Author: Momo Chan

Love Misguided, A Broken Mirror Beyond Repair Brief My pregnant wife ignored my protests and went on an overseas trip with her high school sweetheart. She posted on Facebook, “Logan, even if we can’t be together as husband and wife, I’ll still give birth to your child.” The picture? The two of them were holding hands and snuggled up together. I commented under the post, “If you’re this in love, isn’t it time to divorce me and be with him instead?” …… Content After posting my comment, I didn’t waste any time. I contacted the Postpartum Care Center, where I’d previously booked and canceled the reservation. I also called Summit Ridge Women’s Clinic and canceled the appointments I had set up there. For the countless baby supplies I’d bought in advance, I either returned what I could or gave away the rest. When I was done, I let out a long breath of relief. I called up a few close friends and invited them out for drinks. I needed the distraction. We were laughing and enjoying ourselves when my phone buzzed. I glanced at the screen, and my smile disappeared. It was Maddie Harper. The room grew quiet as my friends noticed my shift in mood. One suggested, “Milton, is that Maddie calling? Maybe you should head home before she gets upset. ” “Yeah, we can call it a night here,” chimed another. They meant well. Since marrying Maddie, I haven’t spent much time with my friends. Whenever I did, Maddie would call them my “useless drinking buddies” and blame them for anything that went wrong. Everyone knew how overbearing she could be. But I hit the decline button right before them and forced a smile onto my face. “Forget about her. Let’s keep going.” “Milton, maybe you should—” Dex started, concern in his voice. I cut him off, “I know you’re all looking out for me, but I’ll tell you this now: once Maddie returns, I’m divorcing her. She’s not going to be your sister-in-law anymore.” The group fell silent, exchanging uneasy glances but not saying another word. My phone buzzed again. After hesitating, I answered this time. Maddie’s sharp voice came through on the other end of the line, furious. “Milton Vaughn! Who do you think you are ignoring my calls? If this happens again, you’ll sleep on the couch for a month!” I stayed silent as she launched into another tirade. “Tell me this, Milton,” she demanded. “Why did you cancel the Postpartum Care Center? If they hadn’t called me, I’d still be in the dark! Are you even planning to be this baby’s father? If you’re not, don’t worry—plenty of men love to step up. The line of guys wanting to date me back in the day could’ve stretched to France!” When Maddie first got pregnant, I’d treated her like a queen. Whatever she asked for, I made it happen. I booked the best Postpartum Care Center in Napa Valley for $10,000 a month without a second thought. I loved her. I wanted her to feel cherished. But she used my devotion as a license to trample all over me. “Hey, are you listening?” Her shrill voice pulled me from my thoughts. “Yeah, I’m listening. What’s the problem?” I asked calmly. “The problem is, you’re going to fix this,” she snapped. “Rebook the Care Center. And send me another $10,000. Logan and I want to stay here for a couple more days.” Her words made me laugh out loud. “Maddie, have you lost your damn mind?”

The moment those words left my mouth, Maddie’s fury erupted. “Milton Vaughn, what did you just say? Repeat it, I dare you! Do you want me to divorce you?” This wasn’t the first time she’d used divorce as a threat. It was her go-to move, no matter how small the argument. In the past, I always caved. I’d apologize, take the blame, and do whatever it took to smooth things. I thought that if I compromised enough, we’d eventually find happiness. But things never worked out that way. I took a deep breath, lifted my drink, and said calmly, “Alright. Let’s get divorced.” Then I hung up and turned off my phone. My friends stared at me, stunned. “Why are you all frozen? Let’s toast—to my freedom!” That broke the tension. Laughter filled the room as they raised their glasses with me. The drinks flowed, and I felt truly happy for the first time in years. Back at home, I collapsed into bed, the buzz of alcohol and freedom making me smile. For years, my life revolved around Maddie’s demands. She controlled everything, and I let her. I gave up smoking and drinking for her. I handed over my entire paycheck every month. I cooked, cleaned, and ran our household so she could play “princess.” But somewhere along the way, she forgot she wasn’t royalty. When I woke up the following day, loud banging echoed through the apartment. At first, I thought someone was renovating. But as the sound continued, I realized someone was at my door. I didn’t need to guess who. I took my time, pouring a glass of water as the voices outside grew louder. “Milton Vaughn, open this door right now!” Dolly Carter’s sharp tone cut through the noise. “How dare you cancel the Postpartum Care Center and the hospital appointments? Are you even human?” Her voice grated on my nerves, but I was used to it. Whenever Maddie and I had even the slightest fight, her parents would rush over to scold me. When I finally opened the door, I was greeted by their furious faces. Without waiting for an invitation, they pushed past me into the apartment. “You better fix this immediately!” Dolly demanded. “Maddie’s coming home tonight, and everything needs to be in place.” “Is she bringing Logan Reese back with her?” I asked coolly. “What are you implying? Maddie’s coming back alone. Stop spreading nonsense!” Dolly shot back defensively. “Oh, and I heard you got a $15,000 bonus at work,” Walt added. “When’s Maddie getting that?” I let out a small laugh, shaking my head. It was going to be a long day.

I chuckled to myself. My father-in-law, Walt Carter, sure had his ear to the ground—he even knew about the bonus I’d received from my latest project. “So, when are you giving that money to my daughter?” Dolly, my mother-in-law, chimed in, her tone dripping with entitlement. “You must have misunderstood,” I replied flatly. “I’m filing for divorce from Maddie.” “Divorce?!” Dolly’s face twisted in shock. “Your darling daughter announced on Facebook that the baby she’s carrying belongs to her high school sweetheart, Logan. Whoever the father is, let him handle the hospital bills and the Postpartum Care Center,” I said, my tone cold. “You’re talking nonsense! That baby is yours!” Walt snapped, his voice rising in anger. Dolly, of course, doubled down. “Even if the baby isn’t yours, so what? You’re the one who married Maddie. If you truly love her, you should accept everything about her!” “And besides,” she added, crossing her arms, “that baby will take your last name anyway. So what exactly is your problem?” Listening to their absurd arguments, I realized trying to reason with them wastes time. I grabbed my car keys and left the house, ignoring their shouts as they trailed behind me. When they caught up in the driveway, I sighed and told them what they wanted to hear: “I’m going to sort out the Postpartum Care Center now.” That finally got them to back off. “You’d better,” Dolly said smugly. “After all, Maddie’s been carrying this baby for nine months. You can’t drop the ball now.” I didn’t bother responding and drove off. Once I was clear of the house, I called my former college classmate, Autumn Quinn, who now lived in Asheville, North Carolina. When she picked up, her voice lit up with excitement. “Milton! You finally agreed! We’ve been waiting for the perfect leader for this project, and you’re it. The salary and benefits package we can offer you is top-notch!” Autumn had been trying to recruit me for months, but I’d always turned her down. I’d stayed because I thought Maddie and I were happy—and because she was pregnant. But now, I had no reason to stay. “Count me in,” I said decisively. She paused, catching something in my tone. “Milton, is everything okay? Do you need help with something?” I chuckled softly. “No, nothing like that.” She didn’t push, but her excitement returned as she promised to arrange an interview. “Let me know if you need anything else,” she added warmly. “Thanks, Autumn.” We met in college when I was a junior and she was a freshman. We belonged to the same college society, and over time, we became good friends. After I got married, though, we drifted apart. With the interview set up, I turned my attention to the next step: consulting a lawyer to draft a divorce agreement. It was evening by the time everything was arranged, and I was ready to grab dinner when my phone rang again. It was Maddie. “Where the hell have you been?!” she demanded. “I’ve called you a dozen times, and you didn’t answer. I had to take a cab home, Milton—a cab! Do you know how mad that makes me?”

