re straightforward, but that doesn’t mean you should talk out of your ass.” Ryan tried to step in, using his “boss” voice. “Claire, I’m ordering you to apologize to Emma. Now.” I’d been too busy with deadlines to put Ryan in his place lately. “I’m not a customer service rep, Ryan. I don’t apologize for things that aren’t my fault.” At that, Emma’s tears came down harder. She sobbed out, “I’m sorry, Claire… I didn’t mean to upset anyone… It’s all my fault.” I couldn’t help but poke at her more. “Exactly. It’s all your fault.” “If you don’t want to eat, Claire, you can leave,” Ryan said. Who said I wasn’t eating? The food’s free, so why not? I called over the waiter and ordered more dishes. The way he glanced at us told me he knew something was up. After all, at this table, we had people with clenched jaws, others hiding tears, and me with a grin I couldn’t suppress. I’d pissed off so many people at this dinner. Sorry, not sorry. I’ll do it again next time. You know, I might not make everyone happy, but I can definitely make sure everyone is equally pissed off.

After blowing up at the dinner, I felt amazing. That night, I slept like a baby. The next morning, I even took the time to put on some makeup before heading into work. I’d barely sat down when Ryan called me into his office. “Why didn’t you pick up my calls last night?” I flopped onto his couch lazily. “I don’t like hearing dogs bark.” “Claire, you’re really going to make such a big deal out of this?” A big deal?! This man was still calling it a “small thing”? And to think, this guy was my boyfriend. My mistake, clearly. I stood up, walked right up to Ryan, and slapped him across the face. His shock barely registered before I yanked his hair down, forcing him to bend over in pain. I took the opportunity to kick him in the stomach. “A small thing? I’ve been busting my ass working overtime every day, not for money, but what, to earn some good karma? You handed my bonus to some other woman, and you have the nerve to call it a small thing?” I let go of him, but not before giving him one last kick to the gut. Ryan winced, fury in his eyes. “Claire, we’re done.” “Oh, don’t get it twisted,” I sneered. “I’m dumping you. You and Emma have been screwing each other behind my back, haven’t you? You two deserve each other—garbage belongs with garbage. Moonlighting as a cupid now, huh?” Ryan straightened himself, dusting off his shirt, trying to keep his cool. “I’ve been done with you for a long time. You’re all work, no femininity. All you care about is the job.” “Please, Ryan. You’re a bottom-feeder who thinks he’s a king just because he’s splashing around in some shallow water. Do you think you’re worthy of calling me out?” I rolled up my sleeves. Today, I wasn’t just talking. “Ryan, you’ve always been a punching bag. I’m just here to finish the job.” We started brawling right there in the office. Sure, he had the upper hand physically, but I had claws—long nails and a sharp bite—and I wasn’t afraid to use them. I clawed at his face, pulled his hair, even bit him when I had the chance. It was a full-on spectacle, and soon enough, the noise had attracted our coworkers. Emma was the first to burst in. She gasped when she saw the scratches and blood on Ryan’s face and neck. She rushed to stand between us, arms spread wide like a human shield. “Claire, if you’re angry, take it out on me. Don’t hurt Ryan, he’s just following the rules!” She was so noble, wasn’t she? Well, if she wanted the heat, fine. I was ready to take it out on her. But before I could lay into Emma, a close coworker of mine pulled me aside. “Claire, you’ve already hit him and said what you needed to say. If you keep going, you’re the one who’s going to get hurt in the end. You can see Ryan’s just setting everything up for his new girl.” I glared at her, confused. I had thought Ryan and I had kept our relationship on the down-low. How could she know about this? “Oh, everyone knows,” she said with a knowing sigh. “But the way he’s setting things up for Emma? It’s so obvious he’s paving the way for her.” “When did you find out about the two of them?” I asked, my confusion turning to curiosity. She looked at me like I was an idiot. “They’ve been flaunting it all over Instagram Stories for the past month! Don’t tell me you didn’t know.” Well. That was nice to hear. I, the official girlfriend, had found out just yesterday. Right now, I felt like I could morph into King Kong and slap the hell out of both of them.

A coworker and I opened Instagram on our phones, pulling up Emma’s profile. On my screen, I only saw two posts. One from last month with a caption about working late, and one from yesterday—an announcement of her promotion, with a thank you to the company and her colleagues. But on my coworker’s screen, there were at least a dozen posts. Caption: Someone told me we should eat somewhere romantic. Photo: A dimly lit French restaurant, looking all too fancy. The date? I had been stuck in the office finishing a proposal that night. I’d even suggested that place to Ryan once, but he said it was overpriced and not worth it. Instead, we’d ended up eating cheap hotpot from a place down the street. Caption: Collecting every little spark of happiness. Photo: Emma and Ryan at an art gallery, doing a heart gesture with their hands. It was just his hand in the photo, but that watch on his wrist? I’d bought it for him. And the date? I’d been at the office revising that very same proposal, the one Ryan said wasn’t good enough yet. Caption: I saw it and he bought it for me immediately. Photo: The newest iPhone, iPhone 14 Pro Max, 1TB, in Sierra Blue. And the date? The day after I’d given that exact phone to Ryan. He had hinted that his old phone was broken but said he couldn’t afford a new one. Being the good girlfriend I was, I used my hard-earned paycheck to buy him the best. I’d noticed later that he wasn’t using it. When I asked, he said it had been stolen, and he felt terrible about it. I’d even planned to buy him a replacement with my next bonus. Twenty-five years of life, and only now am I realizing how low my IQ must be. Ladies, listen up: spending money on a man is a surefire way to curse yourself for eight generations. As I scrolled through the posts, my fists clenched so hard I thought they might break. At that moment, I wished I could sprout eight arms like an octopus and slap both Ryan and Emma in one go. Just as I was imagining it, Emma returned to her desk. Our eyes met, and she gave me a look as if she were the one wronged. I used to think she was cute, but now, she looked like a rotten grape—full of toxic juice. And that shiny iPhone sitting on her desk? The one I bought with my own money? My. Damn. Money. That’s it. I’m done.

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My wife and her young lover had too much fun at the hotel and accidentally lost our child. Afterward, she claimed to have been bewitched and begged for my forgiveness. I suppressed my hatred, pretended to agree, and secretly devised a plan for revenge. Not long after, my wife smiled at me and said, “Honey, I’m pregnant again! Aren’t you happy?” I nodded, forcing a smile that felt more like a grimace, my body trembling uncontrollably. Because, unbeknownst to her, I had quietly undergone a vasectomy right after she had the miscarriage. “David, say something!” My wife, Samantha Williams, sat beside me, shaking my shoulder vigorously. I stared blankly at the report on the table. It showed that she was indeed pregnant. “Honey, I couldn’t keep our last child, and I feel so guilty. But look, the heavens have blessed us with another chance…” She sweetly wrapped her arms around my neck and kissed my cheek. “Let’s cherish this life together from now on.” When I didn’t respond, she placed my hand on her slightly rounded belly. “Feel it? It’s our baby.” Samantha’s words echoed in my ears, but all I could hear was a deafening roar. My temples throbbed, anger surging through me—I wanted nothing more than to throw her out of the house right then and there. Because, even before she lost the baby, I had already taken the step to prevent her from bearing another man’s child and forcing me into the role of a father. I knew that cheating happens either once or infinitely. Sure enough, my intuition was spot on. I didn’t plan to confront Samantha; instead, I aimed to find that young lover and make them both pay. I drifted back to that fateful day. I had just finished work when I received a call from the hospital. Rushing to the hospital, I found Samantha crying out in pain. She lay on the bed, looking utterly drained. The nurse stifled a laugh, while my friends nearby teased me. “David, have you been that wild? That young lover must have really done a number on her!” My temper flared, and I felt my face flush with humiliation. Just as I was about to leave, Samantha grabbed my hand, weakly apologizing and confessing. “Honey, it was the other person who seduced me. I was just momentarily lost and made a terrible mistake.” “Please, forgive me. I promise we can have more children.” Hearing her words felt like a deep insult. No man wants to wear a metaphorical green hat and continue living in such a farce. I had always treated her well, coming from a poor background; I did everything I could to help her. During holidays, I showered her with precious gifts just to see her smile. Even in arguments, I was the one who would back down and apologize. Everyone said I was her lapdog, humbled to the core. But I didn’t care; I just wanted to build a life together with her. I never expected her to betray me like this. After much thought, I made my decision. I wanted a divorce and for her to leave with nothing, facing the consequences of her actions. At the same time, I wanted to find that young lover and ruin him. To avoid exposing my plan, I pretended to forgive Samantha. From that day forward, she changed her attitude and was exceptionally nice to me. She even insisted on doing my laundry.

After Samantha got pregnant, her requests for money increased. She claimed she wanted to eat better for the baby. Was she expecting me to support her little bastard? Her words enraged me to the point of shaking. But I swallowed my anger for the sake of my ultimate plan. I loosened my fists and said to Samantha as she prepared to leave, “Be back early, okay? Don’t tire yourself out shopping with your girlfriends, and take care of our baby.” A flicker of guilt crossed her face as she nodded and smiled. But the way she was dressed up didn’t seem like she was going to meet friends. Suspicion gnawed at me, so I followed her down the stairs. To my shock, she got into a car with a young guy who looked no older than twenty. As the guy rolled down the window, I caught them kissing passionately. They looked so intimate… My teeth ground together; I wanted to send them both to hell. From his attire and demeanor, I was certain he was a college student. And judging by his car, he wasn’t some rich kid. I suddenly recalled how frequently Samantha had been asking me for money lately. After thinking it through, it became clear—she was using my money to support a young gigolo. How ridiculous! I had to take action. When I got home, I sent the photo of the guy to my friends. After some investigation, I learned he was not just a player; he was a scam artist and a notorious womanizer. He had deceived many girls into bed, recording videos and threatening them—if they didn’t pay up, he would release those videos online. What a despicable person! Why hadn’t he gone to hell yet? I typed furiously to my friends. “Let’s make sure he gets caught up in gambling!” They responded, “Consider it done!” After sending the message, I fell into a deep sleep. In my dreams, I saw Samantha in a white dress, smiling at me, but soon enough, multiple men appeared around her, reaching out their hands to touch her. I wanted to intervene, but she screamed at me. “David, you’re such a clown.” “How does it feel to wear the green hat?” I woke up in a rage, ready to get a drink when Samantha returned. She reeked of perfume mixed with cigarette smoke, holding a bouquet of flowers. She carefully placed the flowers in a vase, completely oblivious to my glaring eyes. “I’m going to shower, honey.” “Be careful, don’t slip,” I replied nonchalantly. After she tossed her bag on the sofa and headed into the bathroom, I rummaged through her bag. Every item inside shocked me. First, there was a set of torn lingerie. Then I saw some… toys. Wow, she was quite the player! In front of everyone, the pure and lovely Samantha had this whole other side. I remembered how she had never been very proactive in bed—unless I begged her, she wouldn’t let me touch her. I thought she was just a modest, reserved person. Yet now, she transformed into a maid to please other men. My anger boiled over when I noticed her phone screen light up. Someone had sent her a message. Unlocking it, I clicked into her WeChat. At the top was a guy’s profile labeled “Baby.” Preparing myself for what I might see, I opened the conversation. “How was it this time? Did I do well enough? Should I ask for more compensation? I worked hard…” “Am I better than that useless husband of yours?” “Honestly, your husband is such an idiot.” I was taken aback, my brow furrowing. Could it be that things were more complicated than I had thought? I scrolled further. “I hope you don’t blame me for the last time causing your miscarriage…” Damn, I had been kept in the dark. This was the guy who had caused her miscarriage. Reading those messages made me question whether the child she lost before had ever been mine. When I flipped to the next page of chat history, I couldn’t sit still. “Now that we’re having this child, you need to take care of it.” “Don’t let it turn out like last time…” Sure enough, neither of those kids were mine! Next, I read Samantha’s reply. “Oh, you’re so annoying. My husband is actually a decent guy, just a bit slow…” “Stupid sister, if you weren’t slow, how could we be together?” The chat abruptly ended there. My eyes burned with rage as I trembled, clicking on the guy’s social media profile. He posted pictures flaunting expensive clothes, shoes, and watches. The caption read, “Thanks, sis! You’re so generous!” In that moment, I wanted to smash my phone. All those years of hard work went to supporting her young lover! My parents even bought her jewelry and skincare products every month, spending so much on her…

After transferring thousands of messages to my phone, I stuffed Samantha’s things into a bag. She emerged from the bathroom wrapped in a towel, nervously touching her neck. “What’s wrong? Did you hurt yourself?” I asked, my patience wearing thin. She glanced away, mumbling, “Oh, it’s nothing, just some mosquito bites…” Seeing the red marks on her neck made my teeth grind. Samantha noticed my growing anger and rushed to embrace me. “Honey, I’m so tired from shopping today.” “You don’t care about my feelings at all!” Care? I suppressed my rage, forcing a smile. “Of course, I care! Your husband loves you!” That night, I received a message from a friend. He told me the young lover was a student my sister had once supported. Ryan came from a poor family; his father worked tirelessly just to send him to college. Little did his father know, Ryan had squandered his hard-earned money on women and drinking. What a scoundrel! Before I could respond, my friend added, “Ryan had a fling with your sister…” What? So my sister nearly killed herself over this guy? Before I could ponder further, my friend revealed, “That scumbag filmed your sister in private…” At that moment, I was livid. Clutching my chest, I struggled to breathe. I clenched my fists, determined to destroy Ryan. My precious sister, whom I had adored for eighteen years, had been ruined by this worthless bastard. How dare he! I immediately told my friend, “No matter the cost, I’ll make Ryan pay and ruin him.” The next day, at the crack of dawn, I drove to my sister’s house. She seemed despondent, uninterested in anything, keeping her feelings bottled up. I bought her beautiful clothes and treated her to a nice dinner. Finally, she opened up in my arms. Ever since Ryan filmed her, she had been giving him a thousand dollars a month as hush money. As she spoke, her pain deepened, tears streaming down her cheeks, her eyes red like a rabbit’s. As her brother, I felt an immense guilt. That night, I arranged for Ryan to be ambushed in an alley. They threw a black bag over his head and silenced him with a sock. I was the first to strike, and my friends joined in. Until someone pulled me back, urging me not to escalate things, I finally eased my grip. Next, I opened his phone, and the first thing I saw was a video of Samantha. Her face flashed in the footage, and I immediately recognized the large gold bracelet I had bought her just days ago. Samantha was incredibly eager in the video, her expression one of pure enjoyment. Two words came to mind. Filthy! Sordid! I had never realized she could be so open-minded. The demure lady in public was nothing but a wanton in private. I secretly transferred the video to my phone as a backup. Now, I had more than enough evidence. Next, I spent a few minutes deleting all videos of other girls. One friend couldn’t stand this scum and spat on Ryan, yelling, “Didn’t your mom teach you to respect women?” “What a disgrace! And you call yourself a college student? You’re more like a beast.”

