Author: Momo Chan

When I was seven months pregnant, I went to the baby boutique to pick out some supplies for my unborn child. Peering through the shelves, I froze. My husband, Frank, was leaning over, gently brushing a stray lock of hair from a strange woman’s forehead. “Do you know Mr. and Mrs. Byres too?” The sales assistant asked casually, her head down as she scanned my items. “Honestly, everyone envies Mrs. Byres. They’ve been married for three years, and Mr. Byres has never had a single scandal.” “They were high school sweethearts, and now they have a son and a daughter. They’re the ultimate power couple.” I gripped the edge of the counter, my knuckles turning white. A son and a daughter? A power couple? But the “Mr. Byres” she was talking about was my husband—the man who told me he was an orphan! Seeing my pale face, the sales assistant asked suspiciously, “Do you actually know Frank Byres?” She looked me up and down, her eyes lingering on my cheap, oversized maternity dress. A flash of contempt crossed her face. “If you have any dirty ideas about him, I suggest you forget them.” “Mr. Byres is a devoted family man. He wouldn’t even look at a woman like you.” She shoved the shopping cart forward, pushing me back. I instinctively covered my belly, trembling. Then, I heard her whisper sneeringly to another cashier: “Look at her. Her eyes are practically glued to Mr. Byres. She probably wants to be his side chick.” “With that cheap look, who knows if she even knows who her baby’s real father is.” A side chick? I stood there, paralyzed, unable to speak. Just this morning, before Frank left, he had kissed me gently on the forehead. He told me his company was swamped and asked me to rest at home. But could two people in this world really look so identical? Down to the exact same scar at the corner of his left eye? Frank told me he got that scar from a fall when he was a kid. If he already had a family, a wife, and children… Why did he marry me? Why did he tell me he loved me? He had turned me into a disgusting, cheap mistress in everyone else’s eyes. I wanted to run over and demand answers. I had told him my story. My mother took her own life after being abandoned as a rich man’s mistress. I, Audrey, would rather marry a beggar than ever become someone’s side piece. Why did he lie to me? Suddenly, a wave of dizziness hit me. My foot slipped, and I almost fell to the floor. Hearing the commotion, Frank turned around. His eyes widened when he saw me, and he rushed over. “Audrey! Oh my god, are you okay? Why are you so careless?” Panic was written all over his face. He held me tight, trying to soothe me. But the expensive, tailored black suit he was wearing was definitely not the cheap work uniform he wore when he left this morning. “It’s okay, it’s okay. I’m taking you to the hospital right now.” I grabbed his wrist, my voice cracking. “Frank, are you hiding something from me?” At my words, panic flashed through his eyes. “What are you talking about, babe?” “Did you misunderstand something?” His eyes darted away, but he quickly recovered his composure. “That woman, Mrs. Byres, is just a client. We ran into each other and chatted for a bit.” “I didn’t expect you to see us. It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have let you misunderstand.” “I promise this will never happen again.” Frank looked so sincere, his voice so steady. I looked past his shoulder. The elegant “Mrs. Byres” stood there quietly, showing no intention of arguing. If they were really husband and wife, she wouldn’t just stand there in silence, right? Before I could think further, Frank lifted me in his arms and rushed toward the hospital. Dazed, I remembered that he had held me just like this when we first met. Back then, my mother had just committed suicide. My greedy uncle was trying to force me to marry a creepy sixty-year-old man to pay off his debts. I did everything I could to escape. Frank was the one who rescued me from the rain, paid my hospital bills, and gave me a place to stay. He told me his parents were dead, his relatives had stolen his inheritance, and he was working hard to build a life from scratch. We fell in love in a tiny, cramped rental apartment. Even though he was broke, he was polite and intelligent, and he eventually got a decent job at a firm. I had my doubts, but I never pushed him. Until the day he knelt down with a ring. “I swear to God, Audrey, I will cherish you forever.” He privately arranged our marriage license and took care of all the paperwork. After we got married, he handed his entire salary over to me. Every time he came home, he brought me little gifts—chocolates, pastries, or a single rose. He loved me so deeply. How could it all be a lie? At the hospital, the doctor looked at my ultrasound and wrote a prescription. Then, he smiled at the anxious Frank. “Both mother and baby are fine. She just needs bed rest.” Frank let out a long, ragged breath and gently touched my swollen belly. “Thank God you guys are okay.” He crouched down, pressing his face against my stomach, whispering softly: “Hey, little one, be good. Don’t stress your mommy out.” I saw tears glistening in the corners of his eyes. Frank had been nothing but good to me. He was my savior. I thought to myself, maybe the store clerk was wrong. Maybe she just saw Frank standing next to Mrs. Byres and assumed they were married. I shouldn’t doubt him. Relieved, I went home to rest. But the next morning, right after Frank left, our front door was violently kicked open. I rushed to the living room and saw yesterday’s “Mrs. Byres” walking in with a group of burly men.

Faced with these aggressive strangers, I panicked. The nanny Frank hired to take care of me was so terrified she shrank behind my back. I tried to keep my voice steady. “Mrs. Byres, we don’t know each other. What is the meaning of this?” The elegant woman from yesterday was gone. Today, her eyes were filled with pure disgust. She sneered, and one of her guards stepped forward, pointing at my face. “You shameless bitch, you have the nerve to ask?” “Our gracious Mrs. Byres is here to take you to the estate so you can have your baby there.” I didn’t understand what she meant. I refused politely. “Thank you, but we are strangers. I cannot accept your invitation.” “Besides, I’m heavily pregnant and it’s not safe for me to move. Please leave.” The moment the words left my mouth, the guard slapped me across the face. Smack! “You trashy little mistress!” the guard spat. “Using your pregnancy to guilt-trip us? Are you trying to make Mrs. Byres look bad?” “Mrs. Byres is the only legal wife of the Byres family. Your kid is just a bastard. Don’t think you can compete with her.” I stumbled back, clutching my burning cheek. The nanny caught me before I hit the floor. Nyla Adler smiled mockingly at my misery. She walked over slowly, tilting my chin up with her manicured finger. “How pathetic. Frank hasn’t told you the truth, has he?” “Let me tell you. I am Frank’s real wife.” She told me Frank was the sole heir of the billionaire Byres empire. And she was Nyla, the youngest daughter of the powerful Adler family. Their families had arranged their marriage when they were kids. They were a match made in heaven. Nyla spoke so casually, but my heart sank into a dark abyss. Suddenly, all of Frank’s weird behavior made sense. But no matter what, I couldn’t go with her. I, Audrey, had my pride. If Frank really lied to me, I would rather get an abortion and run away again than stay and be humiliated as a rich man’s plaything. I yelled, “I don’t believe you! I want to ask him myself!” “If you’re his real wife, why are you afraid of letting me talk to him?” Nyla’s face tightened. A flicker of panic crossed her eyes, and she barked, “Tie her up and throw her in the car! Now!” Seeing the guards close in, I screamed at the neighbors who were watching from the hallway. “Help me! Please! I don’t know these people!” “Call the police! Or call Frank! Please!” But the neighbors who usually smiled and helped me carry groceries now just watched with cold, mocking eyes. They gossiped in hushed, disgusted tones. “I knew she was too pretty to be decent. Turns out she’s just a rich man’s side chick.” “And here I was, helping her with her trash because she’s pregnant. How disgusting.” “Mrs. Byres is too nice. If I were her, I’d have beaten this homewrecker to death already.” The guards slammed me onto the floor, pinning my arms behind my back. Hearing the neighbors’ cruel words, a wave of intense shame washed over me. I screamed desperately at them, “You all saw us! We had a small wedding in the backyard! You were there!” “Frank is an orphan! How could he be some billionaire heir?” But nobody listened. “Please! What kind of real wedding has no guests and no priest?” “We all knew Frank looked too noble to be a regular guy.” “You lived with him and never noticed? You were just a kept woman, sweetie. Stop lying to yourself.” My body went cold. Every sweet memory of Frank turned into a mockery. Was everything a lie? In my despair, I saw a familiar figure walking down the street below. It was Beasley, Frank’s colleague. He had been to our apartment for drinks. He could prove my innocence!

I struggled with all my might, screaming out of the window: “Beasley! Beasley! Help me!” Beasley looked up, shocked. “Audrey? What’s going on? Who are these people?” He rushed up the stairs, yelling at the guards holding me, “Let her go!” “What do you think you’re doing to her in broad daylight?” A wave of relief washed over me. I almost cried. “Beasley knows me. He can prove who I am!” I glared at Nyla. “Even if you’re a Byres, you have no right to kidnap me!” “I am not a mistress! Tell your men to let me go!” But Nyla didn’t panic. She smiled at Beasley. “Beasley, what did you just call her?” “I didn’t know you were so brave, defending my husband’s little toy.” Beasley’s face went pale. The anger on his face instantly vanished, replaced by sheer terror. “Mrs. Byres… I didn’t know you were here…” He stepped closer to Nyla, lowering his voice. “Please, don’t lower yourself to her level.” My heart froze. I felt like I was plunging into an icy lake. Frank… Oh, Frank. Did you have terrible friends, or was this a giant trap from the very beginning? Beasley whispered to Nyla, trying to please her: “She’s just a bird Frank kept in a cage. Why bother coming here yourself?” “If Frank actually cared about her, he wouldn’t let her live in this crappy apartment without any security, right?” He pointed at the terrified nanny. “If you just turn a blind eye, Frank will appreciate your generosity. There’s no need to ruin your reputation over a girl like her.” I ignored his insults and asked in a trembling voice, “Is Frank… Frank Byres?” “Is he really married?” Beasley avoided my eyes and nodded slowly. Nyla laughed triumphantly. “Now do you see who you are?” “A cheap mistress trying to raise her voice at me. How pathetic.” I was never a submissive girl. If I were, I wouldn’t have escaped my uncle’s house. I struggled like a wild animal, completely ignoring the pain in my stomach. “I won’t be a mistress! Even if he is a billionaire, I don’t want him!” “I want to hear it from him! If he lied to me, I will leave! I won’t get in your way!” Nyla sneered. “Do you think I’m stupid? You’re just playing hard to get.” “Like it or not, you are coming to the Byres estate today. If you don’t walk, my men will drag you.” The guards lunged at me again. Beasley tried to stop them gently. “Easy on her, she’s carrying Frank’s baby.” A trace of annoyance flashed in Nyla’s eyes, but she waved her hand. The guards gagged me, tied my hands, and threw me into the back of a black SUV. My tears flowed silently. My heart was completely shattered.

The bumpy ride made my stomach hurt. “She doesn’t know her place. Mrs. Byres came personally to fetch her, and she still put on a show,” a maid in the front seat complained. Another maid chimed in, “Once she’s in the estate, she’ll have to serve Mrs. Byres. Once the baby is born, she’ll be kicked out anyway.” “She’s ambitious, though. Claiming she doesn’t want to be a mistress? She’s probably dreaming of Frank divorcing his wife for her.” “Please! She’s just a temporary toy for Mr. Byres.” Hearing their twisted words, my chest tightened, and I could barely breathe. I closed my eyes, letting the tears fall. I don’t know how long passed before the SUV stopped. I was dragged out and pushed into the grand lobby of the massive Byres estate. When I looked up, I saw another familiar face. Frank’s sister. She was here too. Everything became crystal clear. Louise Byres stared at me, frozen in shock. Just last week, she had visited my small apartment, bringing a pile of baby toys. She had patiently explained all the pregnancy do’s and don’ts, saying Frank had asked her to look after me. Back then, Frank told me he was worried because it was my first pregnancy, so he asked his “married friend Louise” to help. Now, all that kindness turned into a knife stabbing my chest. Louise finally snapped out of it. She pulled Nyla aside and whispered angrily: “Why did you bring her here?” “If she stays outside, her baby is just an illegitimate bastard. You have two kids; she’s no threat to you.” “If Frank finds out, he’ll be furious! Send her back!” She was planning for Nyla’s sake. I clenched my fists, hoping she would convince Nyla to let me go. “You misunderstand, Louise,” Nyla said smoothly. “No matter what, she’s carrying Frank’s blood. He belongs in this house.” “If Frank really loves this baby, I can just adopt it and raise it as my own.” Nyla’s words silenced Louise instantly. Louise could only turn to the guards and say weakly, “Audrey is pregnant. Tell them to be gentle with her.” How hilarious. Just like Beasley, she only cared about the baby, but she wouldn’t actually help me. One was his sister, the other his best friend. They had both played me like a fool. I shook with anger. I wanted to rip their hypocritical faces off. Nyla squeezed my chin, her voice cold. “Hear that? I’m doing you a favor.” “Now, let’s go greet Mother.” She ordered the guards to drag me into the main parlor. Frank had lied to me so deeply. He probably wouldn’t save me anyway. Or maybe, this was his plan all along. He knew I would never agree to be a mistress, so he let Nyla do the dirty work to force me into submission. Once I gave up, he would show up, play the loving husband, and beg for my forgiveness. The thought made me lose my mind. I struggled wildly. I bit Nyla’s hand, slammed my head into a guard’s chest, and kicked randomly. “Stop this! What is this chaos?!” A stern, commanding voice rang out, instantly silencing Nyla and Louise. “Mother,” Nyla murmured. A tiny spark of hope flared in my chest. I fell to my knees before the older woman. “Please help me! They kidnapped me!”

The woman standing before me was Frank’s mother, Hillary Byres. She looked elegant, wearing a massive pink diamond ring. “I know who you are,” Hillary said, looking down at me with utter disdain. “Frank’s little plaything.” Her words crushed my last bit of hope. “You seduced my son, keeping him away from his home and his legal wife.” “Nyla was kind enough to bring you here to care for you, and yet you are so ungrateful.” She snorted, and the maids immediately pinned me to the floor. My knees hit the hard marble. “Audrey, I looked into your past. You are the daughter of a mistress. No wonder you have such natural talent for ruining families.” “Normally, you wouldn’t even be allowed in my presence.” “But Nyla is merciful. She felt pity for the bastard in your womb. Do you understand?” Hillary looked at me like I was a piece of trash. I laughed, a sound filled with pure despair. “Do you think I want to be in your disgusting family? I don’t!” “Frank lied to me with a fake identity! You failed to raise your son properly! Your family ruined my life!” “Shut her mouth!” Hillary screamed, slamming her hand on the armrest. “How dare you! Slap her!” Louise jumped in, “Mother, she’s pregnant with Frank’s child!” But Hillary cut her off coldly: “Nyla gave us a son and a daughter. The Byres family does not need a bastard from a trashy street girl!” A heavy slap landed on my face. The maid didn’t stop. The slaps kept coming, burning my skin. Nyla smiled triumphantly. Louise turned her face away. My ears buzzed. I could barely hear anything. Through the haze, someone forced a cup of scalding tea into my hands. “Apologize to Mrs. Byres right now!” The burning pain in my hands brought me back. I sneered and threw the boiling tea straight at Hillary. Hillary screamed as the hot water splashed on her designer clothes. The room fell into chaos. Nyla’s eyes flashed with rage. “You bitch! How dare you attack Hillary!” “Beat her!” The guards grabbed me, but suddenly, one of them froze. “Mrs. Byres… She’s… she’s bleeding.” A sharp, stabbing pain shot through my abdomen. Warm liquid flowed down my legs. My baby… was leaving me? Maybe it was for the best. Without the baby, I would have no ties to this cursed family. “Hillary said it herself! We don’t need this bastard!” Nyla snapped. “She dared to attack the matriarch. If we don’t teach her a lesson, she’ll think she owns this place!” Just then, the double doors were kicked open. “Stop! Touch her and I’ll kill you!” Frank had finally arrived.