Maddie’s voice dripped with anger as if taking a cab home was the most significant hardship she’d ever faced. Looking back, I realized I’d spoiled her too much. She wasn’t born into wealth or privilege, but I treated her like a princess, and over time, she began to believe she was one. “Sorry,” I said calmly. “I was busy and forgot.” “Busy? What’s your excuse? You don’t care about me at all! Get your ass home and apologize right now!” “Oh, and don’t forget to transfer the $10,000. My mom said you already withdrew it,” she added. I murmured an acknowledgment and hung up without another word. When I got home, Maddie was sitting on the couch, her pregnant belly prominent. But she wasn’t alone. Sitting next to her was Logan Reese, her high school sweetheart. Across the room, Dolly and Walt sat like they owned the place. “Ah, everyone’s here,” I said, stepping inside. All eyes turned to me, but Maddie was the first to speak. “If Logan hadn’t been kind enough to bring me home, I don’t know what would’ve happened,” she said, her voice laced with accusation. “Do you even care about the baby I’m carrying?” “Logan brought the baby’s father home. Isn’t that what he’s supposed to do?” I replied evenly, looking directly at Logan. His eyes widened in shock. “What are you talking about? What do you mean ‘the baby’s father’?” I handed him a stack of invoices. “Postpartum Care Center: $10,000. Summit Ridge Women’s Clinic VIP delivery package: $8,000. Baby supplies: $5,000. Total: $23,000. You’ll need to make those payments at the hospital soon.” Everyone froze, the weight of my words sinking in. “What’s that supposed to mean, Milton?” Maddie finally asked, her voice rising. “It means I’m divorcing you. And whoever got you pregnant can handle the rest,” I said, pulling out the divorce papers I’d prepared. “Divorce?!” Maddie’s eyes blazed. “You think you can just leave me like this? If anyone’s divorcing anyone, it’s me! Logan’s better than you’ll ever be, Milton. Once we’re done, I’ll marry him.” She smiled sweetly at Logan, oblivious to the horrified expression on his face. “Maddie, are you out of your mind?!” Logan blurted out, taking a step back. “Logan, don’t be shy,” she said, still grinning. “We’ve been waiting for this. Now’s our chance to finally be together.” Even Dolly jumped in. “Logan, you’re getting a wonderful girl here. My Maddie is one of a kind!” “And the baby will have your name, of course,” Walt added. But Logan’s expression darkened. “Maddie,” he said firmly, “we were just having fun. I’m not marrying you.” Maddie’s jaw dropped. “What? You’re joking, right?” He shook his head, stepping further away. “You thought I was serious? Maddie, you’re married! And honestly, who knows who else you’ve been with?” The color drained from her face, and her parents stared in stunned silence. I watched the scene unfold, saying nothing, a cold smile tugging at the corners of my mouth.

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At the company’s celebration banquet where bonuses were being distributed. My wife and her father publicly humiliated me, calling me worthless and a burden to everyone. They even forcibly handed over my nearly-completed Oldom Royal Family project to her ex-boyfriend. Instead of getting angry, I laughed and decided to hand over my CEO position to him as well. “Why stress over these stupid drones? Here, you can be the CEO instead!” I declared. Everyone in the company thought I’d lost my mind. What they didn’t know was that I held the core algorithm for the drone swarm control system. Without me, their precious money-making drone fleet would turn into nothing but a swarm of useless metal locusts. The company would face a hundred-billion liability claim from the Oldom Royal Family, leading to overnight bankruptcy! Camila Winthrop, my wife, stood on stage, affectionately holding Oliver Taylor’s hand. “Oliver, the Winthrop Group owes its success largely to you,” she declared. “This year’s entire bonus is yours.” She handed him a check for five million dollars. Thunderous applause erupted from the audience. Camila’s father, Vincent Winthrop, nodded approvingly while our colleagues swarmed forward, playfully cheering the pair on. “With Mr. Taylor at the helm, our group’s international success is just around the corner!” “Ms. Winthrop and Mr. Winthrop really have an eye for talent. And Ms. Winthrop and Mr. Taylor? They’re more in sync than most married couples!” I stood at the edge of the crowd, watching the joyous scene unfold, my technical proposal crumpled in my clenched fist. Today was supposed to be the group’s celebration and bonus distribution. But just as I arrived at the company’s conference hall, Camila received a phone call. Apparently, there was a malfunction in the drone system that required my attention at the test flight facility. After years of marriage, I trusted her without question. Before I could even grab a bite to eat, I rushed to the facility. Under the scorching heat of nearly 104 degrees Fahrenheit, my team and I spent the entire day troubleshooting. But seeing Camila give a bonus as a whole to Oliver, an intern who’d been here less than a month, everything became crystal clear. The system malfunction was nothing but an excuse to get me out of the way. She was ready to hand over my three years of hard work, my life’s achievement, straight to her first love. Oliver pretended to notice me just then, feigning surprise. “Oh, Mr. Langley, you’ve finally arrived? We thought you might not make it, so everyone started without you. You don’t mind, do you?” His words were polite, but his eyes held a clear challenge as he deliberately waved the numbered check in my direction. Camila shot me an impatient glance. “Rylan, what’s with that look? Did you expect the chairman and everyone else to wait just for you? No wonder you dragged your feet with every project bid. You’re nothing but deadweight, holding everyone back. Since you’re here, you can hand over the Oldom project to Oliver right now. At least then, we won’t have to worry about you messing things up.” I clenched my fists at her imperious command, my heart turning to ice. The Oldom project she spoke of so casually was a massive undertaking that I, along with my team, had spent three years preparing and winning the bid for. It practically embodied my life’s work. The Crown Prince of Oldom was incredibly generous, providing a down payment of five million dollars. But to ensure the stability of thousands of drones operating simultaneously in the desert environment, I had countless sleepless nights. The endless trips to Oldom, the jet lag, the multiple stomach bleeds… I’d endured it all. Now, just as the project was entering its final phase, Camila wanted to snatch it away with a few casual words and hand it to her first love. I couldn’t help but laugh at how pathetic my dedication had been. Ten years ago, the Winthrop Group was on the brink of bankruptcy, unable to even pay their workers. Camila took over with plans for transformation, announcing her vision to develop drones. Without hesitation, I quit my cushy tech job and invested all my savings to build this dream with her from scratch. But with her background in fashion design, she couldn’t even understand basic control code, let alone handle drone development. For years, I had been the sole backbone of the company’s core technology. Every algorithm patent bore my name. Every technical challenge required my attention to solve. When we were struggling with initial funding, Vincent refused to help, looking down on me. My parents sold their house and their life savings to keep us afloat. That was what brought the Winthrop Group back from the dead. Only then did marriage with Camila become a topic of discussion. But I wasn’t to be a husband, and I was to be a “married-in husband,” taking her family name. Vincent always sneered at my humble origins. He acted like the mighty Winthrop family was doing me a huge favor by letting me marry into their family. Every time we met, he’d make snide remarks about how I was riding on his daughter’s coattails, saying a married-in husband should know his place. I didn’t care back then because I was head over heels for Camila. I was willing to sacrifice everything for her. But I never expected that after just a few business trips abroad with Oliver… He’d effortlessly steal all the credit for my work. Camila and I have been married for ten years. Yet somehow, I still rank below her ex, who treated her like dirt. And today, she finally managed to wear away the last shred of affection between us. After a long silence, I finally spoke, my voice neutral. “Fine. Do as you wish.” Oliver couldn’t hide his smug grin, though he put on a show of false modesty. “Ms. Langley, I’m just an amateur. How could I dare take over your international billion-dollar project? I heard you’ve been struggling with it for nearly three years. I just want to help out.” Camila placed her hand gently on his shoulder. “Oliver, you’re our overseas graduate! If you can’t handle this project, no one in the company can!” Vincent added with authority, “Exactly. Don’t sell yourself short. You’re better than that loser anyway.” I nearly burst out laughing. Oliver’s degree was nothing but a piece of paper. During his interview, he couldn’t even grasp basic control theory. But the Winthrop family was dead set on backing him, paying him an astronomical salary. After consoling Oliver, Camila turned to mock me. “Rylan, with your abilities, do you think you’d be where you are today without me? You’ve had it too good for too long. You’ve forgotten your place. You’re even making a fuss about handing over a project. If Oliver hadn’t put in a good word for you, Dad and I would’ve kicked you out long ago!” I laughed coldly inside. Camila seemed to have forgotten entirely how the company couldn’t even operate their drones when I solved every technical problem. Not only did I contribute patents, but I also built and trained the technical team from scratch. Now that the Winthrop family had made it big, they weren’t just ungrateful. They saw me as a burden. They kept rambling on, making me sound like the Winthrop family’s biggest disgrace. Taking a deep breath, I strode toward Oliver under Camila’s contemptuous gaze. Everyone’s eyes darted between us, probably thinking this pushover son-in-law was finally going to snap. But I just smiled calmly. I took out a CEO transfer document from my bag and tossed it at Oliver’s feet. “Managing a few thousand drones must be exhausting. Why don’t I just make you CEO instead!”

