Author: Momo Chan

When I got out of prison, Julian grabbed my hand and said, “Evie, I never married anyone else!” I pulled my hand away and said, “Mr. Thorne, weren’t you the one who testified and sent me to prison?” Ten years ago, a female student sponsored by Julian stole my design and won a major prize. They even named my work after their three-year-old child. Julian and I were caught on camera. The headline, ‘Evie Reed Released from Prison, Harassing Julian Thorne,’ immediately shot to the top of trending topics on Ins. The photo showed Julian’s back, making it seem like I was blocking his path. Netizens who had been following my release exploded with outrage. “Seriously, no shame! First thing she does after jail is cling to Mr. Thorne!” “Terrifying, how did they let this psycho out? @Blair Jensen, protect yourself and your child!” “Heard she only attacked because her marriage proposal was rejected!” “Scientists gone wild are even scarier, total psychopath!” Everyone started tagging Blair Jensen. So, she posted a selfie from her lab with a caption. “Don’t worry, everyone, I’m safe and will protect the people who matter most to me.” This carefully orchestrated interaction earned her another wave of public sympathy. I closed Ins, and the next second, my phone rang. No contact name, but that number was etched into my memory. I hung up without a second thought. Once, twice… I dragged the number straight to my blacklist. Then, a text message popped up. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know it would be like this. I’ll handle the media.” I blacklisted that number too, without hesitation. Just as I put my phone down, it rang again. I didn’t check the caller ID. I picked up, ready to unleash a stream of curses, when a familiar voice spoke. “Evie, darling, the best way to clear your name is to live your life well. I don’t want you affected by all that filth online.” “Our old high school has an intelligent robot model competition coming up, and they need a high-caliber mentor. Are you up for it?” A warmth spread through my eyes instantly. He was my high school teacher, and the one who first ignited my passion for physics. Tears in my eyes, I nodded. “Mr. Henderson, I’ll be there. Thank you so much.” His voice on the phone choked up slightly. “Oh, my dear, I knew you’d rise again.” After hanging up, my heart refused to settle for a long time. Indeed, my life had nothing to do with Julian anymore. Following Mr. Henderson’s instructions, I arrived at the lab right on time. Only to find two students arguing. I paused at the doorway, wanting to hear their side of things. “My thermal dynamic coupling model is absolutely fine, my mom told me so! My mom is Blair Jensen, a celebrated researcher with award-winning theories! Who are you to question her?!” Alex glared, eyes blazing red, at the smaller boy. “I’m not saying the theory is wrong, but this value is too high, it’ll burn out the circuit…” “Bullshit!” Alex suddenly grabbed some materials off the table, ready to hurl them at the other boy. I rushed forward to stop him but accidentally pushed him, sending him sprawling. He froze for two seconds. “Who are you? Why did you push me? I’m calling the cops!” I stared coldly at the boy who looked so much like Julian, yet in his very core, mirrored Blair Jensen. “You’re Alex? Your mom is Blair Jensen, so all her theories are automatically correct?” “Did your mom ever tell you that she stole someone else’s work?” Facing the name that had stained my entire life… I couldn’t hold back. The words were out before I could regret them. But it was too late. The incident escalated, and soon the police were involved. That very night, I was trending again. Everyone said I couldn’t get over Julian, and was now taking revenge on his son. My temporary address was dug up and publicized. My door was plastered with hateful graffiti and curses. There was even a package left, covered in paint and containing razor blades. My landlord told me to leave immediately. As I carried my clothes, which had been tossed on the ground, downstairs, I ran into Julian. “I’m so sorry…” He nervously rubbed the edge of his coat pocket, a picture of helplessness. His head slightly bowed, he stole glances at my face. For a moment, he reminded me of Julian in high school. I closed my eyes, trying to banish those images. “Mr. Thorne, I don’t want to see you ever again. I just want a peaceful life. Please, just disappear.” His eyes reddened, his gaze clouded with unspoken emotions. “Evie, I just wanted to apologize. It’s okay if you can’t forgive me. We’re still old friends, and I can actually help—” “You want to help me? Just stay far away from me.” I met his gaze head-on. “Julian, if I had known that meeting you would bring such utter disaster into my life, I would have never—” He frantically cut me off. “Evie! Don’t say it… Please, I’ll go.” I’d forgotten about that past, a past that could never be reclaimed. It held not only my scars, but his too. Even after all these years. We still knew exactly how to twist the knife, how to hit each other where it hurt the most.

When I first met Julian, he wasn’t the hotshot tech entrepreneur he is today. He was just the quiet kid from the wrong side of the tracks, wearing a faded uniform, bullied by everyone. One day, a few older teens cornered him in an alley, pelting him with plastic water bottles. “Isn’t your grandma a trash collector? We’re helping you out, how are you gonna thank us?” “Filthy garbage brings out filthy kids, you reek!” A surge of compassion overwhelmed me, and I stepped in front of him. “His grandma works hard to send him to school, there’s no shame in that.” “What’s shameful is your parents finding out you’re bullies!” After that, I started sharing half of my mom’s breakfast with him every day. I tutored him, oversaw his studies. We even worked part-time jobs together. He became my constant shadow, my loyal “knight,” looking out for me. In our senior year of college, he bought a silver ring with tiny diamond chips, paid for with money from his part-time jobs. He knelt on one knee in front of me. “Evie, when I make it big, I’ll get you a diamond ring that’ll make this one look tiny. Will you… will you be with me?” Smiling, I slid my finger into the ring. “Okay, Julian. I’ll wait.” On our wedding day, his family kept making him drink, one after another. He drank until his steps faltered and his mind grew hazy. But he still swore an oath to the heavens in front of my parents and relatives. “I, Julian, will only marry Evie in this life, and love only Evie. May I be struck by lightning and never find peace if I break this—” That day, I stopped his foolish vow with a kiss. Amidst the cheers and blessings of our families. I felt like the happiest woman in the world. He continued to be wonderful for years. Even when his company was swamped, he never forgot to surprise me. He even took my parents on trips and helped my relatives’ kids find jobs. He always did his best to be good to me. And that’s how he managed to fool everyone. Blair Jensen was a student I started sponsoring after I began working, someone I personally introduced to him. In the first few years of Julian’s company, he was incredibly busy, constantly on the go. Coming home late at night, he always reeked of smoke and alcohol. “Evie, everyone below me is an absolute idiot…” I massaged his temples, and Blair came to mind. She was smart, diligent, with a stubborn refusal to ever give up visible in her eyes. “Why don’t you let Blair help you? She’s meticulous and trustworthy.” And just like that, Blair joined his company. Because I knew her background so well, she gradually took over some highly confidential, yet mundane, tasks. Julian didn’t have to micromanage her, and sure enough, his workload lessened significantly. He even found time to join me in the lab. Watching me tinker with different machine models, he would hold me from behind, his voice full of emotion. “When I was a kid, I always wished for a superhero to save me, to defeat all the monsters that bullied me.” “But then, I stopped wishing for it.” I turned my head to ask him why. “Because my superhero, you, came into my life in my sophomore year of high school.” From that day on, in addition to my research, I wanted to create a surprise for him. I began integrating the concept of ‘protection’ into my model. As a gift for him. Later, his career took off. Blair became a frequent guest at our home. She often brought documents, sometimes asking me for advice on technical issues. I never held anything back. Our relationship grew closer and closer. She often brought me gifts, and never missed a single one of my birthdays. “Evie, I wouldn’t be where I am today without you. Mr. Thorne trusts me, and I would never want to let you down.” My own research was entering its most critical phase. It was my turn to practically live in the lab. She often took Julian’s place, bringing me meals to the lab. I thought she was simply grateful, wanting to repay my kindness. Until that globally recognized model design competition. I saw my work, proudly bearing the name ‘Alex.’ And saw Blair Jensen’s name listed as the sole creator in the project description.

I wanted to ask Julian if he knew. But then I saw a small boy, darting around outside his office. My beloved, with whom I had spent fourteen years. He actually had a three-year-old child with another woman. I stormed into his office. “Julian, is that child outside yours?” He merely lifted his eyes. “Evie, watch your tone and remember where you are.” “My tone? My identity? I am your legal wife!” He leaned back into his leather chair. “Blair gave me a son, Evie. My family name needs an heir. You’ve been unable to have children, so you should understand.” I stared at him, as if seeing him for the very first time. He paused, then pushed a prepared document across the desk. When I saw the words ‘Divorce Agreement’ on it, I ripped it into shreds. I stared in disbelief at the man I had poured my entire life into supporting. I refused to sign. In a rage, I stormed off to my parents’ house. My mother, furious beyond words, burst into Julian’s office and slapped him across the face in front of everyone. “You shameless bastard! Without my daughter, you’d still be rolling in the gutter!” “You ungrateful snake! A total backstabber!” Julian’s eyes turned cold, menacing. “Fine,” he snarled. “Let’s see who can’t live without whom.” That very day, Julian pulled all his investments from my father’s company. Word spread like wildfire. The next day, competitors deliberately undercut my father, snatching contracts with ridiculously low bids. The company’s cash flow dried up, and our partners abandoned us one by one. He even fired our relatives’ children from his company and blacklisted them across the entire industry. Even though those elders were the very people who had once helped him. When he was just starting his company and had no seed money, it was my family who pooled together every last penny for him. But with a flick of his wrist, he was ready to destroy all our lives. My father, consumed by anger, suffered a heart attack and was hospitalized. Julian ultimately acquired the company for a ridiculously low price. My mother couldn’t bear the shock and fell ill, never recovering. Julian reappeared, tossing the agreement onto the table in front of me. “Sign it. You walk away with nothing, but you’ll save your parents.” Looking at my father, still in the ICU, I shakily signed my name. As I left that home, clutching the last few things I owned, Blair was waiting at the door. “Evie, this is how it should be. If you’d just given up your place sooner, your parents wouldn’t have ended up like this, would they?” She smirked, a triumphant gleam in her eyes. All the anger and humiliation erupted in that moment. I grabbed a kitchen knife and pointed it at her. “Get out of my house! Get out!” Instead of backing away, she suddenly grabbed my hand, forcing the knife’s tip sharply into her own abdomen. Julian arrived just in time, pulling her away. Under Julian’s manipulation, all the evidence turned against me. No lawyer dared to take my case. He himself took the witness stand. “I personally witnessed Evie, driven by jealousy, attack Blair with a knife. She has a volatile personality and had threatened Blair multiple times before.” My parents, still in the hospital, heard the news and, despite their fragile health, desperately tried to fight for me. But his heart was set on destroying me. On the day of my final sentencing, my father coughed up a mouthful of blood on the courthouse steps. He couldn’t be saved. Not long after, my mother also passed away. I was sentenced to the maximum ten years for aggravated assault. Yet now, I watched him gather the media, holding a press conference. He released the lab’s surveillance footage. Desperately trying to clear my name. “Evie did not target the child. I will pursue legal action against all online misinformation. Regardless of the truth of what happened that year, I owe her, and I will not allow anyone to slander her.” I don’t know how long passed. A single tear splattered onto the darkened screen of my phone. The screen reflected my own mocking face.

When Blair found me, I was sitting outside a small noodle shop in a rundown part of town, eating a cheap bowl of plain pasta. She pulled up in a sports car, dressed in designer clothes, utterly out of place. “Evie, what are you doing eating in a place like this?” She placed her designer bag on the grimy table, glanced disdainfully at the faded, unidentifiable stool, and remained standing. “Here’s a million dollars. Take it, leave this city, and never show your face to Julian again.” I lowered my head and continued eating my noodles, ignoring her. She didn’t seem annoyed. Leaning slightly forward, she lowered her voice. “Didn’t ten years in prison teach you anything?” “Look at yourself, so unkempt. What part of you could ever be worthy of him now?” I put down my fork, lifting my eyes to her heavily made-up face. I noticed the dark circles under her eyes, clumsily concealed by makeup. Her blush couldn’t hide her pale complexion. She hadn’t been doing well lately. “Blair Jensen, why are you in such a rush? What are you so afraid of?” Her face flickered. “Afraid of you? Evie, look at yourself! Do you really think I’d be scared or jealous of some washed-up, bitter woman who spent ten years in prison?” “Then what’s with the money? In your mind, is Julian, the successful, famous man he is now, only worth a million dollars?” Blair seemed to realize her slip. She clutched her bag tighter, forced a smile, and raised her voice. “You’re mistaken. I just knew you’d be struggling after your release and wanted to help! But since you brought it up, if a million isn’t enough, how much will it take for you to leave us alone?” Her fake concern made me sick to my stomach. I stood up to leave, but she grabbed my jacket by the waist. “Evie, Julian and I have a child who’s already a teenager! Are you still refusing to let go? Do you insist on being a homewrecker?” I yanked hard at my jacket, but she held on tight, refusing to let go. In the struggle, my jacket was torn off, revealing a section of my forearm, marred by a hideous, twisted burn scar. She stared at me, stunned. I quickly snatched my jacket back, accidentally sweeping her bag off the table. Her phone slid out, and I saw it then: she’d clipped a camera onto it. She was livestreaming. “OMG! She has so many scars!” “Must be from getting beaten in prison, serves her right!” “Looks terrifying, not like beatings. Maybe she’s self-harming? No wonder she’s so obsessive!” “Poor Blair, look what she’s been driven to!” The livestream comments were instantly flooded with malicious speculation. I shut off the livestream, not wanting so many strangers peering into my life. The moment the livestream ended, Blair’s expression completely changed. Replaced by pure hatred. “Evie! How dare you show your face here again? You’re a murderer! You tried to kill me ten years ago, and ten years later, you almost killed my son!” “And now you’re stalking my husband, harassing him, trying to destroy my family! If your parents knew how utterly despicable you are, they’d turn over in their graves!” Her chest heaved violently, flecks of spit landing on my face. “Why are you staring at me like that? Am I wrong?”