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My brother, Pierre, hated me since we were kids. He never let me call him Pierre. He called me a curse, saying I killed his mother. The day I was murdered, I called him crying: “Pierre, please save me. I’m so scared.” He didn’t reply until Helena’s birthday party was over: “I hope you’re actually kidnapped. I hope you die right now.” Then he blocked me. The killer smiled as he slit my throat. Blood splattered everywhere. “Turns out you’re just an unwanted brat. I’ll make this quick and painless for you.” Later, I heard that after my death, Pierre—the brother who hated me most—went completely gray overnight. Pierre once had a perfect, happy family. A beautiful mother, a successful father, and a wealthy household. Everything was perfect. Then, Mom got pregnant. She would stroke Pierre’s hair and say: “Pierre, when you grow up, you must protect Chris.” Little Pierre clenched his fists tightly, taking it very seriously: “Don’t worry, Mom. I’ll love her forever and take good care of Chris!” Dad smiled, and Mom gently patted his head. But everything changed the day I was born.

Mom had a severe hemorrhage during childbirth. It was highly dangerous. She could have survived, but she chose to save me instead. My mom was the heiress to the James Group. She was brilliant, beautiful, and the dream of countless men. But she fell in love with my dad, who came from a poor, small town. They dated for ten years before she finally convinced Grandfather to approve of the marriage. They got married, had Pierre, and built a perfect life that everyone envied. When I was born, I was just a tiny, wrinkled baby. Dad couldn’t accept Mom’s death. He jumped from the seventeenth floor of the hospital, crashing into a bloody mess. And Pierre would stare at me in my crib night after night, trying to suppress the urge to strangle me: “Why did Mom have to die instead of you?”

By the time I was seven, I already knew I was the reason Mom died. So, I spent my life trying to make it up to Pierre. I cleaned his room every day and saved my favorite snacks for him. I saved all the allowance Grandfather gave me to buy Pierre birthday gifts. On Pierre’s birthday, I bought him an expensive toy using the money I had saved all year. He started laughing, but then he began to cry. It hurt to see him like that, so I hugged him tight: “I’m sorry, Pierre. It’s all my fault. I promise I’ll be good to you from now on.” “Mom is dead! How can you ever pay that back?” Pierre pushed me away violently. My arm hit the corner of the table, turning black and blue. Tears streamed down my face from the pain: “I’ll take care of you just like Mom did. Please don’t hate me.” Pierre didn’t say a word. He just went wild, smashing the toy I bought him against the wall: “Stop talking to me! Get out! You don’t deserve to be my sister!” But later, I saw him treasure a cheap, random gift from our cousin, Helena, for years like it was gold. Helena looked a lot like Mom in the old photos. Pierre smiled whenever he saw her. That was when I realized Pierre didn’t hate my gifts. He just hated me.

I started clumsily copying Helena. I dressed like her and talked like her. She would bend down to rescue stray cats on the street, so I did the same. I thought Pierre might like me even a little bit if I did that. But it only made him despise me more. I still remember how coldly he looked at me when I was holding a dirty stray cat: “You just make me sick.” After that, I stopped trying. I went back to being the quiet girl with thick glasses, walking with my head down at school. During my freshman year of high school, a group of popular, mean girls blocked my way in an alley: “Hey, I heard you’ve been clinging to Pierre. How can you be so shameless?” Another girl snickered: “Look at her. She’s so ugly. Where does she get the nerve?” “She’s delusional. She’s living in a fantasy world.” They surrounded me, mocking my looks. I gathered my courage and yelled back: “No! I’m not clinging to him! I’m his sister!” The girls laughed even harder: “We’ve only ever heard of his cousin, Helena. Who the hell are you?” I cried and argued with them. Just as one of them was about to slap me across the face… Pierre suddenly appeared at the entrance of the alley. For the first time in my life, I felt a wave of warmth. Pierre, did you know I was in danger? Did you come to save me? The leader of the girls saw Pierre and casually put her hand on my shoulder: “We saw this girl bothering you, so we wanted to teach her to stay away.” Pierre stood there with his hands in his pockets, looking at me coldly. I shrank back, too scared to speak. But my eyes were wide with hope. He still cares about me, right? But in the next second, my hopes were shattered. The girl next to me asked Pierre: “She says she’s your sister. Is that true?” Pierre’s cold face turned completely dark. He said coldly: “She is not my sister. I’m an only child. I don’t have a sister.” Then, he turned around and walked away without looking back, ignoring my desperate cries. I don’t remember how many times I screamed his name that day. The girls slapped me over and over again. They eventually stripped off my clothes, poured hot candle wax onto my skin, and recorded a video. In the video, my hair was a mess, my face was swollen, and my clothes were torn. They forced me to kneel and call myself a worthless piece of trash over and over.

The video went viral on the school gossip board. Everyone mocked me for being delusional and crazy. I had no family, and no friends to talk to. During that time, I buried myself in my studies. That was the only way I could forget the pain. A few times, I scored top of the class. When I told Pierre, he didn’t even frown. So, I studied even harder. When I received early admission to his university with a full scholarship, I excitedly held out the letter to him: “Pierre, look! I got into your college! We can study together again!” Pierre pushed me aside and pulled a crying Helena into his arms: “You’d better get out of my sight right now.” Helena was an only child. When she was little, she also loved following Pierre around. But Pierre adored her. He always gave her my snacks whenever she visited, and as they grew up, he spoiled her completely. Only later did I find out that the day I got my admission letter, Helena was upset because she did poorly on a minor midterm exam. Helena had posted on Instagram: “When others have nothing to eat, chewing quietly is a form of politeness.” The post was filled with pictures. The first three photos were of Pierre taking her to Disneyland to cheer her up. Disneyland—a place I had only ever dreamed of going. She wore a beautiful dress, sitting on the carousel with a radiant smile. The next three photos showed Pierre buying her tons of expensive clothes. I had actually tried one of those dresses on in secret once, but I had quietly put it back because it was too expensive. The last three were silly selfies of her and Pierre. Once, I had secretly taken a photo of Pierre’s back. But he snatched my phone and deleted everything, not caring if there were important files. I never dared to take a photo of him again. Looking at Helena’s princess-like Instagram, I gave it a like. Soon, notifications flooded in. Her friends commented below: “Wow! Pierre spoils you so much! I can’t imagine how lucky his actual sister would be!” “My only wish for my next life is to be Pierre’s sister!”

On Helena’s birthday, I received an invitation too. I was sitting in a dim cab, rushing to the hotel where the party was being held. The radio was playing the news: “A serial killer remains at large in our city. Please exercise caution when traveling, and avoid going out alone.” It was Helena’s eighteenth birthday, so Pierre threw her a massive party. Even the local media was broadcasting it live. I spent six months of my savings to buy her an elegant hair clip, hoping she’d like it. “Why aren’t you here yet? Helena’s party is about to start.” “I know you’re usually jealous of Helena, but don’t ruin her night, okay?” Pierre actually called me, but it was only to snap at me. A wave of hurt washed over me. Pierre had completely forgotten that today was my birthday, too. “No, the traffic is terrible… I’ve been waiting for a cab for half an—” “Stop making excuses. If you’re late, don’t ever bother coming back to this house.” In the background, I heard Helena’s sweet voice calling his name. Pierre hung up impatiently. It was completely dark. Looking at the traffic, I realized I’d never make it on time. I paid the driver and got out. If I ran, I might still make it. I dashed out and started running. Halfway there, I heard a whimpering kitten in the bushes. It had a broken leg. I slowed down, tore a piece of fabric from my jacket, and gently bandaged its leg. As soon as I finished, I looked up. A man’s face, twisted in a creepy smile, loomed over me. The next second, everything went black.

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My son, Harris, was throwing a massive tantrum in the middle of the store, demanding a $50 box of organic luxury strawberries. There were only twenty in the box. I bit the bullet and bought them. But as soon as we got home, he sneaked off to feed them to our dog. He didn’t even let me taste a single one. With a smug look on his face, he scoffed, “You’re spending my dad’s money anyway. How dare you try to eat my food?” I tried to reason with him, but he just rolled his eyes. “My last name is Schmidt. All the money in this house belongs to the Schmidts. You have no right to lecture me.” When my husband, Daniel Schmidt, came home, he didn’t even bother to correct Harris. Instead, he took the boy’s side immediately. “Harris is so unlucky to have such a petty, calculating mother like you!” Looking at the father-and-son duo ganging up on me, I let out a cold laugh. Yeah. A trash husband only breeds trash kids. So, I walked out. Let’s see how their perfect “loving family” holds up without me.

Over the weekend, I was strolling through Target with Harris when I saw a $30 tote bag. I thought it was spacious enough to carry all of Harris’s extra clothes and snacks for school. But the moment I pulled out my wallet to pay, Harris snatched it from my hand. He glared at me and yelled, “Stop wasting money! You don’t even work. You don’t know how hard it is to make a dollar!” His loud voice drew snickers from the people around us. “What a cute little boy, already knowing how to budget. So responsible!” someone whispered. I didn’t think too much of it at first. But when I reached for my purse again, Harris kicked my shin hard. “I told you, stop wasting my money!” I decided it was better to go home and have a proper talk with him, so I dropped the bag and dragged him out of the store. But on the way home, he saw those luxury strawberries and screamed until I bought them for $50. A few blocks later, he spotted a $200 high-end toy in a storefront window and literally threw himself onto the pavement, rolling around to force me to buy it. “I want it! Chloe has this exact toy at school. I need it too!” Chloe? I thought about it. Chloe was his classmate at preschool—a sweet little girl whose family owned a major jewelry chain. Chloe’s family was filthy rich. They owned several mansions across the city. They only bought a luxury three-bedroom apartment near the preschool just to make her commute easier. Chloe’s parents had achieved financial freedom ages ago. Sending Chloe to this regular preschool was just for her to “experience social life.” For a family like that, buying a $200 toy was like buying a pack of gum. They could build a whole private playground for their kid if they wanted to. But Daniel and I were just average corporate workers living paycheck to paycheck. To save money, I walked two miles to the discount grocery store just to clip coupons. A $200 toy was a luxury we simply couldn’t afford. Without hesitation, I refused Harris’s ridiculous demand. “No, Harris. Mommy and Daddy’s salaries can’t cover this kind of luxury.” “You just got a new toy yesterday. Let’s go home and eat the strawberries!” “How about this? When Mommy and Daddy make more money in the future, we’ll get it for you, okay?” Harris lay flat on the sidewalk, tears streaming down his face as he wailed. “No! I want it now! Chloe has it, so I should have it too!” “Why does she get everything and I get nothing? I hate you! I want it…” I absolutely despised this side of him—throwing tantrums and refusing to stop until he got his way. My blood started to boil. I clenched my fists, trying to keep my temper in check. Daniel didn’t have a college degree. He worked at a tech startup, making barely enough to cover rent. And my former 9-to-8 corporate job had made it impossible for me to take care of a toddler. For years, my parents, Marcus and Sarah, had been supporting us financially and helping me babysit Harris. But a year ago, Harris had said something that broke my parents’ hearts. He said, “Mommy’s parents aren’t my real family.” Even though I corrected him immediately, he had covered his face and stubbornly yelled, “Daddy said so! Daddy said Mommy’s parents are losers compared to Daddy’s parents!” After that, my parents packed their bags and went back to their hometown, completely washed their hands of helping us. To take care of Harris, I had to quit my stable job and take on low-paying freelance gigs just to make ends meet. I walked him to school every single day, rain or shine. And what did I get in return? Now, I just stood there, quietly watching Harris roll on the ground. He was secretly peeking at me to see if I would give in. After ten minutes of his screaming, I got bored. I turned around and walked away. Sure enough, Harris got up and quietly followed me home.

The moment we stepped inside, Harris rushed into Daniel’s arms, crying about how much he missed his “heroic dad.” Meanwhile, I had to follow behind him, picking up his dirty clothes and toys scattered all over the floor. No matter how many times I asked, neither this father nor his son would ever put their dirty laundry in the hamper. Trash on the floor, stains on the table, and constant demands for me to fetch them things… Their pickiness about food was pushing me to my absolute limit. In the scorching heat of summer, the two of them lounged on the couch, eating cold watermelon I had sliced for them, enjoying the AC. While I was sweating bullets in the kitchen, cooking their dinner. When would this life ever end? At 5:30 PM, I set the table and called them to eat. Daniel was glued to his phone, playing mobile games. He glanced at the table and let out a mocking sneer. “This is what you’re feeding us? Are you kidding me?” I looked at the table, utterly speechless. I had made pan-seared steak, lobster mac and cheese, and a fresh salmon salad. This was a high-end meal, and he was scoffing at it? Did he even deserve this? “Kidding you? If you don’t like it, cook it yourself next time.” Daniel crossed his legs and slouched in his chair. “I just made one comment. Why are you acting like a psycho? Are you going through menopause early?” I ignored him, fixed myself a plate, and started eating. I had been working all day, and my head was pounding. After Daniel finished his game, he barked an order, and Harris quickly sat down, waiting for me to serve him. Because of how Harris had behaved earlier today, I purposely ignored him, wanting him to reflect on his actions. But Daniel immediately went on the attack. “Harris, don’t grow up to be like your mother. She’s a useless freeloader who only knows how to stuff her own face.” “Always carrying a resting bitch face. Who are you trying to intimidate?” “You only care about yourself. Can’t you see Harris is too small to reach the plates? Serve him!” “Always so stingy, counting every penny. You wouldn’t even buy him a toy.” “It’s good for a kid to have desires. Why do you always have to crush his spirit?” Harris rested his chin in his tiny hands, looking at his dad with pure adoration. Daniel went on and on, accusing me as if I were some kind of abusive mother. I interrupted him coldly. “The toy Harris wanted cost two hundred dollars.” Daniel choked. He clearly hadn’t expected a toy to be that expensive. He quickly changed the subject to save face. “Oh, so now you’re throwing money in my face? Are you still looking down on me because I don’t have a degree and come from a poor family?” “Let me tell you something, Aurora. This is your life now.” “You’re lucky Harris and I can tolerate a mentally unstable woman like you.” Harris wiggled his arms, looking at Daniel with puppy dog eyes. “Chloe has that toy. Why can’t I have it? I’m a boy! It’s not fair!”