When I got home, I found Samantha looking anxious, grabbing her bag and ready to leave. I grabbed her hand and forced a smile. “Honey, it’s late. Where are you going?” She swallowed hard and quickly said, “A friend is sick; I need to go see him.” “Oh? Let me take you.” She shook her head, looking nervous. “It’s fine, honey. You worked all day and need to rest. I’ll take a cab.” Samantha hurriedly released my hand and dashed out the door. I chuckled. Looks like Ryan had gotten himself into deep trouble. I smirked. The real show was just beginning! With my friends’ help, Ryan had ended up deep in gambling debt. When faced with the massive bill, he immediately thought of Samantha. I occasionally caught glimpses of his messages to her. “Help me save my life, sis.” “Isn’t your rich husband there to help pay off my debts?” “Or better yet, why not just kill him and inherit everything?” “After all, you hate him touching you and said he looks like a gorilla. You wouldn’t mind if he just disappeared, would you?” The rest was Samantha’s reply. “No way! I’d go to jail. Let me ask him for some money first…” Well, I didn’t expect Samantha to refuse Ryan’s request out of fear of prison. It seemed she didn’t care about the bond we shared over the years. Fine, since you both lack empathy, I won’t show mercy. Sure enough, when I got home from work, Samantha had prepared a feast. As soon as I walked in, she rushed to take my bag, bending down to help me with my shoes. Feigning concern, I helped her up. “Be careful; don’t hurt our baby.” “Okay, honey! I made your favorite dish, come and see!” At the dinner table, she subtly mentioned her financial struggles, but I ignored her, focused on my meal. After a while, she finally lost her temper and slammed her chopsticks down in front of me. Startled, I nearly stood up to slap her. But reason won over impulse, and I bit my lip, asking, “Have you lost your mind, Samantha?” She became even angrier, clearly not expecting me to raise my voice. After all this time, I had rarely shown anger toward her. “David, you actually yelled at me?” Her eyes were red with fury as she stood to confront me. “What have you given me all these years? Other husbands are handsome and wealthy, and what about you?” “I should have listened to my parents and not married you!” Ha! You didn’t want to marry me, and I regret marrying you. If it weren’t for my parents introducing us as a good match, I wouldn’t have looked at you twice. It’s not that I don’t have money; it’s that you’re just too greedy. But I kept those thoughts to myself; this wasn’t the time to burn bridges. Yet the more Samantha spoke, the more she trampled my dignity. “David, do you even realize how disgusting you are? Every time you touch me, I want to vomit.” “And you? You’re useless in bed!” That was it; she had completely enraged me. I believe no man would allow such insults, especially from his wife. “Samantha, have you forgotten the disgusting things you’ve done?” “What right do you have to shout here, you homewrecker?”

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My wife and her “male best friend” were fooling around in a car out in the suburbs when a truck came out of nowhere, sending them crashing down a hill. The doctor said, “If you want to save her leg, you need to come up with $30,000 for the surgery.” Hearing that, I, a grown man, broke down in tears. “My wife is the best dancer in this city! She makes a living and her reputation with those legs!” “If she loses them, she won’t want to live!” “So please, when you amputate, just be gentle, okay?” When I arrived at the hospital, I quickly tried to wipe the grin off my face that I’d had since the drive over. I rushed to the bedside, dropped to my knees, and started crying my heart out. “Emily, what were you thinking?” “If you’re going to have an affair, at least pick a safer spot! I wouldn’t have cared as long as you’re safe!” “Please, don’t think you owe me anything just because you did something so… disgraceful. Don’t go and do anything drastic, alright?” Even the nurse nearby was moved, probably not used to seeing such a “devoted” man. But the doctor pulled me aside and said firmly, “Quit stalling. You need to raise the money. Her leg can still be saved.” I stood up right away. “Right, I’ll get on it. I’ll call my mother-in-law.” I dialed Linda’s number. “Mom! Send me $30,000! Annie needs it for surgery!” “What kind of surgery needs 30 grand? Do I look stupid? I’m not giving you a penny! You’re useless! Get lost!” “But Mom, it’s serious…” “Serious my ass! I’ll deal with the next hand! You’re busted!” Click — she hung up. Everyone in the room heard her loud and clear, thanks to my phone’s speaker mode. The last beep beep sound of the disconnected call echoed through the room. I struggled to keep the smirk off my face and looked at the doctor helplessly. “I’m sorry, Doc. I’ve got no money.” “My wife cherishes those legs more than anything.” “So when you amputate, just… be careful, okay?” The doctor nodded toward my wife’s lover and asked, “What about him? Are we saving him?” “Of course! My wife really likes him. She can live with prosthetic legs, but if he dies, well, there’s no replacement for that. You have to save him!” I wiped my tears and added, “But, you know, I don’t think I’m really in a position to sign his consent form.” The doctor rolled his eyes and pushed my wife into the operating room. The nurse shot me a sympathetic glance before following. As soon as they disappeared, I sent a message to Jim, my father-in-law: “Annie’s leg is gone. Mom refused to help. This is unbearable.”

By the time Linda arrived at the hospital, Annie had already been wheeled out of surgery. “Annie! My baby, what happened to you?” “Mom, Annie just got out of surgery,” I whispered, “you should keep your voice down. It’s not good for her.” Linda shot me a look filled with venom. “Why wasn’t it you in the crash? How can you stand there, you worthless man? Annie’s in this mess because she married a loser like you!” “If you’re so capable, why don’t you get the money for her treatment?” I raised my hands. “Mom, I asked you for money, remember? You wouldn’t give it to me. Something about ‘beating the hand?’” Linda suddenly remembered and sprang up, her face flushed with rage, spraying spit everywhere. “You liar! You’ve never told the truth in your life!” Before she could finish, I played the recording from my phone. “Mom, Annie needs money for her leg…” “Money, my ass! Busted!” There was an awkward silence in the ER. “Mom, after my business went under, you took all the money we had left. Without your help, how could I save her?” “I told you about the situation first thing. You’re really going to act like it’s not your fault?” “You… you did this on purpose, didn’t you?!” Linda’s face turned bright red as she lunged at me, but two quick-thinking nurses stepped in to hold her back. One of them scowled, “Can you keep it down? The patient needs rest! What kind of mother are you, anyway?” After my earlier emotional performance, the nurses had clearly become my biggest fans. They glared at Linda like they couldn’t believe such a good man had to deal with someone like her. Linda sneered, “What, are you two his girlfriends? Standing up for him like that? Where’s your shame?” “Who are you calling shameless?” “You! You’re the shameless one!” “Say that again, I dare you!” Just as things were about to get physical, a weak voice came from the hospital bed. “Mom…” My wife was awake.

Linda rushed to the bed and took Annie’s hand. “Annie, are you okay? Are you still in pain? Mom’s here now.” Wiping her tears, she turned to me and spat, “You just had to marry a deadbeat like him! If he hadn’t crashed the car, would you have had to Uber to your student’s house for lessons?” “My student… wait, what about Brandon? Is he okay?” “Brandon? Who’s that?” Linda asked, confused. I stepped in helpfully. “He’s the one who was driving Annie to her lesson. I heard they were pulled out of the wreck pretty easily since neither of them were wearing clothes.” “You!” Linda’s hand trembled as she pointed at me. “How dare you humiliate my daughter like that! I swear, I’ll make sure you regret ever opening that mouth of yours!” “Enough! I want to see Brandon!” Annie tried to throw the blanket off, but underneath, her legs were gone. “My legs! Where are my legs?” Annie screamed, her voice filled with despair. I quickly covered my face, pretending to weep. I didn’t want them to see how happy I was. “Annie’s legs, where are they?” Linda shrieked, frantically searching the bed. Annie, meanwhile, started smashing everything in sight. “I knew it! You did this to her, didn’t you?” Annie’s bloodshot eyes locked onto me, filled with accusation. I waved my hands. “Annie, when you were unconscious, I already explained the situation to Mom. The doctors heard it all, too.” “You know the state of our finances. After the business failed, you told Mom I wasn’t cut out for it, and she took control of everything. All the money is with her!” “When they said they needed $30,000 for the surgery, I had to ask her for it. She refused. She’s the one who didn’t save you. Not me! I couldn’t get the money!” I played the recording again, and that damning busted echoed through the room. Annie’s face turned dark, and she glared at Linda. Anyone could tell Linda had spent more time playing cards than taking care of the family. She’d taken all the money under the guise of ‘saving it for Annie,’ and now, Annie’s chance for recovery was gone. Linda dropped to her knees, wailing. “Annie, you’re my flesh and blood! How could I not care? It’s your husband, this good-for-nothing, lying to both of us!” “Enough!” Annie was shaking with rage. She pointed at her mother. “Get out!” “How can you talk to me like that, sweetie?” Just then, Jim barged into the room, out of breath. “Annie!” “Dad…” Jim’s eyes fell on the empty space where Annie’s legs used to be, and his face froze. He’d spent years bragging about his daughter’s talent, how many awards she’d won. His comfortable life was all thanks to the income she brought in with those legs of hers. All the city officials who’d sent their kids to Annie for dance lessons, those gifts and favors they’d received—everything was over now. Her legs were gone, and so was everything else. “Jim, thank God you’re here! You’ve got to stop Adam! He’s ruining our family!” Linda cried. Slap! Jim smacked Linda across the face, hard.

My name is Adam Cooper. I used to be a successful business owner, a rising star in the tech world. Five years ago, I met Annie at a dinner party. She was still in college. I had dropped out of high school to start my business. I was totally mesmerized by her—smart, cultured, and beautiful. She seemed so innocent, like a delicate flower. I fell head over heels for her. I thought she was the most talented, gentle, and pure woman I’d ever met. I pursued her relentlessly. Her family didn’t want her to go to art school. They wanted to use the money to put her brother, Tyler, through college. The night she found out, she came to me crying. We had a few drinks and ended up sleeping together. From that moment on, I paid for her to stay in school. Basically, I became her sugar daddy. She went on to win awards, became a state-level dance teacher, and eventually married me. At first, I thought her parents were just petty and tightfisted, but out of respect for Annie, I tolerated them. But then I realized—Annie wasn’t any better than they were. She was just better at hiding it. When my company was struggling, I found out I’d been blackballed. One of my competitors got drunk and spilled the beans. “You know why everyone’s out to get you, right?” “Because you stole the big boss’s side chick!” That night, I checked her phone and found out she was still seeing other men—one of them was even her student! She had sent him photos and videos, driving him crazy. Every time she went to his house for “lessons,” it wasn’t about books. It was about something else entirely. She never acted that way around me. Furious, I was about to confront her when the hospital called… “That bitch! It’s all because of you!” Jim growled at Linda. Linda was still seeing stars from the slap, but she managed to sit on the floor, wailing. “Oh God, I can’t take this anymore!” She wasn’t exactly a refined woman—more of a backwoods type who always resorted to drama and screaming when things went south. “How the hell did this car accident happen?” Jim was livid, his voice a mix of anger and desperation. “Who was driving the car? Who caused this mess? Annie’s lost her legs, and now I’m going to find the bastard responsible and tear his arms off!” “Yeah, Annie! You need to tell us who was driving that car! We’ll sue them for all they’ve got!” Linda added, still hoping to get some kind of payout. I watched Annie’s face flush red, her lips pressed tight. She couldn’t even bring herself to speak. I clapped my hands together, unable to hide my amusement. “If Annie doesn’t want to tell you, I will.”

“Jim, Linda, you both know Annie is a truly dedicated teacher, always looking after her students, right? She goes above and beyond, making sure they have everything they need. Well, this time, she decided to help one of them… a little too much.” Jim was starting to lose his patience. “Just get to the point!” I paused for effect, raising my eyebrows. “That is the point, Jim. Annie took her student, Brandon, into the car for a little, shall we say, extra tutoring session. They were getting real close when that truck came out of nowhere.” “You’re saying what, exactly?” Jim barked. “That our sweet, innocent Annie was… well, let’s just say, ‘educating’ her student in the back seat when they got hit.” “You’re lying! You filthy liar!” Jim roared, swinging his arm, trying to punch me. I dodged him easily, and he nearly stumbled into the bed. “He’s been spewing lies from the moment he got here! He’s just jealous that Annie’s more successful than he ever was. Marrying our daughter was the best thing that ever happened to this scumbag!” Linda joined in, her voice shrill and furious. “Yeah! Annie’s pure and kind! If she ever did something like that, I’ll jump out of this window right now!” Jim added, pounding his chest like a righteous man. Jim and Linda were so worked up, they could hardly see straight. They couldn’t believe their precious daughter could be anything but perfect. I watched them closely. They had always been a family that valued their son over their daughter. Annie’s brother, Tyler, had been kicked out of college for fighting, and now both parents relied on Annie’s dance career to fund their cushy lifestyle. No matter how much money I made, I was never good enough for them. They pretended I didn’t exist when things were good, but when things went bad, they all turned to Annie to bail them out. When my business was doing well, I didn’t let it get to me. I figured, hey, it’s family. But after my company crashed, they treated me like a stray dog. Tyler used to offer to park my car; now, when I go to dinner, I can feel the disdain rolling off of him in waves. That’s what this family is: opportunistic parasites. “Who here is Annie Cooper?” a stern voice called from the doorway. Jim and Linda’s ranting came to a halt as two police officers stepped into the room. “Officers! Finally! Arrest this lying scumbag! He’s been slandering our daughter this whole time, and he’s the one responsible for her accident! He’s the reason she lost her legs!” Linda screamed, jumping up and pointing at me like I was public enemy number one. The officers didn’t bother acknowledging her theatrics. They walked straight up to Annie’s bed and pulled out a stack of photos. “Mrs. Cooper, we’ve got surveillance footage from the crash site. Is this you?” One of the officers held up a photograph.