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My husband said I wasn’t sexy enough, that in bed I was like a dead fish. He sent me to “The Allure Academy” to learn how to be a better woman. The instructor measured my bust, waist, and hips in front of everyone. “Your husband paid for our Platinum Course, including the Intensive Training Session.” “Men just love a woman with a little edge.” On graduation day, my husband’s face turned ashen watching the video of me and Coach Marcus. I touched my bruised wrist and chuckled softly, “Didn’t you insist I learn this?” “Am I still not ‘good enough’?” Later, he knelt on broken glass, begging me to come home. I raised my bandaged hand for him to see: “Now, all I want is for you to taste the same agonizing torment.” A searing pain exploded, and warm, sticky liquid trickled down my forehead. “…Who are you giving that dead stare to? Elara, I’m spending a fortune on you, not to have you play the saint here! It’s practically bad luck to touch you. Is Liam Chen short on women or what?!” I snapped my head up, my vision a blood-red blur. “What are you looking at?” Enraged, he kicked my shinbone again. The pain was so intense I instantly curled into a ball. “Fake it! Keep faking it!” He grabbed my hair, forcing me to confront my disheveled self in the full-length mirror. “Look at you! What man would even get excited seeing that? Serena was right, you’re just begging for some training!” Serena was right… That phrase felt sickeningly familiar. “Speak!” His patience finally snapped. He shoved me to the ground. The phone rang. A syrupy sweet female voice drifted from the speaker: “…Liam, Elara might just be a bit distant, she probably didn’t mean to reject you… Oh, if only she could be more like me, and know how to make a man happy…” It was Serena. Liam’s chief secretary, and his childhood friend he always considered like a sister. A woman always impeccably made up, her laughter charming, yet she constantly cast a subtle, unsettling shadow over my relationship with Liam. Liam’s eyes flared with even more anger as he shot me a furious glare. “Fine, can’t communicate, huh? I’ve found a great place for you. You’ll learn how to be a real woman!” A flimsy promotional flyer, crumpled into a ball, hit my face with a harsh thud. On the flyer, next to the artfully stylized words “The Allure Academy: Reclaiming Your Feminine Essence,” was a picture of a woman with a perfect smile and captivating eyes. A veritable sensual goddess. “Pack your things!” Liam’s command left no room for argument. “First thing tomorrow, I’m taking you there. Elara, you’d better come back a proper woman!” I wanted to scream back, to smash everything he’d ever given me, to wound him with the sharpest words, just like we used to argue. Instead, I reached out, timidly tugging at his pant leg. My voice was thin, trembling: “…I’ll go, Liam, I’ll go learn…. Please don’t be angry, don’t leave me…” Liam froze for a moment, seemingly surprised by my quick surrender, especially in such a pathetic state. His gaze flickered with a complex emotion, a fleeting hint of remorse, but it was swiftly eclipsed by deeper irritation. He yanked his hand away, though his tone softened imperceptibly: “…Wouldn’t it have been easier to just listen earlier? Pack your things. I’ll take you tomorrow.” He turned and walked away, his back a wall of resolve.

“The Allure Academy” occupied the top floor of a high-rise office building. The interior decor was excessively opulent. The receptionist, with a professionally perfect smile, led Liam and me into a consultation room. A woman in a tailored suit, who introduced herself as Ms. Evelyn Blackwood, greeted us. She looked meticulously polished from head to toe, her eyes appraising everyone with a calculated gaze. “Mr. Chen, we completely understand your concerns.” Ms. Blackwood’s voice was sickeningly sweet, yet her gaze swept over me like a surgeon’s scalpel. “Modern marriages require couples to grow together, especially women. They must constantly maintain their allure and… that is the core philosophy of our courses.” Liam reclined on the sofa, looking relaxed, as if he’d found a kindred spirit: “I just feel like she can’t keep up with me. She’s so dreary all the time, and in bed especially… huff…” He paused, glancing at me with disgust, “Absolutely no passion.” He seemed intent on wounding me with his words. Ms. Blackwood nodded knowingly, then smiled at me, a smile devoid of warmth: “Mrs. Chen, please understand that your husband is your world, your north star. Fulfilling your husband’s every need and maintaining marital harmony is a woman’s greatest value and purpose. Here, we help you rediscover that value.” I lowered my head, staring at the worn-out tips of my faded canvas sneakers, my nails digging deep into my palms. “We’ll conduct a comprehensive initial assessment for Mrs. Chen,” Ms. Blackwood pressed a call button on the table, “including physical form, demeanor, and… a partial obedience assessment. Rest assured, we follow the most scientific procedures.” The door opened, and two women, also in tailored suits with stern expressions, entered. They looked like trained attendants. “Take Mrs. Chen to the assessment room.” Ms. Blackwood instructed. Liam waved his hand, dismissing me like an unnecessary object: “Go on, cooperate with the instructors.” I was pinned to the spot by the casual indifference in his words. Not until the two women took my arms, one on each side, half-forcing me away from the consultation room. Their fingers were strong, digging into my flesh. The assessment room was more spacious than I imagined, with mirrors on all four walls reflecting countless images of my pale, bewildered self. In the center of the room was something resembling an examination table. “Take it off.” The female assistant coach ordered, her face expressionless. My body stiffened, and I instinctively hugged my arms around myself. A flash of memory: Liam shielding me, his cold eyes on anyone who dared disrespect me. But now, the one pushing me here was him. “The initial assessment requires precise body measurements. Anything you’re wearing will interfere with the results.” The other woman added, her eyes devoid of emotion, as if stating the most ordinary fact. Humiliation flooded over me, my cheeks burning. “No… I can’t…” I whispered my protest, tears welling up instantly, fully playing the part of a terrified, weak woman. “You have no choice!” The two assistant coaches stepped forward, roughly tearing at my clothes. Buttons popped, the sound of fabric ripping was jarring. “Let me go! Please! Liam… Liam will be angry if he knows…” I struggled, cried out, revealing my fear of and dependence on my husband, which only made their actions more audacious. “Mr. Chen paid good money for us to make you better and obedient!”

In just a few seconds, I stood naked before the mirrors. Terrified and resigned, I stood in the center of the room, surrounded by reflections of myself. Ms. Blackwood had “casually” mentioned earlier: “Mr. Chen has many excellent female friends around him, like Ms. Serena, who truly understands how to improve herself and maintain her charm. Mrs. Chen, you need to feel a sense of urgency!” The humiliation threatened to drown me. I bit my lip hard, not allowing myself to lose control, just silently weeping, my body trembling slightly. Bust, waist, hips… The feel of the measuring tape cinched against my skin was cold and disgusting. She measured, boldly calling out the data without reservation. The other woman recorded beside her, occasionally adding a comment or two. “Breast dimension is acceptable, but lacks firmness; requires specialized training.” “Waistline shows excess fat, needs management.” “Skin is dry, pigmented, severely lacking daily care.” Their voices, along with the images in the mirror, converged into a public, slow vivisection of my soul. I closed my eyes, but those voices, those cold touches, were inescapable. Liam. It was Liam who sent me here. It was he who condoned, even demanded, all of this. This realization, more than standing here humiliated, tore at my heart. The initial assessment was just day one, just the beginning. The subsequent “courses” were given various names: “Body Sculpting,” “Vocal Allure,” “Captivating Gaze,” “The Art of Service.” All the training pointed to one core objective – how to please a man? Specifically, how to please Liam. “Your gaze should be hesitant, alluring, with a hook, understand?” A male coach roughly lifted my chin with his fingers, his nails scraping painfully against my skin. “Don’t just stare! Dead fish eyes! Start over!” “Your voice! Squeezed from your throat! Can’t you do it? Ever heard a cat purr? Men fall for that!” Another female instructor forcefully slapped my back, “Stand tall! A颤音! A little breathy! Is that talking? That’s a funeral dirge!” They prodded me, scolded me, negated me. Every instruction was outrageously specific, every detail magnified into an unforgivable flaw. — Day three was “Body Awakening.” Day four, the training room was carpeted. Coach Marcus, one of the men present during the initial assessment, was there. He was tall, his eyes always carrying a discerning, critical look, as if he were inspecting goods. “Many women, especially those like you who have long lacked certain… experiences…” He paced in front of me, toying with a slender, gleaming cane in his hand. “Your body is stiff, your nerves numb. It requires some… strong, effective treatment to awaken them, and to establish conditioned reflexes.” He gently tapped my calf with the cane: “Crawl.” I stood rigid, my blood seeming to freeze. “You monsters! You’ll go to any lengths, you’re all going to hell!” “I said, crawl.” The cane lifted, and without warning, with a whistle through the air, it came down hard on the same spot on my calf. “Ah!” The sharp pain made me cry out instantly, my calf feeling as if it had been scalded. My muscles spasmed uncontrollably, my body went limp, and I fell with a thud onto the rough carpet. My knees hit hard, stinging. “See? You can crawl, can’t you?”

Coach Marcus scoffed, using the cane to lift my face. “Look at you, pathetic. What kind of adorable little creature do you resemble?!” Humiliation and fury burned through my insides. I glared at him, defiantly. “Smack!” Another strike, on my other calf, with even more force. The stinging pain shot straight to my head. “Still not moving?!” His voice was flat, devoid of emotion, only cold command, “Or do you want to try something more painful?” The cane swished threateningly before my eyes. My vision blurred with tears, and waves of pain washed over my calves. Before another strike could land, I surrendered. On all fours, like a real animal, I slowly, laboriously began to crawl forward. “Woof… woof…” The sounds were barely audible, choked with uncontrollable sobs. “Didn’t you eat? Louder! And make it sweet!” The cane tapped my back. I squeezed my eyes shut, took a deep breath, and summoned every ounce of strength. I let out a more agonizing, more distorted sound: “Woof woof woof~~” The assistant coaches around me let out low, suppressed chuckles. Coach Marcus poked my forehead with the cane, sneering, “I heard your husband’s secretary, Serena, is better than you in every way – looks, figure, tactics! If you don’t learn properly, someone else will take your place when you go back!” In that moment, something inside me shattered completely. Liam, is this the dog you wanted? Gradually. I became unusually “obedient.” I even cried and asked Ms. Blackwood after a punishment: “Instructor, am I still not doing well enough? Will Liam be dissatisfied?” Ms. Blackwood was pleased with my “transformation,” believing their “therapy” to be highly effective. Liam would occasionally call, and Ms. Blackwood would keep it on speaker. “She’s been performing very well lately, making great progress, learning to listen.” Ms. Blackwood reported. “Hmm.” Liam’s voice was unreadable. “…She hasn’t caused any more trouble, has she?” “Don’t worry, Mr. Chen. She’s perfectly compliant now, she knows who her world revolves around.” “…That’s good.” A brief silence followed from his end of the line. I huddled in the corner, listening to that “hmm” and the silence. Perhaps there was a flicker of hesitation in him, but in the end, he chose to believe in the necessity of this “transformation.” — And only in the dead of night, returning to that cramped, windowless temporary dormitory. Lying on the cold bed, tracing the new scars on my body, would my heart belatedly send a sharp, dense ache. But even that ache would quickly be drowned by overwhelming fatigue. Liam would still call occasionally, not to me, but to Ms. Blackwood to “check on my progress.” Ms. Blackwood always put him on speaker, letting me “eavesdrop.” She called it “feeling your husband’s concern and expectations.” “Her? She’s alright, making a little progress, I guess… but she’s still a bit stubborn, needs a bit more discipline…” “Don’t worry, Mr. Chen, we’ll take good care of her for you. We guarantee you’ll be satisfied when she returns…” “The Intensive Training Session? It’s scheduled for later. That’s our Platinum Course; the results are immediate…” Ms. Blackwood’s voice was laced with a smile, coming through the speaker. I curled up in a corner of the room, hugging my knees, listening to Liam’s occasional, vague affirmations from the other end of the phone, like “Hmm,” “Okay,” “Thank you.” Not a single word asking if I was okay. He only cared about the “result.” A perfectly reshaped, submissive yet sexy wife, molded to his liking. The last faint glimmer of hope, that “he might regret it,” was extinguished. The training entered its final stage. Ms. Blackwood kept me behind after one of her lectures. “Mrs. Chen, congratulations. You’ve barely passed the foundational courses.” Her face still held that standard smile, but her eyes now carried a different, unsettling meaning. “Next, we have a specially added ‘Platinum Course’ just for you – the ‘Intensive Training Session.’” My heart leaped, and a strong, ominous premonition seized me.

