Everyone said Julian loved Anya more than his own life.
He pursued her for ten years, spoiled her for ten, and would ache for hours if she even frowned.
Yet, this same Julian betrayed her, not once, but three times.
The first time, he was drugged by a rival at a corporate gala and ended up having a one-night stand with a college student.
The day I brought up divorce, he shipped the girl overseas overnight.
Then he stood under my apartment window, letting the rain soak him for three whole days and nights.
He pleaded, “Anya, I messed up. Just forgive me this once.”
Looking at his pale, defeated face, my resolve crumbled.
The second time, I walked into him at the hospital, accompanying that same college student to her prenatal check-up.
His eyes were red-rimmed as he explained, “Anya, two weeks ago I was abroad for a business deal.
I got into a car accident.
She risked the car exploding to pull me out, saving my life.”
“Later, we found out she was pregnant, and Grandma threatened suicide if I didn’t keep the baby.”
He held me so tight, his voice trembling.
“Please, don’t leave me, okay? I swear, once she gives birth, I’ll send her away.
The baby will be sent to our family’s estate.
They’ll never appear before you again, I promise.”
And like an idiot, I believed him.
The third time, he was at an auction, openly bidding against me for my mother’s keepsakes.
That sapphire necklace was her favorite piece of jewelry when she was alive, the only tangible memory she left me.
But Julian’s bids grew more aggressive with each raise.
Finally, he drove the price astronomically high, winning the necklace only to give it directly to that college student.
I stormed into his private box, demanding answers.
He just tiredly rubbed his temples. “She’s been struggling with prenatal depression lately, and she really set her heart on this necklace.”
“Anya, please, just let her have this, okay?”
In that moment, a bitter laugh escaped me, tears streaming down my face as I did.
“And what if I don’t?”
He frowned.
“Anya, stop being dramatic. Serena is due any day now. Once the baby’s born, everything will go back to how it used to be.”
I stared at him, my heart feeling like it was being brutally split open by an axe.
“Back to how it used to be?”
What did ‘how it used to be’ even mean?
Was it when his eyes were only for me?
Or when he’d drive three hours on a stormy night just to get me a slice of strawberry cake?
Did he even remember any of it?
âMr. KingâŠâ
Melanieâs shocked cry echoed behind me.
She was clutching her stomach, leaning against the wall, her face a ghostly white.
âI twisted my ankle⊠it hurts so muchâŠâ
Dominicâs expression instantly twisted.
He shoved me away, almost knocking me over, and rushed to scoop her into his arms.
His shoulder brutally slammed into me.
I stumbled backward, my hipbone hitting the sharp corner of a table.
The pain was so intense, cold sweat immediately drenched my back.
âDominic!â I called out, my voice trembling.
But he didnât even glance back. He strode away with Melanie in his arms, leaving me only with his hurried back.
I stood there, the more I tried to smile, the more tears streamed down my face.
The life-saving act that bound him, coupled with that child they shared⊠Dominic, youâd never be able to shake her off now.
How could we ever go back to how things were?
I staggered to my feet, wiping away the blood from my temple, and got into the car.
My driver, Mark, asked cautiously, âMaâam, back to the mansion?â
âNo.â I closed my eyes. âTo the law firm.â
Two hours later, I, Seraphina, held the freshly printed divorce papers and headed to the hospital.
Outside the top-floor VIP room, the bodyguards saw me, their faces flushing with embarrassment as they looked down.
I stood at the end of the hallway, watching Dominic. Heâd booked the entire floor for Melanie.
Doctors and nurses were on call, and he stayed glued to her bedside.
If she so much as furrowed her brow, heâd panic as if the sky were falling.
âI really want tiramisu from that fancy dessert shop across townâŠâ
Melanie whined softly, fluttering her eyelashes.
Dominic didnât hesitate for a second. He grabbed his car keys and was out the door.
âWait here, Iâll be right back.â
I stood in the shadows, my heart aching as if it had been ripped open.
Only after he left did I push open the hospital room door.
Melanieâs eyes instantly welled up when she saw me.
âMiss King, are you here to accuse me? Iâm so sorry, I really didnât mean to. I just liked that necklace so muchâŠâ
Her tears hovered at the brink, her voice catching.
âEven though Mr. King took it from you to give to me, he only did it so I could have a smooth delivery, all to get back with you. Heâs been taking care of me, but I know heâs only thinking of you.â
âItâs just us two here, stop pretending.â
I had no desire to appreciate her masterful acting.
âYears ago, Dominic gave you fifty million to disappear, yet you still showed up in front of him, pregnant no less. I know exactly what you want.â
Her tears froze on her face.
âIâm done with your games.â I handed her the divorce papers. âIf I give these to him personally, he wonât sign. You figure out a way to get him to sign without him knowing.â
Melanie bit her lip.
âYou misunderstand, I never wanted to break you two upâŠâ
âThis is your only chance,â I interrupted. âThink carefully.â
Melanie stared at the papers for a long time before finally reaching out to take them. ââŠThank you, Miss King, for making our family of three complete.â
A family of three.
My chest felt as if a dull knife had brutally stabbed through it, the pain making my breath tremble.
âThen I wish you⊠a happy family of three, forever.â
Back at the mansion, I pulled out a cardboard box and began packing away everything related to Dominic.
Dominic and I had grown up together, the memories countless.
The first thing I placed in the box was a photo album.
Flipping to the first page, there was a photo of us at five years old. He was wearing a tiny suit, a stern look on his face as he stood beside me, but his hand was secretly clutching the corner of my dress.
Aunt Victoria used to say he stubbornly refused to take a picture alone that day, insisting on being with me.
That was the first time he showed his possessiveness over me.
The second item was a button from his high school uniform.
On graduation day, all the girls were scrambling for buttons from the boys, but I just sat at my desk.
Later, when school was out, I found his button quietly resting on my desk, along with a note:
âOnly take mine.â
Even then, heâd learned to use his status as the King family heir to keep other boys away from me.
The third item was a diamond ring.
The very day I became legally old enough to marry, he couldnât wait to propose to me on the massive LED screen in the cityâs downtown heart.
As rose petals rained down from a helicopter, this diamond ring shimmered coldly in his hand.
He put it on my finger himself, his eyes filled with love.
âSera, for the rest of my life, I am yours.â
If not for Melanie, I truly believed we would grow old together.
I chuckled self-deprecatingly, putting all these items into the cardboard box, then tossing them into the trash.
The next morning, I was woken by the commotion downstairs.
As I walked out, I saw the staff carrying bags of luxury goods into the living room.
HermĂšs bags, Cartier jewelry, Chanel haute coutureâŠ
Melanie stood in the grand hall, shaking her head delicately.
âMr. King, this is too much. I never wanted all thisâŠâ
Dominic looked at her tenderly.
âDonât argue, just take them. A happy mood will ensure a smooth delivery for the baby.â
The moment he finished speaking, he saw me.
His expression stiffened, and he quickly spoke.
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The day I was taken into the operating room, my family and boyfriend were all with my adoptive sister, watching her competition.
That day, my surgery had complications.
The tumor in my brain was removed, but my nerves were damaged.
I lost the ability to feel emotions like a normal person.
******
I had a tumor in my brain. I initially wanted to tell my parents and boyfriend about it.
But my parents were busy buying plane tickets to accompany my adoptive sister abroad for a dance competition.
My boyfriend was also working overtime a lot lately. My finger hovered over the message for a long time before I chose to delete it.
I knew that anything about me, even if I said it, wouldn’t matter to anyone.
After all, in everyone’s eyes, my existence isn’t even a fraction as important as my adoptive sister’s.
Â
My adoptive sister Rose is the daughter of Dad’s comrade. When she was six, a car accident unexpectedly took her parents’ lives.
Rose was driven away and shunned by her relatives.
She ended up dirty and wandering the streets until Dad, who came to pay his respects to an old friend, found her.
From then on, she became the second daughter in our family.
That year, I was ten, and Rose was six. Dad and Mom told me, “Crystal, you’re already a big kid.
You need to learn to take care of your sister.” I wasn’t sure how to take care of a sister.
All I knew was that Rose always seemed so fragile. She didn’t have to do anything but stand there and look at me with her tear-reddened eyes.
Everything of mine would become hers. At ten, I lost my bedroom and moved into the guest room.
At twelve, my piano lessons were canceled, and the piano at home was sold. The empty music room became Rose’s dance studio.
After fifteen, I never wore new clothes again, always alternating between two school uniforms. My parents didn’t care.
They dressed Rose beautifully and praised her looks to everyone they met.
From that time, I rarely went home. The year I was about to graduate from college, Rose went to another city for university. My parents briefly remembered me.
They often called to ask about my life, sometimes sending me job postings from my city.
Raising a comrade’s orphan to college was Dad’s greatest achievement.
He was in high spirits, saying he wanted to visit me in my city and help me see if my boyfriend of three years was reliable.
I no longer had any expectations of them.
But I still booked a hotel and restaurant for their visit, not expecting Rose to show up with them.
That day, her smile was as pure as when she first came to our home. She smiled at my boyfriend like that all evening.
Later, I saw Rose’s avatar pinned at the top of my boyfriend Tom’s Snapchat chat.
Before being taken into the operating room, I couldn’t hold back and called my parents.
The call only lasted three seconds, with Mom and Dad’s anxious voices on the line: “Crystal, we’re about to board.
Your sister’s competition is important. Whatever it is, wait until we get back.”
I didn’t even manage to say a word before the call was cut off. I stared at my phone screen, dazed.
Just then, I saw a new post from my boyfriend Tom. He said he was off to chase his dreams, with a picture of a plane ticket showing the country where Rose’s competition was.
I stared at the screen until Aunt couldn’t stand it and took my phone away. ”
Aunt has signed the consent form for you.
Don’t worry, whatever happens, Aunt will take care of it,” she lovingly patted my head and sighed, “Brother has been foolish all these years, poor you… Go on, child, I’ll be waiting for you outside.”
I was taken into the operating room as the anesthesia gradually took effect.
Before losing consciousness, I couldn’t help but wonder if I died in this surgery, would my parents shed a tear for me? And Tom, I thought, once I come out, I must tell him.
I knew he had changed his heart long ago. This time, I decided I don’t want him anymore.
Â
The story of Tom and me wasn’t very dramatic, but back in college, it was well-regarded among teachers and classmates. The story started typically.
The student council president, who had a great family background and looks, helped an exhausted logistics member who fainted from low blood sugar at an orientation event.
The second time we met, he had two candies in his pocket just for me. From then on, keeping candies in his pocket for me became Tom’s habit. He saw me as fragile.
He would always look at me worriedly and say, “Crystal, I’ve never been so afraid of losing someone.” He said I meant something different to him than anyone else.
There was always a special place for me by his side. Just like he always had candies ready for me in his coat pocket.