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The daughter I cherished like a treasure turned out to be a fraud. My real daughter, however, was thrown into a homeless camp by my husband. While that little snake, Chloe, paraded around in designer clothes, dripping in jewels, my daughter was dressed in rags, barely scraping by. Chloe was sent abroad for an Ivy League education, while my daughter remained illiterate. When my daughter finally escaped the wolves and returned home to seek her family, Lucas sent her away without telling me, shoving her out of our lives. Heartbroken, my daughter walked through the storm, only to be struck by a drunk truck driver. When I discovered the truth, I wanted to seek justice for her. But before I could, Chloe pushed me into the freezing waters of the Hudson River. In my last moments, I saw Lucas holding hands with Megan Stone, with Chloe clinging tightly to them. “Thank you for raising my daughter so well,” Lucas said with a smirk. When I opened my eyes again, I was back at the moment Grace was born. This time, I would protect my precious daughter at all costs!

I struggled desperately in the ice-cold water of the Hudson. Until the moment I drowned, no one came to save me. I felt my soul leave my body. I was so unwilling to die, so full of hatred! Lucas, the man I loved deeply, had been cheating on me for years. The daughter I cherished like my own was actually Lucas and Megan Stone’s illegitimate child. Megan’s wild laughter echoed in my ears even in death. Before my eyes, I saw nothing but blood—just like the scene when my real daughter, Grace, died, her blood pooling around her lifeless body. If I could do it all over again, I would take revenge—for myself, and for Grace! Suddenly, I heard the cry of a newborn baby… I forced my heavy eyelids open. The blinding white ceiling, the smell of disinfectant. Was I in the hospital? I wasn’t supposed to be alive; I had drowned in the river, hadn’t I? I glanced around. The old-fashioned decor—it looked familiar. Suddenly, I felt a sharp pain in my abdomen and couldn’t help but cry out. “Sweetheart, you’re awake! You scared me to death!” Mom? I focused my vision. It was my mother, but much younger than I remembered her. Wait… had I been reborn? Ignoring the pain, I bolted upright in bed. “Mom, where is my daughter?” In my past life, Lucas swapped my baby while I was weak and unconscious from childbirth. Not this time. Not again. My mother gently wiped the sweat from my forehead as I grabbed her arm, pleading. “Mom, where is my baby?” Unaware of my panic, she tried to soothe me. “Sweetie, don’t worry. The nurse took her for a checkup. She’ll be back soon.” “You should lie down and rest. You just had a baby; don’t overexert yourself.” I stared straight into my mother’s eyes. “Where’s Lucas?” She smiled. “Oh, you know him, he’s obsessed with Grace. The nurse only took her for a routine check, but he insisted on going with them.” What? My heart felt like it was in a vice, and I couldn’t breathe. No! I won’t let him get away with it this time. Ignoring the pain, I jumped out of bed, barefoot, and ran toward the door. My mother tried to stop me, but I sidestepped her and rushed to the door, only to collide with someone coming in. It was Lucas! He cradled the baby protectively, glaring at me with irritation. Seeing how he held Chloe so tenderly, I felt like I couldn’t breathe. Even after being given a second chance, he had still won. Rage shot through me like wildfire. If my anger could take physical form, Lucas would have been reduced to ashes on the spot. “Melissa, the floor’s cold. Get back in bed,” Lucas said, faking concern. He thought he had fooled me, but I could still see the malice and impatience in his eyes. My mother caught up, pulling me back into bed. Once I was settled, Lucas laid Chloe beside me. “She’s hungry,” he said. On cue, Chloe started crying. I stared coldly at her. This was the child who had stolen Grace’s life, stolen all my love and resources, only to repay me by pushing me into the river. There wasn’t a creature in the world more vile than Chloe, this snake in the grass. Slowly, I reached out, my hand hovering over her neck. I wanted to strangle her right then and there. Lucas was lost in his own thoughts, smiling, unaware of what I was about to do. But my mother, who had been watching me closely, gasped. “Melissa, that’s not how you hold a baby. You need to support her neck.” “She’s crying because she’s hungry,” Lucas chimed in, smiling as he picked Chloe up, trying to place her in my arms. I turned away, lying down on the bed. “She can have formula. I’m tired. I need to rest.”

I closed my eyes, and all I could see was the blood covering the ground from the moment my daughter died. I won’t let any of these monsters get away with this. I’m playing the long game now. Lucas Anderson, the man my father handpicked, was nothing more than a glorified errand boy at my dad’s company. Maybe it was my family’s wealth that gave him the perfect cover—everyone thought he was the ideal husband. Everyone, including me, believed I had found the best man on earth. It wasn’t until the end that I learned the truth. Lucas called it “suffering in silence for a better future.” But that future was never with me—it was always with Megan Stone. Megan had even timed her pregnancy to align with mine, delivering early by C-section to swap our babies. Chloe, the little snake, was born small and frail, premature. I had spent my last life nursing her back to health, pouring every bit of my energy into her. She grew strong enough to push me into the freezing Hudson River. Lucas had been my father’s top choice, a man he believed could help carry the burden of the family business. He had chosen Lucas from among the scholarship recipients he had sponsored, thinking Lucas had the potential to succeed. Dad said Lucas was handsome, disciplined, and hardworking—a man with promise. Mom, however, insisted I should marry someone from an equally wealthy family. But I was blinded by Lucas’s charm, convinced he was the one for me. I even talked my mom into supporting our marriage. Looking back now, I was completely blind and foolish. I never saw the rotten core underneath Lucas’s polished exterior. As for when Lucas and Megan started their affair, I have no idea. But Megan’s due date was after mine, so he had to have been cheating on me while I was pregnant. Once I got pregnant, my focus shifted entirely to Grace. I slowly handed over control of the family business to Lucas, thinking he could handle it. This time around, Lucas won’t get a single cent from the Evans fortune. Once I recovered physically, I moved into the luxury Park Avenue Postpartum Retreat I had reserved. Back when we got married, we didn’t dig deep enough into Lucas’s past. We didn’t realize he had been pining after Megan all along. I contacted Uncle George, the head of security at Evans Family Enterprises, to dig into Lucas’s life thoroughly. The fact that he had managed to evade a professional background check told me he had planned this for years. Lucas claimed to have no family—his parents were dead, and he didn’t keep in touch with relatives. My parents and I had pitied him, bending over backward to make him feel like part of our family. I had even suppressed my privileged upbringing, afraid of hurting his fragile ego. Looking back now, I realize I was nothing but a fool. A man who could abandon his own daughter to a homeless camp deserves nothing less than to lose everything and end up alone. Business was busy, and most of the time it was just me and that little snake, Chloe. Watching her, this ungrateful, feral child, made me clench my fists just to stop myself from choking her. Meanwhile, my true daughter, Grace, was out there suffering, while this monster lay in the most luxurious postpartum retreat money could buy. Maybe it was the icy glare in my eyes, but Chloe started to cry. And then—two loud sounds. She had soiled herself. In my past life, I had pushed through my disgust, changing her diapers and cleaning her up time and time again. But not this time. This time, I didn’t care if she got a rash that covered her entire face. I had already refused to breastfeed her, and even though Lucas tried to hide it, I could see the resentment in his eyes. He was already planning his revenge, no doubt. Too bad for him—this time, I’m the one keeping score. Without a penny to his name, Lucas, the dependent son-in-law, couldn’t survive without me. No matter how angry he was, he had no choice but to swallow it. My parents, always so thoughtful, had sent high-end, imported baby formula. But I rejected it outright. I insisted on the cheaper kind. Even the staff at the retreat gave me strange looks. They wondered how someone as wealthy as me could be so stingy with a newborn. Some of them whispered that I must really favor boys over girls to act this way.

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The old lady next door lives alone, and she’s been mooching off my meals every day. One night, she suddenly fell ill. Out of kindness, I took her to the hospital, where she was diagnosed with late-stage colon cancer. Before I could even comfort her, her overly protective son accused me of poisoning her with my cooking. He went so far as to push me down a flight of stairs. When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to the moment when Mrs. Ruth Johnson had tagged me in the Nextdoor Community Group, asking me to bring her food. 0 “Sarah, are you there?” Early in the morning, Mrs. Ruth Johnson, my elderly neighbor, tagged me in the Nextdoor Community Group right on time. I stared at her message on my phone, a little dazed. Didn’t her son push me down the stairs? How can I still be seeing messages in the group? I quickly pinched my arm. Nope, I was still alive—and back to when Mrs. Johnson had just started living alone. “Sarah, I know you can see this. Can you open the door? I need to talk to you.” “You can just tell me in the group chat. I’m not really available right now.” I tried to make my reply sound as casual as possible. Mrs. Johnson posted again in the Nextdoor Community Group. “Sarah, you’re such a kind soul. My gas is out, and I don’t know how to refill the tank. Could you bring me a meal?” Her tone was so pitiful. In my past life, I was fooled by that frail and helpless act, which led me to take care of her—ultimately costing me my life! This time around, there’s no way I’m signing my own death sentence. “Gas? I don’t know how to refill it either. Why don’t you give your son a call to help you out?” I replied on purpose, but Mrs. Johnson responded like it was the most natural thing. “My son’s not around. Sarah, could you help me? You’ve always been there for me in the past.” “I’m just an old lady living on my own. If I starve to death, you being my neighbor—won’t your conscience hurt?” “Yeah, Sarah, we’re all neighbors here. What’s the harm in lending a hand?” Suddenly, someone else chimed in—it was Michael Adams, another neighbor on my floor. I smirked. “Lend a hand”? It’s never been easy for me. I’m swamped with work, so I make a simple packed lunch to bring to the office. Since Mrs. Johnson started mooching, she’s been picky about what she eats, demanding I get up at dawn to shop for her favorites at the farmer’s market. The time I wasted each day could have been enough to sit down for eight meals after work. My expenses went up fast, too. Last time around, I cooked for her for a whole month. In the end, she got cancer and blamed my cooking. I still don’t know what got into me last time. All it took was for her to ask, and I’d give in. Taking a deep breath, I replied to the nosy neighbor. “My gas is out too. Hey, Michael, you live closer to SoCalGas, don’t you? How about you help both Mrs. Johnson and me with the gas?” As soon as I sent the message, Michael backed out, “I’ve been working long hours at the construction site. No time to make it to the gas company.” “Sorry, gotta run—boss is calling.” Michael stopped responding after that. He’s always been the type to preach about kindness but never lifts a finger when it’s his turn to help. Mrs. Johnson, still with no dinner after all that back-and-forth, wasn’t ready to give up. She tagged me again. “Sarah, what are you busy with? Maybe I can wait until you’re done?” “I twisted my ankle. The doctor says I won’t be walking for at least a month or two.” “That long?” Mrs. Johnson sounded shocked. “Well then, I won’t trouble you. I can’t wait that long.” Mrs. Johnson stopped messaging in the Nextdoor Community Group. Finally, the tension left my body, and I started packing. It was time to cancel my lease and move out of this place. In my previous life, Mrs. Johnson’s son pushed me off a building at the hospital. I’ll never forget the terror of that fall, and I sure don’t want to experience it again. The best choice is to stay as far away from Mrs. Johnson as possible. 0

At 3 a.m., I was jolted awake by a notification from the group chat. It was a voice call initiated by none other than Steven Johnson, Mrs. Johnson’s son. When I didn’t answer, he started ranting in the group. “Sarah, are you even human? My mom’s out of gas and asked you for a meal, and you couldn’t be bothered?” “She’s an elderly woman! If she starves to death at home, can you live with that?” What a lunatic. How is it my responsibility if his mom eats or not? “She’s your mom, not mine. Besides, I’m not a restaurant. If I make her something and she gets sick, I’m not taking the blame!” “You’ve already made her food two or three times! You’re clearly trying to starve her to death on purpose!” Steven was completely unreasonable, and I lost it. “I sprained my ankle! I can barely make food for myself, let alone for your mom.” “If you care so much, why don’t you come over and cook for her yourself?” I muted the group chat immediately. This guy’s insane. Just because I didn’t cook for his mom, he comes ranting at me in the middle of the night? I’m not Mrs. Johnson’s daughter or her caretaker. Why should I be responsible for her? If I had known how this would play out, I would have refused her the first time she asked to mooch off my meals. Out of pity, I gave her a little extra when I cooked. She was a lonely, frail old lady who couldn’t even get a hot meal. I didn’t expect her to latch onto me like a leech. But my kindness wasn’t met with gratitude from either her or her son. Instead, they took it for granted, assuming it was my duty to help. The next morning, Mrs. Johnson started tagging me relentlessly in the Nextdoor Community Group again. I had the group muted and didn’t even see the messages. Besides, I’d already called the moving company and was ready to get out of there as soon as I sold my apartment. It was the smell of smoke that woke me up later. There was a crowd gathered at Mrs. Johnson’s door, and the firefighters looked annoyed. “Ma’am, even if you’re living alone, you’ve got to keep an eye on the stove.” “If the property manager hadn’t noticed the smoke, this whole building could’ve gone up.” “Seriously! We just had these walls repainted, and now they’ll need to be redone because of this mess. What a waste of money!” The property management staff complained. Mrs. Johnson didn’t dare make a peep, standing by the door, all meek and quiet. Michael had just come back from his night shift. After hearing what happened, he immediately spoke up for Mrs. Johnson. “Come on, folks. It wasn’t intentional. She’s an old lady living by herself. A little mistake is understandable. The important thing is no one got hurt.” Mrs. Johnson instantly put on a tearful face. “It’s okay, Michael. I don’t blame anyone. This is definitely my fault, but I swear I didn’t do it on purpose.” “I was starving all day yesterday and messaged Sarah this morning to help me make some porridge, but she didn’t respond. I was starting to worry something had happened to her. Now that I see her walking around, I feel so much better…” Her passive-aggressive tone made my blood boil. What annoyed me even more was that Michael, always the good guy, believed her without question and turned to scold me. “Sarah, what’s wrong with you? Why didn’t you reply to Mrs. Johnson’s messages? You’re perfectly fine, and she nearly burned the building down because of you.” I watched them play off each other, smiling coldly on the inside. But on the surface, I put on a guilty expression, ready to play along. “I’m really sorry. My ankle’s been hurting so much, and some jerk was yelling at me last night. I barely slept until this morning.” “If it weren’t for the smoke, I’d probably still be passed out right now.” Michael, always eager for gossip, leaned in, curious. “Who was yelling at you in the middle of the night? Is this person unhinged or something? Did you do something to set them off?” “Ugh!” I sighed heavily. “It was Mrs. Johnson’s son.” “He started yelling at me around 3 a.m. because I didn’t cook for his mom. He tagged me in the group chat just to curse me out.” As I said this, I glanced around at the other neighbors who had gathered to watch the drama unfold. I raised my voice a little to make sure they could hear. “Hey, neighbors, we’re all part of this community. Mrs. Johnson is an elderly woman living alone, so let’s help where we can.” “I’ve got a hurt ankle and can’t cook for her. Maybe someone else could make a meal and share it with Mrs. Johnson?” As soon as I finished speaking, the place fell so silent you could hear a pin drop. Everyone had seen Steven’s outburst in the group chat the day before. Nobody wanted to deal with that kind of trouble. After what seemed like an eternity, someone muttered under their breath. “When my mom lived alone, she still cooked for herself. It’s not really fair to expect the neighbors to do it.” “Yeah, sure, elderly people need help sometimes, but she’s got a son. It’s not our job to take care of her.” With that, the crowd dispersed. 0

