Author: Momo Chan

My tendons were cut, my eyes gouged out, and I was tortured to death. Yet when my father spoke of me, he still cursed. “I never had such a son! It’s better he died out there!” He’d beat me mercilessly with his belt and throw away the health tonics I bought him. In front of the neighbors, he’d slap me hard across the face, roaring at me to get lost. But when my body was brought to him, dressed in a police uniform and adorned with medals carried by my fellow officers, this veteran broke down, wailing uncontrollably. “Son… God, I’m so sorry!” ***** I was dead. My tendons severed, my eyes blinded, my body beaten beyond recognition. The final blow struck my chest, ending my life for good. By the end, staying alive had become the real hell. Every second, I silently begged those two psychos to just finish me off. When the last blade pierced my heart, I barely felt a thing. Hours of agony had numbed me to the pain. Darkness enveloped me, but my soul felt brighter than ever. I knew my message had reached my team. They’d be here soon. This massive drug operation would finally be shut down for good. Ten long years undercover, and my mission was complete at last. Slowly, the cold grip of blood loss faded away. Suddenly, I felt myself drift upward, my spirit separating from my body. Below, I saw my own battered corpse and the two heartless bastards standing over it. One of them kicked my lifeless body. Realizing I was truly dead, he spat viciously. “Fucking finally. Tough son of a bitch lasted way longer than I thought. My arms are killing me from all that pounding. Come on, give me a hand. Let’s dump this poor schmuck in that junkyard over the hill!” I watched helplessly as they hauled my body away, tossing it into the desolate scrapyard like yesterday’s trash. Then, as if pulled by an invisible force, my spirit drifted across half the city, back to the old neighborhood I once called home. There, hunched and frail, a familiar figure shuffled slowly down the sidewalk. My eyes stung with ghostly tears as I choked out, “Dad…” James Henderson, my father, walked on, deaf to my words. Our neighbor, Larry, spotted him and called out with a smile, “Hey James, where’s that boy of yours? Haven’t seen him around in ages.” Dad’s friendly expression darkened instantly. He exploded, “I haven’t had a son for ten years! Even if I did, he’s probably dead in a ditch somewhere by now!” “How could anyone have such a good-for-nothing child? The day that plague dies will be the day the Henderson name is finally clean!” My chest tightened, the knife wound burning like it was freshly poisoned. I’d barely set foot in my hometown for the past ten years, but every time I did, I heard the same hateful words. Two Christmases ago, I headed home with bags of groceries, hoping to spend the holiday with my father. As soon as I opened the door, he slapped me hard across the face. “Get out! I don’t want anything from you!” I forced a smile, trying to placate him. “Dad… please, just let me stay for dinner. I’ll leave right after.” To my shock, he grabbed the trash bag by the door and dumped its contents over my head, right in front of the neighbors. “Don’t you dare call me Dad!” he bellowed. “No son of mine would turn out to be such a monster! You’re better off dead in a ditch somewhere, and don’t ever show your face around here again!” I stood there, reeking garbage and leftover food covering me from head to toe, as the neighbors muttered and whispered around us. “Man, James sure is cold-hearted,” someone muttered. “What do you know?” another voice snapped. “His son is nothing but trouble – drugs, stealing, messing around. He got what he deserved!” My face burned with shame. On Christmas, I sat alone on the freezing street, covered in garbage, for the entire night. It snowed that night, but my heart was colder than the ice. The mocking laughter in front of me broke through my thoughts. I knew the neighbors were doing it on purpose. Everyone in the neighborhood knew that James’ son had been kicked out of the police academy for drug use, and his bright future had gone up in smoke. And James, who had once bragged about me to anyone who would listen when I got into the academy, had become the laughingstock of the entire community. Years ago, when Larry was young, he’d harassed some women. My dad, a military veteran, had taught him a lesson with his fists. Their relationship had been icy ever since, and Larry knew just how to get under my dad’s skin. When Larry heard my dad’s words, he smirked. “Come on, James. That’s a bit harsh, don’t you think? Like it or not, he’s still your flesh and blood. Your son.” My father’s face turned livid, his jaw clenched tight. “I have no such son,” he spat out. “That piece of garbage… Why doesn’t God do us all a favor and strike him down with lightning?” With that, my father stormed off. I hovered near the old man, watching as the corners of his mouth trembled almost imperceptibly. Slowly, his eyes welled up with tears. The pain in my heart was sharper than any knife. As tears started to roll down my own cheeks, I finally whispered the words I’d been choking back for what felt like an eternity, “Dad… I’m sorry.”

Dad stumbled through the front door, collapsing onto the couch with a wheezy exhale. He sat there, staring into space, for what felt like hours. Finally, he struggled to his feet and shuffled to the bookshelf. Bending down, he pulled out a small booklet from the bottom shelf. It took me a moment to realize it was my old police academy acceptance letter. With trembling hands, Dad opened it. His weathered fingers traced the words as he read aloud in a soft, shaky voice. “David… accepted to our academy… as a police officer trainee.” A lump formed in my throat. Grief washed over me like a tidal wave, leaving me breathless. Memories from that day came flooding back. I remembered racing home, waving that letter like a victory flag. “Dad!” I had shouted. “Dad! I got in!” Back then, my father was still young. He rushed out of the stairwell to greet me, grinning from ear to ear. His large hands cradled my acceptance letter, reading it over and over. “Well done, son! You’re my pride. I couldn’t be more proud of you!” That day, his laughter echoed throughout the entire neighborhood. The neighbors all said, “Like father, like son. James’ boy is truly something special, becoming a police officer!” But no one could have predicted that I’d be expelled for drug use during my second semester of freshman year. The day I came home with my bags packed, I fell to my knees. My father, eyes red with anger and disappointment, beat me until his belt broke. From that day on, he could never again hold his head high among the neighbors. His once-proud posture, straight for decades, crumpled because of me. My dad, always chatty and social, stopped playing chess and shooting the breeze with neighbors. He was afraid they’d bring me up, afraid to hear their pity or opinions about me, even if well-meaning. This cheerful old man, who’d been outgoing his whole life, started spending his days cooped up at home, cutting off contact with everyone. This went on for ten long years. Meanwhile, I was spiraling out of control, hanging with a rough crowd, and sinking deeper into a world of trouble. At first, Dad tried scolding and hitting me. But eventually, he realized nothing could keep me in line. That was when the light went out in his eyes. He stopped reaching out to me. He wouldn’t even open the door when I came home. Father and son had become enemies, and our relationship was severed completely. When I saw that acceptance letter, I could hardly believe it. I never imagined he’d kept it all this time. A wave of bitterness, hidden in my heart for a decade, washed over me. I could almost see him, night after night, holding that letter and weeping. The image hit me like a bullet between the eyes, nearly killing me all over again.

Feona Henderson, my sister, walked in just as Dad was wiping away his tears. She’d known the truth for years but pretended not to notice. “Dad, what would you like for dinner? I’ll cook.” He just shook his head, silent. Feona walked into the kitchen and opened the fridge. Her face fell as she saw it packed with groceries. “Dad, has David been here?” My dad’s expression darkened, his voice turning cold. “He showed up three days ago. Bought a bunch of stuff we didn’t ask for. Who needs his charity? Eating his food would probably take years off my life!” Feona sighed, “David hardly ever comes around these days. And when he does, you either take a swing at him or bite his head off. Why do you two keep doing this to each other?” It was true. In the ten years since I’d dropped out of the police academy, I could count my visits home on one hand. But three days ago, for reasons I’d rather not explain, I made what I knew would be my last trip home. I’d loaded up on groceries, more than I could carry, and crammed them all into the fridge. James glared at me with undisguised contempt. “Take your stuff and get out! Everything you touch is poison. It could kill me if I eat it!” His words were harsh, but I pretended not to hear. I quietly prepared a table full of dishes, then sheepishly said, “Dad, it’s been ten years since we had a drink together. Let me keep you company for a few rounds.” Surprisingly, James didn’t chase me out with a broom that day. Instead, he sat down at the table, his face grim. I raised my glass and spoke softly. “Dad, it’s been ten years. I know I’ve disappointed you and brought shame to you. “I don’t expect you to believe me, but I had my reasons. I didn’t have a choice.” James slammed his cup down on the table with a loud crack, breaking the cup. “Didn’t have a choice? I might be old, but I’m not blind! What kind of circumstances would make you quit being a cop to do drugs? What circumstances would keep you away from home for ten years? What circumstances would turn my son into a social outcast?” My forehead throbbed with shame, but I couldn’t utter a word in my defense. Several times, I tried to speak, but each time, I swallowed my words. My father’s thin, weathered hand slammed against the table as he fired off his questions, each word dripping with anguish. “Answer me! What did I always tell you when you were a kid? What should a Henderson do?” I kept my head down, fighting back tears. “We may not change the world, but we must do the right things.” As soon as the words left my mouth, my father lost control. His hand flew across my face in a stinging slap. “And what have you done? Tell me, can you live with yourself?” he growled. My ears rang as ten years of pent-up emotions exploded in an instant. I leaped to my feet, shouting uncontrollably, “I don’t regret a damn thing I did, you hear me?!” My father froze, staring at me in despair as if I were a stranger he couldn’t comprehend. After a moment of stunned silence, he finally accepted that the person before him was no longer the son he had cherished since childhood. His hands trembled at his sides, clenching into fists before he shook his head weakly. “Get out,” he said, his voice cold. “You are not my son. From now on, my son is dead to me. Get out of my sight. I never want to see you again!” And so, my final meeting with my father ended in bitter discord. I bolted from the house in a daze, somehow ending up at the old park where Dad used to push me on the swings. With trembling fingers, I pulled out my phone and dialed that number. “Captain,” I choked out, barely holding it together. “Please. I’m begging you. Let this be my final mission. I can’t… I can’t do this anymore.” My voice cracked as I whispered, “I just want to go home.”