For a moment, the entire room went silent, everyone staring at me in disbelief. The Winthrop Group executives began whispering amongst themselves, assuming I must be spouting nonsense out of desperation. After all, everyone in the company knew that I had dedicated myself tirelessly for the past decade, with no expectation of reward, to achieve our current success. “Mr. Langley, you’re the company’s second-in-command! It’s just one project. Don’t throw away your future over a momentary impulse!” Hearing this, Camila seemed to think I was threatening her, and her face flushed with anger. “Rylan, have you lost your mind?” she spat. “How dare you lose your temper after just a few words of criticism? You’ve really crossed the line! Let me remind you, you’re only the nominal CEO. I’m the one who truly controls this group!” I laughed inwardly. She should be overjoyed that I was handing over the CEO position. Wouldn’t it be a dream come true for Camila to see her beloved first love rise to the top? Oliver clutched the CEO position transfer document tightly, a glint of greed flashing in his eyes. Yet, he feigned a selfless and righteous posture, saying, “Mr. Langley, are you offering me the CEO position in a moment of anger? Please don’t misunderstand. Camila was just trying to help me catch up on the schedule by lending a hand. It’s all for the sake of Winthrop Group. “Besides, how dare I replace you? You’re a veteran of the group. The CEO position is not something a newcomer like me can aspire to. Everyone knows how dedicated you’ve been to the company all these years. The CEO position rightfully belongs to you.” As he spoke, Oliver made a gesture to return the transfer document to me. But his hand remained firmly pressed against the document as if afraid I would actually take it back. Seeing his two-faced act, I smiled faintly, “Why would I be angry? You’re a highly educated overseas returnee. I’m overjoyed to have fresh blood in the group. I have complete confidence in you as CEO.” Camila gave me a suspicious look, then snorted coldly, “Oliver, since he’s offering to step down, just accept it. With your capabilities, the CEO position would be yours sooner or later anyway. There’s no question of whether you’re worthy or not. Everyone’s here, so they can all be witnesses.” As soon as she finished speaking, Oliver immediately stopped refusing and hugged the transfer document tightly, his eyes almost overflowing with greed. Watching him, I sneered inwardly. Camila, spending all her time flirting with Oliver, had no idea how technically challenging the Oldom project indeed was. I had spent an entire year tackling it, finally achieving a breakthrough in the formation control algorithm for desert environments. But they didn’t know that the core program was still on my encrypted hard drive, not yet handed over. Even if they stole it, without the basic annotations, it would take them half a year just to crack the code. Without me, how could they possibly pull off an aerial performance with tens of thousands of drones? The drone swarm they saw as a gold mine would turn into a man-eating locust swarm! Besides, Oliver probably didn’t realize that the CEO position wasn’t all sunshine and roses. Mastering the core technology also meant shouldering all the responsibility. For this Oldom project, the down payment alone was five million dollars. If the performance failed, not only would they have to pay back the full amount, but they would also face the wrath of the royal family. Not to mention the fierce competition in this industry, rivals could completely crush the company because of one wrong move. Since they considered me useless, there was no need for me to remind them kindly. The day the project failed would be the day the Winthrop family faced utter ruin. Camila seemed a bit sheepish seeing me so readily step down. With a simulated cough and a haughty tone, she said, “Alright, Rylan, you can stop standing there. You’ll need to hand over your work anyway. We’re celebrating Oliver’s success tonight. Since you’re being so understanding, you can come along.” Her condescending tone almost made me laugh. If the Oldom project succeeded, the bonus would be at least tens of millions of dollars. They cut me out of the profit-sharing, and now they think a meal will make it all okay? What a joke! The thought of dining with a weasel-like Oliver made me sick. I was about to decline when Oliver chimed in, feigning sincerity. “Oh dear, Mr. Langley wasn’t around when I booked the private room, so I forgot to reserve you a seat. It’s my fault for not being thorough. I may have sprained my ankle today, but I should still take responsibility. Please have a seat. I’ll go get a chair from outside and buy some drinks.” I knew he was deliberately playing the victim, trying to score points with the Winthrop family. As expected, Camila immediately fussed over him, her voice full of concern as she guided him to a chair. “Oliver, you’ve done more than enough for the company. Such a huge project relies entirely on you. How can we let you do these errands?” She then shot me a disgusted look. “What are you waiting for? Don’t you have any common sense after all these years at the company? Either go buy the drinks, or don’t bother coming!” Her blatant double standards made me scoff inwardly. It was Camila, always taking me for granted. Back in the company, I worked day and night but was never included in any team dinners. Now they act like they’re doing me a favor. Oliver, pushing his luck, said with a smug grin, “Mr. Langley, I’m so sorry to trouble you. I’ll make sure to toast you properly later…” Before he could finish, I let out a cold laugh and kicked the leather executive chair right out from under him.

In the next instant, Oliver frantically dodged, only to trip over a chair. He crashed headfirst into the million-dollar holographic projector. The sound of shattering glass pierced the air. I watched him scramble to his feet, blood trickling down his forehead, and couldn’t help but sneer. “What, did the star student’s foot miraculously heal? That agility is quite something. Were you a tap dancer in a past life?” Camila froze as if doused with a bucket of ice water. Then, she rushed to Oliver’s side, her face filled with concern as she turned to me, roaring, “Rylan, have you lost your damn mind? What about the Oldom project if Oliver gets a head injury? I finally understand what’s going on with you today! You just can’t stand seeing Oliver be better than you, so you’re deliberately trying to sabotage this project, aren’t you?” I scoffed, my face full of disdain, “Jealous of an idiot? Please.” “And…” I continued, “I’ve already resigned. So don’t pull that bossy attitude with me. I’m done playing your games!” Camila trembled with rage, her eyes red-rimmed, about to retort. I strode out of the conference room without looking back. The sounds of the commotion and Vincent’s furious shouts faded behind me. I gathered my belongings from my office, my gaze lingering on the velvet gift box on my desk. I was lost in thought. It was a custom-made bracelet I had ordered from abroad. Originally intended as an anniversary gift for Camila. How ironic it seemed now. Staring at the bracelet, I couldn’t help but fall into a trance. Back in college, Camila was my goddess. I knew I was just an ordinary guy, not worthy of a high-class heiress like her. So I just silently adored her, running errands, buying her lunch, and even doing her homework. And, of course, she took me for granted, treating me like a spare tire. One day, I found a silver bracelet she had lost and tried to return it. But she threw it into a dirty ditch and told me to “step up” and be her boyfriend. Everyone said she was just lashing out because her first love had dumped her, taking revenge on me. But I refused to believe it. I doubled down on being good to her, convinced that one day, my love would win her over. Like a loyal puppy, I revolved around her 24/7. I showered her with gifts, always coming up with new surprises. Even after ten years of marriage, nothing changed. Our anniversary was always marked in my calendar, even though Camila never remembered it, let alone celebrated it. I knew she was never truly passionate about me, but I always believed she loved me in her way. Maybe this was just how she expressed love. So, I willingly accepted being a powerless CEO at the company and a live-in husband to the Winthrop family. I thought our life would continue to be happy and fulfilling. But I underestimated the power of her first love. It wasn’t until I saw her attitude towards Oliver, the unconcealed love in her eyes, that I realized my ten years of devotion were nothing but self-deception. Perhaps Oliver had held a place in Camila’s heart all along. And I was nothing more than a dispensable substitute. Just as I was about to throw away the gift, I bumped into Camila and her entourage returning to the office. “Well, well, Rylan, weren’t you quite the tough guy earlier?” she sneered. “Can’t you be a bit less petty and resort to such low tactics?” Camila stood in the doorway, arm in arm, with Oliver, a group of executives trailing behind them. I sneered inwardly, “Huh, this shameless pair really doesn’t bother hiding it.” Oliver gently tugged Camila’s sleeve and said with feigned concern, “Camila, Mr. Langley must want to apologize to you. Look at the bracelet in his hand. He probably prepared it specifically to beg for your forgiveness!” Camila paused, then scoffed, “Hah! Does he think he can win me over with a cheap bracelet? If Oliver hadn’t stopped me, I would have called security ages ago…” As she spoke, she reached out to grab the bracelet from my hand. I frowned and, acting preemptively, tossed the bracelet straight into the trash can. “You’re sick,” I said. “Even garbage is appealing to you. You should get that delusional disorder of yours treated.”