Michael noticed Mrs. Johnson’s face turning sour, so he tried to console her, playing the good guy again. “Mrs. Johnson, don’t let those selfish people bother you.” I nodded in agreement. “Yeah, no compassion at all.” “Michael, I know you cook at home often, and you’re right across the hall from Mrs. Johnson. How about you make her some meals over the next few days?” Michael’s expression instantly changed to one of pure panic. “My cooking’s terrible. I doubt Mrs. Johnson would even like it.” “But your dad’s a retired chef from a fancy hotel. Surely cooking for an elderly neighbor wouldn’t be too difficult?” Michael’s dad lived with him, and the two were known for their nightly meals and occasional drinks, the aromas wafting through the halls for everyone to enjoy. Michael’s face turned pale. “That’s not gonna work! We only cook stuff that goes well with a drink. Mrs. Johnson’s tastes are different. And anyway, what if something goes wrong and she gets sick? Who’s gonna be responsible?” See? He knew all along how risky it was, but it only mattered when it wasn’t his responsibility. Smiling, I played along. “Exactly, Michael. You know how dangerous it is to feed someone else. So why didn’t you warn me when I was cooking for Mrs. Johnson a few days ago?” “Luckily, nothing happened. Michael, you wouldn’t have let me take the blame on purpose, would you?” Sweat began dripping down Michael’s back as he stammered out a response. “I—I just didn’t think of it until now. Anyway, I’ve been working nights, so I should probably get some sleep.” Michael made a hasty exit. Mrs. Johnson shot me a glance from the doorway, her face a twisted mix of frustration and defeat. “Never mind. It was just a moment of carelessness on my part. I’ll make sure to be more careful in the kitchen from now on.” “As for what happened yesterday, my son definitely overreacted. Please don’t take it to heart, Sarah.” I thought for a moment that Mrs. Johnson had finally changed her ways. But it turns out, you can’t teach an old dog new tricks. Later that afternoon, community volunteers came by to drop off supplies—bags of flour, rice, and oil—to help Mrs. Johnson out. But she looked at the items with pure disdain. “I don’t eat this kind of oil. It’s all GMO. Not healthy at all.” “And what am I supposed to do with flour? I’m an old woman! Do you expect me to knead dough on my own?” The community workers exchanged awkward glances. Then Mrs. Johnson’s gaze shifted to the takeout bag in my hand. “Sarah, that takeout smells delicious. Why don’t you give me a bite?” “Mrs. Johnson, this takeout is all processed junk food. It’s not good for you at your age. You should really stick to cooking at home.” I quickly grabbed my takeout and closed the door, devouring it in record time. In my past life, I’d ordered takeout for Mrs. Johnson plenty of times. She was picky, only wanting the priciest meals. One time, when a heavy rainstorm delayed the delivery, she refused to eat the food and called to complain. “Sarah, what is this garbage you ordered? It’s cold and inedible!” “Take it back home with you when you get off work. I’m not touching it!” Of course, she never paid me for any of the takeout. Looking back, I can’t believe how I was such a pushover—working like a dog, too broke to order food for myself, yet still paying out of pocket to get her the best meals. After finishing my takeout, I reclined on the balcony, enjoying the breeze in my lounge chair. This relaxed life was heaven. Suddenly, the video doorbell buzzed, alerting me to someone at the door. It was Mrs. Johnson again, I assumed, back to cause more trouble. But when I checked the live feed, I saw a man standing there instead. Judging by his posture, he looked a lot like Michael’s dad. And right now, the two of them were holding hands, exchanging glances so intense you could almost see sparks flying between them. Well, well, well. Looks like there’s more to this story than I thought. 0

Mrs. Johnson was practically draped over John Adams, working her charm like she had perfected the art. “John, if it weren’t for you, I don’t know what would’ve happened. I really thought I was at the end of my rope,” she said, her voice trembling for effect. “I was so hungry that I collapsed just outside my door.” John, ever the gentleman, responded quickly. “Why didn’t you say anything? I’m a retired chef! Making a meal for you would’ve been no trouble at all.” Mrs. Johnson kept her tone soft, still pulling at his emotions. “How could I impose? Besides, your son mentioned that the meals you make at home are all too heavy, more suited for a glass of whiskey. I’m not sure I’d be able to handle it…” John bristled at the mention of his son. “Michael’s talking nonsense! We eat hearty, delicious food every day. Tell you what, why don’t I whip up a nice chicken pot pie for you?” Mrs. Johnson hesitated for effect. “Won’t Michael mind?” That set John off. “Mind? What business is it of his? I make the rules in my house!” Mrs. Johnson smiled sweetly. “You’re too kind, John. Anyone lucky enough to be a part of your family is truly blessed.” With that, she had him wrapped around her finger. John was practically glowing from her praise, and off he went to cook her a meal. I couldn’t help but laugh. Mrs. Johnson hadn’t lost her touch. In no time at all, she had found her next target—a free personal chef. I could only imagine Michael’s face when he came home to find that the pot pie meant for his dinner had been devoured by Mrs. Johnson. Satisfied with the little drama, I ordered another round of takeout and spent the rest of the afternoon lounging comfortably. As I settled down to watch a movie, my phone buzzed—there was a flurry of activity in the Nextdoor Community Group. “Mrs. Johnson, couldn’t you have discussed whatever it was in person? Did my dad really need to go over to your place in the middle of the night?” “What’s going on that you have to drag him into this mess?” Michael’s post read. Mrs. Johnson wasted no time replying. “I just wanted to thank your father for making me dinner. Michael, I think you’re overreacting.” “Overreacting? My dad has never once cooked for me in years. Then suddenly he’s making you pot pie? I’ve never even had his pot pie!” Michael fumed in the chat. Frustrated, John finally chimed in. “That’s enough! Mrs. Johnson needs help, and I’m more than happy to provide it. You’re a grown man—do you still expect me to cook your meals? Seriously, Michael, stop being selfish!” The chat had clearly caught everyone’s attention. Michael, in a fit of rage, continued. “Stop being selfish? I bust my butt working all day and come home to relax with a drink and a decent meal, but now my food is going to someone else? And let’s not forget—this woman had the nerve to cozy up to you, and now you’re at her place all the time!” He wasn’t holding back. I hadn’t expected him to air their dirty laundry so openly. The other neighbors jumped in, unable to resist. “This does seem a bit much.” “Yeah, getting free meals is one thing, but turning the chef into your personal servant is another.” “Careful, Mrs. Johnson, if you steal our building’s prized cook, Michael’s going to starve.” The comments kept rolling in, getting more and more out of hand. Mrs. Johnson remained silent, no doubt furious but unable to retaliate. I let the chaos play out in the group while I turned back to my movie. But the next morning, I woke to a different kind of chaos. Standing at my front door was Steven Johnson. And in his hand was a knife.

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Chris Harper and I had been married for five years, and in that time, he had dated at least ten girlfriends. So when Lily Parker showed up at his side, my friends all told me: “Chris is just having fun. Don’t take it seriously.” But I knew better. Chris was serious this time. More serious than anyone realized. “Hey, I heard it’s your wedding anniversary with Chris today.” “How about we make a bet? Let’s see who can keep Chris. Whoever loses will gracefully step aside.” That popped up in my text messages. It was a challenge from Lily Parker, Chris’s new girlfriend. I thought it was childish, so I didn’t respond. Instead, I smiled and returned to the Grand Ballroom at The Waldorf Astoria, where all eyes were on the star of the night. Chris noticed me immediately and smiled as he walked over, wrapping his arm around my shoulders. “What’s wrong?” he asked. “You don’t look well.” Our friends nearby cheered us on, saying how Chris and I were still as in love as ever, how our marriage had withstood the test of time. Some joked, urging Chris to treat me well and not regret anything later. Chris navigated the crowd effortlessly, like a fish in water. I stayed by his side, the perfect accessory, putting on the appropriate smile. Halfway through the night, the host grabbed the microphone and invited Chris to come up and say a few words. Chris nodded and turned to me. “I have a gift for you,” he said. I smiled back. “Great.” The next second, his phone rang. The ringtone was jarring. Chris paused, hesitant, but after a moment, he continued toward the stage, picked up the microphone, and finished his greetings to the crowd. His eyes then locked onto mine. “Today is our fifth wedding anniversary.” “You once mentioned liking an island.” “I bought it for you as an anniversary gift.” His assistant handed him a contract, but as soon as it was in his hands, the phone rang again. The ringtone cut through the atmosphere like a knife, and I saw a flash of panic in Chris’s eyes. I turned to look behind me, and my heart skipped a beat. Standing on the outskirts of the crowd was the girl from the profile picture—the one I’d seen in the text message. She stood there, holding her phone, silently mouthing, “Answer it.” Her eyes were bright, but there was a faint mist over them. She mouthed the words again, “Answer the call.” Against my better judgment, I turned back toward Chris. The contract slipped from Chris’s hands as he answered the call. The girl’s voice, strained with emotion, echoed through the ballroom. “Chris.” “I’m breaking up with you.” There was a pause, then she dropped the bomb. “And I’m getting rid of this baby.” “Chris,” she continued in a soft, broken voice. “I don’t want you anymore.” And then, she hung up. The whole room went silent. No one noticed the girl in the simple white dress turning to leave after delivering her message. But Chris did. Not only did he notice, but without hesitation, he threw down the microphone and rushed out of the ballroom. The girl’s earlier challenge echoed in my mind: How about we make a bet? Let’s see who can keep Chris. Suddenly panicked, I lost all sense of decorum. Lifting the hem of my dress, I ran after him. I grabbed his hand, pleading, “Don’t go.” “Chris.” “Please, don’t leave.” I had always been composed, always the graceful Mrs. Harper. I was the girl Chris picked out of all the others in the foster care home, the one he chose to be the wife of the Harper family. I was the one who stayed by his side, even though I knew that our relationship was based more on years of growing up together than on passion. Yet, despite it all, I had fallen hopelessly in love with him. “Chris.” Tears streamed down my face. My voice broke. “Please, don’t leave.”

I held onto Chris’s hand so tightly that I was shaking. Then, I saw the disappointment in his eyes as he turned to face me. “Sarah,” he said, his voice calm but firm. “She’s different from you. She has nothing without me.” “You have everything,” Chris said, gently prying my fingers off. “But she only has me.” He let go of my hand. I fell to the floor, my newly done nails scraping against the carpet, splitting open as blood welled up from the cuts. The pain left me speechless. Chris hesitated for a moment when he saw me on the ground, but then, he turned and walked away. I couldn’t stop him, and I became the joke of the evening. Everyone tried to comfort me. “Chris is just used to running wild. He’s always had his flings.” “If he was going to settle down, he would have done it already.” “Sarah, don’t be upset. You and Chris grew up together. You’ve got years of history. No one can replace that.” “That girl’s just trying to use the baby to climb her way up. You’ve seen girls like her before. Don’t let it bother you.” Everyone kept telling me not to take it seriously. That Chris was just playing around. They told me not to invest my emotions. Some even suggested that I should play the same game, act weak, and beat the other woman at her own game. Everyone had an excuse for Chris. No one wanted to admit that Chris had actually fallen for her. But I knew. Chris was more invested than he’d ever been. The party ended early, and when I got home, Chris still wasn’t back. The maid had already made ginger tea and left it on the dining table. Beside it was a bouquet of roses Chris had bought earlier. The vibrant red of the roses only made me feel more pathetic in the quiet night. I went to the bedroom and saw our wedding photo. For a moment, I felt dazed. I walked over to the nightstand, took down the photo, and began cutting it into pieces with a pair of scissors. Then I smashed everything in the carefully decorated room in a fit of rage. Finally, I collapsed on the floor, sobbing uncontrollably. I cried until midnight, when the room was pitch dark. The only light came from my phone, the screen piercing my eyes. I opened the message. It was from Lily. A picture of her and Chris holding hands. Then, a voice message. And some text. The voice message was their conversation. She asked him, “When you left your wife behind, do you think she’ll blame you? Am I being too selfish, forgetting my place?” Without hesitation, Chris responded, “No one is more important than you.” “As long as you’re okay.” “That’s all that matters.” Chris’s voice felt like a thousand needles piercing my body. My chest tightened in pain as I read Lily’s text. You lost. Chris doesn’t love you. Give up your place as Mrs. Harper. Don’t make this messier than it has to be. Chris didn’t come home that night. I didn’t care anymore. I’d cried myself dry. The years we spent growing up together were over, and I was the only one left clinging to the past. It was laughable. As I packed my bags to leave, my phone rang. Chris’s voice came through, hoarse. “Sarah, Lily’s young and immature. You’ve always been the understanding one, but last night, you really crossed the line.” “How could you embarrass me like that?” “I don’t want this to happen again.”