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Three years after marrying my husband, his adopted son came to propose to me. “Stella, Willow saved my life, and now that she has the dignity of a wealthy wife, I’ve come to marry you and make you my true wife.” I couldn’t be bothered to respond, but Julian Vance didn’t give up. “You proposed to me 99 times back then, I know deep down you only see me as your husband.” “Don’t worry. I’ll pick you up in seven days for our wedding. After that, the three of us will be one big family.” I lifted my hand and slammed the door in his face. How ridiculous. I had just given Arthur, Julian’s father, a little brother, and Arthur had specifically brought me back to the country to hold a belated wedding ceremony. I never expected to run into this disgusting person again. Well, good. Seven days later, fifty-year-old Arthur agreed to announce me as his heir at the wedding. That way, it would save Julian the trouble of having to call me ‘Mom.’ Julian blocked the door, a smile playing in his eyes: “Your temper is still as fiery as it was back then, no one could ever push you around.” Then he changed his tone, his voice softening. “Willow is different from you; she’s delicate and can’t handle gossip. In front of outsiders, you should call her Mrs. Vance.” “Even though I can’t give you the same grand wedding as Willow, in my heart, both of you are the most important people to me.” “I, Julian Vance, will either never marry, or if I do, I’ll marry both you and Willow.” Perhaps I’d seen too much of the world abroad, because I actually listened patiently to this preposterous declaration. “Julian, you weren’t the only one I had an arranged marriage prospect with back then. What makes you think I haven’t married someone else?” Julian’s eyes gleamed with pride. “You proposed to me 99 times back then; the whole city knew you were madly in love with me.” “Besides, we grew up together. Who in our circle would dare propose to *my* woman?” Julian’s voice deepened, imbued with arrogant superiority. “Stella, you’re too proud to accept me marrying you after having Willow, but your mother’s medical treatment is urgent.” “I know you’re tight on cash since the Sterling family went bankrupt. Just marry me, and I’ll bring in the top neurosurgeon from the Vance family to treat your mother.” I clenched my fists. Did he still think I was the helpless orphan he used to bully? Three years ago, on the day of my wedding with Julian. Willow Carter posted a photo on her SnapChat of her holding hands with some random guy at the church entrance. The caption read, “If it wasn’t for you, I’d marry anyone else.” Julian saw it and went crazy, determined to run from the wedding. I desperately blocked his path. “Julian, my mother’s brain cancer has worsened. The only Vance family doctor who can save her only treats family members. Please, just finish the wedding, then you can leave.” My desperate plea was met with Julian looking at me with a clueless expression, saying, “Willow saved my life, I can’t let her sacrifice her happiness.” “Your mother treats me like her own son; she won’t mind.” “You can just wait until I marry Willow, and then in a few years, I’ll make you my wife too. It’ll be the same.” The night Julian ran from the wedding, I stood in front of Arthur Vance’s car, begging him for a chance. Since then, I focused entirely on saving my mother, not caring for fame or fortune, quietly working as Arthur’s shadow. Yet, without realizing it, I slowly found my way into his heart. “I heard that for the past three years, you often returned to the old house where we lived together. You don’t need to say it, I know you’ve always missed me.” Julian had a smug, ‘I know everything’ look on his face. I was so angry I laughed. That old house was the wedding home my mother had designed for me. After she passed, I often stayed there because I missed her. I never thought Julian would misunderstand it as me still having feelings for him. I couldn’t hold back anymore and slammed the door right in his face. “Get out!” From behind the closed door, Julian’s nonchalant chuckle echoed. “I know you’re deeply in love with me. I’ll be on time at the cathedral in seven days to exchange vows with you.” I immediately called the patrolling security guard. “Blacklist this stalker. Don’t let him into the complex again.” Shaking off my irritation, I went to work as usual. Passing the breakroom, I saw Julian passionately kissing Willow Carter. Julian looked annoyed and arrogant. “You’re already struggling financially, why waste money hiring someone to track me? I told you I’d marry you, and I won’t go back on my word.” “Outside, Willow is my Mrs. Vance. Now hurry up and leave, don’t make things difficult for me.” “Look closely, this is my employee ID.” I pointed in front of me. Julian didn’t react to the ID, but when he saw the diamond ring on my finger, his expression changed. His voice trembled. “You couldn’t possibly afford a ring that’s been to auction.” “Stella, do you have another man?”

I stated frankly. “Of course, we’re getting married in seven days.” Julian’s voice instantly rose. “Whose bastard? Or some nouveau riche from a backwater town?” Willow tried to smooth things over. “Julian, Stella must have done some escort work because of her financial difficulties, and this marriage is just an excuse.” “You shouldn’t rub it in.” “Stella, you shouldn’t keep things from some random guy, it’ll just upset Julian.” Saying this, Willow yanked my diamond ring off, about to flush it down the toilet. I grabbed Willow’s wrist, and in the struggle, the diamond ring fell to the floor. Julian picked up the ring, and at that moment, he saw the birthdays of me and another person engraved on it. Nineteen seventy-five. “You actually slept with a fifty-year-old old man for money!” “Who is he? I’ll make him wish he’d never been born right now!” Julian’s expression was icy, and he advanced on me step by step. “Even if you don’t tell me, I can have people find out. Anyone who dares to touch my woman, I’ll utterly destroy them!” I stared at him and chuckled. I wondered what Arthur would think if he heard such disrespectful words from his adopted son. I composed myself and said seriously. “Your dad.” Julian punched the wall, gritting his teeth. “You think you can fool me? What kind of woman hasn’t my dad seen? How could he possibly be interested in a woman like you, with no background and no looks!” Willow seized the opportunity to agree, her tone laced with provocation. “Stella, Julian has always kept the wife’s position open for you. How can you be so shameless?” Julian’s eyes were bloodshot, and he spoke with a mixture of hatred and grievance. “You couldn’t even wait three short years, you degraded yourself to become someone else’s plaything! Do you really believe that no matter what you do, I’ll always have your back?” “My reputation, Julian Vance’s reputation, is completely ruined because of you!” He gasped for breath, as if making a monumental concession. “Since you’re so shameless, don’t bother with the cathedral. There’s a villa in the Northside you can move into, and I’ll spend one day a weekend with you from now on.” “Once you’re my woman, I’ll reward you with a villa for every child you bear.” I laughed, truly exasperated. So, I went from being his “sought-after” wife to a hidden mistress, and now a tool to bear his children? Willow leaned close to my ear, lowering her voice, her smile growing more triumphant. “Have a child, Stella. You get a house, we get a child. Once we have a child, we can find a way to get rid of that tramp around his father, so they don’t threaten Julian’s position.” My expression was strange. The “tramp” Willow spoke of, wasn’t that me? After all this commotion, Julian wanted me to have his child to use against myself and my son? Just then, Julian called over Mr. Davis, pointing at me. “Give her an intern position, so she doesn’t sneak into the company with a stolen employee card and embarrass me!” Mr. Davis didn’t even glance at Julian but hurried to my side and bowed respectfully. “Vice President Vance, Mr. Arthur has instructed that you have full authority over all company matters.” I simply hummed in acknowledgment. Julian stood rooted to the spot, looking as if he’d seen a ghost.

“Stella? How could you be the company’s Vice President?” Taking advantage of Julian’s distraction, I snatched back my diamond ring and casually replied, “I’m Arthur Vance’s wife. What’s so strange about me being in this position?” “Wife?” Julian laughed loudly. “You think you can pretend with a fake ring? I’ve seen my dad’s ring since I was a kid; it’s not this style at all!” Willow also pursed her lips and chuckled. “Stella, even if you want to find a rich man, at least come up with a more believable excuse!” Mr. Davis’s face darkened, about to speak, but Julian pushed him aside and roughly dragged me into the conference room. “I want to hear what other lies you can come up with!” Julian then connected his phone to the projector. The next second, my broken voice played from the speakers. On the screen, there were close-up shots of Julian’s faked video, depicting us in a physical embrace. In the video, Julian’s face was blurred, but mine was crystal clear. Julian’s eyes were full of mockery. “You used to pretend to be pure, saying you’d only give yourself to me after marriage. Now, to scam money, you even dare to invent a lie like ‘marrying my dad’?” “If I post this video, won’t everyone think you’re a ruthless woman who’ll do anything to climb the ladder?” I averted my eyes from the disgusting images, clenching my fists. “Julian, my marriage certificate with your dad, Arthur, is at home.” “Marriage certificate?” “I’ll call my dad right now and see if he recognizes his ‘wife’!” Julian grew even more confident, picking up his phone to dial. I stopped him, not wanting such a scene, but Julian thought I was scared. “It’s simple if you don’t want me to call.” “I’m sentimental. How about you just become my woman today? It’s much better than you putting on this farce.” I forcefully pushed him away, my voice cold with rage. “Let go of me! Julian, you’ll regret this!” Julian sneered, pushing his body even closer. “Regret? I only regret not seeing how much of an actress you were back then!” I was about to retort when the conference room door suddenly burst open. Willow rushed in with a group of people, her face pale. “Something bad happened! Mr. Vance… Mr. Vance fainted in his office!” “Fainted?” Julian’s eyes lit up. He pushed me away and loudly slandered, “Stella! You came to the company to cause trouble and actually angered my dad into fainting!” Willow, seeing her chance, triumphantly flashed her phone. The screen showed a clip of Arthur clutching his chest and collapsing after a “dispute” with me. “Everyone, look!” Then, she held her phone up high, shouting in a shrill voice, “Stella forced Mr. Vance to give her a title! She knew Mr. Vance had a bad heart, but she deliberately left him alone! Now he’s fainted; she’s a murderer!” A tide of whispers surged, and even Mr. Davis looked at me with a frown, his gaze wavering. “That tramp is too vicious!” “She’d even harm someone for money? She has no shame!” Looking at the two twisting the truth before me, I suddenly calmed down. Julian never believed I married his dad and was just taking this opportunity to force me to surrender. But I was worried about Arthur’s safety and wanted to leave, only for Julian to seize the chance, grabbing my collar and dragging me into the office. “Stella, I’m sentimental. If you’re willing to be my mistress, I can drop the matter about my father… Anyway, your ‘Arthur’s wife’ lie can’t be sustained any longer.” *Slap!* A crisp sound echoed loudly. Julian clutched his face, his eyes full of malice, and forcefully pinned me against the wall. “You dared to hit me? Still stubbornly claiming you married my dad? I’m telling you, even if my dad dies, he’d never acknowledge a woman like you!” *Rip!* Julian tore open my top. The next second, a soft, tearful voice rang out. The back door of the office was pushed open by a small body. Three-year-old Leo clung to my clothes, his small face streaked with tears, reaching out to pry Julian’s hand away: “Bad man! Let go of my Mommy!” It was Leo! I had just dropped him off at school this morning; how did he get here?

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At the company’s annual gala, Chloe’s male secretary, Leo, suddenly played a recording, claiming I’d leaked company secrets. I was about to explain when Chloe snapped one of my fingers. “Alex, how dare you! I’ve provided for you, given you everything, and this is how you betray me?!” She knew perfectly well that this company wouldn’t be where it was today without my art, without every single stroke I’d painted. My fingers were my life. I shoved Chloe away, clutching my hands, the searing pain making me gasp as I glared at her. “Chloe, I never said those things in that recording. You’d rather believe someone who’s only been here for six months than me?” “Leo never lies!” Chloe cut me off, her voice sharp as a blade. “Alex, your constant need to take credit is disgusting. Since you won’t admit your mistake, I’m going to make you pay today!” As she spoke, Leo, a cruel smirk twisting his lips, slammed me to the ground. Chloe grabbed a knife and plunged it straight into my palm. Then, her sky-high stiletto heel pressed down, grinding into the wound. “Alex, today I’m crippling your hands. Let’s see how honest you are after this!” I looked at my bloody, mangled hands and spat at Chloe’s feet. Fine. Without these hands, I’d like to see how her company survives.

Seeing the rage in my face, Fury exploded in Chloe’s eyes. She glared at me with utter disgust, Then stormed into her office, snatched the golf club I’d bought her, and charged back at me. “Chloe, don’t…” Before I could finish, the golf club crashed down on my hand. A sickening *crack, crack* echoed as bones shattered, And an agonizing pain shot through my entire body. My right hand, every finger, was definitely pulverized. I stared, aghast, at my right hand, now limp as a rag. I’d spent half my life painting. My hands were more important to me than my life. Chloe knew this… My eyes burned with grief and indignation as I fumbled for my phone to call an ambulance. If I didn’t get help fast, I knew I’d never pick up a paintbrush again. With my freshly punctured left hand, I clumsily picked up my phone. “9…1…” Just as I was about to press “1,” Chloe lunged forward and smacked the phone out of my hand. “You mess up and still have the nerve to call an ambulance?! Alex, look at you, I even pay for your phone bill. How can you spend my money every day, yet stab me in the back?!” Chloe’s art company’s biggest source of income was my paintings. Every day, people lined up, ready to drop millions to buy my art. But I’d turned them all away, Insisting my paintings only be exhibited at the company’s shows. Because of my art, Tickets to Chloe’s exhibitions were now impossible to get. “Alex, apologize to Leo! Now! Otherwise, you won’t be getting an ambulance today!” I stared in disbelief at the woman I had personally built up, my wife. “Chloe, my hands are my life, you know that…” Chloe glanced at my bleeding hand. “Of course, I know. So if you want to save your ‘life,’ apologize quickly!” Nearby, I heard my colleagues’ whispers. “He messed up and still acts like this? He’s so full of himself just because he has a bit of talent!” “Talent? If his paintings weren’t shown at our company’s exhibitions, they’d probably be in the trash! He deserves to have his hands ruined, teach him a lesson!” “Leo’s talent is quite good, though. His hands look like they belong to a top artist!” “Totally, Ms. Chloe wouldn’t pick wrong…” Each sarcastic word was a dagger, plunging my heart into an icy abyss. Most of my colleagues were artists I’d scouted from the streets, They had dreams of painting, But couldn’t make enough money, Forced to do hard labor, wait tables, or entertain in bars just to support their passion. I brought them into the company, Supported them for years, giving them a chance to showcase their talent on the path of their dreams. Their tearful, profound gratitude felt like it happened yesterday, Yet now, they were humiliating me like this… As I turned, Leo suddenly lunged from behind Chloe, Kicking me in the knee. He held me down, half-kneeling, and snarled, “Alex, Chloe is giving you grace by asking for an apology. If you keep being stubborn as a mule and just as obnoxious, don’t blame me for getting rough!” I forcefully shook Leo off, Clenching my fist, I punched him squarely in the face. I’d been working out for years; taking down this punk was easy. Blood bloomed across Leo’s face from the impact. Seeing Leo injured, Chloe rushed to his side, helping him up, Her eyes full of concern, she whispered soothingly, “Don’t worry, Leo, I’ll take care of this!” Then, Chloe turned towards me. “Alex, you—” “Chloe, let’s get a divorce.”