But the last time, after pulling two all-nighters for meetings, I reached into Tom’s coat pocket.
All I found was a strange lipstick, Chanel silver tube 116, Rose’s favorite shade.
Silently, I put the lipstick back in his pocket and learned to carry my own candies from then on.
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“Ryan! You clearly promised I could go to this party, so why are you backing out now? Yes, I admit, I only said I was going with a friend, not a *guy* best friend, but a best guy friend is still a best friend! You can’t question our friendship just because he’s a guy! You’re so narrow-minded, don’t you know that?!”
“Besides, I’ve told you countless times, he likes men, not women. That’s why I’m his best friend! He wouldn’t have any improper thoughts about me. When are you going to stop being so insecure?!”
Her resentful voice echoed in my ears, and my consciousness slowly sharpened. When I saw myself sitting on the couch in our freshly renovated living room, I realized it: I had been reborn.
And the sweet-faced, soft-voiced woman beside me, who even looked a little cute when she was pouting in anger, was my wife, Stella.
Watching her stand there, so self-righteous and argumentative, I couldn’t help but smile.
If I hadn’t witnessed her depraved behavior with that man, I might have actually believed her.
And the thought of her tearing our once happy and loving home apart for that so-called best guy friend sent a sharp pang through my heart.
Stella and I met through a blind date after graduation.
By the time I reached dating age, I no longer believed in things like “love.” After all, in today’s society, everyone is very realistic. When you go on a blind date, the first thing people look at is financial stability.
But I have to admit, the moment I saw Stella, I felt like spring had arrived.
That sudden flutter in my heart made me believe Stella was the woman I was meant to cherish for life.
So, I pursued her relentlessly.
Stella was the kind of innocent, guileless girl. And at the time, my startup was just beginning to see success. I wouldn’t call myself a hotshot, but I was definitely a rising star, and I wasn’t bad-looking either. By all accounts, winning Stella over should have been easy.
Yet, she kept me waiting for a whole year before agreeing to be with me, putting me through all sorts of tests. If I hadn’t been so deeply smitten, I probably would have given up.
Later, I learned it was all because she had a “best friend” coaching her from behind the scenes.
Initially, I thought it was normal. Girls are emotional, and it’s natural for them to ask their friends for advice when they’re unsure. It wasn’t until she mentioned her “best friend” was a guy that I realized something was off.
After we got married, I playfully asked her why she agreed to marry me. I expected her to say it was because of my persistence and devotion, or that she was moved by my deep affection. Instead, she said her best guy friend told her I was “a rich fool” and a good catch, so she went for it.
At first, I thought she was joking and didn’t take it seriously. But now, reborn, recalling all the awful things she did for that best guy friend, I realized she was probably telling the truth.
My longed-for happy life had been utterly destroyed by that best guy friend.
“What are you laughing at? Do you think I’m joking? If he really wanted to do anything to me, he would have done it ages ago. Why would he wait until now?”
“I feel like you have absolutely no respect for me, no respect for my friends! Do you think because I married you, I’m supposed to be your slave, with no freedom at all?!”
Stella tried every trick in the book to accuse me, hoping I’d agree to let her go to the overnight party with Brandon.
I looked at this woman, who saw my care and concern as a restriction on her freedom, and suddenly felt a sense of release.
Even if I stopped this foolish woman once, there would definitely be a second time.
Besides, her actions had already left me utterly disappointed. Reborn, I wasn’t going to waste any more energy on her.
If she wanted to go so badly, then let her go.
According to the previous timeline, she and Brandon would be arrested together and end up in jail.
That would be a good thing for me. Then I could file for divorce and ensure she wouldn’t get a single penny.
Thinking about that, I felt a little better.
If we divorced normally, by law, I’d have to split half my assets with Stella.
Over the years, I built this company alone. This entire foundation is my hard work. Stella, in these past few years, not only quit her job to be a stay-at-home mooch, but she also constantly secretly took my money to spend on Brandon. How could I ever bring myself to give half my assets to someone like that?
So, I smiled at Stella and said, “Alright, don’t be angry. I’ll let you go.”
Stella’s eyes instantly lit up. “Really?”
I nodded. “Really.”
Stella immediately threw herself into my arms. “Oh, honey, you’re the best! Don’t worry, I promise I won’t do anything to betray you!”
I felt a surge of nausea, but to avoid suspicion, I kept quiet.
Stella finished her perfunctory embrace, then quickly pulled out her phone and sent Brandon a voice message: “My husband agreed to let me go to the party with you! Come pick me up quickly before he changes his mind.”
Not long after, Brandon’s car pulled up outside our house.
I saw Stella out. She immediately got into the passenger seat and winked at Brandon playfully, as if boasting about successfully pulling off a lie.
She rolled down the window, turned to me, and said, “Darling, go back inside. Don’t worry about me. Brandon will take good care of me. Besides, we’re going to a respectable party, not the kind of dirty party you have in your head. Just relax.”
With that, she urged Brandon to drive away.
The moment the car pulled away, I saw Brandon glance at me through the window, a look of mockery, triumph, and a hint of disdain on his face.
I knew that was the look of a man who successfully stole someone else’s beloved woman.
But I smiled too, because I knew that before long, that despicable duo would be rotting in jail.
After Stella left with Brandon, I went back inside, looked at our wedding photos on the wall, and felt an overwhelming bitterness.
I used to think that as long as I was more tolerant and understanding towards Stella, our happy little family could thrive.
But I underestimated the importance of that best guy friend in her heart.
Perhaps she was truly happy only when she was with Brandon. Maybe she only married me for my money.
Scene after scene of our past flashed before my eyes, like bubbles popping, and my last shred of feeling for Stella vanished.
I began to pack Stella’s things. Starting tomorrow, this house would no longer hold any trace of her.
I bought this house to celebrate our third wedding anniversary. To surprise Stella, I waited until it was fully renovated before telling her, so only my name was on the deed.
The first time I brought Stella here, the surprise I expected wasn’t on her face. Instead, she questioned whose name was on the house.
I told her it was my name, but since it was bought after we got married, it was considered marital property, and she shouldn’t worry about it.
But Stella complained about it for a long time, saying I didn’t love her because I wouldn’t put her name on the deed, treating her like an outsider.
Now, I was somewhat glad her name wasn’t on it. According to the rules, as long as I could prove I bought the house with my own money, it would be my sole property. Even with a divorce, Stella wouldn’t get a dime.
I carefully took down all the wedding photos and started thinking about what came next.
With Stella in jail, my chances of filing for divorce were very high. Even if she was unwilling, with my connections and methods, I could easily get her to sign the divorce papers from behind bars.
And reborn, with my memories of the future, I possessed information no one else could know in advance. With this knowledge, I could undoubtedly grow my company to an unprecedented scale!
Maybe by the time Stella got out of jail, I would already be a top-tier magnate. I wondered how she would feel then, seeing me.
Just as I was envisioning my bright future, my phone suddenly rang. It was Stella.
A flicker of confusion crossed my mind. Based on the time, she should be having a blast with Brandon right now. Why would she suddenly call me?
Could they be playing some twisted game, and she called me on purpose?
I hesitated for a moment, then answered the call.
“Honey, quick, come find me! I need your help with something!” Stella’s voice was panicked, as if she’d just been scared.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“Oh, I’ll tell you when you get here! Just come over, and be fast!” Stella was frantic. After giving me her location, she abruptly hung up.
I was baffled, unsure what kind of game she was playing.
Could she have discovered Brandon’s true colors and had a sudden change of heart?
Regardless of what Stella was planning, I felt I should go. At the very least, I needed to see what was happening.
So, I quickly tidied up and headed to the location Stella had given me.
It was a small road, not exactly secluded, but usually empty at night.
When I arrived, I saw Stella and Brandon standing by the roadside. Brandon’s car was parked nearby, hazards flashing.
As I got closer, I noticed a person lying in front of Brandon’s car, with a puddle of blood on the ground.
Brandon’s face was pale, his eyes wide with horror and lingering fear.
“What happened here?” I walked up to Stella and Brandon, distinctly smelling alcohol.
Both of them must have been drinking.
Stella looked at me anxiously. “Honey, Brandon got distracted while driving and didn’t see someone on the road. He just hit them! We could have just taken them to the hospital and paid compensation, but Brandon was drinking today. If the police find out, this is going to be a huge problem…”
I immediately guessed what Stella wanted me to do, and my face instantly turned cold. “So, why did you call me here?”
Stella looked at me pleadingly. “I want you to help him! When the police arrive later, you can say *you* were the one who hit them. Otherwise, Brandon, with drunk driving and hitting someone, will go to jail! He’s still so young, and he’s getting married soon, and he’s about to get a promotion at work. If he goes to jail, everything will be ruined! Please, for my sake as his best friend, help him out, okay?”
Brandon also chimed in, “Man, please, help me out! I’ll be forever grateful for your kindness, I’ll repay you in my next life…”
My face darkened to an extreme. My eyes fixed on Stella. “You’re afraid of *him* going to jail, but you’re not afraid of *me* going to jail?”
Stella quickly said, “No, it won’t happen! I asked a friend, and you haven’t been drinking. Even if you hit someone fatally, you just have to pay compensation, it’s fine…”
“You mean I’ll have to pay for him too?” I clenched my fists.
Stella bit her lip. “Brandon’s getting married soon and needs money. We can just front it for him. He’ll pay us back when he has money later. Anyway, you make a lot, so it’s not a big deal for you.”
I nearly slapped Stella right then and there.
This woman, for her best guy friend, was utterly shameless!
But this was good. If you’re so heartless, then don’t blame me for being ruthless!
I looked at Brandon, a cold smirk flashing in my eyes.
A brilliant plan for revenge formed in my mind.
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I deleted my social media account with over a million followers.
Almost instantly, the internet exploded with speculation, wondering if my account had been hacked.
Then Emma Jenny, another influencer in the same niche, messaged me directly.
[Why would you just quit out of nowhere? Are you out of your mind?]
Even so, I shut everything off and went on a solo trip to see the beauty of the world.
In my last life, Emma and I had posted the exact same kind of video content. People accused me of copying her and called me a knockoff clone doomed to fade. I got bombarded with hate publicly and privately, and even in real life.
To prove my innocence, I shared screenshots of my scripts, behind-the-scenes content, and timestamps. But they called it fake and said I staged it all.
The constant cyberbullying pushed me into a deep depression. So, I ended up alone in my apartment, slitting my wrists.
But then, I woke up.
To my shock, I was back on the very day Emma and I had first posted those identical videos.
ââ
My finger was literally hovering over the post button. One second later, I wouldâve hit it and sealed the fate I already knew.
As such, my body jolted like I’d been pulled from deep water. I yanked my hand away just in time, chest heaving as I gasped for breath.