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In the aftermath of my son’s birth, my breasts frequently swelled during the breastfeeding phase, intensifying my sexual desires. My husband was engrossed in work and couldn’t fulfill my needs, leading to escalating conflicts between us. In a bid to soothe his wounded pride, he accused me of postpartum syndrome, proposing a specialized therapy abroad to ease my symptoms. Upon our arrival, my husband escorted me to an exclusive physiotherapy clinic. To my surprise, my therapist was a strikingly handsome foreign man. In a moment of heightened emotion, he leaned close. His smile disarmed as he whispered, “Would you like to experience double happiness, madam?” He then proceeded to help me remove my disposable massage pants just as another handsome physiotherapist entered the room… I was a 26-year-old nursing mother. My name was Judy Johnson. After my maternity leave, I resumed my duties at the company, diligently expressing breast milk each day to store in the refrigerator, relying on my husband’s mother, Lily Johnson, to feed it to my son at the right times. Despite my efforts, my breasts would still swell painfully while at the office, forcing me to discreetly relieve the pressure in the bathroom. This predicament drew lewd stares from the single male colleagues, and their gazes made me profoundly uncomfortable. One day, after completing a report and delivering it to my supervisor, William Davis, for review and signature, he called me back. “Judy, your blouse has seen better days. Why don’t you head to the bathroom and freshen up?” With a gentle smile, William pointed to his chest to indicate a stain on my shirt. His kind reminder sent a flush of embarrassment through me. I hastily thanked him and retreated to the bathroom to clean up. Despite his unmarried status, William cut a striking figure, and his charm was not diminished by the fact that he had yet to reach his fortieth year. Yet, he possessed the unmistakable essence of manhood. Even his gentlest caution sent waves of embarrassment washing over me. Upon reaching the bathroom, I hastily grabbed a handful of tissues. With trembling hands, I wiped away the remnants of my disarray. Slipping into the fresh outfit I had brought along, I transformed not just my appearance but gathered my poise. Ready once more, I made my way back to William’s office. This time, standing before William, I felt an inexplicable awkwardness. His focus seemed solely on the report I had submitted. “Very well, no issues. Judy, keep up the good work,” he said. William grinned, signing off on the document. “Thanks!” As I expressed my gratitude and reached for the report, William sipped his coffee. He inquired, “Judy, the company is considering assigning me a new assistant next month. Would you be interested?” His words took me aback. I was aware his current assistant had resigned for personal reasons, but I hadn’t anticipated William would choose me as a replacement. The role didn’t demand exceptional qualifications, yet it offered double the salary and benefits of my current position, with a significantly higher year-end bonus. “Could I manage such a role?” I asked. My heart fluttered with unmistakable excitement. Indeed, such a chance was rare, and the allure was potent; what woman, particularly one who had embraced motherhood, could possibly resist this golden opportunity? “Of course, you’re more than capable.” William assured me with a smile, standing up and placing a gentle hand on my shoulder. His touch sent a jolt through me, prompting an instinctive step back. My heart raced. “But I’ve never been an assistant before. I’m afraid I might not be up to the task.” Despite my interest, I voiced my apprehension. “It’s quite simple, Judy. You’d just need to accompany me on the occasional business trip. Nothing more is required,” William answered. Sensing my concern, William moved closer without my notice. This time, he reached from behind, lightly touching my chin. His gesture, coupled with the suggestive look in his eyes, sent a shiver of fear through me.

“Mr. Davis, I…I need time to consider this,” I stammered. I was caught off guard and swiftly retreated, grabbing the report from the desk. Then I exited his office. In the corridor, I unexpectedly encountered William’s current assistant, Madelynn Smith. She had seen me emerge from William’s office and seemed to have overheard our conversation. With a glance to ensure we were alone, Madelynn pulled me aside and whispered, “Mr. Davis wants you as his assistant, doesn’t he? “But be warned, he’s quite perverse.” With that, she patted my shoulder and left, leaving me rooted in place. When I returned to my workstation, confusion clouded my thoughts. When the workday ended, I hurried home. Lily was in the kitchen, preparing dinner, while my son lay on the bed, wailing. I rushed to feed him and soothed him until he drifted off to sleep. As the clock neared eight, my husband, Jeremy Johnson, arrived. Over dinner, I broached the subject of becoming William’s assistant. After all, stepping into the role of an assistant would tether me to a demanding schedule. Overtime would spill into my evenings, and business trips would claim my weekends. The thought of not being able to return home for my son weighed heavily on my heart. Jeremy’s response was immediate and firm, “Mr. Davis? You mean William Davis? I’ve heard he’s a lecherous pervert. Aren’t you afraid he’ll harass you?” His words left me silent. I had never discussed William with Jeremy, yet Jeremy seemed to know of William. I had toyed with the notion of negotiating for a doubled salary or some such perk, but Jeremy dismissed the idea outright. He was firm, advising me to keep an eye out for new horizons and to switch companies when the moment was ripe. His stance was clear. Under no circumstances should I continue working in proximity to a man of William’s questionable character. With Jeremy’s disapproval, I let the matter rest. After dinner, I tended to our son and indulged in a hot bath before bed. I expected Jeremy to be waiting, but as soon as I slipped into bed, he turned off the lamp, murmuring, “It’s late. Let’s sleep.” I was taken aback. As I tried to snuggle closer, I found his back turned to me, a cold rebuff. This revelation plunged me into a well of dissatisfaction. Reflecting on the day’s earlier encounter, when William’s fingers had brushed against my chin, my lust was reignited. I immediately complained, “Jeremy, do you find me repulsive now? It’s been ages since we had sex. Don’t you desire me anymore?” “I’m just tired. I’m so tired lately,” Jeremy replied. His words immediately doused my ardor. I lay awake through the night. The next day, over lunch, I confided in my best friend, Sarah Blake. After listening, she paused and said, “Judy, could Jeremy be seeing someone else? What man could resist for so long?” Her words were a wake-up call. I pondered, “Could Jeremy really cheat on me?” I didn’t want to believe it, yet the thought gnawed at me. Seeing my distress, Sarah offered a mischievous smile, “If Jeremy won’t satisfy you, why not find someone else? We’re adults; can’t we enjoy ourselves?” “Absurd! I’m not that kind of person!” I interjected, appalled. Despite my turmoil, I remained committed to my values, unwilling to stray.

Two more days of anguish slipped by, with no thaw in the icy distance between Jeremy and me. He worked late, and I was often asleep by the time he returned. On that Thursday, as the workday neared its end, William informed me that a client was visiting and asked me to greet them. Yet, upon arriving at the restaurant, I found no client, only William, casually dressed and smiling in anticipation. “Mr. Davis, weren’t we supposed to meet a client?” I asked with a hint of irritation in my voice. “Judy, relax. Have a seat,” he replied smoothly. “I’ve heard about your recent troubles. The quarrels with your husband lead to your low spirits. How about this? I’ll add 5,000 dollars to your monthly pay, and you can spend weekends with me.” His proposal left me speechless. A whirlwind of confusion swirled within me. Sensing my hesitation, William rose with a smile and positioned himself behind me. His hands gently rested on my shoulders, and his face was inches from mine as he whispered slyly, “If you’re amenable, we could retire upstairs for a while.” As he spoke, his hand moved towards my chest. Panicked, I caught his wrist. In a twist of fate, this moment was witnessed by Jeremy. “Judy, what’s the meaning of this? Are you cheating on me?” Jeremy stormed over, cursing and shoving William to the ground. Fortunately, his two companions restrained him, averting further escalation. When we were back home, a tempestuous argument erupted. I poured out every detail to Jeremy, recounting the reasons for William’s offer. Overwhelmed by a surge of emotion, I found myself sobbing openly. The quarrel subsided, leaving Jeremy to realize the depth of his recent neglect and the injustices I had suffered. He acknowledged the possibility of postpartum syndrome and vowed to take me abroad for a restorative break. Swiftly, Jeremy booked us on a direct flight to Dovie Island for Saturday afternoon under the pretense of seeking postpartum therapy to alleviate my symptoms. I didn’t object, reasoning that a change of scenery might soothe my troubled mind. Upon our arrival in Dovie Island, we indulged in the local cuisine before Jeremy led me to an enigmatic therapy center that evening. The ambiance, including the enchanting lights and the subtle fragrance, instantly calmed and delighted me. “Good evening, Mrs. Johnson. I’m your personal physical therapist. May I begin?” To my surprise, no sooner had I settled onto the therapy couch than a strikingly handsome man with the classic features of foreign descent stepped into the room. His features were finely sculpted, and his accent carried the charm of imperfection. Moreover, his smile was disarmingly enchanting. His eyes, filled with allure, met mine, and I confessed, at that moment, I was utterly captivated. “Please don’t be shy, Mrs. Johnson. Your husband, Mr. Johnson, personally chose me for you,” he explained. Sensing my hesitation, he gently comforted me. As I relaxed, he continued with a smile, “Your husband is taking a stroll now. He’ll return for you in two hours.” I nodded, smiling. Why should I refuse what Jeremy had arranged? The young man’s massage technique was masterful. With every touch, I felt more at ease. Tension melted away. As he finished with my thighs and waist, he leaned close and whispered, “Would you like to experience our special service? It offers double happiness.” My face flushed at his words. Perhaps due to a trick of my hormones, I found myself nodding in agreement. With my silent consent, he smiled and began to remove my disposable massage shorts. At that moment, the door to the therapy room opened again, and another handsome foreign man entered, starting to disrobe.