I used to love hearing Chris’s voice. My father was a gambler, and after he lost everything, he tried to force my mother to sell herself to pay off his debts. She refused, and one stormy night, she fled with me. My father chased us through the streets with a knife. In the end, she hid me in a trash bin at the alleyway’s edge, and I watched as my father hacked her to death that night. The downpour. The endless lightning. And my father’s eerie whistling, coaxing me out. Those moments haunted my nightmares for years. Every time there was a thunderstorm, Chris would hold me tight, gently patting my back, whispering, “Sarah, don’t be scared.” “I’m here.” For those years, Chris became my only emotional anchor. Naturally, he became the only light in my life. But last night, even with the storm raging outside and lightning flashing, Chris wasn’t the one comforting me anymore. He’d forgotten that I get scared, forgotten that I need someone too. He could wake up the next morning without any remorse, blaming me for making him look bad. If love is something that builds over time, then not loving is like flipping an hourglass. My hand trembled as I held my phone, staring at the now-clear sky, tears still spilling, my chest aching. But I had to maintain my dignity. I had to hold onto what little composure I had left. So I said to Chris: “The divorce papers are on the table.” “I’ll only take what’s rightfully mine. Nothing more.” Before he could respond, I hung up. I blocked his number and deleted his contact, breathing heavily as I realized that cutting ties with someone you’ve loved for so long was like weaning a child off milk. But that’s okay. I was willing to let time heal me. I was ready to move forward. I’d booked the next available flight. To Portland, Maine. The place I’d once dreamed of moving to with Chris, where I’d imagined us living a simple life. I had asked him once, naively, if we could ever just be a regular couple, living in a small town together until we grew old. Chris had laughed at my innocence but then turned serious. “I don’t want to be ordinary.” “Small-town life comes with no room for error, no risks to take.” “I want to be somebody.” “I want to make you somebody, someone everyone looks up to.” Back then, Chris seemed to glow like a hero—a real-life hero, at least to me. He achieved everything he set out to do. Even though he drifted through countless flings during our five years of marriage, no one dared to speak ill of me. He always protected me, never letting me get hurt by the women who came and went. We had an unspoken agreement. I would fulfill my role as Mrs. Harper, and he would always keep me in the most important spot in his life. That was enough. But I had forgotten something. Human nature is easily tempted. And when a new woman lights a fire in Chris, the flames will spread uncontrollably. My once-brave knight no longer fought for me but instead turned his sword toward me. I chose not to fight back. I chose to walk away, giving them what they wanted. And giving myself the freedom I needed.

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My older sister Crystal has a savior complex. She thought our housekeeper was pitiful and wanted me to become her daughter instead. I enthusiastically agreed and went with her that very day to handle the paperwork. Whoever she felt sorry for, she could go be their daughter herself. In this life, she took my place being sold to the countryside and becoming a plaything. “Our housekeeper Mrs. Johnson is so pitiful. Her daughter isn’t even by her side. Why don’t you change your surname and become her daughter?” my older sister Crystal said. I wasn’t surprised at all to hear this from her. Instead, I clapped my hands in agreement. “Sister, you’re such a good person!” That same day, I went with her to handle the relevant paperwork. However, the one who ended up changing surnames wasn’t me, but my sister Crystal. I had secretly swapped the documents, and she didn’t notice at all. After all, she was used to me obeying her every word. When we got home, she started ordering the servants around. “Oh, and starting today, set one less place at the table.” “You’re right, sister. Since you’re no longer part of our family, you really shouldn’t be eating at the same table as me,” I said nonchalantly as I sat down in the main seat and started eating. “Ruby, what nonsense are you talking about? You’re the one who’s supposed to become the housekeeper’s daughter,” Crystal said, glaring at me with a sour expression. “Oh? Sister, did you misunderstand something?” I asked calmly, not even bothering to look at her as I took out the agreement from my bag and tossed it to her. Crystal picked up the agreement and only had to glance at it for a few seconds before her eyes widened in shock. “Ruby, you little bitch! How dare you trick me!” “From now on, we’re changing the rules in this house. I eat at the table, while the housekeeper doesn’t. You can only eat my leftovers. Got it?” I said, looking down at her from my seat. “Ruby, have you gone mad? How dare you talk to me like this? Do you have a death wish? I’m your sister!” Crystal shouted angrily. I took out two identification booklets. “Look carefully. Your registration is no longer in the same booklet as mine. You’re just our housekeeper’s daughter now. If you keep talking back, I might just throw you out.” Crystal has always had a savior complex, feeling pity for everyone she saw. But every time she made a sacrifice, it was always at my expense. When we were little, she saw a beggar on the street and thought he looked lonely and pitiful. So she left me there to be the beggar’s daughter. If our parents hadn’t found me in time, I would have been sold off to some far-off place. In school, she felt sorry for the school bullies because they didn’t have parents around. She hung out with them every day and even brought them home. I was just a child then, and they used me as their punching bag. I nearly lost my life. As she grew older, it only got worse. She sympathized with our housekeeper who had only been with us for two months. “Mrs. Johnson is so pitiful. Her daughter isn’t even by her side. You should go be her daughter.” In my previous life, after I refused, she secretly changed my surname behind my back and forcibly sent me to be the housekeeper’s daughter. She told our parents I was just away on a study trip. In the end, she conspired with outsiders to steal all the money from our family. She even poisoned our parents, causing them both to die from the toxins. She even had me kidnapped and taken to the countryside, where she gave me to the housekeeper’s brother as a wife. I was locked in a cellar for three years, enduring inhuman torture every day. After multiple failed escape attempts, I chose to bite off my own tongue and end my life. When I woke up again, it was to Crystal saying: “Sister, why don’t you go be the housekeeper’s daughter?” This time, I clapped my hands in agreement and took the initiative. I absolutely wouldn’t let her have any opportunity to act against me. I pushed her towards the door. “Mom and Dad will be so proud of you. Don’t worry.” “Crystal, oh, I should call you Jenna Johnson now. If you’re not happy with this, why don’t you go find your housekeeper mom and have her take you back to the countryside?” I said with a cold smile. Crystal stomped her foot and walked away. “Ruby, just you wait. I’ll make you pay for this.” So Crystal went to our parents’ company to plead her case. My heart tightened. In my previous life, Crystal had caused our parents to fall gravely ill. Even with their dying breaths, they were still trying to persuade her to face reality. In this life, I was sure our parents would continue to indulge her. But the result was beyond my expectations. Crystal hadn’t even seen our parents before she was kicked out by the security at the front desk. “The CEO said he only has one daughter named Ruby. We’re not to let anyone else see them,” the guard said. I was overjoyed and rushed to find my parents. The moment I saw them, I couldn’t hold back my tears. “Mom, Dad, I’ve missed you so much.” The three of us embraced, and they said, “Ruby, don’t worry. In this life, we’ll definitely protect you properly.” I looked up at them. As I had guessed, my parents had also been reborn. It was a relief. I had been worrying about how to persuade my parents to see through Crystal’s true nature. Now it was settled – the three of us would get our revenge on Crystal together. She thought she had the biggest heart for others? Well, I’d let her be a good person all the way. She could go take care of Mrs. Johnson’s family in the countryside.

Over the next few days, I found fault with everything Mrs. Johnson did at home. I climbed up a ladder to the top of a cabinet, wiped it with my hand, and showed her the dust. “How do you do your job? You can’t even clean a cabinet properly. Maybe you should just pack your bags and get out.” Mrs. Johnson’s legs trembled in fear. Crystal came to support her. “Ruby, what’s wrong with you? Can’t you see how hard Mrs. Johnson’s life is? She’s already so unfortunate, why are you making things difficult for her?” “Oh, is that so? Then why don’t you clean it instead? It’s not strange for a daughter to help her mother, right?” I said indifferently. If I hadn’t lived through another life, I wouldn’t be so harsh on Mrs. Johnson. But now I knew she wasn’t a good person either. She took a high salary from our family, but not only did she slack off and not do her work properly, she also ordered others around. After she left her job in my previous life, she even slandered our family online. She even encouraged Crystal to sell me to their hometown to be her brother’s daughter-in-law. For someone like her, I wanted to tear her to pieces. “It’s okay, I don’t mind working harder. I have a big family to support at home,” Mrs. Johnson said, wiping away her tears. Crystal became even angrier. “Ruby, you’re going too far. We won’t put up with your attitude anymore.” She stepped forward, about to slap me, but I pushed her away first. Crystal was furious. She helped Mrs. Johnson up and said, “Mrs. Johnson, let’s go. We won’t stay here any longer!” “We just renewed Mrs. Johnson’s contract recently. If you leave now, you’ll have to pay a penalty fee,” I said gleefully. “You… Fine, I’ll pay the penalty fee if that’s what it takes,” Crystal said. With those words, I immediately had people pack up Mrs. Johnson’s belongings and throw them out. Why weren’t there any of Crystal’s belongings? Because everything she owned belonged to our family. She couldn’t take a single thing with her. She still clung to her designer bags, refusing to let go. “These are all mine. Why can’t I take them with me?” I went over with a dark expression. “Miss Johnson, have you forgotten? When you bought these things, your surname was Huang. But now, your surname is Johnson.” Seeing that I wouldn’t budge, Crystal tried to appeal to my emotions. “Sister, don’t you remember? I’m your older sister. I watched you grow up. How can you be so heartless to me? Even if my surname is Johnson now, I’m still your sister.” I shook off her hand. “Sister? You mean the sister who gave away my things for free to a bunch of good-for-nothings from childhood to adulthood?” “Or the sister who falsely accused me of stealing?” Once, there was a thief at school who stole many things. To protect her friend, Crystal publicly accused me of being the thief in front of everyone. She even hid her belongings in my schoolbag. I was isolated and insulted by everyone. It wasn’t until later that I found out the real thief was Crystal’s classmate. To protect her, Crystal had lied and said I was the thief. “How can you be so petty? That was so long ago. I just felt sorry for them. You should have some compassion too,” Crystal said, rolling her eyes disdainfully. “Yes, you have the biggest heart. No one’s heart is bigger than yours. So now, please leave,” I said, pointing to the open door. “You… Mom and Dad would never allow you to kick me out. Stop putting on an act,” Crystal said, crossing her arms confidently. The next moment, our parents walked in. “Your mother is that housekeeper outside. Don’t call the wrong person.” Crystal’s eyes widened. “Mom, Dad, how can you be like this too? Didn’t you always teach me to be kind to others?” “We taught you to be kind, but we never taught you to help bad people. Don’t try to pin this on us,” our father said sternly. “What good people or bad people? You’re just prejudiced against them. They’re more pitiful than anyone else. If you won’t help them, I will!” Crystal said angrily as she pushed past our mother and walked out. Crystal took Mrs. Johnson’s hand affectionately and said, “Mom, let’s go. From now on, I’ll be your real daughter.” Mrs. Johnson smiled at her, but for some reason, it sent chills down my spine. I sent a lawyer to claim compensation from Mrs. Johnson for breaching the contract. Crystal probably emptied out all her savings. She sent me a message: [Ruby, just you wait.]

Sure enough, a few days later, Mrs. Johnson posted a video online claiming that we had abused her, treated her as less than human, and humiliated her. When she worked as our housekeeper, she had earned quite a bit of money and gained many followers by bragging about working in a mansion. Now, all her followers began to speak up for her. “Just because you’re rich, you think you’re better than everyone else?” “What’s wrong with a housekeeper working honestly? Why look down on her?” In this life, Mrs. Johnson directly exposed photos of our family and our home address. Many angry people came to throw rotten eggs at our front door. “My dear sister, are you scared now? This is just the first step,” Crystal called me as soon as she saw the online comments. It was clear that she had been the one to suggest this idea to Mrs. Johnson. “Heh, sister, don’t end up outsmarting yourself,” I replied. After waiting for the comments to reach a certain number that evening, I began my counterattack. I registered a new account called “Exposing Housekeeper Johnson’s True Face”. It contained footage from security cameras, recording various scenes of Mrs. Johnson working at our house. She used instant meal kits instead of cooking properly, picked up food that had been licked by dogs and continued to use it, and touched food with her hands right after scratching her bottom. Every detail was enough to make one lose their appetite. The videos she posted online were nothing more than staged performances. And this was just the first step. The tone of the netizens’ comments clearly changed. “Oh my god, I wouldn’t even dare to buy such dirty food from a street vendor.” I then released another video showing how Mrs. Johnson, relying on Crystal’s favoritism, deliberately oppressed the other housekeepers. When we weren’t home, she acted like the mistress of the house, verbally abusing the other housekeepers, bossing them around, and taking credit for their work. “Pah, a lousy housekeeper dares to eat the same food as me? Know your place,” Mrs. Johnson said in the video. This thoroughly angered the netizens.