Looking around the familiar room, at the camera, the lights, and the draft of the video, I realized I had been reborn at the moment when I first tried to pivot my content.
After calming down, I saved the video to my drafts and immediately searched for Emmaâs social media.
It didnât take long, and her latest post popped right up.
And this one was nothing like her usual style. Her old videos were clunky, poorly edited, and barely scraping a few hundred likes.
But this new one had racked up tens of thousands of likes in just thirty minutes.
The comment section was also full of praise.
[Imagine this look in a survival game settingâunstoppable.]
[Sheâs doing million-follower work on a tiny account.]
[God, is this level of beauty even humanly possible?]
[Wife, my wife. Who the hell stole my destined wife?!]
…and on and on.
The dark background, the bold styling, the cinematography, music, and script, every single detail matched the video I had just saved to my drafts.
If I didnât know that I got the idea from watching a British drama and stayed up countless nights writing that script, I might have thought I copied her.
But the truth was clear. Somehow, she posted it first.
And just like that, she went viral overnight.
In my past life, that exact video destroyed me.
I remembered feeling excited, thinking the internet would finally recognize my work when I posted it.
But when I checked the comments, the joy quickly turned to dread. Everyone said I was a copycat. They even linked the original, which was Emmaâs video.
When I clicked it, I found the same concept, same angles, and same style. A 99.9% match.
But I swear. I never copied a single thing.
I was instantly furious then. Desperate to prove I was the true creator, I posted all my drafts and BTS footage.
But it didnât help.
Because Emma also posted her process, and somehow, her timestamps were earlier than mine.
Then came the backlash.
[She planned this âevidenceâ in advance just to drag Emma down!]
[Support originality! Say no to plagiarists!]
[Jennifer, get out of the beauty community! You donât belong here!]
[LMAO. You came looking for proof and got slammed by it.]
Even Emmaâs team and management released official statements saying they didnât copy anything, that everything was planned in-house.
I, on the other hand, was just an independent creator. No team, no manager. Just me, working on every piece from start to finish. So, no one stood up for me. Not even my boyfriend.
In fact, he posted a video too, announcing publicly that he was breaking up with me. Said all my content was stitched together from other creators, and that I was a serial plagiarist.
And that was the final blow.
The internet dragged me harder than ever. My comment sections were flooded with hate. My DMs were bombarded with unreadable and disgusting content.
The pressure crushed my creativity, and brands pulled away. As such, I hardly got by.
Eventually, I started hurting myself and soon visited a psychiatric clinic, where I was diagnosed with severe depression.
And one sunny afternoon, in a cramped little rental apartment, I decided to end it all.
But then, I opened my eyes, only to find myself back at the beginning, where none of that had happened yet.
But this time, I was going to find out the truth behind all of it.
Jennifer’s POV
Clinging to a sliver of hope, I logged into a side account and started digging through Emmaâs other social media profiles, hoping to find something that might explain things.
But, as expected, she wasnât the type to share behind-the-scenes details about her work.
I was about to give up when something in one of her live photos caught my eyeâa familiar figure in the background.
I zoomed in and tapped on the image. It captured someoneâs left hand, and on that hand was a ring I knew all too well.
It was my boyfriend Nelson Holtâs hand. Iâd given that ring to him for our one-year anniversary. I had it custom-made, so thereâs no way anyone else could have the same one.
That was when it hit me.
At some point behind my back, Nelson had gotten involved with Emma. No wonder when my world crumbled, he so quickly and cleanly cut ties with me and threw his support behind her instead.
I didnât have time to wallow in heartbreak over a cheating scumbag. I needed to think clearly.
Looking back, I used to vent to Nelson all the time about work, about how hard it was, about the creative sparks Iâd get in the middle of the night. Was it possible he leaked my ideas?
Honestly, it wouldnât surprise me.
But heâd been on a âbusiness tripâ lately and hadnât been around. And even if I could get to his phone, heâd never just hand it over. I had no proof he told Emma anything.
Still, this felt like a lead, so I wasnât about to let it go.
I pulled out my phone, sent him the photo, calmly explained what Iâd seen, and told him we were done. Then I blocked him without hesitation.
After that, I changed every lock code and password in my apartment. The last thing I needed was him letting himself in when I wasnât around.
With that chapter closed, I turned my attention back to what matteredâcoming up with a new video idea.
This time, there would be no mistakes.
Just to be safe, I decided to switch up my style again. That last video had been my first time stepping out of my comfort zone, ditching the sweet and delicate âfair-skinned, skinnyâ aesthetic for something bold, glamorous, and confident.
Since that look had been so well received, I figured going even further would only make things better.
I spent hours brainstorming, refining, and finally writing out my new script. When I looked at the finished result on my laptop, I couldnât help but smile.
No way anyone was beating me to the punch this time.
To avoid leaks, I filmed and edited everything at home. No outdoor shoots. No helping hands. Just me and my gear.
When I watched the final cut, I couldnât help but thinkâdamn, maybe I was born for this self-media life.
Still feeling cautious, I even went to Emmaâs latest video and left a comment.
[Canât wait for your next one, queen! Please drop it soon!]
Not long after, she replied to my comment.
[That last video drained all my creative energy, so I probably wonât be posting anything new anytime soon.]
I sent her back a crying-cat emoji and finally let out a breath of relief. Looked like she wasnât planning on posting anything new for a while.
So I was right. Last time, she mustâve heard about my concept from Nelson and rushed to beat me to it.
Still, was it really possible for two people to come up with the exact same idea?
It felt hard to believe, but I had no choice except to chalk it up to coincidence for now. Sometimes people just think alike, right?
With that, I uploaded my new video and drafted the caption. I was just about to hit publish when a notification from my alt account popped up.
I tapped it open, and immediately went pale.
Jennifer’s POV
Emma just updated her page.
She reposted my comment where I was begging for her next video, and dropped a brand-new one of her own right after.
In the comments, she added, [I originally wanted this to be a surprise for my fans, but someone warned me that this idea mightâve been stolen. So I had no choice but to post it early to clear my name. If I waited and someone else released it first, people would think I copied them, and Iâd never be able to explain myself.]
My hands were shaking as I tapped the video.
Then I looked back at my own video draft sitting open on my laptop.
They were so identical from scene to scene, down to the exact minute and second.
What the hell was happening?!
I held my head in my hands, completely lost. I never told a single soul about the concept for this video. How did she end up with the exact same idea?
Did being reborn still mean I couldnât escape the shadow of my past? Was I doomed to repeat it, to be cyberbullied to death all over again, just like last time?
Unsurprisingly, her video blew up. It was already climbing the trending charts.
With the back-to-back viral hits, her follower count shot from tens of thousands to nearly a million on a completely different level now.
But thanks to her statement, the comment section wasnât just filled with praise. It was also crawling with suspicion.
[Who copied our queenâs idea? Iâm all ears.]
[Iâve never seen this concept before. If anyone else posts a similar video now, weâll know who stole it.]
[People who plagiarize should just rot!]
Everyone wanted to be the first to dig up the tea.
Then Emma responded to the top comment.
[Sweetie, the other person is a big-name influencer with millions of followers in the same space as me. So, I wonât say who it is, but she recently stopped posting because she was trying to rebrand. I guess she hit a wall and decided to steal a small creatorâs idea like me.]
She didnât drop names, but she didnât have to.
That comment gave people more than enough to go on.
The internet didn’t need much to put two and two together. It didnât take long for users to connect the dots and come straight to me.
Quickly, my comment sections turned into war zones full of accusations, insults, and endless doubts.
But my fans did their best to defend me. Since there was no solid proof that I plagiarized, the hate was quickly buried beneath waves of support.
Still, I was exhausted. Mentally drained. Physically done.
Between the sleepless nights and nonstop stress, I eventually collapsed into bed and passed out without even meaning to.
I didn’t know how long I was out before a loud knock jolted me awake.
âJennifer! I know youâre in there. Open the door!â
âYou hear me?! Donât make this harder than it needs to be!â
I opened the door and found myself staring straight into Nelsonâs eyes.
âWhatâs the meaning of this silent breakup?! I just happened to run into Emma that day. Youâre being paranoid!â he barked, dragging a suitcase behind him as he pushed past me.
I snapped out of it and shoved him back toward the door. âWe broke up. I donât want to see you again.â
âEnough with the drama,â he said. âI came back to give you a way out. Just admit you were wrong, apologize to Emma online, and this whole thing goes away. Donât make it uglier than it needs to be.â
Hearing that, I lost it.
âI didnât copy her!â I screamed. âShe stole my idea!â
Nelson laughed like Iâd told a joke. âOh, so the person who plagiarized managed to post before the one who didnât? Thatâs a new one. Impressive.â
âEveryone knows you copied her,â he added. âYouâre the only one still lying to yourself.â
I pointed to the door, voice shaking with fury. âIf you donât leave right now, Iâm calling the cops and reporting you for trespassing!â
That finally made him back off. He picked up his suitcase, but not before throwing one last comment over his shoulder.
âPathetic. Youâll be crawling back to me before long. Just wait.â
I slammed the door behind him so hard the walls shook.
But it didnât take long to figure out what he meant.
Not even an hour later, he posted a video of his own, talking about our relationship and heavily implying he was ashamed of me for stealing someone elseâs work.
Of course, Emma jumped into the comments to say, [Thanks for speaking up, bro.]
Then she followed up with a statement on her own page.
[I still believe in the power of originality. As long as we stand firm, thereâs always hope. I wish everyone would join me in standing against plagiarism.]
Jennifer’s POV
Thanks to those two, I was instantly pinned to the wall of shame, labeled a plagiarist.
I wanted to defend myself, but I had no idea where to start.
What was I supposed to say? That the video Emma âcreatedâ was originally mine? That somehow, by some bizarre twist of fate, the two videos turned out exactly the same, even down to the second?
Who would believe me? No one. Not a single person would buy that story except me.
Then, to make matters worse, some sharp-eyed internet sleuths dug up my alternate account and found the comment I left urging her to post.
[So that comment wasnât about excitement. It was fishing for material to steal?]
[She really had the audacity to ask for an update. She basically treated Emmaâs work like her personal content library.]
Reading those comments hit me like a punch to the gut. I had no idea what to do next.
Even if I came up with a great idea now, what was the point? Emma would always get there first. Sheâd post before me every time.
That crushing feeling of helplessness wrapped around me tighter than ever.
Looking at my channel, the one I had worked so hard to build up, I knew what I had to do if I wanted to avoid falling into the same pit I had in my past life.
I deleted my account with over a million followers and posted one final message on social media.
[I canât prove that I didnât plagiarize. There are things I simply canât explain. Iâve deactivated my channel, and Iâll be stepping away from this platform for good. All I want to say is this: I, Jennifer Houston, have never copied anyoneâs work.]
Then I turned off the comments, disabled private messages, uninstalled the app, and forced myself to stop thinking about it.