A boy? Since when did Harris start believing that being a boy made him superior? Did Daniel’s mother, Amanda, brainwash him with that garbage? I realized I needed to have a serious talk with Harris. This mindset was toxic. Daniel took a sip of his beer. “It’s all your grandma Sarah’s fault. She’s stingy. If she gave us more money, we wouldn’t have this problem.” Harris nodded in agreement. “Yeah! Grandma Sarah is a bad person.” Slap! I slapped him across the face. “Sarah is the one who took care of you since you were a baby! Don’t you dare enjoy her love and then call her a bad person!” Harris was stunned. He clutched his cheek, his eyes wide with shock. “Daddy said Grandma Sarah is trash compared to Grandma Amanda! Mommy, you hit me!” “I don’t want you to be my mommy anymore!” Daniel shoved me back. “Have you lost your mind? Taking your anger out on a kid!” “Harris is a boy! He’s the one carrying the Schmidt legacy! Sarah should be throwing money at him!” “Do you even know who your real family is? Harris and I are your family!” “You asshole!” I gasped. He suddenly looked like a stranger to me. It was that horrifying realization that the person you loved had turned completely rotten. Seeing the disgust in my eyes, Daniel slammed his hands on the table, flipping it over. Hot oil and food splattered all over my clothes. “Harris is so unlucky to have a petty bitch like you for a mother.” “Harris is right! Sarah is trash compared to Amanda!” Harris, completely oblivious to the gravity of the situation, cheered. “I don’t want Mommy anymore!” “I don’t want a stingy mommy! I want Chloe’s mommy to be my mommy!” Looking at the two monsters standing in front of me, I felt a strange sense of calm. I looked at the mess on the floor, then looked up at Daniel. “Let’s get a divorce.” “Daniel, I’m done. We’re finished.” Daniel marched over to the drawer, grabbed our marriage certificate, and threw it at my face. “Anyone who backs out is a chicken shit!” We drove to the city hall immediately. Even when we got the divorce papers finalized, I still couldn’t believe how easy it was to cut ties with a toxic person. Daniel held Harris, sneering at me before driving off without even looking back. But when I returned to the apartment to pack my things, Daniel was sitting on the couch, rolling his eyes. “Who are you trying to scare?” “You can’t survive a week without me and Harris.” “When you realize how good you had it, maybe I’ll let you marry back into the family.” I kept my head down, quietly packing my suitcase. This time, I was playing for keeps. I wanted to see how long they would survive without their free live-in maid.

Dragging my suitcase, I embarked on my first solo trip in eight years. No, this wasn’t just a trip. This was my rebirth. I booked a one-way ticket to Bangkok, Thailand, and spent my days surrounded by gorgeous, attentive cabana boys. In the past, I would have thought, I need to keep my distance from other men. I have to be a loyal, modest wife. Now? Screw Daniel. I had a handsome, muscular young man slice my steak and pour my champagne, feeding me directly from his hands. Looking at their perfectly sculpted abs, I realized my mouth was watering way before my tears could even form. Back then, Daniel had won me over by delivering cheap breakfast to my dorm every morning. And yet, he was the one who ended up treating me like garbage. I opened my phone camera. The woman in the screen was glowing, her eyes bright with a spark that had been dead for years. This is what money and freedom feel like. Suddenly, I understood what my older sister, Kristy, had told me years ago: “A woman should never keep a man in her heart.” Back then, I had argued with her, thinking she was some radical feminist. I believed in equal love, in building a nest together. Kristy had sighed and corrected me. “I want your heart to be free of men, Aurora. That doesn’t mean your bed has to be empty.” I had frowned, thinking she was just cold and didn’t understand true love. How pathetic, I thought. But now, I realized she was a genius. I hit the record button on Snapchat, capturing a video of myself laughing as two handsome guys fed me grapes. “I’m officially free! No Daniel, no Harris. I’ve never been happier!” “I gave everything to that house, and in the end, my own son looked down on me.” “He called me a petty mother. He said I didn’t deserve to spend his father’s money.” “If I could go back eight years, I would have run away from him.” “Instead of wasting my youth being a free, unappreciated nanny.” “Now, Daniel is trash to me. And honestly? Screw Harris too.” I posted the video to my public story. At the very end, I showed my divorce papers and the custody agreement where I had waived my parental rights. To get the divorce quickly, I had agreed to leave with nothing. We didn’t own the apartment anyway, and his beat-up car wasn’t worth anything. Signing away custody in exchange for zero child support obligations was the best bargain of my life. After posting, I called Kristy. “Kristy, I did it. I’m divorced. I’m single.” “You always said spending money on men brings bad luck, which is why you never lent me money to support Daniel. I get it now.” Ding. My phone vibrated. I looked down. Kristy had sent me $50,000 via PayPal. “Kristy, I gave up custody of Harris too.” Ding. Another $50,000. I quickly accepted the transfers, feeling the warmth of my sister’s love. “Let me know if you need more. When you’re done partying, come work at my company,” Kristy said before hanging up. Kristy had started her own tech company after college, and it had recently gone public. Lately, she was preparing to acquire a smaller tech startup—the very startup Daniel worked for. With a suddenly massive bank account, I felt like a brand new woman. Had those eight years of being locked up in Daniel’s “love” really been worth it? I got nothing but wrinkles, insults, and a shattered self-esteem. Maybe Daniel did love me once, but he used that love, my responsibility for Harris, and my moral guilt to keep me under his thumb for eight years. Without Daniel backing him up, Harris would have never dared to treat me like that. I promised myself I would never think about those two again. But they forced their way back into my mind because my casual Snapchat video went viral.

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I was known as the ultimate black sheep among CEOs in our industry. While other companies treated interns like disposable, cheap labor, I did the exact opposite. I fought against the entire board’s objections. I made sure every single intern received one-on-one mentorship, paid training, housing stipends, and even fully reimbursed Uber rides for late-night overtime. The internship program was running incredibly well. But just as I was planning to expand it, a heavily edited audio clip went viral on TikTok and YouTube. They took my words completely out of context, spinning a narrative that I was only “fattening up” the interns now so I could ruthlessly exploit them later. Overnight, public opinion turned against me. The very people who had benefited from my generosity became my fiercest enemies. The office walls were spray-painted with the words: CAPITALIST LEECH. Standing in the main conference room, I opened a file that no one in the company expected me to have. And every single one of them was left utterly speechless.

Sandra Miller, our CFO, placed the Internship Program Budget Proposal on my desk. “Elena, are you absolutely sure you don’t want to reconsider this?” I didn’t say a word. Sandra flipped the budget sheet to the very last page. “For this batch alone—thirty-seven interns—between mentor fees, base salaries, housing stipends, and health insurance, we’re looking at nearly eight hundred thousand dollars. Elena, that’s practically our entire net profit from last year.” I finally looked up. “Sandra, our net profit last year was 1.2 million. I already cut this budget down from one million to eight hundred thousand. Some of our executives are mentoring on a volunteer basis, and we’re housing them in the company’s vacant corporate apartments. I’ve done the math. The actual out-of-pocket cost isn’t that high.” Sandra sighed, pushing the document a little closer to me. “Elena, I’m not saying it’s a bad program. I’m saying our current cash flow can’t support this level of charity.” Charity. Hearing that word sent a sharp, familiar ache through my chest. It brought me right back to my senior year of college. The December wind cut through the streets like a knife. I remembered wearing a thin, cheap black blazer and tight heels that blistered my feet, walking from office to office just to hand out my resume. An HR manager at one company had literally shredded my resume right in front of my face. He told me, “Ivy League Master’s grads are lining up for unpaid gigs. You’re a state school grad, and you actually expect a paycheck?” So, the moment I became my own boss, the very first thing I wanted to change was the toxic internship culture. Sandra didn’t argue. She knew that this eight hundred thousand dollars wasn’t just a budget line. It was my personal crusade. She hesitated. “The board… they might not back you on this.” I swept the file into my desk drawer. “I’ll handle the board. The internship program officially launches next Monday.”

At 9:00 AM on Monday, all thirty-seven interns gathered in the main conference room. I stood before them. “Welcome to the company. Starting today, you will begin a three-month paid internship. During this time, each of you will be paired with a dedicated mentor for one-on-one guidance. Your wages will be set at 120% of the industry average. We will also provide housing stipends, health insurance, and fully reimbursed Uber rides if you ever have to work late.” A sudden wave of whispers washed over the room. Some stared at me with wide eyes. Others turned to exchange skeptical glances. A few were quietly muttering that it sounded too good to be true. I waited a few seconds, then smiled. “I only have one requirement: learn fast, and work hard.” The thirty-seven interns were split across seven departments. I had handpicked every single mentor myself. At first, the mentors struggled to adapt. Marcus Gallagher, our Tech Director, complained privately to Sandra. “It takes me three years to properly train a junior developer. Now she wants them ready in three months? Elena is living in a fantasy world.” But it didn’t take long for Marcus to change his tune. By the second week, the intern assigned to him had independently coded an entire software module for their weekly review. The code was so clean that Marcus thought he was looking at a senior developer’s work. At the next weekly management meeting, Marcus couldn’t hide the pride in his voice. “The kid is a natural. I’ve only been coaching him for two weeks, and his coding habits are already cleaner than some of my mid-level developers.” The other departments soon reported similar successes. The marketing intern pitched a campaign strategy that the client approved on the spot. The design intern created a poster series that won first place in our internal design competition. The product intern compiled a user research report with data analysis so sharp it looked professional. I kept track of all these small victories in a little leather notebook. Every night before bed, I would flip through the pages. The program was succeeding beyond my wildest dreams. I decided it was time to scale up the initiative. But that was exactly when the trap snapped shut.

I was woken up by my phone vibrating violently. The sky was barely gray. I swiped the screen. Forty-seven missed calls. My Snapchat and messages were absolutely blowing up. I tapped on a voice note sent by Jane Vance, our HR Director. “Elena, have you looked at YouTube or TikTok? Someone leaked a voice recording of you from our executive meeting. It’s trending everywhere. PR is trying to contain it, but it’s spreading too fast!” I opened TikTok. The video already had over thirty million views. It was just an audio track set against a backdrop of heavily edited, unflattering security footage photos of me from the conference room. They made me look like an angry, greedy tyrant. I pressed play. My voice came through the speaker: “…The interns? It’s fine if we invest heavily in them early on. We feed them, we get them nice and fat, and once they sign those full-time contracts, we can handle them however we want. You have to understand—the more a person feels you’ve invested in them, the harder it is for them to ever leave you.” The clip cut off abruptly. The comments section was an absolute toxic wasteland. [So this is Elena Sterling, the supposedly ‘ethical’ CEO? Wow. The mask slipped fast.] [I knew those housing stipends and paid training were too good to be true. There’s no such thing as a free lunch in capitalism.] [Ex-employee here. I always felt something was off. No boss is that nice to interns unless they’re raising pigs for slaughter.] [Boost this, guys! Make this corporate vampire famous!] I threw my phone face down on the bed and closed my eyes. The recording was real. But it had been sliced to pieces. The first part of my original statement was actually me screaming at a department manager who had been treating interns like modern-day slaves. I had chewed him out for ten straight minutes. The second part was me explaining how we could retain top talent by actually investing in their career growth and showing them we cared, creating a mutual bond of trust. But in the edited version, my anger at the bad manager was gone. My explanation was gone. Only those few sentences remained, twisted into a malicious confession. It was a brilliantly executed hit job. I got up to wash my face. As I was brushing my teeth, Jane called again. “Elena, we traced the leak. The audio came from inside the office. The security cameras and the audio recording systems are on separate networks. Only the eight people in that executive meeting had access to the raw files…” With the toothbrush still in my mouth, I interrupted her. “I know.” “You know?” “The circle of people who could get that audio is tiny. Don’t panic, Jane. I’ll see you at the office.” I hung up and looked at myself in the mirror. My hair was a bit messy, my eyes were slightly bloodshot, but my expression was perfectly calm. I whispered to my reflection: Elena, just because you want to do something good doesn’t mean everyone wants to see you succeed.

The moment I stepped into the office lobby, the young receptionist looked at me, her eyes brimming with tears. She stood up as if to say something, but choked on her words and sat back down. I gave her a gentle nod and kept walking toward the elevator. When the elevator doors slid open on our floor, I was greeted by three-foot-high, dripping red letters spray-painted across the white hallway wall: CORPORATE VAMPIRE. The paint was still wet, running down the wall like blood. I stood there, staring at those words for ten long seconds. I heard footsteps behind me. It was Jane and Zach Carter, our Legal Counsel. Zach spoke first. “Elena, I’ve already contacted the police. This is vandalism and clear defamation—” “Don’t worry about the police yet,” I cut in. “Just take photos for evidence and leave it. If we make a huge scene now, the internet will just say we’re trying to intimidate people and cover our tracks.” Jane bit her lip. “But Elena… three interns already submitted their resignations this morning. And two of our full-time staff just quit, too.” “Which interns?” “Lily Evans, Tyler Brooks, and Chloe Martinez.” I paused. I remembered all three of them. Lily was from last year’s batch. She had performed beautifully and had transitioned to a full-time role just three months ago. Tyler was one of our newest hires. And Chloe… she was also from last year’s batch, and she was already leading her own sub-projects. I really hadn’t expected Chloe to quit. I sighed. “Hold their resignation letters for now. Follow standard company protocol—thirty days’ notice for transition. Don’t make it hard on them, but don’t give them special treatment either. Just go by the book.” I walked into my private office, closed the door, and opened my laptop. The internet was in an absolute frenzy. It wasn’t just the audio clip anymore. People were digging up fake “dirt” about me. There were posts claiming I withheld overtime pay, used the internship program to scam the government for tax write-offs, and even rumors that I was sleeping with one of the female interns. Every claim came with “evidence.” But when I looked closely, it was all fabricated. The post about withheld overtime pay showed a pay stub that didn’t even have our official company logo, and the formatting was completely wrong. But in the court of public opinion, facts didn’t matter. When a hate mob gets going, truth is always the first casualty. I leaned back in my chair, closed my eyes for a moment, and made a decision. I picked up the desk phone and dialed HR. “Jane, prep the main conference room. 10:00 AM. I want an all-hands meeting. Everyone, including the interns.” “Elena, some people online are talking about protesting outside our building. Should we—” “No need. Just run business as usual.” I hung up, opened my bottom desk drawer, and pulled out a thick, heavy manila envelope. It was stuffed to the brim. I didn’t open it. I just placed it on the desk. I had been compiling this file for three months. I had planned to reveal it at our annual company gala as a massive surprise for everyone. But it looked like the surprise was coming early.

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Five years into my marriage with billionaire Ethan Carter, we still didn’t have a marriage license. He told me it was a strict rule in his family—no signing the marriage license until we had a baby to secure the family trust. Five years had passed, and I still hadn’t gotten pregnant. I always thought it was my fault. But a sudden, random check by our insurance clerk shattered my entire world. Ethan had already signed a marriage license—with Serena Miller, his first love. I drove to his office, my heart in my throat, desperate for an explanation. But through the cracked door of his office, I heard him talking to his friend: “I’m never having a baby with Vivian. And I’m definitely not signing a marriage license with her. I had a vasectomy years ago.” “Everyone in high society knows Vivian as my wife. I’ve given her the social status of Mrs. Carter. That’s enough. The only thing I can give Serena is this marriage license. It’s what I owe her.” What Ethan didn’t know was that five years ago, I made a promise to his mother. If I couldn’t produce an heir within five years, I would leave him. And now, there were only three days left.