Chloe froze. I had no more time to argue with her. My hands couldn’t wait. While she was stunned, I borrowed the cleaning lady’s phone. “Chloe, you don’t pay for the cleaning lady’s phone bill, do you?” Gritting my teeth against the searing pain in my palm, I dialed emergency services. Then I looked at Chloe. “Chloe, I’ll leave with nothing. When we got married, I had $183,000 in my account. That was my money. I’ll use my own money to fix my own hands. From this moment on, you have no right to control me.” With that, I ignored Chloe’s rigid expression and left the office, Sitting on a sofa in the hallway. There was a hospital less than a mile away; the ambulance would surely arrive quickly. For my hands, I couldn’t leave just yet. Chloe was making calls inside the office, but it no longer concerned me. While waiting for the ambulance, my phone buzzed with a message notification. 【Alex, we genuinely appreciate your talent and are willing to invest in it. We’ve decided to inject three hundred billion into Chloe’s company. We’ll meet you at the company tomorrow to discuss it further.】 I suddenly remembered today was the day the investors would give their answer. That bastard Leo had made me forget. I should have explained the situation to them, but my hands couldn’t send messages now. So, I guess I’d just inconvenience them to come tomorrow… The hurried footsteps running down the hallway pulled me back to reality. The paramedics were finally here… The lead paramedic gave my right hand a quick look and sighed. “Which monster did this to his hand?! Luckily, you called so quickly, or this hand would be completely lost!” He quickly turned to grab some equipment to treat me. But just as he was about to start, Chloe burst out of the office. She snatched the equipment from the paramedic’s hands and threw it into the trash. I quickly stood up, cornering Chloe against the wall with my shoulder, My eyes bloodshot as I gritted my teeth. “Chloe, what the hell are you doing?!” “Alex, I just bought this entire building. Since you’re so tough, don’t you dare treat your disgusting hands on my property!” The paramedic behind me suddenly straightened up, His eyes blazing with anger as he looked at Chloe. “Ma’am, if this gentleman’s hand isn’t treated immediately, it’ll be permanently ruined! I don’t care what issues you two have, doctors save lives!” “Please leave. We need to treat this gentleman’s injuries!” The paramedic stepped forward to treat my wounds, But before he could reach me, Leo shoved him away. Then, the company’s bodyguards, in unison, stepped forward to block the paramedics. Leo flashed a smirk and aimed his phone at me. “Alex, just admit you leaked company secrets, and we’ll immediately send you to the hospital. We’ll even use Ms. Chloe’s helicopter to take you to the best orthopedic hospital in New York City.” “Otherwise, just wait to become a cripple!” I turned and stared intensely at Chloe. “Chloe…” A triumphant smile played on Chloe’s lips. She casually rubbed the spot where I’d pinned her, then spoke calmly. “Why are you looking at me? Leo already gave you a way out. If you don’t want to take it, there’s nothing I can do…” The paramedics’ anxious shouts came from behind me. “Mr. Alexander, if your hand is delayed any longer, it truly won’t be salvageable! Saving your hand is the priority!” Thinking of the career I’d loved my entire life, And my father’s dying wish for me to carry on his craft, I fought back tears, gritted my teeth, and spoke into Leo’s phone camera. “I admit it, I leaked company secrets…” After reciting the lines Leo had prepared, A paramedic stepped forward and grabbed Leo’s arm. “Too much time has already passed. That helicopter Ms. Chloe mentioned…” “The pilot, Mr. Wu, his nephew got married and he went back home. The helicopter can’t move.” Chloe interrupted the paramedic, A smile of triumph mixed with disgust on her face as she turned and walked away…

The surgery on my hands took eighteen hours… When they wheeled me out of the operating room, The pale-faced surgeon bowed deeply to me. “Mr. Alexander, we truly did our best, but the results are far from ideal. I’m afraid you won’t be able to paint again…” Salty tears flowed down my cheeks and into my heart, stirring boundless bitterness. I forced a smile, my eyes pleading as I looked at her. “It’s okay. Please, just give me a painkiller now. I need to be discharged. I have so much waiting for me outside…” “No, if we give you more anesthetic, your hands will definitely be completely ruined!” I dropped to my knees before the surgeon. “Please…” Two hours later, The anesthetic took effect. I smiled as I was discharged, looking at the blood-soaked bandages on my hands. Since you ruined me, then let’s all go down together. First, I went to the company’s ongoing exhibition in the city and tore up all my paintings. Then I rushed to the office, And deleted all my ideas, all my sketches, from the computer… While I was destroying the half-finished paintings in Chloe’s office, Chloe burst in with Leo. She stared at the shredded paintings scattered on the floor and completely lost it. “Alex, what is the meaning of this?! You tore up the paintings at the exhibition, what about the tens of millions in tickets we sold?!” “And what does it mean to tear up all these paintings?!” Chloe looked at my bandaged hands, stained with blood. A cruel glint flashed in her eyes. She lunged forward and grabbed my freshly-operated wound, Gritting her teeth. “Alex, answer me!” Even with the heavy dose of anesthetic, it couldn’t block the sudden, excruciating pain. Cold sweat instantly beaded on my forehead. I shoved Chloe away, looking at the ‘remains’ of the paintings on the floor, and smirked. “It means nothing. It means I’m going to destroy you, just like you destroyed me a few hours ago!” Rage exploded in Chloe’s eyes. After a few seconds of silence, she suddenly burst into laughter. “Destroy me? Alex, you’re so naive. The copyrights to those paintings you just tore up were transferred to the company’s name ages ago! They’re not yours anymore! Forget tearing them, even if you just dirtied a corner, you’d have to pay damages!” “I’ve done a rough calculation for you. You tore up forty-five paintings. At market price, one painting…” Chloe’s words exploded in my mind with a *boom!* I couldn’t hear anything she said after that. I frantically pulled out my phone, found the painting copyright page, And when I saw the copyright had been transferred six months ago, My heart plummeted into the abyss. She had planned this all along… Six months ago was right when Leo joined the company. Perhaps, they had planned everything.

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In my past life, my parents divorced. My younger sister, Brianna, was taken by our wealthy mother, while I stayed with our bankrupt dad. Who knew Mom would remarry a domestic abuser, her life spiraling downwards? Meanwhile, Dad became more ambitious and eventually found success. Brianna was consumed by jealousy. She plunged a knife into my stomach. When I opened my eyes again, we were back to the day our parents officially finalized their divorce. This time, Brianna spoke first: “I love Dad! I want to stay with Dad.” I was secretly thrilled. I definitely wasn’t going to live that life of hiding again. Brianna clung to Dad’s arm, pouting sweetly. “Please, Dad, let me stay with you! I love you most in the world, and I’m not afraid of a little hardship.” Spoiled and headstrong her whole life, my sister saying something like that really touched Dad. He didn’t even notice Mom’s furious expression beside him. “No! Brianna will suffer with you. I have to take her.” Mom stepped forward to stop him. Brianna would suffer with Dad? What about me? Didn’t I matter? My parents were fiercely fighting over Brianna’s custody, as if I were invisible, completely forgotten. Finally, they couldn’t argue with Brianna, who was dead set on going with Dad. Mom reluctantly chose me. I got into my stepfather’s luxury car with Mom. Brianna skipped away, holding Dad’s hand. Before leaving, she cast a provocative glance my way. I didn’t care. After all, Mom was loaded now, and Dad’s side was nothing but trouble.

In my past life, Dad dragged me around, constantly hiding from creditors. I couldn’t focus on school at all. The business failure and Mom leaving had hit him hard. He completely gave up, drinking heavily in a cheap rental, not caring about anything. I was an excellent student, but I couldn’t afford tuition, and I had to take care of him. I dropped out of school early to support us. Even though we came from the same family, Brianna was always luckier. She was prettier, knew how to charm our parents. And since she was younger, they always told me, “You’re the older sister, you should set an example. Give in to Brianna.” Even after the divorce, both parents only wanted her. But in this life, she ultimately chose Dad, giving him a moment of triumph over Mom. Sitting in the car, Mom immediately started lecturing me. “You’ve always been plain and unlikeable. Now that we’re living with Mr. Caldwell, don’t you dare embarrass me.” It was laughable. What kind of mother says that to her own daughter? But whatever. The car drove into an affluent neighborhood with sprawling estates. I knew my stepfather was rich in my last life, but I never realized *how* rich. Mr. Caldwell enrolled me in the best private school in the city. I had a dedicated driver picking me up and dropping me off every day. Determined to make up for my missed education in my past life, I studied relentlessly. I really made him proud, consistently ranking in the top three every year. Mom, who had always been distant, was now more than happy to attend parent-teacher conferences. When she went, other parents envied her, and teachers praised her as an exemplary parent. Plus, Mr. Caldwell had no children of his own, so I had a pretty comfortable life in that house. “Mr. Caldwell, I want to study abroad.” “You’re just a kid. Why go abroad? Don’t think a few good grades mean you can achieve anything you want.” Mr. Caldwell hadn’t even spoken, but my own mother was already agitatedly cutting me off. Later, I learned that there truly is no reason to hate someone. Even between a mother and her own daughter.

Mr. Caldwell wasn’t like Mom and Brianna had described in my past life – temperamental, overbearing, and violent. Instead, I found him incredibly intelligent, though proud and strong-willed. His conflicts with Mom surfaced soon after we moved in. Mom was a complete airhead—all looks, no brains. Honestly, she and Dad were a match made in heaven. Dad was a true trust-fund kid, always more brawn than brains. It was pure stubbornness and money that got him Mom. While my grandparents were alive, they propped him up. After they passed away, those useless friends of his dragged him into bad investments. He lost all his wealth and everything my grandparents left him. Mom immediately found a new husband and divorced him. My plans to study abroad were thwarted by Mom’s interference. But with my grades, I could easily get into a top university in the country anyway. “Brianna’s here!” “Maria, is Mom home?” “Your mother went shopping, but your sister is upstairs reading.” I heard Brianna’s footsteps approaching my room. She just barged into my room without a knock or permission. “Amber, what’s with the act? Nobody’s home. Who are you trying to impress with all this studying?” She walked straight over and snatched my book away. Brianna was supposed to be living with Dad. But almost every month, she’d come to our house to get money from Mom, along with various jewelry and clothes. She’d leave with an entire carload. Then, the next month, she’d still be wearing ragged clothes. All the good stuff ended up being pawned by my gambling dad to fuel his wasteful habits. In this life, Dad wasn’t just an alcoholic; he was also a heavy gambler. Mom actually felt bad that Brianna was living a hard life with Dad. She even talked to Mr. Caldwell about bringing Brianna to live with us. He agreed, but Dad wouldn’t let her go. He was relying on Brianna to keep squeezing money and things out of Mom to support his lifestyle. “You’ve studied yourself stupid! What’s the point of all those books? You’re not even as pretty as me, and neither Mom nor Dad even like you.” “These good days you’re living? I handed them to you. Enjoy them while you can, because they won’t last.” She casually rummaged through my belongings in my room. Right. In my past life, this room was her princess room. She searched everywhere. “Tsk, tsk, tsk. You don’t even know how to enjoy a good life! What trash is all this stuff?” “All you do is bury your nose in those boring books every day.” I ignored her, letting her wreak havoc. “Brianna, is that my precious Brianna?” I watched them coldly, putting on their pathetic mother-daughter charade. Mom saw my room completely ransacked. “What good stuff could you possibly find in her room? Come on, let’s go to my room. I just bought a bunch of clothes, jewelry, and accessories. Take whatever you like.” With that, she dragged Brianna out. She didn’t spare me a glance, not even a single word of concern. Maria brought up a glass of fresh orange juice. She walked into my room and expertly started tidying up. “I’ve never seen a mother so biased,” she muttered. Whatever. Her good days were numbered anyway.