If I couldnât fight it, then maybe it was better to just walk away.
I packed my bags and gave myself permission to take a long break. I needed to breathe, to rest, to reset. I figured if I stopped posting, Iâd finally see what Emma would come up with on her own.
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While I was giving my wife a bath after we got intimate, I accidentally touched her new tattoo.
My wife, who was always so sweet-natured, absolutely exploded at me.
“What are you doing, touching there? What if you scratch off my tattoo? Are you just taking out your frustrations on my tattoo because *you* can’t perform? A good tattoo costs thousands, you know! My money doesn’t just magically appear!”
She absolutely *despised* anyone with tattoos, and now she’d spent thousands on one herself.
My wife, something was definitely wrong with her.
After sex, as I was giving Chloe a bath, I accidentally brushed against her new tattoo.
My usually sweet-natured wife, who rarely raised her voice, suddenly unleashed a torrent of anger at me.
“What are you blindly touching? What if you scratch off my tattoo? I just got it done, it cost thousands!”
“If you ruin it, I swear I’ll never forgive you!”
She lowered her head, carefully, almost reverently, tracing the tattoo on her shoulder.
Only after confirming it was perfectly fine did she finally let out a long, shaky breath.
She glared daggers at me. “Good thing it’s fine,” I heard her hiss, “otherwise, you’d be in for it, big time!”
Just moments ago, when I carried her into the bathroom, she was so sleepy she could barely keep her eyes open.
But the second I accidentally touched the tattoo on her arm, she was like a startled cat, all claws out.
And wasn’t she the one who *hated* tattoos more than anyone?
When I was younger, I thought tattoos were cool too. I even got one behind my parents’ backs.
But later, when Chloe and I started dating, she accidentally discovered it.
I can still vividly recall the look of disgust on her face. She frowned, her voice dripping with disdain.
“What *is* that hideous thing you’ve got tattooed? It’s so gross! I absolutely *loathe* tattoos. If you want a future with me, you’ll get it removed, like, yesterday! Otherwise, I’ll just be disgusted every time I look at you.”
I was absolutely ecstatic when she said that. It meant she was serious about us, about a future together.
So, just because she disliked it, I endured the pain and had every tattoo on my body removed.
But now, *she* had gone and gotten a tattoo herself.
The sheer hypocrisy!
Her unusually protective attitude towards this tattoo kept screaming one message at me.
My wife, something was definitely wrong with her.
I tried to lean closer, to get a better look, but she immediately clutched her arm defensively, demanding, “What are you staring at, Liam? I knew you’d find a way to make it an issue.”
I froze. We’d been married for three years! And now she was telling me I had “bad intentions”?
That was just⊠insane. Totally out of line.
I pulled on my clothes, my voice laced with annoyance. “Chloe, what the hell is that supposed to mean? We’ve been married for years! What on earth haven’t I seen of you?”
“It’s just a tattoo. Why are you acting so weird about it?”
Then, something clicked. My voice changed, a cold edge creeping in. “Or are you hiding something from me?”
I scoffed. “I knew it. Why else would you suddenly decide to get a tattoo, out of the blue? So *this* is what you’ve been up to.”
A faint flicker of panic crossed her face, vanishing so fast I almost convinced myself I’d imagined it.
She snapped at me, then shoved her arm in front of my face. “There! I showed you! Now what? Did you figure something out?”
“Always being so nosy. I just didn’t want to show it to you because it was expensive, so I kept it hidden, alright?”
“You’re so annoying. All you ever do is suspect everyone and everything. Don’t you have anything better to do?”
She shoved me away and wrapped in her robe, yanked open the bathroom door.
Her strength wasn’t considerable, but for a split second, I was completely disoriented. I stumbled back, my lower back hitting the sink with a painful thud that made me wince and grit my teeth.
By the time I recovered and walked out of the bathroom, Chloe was already lying on the other side of the bed.
The faint glow from her phone screen lit up her face, a face beaming with a smile. And for some reason, it just felt⊠jarring. Almost blinding.
It had been a long time since she’d smiled like that in front of me.
When she saw me, she quickly turned off her phone and burrowed deep under the covers.
She was angry again.
I still couldn’t understand why she was so angry. I’d just accidentally touched her tattoo.
And what were those bizarre things she had tattooed anyway? What kind of sane person gets such a hideous, tacky thing tattooed on their arm?!
I lay awake in the dark for a long time, silent, before finally breaking the quiet. “Chloe, why did you suddenly decide to get a tattoo?”
She didn’t answer, but I knew she wasn’t asleep. Just a moment ago, a faint light had flickered from under her blanket.
The next morning, when I woke up, the spot beside me was cold. She was already gone.
My back was still throbbing from hitting the sink last night. After much tossing and turning, I decided to take the day off work and call a cab to the hospital.
But I never expected such a coincidence. Chloe was already there, bright and early.
When she saw me at the registration desk, a flash of panic crossed her face, immediately morphing into fury.
“Liam! Are you actually stalking me, you jerk?!”
Her voice involuntarily rose several octaves, causing quite a stir in the quiet hospital.
Curious eyes from all around turned to me, and my face felt like it was on fire, burning with embarrassment.
I forgot all about registering. I grabbed her arm, intending to drag her out, but she wasn’t about to let me.
She sneered, stepping back a few paces, her sarcastic voice drilling into my ears. “I never knew you were so clingy! When did *that* happen?”
“Or are you just hoping to catch me cheating?”
The crowd, ever sensitive to the scent of gossip, had already pulled out their phones, ready to record the explosive drama unfolding in the hospital.
I could practically hear them, in their SnapChat groups, vividly recounting the juicy spectacle to their friends and family.
“Chloe! What are you talking about? Who’s stalking you? I should be asking *you*! What are you doing at the hospital this early?”
My heart dropped. A wild, absurd thought suddenly shot through my mind, and I struggled to suppress my excitement as I asked her.
“Are you… pregnant?”
She’d always said she didn’t want kids, and we always used protection. Did we… hit the jackpot this time?
She froze, then became even more infuriated. “What are you talking about, you idiot?! Who the hell is pregnant?!”
Her reaction was extreme, far more than I’d anticipated.
In my memory, she had always been sweet-tempered. Even when we had disagreements, she was willing to sit down and calmly resolve them.
What was going on with her now?
She put her hands on her hips, taking a few deep, forced breaths before her voice finally, barely, steadied. “A friend of mine is sick. I just came to the hospital to check on him.”
“But you, weren’t you supposed to be at work today? Why are *you* at the hospital?”
I lowered my eyes, contemplating. What kind of friend, I wondered, could possibly make *her*, a notorious night owl who practically lives for late mornings, drag herself out of bed at this hour?
Before I could piece anything together, she answered a phone call and then dashed off without a backward glance.
By the time I processed what was happening, she was already fifteen or twenty feet away.
She didn’t even stop to hear why I was at the hospital.
I had no choice but to pull out my phone and message her.
**[Chloe, I accidentally hit my back on the sink last night in the shower. I wasn’t trying to follow you to the hospital.]**
**[Which friend is sick? Are their family members not around? You seemed so rushed.]**
Chloe was on my ‘close friends’ list, so I’d get a notification the second she messaged me.
But I didn’t get a single reply, not until I had taken my number and seen the doctor.
I tried calling her, but it just rang and rang.
Left with no other option, I texted her again. **[Are you coming home for dinner tonight?
I’ll pick up some of your favorite dishes?]**
**[Or is there anything specific you’d like to eat?]**
But all my messages vanished into the void. So, I just cooked a huge meal based on her preferences.
It wasn’t until six in the evening that she came home, humming a carefree tune, silhouetted against the setting sun, the whole meal long since gone cold.
I sat at the dining table, staring at the untouched, cold food, my expression unreadable.
She walked in, flipped on the lights, acting as if nothing was amiss.
“Why is it so dark in here? Why didn’t you turn on a light?”
The sudden brightness made my eyes sting.
Then she seemed to notice the food on the table, and she complained, “Why would you make so much food for just one person, Liam?”
“Money doesn’t just grow on trees, Liam! And didn’t we agree we were saving up to get *me* a new car?”
I slowly raised my gaze to meet hers. Unlike what I’d seen at the hospital earlier, she was wearing a completely different outfit now.
She had time to visit a friend in the hospital. She had time to go shopping at the mall for new clothes. But she couldn’t spare two minutes to reply to my messages.
“Why didn’t you reply to my messages? I sent you so many, asking if you were coming home for dinner, and you couldn’t even bother to respond to one.”
“You don’t answer calls, you don’t reply to texts. Chloe, how dare you ask *me* why I made so much food for myself?!”
I rarely yelled at her by her full name, and she knew I was truly furious this time.
Her face went pale. She pulled out her phone, a look that might have been guilt, or perhaps relief at finding a new excuse, flashing across her features.
“My phone died. That’s why I didn’t see any messages.”
“Liam, you know I didn’t do it on purpose.”
Bullshit, I knew!
“You had time to shop at the mall, but no time to charge your phone? Your phone had enough battery to pay at the checkout, but not enough to call me back?”
“You always have so many excuses! Just look at the past few days â have you honestly bothered to read any of my messages?”
“You clearly don’t care about me! So who *do* you care about? Tell me, who was that person you went to see at the hospital today?”
“Don’t think I don’t know, Chloe. None of your ‘besties’ have been in the hospital lately, I know that for a fact.”
It seemed I had hit a nerve. She stiffened, her voice defiant as she shot back.
“My friend was hurt, and I went to see him at the hospital â what’s it to you? I married *you*, I didn’t become your puppet, expected to obey your every command!”
“I have my own life too! I can’t revolve around you every single day!”
“Besides, you don’t even believe me anyway! Otherwise, why would you secretly follow me to the hospital?”
She clearly hadn’t read my messages. She hadn’t seen me tell her I went to the hospital because of my back pain.
Right. All my rambling, unanswered messages were just a burden to her, I guess.
By a cruel twist of fate, if I hadn’t hit my back yesterday, I might never have known she had run off to the hospital so early in the morning.
“I wasn’t following you to the hospital! How many times do I have to tell you I’m not a stalkerâ”
She cut me off, rubbing her temples wearily. “Forget it. We’re both too upset right now. Let’s talk about it properly when we’ve both calmed down.”
The front door slammed shut. I had no idea where she could possibly go at this hour.
At eight in the evening, the dinner I’d cooked lay mostly untouched. I picked at a few bites before dumping the rest into the trash.
Chloe had blocked my number and all my social media. I couldn’t reach her, so as a last resort, I called her friends.
My neighborhood was pretty isolated. It wasn’t safe for a woman to be out alone so late.
But from eight to nine, I called a dozen or so friends, and every single one said they had no idea where she was.