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My husband and I got married not too long ago, and right after, his parents started traveling extensively. Over the past two years, they’ve practically toured the entire country, spending their entire retirement pension each month. I’ve often suggested to my husband that he should encourage them to save some money for their future. However, he always responds with frustration, “Are you planning to live off my parents? Why do you keep worrying about their finances? As their children, it’s our responsibility to support them in their old age—otherwise, what’s the point of having children?” Despite my genuine concern for them, I was misunderstood. So, I stopped bringing it up. I thought it was fine as long as they didn’t impose financial burdens on us. But I was too naive. With their spending habits, how could their pension be sufficient? In the living room, my aunt placed a box of candies on the table and got straight to the point, “Charlie, your cousin is getting married this July, and I was wondering when your mom plans to return the seventy thousand she borrowed from me last year.” My husband and I were taken aback, filled with questions. He quickly asked, surprised, “Aunt, did my mom borrow money from you? I wasn’t aware.” My aunt waved her hand and explained, “Your mom asked me not to tell you when she borrowed money, saying she was short on cash and needed a few tens of thousands. It wasn’t just me; your uncle and another aunt also lent her money. I wouldn’t have pressed for repayment, but with your cousin’s wedding coming up, I need the money back. When I called your mom, she said she didn’t have it and told me to ask you.” My heart sank, and my expression turned grim. My in-laws receive a combined nine thousand in retirement pension monthly. It’s one thing to spend it all, but borrowing money as well? My husband sighed deeply, his face darkening, “Aunt, give me your bank account details. I’ll find a way to gather the money and transfer it to you in the next couple of days.” “Alright, I’ll send you the account info when I get home. I’ll be on my way now.” My aunt left smiling, relieved that my husband agreed to repay the money. I struggled to keep my anger in check as I awkwardly saw her out. Once the door closed, I was so upset that I clutched my churning stomach in distress. “Husband, what’s going on with your parents? How is their pension not enough, and why are they borrowing from everywhere? I told you they should be more frugal. Look at what’s happening now.” His expression was equally troubled, and he said irritably, “Alright, enough nagging. I’ll ask them later.” Annoyed, he pulled out a pack of cigarettes and started smoking, then called his parents to come over. When it comes to his parents, my husband doesn’t let me say a word. Frustrated, I left to take care of our child. My in-laws have been self-centered their entire lives, never considering their children. When my husband and I got married, my family asked for a bride price of fifty thousand, which my husband saved from working. His parents didn’t contribute a cent, not even for the wedding expenses. They acted like hands-off managers. Later, when we bought a house, my husband put in all his savings and borrowed a bit from friends, managing to gather two hundred thousand. My parents also contributed two hundred thousand to help us. Initially, I thought of asking my mother-in-law for some help, which would ease our loan pressure. But she dismissed me, saying she had no money and that “no one should think about her retirement savings.” And now, this… I suddenly felt extremely stressed about our future. “Quick, Alex, make me some food; I’m starving,” my mother-in-law’s voice came from outside. As soon as I came out, she bossily asked me to make her food. I didn’t agree. My husband made tea for his parents and served it: “Mom, I called you over today to clarify something. Did you borrow money from Aunt and Uncle? Aunt came today saying you borrowed seventy thousand from her last year.” Hearing this, my father-in-law looked around guiltily without speaking. My mother-in-law paused for a few seconds, then said matter-of-factly, “Oh, I almost forgot. Yes, I borrowed seventy thousand from your aunt last year. I’m a bit tight on cash now; you should help me pay it back.” My husband asked incredulously, “Mom, how can two people’s monthly retirement pension not be enough?” Seeing him angry, she tried to change the topic, “What? I’m your mother, and I can’t spend some money? We have a retirement pension and never asked you for money before. You have no idea; my friend group, their sons give them money every month. Look at you!” My husband ignored her, and I couldn’t hold back: “Those parents also help their kids buy houses and cars! We don’t expect money from you, but at least don’t drag us down!” My mother-in-law dismissed my words, “I’m talking to my son. Why are you butting in? I didn’t ask you to pay.” “You…” I was about to argue when my husband grabbed my wrist and pulled me back, his eyes full of disapproval. Though angry with his parents, he disapproved of me, the daughter-in-law, arguing with them. I was also fired up and thought, “Fine, I won’t hold back either.” I pulled my hand away and sat down somewhere else. My husband rubbed his forehead in frustration, trying to keep his voice calm: “Just tell me, Mom, how much do you owe altogether?” My in-laws exchanged a glance. My husband stared at them intently. My mother-in-law hesitated, “About… about two hundred thousand.” “What? You owe that much? What are you doing with the money, spending or burning it? I told you to spend less every month. Two hundred thousand is my yearly salary. Do you think I’m immortal or something?” My husband stood up in anger, pointing at my in-laws. “Don’t be mad. Just help us pay it off, and we won’t spend recklessly anymore,” my mother-in-law said timidly, scared by my husband’s anger. “Pay it off? Where am I supposed to find the money? I still have to pay the mortgage and car loans every month,” he retorted, annoyed, and sat back down. The living room fell into a strange silence until my mother-in-law turned her attention to me: “Alex, didn’t your mom give you money when she babysat for you? She must have some cash. Why don’t you borrow from her?” When I was postpartum last year, I initially wanted my mother-in-law to help with the baby and offered her five thousand a month, but she was too busy traveling to agree. So I had no choice but to ask my mom. She refused to take money, and after much persuasion, she only accepted three thousand a month as a token, often buying things for me and the baby. That money supposedly went to my mom but ended up with us. Yet, she willingly took care of the baby. I clenched my fists, controlling my emotions: “Mom, I wanted to pay you for watching the baby, but you refused, so I asked my mom. She didn’t want to accept money, only taking three thousand symbolically. And with all the things she buys for the house, the money doesn’t even end up with her. How can you think of borrowing from her?” My mother-in-law wouldn’t listen, using her age to argue, “You talk a good game. Would you let your mom lose money? Who knows how much you gave her secretly? Besides, the baby is her grandchild too. Asking for money hurts the relationship.” When it’s not their problem, they don’t care. I sneered, “You’re noble! You talk about relationships! The baby is your grandchild too, shouldn’t you care without asking for money?” “You… you dare talk back to me, I’m still your mother-in-law. Son, control your wife, she’s disrespectful.” Flustered by my words, my mother-in-law changed the subject, feigning authority. “Alright, stop arguing. Mom and Dad, you can go back. I’ll figure something out,” my husband interrupted our quarrel impatiently. “Charlie, I knew you were a good son, so filial. Leave that money to you,” my mother-in-law cheered up, pleased, and complimented my husband before leaving with my father-in-law, leisurely. I sat quietly, blaming my husband. Our family isn’t well-off, and he just takes on more burdens. With the in-laws’ extravagant spending habits, they’ll just borrow again after we pay this off. When will it end? After thinking for a while, I couldn’t help but speak, “Husband, are you really planning to help your parents pay off this debt? What if they borrow more later?” He took a drag from his cigarette and replied dismissively, “What else can I do? They’re my parents. If I don’t help them, who will?” “Then you should pressure them a bit. Maybe have them save three thousand from their pension each month before spending the rest. It’s not a big burden and could help them develop a habit of saving, just in case,” I suggested, having thought about it for a while. After all, it’s not good for the elderly to have no money at all. “After all, my parents raised me, and I have a duty to support them. Since they have a pension, I haven’t given them money before. This time, helping with the debt is the least I can do. I’ll think about your idea and discuss it with my mom.” I finally spoke my mind about something that had been on my mind for a while. It’s not ideal for elderly parents to be without financial security. “After