“What do you mean, my husband is already legally married?” “We’ve been married for five years. We just… haven’t finalized the legal paperwork yet. You must have made a mistake.” I looked at the insurance clerk standing in my living room, her face solemn. I was still desperately trying to convince myself this was a ridiculous error. “I’m so sorry, Mrs. Carter—or rather, Ms. Sterling. We checked the public registry for your joint spousal policy. Mr. Ethan Carter is legally married to a woman named Serena Miller. Do you know her?” The polite smile on my face instantly froze. How could I not know that name? Serena Miller was the girl Ethan could never get over. Years ago, Serena left the country to pursue her dreams in Europe. Under pressure from Ethan’s mother, they were forced to break up. That was how I got the chance to stand by Ethan’s side. I knew Serena had returned to New York a few weeks ago, but I hadn’t thought much of it. On the day she landed, Ethan had confessed to me. “Vivian, I failed Serena back then. It was because of my family that she ended up marrying a toxic guy abroad and got abused. Now she’s back, and I just want to help her out, like family. Please don’t overthink it.” At the time, I was touched by his honesty. I generously told him I didn’t mind. But the moment the clerk left my house, I lost my mind. I grabbed my car keys and drove straight to the Carter Group headquarters. I needed to hear the truth. The employees all recognized me, so I walked straight to the executive floor without any interruption. Just as I reached the door of Ethan’s private office, I heard voices coming from inside. “Ethan, what the hell are you playing at?” It was his best friend, Marcus. “Five years ago, you threw a multi-million dollar commitment ceremony with Vivian but refused to sign the marriage license, claiming you needed a baby first. And now, you secretly went to City Hall and married Serena?” There was a long silence before Ethan’s cold, smooth voice echoed through the door. “I’m never having a baby with Vivian, Marcus. And I’m definitely not signing a marriage license with her. I had a vasectomy years ago.” “For five years, I’ve been waiting for Serena to come back.” “Everyone knows Vivian is my wife. I’ve given her the lifestyle, the title of Mrs. Carter. But the only thing I can give Serena is this piece of paper. It’s what I owe her.” Hearing those words, my chest tightened so hard it felt like my heart was being ripped out. I couldn’t even breathe. So, it was all a setup from the very beginning. Five years ago, right after Serena left, Ethan came to me and proposed. He said we could have a lavish wedding, but we couldn’t register the marriage license yet. He claimed the Carter family had a strict rule: an heir must be born before the wife is legally registered into the family lineage. Ethan knew how madly in love with him I was. He knew I wouldn’t say no. On our wedding day, I thought I was the happiest woman alive. I wore a custom white gown, standing next to the man I had adored for years. In the five years that followed, I never got pregnant. But I didn’t think it mattered because to the rest of the world, I was the undisputed Mrs. Carter. Still, I wanted to make it official. For five years, I went to countless fertility clinics. I endured endless rounds of IVF, took heavy hormone pills, and stabbed my stomach with painful needles every single day, vomiting until I was empty. But nothing worked. I thought my body was broken. I blamed myself constantly, remembering how fragile my health was as a child. Never in my wildest dreams did I imagine that Ethan had gotten a vasectomy before we even stood at the altar. No matter how many needles I took, no matter how much pain I endured, it was all a joke. “Ethan, you’re playing with fire here,” Marcus warned. “I’m not,” Ethan replied with absolute confidence. “Even if Vivian finds out, I’ll just buy her some jewelry and sweet-talk her. She’s too obsessed with me to leave. Besides, she already has the title she wants.” My hands shook violently outside the door. But what Ethan didn’t know was that five years ago, his mother made me sign an agreement. If I couldn’t produce an heir within five years, I had to pack my bags and walk away. And there were only three days left.

Five years ago, when Ethan first proposed to me, his mother, Helen Carter, paid me a private visit. “I don’t particularly like you, Vivian, but you’re at least from a decent background, unlike that gold-digger Serena. I stopped Ethan once, but I can’t stop him a second time,” Helen had said, her voice dripping with aristocratic disdain. “But let me make one thing clear. If you don’t have a baby within five years, and Ethan still refuses to sign your marriage license, you will pack your bags and leave him on your own. Deal?” Without hesitation, I had agreed. For me, just being able to stand beside Ethan was a dream come true. Every girl has a secret crush, and Ethan was mine. I had quietly chased after him for years, even when I knew his heart belonged to Serena. “Mrs. Carter? What are you doing here?” Ethan’s secretary suddenly walked up behind me, her voice breaking my trance. The movement outside caught the attention of the people inside. The office door swung open instantly. I looked up and met Ethan’s furrowed brows. A minute later, the office was cleared. It was just the two of us. “How much did you hear?” Ethan asked, his voice guarded. “Everything,” I said, my voice surprisingly flat. “I know you legally married Serena.” I didn’t bother playing dumb. “Since you know, I’m asking you to keep Serena out of this. It was my decision, not hers,” Ethan said, stepping closer, his tone turning into one of arrogant reassurance. “Don’t worry. To the public, you will always be Mrs. Carter.” I stood there, feeling a profound, chilling sadness wash over me. “Didn’t you tell me last week she was like family to you?” Faced with my question, Ethan remained silent. “So, tell me, Ethan. Between Serena and me… who is the actual mistress here?” “Serena is not a mistress!” Ethan snapped defensively. If Serena wasn’t the mistress, then who was? Me? The woman who had lived with him as his wife for five years? Ethan looked into my eyes, but he couldn’t hold my gaze. He looked away, his guilt quickly morphing into anger. “Enough, Vivian! I told you, you keep the title of Mrs. Carter. Isn’t that enough for you? Stop being so dramatic!” “Ethan, do you have any idea…” Just as I was about to tell him about the agreement I made with his mother, his phone rang. It was a custom ringtone. One he only used for her. He picked it up, and a sweet, whiny voice echoed through the speaker. “Babe! When are you coming home? I really want those cupcakes from the bakery near our old college campus. Can you go buy some for me now?” “Of course, sweetie. I’m leaving right now,” Ethan’s voice softened instantly into a tone he had never used with me. “Will this affect your work? I don’t want to get in the way.” “Never. Nothing is more important than my wife.” He hung up and grabbed his coat. As he walked past me, he seemed to finally remember I was still in the room. “Vivian, drop the attitude. I promise you, the title of Mrs. Carter will always be yours.” With that, Ethan turned and walked out, slamming the door behind him. I was left standing in the empty office. A bitter wave of tears finally spilled over, and I couldn’t stop them. I didn’t even remember how I walked out of that building. My body felt like an empty shell, hollowed out of all life.

Five years of self-deception. Five years of agonizing fertility treatments. Countless needles that left my stomach bruised, and hormone pills that made me vomit daily. All of it became a hilarious joke in the face of Ethan’s words: “I had a vasectomy years ago.” I didn’t go back to the penthouse we shared. Instead, I drove straight to the Carter Estate. Helen Carter was sitting in the grand living room, elegantly trimming imported roses. When she saw me walk in alone, her brows furrowed in annoyance. “Why are you here at this hour? Where is Ethan?” “He went to be with his legal wife,” I said, my voice dead calm. Helen’s hand slipped. A sharp rose thorn pricked her finger, but she didn’t even flinch. She looked up at me, eyes wide with shock. “What did you say?” I took a printed document from my bag and tossed it onto the glass coffee table. It was the registry search result showing Ethan’s active, legal marriage to Serena Miller. “Mrs. Carter. Or maybe I should just call you Helen,” I said, a faint smile playing on my lips. “Five years ago, I promised you that if I couldn’t have a baby in five years and Ethan refused to sign our marriage license, I would leave. Well… time is up.” Helen’s face flushed with a mixture of emotions. Although she had always looked down on my lack of an elite family pedigree, she couldn’t deny that I had taken flawless care of her son for five years. More than that, she never expected the submissive, quiet Vivian to speak to her with such cold defiance. “Vivian, you…” Helen opened her mouth, a brief flicker of guilt crossing her eyes, but it was quickly replaced by the cold calculation of a high-society matriarch. “Since you brought up our agreement, the Carter family won’t send you away empty-handed. However… my father-in-law’s 80th Birthday Gala is in three days. The entire New York elite will be there.” Helen sighed, her tone softening into a manipulative plea. “Grandpa Charles’s health is failing. He cannot handle any shocks. For his sake, and for the reputation of the Carter family, you must attend this gala as Ethan’s wife.” “Once the gala is over, you can leave. I won’t stop you.” I looked at the calculating woman in front of me, the last spark of warmth in my heart completely dying out. To the very end, all they cared about was their precious reputation. “Fine. I’ll play along for one last show,” I agreed instantly. Helen let out a massive sigh of relief. She immediately gestured to her assistant, who handed me a pre-written check. The amount was staggering—a multi-million dollar payoff. “Think of this as your severance package. Consider it my personal compensation to you.” I took the slip of paper, holding it lightly between my fingers. The smile on my face deepened. Helen thought she was buying my silence with a few million dollars. She had no idea that as the sole heiress of the Sterling Group, I could buy ten Carter estates with a snap of my fingers. I took the check only because it was the perfect, ironic receipt to close out the last five years of my humiliating devotion. I turned and walked out of the estate. As the cool night breeze hit my face, I felt lighter than I had in years.

The night before the gala, a heavy, suffocating silence hung over our penthouse. Ethan came home late. When he took off his shoes, his movements were unusually quiet. My behavior over the last few days had thrown him off. I hadn’t cried, I hadn’t screamed, and I hadn’t sent him a single angry text. This sudden loss of control made him anxious. He was used to me worshiping the ground he walked on. He walked over to the sofa and slid a velvet Cartier box onto the table. “It’s a limited-edition high jewelry necklace,” he said, his voice carrying his usual arrogant tone of charity. “Serena’s health is fragile, and she’s been through a lot. I only gave her the marriage license to protect her and give her a sense of security. Just be a good girl, Vivian. To the world, you are the only Mrs. Carter.” I looked at the sparkling diamonds in the box and felt absolutely nothing. Years ago, a single red rose from him would have made me cry with joy. Now, this multi-million dollar necklace only made me sick. But I didn’t blow up. Instead, I picked up the box with a gentle smile. I even stood up and reached out to adjust his silk tie, my fingers lightly grazing his neck. My touch was as gentle as it had been every morning for the past five years. Ethan relaxed, thinking I had succumbed to his wealth once again. He grabbed my hand, his grip tightening. “I knew you’d understand. Make sure everything goes smoothly at the gala tomorrow.” I smiled softly, my voice barely a whisper. “Don’t worry, Ethan. Tomorrow, I will play the part of Mrs. Carter perfectly.” The next evening, the Carter Estate was glittering with lights. The driveway was lined with Bentleys and Lamborghinis as the city’s billionaires, politicians, and socialites arrived for Grandpa Charles’s 80th Birthday Gala. Ethan, dressed in a bespoke Tom Ford tuxedo, walked in with me on his arm. I was wearing a stunning, backless crimson gown. The moment we entered, all eyes were on us. Ethan smirked, his ego thoroughly massaged by the envious stares of his peers. At the peak of the night, Grandpa Charles was helped onto the stage. He took Ethan’s hand and mine, smiling warmly. “Tonight is not just my 80th birthday. It also marks the fifth anniversary of Ethan and Vivian’s marriage. Vivian has been a blessing to our family. Tonight, as an anniversary gift, I am officially transferring 10% of Carter Group’s core shares to her!” The crowd erupted into applause. Helen’s face went stiff, but she had to force a polite smile. Ethan looked at me with deep, performative affection, as if we were the perfect power couple. But just as Grandpa Charles picked up the pen to sign the transfer document, the grand double doors of the ballroom were violently slammed open! A swarm of paparazzi and reporters rushed into the hall, their camera flashes blinding the crowd. And leading the press pack was Serena Miller, dressed in a tragic, flowing white dress, her face pale as a ghost. Suddenly, the giant projector screen behind the stage flickered. High-definition photos of Ethan and Serena kissing, cuddling, and entering luxury hotels filled the screen. The reporters instantly swarmed the stage, shoving microphones into Ethan’s face. “Mr. Carter! Are you having an affair? Has your wife been kept in the dark this entire time?” “Ms. Miller, are you trying to destroy a marriage? Are you his mistress?” Faced with the barrage, Serena burst into tears and held up a certified document. “I am not the mistress! I have our legal marriage certificate right here! I am Ethan Carter’s legal wife! Vivian Sterling is the actual homewrecker who stole my place!” The room fell into a dead, suffocating silence, followed by a wave of furious whispering. Grandpa Charles shook with rage, pointing a trembling finger at Ethan. “What… what is the meaning of this?!” Ethan’s face went completely pale under the flashing lights. He looked at Serena, then at me. Under the immense pressure of his family’s reputation and the live cameras, Ethan made a split-second decision to protect his beloved. He took a deep breath and spoke directly into the microphones. “Serena is telling the truth. She… is my legal wife.” With that single sentence, he officially branded me a mistress in front of the entire city. Ethan turned to look at me, his eyes pleading, silently begging me to play along and help him clean up this mess. But I just smiled. It was a radiant, breathtaking smile, entirely devoid of pain. I slowly opened my luxury clutch, pulled out a thick envelope of documents, and took the microphone from the stand. “Don’t worry about signing those shares over to me, Grandpa Charles,” my voice rang clear and steady through the speakers, echoing in every corner of the ballroom. “Since the legal Mrs. Carter has come to claim her title… I think my part in this play is officially over.”

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When I was being mutilated by illegal organ traffickers, my husband was in the hospital, gently wiping down his childhood sweetheart’s body. Right before I died, I dialed his number with my blood-covered hand. The call went through, but he only let out a cold sneer. “Finally ready to admit you’re wrong?!” “Just admit it, Clara! Your petty jealousy triggered Chloe’s heart attack! I am so sick of your constant tantrums. Unless you die, I will never forgive you!” The next second, he hung up. In pure despair, I closed my eyes forever. The next day, my husband was desperate to find a compatible heart for Chloe’s transplant. Luckily, he secured one. On the third day, as a forensic pathologist, he received a dismembered, unidentified Jane Doe from the police. But no matter how hard he examined the body, he couldn’t find her heart. The day after I died, Ethan finally managed to buy a heart through his black-market connections. He immediately scheduled the transplant surgery for Chloe. At the same time, the police delivered a newly found, dismembered corpse to the morgue. It was handed over to Ethan. Detective Carter said angrily, “The killer was a monster. How could anyone do something so brutal?” Ethan didn’t say a word. He just stared at the remains on the table. Suddenly, he let out a soft frown, picked up a brain tissue sample, and began examining it closely. When he finally stopped, Detective Carter quickly asked, “Did you find any clues?” Ethan furrowed his brows. “It’s been at least two days since she died, but there’s still some unusual cellular activity in the brain.” “This means the victim was tortured brutally before her death. Also… her heart is missing from these remains.” Ethan’s eyes flickered as he spoke. Detective Carter gasped and immediately turned to the officers behind him. “Hurry! Search the entire city! This is a major clue. Even if you have to dig up the whole town, find that missing heart!” “Dammit, the feds just launched a crackdown on organ trafficking, and these bastards still dare to do this? To murder someone so brutally… they have absolutely no respect for the law!” Then, he looked at Ethan with concern. “Ethan, I heard you and your wife had a fight?” A look of pure disgust flashed across Ethan’s cold face. “Don’t bring her up. She made Chloe suffer so much. It’s better if she just rots out there.” Hearing his words, my ghostly soul still felt a sharp, stabbing pain. He was still blaming Chloe’s heart attack on me. Detective Carter apologized, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to pry. It’s just that two days ago, your neighbors saw a strange car entering the neighborhood on security footage. That was the exact night Clara walked out after your fight.” “We’ve checked the surrounding areas. No one else is reported missing except your wife. Have you tried calling her to check in?” After a brief silence, Ethan’s frown relaxed, replaced by a mocking smirk. “Clara is just petty. She can’t stand me caring about anyone else. This isn’t the first time she’s thrown a tantrum. Every single time, she eventually crawls back and begs for my forgiveness. This time, she’s just trying to show me some pathetic display of her resolve.” “Detective, your focus should be on this brutal murder. A trivial matter like Clara doesn’t deserve your time.” Hearing this, Detective Carter swallowed his words. He shook his head, sighed, and went to deploy his team. I let out a bitter, ghostly laugh. I used to think our past arguments would make him realize my frustration. But now I saw the truth. To him, my pain was just a clown’s performance.