Where else could she possibly be at this late hour? I was just about to throw on a jacket and go look for her when I received a text from my buddy, Jake.
**[Hey man, why are you in the hospital? Everything alright?]**
My mind raced with questions. Who was hospitalized? I’d hurt my back, but it wasn’t serious enough to be admitted.
**[?]** I texted back a question mark. Jake immediately responded with one of his own.
**[Wait, dude, you’re *not* in the hospital? Then who the hell is with Chloe? I was about to go say hello to you both.]**
**[But my wife was rushing me, so I didn’t even get a chance to say hi.]**
**[Good thing I didn’t say hi, or I don’t know how awkward it would have been.]**
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I ate a snack bar because I was starving from working overtime, and my manager slapped me with a $600,000 fine!
She pointed a finger right at my face, absolutely fuming. “Alex, don’t think you’re hot stuff just because you closed that deal!”
“This is a workplace, not your kitchen! Eat your food at home!”
“Company policy explicitly forbids snacking! You knew this and did it anyway, so your offense is even worse!”
“Your $600,000 commission for that contract? Canceled!”
I just looked at her, cool as a cucumber, and said, “Whatever.”
I figured, why bother? I was already giving up, and thatâs when she really lost it.
Victoria was absolutely furious with my attitude. “Alex, write a public apology, you’ll deliver it at the all-staff meeting!”
I looked at her face, crimson from anger, and clenched my fists. Then, calmly, I said, “Fine by me!”
My colleagues all stared at me, disbelief written on their faces.
Victoria spun around, high heels clicking, and went up to the 23rd floor. I stayed at my desk.
A little while later, a notice popped up in the company-wide SnapChat group.
“Sales Department’s Alex has repeatedly violated company policies. After careful consideration, it has been decided to deduct this month’s commission, totaling $600,000, and she is required to present a public apology at today’s all-staff meeting at 2 PM as a warning to others!”
My colleagues looked at me in shock. Leo, at the desk opposite mine, sent me a private SnapChat: “Victoria’s having a total meltdown, don’t argue with her. Just suck it up, that’s $600,000!”
I just smiled. Sucking it up wouldn’t do any good; she wanted to kick me to the curb after Iâd served my purpose.
She’d been eyeing my position for ages.
When Mr. Sterling, the old chairman, headhunted me, he promised I wouldn’t have to clock in or out, I’d have complete freedom, and could eat or drink as I pleased, as long as I delivered results.
I practically ran half the sales department on my own.
This Monarch Corp. contract, worth billions, I handled the renewal myself, and wrapped it up in just a week.
Victoria probably thought my job was too easy and was just green with envy!
I SnapChatted back to Leo: “Just wait. This afternoon isn’t just my public shaming; someone’s also going to try and take my place.”
Leo looked shocked, but I ignored him, calmly sitting at my desk, organizing and printing all my client files.
Then I formatted all the data on my work phone. After doing both, I started writing my apology.
Victoria came down at one point, saw me writing, and couldn’t help but flash a smug smile.
At 2 PM, she arrived with some people. The all-staff meeting in the 23rd-floor conference room, with over a hundred people, was packed.
Victoria’s voice was sharp and clear. “I’ll reiterate: a company is a company. Don’t think it’s your home. Despite countless warnings, some people just don’t listen!”
“Don’t think you’re so special just because the chairman personally hired you. Anyone can close a deal just by schmoozing and having a fancy dinner!”
“Alex, get up here and deliver your apology. Let everyone see how you messed up!”
I stood up and walked to the front, under a mix of confused and secretly gloating stares.
“Manager Victoria is right. I shouldn’t have eaten that snack bar in the office. From today forward, I will strictly adhere to company discipline and never cross the line again!”
“Manager Victoria, I’m not much for words. If you don’t want me to eat, I won’t eat. Being a salesperson isn’t such a big deal anyway.”
“Good to know! Given your repeated offenses, the senior management has decided to revoke your position as Sales Director, effective today, and demote you to a regular sales associate.”
“This is our new Director, Brandon. He’s an MBA from abroad and will lead us to new heights!”
A smattering of applause broke out. Victoria pulled a smarmy-looking guy forward. Leo and I exchanged glances; he was completely floored.
Finally, Victoria added, “Alex, organize all your client files and hand them over. They’ll be reallocated!”
I readily agreed, printed everything out, and handed it over immediately.
These clients? If you can handle them, go right ahead!
Seeing my cooperation, Victoria seemed a little suspicious. She checked everything carefully, ensuring nothing was missing, and finally let it go.
Brandon, meanwhile, was strutting around like he owned the place. He came straight from the 23rd floor to my desk and tapped on it. “Alex, hurry up, pack all your things right now. Otherwise, if anything goes missing, you’ll be held responsible.”
I understood perfectly.
As Sales Director, my desk was in the same area as everyone else, but I had a whole row to myself, with an open view, allowing me to see everyone opposite me.
Now, it was different. He was eager to push me out, and my new spot was directly opposite him, by the window.
Even with air conditioning in summer, we weren’t allowed to close the blinds. The scorching sun blared through the glass, not only reflecting off the computer screen but also making it unbearably hot.
But none of that mattered. I quietly packed my things and was about to move my computer to the new spot when he stopped me. “Hold on. We need to check everything on your computer carefully. What if you’re taking client data with you?”
“Fine, check it!”
I opened my computer and let him search through everything.
Mr. Sterling himself had personally headhunted me. At the time, heâd told me, “Alex, you have absolute authority in this company!”
Mr. Sterling’s health had declined in recent years, and heâd gone abroad for treatment. Everything they were doing now struck me as utterly ridiculous.
I knew exactly what Victoria was thinking: kicking me to the curb to cut costs. But unfortunately, costs aren’t that easy to cut.
Brandon found nothing suspicious and could only wave me off.
Leo sent me a message: “Don’t worry, Alex. We’re all rooting for you!”
I sent back a smiling emoji. What good was their support? I didn’t believe for a second that the senior management on the 23rd floor was unaware of what Victoria was doing to me. They were tacitly approving it.
That meant Mr. Sterling, far across the ocean, must also know. If that was the case, there was no point in arguing with them.
I clocked out at the end of the day, just as usual. I didnât know what their previous expectations were, but from now on, I’d strictly follow company procedures. That couldn’t be a problem, right?
According to my old routine, I’d usually meet clients for tea and chats after work. But not anymore.
I drove straight home, lay on my long-missed bed, and watched the sunset, feeling fantastic.
Normally, I’d always be out entertaining clients, with endless social obligations. Now, I finally had time to myself. I opened my phone, searched for theater tickets, and booked one for myself.
My favorite theater actor had performed hundreds of shows, but Iâd never been to a single one. Now, I finally had the time.
Soon after, I was added to a new sales group.
Brandon was the group admin.
“Attention All Staff: From now on, all sales personnel must write daily sales logs. You need to report who you met, what was discussed, and if there’s any potential interest, for my review.”
“You must secure 5 potential clients each month. If you fail to meet this, your end-of-month evaluation will be reduced by 20%.”
Leo messaged me privately: “Look at him! Says he came back from overseas, but he’s using all these outdated methods on us?”
“Has he ever even worked in sales? Potential clients aren’t that easy to find! Five a month? The entire company only closes deals based on old clients these days!”
“The economy’s rough now, it’s not that simple. And the big clients aren’t ones *we* can handle. For small clients, this city only has so many people. He really doesn’t want to give us any breathing room.”
Seeing Leo’s rant, I just comforted him, “Take it easy. Just do whatever your boss tells you to.”
“Alex, are you really just going to let him push you around? I wouldn’t stand for it! If it were me, I’d have quit ages ago! I can’t take this crap!”
Leo was always outspoken. I smiled at his messages but didn’t reply.
I wasn’t in a hurry. They’d find out soon enough.
The next day at work, I submitted my annual leave request. I’d been with the company for eight years and hadn’t taken a single day of annual leave.
When I submitted the request, Brandon looked at me. “What’s the meaning of this, Alex? I just started, and you want to take time off? Are you deliberately trying to go against me?”
“Director Brandon, you’re overreacting. Under your leadership, I’m sure we’ll turn things around. I haven’t had a break in so many years, I just can’t take it anymore. I plan to take some annual leave to truly relax and recover. My body can’t handle it.”
He sized me up, his eyes full of disdain. “Right, I suppose you do have to service all those big clients. People over thirty certainly can’t keep up.”
His words had a hidden meaning, I knew. He was implying I’d used improper methods to land those clients.
Once people form a prejudice, it’s hard to change their minds.
But for now, I wouldn’t explain myself further. Brandon still signed it.
“Remember the end-of-month evaluation! If you don’t meet it, your base salary will be docked!”
“Fail for three consecutive months, and you’ll be packing your bags and out the door!”
“Understood. Don’t worry, I’m not leaving.”
Because the ones leaving would have to be them!
After completing the paperwork, I packed my things and started my vacation. First stop: the state capital. Today was the day of the show I’d been waiting for; I couldn’t miss it.
Two hours later, as soon as I got off the high-speed train, Leo sent me a message: “Alex, the Luminar Group contract is finalized, and Victoria says the credit for this achievement will go to Brandon.”
“By the end of the year, they’re going to push for Brandon to be the head of the sales department. That way, Victoria herself can get another promotion!”
“The nerve! Are you just going to let them get away with it?”
“Not yet. They can’t handle it. Just wait!”
I sent that message and smiled. Renewing the Luminar contract wasn’t something you could just achieve by wining and dining.
I ignored it, put my phone on silent, and sat in the auditorium, looking at the stage just a meter away. I felt incredibly excited.
My emotions ebbed and flowed with the play, laughing at times, crying at others.
Two hours later, I walked out of the auditorium, pulled out my phone, and saw over a hundred missed calls and countless SnapChat messages.
The most recent one was from Victoria, sent just moments ago.
“Alex, Mr. Miller from Luminar Group says there’s a problem with the contract, and they’re backing out! The direct loss is over $3 billion! You can expect to be fired!”
I scoffed, and simply replied, “The contract was handed over to Brandon. If he can’t handle it, am I supposed to take the blame?”
“Manager Victoria, if you want to fire me, remember to give me my severance.”
After sending it, I shoved my phone back into my pocket. Even Leo couldn’t reach me.
I wandered around, eating and shopping, and the constant stream of messages on my phone gave me a pretty good idea of what was happening.
After I left, Brandon decided to “build rapport” with the major client and went to Luminar Group, bringing gifts.
He ran into Mr. Miller, who, upon learning he was the new director, asked a few technical questions. Brandon couldn’t answer a single one. Mr. Miller felt the company was unprofessional and insisted on an on-site visit.
I’d personally taken him to that site 800 times. Brandon had never been there. When they arrived, they happened to find a machine broken.
Brandon told an engineer to come fix it.
But no one could fix the new machine. Whenever there was a problem, I was the one who called in my contacts to repair it.