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Everyone in our circle knew I was absolutely obsessed with Damon. And he, in turn, gave me what seemed like a perfect marriage. For three years, he showered me with lavish gifts, never once being stingy, and his life was pristine, without a single whisper of scandal. I truly believed I had finally melted Damon, this impenetrable ice king. Until I saw him with my own eyes – the man who was meticulously neat, taking off his jacket to shield another woman, holding her close in his arms. That’s when I understood. He wasn’t born cold and detached. He simply reserved all his warmth and passion for a woman named Willow. **Chapter 1** **Chloe’s pov** It was my third wedding anniversary with Damon, and I was heading to the club with a cake and gifts to celebrate his birthday. But just outside the VIP room, I overheard a game of truth or dare that revolved around me. “…Chloe is so good to him, truly treating him like he’s made of fragile glass, or fearing he’d melt if she held him too close.” “Good? Oh, she’s good alright. Obedient, understanding, and most importantly, utterly devoted to Damon. But it’s just not the same.” My hand, holding the cake, froze mid-air. I had begged a renowned French pastry chef to recreate the one cake he’d ever praised. The gift I’d prepared for him was a rare antique, one I’d waited three hours at an auction to win. I’d planned to give him a perfect surprise. Instead, hearing those words, a bitter ache twisted in my heart. “You guys never saw Damon and Willow together back then. *That* was living. After Willow left, he was a wreck. If it weren’t for the alliance with the Chen family later, and Chloe being so stubbornly persistent, who knows what state Damon would be in right now.” Willow. The name, like an ice-cold needle, pierced sharply into my heart. My nails dug into my flesh, but I felt no pain at all. Inside the room, another voice chimed in with a mocking laugh, “Alright, enough with the reminiscing. Damon, I heard Willow is coming back the day after tomorrow. The real queen is returning. What’s your plan?” The VIP room fell silent instantly. I held my breath, desperate to hear his answer. I heard the crisp clink of ice against glass, then his familiar, indifferent voice. He didn’t answer. He simply asked flatly: “Who needs more ice?” But those four words hit me like a sledgehammer, shattering all my persistence and every fantasy I had ever held. My head spun, buzzing with a hollow ache. I had chased him for six years. I was the darling youngest daughter of the Chen family, bright, bold, and used to getting everything I wanted since childhood. But with Damon, I stumbled. The porridge I made? He gave it to his driver. The portrait I painted? He locked it away in a dusty storage room. Any folder I touched? He would meticulously wipe it down with disinfectant wipes three times, right in front of me. Yet, I refused to give up. I believed my fiery passion would one day melt his icy heart. Eventually, he actually agreed to a marriage of convenience with me. I thought I had won, that my unwavering love had finally moved him. It wasn’t until today that I realized the truth. It wasn’t. His heart had simply died. He couldn’t marry the woman he loved, so he didn’t care who he married instead. And I? I was just the most convenient and obedient choice, appearing at the right time. How ridiculous. My six years of effort, in his and his friends’ eyes, was merely a timely saving grace. My palms were slick with moisture, a mix of sweat and the tiny pinpricks of blood where my nails had dug in. I didn’t push the door open. Holding everything I had painstakingly prepared, I turned and walked towards the trash can. “Thud.” A muffled sound. I tossed the priceless cake and cufflinks inside. Along with them, I threw away my heart. *** **Damon’s pov** Half an hour later, I stepped out of the VIP room. As I rounded the corridor corner, a beautifully decorated trash can caught my eye. Inside, the familiar logo of a high-end French pastry shop came into view, next to it lay a deep blue gift bag. The ribbon peeking out of the bag was my preferred color. But… Why was this in the trash? **Chloe’s pov** I rushed out the club’s main entrance, only to collide with someone hurrying in. My body instantly lost balance, and I instinctively reached out, bracing myself against the cold door frame. A sharp, searing pain shot through my wrist at the awkward angle. I stumbled, and the other person also lost their footing. The cake box in my hand tumbled to the ground, the cake splattering miserably on the damp steps, looking utterly pathetic. I bit back a cry of pain and looked up, only to freeze the next second. It was Willow. Before I could even speak, Damon emerged. His gaze swept past me, landing directly on Willow. Willow’s eyes immediately reddened, her voice laced with a whimper and profound grievance. “Damon…” She looked at him pitifully, then pointed at the mess on the ground, “I’m so sorry… I ruined your birthday cake…” She then pointed to her own knee, which she’d scraped, though it was barely bleeding. “I wanted to surprise you… I flew back two days early just for this, but I never imagined…” One sentence, clearly explained everything. She was here for him. Damon’s brow furrowed, his face revealing unconcealed distress. He didn’t ask what had happened, nor did he hesitate for a second. He bent down, scooped Willow into his arms, carefully cradling her, and hurried towards his car parked by the curb. Throughout it all, he didn’t see me. Even as I sobbed from the pain, he ignored me. His car lights cut through the rainy night, speeding away, splashing water everywhere. I stood rooted to the spot, finally letting the tears fall. It turns out, as long as Willow was around, I wasn’t even a background prop. Her minor scrape was a thousand times more important than my own excruciating injury. I took a deep breath. Divorce. I must get a divorce. **Chapter 2** **Chloe’s pov** I went to the hospital alone. Luckily, it was just a minor sprain. The doctor applied an ice pack and gave me instructions for care. Returning to the villa, I was met only by darkness and silence. I buried myself in the sofa, but the throbbing pain in my wrist reminded me of how absurd everything tonight had been. Then, a post on SnapChat unexpectedly popped into my feed. I didn’t know which mutual friend posted it. The accompanying photo was a blurry night shot. At the hospital entrance, Willow was leaning weakly into a tall figure’s embrace. And that figure was shielding her completely with his suit jacket. The comments below were filled with suggestive speculation: [What a divine scene! He must be heartbroken.] Though the figure was blurry, the sharp lines of his profile were unmistakable. It was Damon. So, his notorious germophobia was reserved only for me. He *could* be gentle, but that gentleness was never meant for me. I forced a bitter smile and drifted off to sleep. When I woke again, I went straight to Damon’s room. The bed was neatly made, no sign of anyone having slept in it. He hadn’t come home all night. I stood at the doorway, pulled out my phone, and called my best friend, Cassie. “Cassie, can you draft up a divorce agreement for me?” It wasn’t until evening that Damon returned. When he walked in, I was sitting on the sofa watching a show, ignoring him. Perhaps out of guilt or remorse, Damon uncharacteristically asked me: “What do you want to eat?” I thought for a moment before answering: “Let’s go to that new French restaurant downtown. I mentioned it before, but we never had the chance.” “Okay.” Damon drove me to the restaurant. We ordered our meal and waited for it to be served. But the atmosphere was awkward and silent. Let this be our last meal together, I thought. After this, we’ll have no ties. I’ll grant him his freedom, and release myself. Everything proceeded harmoniously. This meal, if nothing went wrong, would be finished in quiet peace. But Damon’s phone rang. He glanced at the caller ID and immediately answered. From the other end, I faintly heard Willow’s intermittent sobs. Damon’s face instantly changed. He comforted her in a tone of tenderness he didn’t even seem to notice himself, then stood up, grabbed his jacket, and cast a glance at me: “I have an urgent matter to attend to.” “Damon.” I spoke quietly. Damon paused, turning back to look at me. “Whatever it is, let’s talk about it when I get back.” I persisted: “Can’t you really finish one meal with me properly?” He frowned, his voice tinged with clear impatience. “Be good, don’t make a scene. We can eat anytime, we’ll have plenty of time later. Right now, I have something important to deal with.” I slowly shook my head, “There’s no time left.” Damon paused, finding my words strange. He was about to press for more. But just then, his phone rang again. It was still Willow. He answered, his voice immediately switching back to tenderness: “I’m coming now, I’ll be there soon.” He hung up, then turned back to me: “What did you just say?” I opened my mouth, but in the end, said nothing, simply waving my hand: “It doesn’t matter anymore. Go quickly, you have an emergency.” Damon felt that something was off, but Willow’s cries were still ringing in his ears. Without another word, he turned and quickly left the restaurant. After Damon left, I didn’t go. I finished the meal alone. After all, I had always wanted to try this newly opened restaurant. Walking out after eating, a car suddenly screeched to a halt in front of me. The door opened, and the person who stepped out was Damon. He had come back. Could it be that he would abandon his beloved to come back and eat with me? **Chapter 3** **Chloe’s pov** Damon approached, his face grim and serious. Without a word, he grabbed my arm. I winced, a sharp hiss escaping my lips, but he didn’t care. He practically shoved me into the car. “What are you doing?” Damon started the engine as he explained: “Willow has been kidnapped.” “She’s been kidnapped? You’re not calling the police, so why are you coming to me?” Damon’s lips were pressed tightly together, a flicker of guilt in his eyes as he looked at me, then he said: “The kidnappers mistook her for my wife. They want to use her to threaten me…” “Oh.” I understood instantly: “So, you want to use me as a swap? Damon, I never thought you’d be this kind of person!” “Chloe, listen to me. I’ll install a tracker on your phone, I’ll be following you the whole time, I won’t let anything happen to you.” Damon continued: “But Willow is different. She was dragged into this because of me. She shouldn’t have to suffer like this.” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing: “And I *should* suffer like this? Damon, is this fair to me?” Damon pulled me into his arms, pressing a kiss on my forehead: “Chloe, be good. Trust me. After this is over, I’ll make it up to you properly…” I didn’t say another word, tears streaming down my face. This was the first time he had touched me so intimately, and it was all for another woman. Damon drove, the lines of his profile looking even colder and harder in the dim light. “Give me your phone.” He suddenly spoke, his tone commanding. I didn’t move, nor did I speak. Damon frowned impatiently. During a red light, he reached into my purse himself and took out my phone. He opened the back cover and inserted a tiny, fingernail-sized metal chip. “This is the latest model of tracker. The signal won’t be blocked.” He explained as he reassembled the phone, “Rocco’s men will check, but this thing is discreet enough. Don’t worry, as soon as we get Willow back, I promise, I’ll rescue you immediately.” This was the man for whom I was once willing to give up the world. Chloe, you are truly laughable. The car finally stopped in front of an abandoned dock. It was deserted here, with only a few colossal, rust-stained warehouses. “Get out.” Damon turned off the engine, his voice devoid of emotion. I unbuckled my seatbelt and pushed the door open. Bone-chilling wind lashed with icy rain, making me shiver uncontrollably. Damon opened a black umbrella, completely shielding me beneath it. How ironic. He was being so considerate to me, but it was all for another woman. We walked towards the innermost warehouse. The old iron door was ajar, a faint, yellowish light leaking through the crack. Damon pushed the door open, and a foul stench of rust and mold assailed us. Inside the warehouse, seven or eight burly thugs stood, led by a bald man with a grotesque scar across his face. And behind them, a frail figure was haphazardly tied to a chair. It was Willow. I clearly saw the calm and restraint in Damon’s eyes instantly shatter. His gaze filled with rage and an undeniable, suffocating ache. “Mr. King, you finally made it.” The scar-faced man exhaled a thick puff of smoke, a leering smirk on his face. “I brought the person.” Damon pushed me forward a step, “Let her go.” His action was so natural. The scar-faced man chuckled, then walked up to me, his rough fingers pinching my chin, “So, this is the real Mrs. King. Quite a beauty.” He turned to Damon, his tone teasing, “Mr. King, is it worth sending such a beautiful wife into the fire for an old flame?” I saw Damon clench his fists, veins bulging on the back of his hand, but he held back. “Cut the crap. Release her!” The scar-faced man nodded, satisfied, and signaled to his men. Two thugs walked over and roughly untied Willow. “Damon!” As soon as Willow was free, she cried out and rushed into Damon’s arms. Damon spread his arms, catching her steadily. “Don’t be scared. I’m here. It’s okay now.” He whispered comforting words, his voice tender in a way I had never heard before. I coldly watched the touching scene of their deep embrace. But inside, my heart felt as if it were being pricked by countless fine needles, a dense, suffocating pain. “You can take her now,” The scar-faced man impatiently cut them off, “But Mrs. King here will be coming with us for a while.” Two thugs walked towards me, grabbing my arms, one on each side. I didn’t resist. Only when I brushed past Damon did I stop and look at him. “Damon,” I looked into his eyes, speaking each word clearly, “From this moment on, we are even.” Damon stiffened, his face instantly changing. And Willow, nestled weakly in his arms, looked at me with a victorious, taunting smirk. I was roughly shoved by the two thugs. Behind me, I heard the footsteps of Damon and Willow gradually fading away. He didn’t even turn to look at me again. The heavy iron door of the warehouse slammed shut with a dull thud. Only darkness remained.