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In front of people, I was a high-cool school girl who was not to be entered by others; after people, I was an extremely thirsty, exposed girl. In photography elective class, I sat in the last row, knowing that a boy with a crush on me was looking at me; I also deliberately spread my legs to show him. … My name’s Ashley Wilson. Thanks to my pretty face and calm demeanor, the campus gossip crowned me the school’s beauty queen. But only I knew the real me beneath the surface. Ever since I turned thirteen, I’ve been battling a strange condition. When I heard my mom and dad making noises next door in the middle of the night, my whole body became uncomfortable, as if there was a fire burning in my body. At that time, I didn’t know what was going on until I gradually grew up and received a sexual enlightenment education; then, I realized that I was craving for a man. I secretly found websites to watch those movies, and slowly, I have been no longer satisfied. I secretly bought some little toys to comfort myself without my parents knowing and hid them in the crack under the bed. I knew it wasn’t right, but I just couldn’t help myself. The college had only made me wilder. Not only would I hide in the bathroom every day to reward myself, but I also became obsessed with exposing my body. Those who hadn’t experienced it couldn’t understand how thrilling it felt! Of course, when I first started doing this, I was very cautious, choosing places with few people and wearing a mask to cover myself completely. But I never expected to be secretly photographed. The person who took the photos even followed me home and got my contact information. [Didn’t expect Solar University’s beauty queen to be so wild and desperate, huh?] When I received this message, I was utterly stunned. I frantically looked around, feeling helpless and fear quickly spreading inside me. [Stop looking, Ms. Wilson. If you don’t want this video to be seen, you’d better do as I say.] Soon after, he sent me a video of myself being exposed in the park. My face drained of color when I saw the video. My hands trembled as I clutched my phone to send a message. [Who are you? What do you want?] Unknown fears enveloped me, shrouding me in a nightmare. [What do I want? Well, be at your school’s sports field at 11 PM tonight. Don’t you dare not show up, or you’ll become quite famous at your school.] [What do you really want?] I asked in panic, but then he went silent and didn’t reply. I looked up the number, hesitated, and made a call. It rang once before someone hung up. When I tried again, the phone was switched off. Staring at my phone, I was stunned. I had never imagined something like this could happen! Someone would know about my exposure! Not only did someone find out, they caught it all on video! What should I do? Called the cops? No way! If I went to the police, everything I had done would be out in the open. How could I face my parents if they knew their daughter was like this? And my teachers, classmates, friends… What would they think of me? The thought made me shake my head violently. No! Absolutely not! They can’t find out! My knuckles turned white as I gripped my phone. “Ashley, what’s wrong? You look awful.” My roommate Isabelle Winthrop came out of the bathroom and noticed my ghostly complexion. “It’s nothing.” I forced an ugly smile. “Are you sure?” Isabelle wasn’t convinced. I steeled myself, my smile turning calm. “Don’t worry, really. I’m fine.” “That’s fine. Go shower now. The hot water’s almost off.” Isabelle’s words snapped me back to reality. I checked the time. It was already 10:30. Didn’t that guy say to meet at the field at 11:30? My face dropped as I grabbed my phone and bolted. “Isabelle, something’s come up. If the dorm monitor checks in, cover for me, will you?” I dashed out before she could reply. “Hey!” Isabelle called after me, but I was too wrapped up in thoughts of “If I’m not at the field by 11, that video’s going viral” to pay her any mind. Our campus is enormous. I booked it, barely making it to the field by 11. [I’m here. Where are you?] I pulled out my phone and fired off a text. No response. I waited another minute—still nothing. [Where are you?] I sent another message. But again, radio silence. I was getting antsy. Why wasn’t he responding? He hadn’t already leaked the video, had he? My mind was in chaos. “Hey, you are really punctual, huh?” Suddenly, a figure appeared behind me and wrapped his arms around me in a hug. “Ah!” I screamed, only to have my mouth quickly covered by his hand. “Don’t shout, or I’ll send out the video!” He whispered menacingly into my ear, pressing his face against mine. My heart pounded wildly, my eyes wide with terror as I whimpered and shook my head. “Delicious.” He was like a creep, and the next moment, a wet tongue licked at my neck.

I trembled all over with fright, struggling desperately. Though I had rewarded myself countless times, I had never been touched by a man before. It was my first time! Panic-stricken, tears streamed down my face as I turned to plead with him. He wore a mask, obscuring his face, but his eyes, brimming with aggression, were clear to see. “Miss Popular, don’t you enjoy showing off? Show me something now!” He taunted, gripping my face with palpable excitement. I looked at him imploringly, shaking my head vigorously. “Show me!” He roared, squeezing my face so hard that tears flowed anew. Under duress and fear, I slowly lifted my skirt. The man behind me, his eyes bulged the moment I did so. His throat bobbed rapidly, eventually erupting into a strange chuckle. “Who would’ve thought our school beauty was so bold? Did you intentionally skip wearing it because you were meeting me here at the track?” Overwhelmed with shame, I clenched my teeth and whispered, “No… that’s not it.” “So you usually go without, huh? You really are daring!” His voice carried an odd laughter. I felt utterly humiliated. All I could do was bow my head in silence. He then removed his hand from my mouth. I was startled, and then a glimmer of relief crossed my face. I thought he was ready to let me go. Clearly, I was mistaken. His call to the track at this hour had an ulterior motive. Before I could relish a few seconds of relief, my body was already pinned down from behind, pressed against the track’s surface. “What are you doing!? Let go of me!” I cried out in panic. He braced his knee against my lower back and sneered, “What am I doing? What do you think? With you acting so flirty, you must be desperate for a man, right? I’m just helping you out here!” I heard the sound of his belt unbuckling. Despair washed over me. My hands clawed at the rubber track, tearing it apart. I dared not scream for help; doing so would save me, but at the cost of exposing my secret exhibitionist tendencies. The thought of those mocking and scornful looks made me wish for death! No! Absolutely not! I could die, but I couldn’t face social suicide! I finally understood why people joke about clearing their browser history before they die. Sometimes, social suicide felt worse than the real thing. He leaned in close. I could feel the heat radiating off him, his body pulsing with energy. Just then, a beam of flashlight light shot over from a distance. The person behind me paused, then hurriedly stood up and pulled me to my feet. “Keep quiet, or I’ll send out the video I took of you!” he hissed into my ear, then grabbed me and tried to hide in the bushes next to the playground. “Who’s there?” The voice of the security guard startled the man behind me. He pushed me away and ran off. I breathed a sigh of relief, quickly straightened my clothes, took a few deep breaths, and walked out, pretending nothing had happened. As I stepped out, the blinding light of a flashlight hit my face. Instinctively, I raised my hands to shield my eyes. “Which class are you from? What are you doing out here in the middle of the night?” The guard scrutinized my face with his flashlight, his eyebrows furrowed. “I couldn’t sleep, just out for a walk,” I said, feigning calm. “A walk?” He glared at me. “The dorms are locked at this hour. Who was that running off, your boyfriend? I know what you youngsters are up to.” I covered my face and bowed my head in embarrassment, which only made him more confident of his suspicions. “Young and misguided, engaging in such antics! Which class are you in?” The security guard wasn’t about to let me off the hook. My heart skipped a beat. If he found out who I was and which class I was in, I’d be toast. I covered my face, my eyes darting around. Then I spun on my heel and bolted. “Hey, stop right there!” The security guard gave chase. Age was on my side. I ran like my life depended on it and soon left the old guy in the dust. I sprinted to the shore of Solar Lake on campus and bent over with my hands on my knees, gasping for air. My face was still frozen in panic. But the campus was huge. Having shaken him off, I wasn’t worried about being found again. I felt relieved, remembering I’d kept my face covered since the guard showed up. He probably didn’t get a good look at me. Just as I started to relax, my phone suddenly blared to life. I nearly jumped out of my skin and almost tumbled into the lake.

My phone lit up with Isabelle’s name on the screen. “Hey, Isabelle, what’s up?” I caught her name and answered right away. “Ashley, I covered for you during the room inspection.” “Thanks, Isabelle,” I said gratefully. Isabelle hesitated, then asked, “Ashley, is something wrong? You can tell me! We’re roommates, best friend even. Whatever it is, I’m here to help.” Isabelle’s concern touched me. But this? There was no way I could let her in on it. “It’s nothing, really… It’s just some family stuff. I’ll be back in class tomorrow.” I lied, keeping my tone light. That seemed to satisfy her. She offered to call in sick for me if I couldn’t make it back in time. I assured her I’d be there, then ended the call. Sitting in the pavilion by Solar Lake, the breeze off the water did nothing to calm my racing thoughts. Who was that guy with the video of me? Would he come after me again? Was I doomed to live under his thumb? The security guard saved my bacon this time, but what about next time? Or the time after that? Could I count on being that lucky again? If not, was I just supposed to let him have his way with me? I stared blankly at the moonlit surface of the lake. I let out a heavy sigh. Oh, Ashley! Why did you have to have this kink? Satisfied now? Caught red-handed, huh? I felt utterly frustrated, but deep down, I knew I had no control over these impulses. I sat alone in the pavilion until dawn, only leaving when the early birds showed up for their morning workout. I grabbed a bite to eat and camped out in the classroom. About two hours it was passed before other students started trickling in. The moment Isabelle walked in and spotted me, she plopped herself down right next to me. “Ashley, what’s the emergency back home? You had to rush out so late last night.” I blinked, deflecting, “It’s nothing. We’ve got photography class today, right?” “Yeah, here’s your book. I bought it for you.” Ashley eyed me for a moment before pulling a book from her bag and placing it on my desk. I shot Isabelle a grateful look, not bothering with words of thanks. We’d been like sisters for two years. There was no need for formalities between us. Up front, the teacher droned on, our previous assignments flashing across the big screen. My mind wandered. Suddenly, my phone buzzed twice. My face fell instantly. These days, that sound sets me on edge. I snuck a glance at my phone and bit my lip. It was him again! Another message from him! [Hey, sweetie. Move to the back row.] Was he in the classroom? I instinctively glanced around but didn’t spot anyone out of place. Everyone here was from my class. There were strangers in sight. [Don’t bother looking. You won’t find me. Just do as I say!] I blinked, took a deep breath, and told Isabelle I wasn’t feeling well before slipping into an empty seat in the back row. The back was pretty deserted, save for one guy with glasses. I remembered him. He was Matthew Everett. If I recall what Isabelle had said, he supposedly had a crush on me. Plenty of people had crushes on me at school, but this guy barely registered on my radar. Matthew looked surprised when I sat in the back row. Then his face flushed, and he ducked his head. He couldn’t seriously think I’d come back here just to sit with him, right? I shook my head and focused on my phone. [I’m in the back now. What do you want?] I sent the message while scanning the room. A wild thought hit me. Could this guy be one of my classmates? From last night at the field to knowing I was in class now, even my every move. I couldn’t help but suspect he was among us! I studied each face carefully, but nothing seemed off. Some were napping, others were whispering, and a few were zoning out. The ones on their phones were just watching videos or reading. [Ashley, I told you to stop looking. You won’t find me.] I stared at my phone, silent. [See the person next to you? You like to show your body, right? Now, face him, lift your skirt, and spread your legs.]