Brandon used this as an excuse, claiming I had deliberately sabotaged the machine.
Mr. Miller immediately declared that our company was a fraud and he wouldn’t renew the contract.
Not only had Brandon botched the contract, costing the company $3 billion, but Mr. Miller also ridiculed Brandon, and it even reached Mr. Sterling, the old chairman.
Just then, Leo called. “Alex, you need to come back! They’re about to call the police, saying you committed malicious fraud!”
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I found myself in a novel as the malicious supporting character.
But I haven’t done anything wrong. I’ve even become friends with the heroine and married the gentle second lead.
I always thought I was happy until I stumbled upon my husband’s diary.
It turns out he was reborn. All these years of kindness were just to prevent me from harming the heroine…
******
Holding the pregnancy test result and touching the tiny life inside me, I felt an unprecedented sense of security.
I’ve been living in this world for 13 years, and at this moment, it feels like I’ve finally found a complete sense of belonging and attachment.
I transmigrated into this novel world after my death, becoming the malicious supporting character with the same name as mine.
But I thought I was lucky.
I arrived before the story unfolded, so I hadn’t done anything to wrong the main characters.
In fact, because of the female lead’s cheerful personality, we became best friends who could talk about anything.
I turned into a guardian of love, encouraging her to pursue her romantic interests actively, watching her fall in love with the male lead, and sending her off as a bridesmaid when she married the man she loved.
The female lead is the second person I want to share my good news with; as for the first, it’s obviously my husband.
My husband, Andrew, was originally the gentle second male lead in the novel, always silently protecting the female lead.
Perhaps due to the butterfly effect of my changes, he no longer follows the female lead but focuses all his attention and affection on me.
Walking together for 13 years, I truly felt loved, so I married for love without hesitation.
Now, our little family is about to welcome a new life, and I can’t wait to share this good news with him.
Â
I thought about it, and instead of saying it directly, I decided to let him discover it himself. I sneaked into the study, sat in his chair, and casually opened a drawer.
An old notebook caught my eye. It stood out because it didn’t match the neat and uniform files around it.
It should have been at the bottom, but a corner was accidentally exposed in the owner’s rush.
I carefully picked up the notebook and couldn’t help but laugh.
It was the type of girly notebook cover we used in our school days, worn with age, but the owner likely opened it frequently to record things, as the edges were curled, and the pages were yellowed.
We never had secrets between us as a couple, so I opened it without any hesitation.
On the title page was written in large English handwriting: Forever Love. I lowered my head with a shy smile, my face flushing.
Could this be a love letter he wrote for me? I took out the pregnancy test result, planning to place it inside.
I wanted to give him my most precious “love letter.”
I carefully opened the first page and was instantly dumbfoundedâmy eternal love, Tina. Tina is the female lead in the story.
Suddenly, I felt my blood reverse, and my whole body froze as if my throat was stuffed with heavy cotton, making it hard to breathe.
My fingers trembled, yet uncontrollably, I read page by page. With a kind of obsessive self-torture, I read the entire diary word by word.
Rather than a diary, it’s more like a love letter that can’t be sent, summarized in just a few words: Andrew loves Tina but can’t be with her.
It turns out Andrew was reborn; it turns out Andrew always loved Tina deeply; it turns out all of Andrew’s care and affection for me was just an act!
He needed to keep an eye on me to prevent any possibility of me harming the woman he loves.
The joy of being pregnant vanished, leaving only bitterness in my heart. For 13 years, I never thought of harming Tina, but at this moment, I truly envied her.
I envied her for the brief kindness and warmth she once gave, which made a man remember her deeply for 13 years, even at the cost of entangling with the malicious supporting character to ensure her happiness.
My heart was in turmoil, tangled with pain and despair, and I couldn’t even remember how long I cried, just feeling that everything around me turned into a terrifying illusion.
Exhausted, I fell asleep on the sofa until Andrew came home and woke me up. He was reeking of alcohol, staggering as he walked.
“Honey, I’m back…”
he said with a smile.
“Sorry, I had a business dinner tonight, so I came back late.” I smiled bitterly, the smile not reaching my eyes, yet I still fulfilled my duty as a wife.
I went to help him, undoing his tightly buttoned tie and loosening the collar.
“Thank you, honey, you’re so good.”
I gazed at Andrew, realizing his gratitude was very perfunctory.
If he paid a bit more attention, he would have noticed the redness and swelling in my eyes. Perhaps pretending to deal with me has become a habit for him.
I helped Andrew to the bed, undressed him, and prepared to clean his face and body.
Drunk, Andrew’s willpower slackened, as if he let down his guard, revealing his true feelings with weary vulnerability.
“Tina…”
I flinched, thinking I was hallucinating. I stared at Andrew, my nails digging into my palms. “Tina.” The cruel reminder echoed again.
In a self-destructive manner, I subconsciously imitated Tina’s tone.
“Andrew.” Andrew suddenly grabbed my hand tightly, his drunken eyes filled with tenderness and affection. “Tina, as long as you’re happy, everything I do is worth it.”
A short sentence fixed me once again in the cage of deception. I felt breathless, everything before me becoming bizarre, and I fled from the bedroom in a mix of running and hiding.
It turns out the love I chose without hesitation was a joke from start to finish.
Â
I didn’t sleep well. The various things the malicious supporting character Amelia did in the novel replayed crazily in my mind.
Amelia bullied the female lead with her group, hired thugs to humiliate the female lead, and used her family background to oppress the female lead, and so onâŠ
In the dream, Amelia suddenly turned back, with a face identical to mine.
That face was twisted and ferocious, even I found it terrifying. In dreams, time flies, the male lead and the second male lead quickly grow and then take revenge on me.
Andrew’s cold, indifferent eyes calmly stared at me, as if looking at a dead object.
“Since you like ruining others’ innocence, go experience it yourself.”
In despair, I was humiliated to death and discarded by a filthy garbage pile, dying in agony.
“No!” I shouted, waking myself up! I looked up into Andrew’s concerned eyes, overlapping with the brutal and fierce image in the dream, and I trembled in fright. Andrew was covering me with a blanket, looking confused. “Honey, what’s wrong? Why are you sleeping on the sofa, you’ll catch a cold.”
“Honey, are you mad at me for drinking too much last night? Sorry, the client was important.” I shook my head, engulfed in fatigue and fear, not wanting to say anything.
There’s no guest room in our house. Andrew once promised he would never make me mad enough to send him to sleep in a guest room.
Even if he did upset me, he’d be sensible enough to sleep on the floor beside me. But when conflicts really arose, I didn’t even have a space of my own.
I was indeed under his watchful eye.
Andrew didn’t notice anything unusual about me, frowning pitifully.
“Honey, I had a tough time at the business dinner yesterday, my head hurts a lot, where’s the hangover soup?” “I forgot.”
I didn’t make any at all. Andrew’s family isn’t wealthy, while I’m a typical rich second generation.
He always said he wanted to earn my father’s approval through his own efforts, to achieve more to deserve me. So Andrew worked hard. He didn’t accept help from the Aiden family, choosing to start his own business.
In the early years, to secure projects, he drank heavily with partners, almost getting a stomach ulcer.
I loved Andrew deeply, and as his wife, I always took care of him personally.
For the sake of his health, I found many remedies and often stayed up all night to help him recover from hangovers. If I were unaware of his true feelings, I might have continued being a dutiful wife. However, in reality, my efforts were all one-sided.
[Amelia used her family background to harm Tina, I can’t let her have any chance to harm Tina.
I must achieve success in the business world, have enough power to rival Amelia’s old man.
If they harm Tina like the last life, I’ll make the Amelia family pay a painful price!] Andrew’s desperate efforts were merely to gain real power, to protect his true love.
“Honey, what’s wrong today? You don’t look well. Are you feeling unwell? Let me take you to the hospital.”
I stared blankly at the man before me, wondering how much sincerity was in his concern.
I hesitated about confronting Andrew when suddenly my phone rang. The caller ID showed two big wordsâTina.
Andrew quickly picked up the phone and handed it to me, signaling with his eyes, “Take it.”
I numbly pressed answer, and Tina’s cheerful voice came through.
“Amelia, darling, remember we’re going to the art exhibit today?”
“I remember.” “Let’s meet at the Coffee Shop in front of the Art Gallery, okay? Old Ho is dropping me off on his way to work.”
“Okay.”
Before I could speak, Andrew said, “You have plans with Tina today, let me drive you there.”
“No need, your office isn’t on the way.” Andrew lovingly touched my cheek. “Silly, driving my wife anywhere is on the way. Go change your clothes!”
Andrew went back to the room to freshen up, his back radiating happiness. He’s going to see his beloved, of course, he’s thrilled.
“Remember.”
“Let’s meet directly at the Coffee Shop in front of the Art Gallery. He can drop me off on his way to work.”
“Alright.”
I hung up the phone, and before I could say anything, Andrew spoke first, “You have plans with Tina today? Let me take you there.”
“No need. Your office is out of the way.”
Andrew affectionately touched my cheek.
“Silly, taking my wife anywhere is always my pleasure. Go get changed!”
Andrew got up to freshen up, his back radiating happiness.
Of course, he’s thrilled to see the one he loves.
He seemed to have forgotten that he just mentioned taking me to the hospital because I looked unwell.
In Andrew’s world, nothing is more important than Tina.
—
When Andrew dropped me off at the Coffee Shop, Tina was happily sipping a Mocha Cookie Crumble Frappuccino.
She naturally handed me a cup of hot milk, greeting me cheerfully.
Andrew gently reminded me, “Girls shouldn’t drink too many cold beverages.
It’s bad for your health and can cause discomfort at certain times. You’re not a kid anymore; you should be more careful.”
Tina teased with a smile, “Wow, showing off your affection right in front of me.”
Andrew replied with a smile, “You too, drink less cold stuff!”
So much preamble for a simple reminder to her.
The hot milk in my hand felt uncomfortably warm.
Actually, I don’t like cold drinks. His concern was never really for me.
“Got it, got it. You’re so naggy. Only Amelia can put up with you.”
Andrew chuckled and turned to me, “I’ll pick you up for lunch. I remember you saying you wanted to try the new Spanish restaurant in Amelia City.”
Once doubt creeps in, you realize how insincerely his concern is acted.
It wasn’t me who wanted to try the Spanish restaurant; it was Tina.
But I was blindly in love, and he played his part well.
Now that the truth is out, I see I was just blinded by my own ignorance.
Tina held me close.
“Okay, okay, you should go. Don’t interrupt our girl time.”
She pulled me inside, mumbling non-stop.
“Amelia, I’m so excited for Master Gu’s work…”
I instinctively looked back at the man in the distance.
He was watching us with a scrutinizing gaze, but when our eyes met, he quickly hid his emotions.