Ethan buried himself in the autopsy room. To reconstruct how my body had been dismembered and my organs harvested, Ethan worked for two days straight without sleep. It wasn’t until a pounding headache hit him that he finally stopped. Just then, his phone rang. It was the HR representative from my company. “Hello, is this Ethan? Clara has been MIA for three days now. If she doesn’t show up tomorrow, we’ll have to terminate her employment.” Ethan sneered, “She’s always been irresponsible. On top of that, she has violent tendencies. Go ahead and fire her. It’s for the best.” “Well, could you try to contact her for us? Her phone keeps going straight to voicemail…” “Sorry, I don’t have time. If she doesn’t go to work, just fire her.” Ethan added coldly, “And make sure she’s blacklisted. You wouldn’t want someone like her threatening the safety of your company anyway.” “…” The call disconnected. Detective Carter walked over. “Ethan, you should go home and get some rest. And call your wife. You two are married. You need to communicate to make things last.” Ethan wanted to refuse, but the sharp pain in his temples made it impossible to continue working. He reluctantly agreed. On the drive back, he opened his phone and glanced at his call logs. At the very top was Chloe’s number, saved under the contact name “My Sweetheart.” Looking at that name, I couldn’t help but laugh at myself. He claimed to be obsessed with autopsies, yet even at the precinct, his mind was entirely focused on Chloe’s recovery. As for my last call, it was from three days ago. That day, Ethan had brought Chloe to our house. He had called me in advance to ask when I would be home. I had bought him a luxury watch he had been eyeing for a long time. To surprise him, I lied and told him I was working late. But the moment I unlocked the front door, I saw the two of them passionately kissing in the living room. Their clothes were half-off, tangled up in each other. Furious, I grabbed a heavy broom near the door and swung it at Chloe. But before I could even touch her, she collapsed to the floor, gasping for air. Ignoring my tears and questions, Ethan immediately called an ambulance and rushed her to the hospital, where she was diagnosed with a sudden heart attack. That night, Ethan stormed back home to yell at me. He blamed me, saying that if I hadn’t scared her, Chloe wouldn’t have almost died. But he was completely blind. I hadn’t even touched his mistress. She had collapsed from the sheer excitement of their own cheap affair. In a fit of rage, I walked out of the house. And I never made it back. Ethan’s finger hovered over my name on his screen. Surprisingly, he tapped it. I held my ghostly breath. Before I died, I had set up an emergency voice message on my phone and thrown it into the bushes with all my strength.

As long as the killers hadn’t found and destroyed my phone, Ethan would know I was dead the moment he called. But after a few seconds, he swiped his finger to cancel the call. He let out a cold smirk. “Playing hard to get again, Clara? Let’s see how long you can hold out before you come crawling back to beg.” “But even if you get down on your knees and beg Chloe for forgiveness this time, I won’t forgive you.” I smiled bitterly. He had no idea that I was already dead. Even if I wanted to apologize, I couldn’t. And why did he think his affair was so justified? He used my heart to save his mistress, yet he expected me to apologize to him indefinitely. I had tolerated him for too long, letting him stomp all over my dignity without a shred of respect. I screamed at him in rage, but he couldn’t hear me. Soon, Ethan arrived at the hospital. In the private suite, I saw a pale, fragile Chloe. Seeing Ethan, her eyes lit up. She tried to reach out to him but accidentally tumbled from the bed, coughing violently. Ethan rushed forward, catching her in his arms. He didn’t care about the spit and grime on her hospital gown as he gently lifted her back onto the bed. Watching this, a familiar ache pierced my dead heart. During our marriage, Ethan barely let me touch him. I always thought he had a severe case of OCD and hated physical contact. But now, looking at how he held her, I realized his OCD was selective. He just didn’t want to touch me. Ethan gently wiped Chloe’s mouth and said softly, “I’m sorry, Chloe. A brutal murder case came up at the precinct, and I had to focus on the investigation.” Chloe sighed. “If even you—the legend of the forensics department—find it difficult, I can’t imagine how horrific the case must be.” Hearing this, Ethan told her everything about the autopsy. When he mentioned that the victim’s heart was missing, Chloe instinctively touched her own chest. “Ethan… do you think… it could be the one inside me?” Ethan froze for a second, then pulled her into a tight hug. “Don’t overthink it, Chloe. The world isn’t that small. Besides, I obtained this heart through legitimate medical channels. It can’t possibly belong to that victim.” Chloe nodded happily, believing his lies. “Okay. If it weren’t for you, I’d be dead. I’ll believe anything you say.” Ethan smiled tenderly, nodding. They stared into each other’s eyes, dripping with affection. Then, a shadow of worry crossed Chloe’s face. Ethan asked, “What’s wrong, Chloe?” “Your wife is terrifying. We were just hugging after not seeing each other for so long, and she tried to kill me.” “Why did you even marry someone like her? Will she come back to hurt me again?” Ethan’s face darkened with anger. “She’s just a petty, narrow-minded woman who can’t stand me having any contact with you. But don’t worry, it won’t happen again. I won’t let anyone hurt you.” Chloe’s eyes lit up. “Ethan, does that mean…” After a few seconds of silence, a look of resolve settled in Ethan’s eyes. “Once she comes back, I’m divorcing her.” “Really?!” Ethan looked at Chloe with pure adoration and nodded. Then, they leaned in for a deep kiss. When they pulled apart, Ethan pulled out his phone, found my contact info, and deleted it without hesitation. I stood there, dazed. He was actually divorcing me for Chloe. Our three-year marriage had officially come to an end. But since I was already dead, he would probably be thrilled. At least he wouldn’t have to go through the legal hassle of a divorce. Suddenly, Ethan’s phone rang. He whispered a few comforting words to Chloe before stepping out of the room to answer it. Detective Carter’s urgent voice came through the speaker. “Ethan, have you heard from Clara yet?” Hearing my name, Ethan frowned. “Detective, this is my personal life. I—” “I’m not trying to meddle in your marriage, Ethan,” Detective Carter interrupted, his voice grave. “We just got a lead on the victim’s missing heart.” “And it’s highly likely connected to your wife, Clara.”

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I have been secretly married to my billionaire husband for six years. He has never been willing to reveal my identity or our son’s to the public. During a kindergarten family day, he became “Daddy” in another child’s eyes. My son clutched his activity card, standing frozen. He whispered, “Mommy, why can Uncle Ethan be that boy’s daddy, but not mine?” I didn’t answer. I just walked into the principal’s office and signed his transfer papers. I decided to get a divorce and take my son away forever. This time, no matter how much Ethan regrets it, my son and I will never look back. “Mrs. Vance, the transfer papers you requested are ready.” “Are you sure you want to finalize this now?” The principal sat behind her desk, looking at me with a hint of hesitation. Outside the window, bursts of laughter from the playground drifted into the office. Today was Pre-K Family Day. Just moments ago, Leo was standing by my side, eagerly staring at the entrance. Until Ethan Carter showed up. Before I could even react, a little boy rushed into his arms, looking up and shouting, “Daddy!” Ethan leaned down, patiently wiping the sweat from the boy’s forehead, and scooped him up into a warm hug. Chloe Jenkins stood beside them. The three of them looked exactly like a picture-perfect family. Meanwhile, my son stood next to me. He watched the scene in a daze, his tiny hands tightening around his activity card until the paper crumpled. After what felt like an eternity, he looked up and whispered, “Mommy, why is Uncle Ethan being someone else’s daddy?” At that moment, the words choked in my throat. I simply turned around and walked into the principal’s office. “Process the transfer now, please.” “Mrs. Vance, if you want to think about it for a bit longer…” “There’s no need.” I picked up the pen and signed my name on the final line of the form. My name was the only one on that line. It had always been just me. I handed the form back to the principal. “Also, please keep this confidential. I don’t want anyone to know about Leo’s transfer until we actually leave.” The principal stared at me for a moment before finally nodding. “Alright. I understand.” The moment I stepped out of the office, I ran straight into Ethan and Chloe. Ethan was my boss, and more importantly, the father of my child. Seven years ago, I was his executive assistant. After a wild, drunken night, we ended up having a baby. This year marked the sixth year of our secret marriage. It was also the sixth year he forced our son to call him “Uncle Ethan.” Ethan had one hand around Chloe’s waist while the other held the little boy’s hand. The scene was so sweet it burned my eyes. As we crossed paths, I couldn’t help but speak up. “Ethan…” He stopped in his tracks, his expression instantly turning icy. “Miss Vance.” His polite, distant tone carried a sharp warning, as if reminding me: *We aren’t close.* I understood his silent threat perfectly and swallowed my emotions. I let out a bitter, silent laugh. I had actually wanted to ask him to spend one last birthday with our son. But what was the point? He wouldn’t care anyway. My phone screen lit up. It was a text from my son’s smartwatch. [Mommy, did you tell Daddy to come home for my birthday tonight?] I froze, instinctively looking back. I saw Ethan leaning down, gently talking to Chloe’s son. The tenderness in his eyes was unmistakable. Swallowing the bitterness in my throat, I sent Ethan a text message anyway. [Today is Leo’s birthday. You promised you’d celebrate with him tonight.] I saw Ethan pick up his phone. He glanced at it for less than three seconds, set it back down, and showed absolutely no reaction. Staring at the silent chat screen, I smiled mockingly at myself. *Nora, what are you still expecting from a husband whose heart belongs to another woman?* I slid my phone back into my pocket, took a deep breath, and walked away. *Ethan, soon enough, you’ll only have one son left.*

I walked to the classroom door and picked up Leo. The moment he saw me, he ran over and excitedly grabbed my hand. “Mommy, today is my birthday! Can I finally call him Daddy tonight?” Standing in the middle of the crowded hallway, tears welled up in my eyes. “Your dad…” Before I could finish, my phone buzzed. Ethan had finally found the time to reply. [I’ll be home tonight.] I stared at the message for a few seconds, my heart completely numb. This would be the last time. I locked my phone, looked down at Leo, and said softly, “Daddy said he’ll be home tonight.” Leo’s eyes instantly lit up, his voice bursting with pure joy. “Really?” I nodded, forcing a smile. “Really.” That evening, I cooked a table full of his favorite dishes. Leo finished his homework early. He sat on the couch wearing his party hat, checking the front door every few minutes. At 7:00 PM, Ethan wasn’t home. At 8:00 PM, there was still no sound at the door. By 9:00 PM, the food on the table had gone completely cold. I sent text after text, asking where he was. But just like always, there was no reply. Leo seemed to realize what was happening. He looked at me timidly. “Mommy, is Daddy not coming back?” I walked over, pulled him into my arms, and gently stroked his hair. “I’m so sorry, baby.” Leo shook his head, obediently holding up his birthday hat. “Mommy, can you help me put it on?” I nodded. But as I reached for the hat, my eyes caught a new Instagram notification from Chloe. [Such a wonderful day. He took me and my baby out for a candlelit dinner. ❤️] Attached was a photo of a high-end restaurant. Even though his face was cropped out, I instantly recognized the wedding band on the man’s hand in the corner of the photo. It was the ring we had picked out together when we got married. How ironic. On his own son’s sixth birthday, he was having a romantic candlelit dinner with his mistress. I tapped the “like” button and put my phone down. I turned back and placed the birthday hat on my son’s head. “Happy birthday, Leo.” Under the warm glow of the single candle, Leo closed his eyes and folded his hands. “My birthday wish is to stay with Mommy forever.” I snapped a photo of him with my phone to capture the moment. “Okay. Mommy promises you.” That night, neither of us mentioned Ethan again. Once Leo fell asleep, I pulled out the divorce papers I had prepared beforehand from the drawer. The last shred of hesitation in my heart completely vanished. At 2:00 AM, Ethan finally came home. Seeing the half-eaten cake on the table, a flicker of guilt crossed his eyes. “Sorry, I lost track of time.” I almost laughed out loud. I had sent him dozens of texts. Did he really not see them? Or did celebrating another boy’s birthday make him forget everything else? I flipped the divorce papers to the signature page and handed them to him, trying to keep my voice steady. “Sign this…” Before I could finish, Ethan’s phone rang. Chloe’s panicked voice echoed through the quiet house. “Ethan, Mason has a fever. He won’t stop crying and keeps asking for you. I don’t know what to do…” Ethan stood up instantly, anxiety written all over his face. “Hold on, I’m coming right now.” Hanging up, he didn’t even look at what I handed him. He just scribbled his signature on the bottom line. I stepped back into the shadows and silently watched him rush out the door. *Ethan, you’re the one who abandoned this family.* *From now on, Leo and I will never wait for you again.*

The next day, Ethan came home and handed me a beautifully wrapped gift box. “A birthday present for Leo.” I looked up at him, took the box, and opened it. Inside was a remote-control car. I froze. Not because the gift was expensive, but because I had just seen this exact toy on Chloe’s Instagram story last night. Her caption had been: *He didn’t like it. Played with it for two minutes and threw it away.* So this was the “makeup” birthday gift Ethan brought for Leo. Giving his own biological son a toy that another woman’s child had discarded. I casually tossed the box onto the side table. My tone was flat. “Thanks, but he doesn’t need it.” Ethan gave me a strange look, but then he remembered something else. “One more thing.” “Mason had a fever last night, and Chloe can’t handle it alone. I’m planning to bring them here to stay for a few days until he gets better.” I stared at him, unable to believe my ears. “You mean you’re bringing Chloe and her son to live in our house?” Ethan’s expression was completely casual. “It’s just temporary. Just a few days.” “The kid is sick. He needs someone around.” I stared at him, feeling a cold shiver run down my spine. “What about Leo?” “Mason has a fever. Aren’t you worried he’ll pass it to Leo?” For once, Ethan hesitated. But he quickly came up with a thoughtless solution. “That’s why I want you to take Leo to a hotel for a few days.” “Once Mason is fully recovered, I’ll bring you both back.” I found it incredibly laughable. “Ethan Carter.” “Do you even hear yourself?” He frowned, seemingly annoyed by my reaction. “Nora, don’t be unreasonable.” “I’ll have my assistant book a nice hotel. I’ll cover all the expenses.” I suddenly burst into laughter. Even now, he actually thought I was upset about the cost of a hotel. I didn’t want to look at him anymore. “Fine.” “I’ll pack our bags and leave with Leo as soon as possible. We won’t get in your way.” Since we were leaving anyway, doing it a bit earlier made no difference. He opened his mouth, his tone softening slightly. “It won’t be long.” I didn’t look up. I just remained silent. I packed our suitcases and led Leo toward the door. But the moment I pushed the door open, I ran right into Ethan bringing them in. He was wheeling Chloe’s suitcase with one hand while holding her son in his other arm. When our eyes met, I saw a flash of panic in his eyes. Chloe gasped dramatically. “Nora? What are you doing here?” Hearing her, I immediately pulled Leo behind me, blocking his view. “I—” “They are my relatives. They’re just staying here temporarily,” Ethan cut in before I could speak. His grip on the suitcase handle tightened. It wasn’t the first time he had denied me, but every single time, it still felt like a knife twisting in my heart. Just as I was about to speak, Leo beat me to it. “Hello, Uncle Ethan.” I turned to look at my son in disbelief, only to see his eyes brimming with tears. “Mommy, let’s go,” Leo whispered. All my words choked in my throat. I squeezed his hand and replied softly, “Okay.” As we brushed past them, Ethan grabbed my wrist.