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After entering college, I ignored the school rules. Gradually, I found that no one in the dormitory remembered me anymore. I screamed loudly in front of them, but they couldn’t hear me; I danced wildly in front of them, but they couldn’t see me. I hurriedly flipped through the group photos we had taken together in our dorm, wanting to prove my existence to them, But I accidentally discovered that there were two people I didn’t recognize standing next to me in the photos… My name is Rachel Lane, and I’m a sophomore in college. With my poor grades, I got into this low-ranking university. After arriving, I felt bored every day. At first, I could obediently follow the school rules and attend classes seriously. Later, I found it meaningless, so I skipped classes every day to sleep and play games in the dorm. That’s how I made it to sophomore year. One day, I got down from my bed to go to the cafeteria for food and found my roommates were all downstairs. I asked if they had eaten, but strangely, no one answered me. I walked away awkwardly. When I came back, I realized I had forgotten my key. So I knocked on the door, hoping my roommate would open it for me. After a while, the door opened. It was Samantha, the head of our dorm. I thanked her. But she seemed not to see me and said to the other two in the dorm, “How strange, someone knocked but there’s no one here.” I thought they were playing a game with me, so I went along with it and said, “Yeah, because I’m a ghost!” Still, no one responded to me. I felt weird and said, “Have you had enough? I admit your acting is very good. Hey!” I raised my voice and shouted at them. Next, I made faces and jumped around in front of them, but they still ignored me. “I suddenly realized that I haven’t seen Rachel all day,” one of them said. “Maybe she’s sleeping up there again. She played games all night last night!” “But she can’t skip meals. I’ll go call her!” Samantha called out to my bed. I climbed up to my bed, thinking that if they couldn’t see me when I actively moved around in front of them, maybe they could see me if they actively came to find me. Samantha pulled open my bed curtain and saw me looking expectant. She couldn’t help but smile. “Get up, it’s time to eat!” Thank God, they could finally see me. I couldn’t help but hug Samantha, forgiving them for their earlier game. But gradually, I found that no one in the dormitory remembered me anymore. I screamed loudly in front of them, but they couldn’t hear me; I danced wildly in front of them, but they couldn’t see me. I confirmed that they weren’t acting, but really couldn’t see me. Only when they actively wanted to find me could they see me. But slowly, even when they wanted to find me, they could barely remember my name… I hurriedly flipped through the group photos we had taken together in our dorm, wanting to prove my existence to them. But I accidentally discovered that there were two people I didn’t recognize standing next to me in the photos…

I was startled. Who were they? Why were they in the group photo with us? I saw a note next to the photo: “303, a family of six!” So, our dorm originally had 6 people! I broke out in a cold sweat. Perhaps two people, like my recent situation, had gradually been forgotten by others, as if their existence had been erased. I walked out of the dorm room and found that my name on the nameplate at the door had faded, as if it was about to disappear. There was a blank space under the words on the nameplate, as if two other names had once been written there. I also noticed places I had never paid attention to before. Throughout the dormitory building, there were 6-person, 5-person, 4-person rooms, and even 1-person rooms. Some dorms seemed to have disappeared, such as rooms 203, 502, and 409, which couldn’t be found. But no one found this strange, including my previous self, as if it was all normal. It seems this phenomenon wasn’t just happening in one dorm, but was widespread! But why was I being forgotten? Why did my other two roommates and some dorms in the building disappear? Suddenly, I looked up and saw a large warning sign in the dorm corridor. It listed the school rules: 1. Always remember your student identity and obey school rules; 2. Each person enters school with 50 initial credits, violating one rule deducts 2 points, severe consequences when all points are lost; 3. After lights out in the dorm, please lie down immediately, close your eyes, and no matter what happens, don’t open them; 4. Wake up at 7 am every day to listen to the principal’s speech in the auditorium, no sleeping or talking during this time; 5. No being late or leaving early for class, no sleeping or talking in class; 6. You can earn 2 credits by doing volunteer cleaning activities for the school; 7. No asking for leave or leaving school, good students persist in attending class even when sick~ 8. If you have any problems, find the counselor, although he may not help you; 9. The higher the grade, the greater the challenges, please be prepared. I recalled the scene of the first day I entered this school when many students saw these 9 rules. But everyone ignored these rules. We’re all college students now, how can we be managed so strictly? Is there any justice? Later, some students did violate these rules, but everyone saw that they didn’t seem to suffer any serious consequences, so gradually everyone became careless, and I was one of them. These school rules posted in plain sight every day were gradually ignored by everyone, but now they seemed very eye-catching on the wall. Combined with my recent experiences and discoveries, perhaps the severe consequences written in the rules were gradually being forgotten, then having one’s existence erased. Previously, people didn’t see any consequences for those who violated the rules, purely because everyone forgot about these people, until they themselves were erased from existence. I opened the school’s official website, which showed that my current credit score was 10 points. So the lower the credits, the closer one is to being forgotten by everyone and finally being erased from existence? I took a photo of these rules, planning to study them carefully back in the dorm.

For the next two days, I studied the school rules while constantly verifying them. Sure enough, as long as I violated the rules, my credits would automatically decrease, as if there was 24-hour monitoring on you. But as long as I followed the rules well, credits wouldn’t be deducted, but they wouldn’t increase either. As my score decreased, besides finding that I was being forgotten by people, many things that could prove my existence gradually disappeared, including photos, nameplates, and even my chat records in other people’s phones. Not only that, but I always heard someone knocking on the dorm door and windows when I slept at night. Then it felt like something was touching my feet, and there was a child’s wail in the distance. I was shaking with fear, but I didn’t dare open my eyes or call out to wake my roommates. Because I knew they could no longer hear my voice. Even if I called for help in any way, they couldn’t see or hear me, and couldn’t save me. I could only remember the rules and keep my eyes tightly closed. I tried to call for help, but I couldn’t remember my parents’ phone numbers or even what they looked like. I called the police, but couldn’t get through. I sent a message to the counselor saying I wanted to ask for leave to leave school, but he wouldn’t approve it no matter what. I was nearly breaking down, but I told myself I had to stay calm. Since I couldn’t get out, I had to ensure I wouldn’t disappear first. Currently, I only had 8 credits left. From now on, I must obey all the rules to ensure I don’t lose any more points, and I must also increase my credits! I went to find the counselor, thankfully he could still see me. I applied for a campus cleaning volunteer activity. He smiled, his mouth corners stretching to his ears, showing all his teeth. I saw some red liquid on his teeth and couldn’t help but shudder. He said unclearly, “Rachel, it’s you again. Not bad, not bad. For so many years, only you have been doing this consistently…” He rambled on about many things I couldn’t understand, and finally let me take the cleaning tools to find Old Joe the gardener. I didn’t have time to think deeply about the strangeness in his words. I grabbed the cleaning tools and ran towards the large lawn at the back of the school. The grass was overgrown here, with only Old Joe cutting it with a sickle. I told him who I was, but he didn’t say a word, just handed me a note that read: Volunteer content: Clear all the weeds and clean up everything that shouldn’t be here. During the volunteer work, no matter what happens, you cannot run away, or points will be deducted! Also, volunteer activities add 2 credits per hour, no more. Looking at my precarious credit score, I had no choice but to brace myself and start working. The activity wasn’t complicated, just very tiring. I kept clearing weeds and picking up trash non-stop. Suddenly I felt like I stepped on something. I looked down and saw it was an arm. My scalp tingled. The further I went, the more human limbs and body parts I found. By now it was dark. To earn more credits, I had been working for 3 hours since class ended. Hungry and exhausted, I started retching at the sight before me. At this moment, Old Joe walked over. His eyes were hollow, looking like a corpse in the moonlight. Then he said to me, “These things that shouldn’t be here need to be cleaned up too. Do it quickly, lights out in your dorm soon.” I stared with wide eyes, trembling as I said, “Joe, what’s going on here? Why not call the police?” Joe replied strangely, “Haven’t you cleaned this before? Don’t ask too much!” Forget it, nothing in this school surprises me anymore. After all, if they can erase people from existence, which is so unscientific, what else wouldn’t they dare to do? I just want to survive well first, then figure out what to do after ensuring I won’t disappear. I held my breath, forcing down the nausea as I cleaned up those things that shouldn’t be there. Before lights out in the dorm, I closed my eyes, but couldn’t sleep. Accompanied by those usual sounds and sensations tempting me to open my eyes, I kept replaying all the bizarre things that happened today. Why did the counselor and Old Joe seem to know me from before, when I had never sought them out before?

For the next few days, even though I was exhausted physically and mentally, I forced myself to wake up on time, obey school rules, and do volunteer work after class. I did 4 hours of volunteer work every day. Finally, after 5 days, I successfully added 40 credits, currently at 48 credits. Just 2 more credits and I’d be back to the initial credit score. Since I only needed to do 1 hour of volunteer work today, I came a bit later. On the 6th day coming to this lawn, it was still the same – cleared the day before, restored to its original state today. I couldn’t help but wonder about the meaning of this cleaning activity. But it didn’t matter, as long as I could add credits. In the evening, I returned to the dorm at 9 pm. My credits were now back to the initial 50 points. I was ecstatic because Samantha could now see me normally and hear me speak. Everything of mine was restored to its original state. My name on the nameplate at the dorm door was also restored. Samantha’s name and mine were on the left and right of the nameplate. Suddenly I thought of something and asked Samantha confusedly, “Samantha, is our dorm a two-person room?” “Hasn’t it always been? We’re almost done with sophomore year and you’re still asking?” she replied. My head hurt for a moment, then I nodded in affirmation. Yes, it’s always been two people. I don’t know why I just asked that. Oh right, there’s something more important! I took out my phone and called the police, reporting the school’s address. But they said there was no such school and warned me not to interfere with their work. What!? Why can’t the school be found outside? I tried to secretly climb over the school wall to escape, but it was useless. The school wall seemed ten stories high, impossible to climb over. I walked to the school gate and through the gaps in the iron bars, I saw that the outside was a blur. The security guards at the gate were tall and strong. Some held chainsaws, some held axes, staring at me with a pair of bloodshot, protruding eyes. I didn’t dare to act rashly. I wanted to ask other students for help, but I found their eyes were all very hollow, completely ignoring me. At this point, I thought of my roommate and quickly ran back to the dorm. On the way back to the dorm, I frowned, thinking, I live alone, where did the roommate come from? I still returned to the dorm. There was only one bunk bed with a desk underneath. I was more certain that only I lived in the dorm.

I still obediently followed the school rules, maintaining my 50 initial points. Since I couldn’t escape, and people outside couldn’t save me, I might as well follow the school rules well and be able to leave when the holiday comes, right? But I remember I haven’t been out for a long, long time. The school seems to have never had a holiday. I just became a sophomore. I went to ask the counselor when we could have a holiday. He still stared at me with that weird look, but there was no choice, the rules said we could only seek help from the counselor. He said unclearly, “No holidays, you’ll degenerate at home, won’t be good students anymore…” I asked again, “Sir, can we only leave after graduation?” He laughed loudly, the sound almost piercing my eardrums. After laughing, he said, “No one can persist until graduation… you degenerates!” I didn’t understand. Does it mean no one can leave? In the end, can everyone only be gradually erased from existence in this school? I must investigate this school well and find a way out. At 7 am, I woke up on time and went to the auditorium as usual to attend the principal’s speech. The content of the principal’s speech was the same every day: “Students, obey the school rules! Students, be good students! Students, listen to classes carefully! Students, …” The principal kept repeating these words, waving his hands as he spoke with great emotion, but his eyes were very small, so small they seemed to have disappeared, and only a mouth was speaking on his entire face. When I noticed this, I instantly broke out in a cold sweat. But every student around me didn’t find it strange. They stared blankly at the principal with hollow eyes. At the end of the speech, the principal suddenly announced that the students present had been promoted to junior year. After that day, I often felt more and more like a walking corpse. Numbly obeying school rules, my mind was in a fog, always feeling like I had forgotten something. I suddenly realized that the longer I stayed in this school, the easier it was to lose consciousness, become numb, and finally forget who I was. This perfectly proved the last rule of the school: the higher the grade, the greater the challenges indeed became as we stayed in school longer, but this challenge seemed to let no one win. The school made those who didn’t obey the rules be forgotten by others, and made those who obeyed the rules forget themselves. It seems that obeying the rules can’t guarantee that I can leave either. Is it destined that coming to this school means we can’t leave and will eventually disappear?

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During the Christmas holidays, my niece cut up my new dress. She looked at me with innocent eyes and said, “Aunt Rachel, I just wanted to make clothes for my doll. You won’t be mad at me, will you?” I handed her a gift: “Good girl, you did well. This is your reward.” Later, she destroyed a dress worth $30,000 at the mall. I hadn’t been back to my parents’ house for two years, not for any other reason, but because I was afraid of my spoiled and domineering little niece. I still remember the last time, when my eight-year-old niece destroyed all my makeup. She used lipstick as a paintbrush, smearing foundation and face cream everywhere. Not only that, but she also grabbed my phone and snatched my collectible figurines from the cabinet. Unable to bear it any longer, I shouted at the child. To my surprise, at such a young age, she played the victim, saying I bullied her. When my brother and sister-in-law found out, they didn’t do anything about it, just saying, “Rachel, your niece is still young, don’t take it personally.” My mom also sided with her little granddaughter: “Instead of buying all that makeup, you should give your niece some pocket money.” That day, I was furious. I didn’t go home for two years out of anger. Before the holidays this year, my mom made several FaceTime calls, promising that she wouldn’t let my niece touch any of my things again. Most importantly, she said she hadn’t been feeling well these past two years and wanted me to keep her company. My heart softened, and I bought a ticket home, taking a two-day train ride to get there.

Having learned from past experience, I locked all my expensive items in a suitcase and kept my phone with me at all times. After my brother and sister-in-law came in with their child, they let her run wild. My niece, who was already ten years old, showed no manners at all. Her first words to my mom weren’t a greeting, but rather she stretched out her hand, looking like she was demanding payment. My mom still smiled and took out some money, praising her: “My little Lily has grown up and become more beautiful.” Lily made a face, stuck out her tongue, and ran away. Sitting nearby, I felt very uncomfortable and said a few words. “Mom, you’re spoiling her too much. Look at her arrogant attitude, it’s clearly a lack of manners!” My mom waved her hand dismissively: “Lily is still young, she’ll get better as she grows up.” “She’s already ten years old, how is that still young? Besides, this is a basic education issue. If you don’t manage it now, it’ll be even harder to manage later.” “We’re all family, why do we need so many rules?” Just then, my sister-in-law Karen came out of the bathroom and heard our conversation. She took a couple of tissues to wipe her hands, then crumpled them into a ball and threw it in front of me. “Rachel, you’re not still holding a grudge about Lily ruining your lipstick last time, are you?” I cleared my throat and said, “Karen, I’m not dwelling on what happened last time. It’s just that Lily is so big now, and she’s a girl. She should be taught manners.” Karen frowned, the lines on her recently treated eyebrows not fully faded, making her look somewhat comical. “What does being a girl have to do with it? You’re a girl too. The internet says those old-fashioned rules are not good. Don’t tell me you’ve become foolish from too much studying.” “Karen, that’s not what I meant. Lily’s behavior really needs to be restrained.” “Our Lily is a good student in her class. We don’t need you to tell us how to educate her.” With that, she grabbed a bag of chips and started eating, giving me a side-eye. I wasn’t annoyed. I took out my chat history with a friend and showed it to my mom: “Mom, my friend is actually Lily’s math teacher. She told me that every child in the class gets a ‘good student’ award.” My mom held back a laugh and patted my thigh: “Well, that proves our Lily is no worse than other kids.” Karen quickly agreed: “That’s right, Rachel, don’t make trouble out of nothing.” What a joke, speaking the truth is making trouble? I was about to say something when my mom patted my thigh again. Fine, there’s no point talking to them. Since that’s the case, I’ll keep quiet.