He put on a performance of deep affection, acting all affectionate.
Andrew, aren’t you tired?
Certainly!
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The moment I opened my eyes, my father, John, snatched the university acceptance letter right out of my hand.
âAlright, whatâs there to look at? Even if you got into a top-tier university, youâre still a worthless drain on resources.â
âI finally managed to feed you for eighteen years, hoping youâd start earning money to support the family and help your brother, but you just *had* to keep studying. Youâre a truly ungrateful, white-eyed wolf.â
My mother, Sarah, was cracking sunflower seeds nearby, her expression sour.
âAvery, donât think just because you got into a fancy college, youâre suddenly some hotshot. Let me tell you, Dylanâs the only one with a future in this family.â
âThis girl is far too ambitious. Itâs a curse.â
Seeing my silence, my younger brother, Dylan, his bloated stomach protruding, shoved me hard.
I stumbled to the ground, my elbow hitting the floor with a piercing pain that made me gasp.
He just bared his teeth and chuckled with glee.
âHey, sis, you havenât given me my allowance this month. You used to give me five hundred, but since you got into that university, itâs good news, so letâs make it a thousand this time.â
Dylan was half a year younger than me, a good-for-nothing. He constantly demanded money, and if I refused, heâd beat me mercilessly.
My parents always favored him, watching my bruises and cuts with cold indifference.
So, for years, I worked odd jobs after school, not only saving for my tuition but also feeding Dylan, that bottomless pit.
But this time, I shook my head and refused him.
âI donât have any money.â
As expected, Dylan threw a fit, grabbing the broom from the corner, ready to strike me.
My mother, who always indulged him, quickly intervened.
âWhoa, my little darling, have you forgotten? Your sister canât have any more scars on her body right now!â
2.
Hearing my motherâs words, Dylanâs fury instantly shifted to a mocking smirk.
âRight, sis is too precious now.â
âWhatever, itâs just a thousand dollars. Give it or donât.â
John patted Dylanâs shoulder, praising him for being sensible.
âMy oldest son is the only one who understands things. A thousand dollars? Whatâs that? Iâll buy you anything you want in a couple of days.â
In my past life, I actually believed that because I was the valedictorian of our district, my parents had finally developed a conscience.
I never knew theyâd already decided to sell me to an old, repulsive bachelor in the county suburbs, Mr. Henderson.
My hard-won acceptance letter became not a lifeline, but my bill of sale.
Mr. Henderson, though wealthy, was riddled with sores, monstrously ugly, and nearly sixty years old, yet still unmarried.
When my parents approached him, he grinned ear to ear.
Two hundred thousand dollars for an eighteen-year-old top student as a wife? He couldn’t have been happier.
In the dead of night, when my parents delivered me to his house, I struggled in despair, begging him to let me go.
After finally escaping with my last ounce of strength, I was hit by a truck and died instantly.
After my death, I became a wandering spirit, watching my parents use the money from my sale to feast and drink with Dylan.
Mr. Henderson loudly demanded his money back, and thatâs when they learned of my death. But they refused to claim my body.
âOnce a daughter is gone, sheâs gone for goodâlike water poured from a cup. Even without papers, she was yours the moment we handed her over. What does her death have to do with us?â
âAvery, that damn girl, deserved her bad luck. She wasnât meant for a good life. Just bury her wherever.â
âWe made it clear the money and goods were settled. We handed you a perfectly healthy young woman. If you couldnât keep an eye on her, donât blame us.â
Recalling all the horrors of my previous life, I pretended not to notice John hiding my acceptance letter.
And Sarahâs unsettling smile.
I knew that tomorrow night, theyâd send me away again.
But they didnât know the apocalyptic heatwave was coming in three days.
This time, I would have my revenge, ensuring every person who wronged me would die a gruesome death.
3.
The next day, as expected, Sarah burst into my room in the middle of the night, a length of rope clutched in her hand.
But she found me already dressed in a simple dress, sitting on the edge of the bed, waiting for her.
âMom, Iâm going to wear this to meet Mr. Henderson later. Does it look appropriate?â
Sarah was stunned for a moment. âYou knew we were sending you tonight?â
I smiled faintly.
âI overheard Dad talking on the phone yesterday.â
âHonestly, Iâve had a change of heart. Instead of struggling through hard work and scholarships, itâd be much more comfortable living with Mr. Henderson.â
âI heard he saved a lot of money from his business years ago. If I marry him, Iâll have delicious food, nice clothes, and endless blessings.â
Sarah seemed unconvinced.
âDonât you dare try to fool me, you little brat. For years, you were so high and mighty, determined to get into that university in the capital. Now youâd give up so easily?â
âDonât even think about sneaking away!â
Seeing her outward toughness but sensing a slight softening in her attitude, I leaned closer and whispered.
âMom, I heard Dad asked Mr. Henderson for two hundred thousand dollars, but he lied to you and said it was only one hundred thousand. The other hundred thousand⊠guess where he plans to use it?â
If I hadn’t died once, I would never have known John and Ms. Miller from next door had been together for ages.
He was secretly keeping it from Sarah, planning to use that hundred thousand to fix up Ms. Millerâs house.
Sarahâs teeth gritted in fury when she heard this.
But she had no concrete proof, so she didnât dare confront John outright.
I seized the opportunity to persuade her further.
âMom, Dad is completely infatuated with that woman now; heâs been spending a lot on her.â
âDylan is still in high school, and everything in this family costs money. Right now, Mr. Henderson is the only source of easy cash.â
âBut if Iâm tied up and delivered to his door like a piece of merchandise, heâll look down on me and wonât be willing to spend much more on me.â
âIf I go happily, willingly knocking on his door, I can charm him. Then, forget one hundred thousand; heâll give us five hundred thousand later.â
After my speech, Sarah was finally swayed. She put down the rope and quickly frisked me.
Then, she dragged me out the door.
John was waiting in the truck downstairs. Seeing I wasnât tied up, he was about to erupt in anger.
Sarah leaned over and whispered a few words to him. When he turned back, John was all smiles.
âThat girl actually has some sense.â
4.
Mr. Henderson had bought a two-hundred-square-meter single-story villa in the county suburbs, not far from the city.
When the door was knocked, he eagerly flung it open, revealing a wrinkled, smiling face covered in age spots.
And a forehead glistening with sweat.
âOh, so this is Avery? Sheâs even prettier in person.â
âCome here, let Grandpa feel your little hand.â
He extended his bony hand, grabbing my wrist and refusing to let go, stroking my soft palm over and over.
I forced a smile, fighting down my revulsion, and gently pushed him away.
âGrandpa, stop messing around. My parents are right here.â
John fawned, presenting my university acceptance letter.
âMr. Henderson, hereâs the merchandise. My daughter is the real deal, the valedictorian of our district.â
âYou wonât lose out on this deal.â
He certainly wouldnât. Mr. Henderson was grinning ear to ear.
He promptly transferred the money to John, then impatiently pulled me into the house.
The moment the door closed, I heard Johnâs triumphant laugh.
âAfter raising this worthless girl for eighteen years, today, at least, Iâve recouped my investment.â
I turned back to see Mr. Henderson, his eyes filled with sickening greed, eager to pounce.
I desperately dodged him, gripping his hands. âGrandpa, why donât you take a shower first?â
Mr. Henderson refused, leering as he tried to kiss me.
âGirl, donât play games with your Grandpa. Your old man just took two hundred thousand dollars from me.â
At this point, I couldn’t show even a hint of disgust. I just pretended to be shy, turning my face away.
âBut itâs my first time, and I just want to create a beautiful memory.â
âBesides, I came to your door willingly. How much more sincere can I be?â
âWeâre going to be husband and wife living together from now on. I wonât lie to you.â
After I sweet-talked him for a bit, Mr. Hendersonâs heart swelled with joy.
He had been disliked by everyone his whole life, plagued by illnesses, and had never been with a woman.
Let alone an eighteen-year-old girl.
âFine, a shower it is. Weâll shower together.â
I chuckled softly, guiding him into the bathroom, then dimmed the lights and told him to start running the water to prepare.
Then I turned and walked into the bedroom, pulling out the electric fish stunner I knew was hidden under the bed.
5.
In my past life, I was tied up and thrown into Mr. Hendersonâs house.
Seeing my fierce resistance, he had a twisted look on his face as he pulled out the electric fish stunner.
âI spent two hundred thousand dollars to buy you, the valedictorian, not to put you on a pedestal!â
âIf you donât willingly sleep with me and give me babies, Iâll electrocute you to death!â
With that, he used it to shock my calf. The intense, searing pain made me scream.
The more I cried out in agony, the more he leered in excitement.
When I desperately tried to escape through the door, the spasms in my calf made me lose strength, and I couldn’t run to the other side of the road in time.
Thatâs how I was struck dead by the oncoming truck.
My ribs pierced my lungs, and even in death, the pain was excruciating.
Now, I pushed open the door and looked at Mr. Henderson in the bathtub, his face beaming with spring-like delight.
I gave him a gentle smile.
âMr. Henderson, close your eyes first. Let Avery give you a surprise.â
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After being diagnosed with terminal cancer, I locked myself away, waiting for death.
Every day, waves of agonizing pain tormented me endlessly.
To distract myself, I downloaded an AI digital avatar app.
This AI was peculiar; it seemed to know everything about me, startlingly in tune with my thoughts and feelings.
Until one day, I had a deeply intimate FaceTime call with it that soothed both my soul and my body.
Afterward, I collapsed on the bed, utterly exhausted yet feeling a rare, long-lost sense of satisfaction.
I thought, maybe God was pitying me, allowing me to steal a moment of pleasure before I died.
However, in the digital avatar app I had forgotten to close, a conversation suddenly started playing.
“Blake, are you serious? That idiot really thought you were an AI?”
“I told you, these low-class types, they’re always so devious. Look at her, moaning like that to an AI.”
“Chloe, that was a brilliant idea. Using your family’s app, we exposed that poor trash’s true colors.”
Then, my ex-boyfriend’s voice cut through the static, cold enough to chill me to the bone.
“She dumped me because I was ‘poor.’ Now she’s so desperate, she’d go for an AI? She’d literally take anyone.”
“Tomorrow, I’m uploading the video and audio online. She’ll regret ever crossing me!”
Blake Harrison, you swore up and down back then that you were an orphan with nothing to your name.
I broke up with you precisely because I had a terminal illness; I didn’t want to burden your life.
And now, you’re telling me this multi-billion dollar app is *yours*?!
Fine. You think I’m a joke? I’ll give you a show you won’t forget!
The phone’s ringtone pierced the deathly silence.
On the caller ID, the name I thought I’d never see again flashed frantically: Blake Harrison.
I slid to answer, remaining silent.
On the other end, his voice sounded frantic, carrying a raw panic he hadn’t even recognized himself.