His grip was incredibly tight. “Nora.” “Did you teach him to say that on purpose?” I smiled, finding his anger deeply ironic. “Didn’t you say it yourself? In public, he is only allowed to call you Uncle.” Six years of secret marriage. Ethan hadn’t just hidden our relationship from the public. What was even more pathetic was that Leo was only allowed to call him “Daddy” on his birthday. Every year, seeing Leo so excited for his birthday just so he could call his own father “Daddy” broke my heart. I looked down and tried to wrench my hand free, but his grip didn’t budge. Ethan stared at me, his eyes filled with a complex emotion. “Give me a few days.” “I’ll explain things to Leo.” I reminded him coldly, “Chloe is waiting for you. Let go.” As if suddenly waking up, Ethan reluctantly released his grip. I let out a cold laugh and turned to walk away with Leo. But Ethan suddenly called out behind us. “Wait.” He ran back to his car and brought out a cake box, holding it out to me. “Leo, happy birthday.” Chloe chimed in right on cue. “Ethan originally bought this cake for Mason, but the poor thing has a fever and can’t eat anything.” “Your son might as well have it.” The cake in my hands suddenly felt like it weighed a ton. I wanted to throw it back at them, but then I saw the faint spark of hope in Leo’s eyes. He asked timidly, “Uncle Ethan, is this really for me?” Ethan gave a brief nod. Leo finally showed his first smile of the night. He pulled my hand, dragging me toward the living room. “Mommy, open it quick!” I silently untied the ribbon and opened the box. The very next second, my hands froze. Right in the center of the frosting, written in neat letters, was: *Happy Birthday, Mason!* The air in the room instantly turned ice-cold. The smile on Leo’s face slowly froze and crumbled. He stared at the words for a long time. When he finally spoke, his voice was barely a whisper. “Mommy… this isn’t my cake, is it?” My throat tightened, and my fingers began to tremble. Chloe gasped, covering her mouth as if she had just noticed. “Oh my god, how could the bakery forget to change the name?” I didn’t say a word. Because I knew very well that the bakery hadn’t “forgotten.” From the very beginning, this cake was never meant for Leo. Leo slowly lowered his head, his voice cracking. “I don’t want it.” “I don’t want things that other people threw away.” With that, my son buried his face deep into my chest, refusing to look at Ethan again. Without a second of hesitation, I picked up my son and walked out. Even as we walked out of the villa, I could still feel Ethan’s panicked, apologetic gaze on my back. But this time, neither my son nor I felt a single thing.

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On the eve of our wedding, the yacht my fiancé was on capsized. He was officially declared dead. I cried until I almost passed out. Reeling from grief, I walked onto the street in a daze and was hit by a speeding car. As my life slipped away, I heard my fiancé’s best friend making a phone call: “Ethan, you need to get back from Switzerland right now! Chloe just got into a horrific car accident!” The sound of a glass shattering came through the line, followed by my sister’s whiny crying: “Ethan, you promised you’d stay in Switzerland with me for a year! You can’t leave!” It turned out my fiancé wasn’t dead. He had faked his death just to run off to Switzerland and be with my sister, Lily. When I opened my eyes again, I was back to the very day Ethan “died.” Two weeks later. The news of my engagement to Julian Harrington, the sole heir of the Harrington empire, spread like wildfire through high society. Luke, the “loyal” friend who had helped Ethan orchestrate his fake death, rushed over to confront me, his face pale with anger. “Chloe, Ethan just passed away! How could you be so desperate to throw yourself into another man’s arms?” I looked at him, my voice cold and dry. “He’s dead, Luke. Am I supposed to rot in a grave with him, or am I allowed to actually live my life?”

The words of that phone call from my past life were burned into my soul. Dragging my legs, which felt like lead, I followed my raw instinct that the truth was waiting for me. I walked toward the glass conservatory in the backyard of the estate. The glass door was slightly ajar. Inside, a voice I knew all too well drifted out, dripping with casual amusement. “Is my funeral over yet?” The voice was coming from Luke’s phone on speaker. “Not yet, Ethan,” Luke replied with a chuckle. “How’s Chloe? She hasn’t suspected anything, has she?” Luke laughed. “Not a chance. She’s running herself ragged organizing your memorial. Yesterday, she almost fainted from crying so hard. She’s probably locked in her room weeping right now.” Ethan’s tone was entirely dismissive. “Good. Do me a favor and comfort her a bit.” Another friend, Mason, chimed in. “Seriously though, Ethan. You must really be head over heels for Lily. Faking your own death just to chase her to Switzerland? You even made us play along with this crazy stunt.” It was word for word, exactly like the conversation from my previous life. I gripped the cold iron railing outside the greenhouse so hard my knuckles turned white. My entire body trembled with rage. I heard Ethan speak again: “Mind your own business about my feelings. Just make sure she doesn’t find out.” Luke asked, “So, are you still going through with the wedding when you get back?” “Of course. Once I return, the wedding goes on as planned. But before I tie myself down, you’ve got to let me have one last wild ride for true love, right?” “Haha, true. Once you’re married, you’re locked down. No more freedom. Enjoy it, man!” The three of them laughed, a sickening, conspiratorial sound. My blood turned to pure ice. I had prayed a thousand times for Ethan’s survival in my past life, but I never imagined the truth would be this disgusting. In my past life, I died in the depths of this despair. But this time, I didn’t barge in to scream at them. I turned around quietly and walked away from the greenhouse. In the bathroom, I dry-heaved into the sink for what felt like hours. I looked at the woman in the mirror. I hadn’t slept in days. My eyes were bloodshot, my face pale and hollow. I splashed freezing water onto my face and wiped away the tear stains. This time, I would not be their puppet. When I walked out of the room, Luke handed me some tissues, his face a perfect mask of sympathy. “Chloe, don’t be too hard on yourself. Ethan is looking down on you from heaven. He wouldn’t want to see you like this.” I looked up at his hypocritical face. “Luke… do you think there’s any chance Ethan is still alive?” Luke’s eyes flickered with panic for a split second before he quickly regained his composure. “H-how is that possible? The search and rescue team recovered his personal belongings from the ocean. You saw them yourself.” A week ago, Ethan’s private yacht had lost contact in the bay. The coast guard concluded he was swept away by a sudden swell while attempting to abandon the malfunctioning vessel. I had stayed at the harbor all night, refusing to close my eyes. They searched for days, only recovering his jacket and watch. I had nearly fainted from grief. Today was supposed to be our wedding day. I had spent the morning clutching our photos, crying until my head throbbed. And now, I knew it was all a game to him. My grief was nothing but a punchline to them. How could I have been so incredibly stupid to believe their lies in my past life? Luke sighed. “Chloe, stop overthinking. If Ethan could see you now, his heart would break.” *His heart would break…* What a sick joke. Just this morning, I had thanked Luke for helping me arrange the memorial. It turned out they were all trash from the same dumpster.

Using the fragmented memories of my past life, I found an old iPad that my sister, Lily, had left behind at our family villa. I entered a few potential passwords, and on the third try, the screen lit up. There was a locked folder in her photo vault named “Lily’s Private Garden.” The latest photos in the folder were set against the backdrop of a picturesque town at the foot of the Swiss Alps. There was a close-up of two hands tightly locked together, followed by an intimate, breathless hug. I knew the tiny mole on the man’s hand all too well. The caption read: *”He said as soon as he handles the family drama back home, he’ll stay with me forever. What’s ten thousand miles? True love knows no distance.”* The location tag read: *Interlaken, Switzerland.* Scroll down, and there were her diary entries: *”Finally got my baby! Patience really pays off! 🥰”* *”Some people just won’t let go of a spot that doesn’t belong to them, but true love always wins~”* *”We are so in love. Forever and always!”* So, while I was literally losing my mind organizing my fiancé’s “funeral,” my darling sister was basking in the sweetness of “true love” in her private little world. I had been kept completely in the dark until the moment of my death in my past life. My relationship with Ethan wasn’t an arranged one. We met in high school. Back then, my parents had already set their eyes on Julian Harrington as my future husband. But I despised the idea of a transactional marriage. My parents’ marriage was purely for business. Since I was a child, I watched them pretend to be a loving couple in public, only to bring their respective lovers home behind closed doors. The few times they were in the same room, it was a toxic cycle of screaming matches and blame. I hated that hypocrisy. So, I ran from the idea of an arranged marriage. In my sophomore year, Ethan sat behind me. Whenever I was down, he’d hover around me like an eager golden retriever. Saying yes to him felt natural. We went from high school sweethearts to the altar. We had even gone back to our high school recently to give a speech. Everyone called us a fairytale come to life. I basked in that envy, truly believing I had found my soulmate. I never could have guessed that the man I thought would never betray me had been sleeping with my younger sister. In her digital diary, Lily affectionately called him “hubby” and posted “spicy snaps with my sister’s fiancé.” Ethan held her, posing for intimate photos. Though his face was kept out of the frame, his smug satisfaction was obvious. Every single “business trip” he took, he took her with him. Every night I thought he was working overtime, he was actually in my sister’s bed. I remembered once telling him not to work so hard. He had smiled and said, *”I want your parents to respect me, Chloe. I want to make enough money to give you a wedding that everyone will envy.”* Five minutes before his “accident,” Ethan had texted me: *”No matter what happens, Chloe, I will love you forever.”* In my past life, I cried every time I read that text. Now, it was just a pathetic piece of garbage.

I walked downstairs. A small, private memorial was being held in the living room. Ethan’s mother, Eleanor Sinclair, was sitting in the center. When she saw me walk down, her swollen, red eyes flared with pure hatred. “If you hadn’t begged my son to hurry back, he wouldn’t have rushed onto that yacht! You are the reason my son is dead!” Ethan was supposed to be in Switzerland overseeing a project. The day after his “accident” was our scheduled wedding dress fitting. He was supposedly rushing back when the yacht failed. When I first heard of his death, I swallowed my own grief to comfort Eleanor. But she had pushed me away, screaming, “You’re a curse! You killed my son!” Eleanor and I never got along. Before the accident, Ethan promised we wouldn’t live with her after the wedding. But over the last few days, consumed by guilt, I had let her use me as a punching bag. But now, looking at her weeping dramatically in front of Ethan’s massive oil portrait, she looked like a clown in a cheap soap opera. For some reason, a dry chuckle escaped my lips. She went stiff with rage. “What are you laughing at?!” She lunged forward, raising her hand to slap me. Mason rushed over to hold her back. “Mrs. Sinclair, please calm down! Chloe is just out of her mind with grief. She’s not mentally stable right now. Don’t take it out on her.” Luke added quickly, “Chloe, apologize to Mrs. Sinclair right now.” I walked slowly over to Eleanor. She assumed I was going to beg for forgiveness and turned her head away in disgust. “Save your breath. I will never forgive you. You were only engaged, not married. Don’t think you’re getting a single dime of my son’s estate.” I bent down and whispered directly into her ear: “Do you really not know who your son faked his death to run off with? Just wait until my sister gets back. The Sinclair family name is going to be dragged through the mud.” She gasped, clutching her chest, and fell back onto the sofa. It felt incredibly satisfying. The relatives panicked, swarming around her. Shaking her finger at me, she screamed, “She really did kill my son! Luke! Call the police! Have her arrested!” I let tears well up in my eyes right on cue, letting my body sway weakly. “Since you hate me so much, Mrs. Sinclair, I guess I have no choice but to pack my things and leave.” “Chloe, don’t say things in anger,” Luke tried to intervene. “Don’t stop me,” I said, putting on a brave, tragic face. “My presence only brings her pain. I’ve decided to move out.” Luke and Mason exchanged a panicked look. This was clearly not part of the script Ethan had written. Luke hurried into the corner to send a Snapchat message to Ethan. *Luke: “Your mom is losing it. She’s screaming at Chloe, and Chloe is packing her bags to leave the Sinclair estate.”* *Ethan: “My mom has a temper, but she’s sacrificed a lot for me. Tell Chloe to just deal with it and swallow her pride.”* *Luke: “But… your mom is relentlessly cursing her out. Chloe is determined to leave.”* *Ethan: “Let her leave then. It’s fine. Once I return, all it’ll take is one word from me to get her back.”* *Luke: “Alright, I’ll let her go.”* In my past life, I never saw these texts. But now, I knew exactly what they were playing at. I didn’t take much—just a small jewelry box and a few everyday clothes. I left the rest behind, telling the crowd, “I’ll leave these here as memories,” but in reality, I was making a clean, public break. My best friend, Nova Harrington, came to pick me up. “Chloe, are you really okay?” she asked gently. She had seen me crying like my world had ended just days ago. “I’m fine,” I said, leaning back against the leather seat. “I just need to get away from there.” Nova thought for a moment. “My brother has a penthouse downtown. He’s barely ever there, and his housekeeper keeps it spotless. Why don’t you stay there for a bit? Take your time finding a new place.” As she handed me the key fob, I asked, “Is your brother going to show up unexpectedly?” “No way. I asked him recently, and he said he has no plans of returning to the city anytime soon. Even if he does, he usually stays at the Harrington estate or a hotel. You’ll have the place entirely to yourself.” I slept for two solid days in the penthouse. The swelling in my eyes finally went down. On the third night, Nova dragged me to an exclusive, members-only cocktail lounge to take my mind off things. After a few drinks, I spotted Luke and Mason in a VIP booth on the second floor. I didn’t want to deal with them, so I turned my head, pretending not to see them. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Luke pull out his phone, snap a photo of my profile, and send it to Ethan. *Luke: “Just saw Chloe drinking her sorrows away at the Sky Lounge. Should I go over and comfort her?”* *Ethan: “Yeah, I did feel a bit bad about how things handled. She must be hurting.”* Luke pocketed his phone and started walking toward the stairs. But halfway down, his phone buzzed again. *Ethan: “Actually, don’t bother. Let her feel the pain of losing me a bit longer. When I ‘rise from the dead,’ she’ll cherish me even more.”*