The day I was diagnosed with a brain tumor, I saw my wife outside the maternity ward at the hospital. My heart skipped a beat with excitement. I wanted to rush over and ask if she was pregnant with our child. But just as I got to my feet, I saw her run toward another man. Seeing how intimate they were, I lowered my eyes and let out a sneer. I never would have guessed that all those times she said she was too busy with work to come home, she was actually preparing to have someone else’s baby. It was midnight. I sat on the couch, smoking one cigarette after another. The ashtray on the coffee table was overflowing with butts, and I let out a deep sigh. I clutched my phone, hesitating for a long time, scrolling back and forth through my contacts until I finally stopped on my wife’s name, Lizbeth Webster. I gritted my teeth and was just about to dial her number when the door suddenly swung open. I stubbed out my cigarette and stood up from the couch. I turned around and saw two people standing in the doorway. When I saw the man supporting Lizbeth, my eyes widened in surprise. It was the same man I’d seen with her at the hospital before. I stood there, rooted to the spot as if paralyzed. Lizbeth was drunk, her cheeks flushed, her clothes disheveled. She leaned against the man for support. That man’s face was a bit red. It looked like he’d had a fair amount to drink, too. He seemed surprised to see me home but still helped Lizbeth over to the couch, laying her down gently. “Mr. Webster, you’re home. Lizbeth said no one was here, so I brought her up,” he explained. “She had a bit too much to drink at a business dinner. If it’s not too much trouble, could you make her something warm to drink?” He turned toward the door, giving me a nod. “Goodbye, Mr. Webster.” I grabbed Lizbeth’s car keys from her bag and caught up to him, offering him a smile. “I noticed you’ve been drinking too. Let me drive you home.” He looked down. With only the porch light on, I couldn’t make out his expression. I thought he might come up with some excuse to refuse, but he nodded and agreed. I drove while he sat in the passenger seat. I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye, and he happened to look back at me. “Mr. Webster, when are you and Lizbeth planning to have kids?” Hearing his question, I lowered my head, gripping the steering wheel tighter. “That’s up to Lizbeth. I don’t want to pressure her. We’ll just let things happen naturally.” He turned his head to look out the window and said thoughtfully, “Letting things happen naturally. That’s good.” After dropping him off, I leaned back in the driver’s seat, staring at the lit window across the street, a restless feeling churning inside me. I remembered there was a pack of cigarettes hidden in the glove compartment, something I’d stashed away secretly. Lizbeth didn’t like me smoking, so whenever we went out together, I never brought any. However, I had a strong craving, so I’d often hide a pack in the car and sneak a smoke when she wasn’t around. I unbuckled my seatbelt and opened the glove compartment. A piece of A4 paper slipped out. I bent down to pick it up, and when I saw what was on it, a sharp pain shot through my head. I pressed a hand to my temple, my stomach churning violently. I pushed open the car door and stumbled out, crouching by the roadside, retching into the bushes. I dry-heaved for a long time, but only a little bit of stomach acid came out. That was when I remembered that I’d only eaten breakfast today. I wiped my mouth, wearing a bitter smile. I felt around in my pockets, but they were empty. Thinking about what was on that A4 paper, I clenched my fists. It was Lizbeth’s seven-week ultrasound scan. I hadn’t expected their baby to be that far along already.

Lizbeth and I first met back in college. At that time, I was quite the figure on campus, coming from a wealthy family, serving as the vice president of the student council, and being the captain of the basketball team. Plenty of girls were interested in me, and Lizbeth was one of them. Initially, I had no intention of getting into a relationship. I wanted to focus on my studies and personal interests, and after graduation, I planned to establish my career first. I knew my family would arrange a suitable marriage for me. I figured I’d just pick someone who seemed decent enough to marry. Because of this, I turned down a dozen girls, including Lizbeth. But she seemed completely captivated by me, persistently pursuing me for three years. During our senior year internship, Lizbeth and I unexpectedly ended up at the same company. It was a prestigious firm with incredibly high standards for even its interns. I hadn’t expected Lizbeth to make it in as well. That was the first time I really took notice of her. And it was also the first time I got to know her deeply. I discovered that she was incredibly disciplined. She was a diligent and smart girl. During our more than six months interning together, she never showed any signs of interest or confessed to me again. I thought she might have realized that we were unlikely to be together, so she threw herself entirely into her work. I did the same, pouring all my time into my tasks, hoping to secure a permanent position with the company before graduation. By the end of the first semester of our senior year, I didn’t get an offer from the company. But Lizbeth did. The company recognized her abilities. The boss admired her work so much that she was given a formal contract even before she graduated. That was the first time I felt the sting of failure. That sense of defeat made the second semester of my senior year particularly hard to endure. I couldn’t stand it. I didn’t want to leave that company, and I didn’t want to be outdone by Lizbeth. So, the year I graduated, I returned to the company with my resume. After several rounds of interviews, I finally made it to the last stage. During that interview, I saw Lizbeth again. She was so stunning that I couldn’t take my eyes off her. She sat in the middle of the company executives and smiled at me. “You’re so outstanding. Are you sure you want to join our company?” Looking into Lizbeth’s bright eyes, my heart raced. I hesitated for a moment, then clenched my fists and nodded. “I truly believe in the company’s values…” I said a lot, and by the end, I felt so nervous that my hands and feet were ice-cold. When I finished speaking, I glanced at Lizbeth. After a brief discussion with the other executives, they all stood up, leaving just Lizbeth and me in the conference room. Lizbeth got up and walked toward me with a smile. She bent down close to my ear and whispered, “I checked. This company allows office romances.” I stared at her in surprise. She raised an eyebrow, patted me on the shoulder, and gave me a playful smile. “On behalf of the HR department, welcome aboard.” From that day on, Lizbeth and I started a flirtatious relationship. Two years later, we officially got together, but Lizbeth planned to resign. I asked her why, confused. She said she wanted to have her own career, to make her mark in this city, and to rise above the rest. Seeing the determination in her eyes, I resigned from the job I loved and joined her in starting a business. We were fairly lucky. In about two years, we had our own company. Although it wasn’t very big, we had achieved financial freedom. That New Year’s Day, I proposed to Lizbeth. By the end of the following year, we were married. Now, we’d been married for four years. We’d been through the toughest times together. Life had been getting better and better, but then I was diagnosed with a brain tumor. I hadn’t figured out how to tell Lizbeth about this bad news, and she’d given me such a “surprise.” I couldn’t understand why she, the one who had pursued me in the first place, would betray our marriage in the most humiliating way.

By the time I got home, it was already past midnight. Lizbeth was lying on the sofa, tossing and turning in her sleep. Her short skirt had ridden up, exposing her legs. I sighed helplessly, grabbed a blanket, and draped it over her. Leaning down, I gazed at her heavily made-up face and shook my head. I couldn’t recall when she started favoring such bold makeup. Maybe it was the day I stepped down from the company, and she became the fierce CEO. She was always so strong-willed, needing to excel at everything, while I was more laid-back, preferring to go with the flow. Our biggest argument happened about a year and a half ago. The company was expanding rapidly. I suggested we slow down and take steady steps to avoid any mistakes that could lead to losses. But she thought I was too cautious, lacking in vision. She believed the company’s smooth sailing wasn’t just luck but a result of her relentless efforts. She even said she knew what she was doing and didn’t need me dictating how she should run things. That argument dragged on for a long time, and in the end, she even mentioned divorce. It was the harshest thing she’d ever said since we got married. After that fight, I gradually withdrew from the company, no longer involving myself in its affairs. To me, a peaceful home was more important than having a say in the company. Lizbeth preferred being in charge, so I stepped back and took on the role of her strongest support. After leaving the company, I noticed Lizbeth becoming increasingly busy, so much so that sometimes she wouldn’t come home for a month. I felt like a neglected wife locked away, waiting day after day for her return. Perhaps that’s when she changed. Maybe she had already stopped being faithful to our marriage back then. “Vince, don’t leave. Let’s have another drink,” Lizbeth mumbled, rolling over and reaching out toward me. Seeing her half-leaning out, trying to grab hold of me while calling out another man’s name, I took a step back. I yanked the blanket off her. I figured she wouldn’t need me covering her with a blanket anymore. I smoked in the bedroom all night long. I thought about it the whole night but couldn’t figure out how things had come to this. I pressed my throbbing head and stubbed out the cigarette on the windowsill. At dawn, I heard hurried footsteps from the living room, followed by the sound of the bedroom door being pushed open. Lizbeth, still in last night’s clothes, stood in the doorway, her brows furrowed in disgust. “Laurence, how many times have I told you? No smoking in the bedroom. Don’t you know I hate the smell of smoke? “And you left the cigarette butts on the windowsill? Do we not have an ashtray in this house? What’s happened to you? Where’s the clean and considerate man who never pissed me off?” Lizbeth was trembling with anger, her face twisted in frustration. I stood up and faced her. My head pounded, my stomach felt uneasy, and I was almost on the verge of throwing up. I clenched my fists and looked at Lizbeth. “I went to the hospital yesterday.” Lizbeth stared at me impatiently. “Don’t change the subject. I’m talking about why you never listen to me. Why do you always do the things I hate? When will you finally quit smoking?” “The doctor said my health isn’t looking good. I need more rest. I need to keep a calm mind. I need to…” Lizbeth cut me off with a sneer. “You need more rest? “Laurence, I’ve been supporting you for the past year and a half. You’ve done nothing but laze around at home like some rich lady. What right do you have to say you need more rest? “I’m warning you, if you smoke in the house again, I won’t come back.” She stormed over to the wardrobe, yanked out a couple of clothes, and didn’t even bother to look at me again. I lowered my eyes and let out a bitter chuckle. I thought to myself, “So, it’s really that obvious when someone stops loving you.” The contempt on Lizbeth’s face was obvious. With the clothes in her hands, she headed toward the door. I stood where I was and called out to her. “Let’s get a divorce.”