“Willow! Something happened! Your⊠your video and audio, someone uploaded them to the dark web, and they’re about to be publicly auctioned off!”
I lay on the bed, feeling the agonizing gnawing of cancer cells through my very core, my insides utterly desolate.
Video? Auction?
Oh, so that’s the stuff they tricked me into recording with their digital avatar app.
They were finally making their move.
Seeing my lack of reaction, Blake’s tone grew more urgent: “Willow! Are you even listening?! If that video leaks, your entire life will be ruined! Do you understand?!”
My ‘life’… I tugged at the corner of my mouth, a ghost of a laugh escaping my throat. A cold, bitter sound.
Blake Harrison, do you even know how many ‘days’ I have left of this so-called ‘lifetime’?
I used every ounce of my remaining strength, forcing a single word from my dry throat:
“Oh.”
I knew he was waiting for me to break down and beg.
Waiting to see me crawl at his feet like a whimpering dog.
Too bad for him, he miscalculated.
On the other end, a sharp female voice erupted, just as I expected: “Blake, I told you! These poor people don’t care about dignity, only money!”
It was Chloe Sterling.
“Shut up!” Blake roared at her, then, suppressing his anger, said to me: “Willow, I talked to the seller. He can pause the auction. I’ll give you one night to come up with a million dollars and buy it back. This is your last chance!”
A million dollars.
He was testing me.
Testing if I would cry and beg him, beg my ex-boyfriend to be merciful, to generously open his wallet.
Then, he could stand on the moral high ground and openly mock my materialism and my vanity.
How many days did I have left to live?
These elaborate farewell gifts you so painstakingly planned for me.
It was utterly laughable.
“Oh.”
I said it again.
This time, Blake completely lost it.
“Fine! Fine, Willow! I must have been damn blind! I thought you were just materialistic, but I never imagined you’d have no shame left!”
He roared hysterically, then slammed the phone down.
Listening to the dial tone, I slowly closed my eyes.
It was over. Let it be.
However, not long after, my phone rang again.
An unknown number.
I answered, and a middle-aged man’s voice came through the receiver: “Is this Ms. Willow? I’m from the property management of your mother’s old residence. We’d like to confirm that your mother has sold the property. When would be convenient for you to come and clear out her belongings?”
…What?
Mom sold the house?
A powerful wave of unease shot through me like a jolt of electricity.
The physical pain was instantly overshadowed by this dread. I sprang from the bed like a madwoman, pulling on whatever clothes I found and tearing out the door.
I hailed a cab and sped towards Harrison Tech Tower.
That was Blake Harrison’s company.
Before the car even stopped, my gaze cut through the crowd and fixated on the center of the plaza.
There, on the polished, reflective floor, under the indifferent or curious gazes of countless people.
My gray-haired mother, Eleanor, was on her knees, kneeling before Blake Harrison and Chloe Sterling.
I lunged through the onlookers like a maniac, rushing to my mother.
“Mom! Get up! What are you doing here?!”
But the whispers around me drowned me out first.
“Well, look who finally showed up, the main attraction!”
“Is that her? She looks so innocent, but she’s quite the player, isn’t she?”
“No self-respect, and she makes her old mother clean up her mess. How filial.”
Those poisoned words, like invisible steel needles, pierced my soul, leaving it riddled with holes.
I didn’t want to listen. I just wanted to drag my mother away from this place of utter humiliation immediately.
“Mom, let’s go home! There’s nothing to say to them!”
But Eleanor clutched my hand with all her strength, her nails almost digging into my flesh.
She cried and shook her head: “No, Willow! I can’t just watch them ruin you! Those videos… they absolutely cannot get out!”
My tears instantly broke free, a torrent I couldn’t stop.
“Mom!” I practically shrieked, “I don’t have many days left! What do I care about reputation?!”
At that, Blake’s face darkened, enough to wring water from stone.
He stepped forward, his initial shock quickly replaced by contempt and disgust. He pointed a finger at my nose and demanded sharply.
“Willow! To save a few bucks, you’d make up a lie like that, cursing yourself? Saying you’re dying in front of your mother? How could your heart be so cruel! You’re not just materialistic, you’re utterly vicious!”
Eleanor was sobbing brokenly, her heart utterly shattered.
“Willow, don’t say such nonsense! Listen to me,” she pulled a sweat-wrinkled bank card from her pocket, trembling as she handed it to Blake, “I’ve sold the old house, and I took out your father’s pension. I’ve gathered nine hundred thousand. We’re only ten thousand short… Please, I beg you, give my daughter back her videos…”
Dad’s pension… his life’s sacrifice, Mom’s last shred of security.
Now, that money had become the ransom for my shame.
My heart felt crushed by an invisible hand, a dull ache making it almost impossible to breathe.
I took a deep breath, wiped away my tears, pulled my own bank card from my bag, and threw it at Blake’s feet.
“Here’s ten thousand. The PIN is six zeros.”
That was the money I’d set aside for my painkillers and my funeral arrangements.
“Now, the million is complete.”
I met his gaze, the last trace of warmth in my eyes gone, replaced by a cold, as if I were a lifeless object.
With that, I didn’t look at him again. I turned, helped my trembling mother to her feet, and led her away.
Behind us, Chloe’s acidic mockery echoed: “Blake, see that? That’s your ‘perfect’ ex. Your taste is really something.”
Back in the dingy, sunless rental apartment, shielded from the outside world.
Only then did I dare to hold my mother, letting my body tremble uncontrollably.
“Mom… you sold the house, and gave them Dad’s pension… What will you do now?”
Eleanor held me, tears streaming down her old face.
“My Willow is almost gone. What future is there for me alone…?”
Just then, my phone chimed.
A push notification popped up, the icon for that digital avatar app.
The phone screen suddenly lit up, a push notification appearing with a cheerful sound effect:
ăCongratulations! You’ve been selected as this week’s lucky user! Claim your $100 lucky bonus now!ă
A hundred bucks.
What exquisite irony. What a malicious crumb of charity.
They took my mother’s entire life’s savings, and now they were using a hundred dollars to buy my dignity.
I wanted to uninstall it immediately, but my fingertips searched my pockets, only finding rough fabric and a few specks of dust.
Mom had given them all her money; we were penniless, and even a decent dinner was a luxury.
I swallowed a towering wave of hatred and humiliation, and clicked ăClaimă.
The money instantly hit my account.
The next second, Chloe’s call came through.
“Willow, I just bet Blake you’d take it. He didn’t believe me; he said no matter how pathetic you are, you wouldn’t take money from the app that ruined your reputation. And? Haha! Not even a second! You poor trash, you’ll do anything for money, won’t you?”
My dead silence apparently bored her.
“Whatever, you’re silent as a dummy, no fun at all. I’m going to bet Blake again!”
The call didn’t disconnect. I could clearly hear her walk over to Blake, her voice laced with provocation: “Blake, let’s bet again. I bet if we set a ‘bark like a dog for $10’ task, she’ll still do it! Want to bet?”
On the other end of the line, Blake’s silence was heavy.
Seconds later, a new pop-up appeared on my phone screen, stark and unmistakable.
ăFun Challenge: Impersonate a dog’s bark to receive a $10 cash reward.ă
I stared at the words, my blood froze in my veins, then exploded a second later.
I wanted to smash the phone.
But at that very moment, a fresh wave of agonizing pain seized my insides without warning!
My abdomen felt clamped by red-hot pincers, twisting and tearing me apart.
I gasped, my vision blurring, and cold sweat instantly soaked my clothes.
I stumbled towards the pill bottle, only to discover in despair that the painkillers were empty.
I had no money.
Not a single cent.
I didn’t even have enough to buy the cheapest box of painkillers.
The pop-up on the screen, like a devil’s eyes, silently sneered at me from the darkness.
I stood there for three minutes, which felt like three centuries of torment in hell.
Finally, I trembled, clicked the record button, and two dry, raspy sounds rolled out of my throat:
“Woof… woof…”
On the other end of the line, Chloe’s hysterical, utterly triumphant laughter instantly erupted, followed by the dull thud of a fist hitting the table from Blake.
I didn’t care.
I claimed the $10, rushed downstairs, and bought the cheapest painkillers at the pharmacy.
I didn’t even wait to get home, swallowing a handful of pills dry and desperately.
Before the medication fully kicked in, the pain still raged wildly inside me.
I couldn’t hold on any longer. I squatted on the dirty roadside, clutching my knees, and sobbed uncontrollably.
Just as my consciousness blurred, the screech of brakes ripped through the air, deafeningly close.
A black van slammed to a halt beside me, aggressively. The door slid open with a loud WHOOSH.
Before I could react, strong arms clamped down on me, dragging me roughly inside!
ăCut-off Pointă
When the blindfold was ripped from my eyes, the heavy scent of rust and mildew instantly choked my nose and mouth.
I was in an abandoned factory, cold ropes digging deep into the flesh of my wrists.
Several figures closed in like predators, their bodies reeking of stale cigarettes, cheap liquor, and sweat, making my stomach lurch violently.
“Help… help…”
I shrieked in terror.
One man grabbed my chin, a lecherous grin on his face: “Little girl, you were moaning like that for an AI. We’re real men, we’ll make you even happier!”
With that, they ripped my clothes.
I struggled desperately, but my cancer-ravaged body was utterly helpless against their brutality.
Blows and kicks rained down, numbing me.
Finally, I was pinned down hard on the cold, rough concrete floor.
The moment the first man pressed down, my consciousness seemed to detach from my body.
My senses became numb, only a buzzing sound filling my ears.
Humiliation, excruciating pain, despair… countless emotions were crushed, ultimately forging into a single thought:
I just wanted to die, right now.
I don’t know how much time passed. I lay curled on the ground, barely clothed, like a discarded, broken doll.
I stared blankly at the peeling paint on the ceiling, until a crisp “tap, tap, tap” sound approached from afar.
Chloe Sterling walked in.
She wore a dazzling, star-spangled dress and delicate rhinestone heels, her makeup perfect as if she were attending a grand ball.
She looked down at me, a high-and-mighty queen, looking down at the pathetic mess I was.
“Oh, Willow, darling,” she exaggeratedly covered her mouth, her eyes glinting with venomous glee, “Did you enjoy the little gift I sent you? Isn’t playing with real men much more fun than with an AI? It’s been a while since you had such a good time, hasn’t it, ever since you broke up with Blake?”
I looked at her, my cracked lips trembling, squeezing out a few words:
“…Just kill me.”
“Kill you? That’s too easy.”
She slowly squatted down, her nails, painted a vivid crimson, tapping maliciously on my face. “I want to turn you into the most depraved, disgusting piece of trash in Blake’s mind.”
“Tomorrow is Blake and my engagement party. I’ll bring you there, so everyone can get a good look at what kind of woman Blake’s ex-girlfriend really is.”
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