*Luke: “True. You really know how to handle her.”* *Ethan: “Just keep an eye on her. The lounge is packed, make sure she doesn’t get into any trouble.”* *Mason texted Ethan: “Man, I wish I could find a girl as loyal, beautiful, and rich as Chloe. I’d die happy.”* *Luke replied to Mason: “You could always shoot your shot now while Ethan’s ‘dead.’”* *Mason: “Hell no, Ethan would literally murder me when he gets back.”* During my years with Ethan, several of his friends had tried to hit on me behind his back. Whenever Ethan found out, he cut them off instantly. But that cheap possessiveness was never loyalty. Suddenly, my phone buzzed with a cloud synchronization alert. The locked folder from Lily’s old iPad had synced new photos. Lily had posted a new update: *”23 days left. Today he took me to see the Northern Lights~ Romance at the edge of the world, just for us. 🌌”* Below, she had replied to her own post using a burner account: *”Why does your man still have to go back? Why can’t he just stay with you forever?!”* Lily’s reply: *”He says he still has some responsibilities to handle back home. But it’s fine. Once he wraps things up, we’ll be free.”* Another comment from her burner: *”Some people are just holding onto a spot they don’t deserve. So annoying. Wishing you guys eternal happiness!”* Unbelievable. Over the past two days, I had stared at these photos and logs repeatedly. The process felt like carving Ethan out of my heart with a dull knife. It hurt, but it worked. Grief was slowly replaced by pure disgust. Now, looking at their lovey-dovey pictures, I felt nothing but relief that I had escaped. *Since you love documenting your happiness so much, let’s make sure everyone gets to appreciate it.* I took screenshots of all the logs and photos and sent them to a close friend who worked as an editor for a prominent business news outlet. *”I have some juicy gossip about the newly deceased tech rising star, Ethan Sinclair. I think your readers would love it.”* I had a few too many drinks at the lounge and didn’t get back to the penthouse until late. The alcohol had dulled my senses. I didn’t notice the “Under Maintenance” sign hanging on the guest bathroom door. Feeling dizzy, I walked up to the second floor and saw the light on in the master bathroom. The door was slightly open. Assuming Nova had left it on, I pushed the door open to turn it off. The sound of running water echoed. Through the frosted glass, I saw the silhouette of a tall, muscular man. I froze, my mind instantly clearing. I turned to bolt, but my foot slipped on a wet tile. A wet, muscular arm shot out from behind the glass door, catching me firmly by the waist. The man let out a low grunt as he shut off the water. “Who’s there?” The glass door slid open. Amidst the rising steam, Julian Harrington stood there. He had nothing but a white towel slung low on his hips. Water droplets ran down his chiseled chest and abs. His dark, piercing eyes locked onto mine. “Chloe?” It took me a few seconds to connect the mature, ridiculously built, and intimidating man in front of me with the quiet, aloof boy from high school. “I… I’m sorry. The guest bathroom had a sign on it, and I thought no one was here…” I stammered, my wrist still caught in his firm grip. His grip loosened instantly. His throat bobbed as he grabbed a dark silk robe, throwing it over his shoulders. He looked away. “You can use this bathroom. I’ll use the guest one.” Nova had told me he never came here. I didn’t expect… “Nova lent me this place. I didn’t know you were coming back tonight,” I explained, looking down. I realized the strap of my silk slip dress had slid down my shoulder during the slip. Julian, who had already turned his back to put on pair of sweatpants, answered in a low, even voice. “It’s fine. You can stay. I have a project in the city, so I’ll be dropping by occasionally. If you feel uncomfortable…” “I don’t,” I interrupted, pulling my strap back up. “This is your place. I’m the one intruding.” HiHis hand paused as he tied his sweatpants. “I should have let you know. Goodnight.” With that, he grabbed his clothes and walked out, heading to the guest room at the end of the hall.

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My family is filthy rich. But in my past life, I ended up dumpster diving and eating discarded food just to avoid spending a single penny. All because of my snake of a colleague, Chloe Finch. She secretly installed spyware on my phone. Every single dollar I spent digitally was silently redirected straight into her bank account. Then, she used gaslighting and moral blackmail to force me into signing a pledge at our company’s annual gala, promising to cover the catering and venue bill for the entire company. Thinking it was just a good way to build professional relationships, I didn’t think twice. I signed a digital billing authorization for three hundred thousand dollars. But the moment the form was uploaded, my payment authorization mysteriously glitched. My bank accounts showed a terrifying balance of zero. Overnight, the entire office branded me as a pathetic liar who wrote bad checks. Even Jackson Miller, the rising star of our department whom I was dating, dumped me on the spot. Meanwhile, Chloe used my stolen money to flaunt her wealth. She generously paid the bill for everyone, branding herself as a sweet, generous heiress. She even spread rumors that I was just a charity case living off her family’s scraps. Furious, I pulled out my physical black card to prove my wealth, but the credit card terminals kept throwing fraud alerts, locking my limits. Chloe, on the other hand, casually swiped her card to pay a million-dollar deposit, booking the most expensive restaurant in the city. She sneered at me in front of everyone: “Still trying to play rich when you’re flat broke, Sera? Your mother is just a maid. Does her hourly wage even cover the cost of you pretending to be high class?” I was subjected to horrific cyberbullying and workplace harassment. The mental toll was too much, and my health rapidly deteriorated due to the stress. Before my dad could return from abroad to save me, my heart gave out, and I died in misery. When I opened my eyes again, I was back at the company gala. Right at the exact moment Chloe was pressuring me to sign the dinner pledge in front of everyone.

“Sera Wood, you are so incredibly vain! You’re just a maid’s daughter. How dare you brag about paying for the entire company’s dinner!” “Exactly! If Chloe hadn’t generously stepped in and covered the bill for us tonight, you’d be exposed as a total fraud!” “Apologize to Chloe right now, or I’m calling the police for wire fraud and damaging the company’s reputation!” The deafening screech of insults rang in my ears. Jostled by the aggressive crowd of colleagues around me, I snapped back to reality. Looking at the familiar, angry faces of my coworkers, it finally clicked. I had been reborn. I was back to the day Chloe used that malware to set me up, forcing me to make a fool of myself at the gala. Just seconds ago, the digital payment authorization I signed had mysteriously failed. And Chloe had immediately stepped up, swiped her card to pay the bill, and loudly announced to everyone that I was just the daughter of her family’s housekeeper. Suddenly, a clear, intrusive thought flashed in my mind. It was Chloe’s inner voice! *【Sign it, you idiot! The software is already running. Once the authorization goes through, all your family’s cash will flow directly into my account!】* I understood everything in an instant. Seeing my silence, Chloe pushed through the crowd, putting on a fake, concerned face. “Sera, I didn’t mind when you secretly wore my designer dresses left at the office, or when you borrowed my limited-edition handbags to show off on Snapchat. But how could you write a bad check at a major company event?” “We all know you don’t have the money to pay for this. Just apologize. Otherwise, I won’t be able to defend you in front of the regional manager anymore!” Looking at the malicious greed in her eyes, I knew she was trying to bait me into a prideful rage. In my past life, I had fallen for it. I had angrily thrown my black card on the table, telling everyone to order whatever they wanted. But when the servers went to process the payment, the card reader blared: “Transaction Declined. Insufficient Funds. Please try again.” In contrast, Chloe had swept in like a savior, transferring millions to cover everything, even promising to pay for all future company outings. I became the office pariah—a vain, pathetic imposter—while Chloe became the beloved, generous billionaire heiress. As I was calculating my next move, my boyfriend, Jackson, suddenly broke through the crowd. He was the golden boy of our marketing team. Tonight, he was dripping in designer clothes, wearing a luxury watch worth a hundred grand on his wrist—all bought with my money. He pointed a finger at me, disgust written all over his face. “Sera Wood! I actually believed you were from a wealthy family. Turns out you’re just a cheap fraud! If you hadn’t practically begged me and acted like my loyal little puppy for the past year, I wouldn’t have looked at you twice. We are over. Don’t ever contact me again!” But he was the one who had practically begged me on his knees to date him after drooling over my luxury lifestyle posts on Instagram. If he hadn’t been decent-looking and competent at his job, I wouldn’t have bothered keeping him as a pet. But now, he looked at me like I was toxic waste, violently shoving me back to make sure everyone saw him cutting ties with me. The onlookers cheered, congratulating Jackson on escaping a “gold-digger.” Ha. A gold-digger? I gave him a hundred-thousand-dollar monthly allowance. And they called him the victim. Just as I opened my mouth to expose them, Chloe’s eyes welled with fake tears, and she slapped me across the face. “Sera, why can’t you just admit you’re wrong? Your mother is a housekeeper at my estate, but I’ve always treated you like a sister! All you had to do was say sorry, and I would have forgiven you. Why do you have to keep lying?” “Admit it? Fine. I’ll admit it right now.” I held my red, stinging cheek, stood up straight, and raised my voice so the entire room could hear: “You’re right. I, Sera Wood, am just a maid’s daughter! I was vain, I pretended to be Chloe, and I made a promise I couldn’t keep. I was wrong!” “I hope the great heiress Chloe Finch can find it in her heart to forgive a poor maid’s daughter like me.”

The entire room fell dead silent. No one expected me to confess so easily. Chloe stammered, trying to find more words to humiliate me, but I turned around and walked straight out of the banquet hall, giving her no chance to spin her web further. The moment I got back to the modest apartment I had rented to “experience normal life,” I opened my shopping apps. Chloe probably thought my lack of resistance meant I was planning something. But as she watched her bank account balance swell, she couldn’t help but gloat. She immediately sent me a message on Snapchat: *”Sera, the team says you need to prove your apology. Order 100 deluxe organic catering boxes to the office tomorrow.”* I sneered and replied with a simple, *”Sure.”* I ordered the most expensive catering boxes available. But the moment the delivery driver dropped them off at the front desk, I immediately logged onto the app and clicked “Refund – Wrong Address/Item Spoiled.” I didn’t stop there. I went on Amazon and luxury retail apps, buying millions of dollars worth of designer gear, and immediately filed “Chargeback” disputes and “Item Not Received” refunds. With a few clicks, the hundreds of thousands of dollars I had just “spent” flowed right back into my bank accounts. In the distance, I could practically hear Chloe’s panicked thoughts. *【What the hell? Why is my ledger app showing a random catering purchase? And why can’t I delete this refund history?!】* I knew it! To perfectly replicate my transaction history, her spyware automatically generated matching records on her device. But a refund bypasses the spyware’s routing, leaving an indelible, undeletable digital trail of fraud on her phone! I wanted to scream with joy. Chloe was in for a wild ride. Over the next few days, I went on a massive three-million-dollar shopping spree. And for every single purchase—from cheap snacks and makeup to limited-edition luxury bags, designer gowns, and even a foreclosed suburban property—I exploited the instant-refund and chargeback loophole. Still, a lingering anxiety remained. Remembering how my health had suddenly collapsed in my past life, I decided to head back to my family’s actual estate over the weekend to investigate. But the moment I pushed open the grand double doors of my mansion, I froze. Chloe and Jackson were throwing a wild party in my living room, surrounded by a crowd of my coworkers. When they saw me, their faces immediately twisted in disgust. “Oh, Sera. You’re back,” Chloe said. She was wearing one of my custom-tailored designer gowns, casually swirling a glass of 1992 Chateau Lafite. She walked toward me with mock elegance. “It’s Jackson’s birthday today. He really wanted to have his party at my family’s estate, so I brought him and the team over. We actually drank through the entire wine cellar. Go order a few more cases of the ’92 Lafite right now.” I stared at her glowing, heavily made-up face, momentarily stunned. Clothes really do make the person. Chloe, funded by the millions she had stolen from me, looked entirely different from the plain, nervous girl who had followed her mother to my house years ago to beg for a job. But I was genuinely curious about how she was pulling this off. Seeing me silent, Chloe grew impatient, pointing a manicured finger at my face. “What are you standing there for? Move! I put together this birthday bash for Jackson. If you ruin his night, you won’t survive the consequences. Oh, and make sure you get the Lafite. It’s Jackson’s favorite.” “And while you’re at it, call the Michelin-star pastry shop for a custom cake, and book a VIP lounge at the rooftop club for the afterparty.” I almost laughed out loud at her sheer audacity. Using my stolen money to fund her luxury lifestyle, and now she wanted me to act as her personal errand girl? In her dreams.

I stood rooted to the spot, refusing to budge. Looking at the hundreds of empty, priceless wine bottles littered around the room, I silently prayed for them. If my dad found out his vintage collection had been guzzled by these parasites, he would personally destroy them. Jackson, clearly drunk, stumbled over, flanked by a group of scowling coworkers. “Sera Wood, are you deaf? You’re a worthless maid’s daughter. When Chloe, our resident heiress, tells you to do something, you jump! Go buy the damn wine!” “If you ruin Jackson’s birthday because of your laziness, Chloe can have your mother fired with a single phone call. She’ll be begging for scraps on the street!” one coworker sneered. The luxury watch I had gifted Jackson was gone. In its place was a ridiculously thick, gaudy solid gold watch. He was also spinning a key fob for a limited-edition supercar on his finger, looking like a total textbook nouveau riche. No wonder everyone was kissing his ass. Chloe must have spent at least three million of my dollars on him. I couldn’t help but chuckle. No wonder Chloe was so desperate for me to keep spending; she needed to fund her boytoy. “I’m so sorry, Chloe,” I said mockingly. “My salary is only a few thousand dollars a month. I don’t have the funds to prepay for your expensive wine. If you want to fire my mother, go ahead. I’ll tell her to pack her bags and leave your estate immediately.” I turned to leave, but someone grabbed my hair from behind, ripping me backward. “Sera Wood, you ungrateful bitch! How dare a servant’s daughter talk back to Chloe!” Jackson’s eyes were filled with pure malice. “If you hadn’t stolen Chloe’s identity and tricked me, Chloe and I wouldn’t have wasted so much time apart!” “I’m going to teach you some manners today!” With a wave of his hand, half a dozen coworkers ran forward, pinning my arms behind my back. I struggled, panic rising in my chest. “Let me go! Are you all insane?!” Jackson laughed maniacally and slapped me hard across the face. “I’m doing Chloe a favor by disciplining her servant!” Searing pain bloomed across my face. My lip split, and the metallic taste of blood filled my mouth. Chloe stood by, sipping her wine and watching the show with a satisfied smirk. “Honestly, Sera, I’ve been way too soft on you. That’s why you forgot your place. It’s good for Jackson to teach you a lesson. Maybe now you’ll remember who the real owner of this estate is.” Dizzy and bleeding, I screamed for the estate’s butler and security, only to realize the house staff had been completely dismissed for the party. It seemed that during the months I was living near the office to focus on work, Chloe’s mother had completely taken over the estate management. After a while, Jackson grew tired of hitting me. But his greedy eyes suddenly locked onto my wrist. “Where did you get that watch? You stole it from Chloe, didn’t you?!” His eyes lit up with greed as he grabbed my wrist, trying to rip the watch off. The metal dug painfully into my skin. “Let go! This was my mother’s!” I screamed. Jackson didn’t believe me. He kicked me squarely in the chest, knocking the wind out of me. “Your maid mother could never afford a watch like this! You definitely stole it from Chloe’s room!” He twisted my wrist violently. This watch was the only thing my late mother had left me. I would rather die than let him take it. I thrashed wildly, prepared to fight them to the death. But right then, a sharp gasp echoed from the grand entryway. “What on earth are you doing?! Stop this right now!”