At the dinner table, my parents, brother and sister-in-law, and a few other relatives were all present. Lily was poking around her plate with her fork, and soon a plate of salad was covered in her saliva. She pouted and threw down her fork: “Hmph, I don’t like salad. I want to eat barbecue.” Karen gave her a piece of barbecue, smiling and coaxing: “Sweetie, try the beef your grandma grilled.” Lily took one bite and immediately spat it out, complaining: “Yuck, it tastes awful. It’s not as good as what you make, Mom.” You should know that my mom and I had been busy in the kitchen all morning, with no one coming to help. Karen sat in the living room eating chips and watching TV, doing nothing, claiming she couldn’t touch water because of her newly done nails. I smiled and moved the plate of barbecue to my side. “Since Lily doesn’t like it, Aunt Rachel will eat it.” Saying that, I distributed the barbecue to the elders. They all praised: “It’s really good.” “Even better than what you get in restaurants.” Karen’s face instantly darkened, and she kept quiet, eating her food. Not long after, Lily insisted on taking my brother’s phone to play games. My brother angrily scolded: “I told you not to play with my phone, why don’t you ever listen!” Karen pounded on my brother’s chest, yelling: “You play on your phone all day, who knows what kind of floozy you’re hooking up with!” “Karen, you’re asking for a beating…” “Come on then, hit me. If you have the guts, hit me to death.” My brother was about to hit her, and seeing the situation was getting out of hand, everyone rushed to mediate. As the two of them argued, hurling insults back and forth, Lily had disappeared. Maybe the little girl was hiding somewhere to play. Anyway, my makeup and phone were all locked up, she wouldn’t be able to find them. The two eventually backed down under the persuasion of the relatives to “talk it out,” and finally quieted down. In the afternoon, after the guests left, I wanted to go back to my room for a nap. When I opened the door, I felt like I was about to explode with anger!

Lily was holding scissors in her hand, and next to her was my new dress, which had been cut beyond recognition. It was originally hanging in the closet, and I was planning to wear it to a friend’s gathering tomorrow. Now it had been cut into a sieve by this little devil. I was so angry I could have ground my teeth to dust. This dress cost me nearly three hundred dollars, and now she had cut it into rags. I clenched my fists, my body shaking with anger. Just as I was about to burst out in a rage, I met Lily’s pair of innocent, bright eyes. She looked up and called me for the first time since coming in: “Aunt Rachel, I wanted to make clothes for my doll. You won’t be mad at me, will you?” As she spoke, she held up the doll she had clumsily stitched together. The fabric of my poor dress had suffered such a cruel fate. I wasn’t resigned, really not resigned. This child, though young, was very manipulative. If I shouted now that she had cut up my dress, not only would I not get compensation and an apology from my brother and sister-in-law, but my parents would also side with her. Seeing that I didn’t speak, Lily tugged at my pant leg, tears welling up in her eyes: “Aunt Rachel, are you angry?” “It’s just a dress, I’ll pay you back when I grow up.” “Aunt Rachel, Mom says you earn a lot of money at work. You wouldn’t make things difficult for a little kid like me, would you?” I smiled. This child was quite good at emotional blackmail. What kind of thoughts had her mother been instilling in her? Since family education couldn’t teach her, let society do it then. Sooner or later, she would pay the price she deserved. I shook my head, picked her up and put her on the bed, took the crooked doll she had sewn, and only praised: “Lily is so clever, this doll is very beautiful, a thousand times better than me.” Saying this, I took out a bill from my pocket. “Lily, your doll is so beautiful, Aunt Rachel wants to reward you with some pocket money.” “Thank you, Aunt Rachel!” Lily snatched the money and ran to the living room, abandoning the doll. “Mom, look!” Lily proudly handed the bill to Karen. Karen was delighted when she saw it. She stroked Lily’s head: “It’s all because Lily is so likable that your Aunt Rachel gave you so much pocket money.” I stood in place, smiling imperceptibly, clutching the doll tightly in my hand.

Two days later, Karen came home crying, followed by my dejected brother and a bewildered Lily. “Karen, what’s wrong? Didn’t you go out shopping?” my mom asked. “Mom, we can’t go on living like this,” Karen sobbed, barely able to catch her breath. “Lily cut up more than a dozen dresses at the mall, and they’re asking us to pay $30,000 in compensation.” As she spoke, she took out a sales receipt from her bag. The price of each dress was over a thousand dollars. I was so shocked I covered my mouth, though actually, my smile was reaching the sky. Serves them right. Let them face the consequences of not disciplining their daughter properly. My mom nearly fainted, at a loss for what to do. She grabbed my hand: “Rachel, what should we do now?” “Sigh,” I said helplessly, “It’s reasonable for the mall to ask for compensation when their clothes are damaged.” “How could you let the child cut up the clothes in the mall?” I frowned, adding a bit of fuel to the fire. My brother was already furious about this incident, and Karen was crying loudly beside him. Unable to contain his temper, he smashed a teacup: “All you know is how to cry! You didn’t watch the child properly, just chatting with others. Now look what’s happened, they want you to pay $30,000!” Karen, unwilling to back down, also smashed a teacup: “You have the nerve to blame me? As soon as we entered the mall, you disappeared. I called you ten times when the incident happened, and you were always on the phone. What exactly were you doing? You know very well!” “I was contacting clients for business. How else do you think we make money to support the family!” “Stop using work as an excuse to fool me. You were just hooking up with that floozy. Don’t think I don’t know.” The two were about to get physical again. I had to pull my mom away to avoid getting caught in the crossfire. Lily, completely unaware that she had done anything wrong, grabbed some cookies from my room and started eating. In the end, I had to step in to resolve this war. Karen had been slapped, her hairstyle was a mess, and her newly done nails were all ruined. My brother was more severely injured, his face covered in bruises, with a black eye and a bleeding nose. I took the sales receipt and said, “Why don’t we ask the police to mediate?” My brother held his head in his hands, his face full of worry: “This is the price they gave after negotiation. The mediation document is right here.” According to my brother, when Lily was caught in the act by the mall staff, Karen immediately threw a tantrum, pulling out several strands of the saleswoman’s hair. After the mall manager called the police, Karen initially refused to admit it was Lily who did it. The police checked the surveillance footage, and the evidence was conclusive. The mall manager took a firm stance, demanding compensation at the original price. I asked Lily, “Why did you cut up their dresses?” Lily raised her little face defiantly and said, “The girls in my class said I have a talent for design. The dresses in the mall were too ugly, so I wanted to improve them.”

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In my past life, my sister insisted on going to the Peak District for an outdoor painting trip. Despite my concerns for her safety, I couldn’t change her mind, so I had no choice but to accompany her. Unexpectedly, we encountered two villagers who tried to force us back to their village. I fought to hold them off, allowing my sister to escape while I was knocked unconscious and taken away. I thought my sister, having managed to escape, would go to the police or tell our parents to come rescue me. But she didn’t. She was afraid of letting our parents know that my misfortune was because of her. So, while I endured humiliation in the depths of the forest, she continued to enjoy her once beautiful life, even receiving more love from our parents because of my disappearance. Years later, when I finally escaped and returned home, I found that my place had long since vanished. A life of illness caused me to die early in my childhood home. But then, I found myself reliving that day when she was about to set off on her painting trip.

“Artists cannot do without inspiration! Sitting at home will never lead to great works! You and Mum and Dad, with your business-minded ways, will never understand!” My sister, Lily Summers, clutched her easel in one hand and her train ticket in the other, defiantly shouting at me. “I’m not trying to stop you from going on your trip, I just think you shouldn’t go to such a remote place.” As I approached her, my previously resigned and indulgent expression suddenly darkened. Lily didn’t notice; she was still throwing a childish tantrum at me. “I’ve finally discovered a place no one has ever been to, and you want to stop me! You can’t stand the thought of me being better than you or becoming famous!” My heart trembled as I took in the scene before me: the youthful and shorter Lily, my own agile legs, and our somewhat old-fashioned home, all conveying one truth. I had returned to the very day my sister wanted to go on her outdoor trip! In my previous life, she had acted just as foolishly, insisting on visiting that desolate area. My pleas had fallen on deaf ears, and in the interest of her safety, I had to force her to agree to let me accompany her. Little did we know that we would soon encounter two locals. The greedy gazes of the two men shifted back and forth between Lily and me as they edged closer. I knew something was terribly wrong. I quickly handed my phone to Lily so she could call the police, while I relied on my limited martial arts skills to fend off the two men. But I was no match for the sturdy farmers, and in her panic, Lily couldn’t even make the call. I found myself pinned to the ground, desperately urging her to run. In that moment, Lily reacted quickly, clutching her easel, bag, and my phone before vanishing without a trace. At that time, I believed she had escaped, and we would both be safe. I fought desperately to stop the two men from pursuing her, only to be beaten unconscious. When I awoke, I found myself trapped in a dark, damp cellar. I couldn’t see anything, only hearing the scurrying of mice, the buzzing of insects, and the chilling laughter of men. I lost track of time in the cellar, but gradually, through the beatings, I learned to disguise and submit. Eventually, I discovered from those men that I had been imprisoned for four years. Four long years, with no one searching for me. I couldn’t understand why. Eventually, due to my extreme submission and my pregnancy, I was allowed to emerge from the cellar. Seven years later, seeing the sun again brought tears to my eyes, and I broke down sobbing. For I saw in the mirror a version of myself I had never known. My filthy, long hair, a swollen body barely covered in rags, emitting the same stench as those men while heavily pregnant. In the following days, under the strict watch of the villagers, I gave birth to child after child. Then, in a daily cycle of resignation, I finally found my chance to escape. I dropped my hoe, ignoring the sounds of my babbling children behind me, and sprinted through the fields taller than I was. Sharp stones cut into my feet, but I didn’t stop; thorny plants pierced my skin, yet I pressed on without slowing. At that moment, I selfishly thought I should have made this mad dash for freedom years ago. After successfully escaping, I encountered kind people in the town who provided food and drink and took me to the police, who then brought me to my parents’ new address. It was a grand detached house with a garden in a thriving city. The house was bright and sunny, with two housekeepers tending to their duties. My sister was barefoot on the lawn, arranging her paintings and occasionally flashing a cute smile at her wealthy boyfriend. But in an instant, that smile turned to panic when she saw me. She clearly hadn’t expected my return. Nor had our parents. After embracing me and weeping, they finally realized I was no longer the daughter they had once been proud of. By then, I was nearing middle age, had given birth to seven or eight children, and bore the weight of illness that made me appear older than my parents. Meanwhile, they had risen from the middle class to the upper class, and even Lily, who had little talent, had opened a small gallery and had a caring wealthy boyfriend. Everyone around me seemed to have a bright future and dignity—except for me. I pointed at Lily and revealed the truth to everyone, telling them how I had ended up in this situation, but years of harsh captivity had left me stammering and incoherent. No one believed me, or perhaps no one wanted to help. My parents continued to believe Lily’s story: that I had gone off travelling without being cautious and had been kidnapped. They thought I was now mentally unstable, which was why I was accusing her. A few days later, they decided to send me back to my childhood home. During holidays, they would only see me briefly, and I could only receive treatment for my illnesses at poorly equipped small hospitals. In the end, my parents tragically died in a car accident. I had no money for medical care. As my health deteriorated, Lily finally appeared before me. Lily, carrying the latest luxury handbag, had brought along the very family that had abducted me and the seven children I had given birth to. She urged me to go along with their ways, to love and be loved by them. Finally, she gleefully confessed, “Mum and Dad are proud of your business talent. They’ve only built their fortune using the resources you left behind. If they knew I was the reason you were captured, they would hate me forever. So, when I escaped, I knew I had to keep them from knowing the truth.” “But I never imagined you would be so clever as to return and expose my lies. Even though no one believes you, just thinking of my fiancé knowing I have a filthy sister like you makes me sick. According to the law, if Mum and Dad unexpectedly die, a portion of the inheritance would go to you! How dare you pollute my life so casually!” As she spoke, she forced my weak hand to sign a waiver of inheritance rights before driving away in her flashy car. I collapsed to the ground, wracked by pain and hatred, crying until my tears ran dry. Little did I expect that when I opened my eyes, I found myself back on the day Lily had insisted on going for her outdoor painting trip.

“I don’t care, I don’t care! I’m going! I have a feeling I’ll find a lot of artistic and life opportunities there!” Lily was still begging me. I snapped back to reality and asked with a semblance of a smile, “Really? Are you so sure?” Lily nodded, pulling out her phone to show me a strong male photographer’s profile, who had taken a stunning set of photos in the Peak District a few years back. He claimed the locals were very friendly, living a simple life far from modern society. Simple? I couldn’t help but snicker internally; it was likely just a façade of “simplicity” for strong men. Lily persisted, urging me to agree. “Just let me go! I have a feeling if I don’t go, I’ll regret it for the rest of my life!” I frowned at her words. “But I really can’t trust you to go alone.” Lily’s eyes sparkled with delight as she realized she had a chance. “You’re just worried you want to come with me…” I interrupted her, “Mum and Dad’s company has something going on today; I can’t go with you, but I can call a few of your friends from college. You’re all studying art; it would be safer for you to go together.” Over the years, I had seen through Lily’s jealousy; it was easy to push her toward despair. Sure enough, Lily’s expression changed, her voice rising, “I don’t want to! I didn’t go out with them during the last training, and their grades are better than mine; they must have laughed at me! I’ve finally found a place they haven’t been to; if I take them, I won’t stand a chance next time!” At that point, Lily’s determination was unwavering: “If you won’t go with me, I’ll go alone! The photographer said the locals are friendly, and if anything happens, I can ask for help. Just don’t tell my friends where I’m going! I won’t forgive you if you do!” With that, Lily ran out the door with her easel, pretending to be afraid I would stop her. I stared at the closed door, feeling defeated, and slumped to the floor, taking some time to collect myself.