all, my parents raised me, and I have a responsibility to support them. Since they always had their retirement pension, I never actually gave them money. But this time, helping them pay off their debt is the right thing to do. I’ll consider what you said and discuss it with my mom.” My husband tends to take charge at home, and I’ve usually kept quiet about it. But this time, I couldn’t hold back: “You should discuss it with your mom. Even if we set aside three thousand dollars a month, the remaining six thousand should be enough for your parents. Otherwise, we’re under a lot of financial pressure, and paying back the debt won’t be quick.” My husband looked at me for a moment and sighed, then agreed to talk to his parents. I felt a bit relieved because my aunt urgently needed those seventy thousand dollars. My husband eventually used our savings to pay off his parents’ debt. Fortunately, after this, he followed my suggestion and helped his parents set aside three thousand dollars from their pension each month. Initially, my mother-in-law was unhappy, often complaining about the lack of money. But she eventually quieted down, and I thought she had come around. I was wrong. She and my father-in-law showed up with their luggage, ready to move in. “Charlie, your dad and I decided to stay with you for a while, and I can help with the baby. I don’t need much, just four thousand dollars a month.” I knew nothing came free with my in-laws. The baby was easier to care for now, and my job allowed me to be home often. My mother occasionally helped when I was busy. My mother-in-law’s offer to help with the baby was just a way to get paid. Seeing that my husband and I didn’t respond, she continued: “The baby is my grandchild too, and I miss him. They say there’s a special bond with grandchildren. Plus, if I come, I can help with housework, and Alex won’t be as busy.” Fearing my husband might agree, I quickly intervened: “Mom, the baby is easy to care for now; I can manage on my own. You and Dad are getting older, so it’s better to rest at home. Honestly, we can’t afford an extra four thousand dollars a month.” My words reminded my husband of our financial strain after helping with the debts. We didn’t have much savings left, and the mortgage and car loans were a significant burden. My husband hesitated: “Mom, I can’t give you four thousand dollars a month anymore. After helping with the debt, our expenses are tight. Besides what we spend on the baby, Alex and I hardly spend anything on ourselves.” Hearing her plan wasn’t working, my mother-in-law was displeased: “Son, can’t you spare even three thousand dollars? If not, three thousand is fine, but I won’t do housework for that, and you’ll have to cook for yourselves.” Seeing my husband at a loss, I joined in: “Maybe, Mom, you could handle the rest of the debt yourself? We really can’t provide extra money.” My mother-in-law was taken aback, and my husband seemed to be considering the feasibility of this idea. Worried about being saddled with the debt, my mother-in-law quickly backtracked: “No need, I don’t want the money. But, son, six thousand a month isn’t enough for us. Let us move in with you.” As soon as she said it, she and my father-in-law headed to the guest room with their luggage. Seeing my husband didn’t object, I angrily threw my things into his arms: “What are you thinking? Letting your parents move in is just causing trouble. I was managing the baby alone, and now I have to care for your parents too?” My husband tried to reason: “There’s no other way. My parents want to live with us. I can’t just turn them away; people would gossip.” I rolled my eyes: “Anyone can see your parents are staying because they can’t manage on their own, turning me into a maid for your family.” Hearing me criticize his parents, my husband became serious: “Enough. It’s natural for parents to rely on their children. Don’t worry, they’ll stay for a week, then I’ll send them back. I can’t send them away the same day they arrive with their luggage.” Though upset, I realized he had a point. Forcing them to leave today would make us look bad to the neighbors. “Remember what you said, okay? Send your parents back after a week.” I conceded. Once my in-laws moved in, it was as I feared. Because I didn’t agree to pay my mother-in-law, even though I was already overwhelmed, she refused to help. She waited for me to cook all meals and was picky about the food. She even joined the local dance club, spending her time dancing in the community while ignoring housework. Worse still, they were not tidy, leaving dirty clothes everywhere and not disposing of used bags properly. In just a few days, the house was a mess. I was exhausted, juggling housework, the baby, and two elderly parents, nearing a breaking point. After a week, I brought up sending them back home. “We’re not leaving. Your dad and I are comfortable here, eating and drinking well. Why go back? Are you daring to kick your mom out of your house?” As expected, my mother-in-law glared at my husband instead of me. My husband smiled awkwardly and served her food: “Of course not, Mom. My home is your home! Stay as long as you want.” My father-in-law chimed in while eating: “Charlie, you can’t forget your parents after getting married. We raised you, and now you don’t let us stay? People would talk.” They only thought of living with us after spending their money on travel. After a week, they barely looked at their grandson. I quickly explained: “Parents, it’s not that we don’t want you here, but I’m struggling to handle everything alone. Michael is busy and often works late. I have two days at school a week, and the rest of the time I’m with the baby. With no one to help, I barely have time to cook. With more people in the house, there’s even more housework, and I can’t manage.” My mother-in-law scoffed: “How can we be a burden? You managed before, and now you can’t with us here? You’re just upset I don’t help with the child. Wanting me to work for free? Dream on!”

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My CEO husband was famously known as “Mr. Always Right.” Whatever his wife says is right; whatever she does is right. If something is wrong, it must be his fault. Everyone envied me for marrying the perfect man—until our anniversary party when I smashed a bottle over the head of his mistress-secretary. “Mr. Always Right” finally showed his true colors in public. “Apologize, or we’re getting divorced. Pick one!” I laughed calmly. “Well, here’s to the three of you living happily ever after!” Content As everyone looked at me in confusion, Ivy Snow, Declan Hawthorne’s secretary, collapsed to her knees before me. “Mrs. Chase, please don’t misunderstand! I would never try to seduce Mr. Hawthorne!” Her tear-streaked face wore an expression of grievance, but her eyes carried a bold and unmistakable challenge. Just like before—every time she deliberately ensured I “accidentally” saw her and Declan entangled in their sordid affairs. The onlookers quickly snapped out of their stupor, coming forward with forced smiles to mediate. “Mrs. Chase, everyone knows how deeply Mr. Hawthorne loves you! Why hold a grudge against his secretary over something so trivial? Isn’t that right, everyone?” Echoes of agreement surrounded me, accompanied by smug, condescending grins. To them, I was the trophy wife who had it all. A single word from me, and Declan would fly across the country just to deliver grapes he’d picked to satisfy my cravings. If I frowned, he’d buy out the entire city’s fireworks supply and light up the night sky, shouting his thunderous apologies. They envied me, but behind my back, they whispered I was nothing more than an ornamental vase—how did someone like me deserve a man as perfect as him? I don’t blame them for being naive. I blame Declan Hawthorne for playing the role of a devoted husband so convincingly for eight years. Little did they know, their “Mr. Always Right” had a single exception: Ivy Snow, his indispensable “right hand.” He’d said it himself—anyone could be sacrificed, but not her. Tonight, I confirmed that with my own eyes. I turned to the angry man, whose face was dark, and spoke softly. “Mr. Hawthorne, is that what you think too?” His lips pressed into a tight line, his eyes cold and distant, as if I were a stranger. He didn’t answer my question. Instead, he scooped Ivy into his arms and strode away. The guests, who had been laughing at my expense, froze in stunned disbelief as they watched him coo over the woman in his arms. “Ivy, don’t be afraid. As long as I’m here, no one will hurt you!” The tender reassurance echoed like a warning—directed at me. But after playing the “perfect wife” for eight long years, I was done with this charade. I stepped onto the stage, ripped off the banner covering, and revealed the bold words underneath the Divorce Celebration Party. Raising my glass to the crowd, I declared, “Thank you all for attending my divorce party. Cheers!” At that moment, I felt no sadness about being abandoned by my husband—only a profound sense of liberation. I had waited eight years for this day. Finally, finally, I was free. It felt so good. As I toasted to my newfound freedom, someone screamed, “Mr. Hawthorne! Mr. Hawthorne jumped into the ocean!”