Lizbeth turned around in surprise, a mocking smile spreading across her face. “Laurence, are you out of your mind? Divorce? Don’t tell me you’re out of money and looking to get a piece of my assets through divorce. “I’m telling you right now, the company is in a critical growth phase and needs substantial funding. If you think you can get a divorce now, forget it. “If you’re really that bored, why don’t you go on a trip or something? It’ll save you from sitting around the house dreaming up nonsense.” Lizbeth stormed out, her footsteps echoing as she gathered her things outside. Hearing the sound, I rubbed my cheeks in frustration. I clenched my fist and slammed it onto the bed. I had only wanted to end our marriage, but to her, I was just some scoundrel trying to grab her wealth through divorce. I thought, “Well, if that is what she thought, then I’ll play along. The company was built by both Lizbeth and me through our combined efforts. There’s no reason I should suffer alone in silence while she and her new lover enjoy a life of luxury.” I picked up my phone and called my lawyer friend, Matthew Deleon. “Matthew, I need some legal advice.” After hanging up, a sharp pain shot through my head. I raised my hand and tapped my skull, forcing myself to stand up from the bed. When I was a kid, my dad always told me that as long as my will was strong enough, nothing could bring me down. This tumor in my head… It was just an inconvenience. It gave me headaches and soured my mood. However, I believed that as long as I held on tight to my willpower, I could pull through. Leaning against the wardrobe, I reached out for a shirt. I stared at the shirts hanging in the closet, but suddenly my vision blurred. I couldn’t even make out their shapes. I rubbed my eyes, but the fog didn’t lift. Frowning in frustration, I grabbed at whatever shirt I could touch. Just as I got hold of a sleeve, everything went black, and I lost consciousness. When I opened my eyes again, the world outside was shrouded in darkness. Lying there, I stared up at the ceiling and fumbled for my phone beside me. Bringing the screen close to my eyes, I noticed several missed calls from Matthew. I frowned. Just as I was about to call him back, Lizbeth’s name flashed on the screen. I squinted to make sure it was really her before finally picking up. “Laurence, I don’t care what crazy thing you want to do, but don’t let your friends keep calling me. “I’ve had a long enough day at work as it is. I don’t have the time, nor the obligation, to help your friends track you down. “There’s a lot going on at the company this month, so I’m not coming home. And when I do come back, I expect you to have quit smoking.” Lizbeth hung up before I could get a word out. I opened my mouth, but no sound came. I rubbed my eyes hard, but my vision remained as blurry as ever. The doctor had warned me that the tumor in my brain was in a terrible spot. It was pressing on both my optic and motor nerves. In the future, I might not only lose my sight but also end up in a wheelchair, completely disabled. Thinking about this, I immediately dialed Matthew’s number. I needed to sort out the financial matters with Lizbeth as quickly as possible. I wanted to be at my best when I divorced her.

Under my mother’s strict discipline, I was successfully admitted to Harvel University. On the day the results were announced, everyone praised my mother’s educational methods, believing she would enjoy a happy life. A reporter came to interview her, and she shared her educational experiences without any humility. She said, “Only through strict discipline can a child achieve success.” The whole city was celebrating for me. However, I left a farewell letter and stood on the rooftop. I thought, “Mom, you wanted me to go to Harvel University, and I got accepted. Please let me go.” My mother held a doctorate, and my father had a master’s degree from a prestigious university. After I was born, I could speak at seven months and walk at eight months. Everyone praised me as a naturally smart child, saying that with proper nurturing, I would surely get into Harvel University. My mother thought the same. She even used Harvel as my name, naming me Harvel Walsh. She was very dedicated to this goal. By the time I was three, I still couldn’t write well. I went to kindergarten during the day and came home at night to recite past presidential speeches. While my peers played freely in the yard, I envied them, always peering longingly through the window. When my mother noticed, she had the curtains drawn, cutting off my desire to see the outside world completely. She would hit my palms with a stick, her face full of disdain. “These kids are already losing at the starting line and will achieve nothing great in the future. You cannot be led astray by them.” Relatives advised my mother to have another child, saying such good genes shouldn’t be wasted. But my mother firmly refused. “All my time and energy must be devoted to Harvel. She is meant to go to Harvel University; she cannot be distracted.” Then she turned to me and said, “I’ve sacrificed so much and pinned all my hopes on you. You must succeed in your application.” When I started elementary school, my mother’s methods became even stricter. I had to complete extra exercises she assigned until midnight, barely getting enough sleep. I often fell asleep over my work. My mother would stand behind me and wake me with a thin stick. “All you do is sleep. You’re not allowed to sleep until these exercises are finished.” In pain, I would tear up but dared not resist. Over time, my mental state deteriorated. Relatives couldn’t bear to watch anymore and said my mother was stifling my natural talent and would drive me crazy sooner or later. My mother was furious, accusing them of being jealous of her genius daughter. Relatives told my father, who worked far away, but he was powerless to intervene. He could only advise relatives to mind their own business. Later, the relatives stopped visiting, saying our family was crazy and anyone who got involved would be unlucky. But my mother was very satisfied with the situation. Every day, she stood behind me with a stick, watching me do my exercises. “Now that no one dares to disturb you, let’s see how you can slack off.” The stack of exercise books beside my desk kept growing higher. I felt exhausted. After graduating from elementary school, I entered the best junior high school in the city. In this new environment, no one knew me. Because of that, I made my first friend. Her name was Melinda Acosta, and she was my deskmate. Melinda was cheerful and struck up a conversation with me right away, sharing her favorite snacks. I was thrilled and reluctant to eat the snacks she gave me, keeping them hidden in my backpack. After school, I eagerly gave the snacks to my mother and told her about my first friend. But my mother turned around and threw the snacks into the trash, scolding me for being distracted by trivial things. I lowered my head and dared not speak further. She then asked about the girl’s grades. I answered honestly, “She’s at the bottom of the class.” My mother’s expression darkened, and she said nothing more. The next day, Melinda refused to play with me and even asked the teacher for a seat change. I was confused and went to ask her. Melinda shoved me hard and shouted, “Your mom called my house and said that a poor student like me doesn’t deserve to be friends with you and will only drag you down!” The whole class looked over, whispering among themselves. “What’s so great about good grades that you look down on others?” “Is her mom crazy? What’s wrong with having poor grades? How can she insult others?” I was so upset that tears streamed down my face as I walked away silently. Returning to my seat, I found that the desk and chair next to me were gone. The homeroom teacher awkwardly told me, “Your mother insisted that you sit alone, saying that other students would affect your studies.” I kept my head down and said I understood. From that day on, no one dared to come near me, afraid of being warned by my mother for talking to me. I ate alone every day, attended classes alone, and went home alone. Every night, I did exercises until late into the night. In every exam, I was at the top of the grade. My mother proudly proclaimed it everywhere. She said her daughter was indeed born to go to Harvel University. I bitterly thought, “Is this talent?” I touched the thick calluses on my hands. They were the marks left by countless exercises. Later, I entered the top high school in the province with the highest score in the city. I broke the record for the highest score ever and was awarded ten thousand dollars. My mother gleefully collected the money. Many of her colleagues came to ask her for advice on how to raise such an outstanding child. My mother called each one to share her experience. “I think it’s still about talent. Both my husband and I graduated from prestigious universities, so how could our child be any worse? “If there’s no talent, then it’s all about effort. My Harvel does ten worksheets a day without fail. “No talent and no effort? Then use punishment. Discipline produces devoted children and talented ones.” She posted a video on her Twitter account. The title was [Strict Mothers Are Good Mothers] In the video, when I got a question wrong, she hit my back with a stick. The post was shared by her colleagues and unexpectedly made the front page of a small but prominent newspaper’s website. The headline was: [Will Children Raised by Strict Mothers Become Successful or Rebel?] My mother firmly commented: [Of course they will become successful. Harvel has never defied me.] But soon, my actions completely embarrassed her.

At the top high school in the province, I was surrounded by classmates who were both intelligent and hardworking. I found it increasingly difficult to keep up with my studies. In the first monthly exam, my grades plummeted—I fell to 30th place in the year. My mother couldn’t accept this. She stormed into the school and caused a huge scene. She insisted there must have been a mistake in the grading process and demanded a recheck. “Harvel has been a top student all her life. How could she possibly rank so low? You must have taken bribes and deliberately marked her down!” The teachers were frustrated but helpless. I felt incredibly embarrassed and tried to tug at my mother’s sleeve, hoping she would leave. But she slapped me hard across the face, her expression twisted with rage. “Harvel, you’d better pray they really made a mistake, or you’ll be in big trouble!” I clutched my face and retreated to a corner. The teachers tried to persuade her, saying that no matter what, she shouldn’t lay hands on a child. But my mother wouldn’t listen. She was adamant about the recheck. Unable to stop her, the teachers had to call in the principal. The principal asked the teachers to pull out my exam papers and regrade them right in front of her. The results were the same. My mother’s face turned dark. Without a word, she dragged me home roughly, without even asking for leave. Back home, in that study with the sealed-off windows, I endured a beating worse than ever before. “Harvel, is this how you repay me? You think I can’t control you anymore? If you keep scoring this low, how do you expect to get into Harvel University?” I curled up in the corner, shutting my eyes against the pain. All the wounds were on my back; when I returned to school, no one would see them. I had become infamous at school. Everyone was talking about how my mother had made a scene. But I had grown numb to it. This wasn’t the first time something like this had happened. The teachers were concerned and subtly asked if I needed help. I shook my head and forced a smile. I knew no one could help me. For the first time, I skipped class and wandered to the pond behind the school. The pond was filled with thick lotus leaves, and the blooming lotuses were beautiful and mesmerizing. I stood there, lost in thought, and a dangerous idea flashed through my mind. I thought, “If I jump in, no one will find me. It would be a way to end all this suffering.” I didn’t even want my mother to have my body. I pressed my lips together and moved closer to the railing. “Woof… woof…” I had one foot over the railing when I suddenly heard a faint bark from the bushes nearby. I stopped and slowly pulled my leg back. I thought, “I should take a look. One last look.” I never had a childhood—only endless practice papers day and night. When I was seven, I dared to ask my mother if we could get a cat or a dog. But she coldly refused. To her, anything that could tempt me was a devil luring me to stray from my path. It wasn’t that I particularly liked cats or dogs—I just wanted to feel the presence of something alive. I just wanted to feel that I was still alive. I walked in the direction of the sound. As I got closer, I saw a boy crouching in the bushes. He was focused on feeding a small dog with a piece of sausage. I recognized him. He was Spencer Benton. He was the second-highest scorer in the recent monthly exams. His photo was on the school’s honor roll. Noticing my presence, he looked up and offered me the remaining half of the sausage with a gentle smile. “Do you want to feed it?” I pressed my lips together, silently took the sausage, and fed it to the little dog. The puppy ate eagerly, occasionally licking my fingers with its tongue. The sensation was strange and new. I was surprised by the feeling and found myself smiling for the first time in a long while. After feeding it the rest of the sausage, I was still reluctant to let go of the moment. “You’ve had your fill for today. No more being greedy.” Spencer gently stroked the puppy’s fur. His voice was soft and soothing. I was a bit surprised and asked quietly, “Do good students skip classes too?” Spencer chuckled and glanced at me. “Didn’t you skip class too?” I bit my lip and instinctively lowered my head. It was then that I noticed the faint white scars on the inside of his wrist. “You…” I instantly understood why he was wearing long sleeves in the summer. I looked at him in shock. Spencer seemed to notice my gaze. He tugged at his sleeve, hiding his exposed wrist. He continued stroking the dog, his eyes downcast. “Her name is Bonbon. Isn’t she cute?” “Bonbon was born to a stray dog here on campus. Her mom was beaten to death. She’s all alone, so I come by every day to feed her.” While he spoke, I sat down beside him. No one had ever shared anything personal with me before, so I listened with keen interest. Then, suddenly, Spencer fell silent. I looked at him in confusion. “To be honest, I saw you thinking about ending your life earlier, so I purposely made Bonbon bark. I bet you’d have something to hold on to.” He lifted his eyes, a faint, pained smile on his pale face. “And I was right. You came back on your own.” “Because we’re the same.” I froze, stunned. Maybe it was because it was the first time I had met someone in the same situation. We found so much in common. He told me about his family. He had a twin brother who was a genius. His brother had won numerous national awards and had already been admitted to a prestigious university. As his twin, Spencer had grown up constantly being compared to him. Without his brother’s high intelligence, Spencer had to work a hundred times harder to make up for it. But he could never quite measure up. I looked at him earnestly. “But you’re already very good.” Spencer gave a bitter smile. “If only they thought like you.” By “they,” he meant his parents. I fell silent, feeling unqualified to comfort him. Spencer didn’t seem to mind. He picked up Bonbon and placed her in her little nest. Before leaving, he extended an invitation. “Do you want to come by tomorrow to feed Bonbon together?” I nodded eagerly, feeling a secret surge of joy. I felt that this place had become a secret paradise, just for the two of us. On my way back to class, my steps felt lighter, and it seemed like even the breeze smelled sweet. But as soon as I reached the classroom, my smile froze. My mother was standing right outside the door, staring at me with cold, unforgiving eyes.