I looked up. It was Brenda Finch, Chloe’s mother—our estate’s housekeeper. Except today, she was dripping in diamonds and gold, looking like a wealthy Beverly Hills housewife. Chloe gathered her skirt and ran over to her, whining. “Mom, why are you back so early?” Jackson and the colleagues immediately stood up straight, politely greeting her. “Good evening, Mrs. Finch!” I spat out a mouthful of blood and sneered, “I didn’t know my family’s estate hired a new ‘Mrs. Finch’.” My dad had only been out of the country on business for six months. He trusted Brenda, a long-time employee, to look after the mansion. And this was how she repaid him? By trying to steal our home? Seeing my bloodied state on the floor, a flash of panic crossed Brenda’s eyes, but she quickly masked it with a stern face. “Hmph. You’re just a maid’s daughter. Stop acting like you own the place!” She turned to Chloe with a doting smile. “Chloe, sweetie, how many times have I told you? You are a high-society lady. Why are you wasting your time dealing with this trash? It’s beneath you.” “Since you’ve already taught her a lesson, throw her out! Don’t let her dirty our floors!” Chloe giggled and gestured for the coworkers to drag me out. But then, she pointed at my bruised wrist and the watch, looking for praise. “Mom, look! Luckily, I caught her trying to steal this watch. We can’t let her keep something this valuable!” But the moment Brenda’s eyes landed on my watch, the color drained from her face. She lunged forward, slapping Chloe’s hand away from my wrist. “What do you think you’re doing?!” Brenda’s voice was visibly trembling. She looked at me with sheer terror, frantically trying to cover for me. “This… this watch is just a cheap knockoff her mother bought from a street vendor to look rich! It’s worthless junk!” “None of you are allowed to touch Sera’s watch ever again, do you hear me?!” At that moment, her inner panic echoed clearly in my mind: *【My god! The microchip inside can’t be damaged! If the signal breaks, the Trojan and the tracking device will completely fail!】* Looking at her terrified expression, the puzzle pieces fell into place. The watch held a micro-chip that boosted the spyware’s signal. It was the anchor for their entire theft operation! But Chloe herself had no idea. “Oh? A knockoff? I thought it was real!” “Figures. Sera is so vain, she’d wear fake trash just to fit in.” “Ugh, a maid’s daughter indeed. So pathetic.” The crowd mocked me as they threw me out into the cold night. I dragged myself up, immediately unclasped the watch, and sent a message to my dad telling him to return immediately. I also arranged for a trusted courier to take the watch to a tech-forensics lab. Then, I ran to the luxury boutique, spent three million dollars to buy an exact replica of the watch, and bought a brand-new phone. I turned off my old phone and sealed it in a lead bag. The moment I switched devices, the heavy, suffocating fog in my chest instantly cleared. I felt a surge of energy. It turned out the chip in the watch and the malware on my old phone had been emitting harmful low-frequency radiation, slowly poisoning my body while draining my bank account. To avoid alerting Brenda and Chloe, I continued my routine. Aside from ordering luxury items and filing for chargebacks, I posted daily selfies showing off my “new” watch on Instagram. Even though the comments were flooded with hate and mockery, I remained unfazed. Soon, Jackson couldn’t resist leaving a comment: *”Lmao, bragging about a fake watch? Let me show you what real wealth looks like.”* He immediately uploaded a five-minute video on Instagram. In the video, he was wearing a bespoke designer suit, kneeling before Chloe with a massive, flawless diamond ring. He shouted: “Chloe, will you marry me?” Chloe wept tears of joy, and instead of flower petals, the venue was showered with crisp, hundred-dollar bills. The extravagant video went viral instantly. “OMG, the power couple of our department! I’m so jealous!” “I looked up that ring—it’s easily worth a million dollars! Not to mention the cash shower!” “Sera Wood is officially a joke. Posting her fake watch daily while Jackson marries a literal billionaire!” I scrolled through the comments, smiling. In North America, credit card chargebacks and refund fraud over a certain amount are federal offenses. I wondered what Chloe’s face would look like when the authorities presented her with millions of dollars in fraudulent transactions that she couldn’t erase from her devices.

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I had a silent agreement with Ethan Sterling, the billionaire CEO. Every year on our wedding anniversary, we would drop all our work and spend the entire day together. But on our fifth anniversary, he didn’t show up. Instead, he flew to a private island for a vacation with his childhood sweetheart, Chloe Henderson. At the same time, he sent me the deed to my 100th luxury property as compensation. Just like he had done the previous 99 times. I didn’t cry. I didn’t make a scene. I simply attached the divorce agreement to the last page of the property transfer documents, waiting for his signature. After he signed the papers without looking, a rare soft expression appeared on his face. “Wait for me to get back. I promise I’ll make it up to you on our next anniversary.” But when he finally cleared his schedule to spend time with me, all he received was a text. “There won’t be a next time. We are done.” Over the past five years, Ethan had transferred a hundred luxury properties to my name. Every time a new deed arrived, he was always spotted somewhere with Chloe. Sometimes it was a high-end condo right next to an amusement park, the paperwork still smelling of fresh ink. Sometimes it was a beachfront villa on a private island, delivered to me along with his vacation itinerary. He even bought the building right across from City Hall. The title was transferred to me today, and tomorrow he would take Chloe to stay in the penthouse of that very building. The companionship I begged for was something Chloe got with absolute ease. And all I got in return was a stack of cold, lifeless property deeds. I locked my phone and sat on the curb, waiting for my Uber. I waited for a long time, but the car didn’t arrive. Instead, Ethan’s call came through. The moment I picked up, his cold voice echoed through the speaker. “It’s this late and you’re still not home? My wife is spending the night outside. Have you ever considered how that makes me look?” “Where are you right now?” I remained silent. If this were the past, I would have bowed my head first, explaining my situation in a soft, apologetic tone. But now, I just couldn’t bring myself to care. Ethan’s voice grew irritated. “Avery, did you suddenly go mute?” “Westview Heights Park.” Ethan went dead silent on the other end. It seemed he finally remembered today was our fifth wedding anniversary. He had once promised me that every year on this day, he would cancel all his meetings and spend it here with me. But today, he had flown to a private island in the Caribbean with Chloe, starting a three-day “anniversary weekend.” “I… wait for me. I’ll pick you up as soon as I’m done here.” The line went dead. I canceled my Uber. It wasn’t because I was expecting Ethan to show up. It was because the weather suddenly took a sharp turn, and a heavy blizzard started to fall. I stood by the side of the road, shivering violently. Due to the freezing temperature, my phone battery drained to zero in less than three hours. From beginning to end, Ethan never showed up. The last notification I saw before my phone died was a Page Six headline: *Billionaire Ethan Sterling Spotted on Private Island with Mystery Woman for Romantic Weekend.* The attached photo was a shot of him from behind, his arm wrapped tightly around Chloe’s waist at the airport. In the reflection of the black screen, I saw my own relieved smile. On our fifth anniversary, he chose to spend three days on a private island with Chloe. I waited in the snow all night, and he never showed. I spent five of the best years of my life collecting his “compensation” deeds. But in the end, one hundred luxury properties couldn’t beat a single moment of genuine presence. Ethan, I’m not waiting anymore. ***

In the freezing night, I didn’t go home. I dragged my numb body for two hours to the nearest hotel—which, ironically, was under my name. The deed was right inside my bag. That night, Ethan didn’t send another text or make another call. The next morning, I arrived at the office early to prepare my resignation letter. Ethan was the founder of the company. I was just a low-profile business specialist on paper, a ghost in his corporate empire. I had been by his side since he had nothing. But now, my presence was completely insignificant. Even if I vanished, Ethan wouldn’t notice a thing. Just as I was about to sign the last line of my resignation letter, Ethan suddenly appeared behind me. I remained completely calm under his gaze, switching my screen as if nothing had happened. He looked at me, his voice crisp. “What are you writing?” “Nothing. Just some property management files.” He frowned slightly, failing to notice anything unusual, and turned to walk into his private office. “Avery, come in for a second.” The moment Ethan called me in, the surrounding colleagues started whispering among themselves. “Oh no, Avery is going to get chewed out by Mr. Sterling again.” In the entire company, everyone assumed Chloe was his public partner. None of them knew I was his legal wife, holding nearly a hundred luxury deeds under my name. Inside the office, Ethan looked at me with a tight frown. “Just because I missed the anniversary, is it really necessary to throw such a tantrum and not even come home?” I shook my head. “The snow was too heavy. It wasn’t safe to drive.” It was the truth, but also an excuse. The important thing was that I didn’t want to go back. I wanted to leave forever. Ethan didn’t seem to notice my detachment. After a moment of silence, he spoke. “The transfer of the Fontainebleau Manor is complete. The deed will be delivered to you in a few days.” Then, he slid an invitation card over to me. “We are going tonight.” They were front-row tickets to my favorite symphony orchestra. I knew this was yet another one of his “compensations.” I thought about it and took the card. After all, he owed me this. Seeing that I remained quiet, Ethan opened his mouth, wanting to say something more. But a sharp ringtone cut him off. I watched him quickly step away to answer it. I knew it was Chloe. After all, only she had the power to make Ethan drop everything instantly. When I left his office, I printed out my resignation and went straight to Marcus Brody, the Vice President. Marcus was shocked when I handed him the papers. “Avery, you’re resigning? Is this because of Mr. Sterling?” I pursed my lips, finding it slightly amusing. They all thought I was leaving because I couldn’t handle Ethan’s harsh attitude at work. None of them knew it was because my heart was completely shattered. Seeing me nod, Marcus sighed and finally signed the approval. As I was leaving the corporate building, I ran straight into Ethan and Chloe. The entire company knew Chloe was his favorite. Seeing me, Ethan’s face darkened slightly. “Avery, if you have a report, do it later.” With that, he brushed past me with Chloe on his arm. As she passed, Chloe threw me a warning glare. I said nothing and showed up at the concert hall on time that night. The hall was packed, except for the seat next to me. Ethan’s spot was completely empty. In the past, whenever he asked me out, I would wait for him at the entrance until he arrived. This time, I didn’t wait. I went in alone and enjoyed the music. By the time the concert ended, Ethan still hadn’t shown up. I wasn’t even angry. I had already wasted five years of my life. Why care about this last bit of disappointment? Whether he knew about my resignation or not wouldn’t change my decision to leave. ***

After the concert, I didn’t go back to our house. Instead, I walked along the riverwalk. The sky was filled with a brilliant display of fireworks. But it couldn’t spark a single emotion in my heart. My phone kept buzzing. It wasn’t Ethan worrying about me. It was the local news. To celebrate “the perfect end to their anniversary weekend,” Ethan had set global social media ablaze by launching a massive firework show on his private island for Chloe. It wasn’t until midnight that I finally unlocked the front door of the house. The living room lights were on. Ethan was asleep on the couch. Was he waiting for me? In our five years together, he was always the one coming home dead drunk. I used to worry he’d choke or get hurt, calling him dozens of times. I’d prepare hangover cures early, fearing his stomach would hurt. Ethan had told me countless times he hated when I did that. His reason? It made him feel like he was getting old. My thoughts snapped back. Maybe he heard the door open, because he suddenly woke up with a start. The moment he saw me, he rushed over and pulled me into a tight embrace. “Where were you? Why didn’t you pick up my calls? Do you know I was about to call the police?!” I froze for a second, then gently pushed myself out of his grip and pulled out my phone. Only then did I realize it was completely dead. “The cold killed the battery. I didn’t get any calls.” Hearing me mention the snow, a rare flash of guilt washed over Ethan’s face. His lips pressed into a tight line. He awkwardly pulled out a thick envelope and handed it to me. I took it and opened it. Inside was the complete deed to the Fontainebleau Manor—what should have been my 100th property. I stared at it. Once upon a time, I had dreamed of the day Ethan would stand in front of me, offering me a real hug instead of another piece of real estate. But that was in the past. Now, my heart was a flatline. I calmly folded the documents and tossed them casually onto the coffee table. “Thanks.” Ethan stared at me, his handsome brow furrowing. He couldn’t seem to understand my polite indifference. “Why are you acting like…” I looked at him, slightly amused. Perhaps in his mind, I should have gasped at the sight of this multi-million-dollar estate, cried tears of joy, and forgotten all my grievances. With that thought, I forced a dry chuckle right in front of him. “Oh, I’m so thrilled. Yay.” “Are you satisfied now?” I thought Ethan would leave it at that, but my attitude seemed to spark his anger. “Avery, I only took Chloe to the island for a weekend!” “And I already gave you the Fontainebleau Manor! How long are you going to keep throwing this tantrum?” I wasn’t intimidated by his dark expression. I calmly plugged my phone into the charger. “You’re misunderstanding. I’m just tired.” Ethan’s face tightened. It was the first time he had ever felt such blatant indifference from me. He bit his lip, reaching out to grab my hand. But a sharp ringtone broke the silence again. It was Chloe. He looked at me, about to explain, but I spoke first. “You’re busy. No need to explain. I understand.” Seeing how “understanding” I was, Ethan looked even more bewildered. He gripped my hand tighter, desperate to figure out what had changed. But the phone kept ringing, louder and more urgent. Finally, under my calm gaze, Ethan slowly let go of my hand. “Wait for me to get back. I promise I’ll make it up to you next year.” With that, he rushed out the door. I acted as if nothing had happened. I went back to my room, pulled out the “property transfer documents” he had just signed, and turned to the very last page. The words *Divorce Agreement* were printed clearly on the white paper. I stared at his signature for a long time, then filed it away safely. That night, I had the best sleep I’d had in five years. Once the HR transition was complete, Ethan would never see me again. ***

When I arrived at the office, I walked toward my desk as usual, but Sarah pulled me back. “Avery, you’ve got trouble today.” I looked at her, confused. I had already resigned. What trouble could I possibly have? Sarah pointed ahead. I looked over and saw Chloe sitting in my chair. After Sarah’s quick explanation, I understood the situation. Today was Chloe’s first day as an official employee. When choosing her desk, she had taken a liking to mine at first glance. I walked over to her calmly. Seeing me approach, Chloe raised an eyebrow, a mocking smirk playing on her lips. “I like this spot. Find yourself another desk.” I looked at her and gave a calm nod. “Sure. Let me just pack up my things.” Though I didn’t say anything, the colleagues around us immediately assumed I was being bullied into submission by Chloe. But because of Chloe’s special connection to the boss, no one dared to speak up. They only whispered and cast sympathetic looks my way. Just as I finished packing my box and was about to leave, Ethan walked in. Chloe immediately ran to him, grabbing his arm. Ethan took the opportunity to introduce her to the team. “This is Chloe Henderson. She’ll be working with you all starting today. Please show her the ropes.” A few scattered claps echoed in the lobby. Ethan didn’t seem to mind. “Did you pick a desk?” he asked. The moment he said that, Chloe pointed directly at my old spot. “I want to sit there!” Ethan looked over and finally noticed me holding my cardboard box. His expression turned slightly uneasy. “That spot is taken. Choose another one.” Surprisingly, Ethan rejected her request. But Chloe was determined to have my spot. She clung to his arm, whining. “Ethan, I want this one. It’s closer to your office. I can see you from here.” I didn’t want to waste my time watching their little show, so I spoke up. “She can have the desk.” Since I had already resigned, a desk meant absolutely nothing to me. Seeing me back down, Chloe looked at Ethan triumphantly. “See? She gave it to me.” Ethan shot me a glance, his face turning incredibly dark for some reason. Then, he turned to Chloe, his voice dropping to a cold, firm whisper. “I said, that desk is taken. Pick another one.” Ethan, who had always spoiled her and given her everything she wanted, was snapping at her for the first time. Chloe stood there, completely stunned. The atmosphere in the room froze. Having made his decision, Ethan spared me one last look before turning on his heel and walking back to his office. Panicking, Chloe rushed after him, but not before turning back to glare at me with pure hatred. I found it almost funny. Once, I was just like Chloe, chasing after Ethan’s back. The only difference was that I chased him for five years and got 99 deeds, but never a single day of his undivided attention. As I was about to walk out, my phone buzzed with a text from Ethan. *Tomorrow at 7 PM. Westview Heights Park. I’m making up for our anniversary.* I smiled, blocked his number, and deleted his contact information. After saying goodbye to a few colleagues, I walked out of the building. With my bags already packed, I headed straight to the airport. The next day, Ethan dressed up in a sharp white suit, carrying a beautifully wrapped gift, and arrived early at Westview Heights Park.

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