By the next day, the news of Declan Hawthorne’s dramatic leap into the sea had spread like wildfire across Bayshore, California. The uninformed public marveled at his devotion and condemned the “trophy wife” as a heartless villain. Meanwhile, the guests who had witnessed him leave the Sunset Bay Cruise with Ivy now scrambled to send me consolation messages. “See? Deep down, Mr. Hawthorne still loves you. Otherwise, why would he jump into the ocean? He knows he was wrong—forgive him this once, okay?” If not for Ivy’s sentimental video, I might have been swayed by their words and believed Declan’s leap was a momentary lapse in judgment. In the video, the trembling and drenched Declan clung tightly to Ivy, tenderly stroking her hair. “It’s okay. Everything will be fine. I won’t let anyone call you a homewrecker.” There he was—a man terrified of water—willing to leap into the sea to protect his precious Ivy from public scorn. He loved her. I truly, deeply loved her. That’s his kind of fiery, icy love. After a night of drinking, I stumbled upon entering the room. The sharp pain stole my breath away. A cold voice shattered the silence. “Savannah Chase, I’ve given you the title of Mrs. Hawthorne. What more do you want?” Oh, right. I remembered the public proposal when he knelt before me, vowing I would always be the one and only Mrs. Hawthorne. At the time, I’d been blinded by love, ignoring how his affectionate gaze wasn’t directed at me but at a weeping Ivy nearby. Through his actions, he showed her that my title was empty. Ivy Snow was his true love. I had fought, yelled, and begged him to answer whether I had a place in his heart. Each time, he’d reply with the same icy detachment, devoid of warmth. “As long as you don’t touch her, you’ll always be the one I love most.” How cruel. His words wounded me deeply, but they also opened my eyes. He never loved me. Not even a little. Before I could answer, he grabbed my wrist and pulled me close, tending to the cut on my face with steady, practiced hands. When I tried to turn away, he held me in place with an iron grip. “Mrs. Hawthorne, your face belongs to the Hawthorne Corporation, too. You can’t afford to damage it.” Ah, yes. There was a gala tomorrow, and the hosts had explicitly requested my attendance. How could Mrs. Hawthorne show up with a flaw? I bit down hard, breaking his skin. My resentment and despair tasted of iron as I swallowed the blood that bound us together yet tore us apart. His fingers trembled slightly but didn’t withdraw. Only when my jaw ached and I let go did he grasp my chin and force me to look up. “Savannah, this is your final warning. Don’t push me too far.” Clutching his hand, he turned to leave. On the staircase, he stopped and looked back at me. “Tomorrow, make sure your makeup covers the cut. I don’t want any news of trouble in the Hawthorne marriage spreading again.” As his words cut through me, I could no longer hold back. “Mr. Hawthorne, did you forget what you said yesterday? Weren’t we getting a divorce?” Wasn’t he letting me go? He didn’t answer; he just kept walking. I stepped forward, waving a blood-stained photo in his direction, and smiled coldly. “Your beloved Ivy is in my hands. Aren’t you afraid I’ll do something to her?” In an instant, he lunged at me, gripping my throat with a terrifying intensity. “Savannah Chase, tell me—what did you do to Ivy?” I smirked at the frantic man before me, curving my lips without saying a word. His grip tightened, his rage boiling over as he growled. “If anything happens to Ivy, I’ll make sure you pay with your life.” Pay with my life? That sounded like a relief. At least in death, I’d escape this farce of a world. Closing my eyes, I waited for the end. But instead, my phone rang. He answered it with one hand, and Ivy’s mocking voice filled the room. “Savannah, how are you enjoying the gift I sent? Declan held me all night, again and again. Meanwhile, you spent the night alone, didn’t you? Want me to ask him to keep you company tonight?” The pressure on my neck disappeared instantly, and I collapsed to the floor. My reopened wounds bled freely, staining the cold tiles. In the icy silence, his warmth rushed over me like fire. “Savannah Chase, you don’t get to die without my permission!” How ironic. He didn’t know I’d rather die than endure this hell. But not this time, Declan Hawthorne. You’re not keeping me here anymore.

When I woke up in Seaside Medical Center, the first thing I saw was Declan Hawthorne slumped over by my bedside, his face pale with exhaustion and worry etched into his furrowed brow. Yesterday, in the haze of semi-consciousness, I vaguely remembered his frantic voice. “Savannah Chase, didn’t you say you loved me? Then you need to stay alive and keep loving me!” Once, I had believed that, too. I thought love was enough. But time, like a butcher’s blade, had sliced away my patience and affection, forcing me to see the truth. Wasting years on a man who didn’t love me back? Not worth it. A gust of wind brushed against my neck, and Declan woke with a start. Seeing my open eyes, he looked oddly relieved. “You—you’re awake?!” When I didn’t respond, he awkwardly reached for the water on the nightstand, trying to fill the silence. “I talked to Ivy about what happened yesterday. Don’t worry; she won’t bother you anymore.” Then, with an almost playful tone, “Savannah, you’ve got to stop using random photos from the internet to scare me. I thought—” He trailed off, shaking his head. “Never mind. Let’s just put it behind us. Can we stop fighting and return to how we used to be?” He held the cup to my lips, but as I raised my arm, my sleeve slipped back, exposing the scars on my wrist. His hand trembled, spilling water everywhere. “Who did this to you, Savannah? Tell me! Who hurt you?!” For once, there was genuine panic in his eyes. Was it pity? Compassion? Where was that concern when my depression had driven me to self-harm? When I’d cried myself to sleep, covering those scars with layers of foundation? Oh, right. He’d been laughing with Ivy, debating steak or seafood for dinner or deciding between a trip to Scandinavia or South America. Every business trip and every meeting had been their excuse for a romantic getaway. Meanwhile, the “Mrs. Hawthorne” they left behind was drowning in her despair, unseen and unheard of. I pulled my arm away from his grip and met his gaze, speaking slowly and clearly. “I did it to myself. But if you don’t let me go next time, I might aim here.” I dragged my finger across my neck. His dark eyes quivered, and he grabbed my hand, forcing it down. “S-Savannah, I’m sorry. Anything but divorce—whatever you want, I’ll give it to you.” “Then end things with Ivy Snow.” The sound of the glass shattering as he dropped it was deafening. I looked at him and let out a mocking laugh. “See? Even that—you can’t do it.” His expression darkened, his hands clamped down on my shoulders, fingers digging into my skin. “SAVANNAH CHASE, why? Why do you keep pushing me? You’ve been the CEO’s wife for years. What have you learned besides manipulation and blackmail?” “I learned how to let go,” I said, meeting his glare. “Let go of loving you. Declan Hawthorne, I don’t love you anymore. Let me go.” The grip on my shoulders loosened as his face crumbled, his gaze clouded with disbelief and despair. His lips parted as if to argue, but his assistant rushed in before he could, looking frantic. “Mr. Hawthorne, something’s happened to Ivy!” Declan broke from his stupor and darted toward the door, but I grabbed his wrist, stopping him. “Maybe this time, I can help.” His response was a sneer. “Savannah Chase, you’re good for one thing—being a pretty vase. What else could you possibly do?” He left, slamming the door behind him and taking the cold air. Unbothered, I reached for my phone and made a call. “Elias? I’ll be there soon.” Let’s see how his indispensable Ivy handles this mess.