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A single father had been raising his daughter alone for years, secretly solving his personal needs in such a way. ***** In the middle of the night, I got up to use the bathroom, only to find my father’s room still lit. Through the crack in the door, I saw my father, David Rhodes, setting up his phone by the bed, holding a tissue in his left hand while his right hand was under the blanket. The screen was playing porn. The headphones didn’t seem to work well, as faint, blush-inducing sounds leaked out. David’s breathing quickened, and he muttered curses under his breath until he finally collapsed onto the bed. I covered my mouth in shock, tiptoeing back to my room. It was hard to imagine that my usually dignified and gentle father would use such foul language while doing something like this. My face turned red involuntarily, the blush spreading all the way to my ears. I, Falon Rhodes, was nineteen that year. Though I had never had a boyfriend, I had always been curious about sex. But I never expected to stumble upon this scene. I grew up in a broken home. My parents split when I was three, and the judge gave David full custody. Since then, he had been both mother and father to me. I was incredibly grateful for all he had done, but I was also quite selfish. Growing up with just one parent probably left me starved for affection. I had always feared that another woman in our home would steal David’s love. That was why I had strongly resisted the idea of him remarrying. David worried that a stepmother might be mean to me and stayed single for over a decade. I used to think everyone had needs. I figured if David blew off some steam now and then, given his lack of a partner, it was no big deal. But reality was far from what I’d imagined. David was acting like a horny teenager. Almost every night since I’d been back, he’d been going at it. I watched his energy drain away day by day. His listlessness worried me sick about his health. But as his daughter, I had no idea how to broach the subject, let alone suggest he cool it. A knock at my door snapped me out of my thoughts. I opened it to find David standing there, impeccably dressed, and the picture of sophistication. He’d clearly made an effort with his appearance. A far cry from the hot mess I’d glimpsed that night, lost in the throes of passion. “Don’t forget we’re having dinner at Raegan’s tonight,” David reminded me, straightening his already perfect tie. I nodded obediently. Raegan was our next-door neighbor, another single dad with a daughter my age, Milley. We’d basically grown up together. Raegan took great care of himself. Pushing forty, he didn’t have a wrinkle in sight, giving him the appearance of a man in his late twenties. He always dressed impeccably, wearing gold-rimmed glasses that lent him an air of scholarly refinement. Being neighbors and both single-parent families, we’d grown close over the years, often looking out for each other. As I walked in, I saw Raegan, David, and Milley huddled on the couch, poring over photos from our recent trip together. Not wanting to miss out, I squeezed in to join them. As soon as I got close to Raegan, he lifted me onto his lap, wrapping his arms around me. That day, I was wearing something loose, giving Raegan the perfect view. I, on the other hand, wrapped my arms around his neck like I did when I was a child, pressing my chest against him. I could clearly feel Raegan tense up, his breathing becoming a bit unsteady. I had always been this close with Raegan, so I didn’t find anything unusual about it. Meanwhile, David and Milley were the same, with David’s arm around Milley’s shoulders. When they talked, they were so close they could feel each other’s breath.

Late at night, those sultry, teasing sounds started up again, accompanied by David’s muffled groans. He probably thought I’d be fast asleep by now like I used to be before college. However, my sleep schedule had changed since I started school. Now, these noises were keeping me wide awake. I was worried about David’s health. Could he really handle this? I knew I couldn’t just sit back and let this continue. I had to put a stop to it somehow. Barging in would only make things awkward, so I came up with a plan to indirectly interrupt them. I pretended to head to the bathroom, deliberately making my footsteps heavier than usual. This way, he’d know I was awake. Hopefully, the fear of getting caught would make him behave. When I came back from the bathroom, I didn’t hear any strange noises, and I finally managed to sleep. But when I woke up in the middle of the night needing to use the bathroom, I found a pair of women’s underwear in the trash can. Judging by the style, they likely belonged to a woman around my age. There was a sticky, foul-smelling fluid on them, and from what I learned in biology class, I knew exactly what that meant. The underwear wasn’t new, and it definitely wasn’t mine. A bold thought popped into my head. “Has my father started stealing from others? If this continues, could he become a rapist? If he gets caught, it could mean at least ten years in prison.” I didn’t dare to think any further. To prevent things from spiraling out of control, I decided to talk to David after coming out of the restroom. “Dad…” I called out. He turned his back to me with a warm smile. “What’s wrong?” I suddenly felt a lump in my throat. The words were right there, but I couldn’t say them. I was scared that if I told him, exposing the truth would be a huge blow, ruining his image in my eyes and possibly pushing him to do something drastic. After thinking it over, I decided to keep it to myself for now. I quickly changed the subject. “No, I just wanted to say, I miss you.” David chuckled, “I miss you too.” Even though I’d chickened out of spilling my guts to David, the whole mess was eating away at me constantly, robbing me of peace. Desperate for answers, I turned to the internet, searching for ways to curb sexual urges. The suggestions were all over the place. Some recommended intense exercise as a distraction. Others suggested becoming a monk, embracing vegetarianism and Buddhist teachings. One even proposed castration as the ultimate solution. Obviously, these weren’t practical. There was no way David would take up my advice. I shut off my phone, massaging my temples in frustration. Then, a thought struck me. Milley also had a single dad. Maybe I could ask her to take on this? In Milley’s room, I held her hand nervously. “Milley, I need to tell you something,” I said, “but first, you have to promise to keep it secret. Don’t tell anyone, not even Raegan.” After all, this was about David’s privacy. I didn’t want it getting out. Milley pointed at herself and promised, “Please, it’s like you don’t even know me. My lips are sealed. Just tell me.” “I found out my dad was…masturbating.” I lowered my head and blushed in embarrassment. I thought Milley would be very surprised, but she was surprisingly calm. “So what? Studies show most grown men do it.” “What about your dad? Has he ever…?” I blinked curiously. Milley nodded calmly. “Yeah, but it’s kinda awkward. If you see it, just pretend you didn’t.” I shook my head. “No, my dad’s different from Raegan. He doesn’t do it once in a while, he does it every day, and…” Seeing me hesitate, Milley frowned. “And what? Spit it out already.” “And he seems to be stealing other people’s underwear to… to do this. If anyone finds out, how will we ever face anyone in this town?” I said, feeling helpless and desperate. Milley’s expression was a bit odd, a flicker of something in her eyes. “What am I supposed to do? I want to talk to Dad, try to get him to change, but I’m so afraid he’ll just fly off the handle,” I sighed. Milley pursed her lips, thinking and saying, “Actually, I do have an idea, but I don’t think you’ll like it.” My eyes lit up. “What is it? Tell me!” “Maybe your dad should remarry, find a stepmom. That way, he’ll… you know, have someone, and he won’t be doing this sort of thing all the time,” Milley suggested tentatively. I rejected it without a second thought. “No way. What if he stops caring about me after getting a new wife? And what if the stepmom is mean to me?” I would never let anyone come between me and David, let alone some woman taking him away. “Well, there’s another option,” Milley chirped, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “I could become your stepmom.” I stared at her, dumbfounded. “Is this really the time for jokes? I’m about to lose it.” But Milley’s expression remained serious. “I’m not kidding. If I were your stepmom, considering how close we are, I’d never mistreat you. Plus, your dad and I could look after you together. Wouldn’t that be awesome?” I pondered her words. If Milley had been genuinely interested in becoming my stepmom, we probably wouldn’t have had any issues. But… My frown deepened. “You little rascal! I consider you my best friend, and now you want to be my mom? That’s a terrible deal for me.” Milley smirked. “If you think it’s a bad deal, you could always become my stepmom. My dad’s still single, isn’t he?”