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Eight months into my pregnancy, I had an accidental fall and started bleeding. My husband Ryan refused to help me. He vomited, then pushed me off to someone else. He never came to see me in the hospital. Not after I lost the baby. Not even when I was discharged. My friends tried to console me. “Don’t blame him, Cassie. We all know about his hemophobia. You’re young, you’ll have another baby.” Maybe they were right. I’d known about his condition since our first date. So I didn’t blame him. Then, on the day of my baby’s funeral, a junior assistant from his company pricked her finger. I saw my husband gently took her hand and brought her finger to his lips. And I understood. He could overcome his fear for some people. Just not for me. Not for our baby. I sat in the passenger seat, holding the urn containing my baby’s ashes. All the way there, Ryan kept glancing at me, his face filled with guilt. “Cassie, you know I have hemophobia. I wanted to take you to the hospital that day, but the moment I saw your blood, my body just froze, and I started throwing up…” I didn’t say anything. I just traced the lid of the urn, imagining I was touching my daughter’s tiny head. He wasn’t lying. He’d had this condition his whole life. In college, during a routine physical, they drew just two milliliters of his blood, and he fainted on the spot. And his condition only worsened. By now, the sight of a syringe would make him break out in a cold sweat, and he’d always have to grip my hand tightly. Our friends used to joke about us. “Ryan, you got the best catch among us, buddy. Cassie, you’re going to have to be his protector from now on.” I protected him. But who was going to protect me and our baby? “Where are you going?” On the way to the cemetery, Ryan suddenly turned into a side road. “Oh, I’m just picking up Chloe. She heard about the baby and has been heartbroken, barely sleeping for days. She insisted on coming to the funeral.” “She said it would feel ‘less lonely’ with more people, so I didn’t tell you in advance. You don’t mind, do you?” Less lonely? For the sake of our baby’s funeral, I decided not to argue with him today. Chloe was his assistant, someone who always seemed to stir up trouble around us. At our wedding, she ‘accidentally’ stepped on my wedding gown, making me trip and scrape my knee. One evening, when I was cooking for a holiday dinner, she offered to ‘help’ me in the kitchen. But while I was chopping vegetables, she somehow turned and bumped my elbow, making me cut my finger. And this miscarriage… Ryan literally pushed me off to her, and she drove us down the most congested road, causing me to miss the critical window for treatment. Now, here she was again. After stopping the car, Ryan hurried over to Chloe, taking a package from her hands. Chloe’s face looked incredibly drawn. Ryan asked, concerned, “Look how exhausted you are. Your face is so pale. Haven’t you been resting?” “Ryan, these are clothes and shoes I sewed for the baby. Do you think she’ll like them?” Chloe took out a few delicate little outfits from the package, showing them to Ryan. Suddenly, Ryan gripped her hand, his expression tense. “What happened here? Are you hurt?” Chloe pulled her hand back slightly, lowering her eyes. “It’s nothing. I just pricked my finger this morning while finishing up. Isn’t the funeral starting soon? We should hurry.” “No way! Those sewing needles aren’t sterile, Chloe! If you don’t get that wound treated, it’ll get infected!” Ryan took a deep breath, as if making a monumental decision. Then he took her finger into his mouth and sucked on it forcefully. I heard passersby muttering, “So shameless, displaying affection right on the street!” My heart clenched painfully. So it turned out he could conquer his hemophobia. He just couldn’t overcome it for me and our baby.

I was trembling all over, the memory of begging Ryan to take me to the hospital that day flooding my mind. Back then, his vomiting wasn’t faked. But now, him overcoming his hemophobia for Chloe was just as real. He yanked open the car door and shoved the clothes Chloe had supposedly sewn for the baby into my lap. “Cassie, something unexpected came up. Chloe got hurt making these clothes for the baby. I have to rush her to the hospital now. If it gets infected, it’ll be too late.” Perhaps I’d accumulated so much disappointment in him that at this moment, his words barely registered with me. Chloe, however, shook her head. “No, Ryan, you’re the baby’s father. What kind of message does it send if you don’t attend her funeral?” “I’ll be fine on my own. So what if my finger gets gangrene? I won’t let that stop you from being with your child!” Ryan, flustered, tugged at my arm, nearly making me drop the urn. “Cassie, didn’t you hear Chloe? You’re married, you were almost a mother yourself! How can you be less sensible than a young girl like her? Get out of the car, now!” I stiffly turned my head. “What do you mean? You want me to get out?” Ryan said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, “What else? It’s hard to get a cab at this hour, so of course I’ll drive Chloe to the hospital. What does the exact time of the funeral matter? The baby’s gone. We need to focus on the living.” Before I could even agree, he roughly pulled and dragged me out of the passenger seat. I clutched the urn, afraid to fight back. Before leaving, Chloe gave me an apologetic look. “I’m so sorry, Cassie. I didn’t want this, but Ryan is just so worried about me. Please try to understand.” I wasn’t in the mood to argue with them. I hailed a cab and went to the cemetery. I buried my child like a single mother. It seemed that ever since Chloe appeared, Ryan’s time with me had been extremely limited. If his parents hadn’t pushed him so hard, he wouldn’t have even wanted a child with me. It felt as though the baby was mine alone. After the burial, I leaned against the headstone, unable to leave. Days of exhaustion and overwhelming grief finally made me drift off to sleep. The cemetery manager woke me up. My first thought was to call Ryan. Not to ask him to pick me up, but just to hope he’d come see our child one last time. But it was Chloe who answered. “Hello, Cassie. Ryan is so tired, he fell asleep on my lap. Ugh, he’s so heavy, my leg’s gone numb. If it’s not urgent, don’t wake him up, okay?” I calmly said, “It’s fine. Let him sleep.” I hung up immediately and called my lawyer. “Draw up a divorce agreement for me.” “I don’t want any assets, just a divorce, right now.” Ryan didn’t come home that night, but I didn’t bombard him with calls like I used to. The next day, I brought the divorce agreement to Ryan’s family dinner. To my surprise, Ryan brought Chloe along. His excuse was that Chloe was hurt because of our child, so he had to take care of her. At the dinner table, everyone, subtly and not-so-subtly, was blaming me. Why it took us three years to want a baby, and then, why I didn’t ‘cherish’ it enough once I was pregnant. No one cared about my recovery, and no one questioned why Chloe chose the most congested road that day. I didn’t want to make a scene before leaving, but I wasn’t going to be a doormat either. “Fine. I never wanted this baby in the first place. I intentionally aborted it, happy now?”

I walked away from the table, leaving a stunned silence behind me. Ryan quickly, awkwardly, explained, “Cassie is just grieving too much. She’s upset, and she’s just saying things she doesn’t mean. Don’t take it to heart.” After dinner, he came to find me. “Cassie, what you said earlier was completely out of line. Don’t you know how much Mom and Dad want us to have a child? Look, just focus on recovering, and we can try for another one later.” Before, I was the one begging Ryan for a baby, and I distinctly remembered his sanctimonious excuses for always refusing me. “Forget it. I’m already considered an older mother. For my health, it’s best if we remain DINKs.” His thin lips twitched, as if he had something stuck in his throat. “You can find someone younger to have kids with. Chloe seems suitable. Don’t worry, I don’t mind.” I pulled out the divorce agreement. “Sign it.” He didn’t even look, pushing the agreement aside. “Cassie, what are you even saying? Anyone who heard that would think Chloe and I have some illicit affair. Her SnapChat story yesterday was just a joke, she’s young, sometimes she speaks without thinking.” I repeated, incredulous, “SnapChat story?” “Yeah, this one. Didn’t you see it?” Ryan opened Chloe’s SnapChat. “OMG, you guys! My bossy boss said he’d take care of me, and he ended up sleeping on my lap! Guess I’m not good enough at training him yet…” It was accompanied by a photo of Ryan fast asleep on her lap. The comments flooded in: “Is that Mr. Ryan?? Chloe, are you moving in?” “The vibe is totally different. The boss and his little trophy wife?” “Chloe, is it too late for me to get on your good side?” These were her inner circle from the office. Since we weren’t connected on social media, they didn’t bother to hold back. In the past, I would’ve stormed into the office and ripped them a new one. But now, I felt no such urge. “Oh, I did see it. It’s fine, I know they’re just joking. Just sign this first.” Ryan took the agreement, but before he could even read its contents, Chloe bounded in behind him. She clapped his shoulders, making Ryan jump. “Ryan, what are you doing?” she asked playfully. Ryan played along, pretending to be startled by her, then found the signature line and signed his name with a flourish. I had landed many of the company’s biggest deals; he probably thought this was some new business contract. He handed the divorce agreement back to me, and I finally let out a sigh of relief. “Nothing, just talking to Cassie. She’s still upset with me about your SnapChat story yesterday.” Hearing this, Chloe’s eyes immediately sparkled. She said weakly, “Cassie, Ryan didn’t know when I posted that story. If you’re angry, please take it out on me. Don’t take it out on Ryan and his family. I was just thoughtless, I apologize.” She used pretty much the same line when she hurt my hand, and the time before that when she hurt my knee at the wedding. Ryan gently patted her shoulder. “Cassie is older, she doesn’t appreciate those kinds of jokes. You need to be more careful next time.” Chloe stuck out her tongue playfully. “Okay, next time I’ll just block Cassie.” Ryan roared with laughter at her comment. Seeing their easy camaraderie, I suddenly felt like an outsider. Well, it was true. I had the divorce agreement in hand; it was only a matter of time now.

Ryan suddenly spoke. “This whole situation with the baby has caused you a lot of trouble, too. Driving Cassie to the hospital, and then hurting your finger sewing clothes for the baby.” “Chloe, what gift do you want? I’ll buy it for you.” Chloe bit her thumb, thinking deeply before asking, “Anything?” “Of course. My word is my bond.” Chloe nodded, eyes downcast, and tentatively said, “Actually, I really love Cassie’s wedding dress, but I’m afraid Cassie won’t agree.” I couldn’t help but narrow my eyes. Ryan had bought my wedding dress. We had chosen the style together, and it was handcrafted by eight master artisans over six hundred hours, incredibly exquisite, a true work of art. Ryan had told me then that he wanted me to be the most beautiful bride in the world. But now, he hesitated, looking at me, giving me obvious signals. I knew exactly what he wanted: for me to be understanding, gracious, and to proactively agree to Chloe’s request. But this time, I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. I looked at him with an impassive face. He couldn’t stand it anymore and finally spoke. “Cassie, we only wear a wedding dress once in our lives. It’s just gathering dust at home. Wouldn’t it be more meaningful to give it to someone who loves it? What do you say?” “Besides, as a boss, my word is my bond. You’re my wife, you should uphold my reputation, right? I’ll buy you an even more expensive one later, I promise.” My heart ached. As if my reluctance was solely due to the dress’s monetary value. But then I looked down at the divorce agreement clutched in my hand. He was right. There was nothing left to cling to. “Take it.” I agreed, but Ryan’s expression was subtle. It wasn’t the relief I expected, but surprise. Ryan had been drinking, so I drove us home. He pulled up countless wedding dress photos on his phone, showing them to me and repeatedly emphasizing their value. I barely glanced, casually saying, “Whatever.” He suddenly got upset. “Cassie, I gave you enough face in front of my parents. Why are you still being difficult? Which of these dresses I picked out isn’t more expensive than the one at home?” I countered, “Are you implying I’m throwing a fit just because of the cost?” Ryan then seemed to remember something. After much hesitation, he said, “Let’s go to the cemetery. To see the baby.” “No need. You weren’t there the two times you absolutely should have been. Why the sudden crocodile tears now?” Ryan grabbed my hand, speaking earnestly. “Cassie, please, I’m begging you, take me to see the baby. No matter what, I’m her father. Not attending the funeral yesterday was thoughtless of me.” I had given up on Ryan, but I still had a lingering desire for our baby to see her father. So I changed direction and headed for the cemetery. Halfway there, his phone rang. It was Chloe. I didn’t know what happened on the other end, but Ryan’s expression grew tense. “Chloe, don’t panic. Whatever it is, we’ll handle it together. Please don’t do anything rash. I’m on my way to you right now!” He frantically hung up, about to speak to me, but I cut him off. “Should I drive you to Chloe’s place?” “Yes… Cassie, Chloe has an emergency. I have to go to her immediately. You know how she…” I waved a hand. “It’s fine. Really.” We drove in silence until the car stopped in front of Chloe’s apartment building. “I’ll go see the baby once I’ve sorted this out. If you don’t want the wedding dress, pick out any other gift you want, and I’ll buy it for you!” With that, he hurriedly unbuckled his seatbelt and rushed out of the car. For several days, Ryan didn’t come home. I used that time to move out. When he returned, I would finalize the divorce. I had ordered many baby supplies online, and they had been arriving in bits and pieces over the past few days. Looking at the adorable little clothes, my heart ached again. My daughter could have been the most beautiful little princess in the world, but a cold “termination of pregnancy” had brought her life to an end. I had bought a plot in the most prestigious cemetery in the city, which had a designated area for mourning and remembrance. That day, I brought the baby clothes there. From a distance, I saw a crowd gathered around my daughter’s grave. I rushed over, only to watch in horror as my daughter’s urn was tossed aside by several burly men. “Stop it!” I screamed, but it was too late. The urn shattered on impact, and my daughter’s ashes scattered into the wind. Ryan and Chloe stood right in the middle of the crowd. Chloe cried as she spoke to me, “Cassie, I’m so sorry. I didn’t get a chance to tell you. My mom passed away, and this is the best cemetery plot in the entire city. Ryan and I discussed it, and he agreed to let me have the plot. So I asked some relatives to help me retrieve the baby’s ashes for you.” “But they really didn’t mean to. They didn’t realize the urn was so fragile.” I knelt frantically on the ground, trying to gather my daughter’s ashes, but most had already blown away, and the rest were mixed with the dirt. I lunged at Chloe like a madwoman, but Ryan blocked me. Ryan said, “Cassie, she said she’s sorry, what more do you want from her? Our baby wasn’t even born yet, how can you compare her to Chloe’s mother? Can’t you be a little more understanding?” My vision blurred with rage, my teeth chattered. I had never been so furious in my life. “Listen to me, all of you! If anyone dares to lay a hand on my daughter’s grave again, I’ll kill them! Now get out of here, all of you!” Ryan still wouldn’t let go, so I bit a chunk right out of his arm. That bloody sight finally made everyone retreat.