Outside the VIP suite at Eclipse Lounge, the door hung ajar. Inside, chaos reigned—a bloodied Declan sat slumped on the floor amid broken glass and overturned furniture. It wasn’t hard to piece together what had happened: the knight rushing to save his damsel, a dramatic display of heroics for his secretary. But this time, he’d crossed paths with Elias Monroe, the one man in Bayshore who didn’t forgive or forget. “Declan Hawthorne,” Elias growled from his perch on the leather armchair, radiating authority. “Your secretary screwed up the paperwork, cost me millions in a deal. That’s nothing compared to the reputation blow Monroe Industries took because of her. This isn’t over.” Declan’s attempts to plead were brushed aside as Elias’s two hulking bodyguards loomed closer, their shadows stretching across the room. Before Declan could answer, Ivy scrambled onto the windowsill, sobbing hysterically. “I’ll jump! Don’t come closer!” Declan bolted forward, but Elias stopped him with a firm hand on his shoulder. Elias scoffed, signaling the bodyguards to approach. “You were going to jump, right? I’m just helping you out. Go ahead. Next life, try being a better person.” “Elias, don’t touch her!” Declan yelled, desperation edging his voice. “Name your price. Anything you want!” Elias leaned back, smirking. “Fine. I want Hawthorne Corporation. All of it.” Declan fell silent, not because he didn’t want to, but because he couldn’t. Hawthorne Corporation wasn’t solely his to give away. With a snap of Elias’s fingers, the bodyguards moved to grab Ivy. She crumbled to the floor, clutching Declan’s legs, begging incoherently. Disgusted, Declan kicked her away. “Pathetic. A grown woman groveling like this? Disgusting.” I cleared my throat, stepping into the room. Elias’s face lit up when he saw me, and he sprang to his feet, pulling out a chair for me. “Savannah, you’ve finally agreed to my terms?” Ignoring him, I turned to Declan, my voice steady. “That depends on whether Mr. Hawthorne agrees to mine.” Declan’s bloodied face paled as he glanced at Ivy, then back at me. After a long, agonizing pause, he clenched his jaw and nodded. “Fine. I’ll agree to anything if you can get Elias off my back.” I pulled the divorce papers from my bag and handed them to him. His expression hardened as he stared at the document. “You planned this all along, didn’t you?” “Yes,” I said simply. He snatched the pen and scribbled his name without hesitation. Then, lifting Ivy into his arms, he walked out, pausing only to throw me a parting remark. “Savannah Chase, don’t let me regret this. You know the consequences.” Oh, I knew. But after surviving this hell, I wouldn’t make the same mistakes again. As the door clicked shut, I whispered to the empty room, “Declan Hawthorne, I’m not a vase. I never was.”

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After making my girlfriend’s restaurant go viral online, the boss’s girlfriend finally decided to reveal my identity at the celebration banquet. But my former apprentice beat her to it, walking up to her parents and arrogantly saying: “Hello, father-in-law and mother-in-law. I’m Emma’s boyfriend.” My girlfriend not only didn’t refute this, but even took out the shares that originally belonged to me and gave them to my apprentice in front of everyone. The restaurant staff was in an uproar, starting to make a fuss. My apprentice kicked me while I was down, and my girlfriend didn’t stop him. She even mocked: “Your cooking skills are indeed okay, but without Ryan’s marketing, no one would know about the stuff you make. You should thank him.” I smiled calmly and nodded: “You’re right. I think just giving him shares isn’t enough. I’ll give him my position too.” I took off my jacket and walked out of the restaurant. I want to see how they’ll keep this restaurant running without me as the head chef and behind-the-scenes promoter. Emma announced to all the employees that Ryan had become one of the behind-the-scenes owners of Magic Bistro. The whole room erupted in cheers. I stared at her in disbelief, my pristine white suit suddenly seeming out of place. “Haha, Jack the cook wearing a suit, how ridiculous!” “What good is cooking skill? This is the internet age. Without Ryan’s online marketing, we wouldn’t have any customers!” “Jack always acted high and mighty as head chef and Ryan’s former mentor, but looks like Emma knows who’s really important to our restaurant.” The employees whispered mockingly. I knew they were taking sides, trying to curry favor with Ryan by mocking me. After all, I was just a cook Emma didn’t value, while Ryan was the new golden boy of this grand restaurant. Ryan put his arm around Emma’s waist and looked at me provocatively, his words dripping with fake courtesy: “Master, you dressed up so nicely today. You must be happy for me too, right?” “But why do you look so upset?” I stared coldly at Emma, wanting her to give me an explanation. Emma’s eyes were filled with disdain. Probably afraid I would cause a scene and ruin her carefully planned celebration, she spoke coldly: “Jack, stop with the attitude. I did promise to give you those shares, but who told you to be so useless? You nearly bankrupted the restaurant before. Not making you pay for it was already merciful of me.” “Is that so?” I looked at the woman before me, my heart sinking to rock bottom. The previous mess was clearly caused by Ryan. He secretly used pre-prepared ingredients at an official banquet without telling me. It was discovered, and I helped clean up his mess because he was my apprentice. Emma knew the truth about this incident. But now they were pinning all the blame on me. I was used to it by now though. Ever since Ryan joined the company, Emma had broken her own principles for him many times. Although Ryan was incompetent, he was young and smooth-talking. He knew how to make her happy. Emma’s heart had long since strayed. “Whatever makes you happy.” I no longer wanted to argue further with them. However, Ryan probably thought I was admitting defeat. A flash of smugness crossed his eyes, but his expression became even more pitiful. “Emma, is Master angry at me? If so, I don’t want these shares. You should give them back to Master. After all, he’s been at the restaurant longer than me.” Hearing this, the mockery on Emma’s face became even more obvious. “Don’t worry about him. Our restaurant rewards contribution, not seniority. He has no skills but still has the nerve to take it out on others.” The other employees around also kept mocking me. Hearing this, I truly felt like all my past sincerity had been fed to the dogs. Emma said she was saving face for me, but when had she ever done that? Magic Bistro was built by Emma and me together. But she didn’t understand management at all. From the very beginning, I was the one in charge. Not only did I build the operations team, I also got hands-on myself, using my family’s culinary skills. I even used my family connections to invite celebrities from various circles to dine at the restaurant, creating this wave of popularity for the bistro. I poured my heart and soul into it for so many years. I never expected that now that Magic Bistro had achieved fame and success, Emma would attribute all the credit to Ryan. Since that’s how it is, there’s no point in staying here anymore. I took a long, hard look at Emma and Ryan. Ryan immediately hid behind Emma. “Emma, I’m scared.” Emma immediately glared at me angrily, “Jack, what are you trying to do?! Don’t tell me you want to get violent? I’m warning you, I can make you leave right now!” I loosened my fists, finding the situation strangely amusing. For Ryan’s sake, Emma had threatened me with this excuse more than once before. But in the past, I liked her too much. I was fooled by her repeated promises. I thought as long as I made the restaurant successful, she would really marry me. But now, I finally saw clearly. I calmly took off my suit jacket. “No need for you to kick me out. I’ll leave on my own!” Probably because I had never defied her like this before, Emma was stunned for a moment. I turned and strode towards the exit. “Jack, stop right there!” Emma’s furious threat came from behind, “If you dare leave today, don’t ever come back!” I didn’t look back. I took out my phone and dialed a number I hadn’t called in a long time. “Grandpa, I agree to come back and inherit the family business.” My grandfather was the behind-the-scenes controller of the country’s leading restaurant group. But when I first met Emma, she said she hated those good-for-nothing rich kids, so I hid my identity. For her sake, I rejected my predetermined fate, abandoned everything, and eloped with her in a grand escape. I even went from being a rich young master to becoming a cook, all for her. But it wasn’t until now that I realized how laughable my love was. I hung up the phone and returned to the house Emma and I shared to pack my things. On our bed still lay rose petals, candles, a pure white wedding dress, the property deed I had given her, and a dazzling diamond ring. I had countless times imagined how delighted and excited Emma would be when she saw these things. But now, I packed everything into my suitcase, preparing to leave. I opened my social media and saw that Ryan had posted a photo. In the picture, Emma’s cheeks were flushed red as she curled up like a kitten in Ryan’s arms. Although I had already decided to leave, my heart still trembled for a moment. Ryan had even commented