I didn’t linger at home; instead, I put on my coat and took a taxi to my parents’ small business, which was still in its early stages. My father, not yet old and never one to show disappointment in me, smiled widely upon seeing me and invited me to sit in his office chair. “Just in time! Help me strategise; is this project worth pursuing?” My hands tightened, my fingertips digging into my skin. Sometimes, I had to admit a harsh truth: they didn’t love me as much as they loved Lily and her friends. Their affection stemmed from my talent for business and the connections I brought to the family company. If they truly loved me, I would at least have the freedom to have my own interests, like Lily, even without talent or excellent grades. “Penny for your thoughts?” Dad nudged me. “Have a look at this.” I glanced down at the tender document in my hands, nodding after a quick scan. “This is a blue-ocean project; I discussed it with a few of my university friends, and they say it has great potential. You mustn’t miss this one, Dad!” In my previous life, he had missed this opportunity, and years later, I returned to find him lamenting the loss. Mum, reviewing the accounts, looked up at me with satisfaction, and I smiled back. I had no intention of letting Lily get away with things, nor did I want them to be happy. I needed this company to pave the way for my future. Dad rushed out to instruct the team to get started, and I followed, giving them some useful direction. When I returned to my office, Mum came over with a smile and peeled a lychee for me. Just as she offered it to me, she suddenly asked, “Where’s Lily? Is she still lazing around painting at home?” I shrugged. “I took a nap, and when I woke up, I was the only one at home. I don’t know where she went.” Mum didn’t doubt my words, but her worry prompted her to reach for her phone to call Lily. However, Lily quickly hung up, refusing to answer. Perhaps she was afraid I would tell our parents, who were trying to bring her home. After a few more failed attempts to contact her, Mum sighed and sent a concerned text before shaking her head, saying, “I was going to ask her to come home early for dinner. Let her be; she probably won’t achieve anything, and it’ll be another outdoor painting trip to the mountains where she’ll just get eaten by mosquitoes.” I nodded in agreement with her assessment. Mum continued, “Later, I’m off to a spa with some friends, and your dad has a social engagement. Can you manage to eat something?” I didn’t care about the double standards; I just smiled at her. “Sounds good, Mum.”

Here’s the translation and localization of the provided passages into a natural and interesting British context: In my past life, my sister insisted on going to the Peak District for an outdoor painting trip. Despite my concerns for her safety, I couldn’t change her mind, so I had no choice but to accompany her. Unexpectedly, we encountered two villagers who tried to force us back to their village. I fought to hold them off, allowing my sister to escape while I was knocked unconscious and taken away. I thought my sister, having managed to escape, would go to the police or tell our parents to come rescue me. But she didn’t. She was afraid of letting our parents know that my misfortune was because of her. So, while I endured humiliation in the depths of the forest, she continued to enjoy her once beautiful life, even receiving more love from our parents because of my disappearance. Years later, when I finally escaped and returned home, I found that my place had long since vanished. A life of illness caused me to die early in my childhood home. But then, I found myself reliving that day when she was about to set off on her painting trip. “Artists cannot do without inspiration! Sitting at home will never lead to great works! You and Mum and Dad, with your business-minded ways, will never understand!” My sister, Lily Summers, clutched her easel in one hand and her train ticket in the other, defiantly shouting at me. “I’m not trying to stop you from going on your trip, I just think you shouldn’t go to such a remote place.” As I approached her, my previously resigned and indulgent expression suddenly darkened. Lily didn’t notice; she was still throwing a childish tantrum at me. “I’ve finally discovered a place no one has ever been to, and you want to stop me! You can’t stand the thought of me being better than you or becoming famous!” My heart trembled as I took in the scene before me: the youthful and shorter Lily, my own agile legs, and our somewhat old-fashioned home, all conveying one truth. I had returned to the very day my sister wanted to go on her outdoor trip! In my previous life, she had acted just as foolishly, insisting on visiting that desolate area. My pleas had fallen on deaf ears, and in the interest of her safety, I had to force her to agree to let me accompany her. Little did we know that we would soon encounter two locals. The greedy gazes of the two men shifted back and forth between Lily and me as they edged closer. I knew something was terribly wrong. I quickly handed my phone to Lily so she could call the police, while I relied on my limited martial arts skills to fend off the two men. But I was no match for the sturdy farmers, and in her panic, Lily couldn’t even make the call. I found myself pinned to the ground, desperately urging her to run. In that moment, Lily reacted quickly, clutching her easel, bag, and my phone before vanishing without a trace. At that time, I believed she had escaped, and we would both be safe. I fought desperately to stop the two men from pursuing her, only to be beaten unconscious. When I awoke, I found myself trapped in a dark, damp cellar. I couldn’t see anything, only hearing the scurrying of mice, the buzzing of insects, and the chilling laughter of men. I lost track of time in the cellar, but gradually, through the beatings, I learned to disguise and submit. Eventually, I discovered from those men that I had been imprisoned for four years. Four long years, with no one searching for me. I couldn’t understand why. Eventually, due to my extreme submission and my pregnancy, I was allowed to emerge from the cellar. Seven years later, seeing the sun again brought tears to my eyes, and I broke down sobbing. For I saw in the mirror a version of myself I had never known. My filthy, long hair, a swollen body barely covered in rags, emitting the same stench as those men while heavily pregnant. In the following days, under the strict watch of the villagers, I gave birth to child after child. Then, in a daily cycle of resignation, I finally found my chance to escape. I dropped my hoe, ignoring the sounds of my babbling children behind me, and sprinted through the fields taller than I was. Sharp stones cut into my feet, but I didn’t stop; thorny plants pierced my skin, yet I pressed on without slowing. At that moment, I selfishly thought I should have made this mad dash for freedom years ago. After successfully escaping, I encountered kind people in the town who provided food and drink and took me to the police, who then brought me to my parents’ new address. It was a grand detached house with a garden in a thriving city. The house was bright and sunny, with two housekeepers tending to their duties. My sister was barefoot on the lawn, arranging her paintings and occasionally flashing a cute smile at her wealthy boyfriend. But in an instant, that smile turned to panic when she saw me. She clearly hadn’t expected my return. Nor had our parents. After embracing me and weeping, they finally realized I was no longer the daughter they had once been proud of. By then, I was nearing middle age, had given birth to seven or eight children, and bore the weight of illness that made me appear older than my parents. Meanwhile, they had risen from the middle class to the upper class, and even Lily, who had little talent, had opened a small gallery and had a caring wealthy boyfriend. Everyone around me seemed to have a bright future and dignity—except for me. I pointed at Lily and revealed the truth to everyone, telling them how I had ended up in this situation, but years of harsh captivity had left me stammering and incoherent. No one believed me, or perhaps no one wanted to help. My parents continued to believe Lily’s story: that I had gone off travelling without being cautious and had been kidnapped. They thought I was now mentally unstable, which was why I was accusing her. A few days later, they decided to send me back to my childhood home. During holidays, they would only see me briefly, and I could only receive treatment for my illnesses at poorly equipped small hospitals. In the end, my parents tragically died in a car accident. I had no money for medical care. As my health deteriorated, Lily finally appeared before me. Lily, carrying the latest luxury handbag, had brought along the very family that had abducted me and the seven children I had given birth to. She urged me to go along with their ways, to love and be loved by them. Finally, she gleefully confessed, “Mum and Dad are proud of your business talent. They’ve only built their fortune using the resources you left behind. If they knew I was the reason you were captured, they would hate me forever. So, when I escaped, I knew I had to keep them from knowing the truth.” “But I never imagined you would be so clever as to return and expose my lies. Even though no one believes you, just thinking of my fiancé knowing I have a filthy sister like you makes me sick. According to the law, if Mum and Dad unexpectedly die, a portion of the inheritance would go to you! How dare you pollute my life so casually!” As she spoke, she forced my weak hand to sign a waiver of inheritance rights before driving away in her flashy car. I collapsed to the ground, wracked by pain and hatred, crying until my tears ran dry. Little did I expect that when I opened my eyes, I found myself back on the day Lily had insisted on going for her outdoor painting trip. “I don’t care, I don’t care! I’m going! I have a feeling I’ll find a lot of artistic and life opportunities there!” Lily was still begging me. I snapped back to reality and asked with a semblance of a smile, “Really? Are you so sure?” Lily nodded, pulling out her phone to show me a strong male photographer’s profile, who had taken a stunning set of photos in the Peak District a few years back. He claimed the locals were very friendly, living a simple life far from modern society. Simple? I couldn’t help but snicker internally; it was likely just a façade of “simplicity” for strong men. Lily persisted, urging me to agree. “Just let me go! I have a feeling if I don’t go, I’ll regret it for the rest of my life!” I frowned at her words. “But I really can’t trust you to go alone.” Lily’s eyes sparkled with delight as she realized she had a chance. “You’re just worried you want to come with me…” I interrupted her, “Mum and Dad’s company has something going on today; I can’t go with you, but I can call a few of your friends from college. You’re all studying art; it would be safer for you to go together.” Over the years, I had seen through Lily’s jealousy; it was easy to push her toward despair. Sure enough, Lily’s expression changed, her voice rising, “I don’t want to! I didn’t go out with them during the last training, and their grades are better than mine; they must have laughed at me! I’ve finally found a place they haven’t been to; if I take them, I won’t stand a chance next time!” At that point, Lily’s determination was unwavering: “If you won’t go with me, I’ll go alone! The photographer said the locals are friendly, and if anything happens, I can ask for help. Just don’t tell my friends where I’m going! I won’t forgive you if you do!” With that, Lily ran out the door with her easel, pretending to be afraid I would stop her. I stared at the closed door, feeling defeated, and slumped to the floor, taking some time to collect myself. I didn’t linger at home; instead, I put on my coat and took a taxi to my parents’ small business, which was still in its early stages. My father, not yet old and never one to show disappointment in me, smiled widely upon seeing me and invited me to sit in his office chair. “Just in time! Help me strategise; is this project worth pursuing?” My hands tightened, my fingertips digging into my skin. Sometimes, I had to admit a harsh truth: they didn’t love me as much as they loved Lily and her friends. Their affection stemmed from my talent for business and the connections I brought to the family company. If they truly loved me, I would at least have the freedom to have my own interests, like Lily, even without talent or excellent grades. “Penny for your thoughts?” Dad nudged me. “Have a look at this.” I glanced down at the tender document in my hands, nodding after a quick scan. “This is a blue-ocean project; I discussed it with a few of my university friends, and they say it has great potential. You mustn’t miss this one, Dad!” In my previous life, he had missed this opportunity, and years later, I returned to find him lamenting the loss. Mum, reviewing the accounts, looked up at me with satisfaction, and I smiled back. I had no intention of letting Lily get away with things, nor did I want them to be happy. I needed this company to pave the way for my future. Dad rushed out to instruct the team to get started, and I followed, giving them some useful direction. When I returned to my office, Mum came over with a smile and peeled a lychee for me. Just as she offered it to me, she suddenly asked, “Where’s Lily? Is she still lazing around painting at home?” I shrugged. “I took a nap, and when I woke up, I was the only one at home. I don’t know where she went.” Mum didn’t doubt my words, but her worry prompted her to reach for her phone to call Lily. However, Lily quickly hung up, refusing to answer. Perhaps she was afraid I would tell our parents, who were trying to bring her home. After a few more failed attempts to contact her, Mum sighed and sent a concerned text before shaking her head, saying, “I was going to ask her to come home early for dinner. Let her be; she probably won’t achieve anything, and it’ll be another outdoor painting trip to the mountains where she’ll just get eaten by mosquitoes.” I nodded in agreement with her assessment. Mum continued, “Later, I’m off to a spa with some friends, and your dad has a social engagement. Can you manage to eat something?” I didn’t care about the double standards; I just smiled at her. “Sounds good, Mum.” That night, I sat alone at home, unboxing a beautifully crafted cake I had bought, complete with a candle on top. I clasped my hands together, and after a few seconds, I blew out the candle. I didn’t wish for anything; I was simply grateful for this second chance at life. As I cut a slice of cake, the sweet flavour danced on my tongue. Just then, I heard wedding celebrations in the neighbourhood, and the sound of firecrackers seemed to cheer my new beginning. Having finished the cake, I checked the time and finally picked up my phone to call Lily, only to hear the message that her phone was switched off. I persisted, trying a few more times, while simultaneously dressing and calling my parents who were busy with their engagements, but to no avail; no one answered. Half an hour later, dressed and anxious, I stood on the street, waiting for Lily’s return. All the neighbours in the area witnessed my efforts.

Lily’s disappearance nearly drove Mum to the edge. At first, she thought Lily was just being wilful and would return in a couple of days. But after half a month, she could no longer deceive herself. I approached Mum, gently patting her shoulder in comfort. “Mum, don’t be too upset. Dad and I have already contacted the police; if there’s news, they’ll let us know.” Although I said this, with society as it was, finding a girl who voluntarily ran off to a remote place would be no easy task. Dad chimed in, “Exactly. Don’t worry too much; Lily usually takes off with some cash for a few days. She’ll probably be back before we know it. Don’t stress out, Summer; you’ve been working hard too. Don’t let her worry about her sister and the company.” Mum pushed me away, pointing a finger at me. “Tell me the truth. Did you two have a fight that day? If she hadn’t argued with you, why would she disappear for so long?” Disappointment washed over me. “Mum, how could you think that? If my sister and I had fought and she had run off in a panic, I would have told you! I love her just as much as you do!” Mum ignored my protests, her hands trembling as she did her nails. “If you loved her, you wouldn’t have let her disappear! Useless. You two don’t care about Lily! She’s only just in her third year at uni and hasn’t experienced the harshness of the world. What if a bad man tricks her?” I stood frozen, remembering how in my previous life, Lily mimicked my mother’s attitude when I had gone missing. Back then, Mum had said, “Summer’s too clever for anything to happen. Maybe she’s off with a boyfriend; your dad’s just worrying for nothing.” “To be honest, aren’t you more concerned about the company’s operations? Lily, don’t follow your dad’s worried face; you’ve both lost weight.” Heh. In the dead of night, I got up to get some water and noticed the study door was still ajar. I stood at a distance, quietly listening to their conversation. “Darling, I have to be honest with you. They’re both different to me. When I had Summer, I was forced by your mum, while with Lily, we were doing well, and I wanted to raise her like a delicate flower.”

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