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I had been married to Ryan Hayes for three years. He’d hated me for five. Every night, in our bed, he moaned my sister’s name. My sister Maya was supposed to be his wife, but she drowned in a lake five years ago. So he married me instead. On the sixth anniversary of Maya’s death, I went to the hospital for a check-up. Ryan dragged me from the hospital to her grave. He forced me to my knees, making me listen to every raw word of his love for her. I cleared my throat. “Ryan, if I bring her back to you, will you finally agree to divorce me?” “How the hell are you going to bring a dead person back to me?” “Remember this, Clara. You killed her. You’re going to spend the rest of your life at my side, paying for what you did.” My words hit a nerve, igniting Ryan’s fury. His handsome brows furrowed, and those soulful eyes, usually so full of deep affection for others, now turned glacial. His long, slender fingers closed around my throat. A slight squeeze, and I gasped for air, my lungs screaming. “Apologize. You shouldn’t make jokes like that at her grave.” Lack of oxygen made agonizing tears stream down my face. My phone slipped from my hand, clattering to the ground. Seeing it, Ryan instinctively loosened his grip. “Just apologize, and I won’t hold it against you anymore.” But then he turned, his eyes landing on the still-lit screen of my phone, and his expression froze. It was a photo. A girl, seven parts like me, provocatively dressed, picking up clients in a sleazy club. He stared for a moment. Then, the veins on the back of his hand pulsed, and his voice dripped with intense disgust. “Clara, how could you be so vicious? Setting up a photo like this for a dead person?” “Or are you saying you found some club girl to get surgery to look like Maya, and now you think you can live the rest of your life guilt-free?” I saw his face and knew there was no point. Nothing I said would matter. It was easier to just give up. So I did. I offering apologies to a tombstone that only held Maya’s clothes. “I’m sorry.” “I’m sorry.” “I’m sorry…” I repeated it until my throat was parched, and my vision blurred. Only then did Ryan pull back his hand. I couldn’t control it. Violent coughs ripped through me, each one threatening to tear my insides out. Seeing the deep red marks on my neck, a flicker of self-reproach crossed Ryan’s eyes. He seemed to want to help me up, but then he saw Maya’s tombstone and froze. “Stop trying to look pitiful. This is what you deserve.” I didn’t say anything else, dragging my heavy body along, trailing behind him. Back in the car, the silence was terrifying. Usually, I was the one to break the ice. But this time, I was truly exhausted. Leaning my head back against the seat, I slowly closed my eyes, only to hear Ryan’s voice. “Weren’t you going to the hospital? I’ll take you now.” The nurse’s urgent warnings echoed in my head. “Miss Clara, specialist appointments are hard to get. You must arrive early that day!” “If you miss this one, you’ll have to wait three more months! Your condition can’t wait any longer.” The appointment time had passed three hours ago. The specialist was long gone. So, even though I had so much I wanted to scream out, In the end, it all dissolved into a faint sigh. “It’s alright. No need.” This was the tenth time I’d asked for a divorce. He hated me so much, yet he refused to let me go. Struggling to sit up, I sent a message back to the private investigator who’d sent me the photo. “Bring Maya back.”

Maya was my sister. Our mom and Ryan’s mom were best friends. The three of them grew up together, practically childhood sweethearts. She was lively and outgoing from a young age. Not only did Mrs. Hayes adore her, but Ryan also got along with her better. They got engaged after they became adults. I loved Ryan too. But I blessed them, burying my secret crush deep in my heart. I never expected the Hayes family to suddenly go bankrupt, and Ryan’s father to pass away. Their wedding was postponed for a year. My secret diary, filled with my feelings, was found by Maya. Her eyes red-rimmed, she confronted me. “Clara, if you loved Ryan, why didn’t you say anything? How can I marry him knowing this?” Maya ran out, drinking herself into a stupor all night. On her way home, her car plunged into the lake. Only a female corpse, so waterlogged her face was unrecognizable, was found at the scene. A red string bracelet on her wrist confirmed her identity. Before Maya’s supposed death, she had texted Ryan: “Clara loves you too. I don’t want to fight her for you. Let’s meet again in the next life!” Ryan, already grieving his father, then lost the woman he loved. He hated me, and he married me. He made me pay for my supposed sins, day and night. But Maya had faked her death. Now she was alive and well, picking up clients in a shady part of town. The private investigator found that Maya had run off with a fake rich kid. She probably looked down on Ryan, now bankrupt, so she faked her death to escape. I glanced up at the man in the driver’s seat. Ryan, I’m done. I don’t need to ‘atone’ for anything. My check-up report arrived by mail the next day. My hands trembled as I pulled out the results. But seeing them, I felt a strange sense of relief. Sitting at my dressing table, I cut off my waist-length hair with scissors. I’d grown it for five years. I didn’t feel a hint of regret. Anyway, it would all fall out with chemotherapy. Suddenly, Ryan’s face appeared in the mirror. He stood behind me, raising an eyebrow slightly. “What’s this? You were so cold to me yesterday, and now you’re cutting your hair short to try and win me over?” “Don’t even think about trying to be like Maya. Even if you cut your hair short, that wicked personality of yours won’t change one bit!” No histrionics like before. This time, I spoke calmly. “Just wanted to donate my hair to sick children.” He, as usual, scoffed. “If you were truly that kind, Maya wouldn’t have been killed by you!” I didn’t reply. He glared, then tossed a pale blue scarf at me. “Cover up.” I caught the scarf. Skillfully, I tied it around my neck, hiding the red marks he’d left yesterday. To outsiders, we were a loving couple, supporting each other through hard times. When Ryan went bankrupt, I never abandoned him, always staying by his side. For him, I worked late, tirelessly attending social events. And he didn’t disappoint me, building his company into a major corporation in the state. He always brought me to important events. Today was a networking event. He still had to keep up appearances with me. “Not arguing this time?” Ryan stared at me, his eyes full of confusion.

Maya loved blue. I hated it . She was our mother’s favorite. Whenever Maya got into trouble, I was the one who got blamed. My mother would grab my hair, repeatedly forcing my head into a blue basin full of water. Ryan knew all of it. But he loved giving me blue dresses, jewelry, and bags the most. Then he’d watch me fight him hysterically, only to cry and beg for his forgiveness. For the past few years, I’d burned myself out trying to show him I married him because I loved him. Not because I wanted to replace Maya. So whenever he humiliated me this way, my reactions were always extreme. Now, I just glanced down at the scarf. “Thanks. It’s nice.” I humored him, but his brows furrowed in annoyance. He looked like he wanted to say more. The phone rang at that moment. I stepped outside to answer it. “We told Maya we found a big client for her, and she immediately agreed to come back. But to ‘package’ herself, she also asked us for money for a hymen repair surgery.” I gave a muffled “hmm” and transferred the money. “Thank you for your trouble.” On the way to the venue, neither of us spoke a word. After we entered hand-in-hand, he didn’t spare me another glance. He immediately turned to network. Someone pulled me aside. It was Mrs. Peterson, the wife of a business partner. “Clara, let the men talk business. Let’s step aside for some tea and a chat.” Seeing me, these wives’ eyes lit up. After all, the Hayes family’s current status made them worth paying attention to. “Clara, don’t mind me saying this, but Ryan is so successful and handsome. So many eyes are on him! You really should have a child soon to solidify your position!” They earnestly advised me in my ear, but my head was buzzing, unable to take it in. A child? It was impossible for us to have children. At first, I thought my companionship could make him forget Maya. The two of us, with our child, living happily ever after. I’ll never forget that day. Excitedly holding a pregnancy test, I tried to show it to him. But all I got was his cold response. “Get rid of it. You don’t deserve to carry my child.” I had three abortions for him. Uterine perforation, massive hemorrhage. Scalding tears fell onto the cold operating table. When the abortion consent form appeared before him, Ryan finally showed the expression I’d imagined. He simply nodded, satisfied. The metallic taste of blood rose in my throat again. I forced a smile. “Well, they better hurry up, because Ryan and I are getting a divorce soon.” Besides, his true love, Maya, was coming back.

The wives just thought I was joking. “But your fourth anniversary is coming up, isn’t it? You really need to hold onto Ryan, especially with your contributions to his company going public!” “Though Clara, you’re young, but you should still take care of yourself. Why are you so pale?” I didn’t answer, just smiled faintly, swallowing the blood back down. Ryan took the stage as an outstanding entrepreneur. I no longer looked up at him constantly, like I used to. Instead, I looked down at my phone. I’d already chosen a hospital for myself abroad. Mrs. Peterson was right. For our fourth anniversary, I was going to give Ryan a perfect gift. It would be an end to our messed-up relationship. I felt a cold stare. I looked up. Only to find Ryan frowning at me. After he came down, his tone was very unpleasant. “Clara, playing hard to get won’t work on me. Stop with the gloomy act!” Playing hard to get? Was he upset because I hadn’t been watching him? “But don’t you always say my gaze makes you sick?” For some reason, that sentence angered Ryan even more. He drove off alone, leaving me stranded. This was my normal. The only wish I ever made was at a fountain, hoping he’d love me just a little more. But even then, Ryan called me a murderer, said I didn’t deserve happiness. He left me alone. I was cornered by a few drunk men who started harassing me. My phone was crushed underfoot, and my calf broke when I tripped on a step. It ended up at the police station. He didn’t come to pick me up. Instead, he flew back home alone. Taking a taxi home, I started packing my things. There wasn’t much, really. Ryan had made it clear this wasn’t my home. And I couldn’t keep too many personal items here. Our fourth anniversary was three days away. I told them to bring Maya back in three days. I also called Ryan. “In three days, you…” He cut me off coldly. “Clara, do you have no shame?” Then he smirked maliciously. “I actually did prepare an anniversary gift for you.” “I’m replacing the wedding photo in the living room with one of Maya and me.” “You can stare at her every day and repent!” He hung up before I could reply. I looked up at the wedding photo in the living room. It was our wedding, but only I was smiling. The boy from my memories, who used to comfort me carefully after my mom punished me, was long gone. Over these three days, I purged every trace of myself from the house. And Ryan’s custom-ordered photo was already hanging in the living room. The worker who delivered the photo glanced at me. “Mr. Hayes specifically asked for the lady of the house to sign for it.” “The lady in the picture has a mole on her nose; please call her out!” My numb heart still ached a little at that moment. Later, the pain intensified as my illness flared up, my whole body throbbing. Seeing my condition, the worker scurried away, muttering. “Do stand-ins have no shame? Actually moving right in!” On our anniversary, Ryan returned. Seeing my continued silence, he sneered. “When did you become so generous?” “Let’s see how long you can keep up this act!” Ignoring his sarcasm, I simply clapped my hands. “Ryan, I’m not happy with your gift. What I really want is the divorce papers.” I placed the agreement in front of him. “Impossible…” His words hadn’t even finished when Maya was led before him.

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For three long years, from the day we said ‘I do’ to the day we called it quits, my husband, the celebrated painter Julian, never once picked up a brush to paint *me*. Then, Julian and I got back together. I stopped pestering him to let me into his studio. I stopped caring what time he came home. Even when Chloe showed up at our place to model, I helped him find the perfect excuse: “I get it, Julian. It’s art.” Julian froze. He grabbed my wrist, his gaze piercing through my face, searching for something. 0 Julian’s face was grim. He explained impatiently: “She’s just here to model.” “Only with her can I find inspiration. Her clothes got wet, so I gave her a clean shirt.” As he spoke, he pulled Chloe behind him, his eyes filled with irritation and defensiveness. “What we have is a purely artistic relationship, nothing dirty like you’re imagining.” I glanced at Chloe, cowering behind him. The girl wore Julian’s shirt; its hem barely grazed her thighs, exposing long, slender legs. Seeing my silence, Chloe’s eyes welled up with tears. “Hazel, please don’t fight with Julian because of me.” “Maybe… I shouldn’t come next time.” I cut her off, my voice calm. “I understand completely. It’s art, after all. I’m not angry.” Julian’s expression froze. He stared blankly for a long moment, then fixed his gaze on my face. As if trying to drill a hole right through me. “Then why are you dragging a suitcase the moment you walk in?” “You always used to threaten to leave home when we fought. How long will you disappear this time?” Huh? I looked up, confused. Julian’s eyes were slightly red, and there was a hint of a choked sob in his voice, completely catching me off guard. Right. He’d vanish into his studio with Chloe for days, sometimes even nights. Fearing I’d disturb his artistic flow, I hadn’t told him about my business trip. So Julian hadn’t even noticed I’d been gone for a whole week. I pushed my suitcase inside, explaining calmly: “I’m dragging my suitcase because I just got back from a business trip.” Julian’s tightly furrowed brow finally relaxed. I glanced at the bedroom. It was practically bursting with Chloe’s stuff. “She finds it inconvenient to travel back and forth, so I let her stay here temporarily.” Julian touched his nose, a bit awkwardly. I nodded, wheeling my luggage into the guest room. “Oh, and I’m working late tonight. I won’t be back.” I consciously created a quiet environment for them. With that, I grabbed my bag and headed for the door. Julian suddenly grabbed my hand. “You always wanted me to paint your portrait. I’ll do it once the exhibition is over.” “It’ll be your birthday gift.” His confident tone held a hint of arrogant condescension. Julian was so sure I’d love it. After all, for those three years we were married, I was constantly begging him to paint my portrait. But he always refused, saying: “I only paint landscapes, not portraits.” Until later, when I accidentally stumbled into his studio and saw beautiful, framed paintings—all of the same person. His former lover, Chloe. Young and foolish back then, I deliberately challenged him. I made him choose between breaking up with me or getting rid of the paintings. Clearly, I lost that gamble. Julian didn’t hesitate for a second, choosing the latter. He was so calm, so cruelly calm. Cruelly telling me that I was just a stranger in his life. And that relationship ended with me sobbing and demanding a divorce. After we separated, I was heartbroken for half a year, barely able to function. But now, mentioning it brought only indifference and calm. Time truly is a strange thing. “You should get back to your work. Chloe is waiting.” I gently pulled my hand from his grip, my voice as flat as if I were commenting on the weather. Julian finally let go. 0