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To ensure my son could excel in the high school entrance exam, I relocated to a communal apartment directly across from his school. This place, inhabited solely by parents accompanying their children, became my new abode. Each day, our routine revolved around the mundane task of cooking, with little else to occupy our time. As lonely middle-aged men and women cohabited for extended periods, it was inevitable that sparks would fly. Through the introduction of a female neighbor, I found myself entangled with a man, partaking in what they termed an “exchange meeting.” I, Julia Smith, was the mother of Max Smith, a fifteen-year-old boy. To bolster Max’s performance in the critical high school entrance exam, during his final semester, I moved to an apartment building near his school, dedicating myself to preparing his meals daily. The love of a parent was unparalleled. Almost everyone in this building was a parent, just like me. Each of us tended to our children’s needs. Beyond cooking, our days were empty, filled with idle chatter in small groups. Our regular visits to each other’s homes became a cherished ritual. With the gentle passage of time, however, something unforeseen began to weave itself into the very fabric of our existence. It was by chance that I discovered the secret within these walls. On a Monday night, as I rose to use the communal bathroom, I paused before stepping out. My attention was captured by the rapid, passionate cries emanating from the next room. It was Hannah Swift’s voice, followed by a man’s heavy breathing. I stood there, momentarily stunned. My eyes darted as I bit my lip with a mix of envy and longing. My husband, who was consumed by work, had been absent since my move. Thus, I lived a sexless life for a long time. The prolonged abstinence weighed heavily on me. The sounds from the adjacent room agitated the fire of lust within me. I lingered in the shadows, listening. My hands instinctively caressed my body. In the wake of Hannah’s piercing scream, an eerie stillness settled over the next door. I reluctantly withdrew my hand and sighed before I made my way to the bathroom. Upon my return, I loitered outside Hannah’s door. The light within remained on, suggesting her husband would stay the night. Back in my room, I lay in bed, haunted by the echoes of Hannah’s fervent cries. Her husband seemed quite potent. Sleep eluded me that night. At some ungodly hour of the early morning, sleep finally claimed me, and I drifted into a dream. In my dream, I found myself having wild sex with a man whose features remained tantalizingly obscured. Awakening the next day to damp sheets, I smiled bitterly at my physical reaction. I murmured, “What’s wrong with me?” It had been years since such dreams had visited me, yet the stimulation from Hannah’s sex with her husband had turned me on. I rubbed my temples and got up to clean the sheets. Then, I prepared breakfast for Max. Max was enrolled at a boarding school, making his daily return to this building solely for meals. He dashed back across the street to his studies as soon as his plate was cleared. I yelled, “Take it easy.” Max hastily drank his milk. He hastily wiped his mouth and snatched up a sandwich, rushing out with a hurried farewell. “Mom, it’s getting late. Morning reading’s about to start, so I’ve got to go!” I watched his retreating figure. My heart ached for the rigors of his studies. “Julia, you look tired. Didn’t sleep well?” Hannah inquired. She lingered at the threshold as her voice reached out to me. I shot her a resentful glance. “How dare you even ask that? If not for you, do you think I would’ve slept a wink?” Hannah was stunned. “What did I do?” I pulled her inside, whispering my complaint, “I know your husband is here. Could you two keep it down? You’ve had your lust fill, but I’m still horny! You bad!” Hannah laughed with a knowing glint in her eye. She leaned in close, whispering something enigmatic into my ear. Instantly, my eyes widened in shock. Hannah said, “My husband’s away on business. Last night, the man who had sex with me wasn’t my husband.” I replied, “What did you say? Not your husband? Then you…” I looked at Hannah in shock. Hannah regarded me with a look of scorn. “Why are you shocked? You’re new here. There’s much you don’t know. “In this building, we’re all dedicated parents, but as you said, loneliness breeds desires. When you’re alone for too long, it’s only natural to yearn for the companionship of a man, isn’t it? “You can’t deny it. I’m a woman, just like you. I understand your feeling. “So, we find solace in one another, in private, helping each other to fulfill those physical needs. “Naturally, these walls contain our world. Beyond them, we’re strangers.” Her declaration left me gaping, words failing me as shock rippled through my being. Wasn’t this a betrayal wrapped in the guise of fairness? This thought popped into my mind. Hannah said, “Are you still horny? If you’re interested, I could introduce you to a sturdy man. How about Jacob Blake? He’s the one who was with me last night. He’s quite good. Shall I arrange a meeting for you?” She blinked at me with a mischievous smile. “No. Thanks.” I awkwardly waved her off. “Why so shy? Your son still has one semester left before the graduation. You’ll be here for several months. Do you plan to live like a nun all this time?” Hannah pouted as she sincerely lectured me. Despite the allure, I couldn’t quite embrace this notion just yet. With a gentle resolve, I finally declined her offer. Sensing my hesitation, Hannah didn’t press further. “Alright, take your time. Just let me know when you’re ready.” After seeing Hannah off, I returned to my room and sat down, downing two glasses of water. Her voice reverberated in my mind. Each syllable sent waves of desire through the depths of my heart. Once more, sleep eluded me as Hannah indulged in wild sex and moaned in the next door. Unable to bear it any longer, I found a cucumber, washed it, and used it to assuage my lust.

The following day, Hannah came to me. Her cheeks were flushed with a rosy hue. “Julia, I apologize for last night. Jacob was just so good, and I couldn’t help but scream.” She covered her mouth, giggling as she stepped into my room. I shot her a stern look, feigning nonchalance. “Is Jacob really that good?” Hannah grinned. Her voice was laced with mischief. “Are you curious? I offered to introduce you yesterday. Why so coy? I’ll invite Jacob over for dinner tonight. You should seize the moment.” “That’s not what I meant!” I protested as my face flushed. I frantically waved my hands. Hannah snorted and spun on her heels, dropping her teasing remark, “Get ready. I’ll go talk to Jacob.” I watched her retreating figure and anchored in a moment of bewilderment. A sudden flutter of anticipation surged within me. But I swiftly shook my head. “Julia Smith,” I whispered to myself, “snap out of it. You can’t cheat on your husband.” Perhaps driven by an eagerness to make love, I found myself in the kitchen that afternoon, honestly pouring my heart into creating a feast. I even called Max, fabricating an excuse for him to dine at school. Seated at the table, I gazed at the door. A whirlwind of emotions, including nervousness, self-reproach, guilt, and a flicker of excitement, coursed through me. The knock on the door jolted me from my reverie. After a moment’s hesitation, I rose to greet my guests. Hannah stood at the threshold, accompanied by a middle-aged man who exuded an air of elegance. “Julia, this is Jacob Blake.” Hannah winked at me. “Good evening. I’m Jacob Blake, living downstairs. It’s an honor to meet you.” Jacob bowed slightly, extending his hand. A blush crept across my cheeks as I nervously accepted his handshake. “Hello, I’m Julia Smith. Please, come in.” As our hands touched, I stepped aside, welcoming them into my home. Seated before the dinner table, I felt a pang of guilt facing Jacob and Hannah. Moreover, I couldn’t help but notice that Jacob stared at me, adding to my unease. My heart raced. No longer in the bloom of youth, nearing forty, I was all too familiar with the unspoken language of his gaze. Jacob had aged like fine wine. Despite being middle-aged, he still looked dashing. He even radiated a captivating charm. Perhaps his allure was indeed from the wisdom and the rich experiences that time alone could confer. In stark contrast, my husband, with his somewhat unkempt and greasy demeanor, stood as a figure entirely at odds with Jacob’s polished aura. The weight of Jacob’s gaze made me uneasy, so I settled into my chair, choosing silence as my shield. Thankfully, Hannah’s vibrant presence served to thaw the ice. Little by little, my tension eased, allowing me to engage in conversation with Jacob. We sipped wine and discussed our families. Jacob, I learned, had moved to this building the previous year to support his daughter’s education. Like Max, Jacob’s daughter was in her final year of junior high, preparing for the high school entrance exam. “Oh, I’m tipsy. I can’t take any more. I need to rest. Jacob, take good care of Julia.” Hannah suddenly clutched her head, stood up unsteadily, and stumbled towards the door. My eyes widened, and I instinctively stood up and rushed to assist her. “What are you doing? I’ve set the stage for you. Don’t waste my efforts,” Hannah whispered. Her voice was devoid of any trace of intoxication. “You…” I was shocked. With a roll of her eyes, Hannah nudged me back into the room and shut the door with a definitive click, leaving Jacob and me in a sudden hush. The air between us crackled with an undeniable sexual tension. “Julia, I’m a fitness coach. Your posture suggests a spinal issue. If you’re willing, I can help correct it.” Jacob adjusted his glasses and fixed his piercing gaze on me. The wine had colored my cheeks. Under his intense stare, my cheeks burned even redder. “Is this too much trouble for you?” I whispered, biting my lip. “Not at all. I enjoy helping others,” Jacob replied, rising to his feet. As he approached, my breath quickened. “Let me help you relax first, then I’ll correct your posture.” Jacob took my hand, leading me to the bedroom. I followed him stiffly, allowing him to guide me onto the bed. “Don’t be nervous. We’ll start with your hands.” Jacob held my hands, tracing circles in the air. The action itself was innocent, yet with his body atop mine, his rugged chest rhythmically brushed against mine. Such an exhilarating experience sent shivers down my spine. “Now, let’s move on to your legs,” Jacob murmured. His hands glided down to grasp my legs, gently lifting and massaging them. I lay there, eyes half-closed. My eyelashes fluttered with each touch. “Ah!” My eyes snapped wide as a stifled moan slipped past my lips. His hand had ventured deep into my warm pussy.