To finish the project, I worked non-stop for a solid week. Late one night, Julian’s message popped up. “I have something more important tonight. I’ll make up for your birthday later, promise.” I wasn’t surprised at all. Last year, for my birthday, one call from Chloe and he dumped me to fly halfway across the world to watch the sunrise with her. The year before, he was hosting an exhibition overseas, with Chloe as his star model. What was I doing back then? I cooked a feast, a whole table overflowing with dishes, waiting from dawn till dusk, then from dusk till dawn again. It wasn’t until I saw the two of them, looking perfectly matched, splashed across the news headlines that I realized my husband, whom I’d been with for years, actually *could* paint portraits. His brush, however, moved only for Chloe. Chloe was his sole muse. Back then, blinded by jealousy and a crushing sense of betrayal, I barraged him with calls. Finally, he picked up. On my end of the line, furious accusations. On his end, a tired, dismissive tone. “Hazel, you’re not a child. Can you stop being so childish?” But I refused to give up. Still foolishly determined to demand an answer. “Julian, tell me, who’s more important—me or Chloe?” There was a long silence on the other end, so long I thought he wouldn’t answer. Then I heard his airy reply: “Stop this nonsense.” “Fine! Then I’ll burn those paintings!” Julian, usually so composed, lost it. His voice flared with anger and panic. “Hazel, you wouldn’t dare?!” “Oh, I would!” After throwing out the threat, I hung up, trembling. But when I stormed into his studio, hammer in hand, I stopped dead in front of the portraits. His brushstrokes… they truly held warmth. Chloe, as painted by him, was truly beautiful; even sitting quietly, she exuded youth, vibrancy, and playfulness. Every single stroke vibrated with love. That night. I sat in his studio, sleepless, all night long. And cried the entire night. I cried until my tears ran dry, and with them, the last vestiges of love in my heart withered. 0

This time, getting back together. Julian had already told me he wasn’t someone who could be tied down by emotions. He was a painter, he needed to create, and he had no time to respond to my petty emotions. I just smiled, nodding, pretending I understood perfectly. After all, I was busy now too; I had an important meeting tomorrow. I needed proper rest. Passing a dessert shop, I bought myself a small strawberry cake. I headed back to the apartment I’d owned before Julian and I ever tied the knot. As the cake melted in my mouth, I remembered Julian *had* celebrated my birthday with me once. But it was laughable, really; the only birthday he ever spent with me, it landed me in the hospital. He came home very late that day, carrying a cake. I was as happy as a child, not even looking closely at the packaging. Even seeing it already sliced didn’t dampen my joy. It wasn’t until I took a bite that I realized it was pineapple. I’m allergic to pineapple. But afraid of ruining his mood, I forced myself to swallow it. By midnight, I was covered in hives, struggling to breathe. Hooked up to an IV drip in the hospital, Julian sat by my bed and apologized: “Sorry, I must have misremembered.” Back then, I didn’t probe what ‘misremembered’ actually meant. Later, I found out. The cake he’d brought back that night? It was Chloe’s leftovers. He hadn’t even remembered my birthday; he’d just seen my excitement and, too lazy to deal with it, hadn’t bothered to deny anything. Pineapple cake… that was always Chloe’s favorite, never mine. Blowing out the candles, I silently made a wish. Before, every single wish was about him. I hoped he’d spend a little more time with me. I hoped he’d paint a portrait of me. I hoped he’d love me just a little. But this time, my wish was only for myself. I hoped I could work hard, live well, and never again be sad over someone who wasn’t worth it. After making my wish, I took a hot shower and went to bed.

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My sister-in-law, Chloe, insisted on marrying a cafeteria chef. In my last life, working in law enforcement, I immediately recognized the man’s family as fraudsters, deeply in debt for millions. I tried to stop the marriage. Chloe’s boyfriend, drunk and distraught, died in a car crash. Chloe uploaded the recording of me convincing her to break up with him, claiming I was responsible for his death. The entire internet trashed me. My husband and his family ghosted me. I couldn’t take it anymore and jumped. After my death, the online mob targeted my parents, leading to their death. My husband then dumped my family’s ashes in the trash, hugging Chloe and saying, “It’s all that bitch’s fault. Her whole family deserved to die for you.” When I opened my eyes again, I had been reborn to the day she brought that man home. I sneered, watching a bashful Chloe. This life—I wouldn’t interfere. I just wanted to see: without me, who would pay the price for her “happiness”? “Hey, what do you think of my boyfriend?” Chloe’s bashful voice pulled me back from my thoughts. It was at this exact moment in my last life that I’d told Martha and Kevin the man’s true financial situation. They kicked him out of the house right away, forcing Chloe to dump him. That year, Chloe fell in love with an old college flame and married him, eventually living a comfortable and happy life. That man had originally just wanted to trick Chloe into marrying him, so my in-laws would foot the bill for his family’s millions in debt. When the marriage didn’t work out, he drank himself into oblivion every day. He eventually caused an accident while drunk driving and died on the spot. Chloe, upon hearing the news, completely lost it. She blamed me for everything, uploading the recording of me convincing her to break up with him. I was cyberbullied, and it caused massive trouble for my department. Finally, unable to bear the pressure, I jumped from the rooftop. My parents, dragged into the mess because of me, were burned alive in their home. Chloe and Kevin’s family just stood by, watching my parents burn to death. In the end, they scattered our family’s ashes in the trash. Watching the ashes swirl in the air, Kevin comforted Chloe, “Chloe, their whole family deserved to die! That guy was driving a luxury sports car when he died, worth millions. Way richer than your husband now. That bitch ruined such a perfect match, and her family should’ve paid with their lives for your happiness!” If only they’d bothered to check the news, they would have known. That car was rented by Blake from a dealership, all to ensnare his next victim. The icy chill of those memories made me shiver. Perhaps Kevin noticed my pale face, because he grabbed my wrist. “Riley, don’t you dare start messing things up again, just because you can’t stand Chloe being happy! I just saw, that guy drove up in a Ferrari! I know that car, it’s expensive!” Chloe quickly chimed in, “Maybe being a chef is just his hobby, and he’s actually a trust fund kid! I’ve even wondered that myself, he’s a chef, but his cooking isn’t that great. It’s like those TV shows where rich guys pretend to experience life.” A flicker of calculation appeared in Martha’s eyes, but she still seemed uneasy. She pulled my hand and whispered, “Riley, why don’t you help Chloe check him out in your department’s system? Find out what his parents do. Then we can really relax…” Martha’s words were cut off sharply by Kevin. “Mom! Why are you being as paranoid as Riley?! She’s always messing things up anyway, why would you ask her to check anything? What does she even know, honestly…” “You’re right, Martha. I wouldn’t know anything about that.” I quickly interrupted Kevin. “Martha, Chloe’s boyfriend is fine. Didn’t Kevin say he rolled up in a multimillion-dollar car? Can’t be too bad then.” I watched Chloe snuggle deeper into Blake’s arms, a cold, hard smile playing on my lips. This life, I wanted to see, who would actually pay for Chloe’s “happiness” this time…

Probably worried that the rich guy she’d finally reeled in would run off, first thing the next morning, Kevin announced Chloe was marrying Blake. “Riley, you’re my wife, you have to come later…” Reborn, I had too many things to deal with. I had no time for them. “I can’t make it. I have a mission today. You wish Chloe all the best for me.” Kevin sighed, a look of resignation on his face, as if used to my uselessness. “I can’t rely on you for anything. But, since you didn’t try to ruin Chloe’s wedding yesterday, I’ll let it slide this time.” The moment Kevin walked out the door, I immediately called my parents, urging them not to contact Martha’s family or Kevin for a while. Then I rushed back to the office to check the latest warrants. What I found scared me senseless. I had thought only Blake’s parents were involved in overseas fraud. But it turned out Blake not only owed a ton of money but was also a repeat domestic abuser. He’d beaten two wives until they ran off, and one ex-wife was still listed as missing. Looking at his address, deep in the mountains, in a place barely accessible by road, a cold sweat broke out on my back. If Chloe married him, it wouldn’t just be about being scammed. She might even lose her life. Chloe’s innocent childhood smile, contrasting with the twisted grin she wore as my parents burned alive in my past life, flashed relentlessly in my mind. Just as I wrestled with this, my phone buzzed urgently, cutting off my thoughts. Seeing it was Chloe’s call, I quickly answered. I was about to speak, but her sobs cut me off. “Bitch! What did you do?! Blake and I came to get married, and they said his parents were criminals! They dragged him in for questioning for ages! What’s going on?!” “Tell me, are you trying to ruin my happiness?!” “Riley! I just praised you this morning, and now you’re screwing things up for me, aren’t you?! Can we even live like this?!” Her accusing, resentful voice instantly cleared my head. I quickly glanced at today’s duty roster. The officer dispatched there was Sarah, the kindest one. I checked the time; they’d probably gotten all the answers by now. Blake probably wouldn’t spill anything. And if I waited any longer, Sarah might tell Chloe’s family the truth about Blake. Thinking of the tragic outcome when I got involved last time, I quickly spoke. “I have no idea. I’ll get my colleague to come back immediately.” I hung up and immediately called Sarah. “Sarah, can’t you pick a better time to question someone? They’re getting married! What kind of interrogation is this? Get back here, now!” Sarah sounded confused but complied. “Got it, Captain Riley. I’m heading back now.” Fifteen minutes later, I saw Chloe’s social media post. The accompanying picture showed their hands clasped together. Kevin and Martha had also posted. The photos showed a huge box of cash and another huge box of gold. I roughly estimated the total value. It must have been over a million! It seemed Blake had really gone all out to reel in Martha’s entire family. Looking at Kevin, beaming in the photos, a faint smile touched my lips. It looked like the last big task wouldn’t be too complicated after my rebirth. If things went smoothly, it could be over soon.

That night, I went to my parents’ place for a lavish dinner. As I was leaving, Mom squeezed my hand, a flicker of worry in her eyes. “Riley, are you fighting with Kevin? If something’s wrong, tell your father and me. Don’t let yourself be mistreated, okay?” The horrifying image of them burning alive in my previous life flashed in my mind. I fought back tears and patted Mom’s hand. “Don’t worry, everything’s fine. But you have to listen to me!” My parents didn’t say anything more, but the worry in their eyes hadn’t completely vanished. Their expressions made me decide not to wait. I needed to handle things quickly. After reporting to my department, I grabbed a few drinks at a pub. I didn’t get home until late. The moment I walked in, Kevin was sitting on the sofa, scowling. Seeing me, he immediately flung a slipper at me. “Riley! There’s no wife in the world like you! Not only did you get wasted, but why didn’t you make me dinner?!” I deliberately didn’t dodge the slipper. Kevin had put a lot of force into it; my cheek immediately flared with a bruise. I picked up the slipper and slapped Kevin across the face with it. “Are you crippled or just don’t have hands?! If you’re hungry, make your own damn food!” The slap wasn’t that painful, but it was enough to send Kevin into a rage. He looked at me in disbelief, then quickly stood up, his hand shot out, grasping my throat, pinning me to the sofa. “Riley! You dared to hit me?!” “Let me tell you, Chloe’s husband is a trust fund kid! He called me ‘brother’ today and gave me a car! If you treat me right, you could live the good life. But if you keep acting like this, we can’t do this anymore!” “With a relative like Blake, what kind of woman couldn’t I find?!” A sneer touched my lips as I looked at Kevin. “That guy is scamming all of you! You’re all just a family of idiots!” “Kevin, go ahead and try! See what woman would marry a worthless loser like you! You can’t make a buck, you can’t lift a finger around the house, and all you’re good for is hitting women!” Rage exploded in Kevin’s eyes. His hand lashed out, slapping me across the face. Then he grabbed the nearby trash can and slammed it against me. “Bitch! How dare you call my family idiots?! I’m divorcing you!” “Divorce?! Kevin, do you dare?! You’re all talk!” Kevin was frothing like a mad dog. “Riley, I’m completely sick of you. Divorce! Right now!” “Fine, whoever backs out is a chicken!” Five hours later, Kevin and I walked out of the Divorce Court. I looked at the divorce decree in my hand, then turned away, a triumphant smile spreading across my face. The last big task after my rebirth was done; I finally felt at ease. That family’s millions in debt, and the ticking time bomb Chloe brought home, had absolutely nothing to do with me anymore!

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