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In my previous life, my husband, Felix Hastings, was snatched away by my best friend, Rachel Worthington, who was the only daughter of the richest man, Kenneth Worthington. They mocked me, insulted me, and even pushed me down the stairs to my death. Given a chance to relive my life, I set my sights on Kenneth, who was wealthy and handsome. He had few offspring, only one adopted daughter. It was on his account that Rachel had been so unscrupulous in murder. Surprisingly, I was born with a high chance of getting pregnant. Soon, I seduced him and had four babies. In this life, I wanted you to beg me and call me “Mom”. … In a daze, I staggered towards the room on the second floor of the villa. Kenneth, wearing silver-rimmed glasses and wrapped in a bathrobe, was initially taken aback when I suddenly barged in. His surprise quickly gave way to a cold expression. I bumped into him, feigning innocence and mumbling softly. At that moment, I had not yet experienced the damage of the fertility injection, and my appearance was as charming and attractive as a fairy. My soft hair was entangled between Kenneth’s fingers, and he caught a whiff of a light fragrance, which turned him on. His expression darkened instantly. Every detail about me, including the length of my straps, the curve of my neckline, the placement of my skirt’s slits, and even the tone of my voice in every sentence, was meticulously planned. I knew that by missing this opportunity, I would never get close to Kenneth again. He swallowed, and his gaze was burning hot. Suddenly, he pulled me into a tight embrace, and I could feel the warmth of his body and the rapid beat of his heart. He whispered in my ear, “Do you realize what you are doing?” ​At that moment, I distinctly felt his eagerness and eagerness.​ I knew my plan worked. Early the next morning, a scream woke me up. “Abigail! What are you doing? This is my father!” Rachel stood at the door, while everyone who had attended her birthday party the day before gathered there with mixed expressions. Staring at her innocently, I wrapped myself in the quilt tightly and interrupted Kenneth, who was about to speak. “I was drunk yesterday. We just chatted under the quilt. Nothing happened.” I understood that a wealthy man who was well-known in the business world would not want to be laughed at by others. Moreover, Rachel was not the only witness. Her expression changed from shock to anger. She clenched her teeth, staring at me with doubt and resentment. “Do you regard me as a fool?” With that, she was about to rush over to hit me. But she was stopped by Kenneth. “That’s enough! Didn’t you hear what she just said? “It was just an accident!” Rachel was stunned and was eager to retort. I leaned close to her ear and whispered, “You’d better buy my story. Otherwise, if your father is really interested in me, you will have to call me Mom.” Her eyes widened in amazement. After a moment of hesitation, she glared at me fiercely, pivoted around, and forced a smile at the guests at the door. “Don’t misunderstand. They just chatted all night.” The guests glanced at each other, laughed embarrassedly, and left. Rachel shot me a menacing look, identical to the one she had given me when she pushed me down the stairs in my previous life. I was born in a place called Belle Village. All the girls there were naturally beautiful and attractive. As a result, I was abducted three or four times during my childhood. Finally, I escaped to an orphanage and met Rachel. When I was a child, while other kids were pale and thin, I was healthy and attractive. The orphanage was not some paradise on earth, and the competition among the children was intense. Among them, only Rachel took care of me. Although many people wanted to adopt me, each attempt ended in failure. Not long after, Rachel was taken away and adopted by Gu Kenneth, who was known as a business tycoon. I was truly happy for her and genuinely believed she was the most important person in my life. Therefore, in my previous life, I was dumbfounded when Rachel touched her belly and told me that she was pregnant with Felix’s child. They mocked and insulted me for being infertile. Moreover, when I threatened to use legal means to divorce Felix and claim all the assets, Rachel pushed me down the stairs, resulting in my death. I woke up to find myself back in a time before anything had happened. It was so painful to discover that the two people I trusted most had betrayed me and that I never got to say before my death in my previous life, “It’s not my problem. The one who can’t have a child is Felix!”

Our family had a natural fertility trait, but I kept it a secret for Felix’s sake. Rachel, you relied on Kenneth, who was the richest man, to be so unscrupulous in murder. Since you liked my infertile husband so much, I would give the scumbag to you. I thought Kenneth was an ideal husband. He had good looks, wealth, and you as his only adopted daughter. When I gave birth to his own biological child, he would no longer care about you. In this life, I would make you beg me and call me “Mom”. When we got dressed and went downstairs, Rachel sat on the sofa furiously. “Dad, Abigail, there is no outsider. Do you have any sense of shame?” Shame? How ridiculous! That word should have never crossed Rachel’s mind when she slept with Felix in my previous life. Even so, I resisted the urge to curse. Covering my face, I cried softly, pretending to be pitiful. “I have no idea what happened. I just drank the glass of wine you handed me yesterday, and then everything became like this.” Rachel panicked “What! Do you mean I hurt you?” I explained, feeling hurt, “Of course not. You’re my best friend. How could I doubt you? But the people around you don’t seem trustworthy. Could they be acting behind your back?” Rachel flew into a rage. The upper class in Avalonville had always been hostile to her. She had put in a lot of effort to invite every guest to her birthday party yesterday. “You bitch, if you like my father, just admit it. Don’t talk nonsense.” Kenneth interrupted her, “She was indeed unconscious yesterday. “I taught you myself and know what kind of person you are. It’s also because I tend to spoil you too much. “You’ve actually made some undesirable friends. I’ve suspended your black card. You’re not allowed to socialize with them for now. Stay home and reflect on your mistakes.” “Dad.” “That’s it.” Rachel ran out in frustration. At that moment, only Kenneth and I were left. I said, “Mr. Worthington, yesterday was just an accident. I only intended to attend Rachel’s birthday party. I didn’t expect it to end up like this.” I choked up again. “But I hope you can forget the accident.” Kenneth was caught off guard. He had encountered women who tried to seduce him before, but I was indeed unconscious last night and tried to struggle several times. ​He remembered that Rachel had been the culprit in the accident.​ A hint of guilt surged within him. “I can give you any compensation you want.” I shook my head and smiled bitterly, “You are a victim, too. “To be honest, I’m already married, but I can’t get over this. I feel sorry for my husband and want to divorce him. “But we established the company together. If he learns of the reason for my divorce, all my hard work will be destroyed.” Kenneth patted my head hesitantly. “I understand. Don’t worry. What’s yours will be yours.” I gazed at him seriously with some admiration, my eyes wide. “Thank you, Mr. Worthington. You are so nice.” Kenneth felt that I was different from all the women he had met before. He had caused me to fall into such a state, yet I still thanked him. He walked me to the door and asked the driver to take me home. I exited the villa when something suddenly occurred to me. After turning around, I bumped into his arms, just like last night. He subconsciously hugged my waist. I took two steps back to create some distance and handed him my business card carefully.

“Mr. Worthington, I hope we can get to know each other again. “We’ll meet again in the business world.” Sitting in the car, I noticed Kenneth’s reluctant gaze, but I didn’t look back. Since he had promised me that he would handle my divorce, I didn’t have to worry about the division of property. I made a phone call and had all my stuff removed from the house. Additionally, I warned Felix, my ex-husband, that I had evidence of his affair with Rachel and instructed him to stay out of my sight. I thought that he cheated on me because we didn’t have children after several years of marriage. After being reborn, I found out that he and Rachel had been in constant contact. They actually played with me. Since you were so ruthless, don’t blame me for making life difficult for you. I stroked my belly gently. I could sense that I had succeeded yesterday and that new life was already growing strong in my belly, just waiting for the right moment. In the following month, although I gave Kenneth my business card, he did not reach me on his own initiative. Yet, I was not in a hurry. With Rachel around, how could she allow Kenneth to contact me? However, I was very confident that I could capture his heart. The memory of that night would be embedded in his mind like a stubborn nail, impossible to erase. Now, I was still the boss of the company. Coincidentally, this planning project was in cooperation with Kenneth’s company, and we had been communicating online before. ​When we next met, I was exactly a month and a half into my pregnancy.​ I revised several plans and chose the most perfect version. I leaned back in my office chair and sighed, feeling fortunate to have returned at the perfect moment. Now, in the prime of my life, I was not forced to quit my job for pregnancy preparation or to care for Felix’s mother all day, avoiding becoming anxious, pale, and thin or gaining excessive weight. On the day of the contract negotiation, I was dressed in a light blue business suit and carried a thick stack of documents in my hands. In the meeting room, Kenneth sat in the center with a stern look. However, at the sight of me, he was slightly startled. I smiled politely, as if I didn’t know him, and handed the document to him. He took the document, and his fingertips accidentally touched my hand. I felt the warmth of his fingertips, and my heart skipped a beat. Our eyes met, and the atmosphere was subtle. I was in charge of this project, while my ex-husband merely played a figurehead role, making occasional sounds but contributing nothing substantial. This situation highlighted my professionalism even more. In the negotiation, I did not give in. After several rounds of confrontation, we reached a consensus. Everyone exchanged pleasantries cheerfully. Just as I was about to see them off, Rachel pulled me aside and said angrily, “I spotted you flirting with my father behind my back. Do you still want to be my stepmother?” I replied calmly, “How could that be? I’ve been concentrating on my work. Given your time to worry about me, you might as well address your own relationship problems. I’ve divorced Felix, but why hasn’t he married you yet?” Her face suddenly darkened, and she stammered, “How did you know? No, I mean, what nonsense are you talking about?” “But you are right about one thing,” I smiled. “I really want to hear you call me Mom. “I’m pregnant!” I paused deliberately and then mouthed, “Your father’s child.” In a fit of rage, Rachel momentarily lost control and rushed towards me, wildly beating me and swearing at me. She pushed me to the floor, and the pain came instantly. Everyone was shocked. Kenneth hurriedly stepped forward to pull her away and asked, “What’s going on?” I raised my head, tears welling up in my eyes, and sobbed, “I don’t know! I thought Rachel just wanted to catch up with me, but she suddenly hit me!” Upon hearing this, Rachel immediately retorted, “That’s not true! My father can only have me as his daughter. He can’t have another child. How dare you claim that you are pregnant!” Before she could finish her words, Kenneth slapped her hard in the face, interrupting her speech. She covered her face, as if she realized what she had said. “You actually hit me for her?” Kenneth gritted his teeth, his face livid. “That’s enough. Shut up. In fact, Abigail and I have been in a relationship since she divorced.” Suddenly, someone exclaimed, “She’s bleeding!” I glanced down and saw that my lower body was already covered in blood.

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After I got pregnant, my boyfriend took me to a place in the mountains to rest. He promised that he would marry me in four months. But when my belly started to show, he went ahead and married someone else. I confronted him through my tears, demanding to know why. With a slight furrow in his brow, he replied, “Lillian, you should understand. The wife of the White Group heir has to be a high-society socialite “Be reasonable. My heart is with you. What more do you want?” I trembled uncontrollably. He made me a mistress, turned our baby into an illegitimate child, and then blamed me for being ungrateful.

When Cliff Harrod loved me the most, I suddenly found myself time-traveling to the seventh year of our marriage. At that point, he had already been unfaithful, keeping a mistress, and was in the process of divorcing me.