below the post: Thanks to all our friends and family for the blessings. If it were the past me, seeing this message would have made me furiously jealous and confronting Emma. But not anymore. I blocked and deleted Emma and Ryan’s accounts. I no longer wanted to see this pair of scumbags. However, just after blocking and deleting them, Emma called. She angrily said, “Jack, what do you mean by this? How dare you block my account? Just because I gave the shares to Ryan? You have no skills yourself but have the nerve to be jealous of others?” My hand gripping the phone tightened. “Do you really not know whether I have skills or not, Emma?” There was a pause on the other end, then Emma’s voice came even louder. “You dare talk back! Jack, you’ve grown too bold! Don’t think you’re all that just because you can cook a bit. What right do you have to compare yourself to Ryan!” “I’ve never compared myself to him,” I said word by word, “Because he’s not worthy!” I hung up after saying that. Emma kept calling back, but I didn’t answer a single call. She switched from calling to texting. “How dare you hang up on me! Who do you think you are! You really think Magic Bistro can’t do without you? If it weren’t for Ryan, I’d be embarrassed to even show off your pathetic cooking skills.” “Let me tell you, hurry up and come apologize to Ryan! I can give you a chance to take me back, otherwise you can forget about marrying me in this lifetime.” I laughed coldly to myself, really not wanting to waste any more time on her. I turned off my phone and went to sleep. In the past, whenever Emma stayed out late and didn’t come home, I would always worry about her safety. I would lie awake all night, silently waiting by the phone. But now, I couldn’t mistreat myself like that anymore. I lay in bed and slept soundly for the first time, not having to worry about the restaurant or work. However, half an hour later, Emma kicked open my bedroom door. A sudden loud bang jolted me awake. Emma’s furious face came into view. “Jack, are you tired of living?! How dare you hang up on me and not come pick me up!” I was irritated from being woken up. I threw off the covers and sat up. “Didn’t you already announce you’re with Ryan? You can have your boyfriend pick you up!” I was just stating facts, but Emma unexpectedly sneered when she heard this. “What are you getting jealous about again! Jack, I’ve never seen such a petty man as you! But…” She paused, “Since you care about me so much, I’ll tell you – there’s nothing between Ryan and me. We only announced it to create buzz for the restaurant.” She leaned in closer. The unpleasant smell of cigarettes on her irritated my nose. Emma didn’t smoke. The smell was very similar to Ryan’s favorite brand. She continued rambling, “Just go apologize to Ryan tomorrow. As long as he forgives you, I can let you come back as the chef.” I looked at Emma’s mocking expression. She seemed certain I would agree. But this time, I just frowned and pushed her away. “Sorry, not going!” I got up and walked towards another room. Emma’s furious voice came from behind. “Jack! You’re really asking for it! Just you wait!” I didn’t look back, just locked the door and went back to sleep. The next morning, I came out of the room stretching lazily. But I saw Emma sitting unusually docilely in the kitchen, like a newlywed wife. In front of her were two bowls of wonton soup. However, the wontons seemed to have been opened before. Emma saw me come out and smiled at someone behind me: “Ryan, come quick! The wontons will get cold soon!” I turned to look behind me. Ryan was shirtless with just a white towel around his waist. He greeted me: “Morning, Master! I worked out with Emma last night and got all sweaty, so I borrowed your shower. Hope you don’t mind.” “Oh? Emma, why did you only buy two bowls? Didn’t you get any for Master?” Emma snorted coldly, “Is he worthy? Come Ryan, let me feed you.” She fed Ryan a wonton with a spoon, then looked at me provocatively. Seeing the smugness in her eyes, I instantly understood. She was trying to provoke me, wanting me to go crazy in front of her. And she would sit like a queen on her throne, enjoying my possessiveness over her. It may have worked in the past, but not anymore. Right in front of Emma, I calmly left. Although I no longer planned to work at the restaurant, I still had to go back one last time. To help boost the restaurant’s reputation for going public, I had begged my grandfather, the Culinary God, to agree to come promote it. No matter what, I had to take care of this. When I arrived at the restaurant, a large crowd had already gathered outside. They must have heard that the Culinary God was coming and were waiting here on purpose. The restaurant had been promoting this for a while, but they didn’t know the Culinary God was coming because of me. Everyone attributed it to Ryan. Ryan had even arrived before me. As soon as I got there, I heard people praising him. “Ryan is really something, boosting the restaurant’s reputation so much that even the Culinary God was attracted!” Others immediately chimed in: “Exactly, that Jack wanted to compete with Ryan. He really has no self-awareness.” Hearing the flattery, Ryan looked very smug. “Don’t say that. If Jack hadn’t looked down on me before and not let me be a chef, I wouldn’t have done such a good job with marketing.” As soon as he finished speaking, someone immediately agreed. “Hmph, I think he’s just jealous. Who does Jack think he is to compare himself to Ryan?” Just as they were enthusiastically kissing up, I walked right in. “Well, if it isn’t Jack? Didn’t you leave? Why are you back?” “Probably saw the Culinary God was coming and came back to mooch off Ryan’s success!” They all looked at me with disdain. I just stared at them coldly. “Who’s mooching off who? Ryan knows best, doesn’t he?” “Such big talk!” Someone immediately stood up to defend Ryan. “Are you saying our Ryan is mooching off you? Look at yourself! What are you?” “That’s right! Our Ryan made the restaurant famous and invited the Culinary God. Can you do that?” Everyone’s eyes were full of mockery. “Don’t tell me you want to say you invited the Culinary God!” “What if I say I did?” “Jack, what trouble are you causing here again!” Emma’s voice came from behind. “Who told you to stand here?” “Emma, you’re finally here!” Ryan immediately stood behind Emma. “Please talk some sense into Master. He’s insisting he invited the Culinary God. The Culinary God is about to arrive. If he hears this…” Emma angrily slapped me across the face. “Who told you to spout nonsense here! The Culinary God clearly came because of Ryan’s reputation. How shameless can you be!” I looked at Emma. “I’m shameless? Emma, you probably still don’t understand who this restaurant really relied on to get where it is today!” “Relied on who?” Emma sneered, “Don’t tell me you want to say it relied on you? Jack, you’re just a cook. Stop trying to take credit.” “That’s right, Master!” Ryan also stepped forward. “You stealing my credit before was one thing, but the Culinary God’s visit concerns the restaurant’s future. I really can’t let you spread nonsense.” Emma came over and slapped me again. “Petty and selfish. Hurry up and apologize to Ryan!” I clenched my fists, seeing the smug smile on Ryan’s face. “What if I don’t?” “Then get out! Get out of Magic Bistro, and I’ll blacklist you in the whole industry. You’ll never work as a chef again in this lifetime!” I raised an eyebrow, finding it amusing. “Blacklist?” Emma probably thought I was giving in. A look of triumph appeared on her face. “That’s right! Jack, you’re just a useless cook, while Ryan has connections with the Culinary God! You’d better understand – if it weren’t for me, you’d never amount to anything in your life!” “Is that so?” I sneered, “Emma, are you sure he has connections with the Culinary God? Are you sure you want to blacklist me for his sake?” “Yes! If you apologize to Ryan now, there’s still time. But this time, you have to kneel.” Emma was confident. Ryan also walked up to me. “Sorry Master, but this is Emma’s decision. I can’t go against it.” The smugness on his face was evident. Just then, a booming voice suddenly came from behind him. “Who dares make him kneel! Who dares!” The crowd immediately parted to make way. Someone exclaimed: “The Culinary God! It’s the Culinary God!”

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It was a stormy night. The school bus driver had called in sick, unable to take the children home. As the class advisor, I remained unmoved as the children cried and begged me to drive them home. In my previous life, I had given in to my daughter’s pleas and chose to drive the children home myself. As an inexperienced driver, I had managed to successfully deliver each child to their home, trembling with nervousness the entire time. The next day, the entire class collectively boycotted school. Not a single student showed up. A crowd of parents stormed the school, accusing me of failing to protect their children as the class advisor. My beaten colleagues vented their frustrations on me. “Didn’t you promise to get the children home safely? Why have they all disappeared?” they demanded. “Child trafficker! You deserve to die!” someone shouted. I desperately tried to defend myself, but the police arrived with criminals in tow who accused me of being their accomplice. Even my own daughter tearfully stood up and accused me of violently abusing the children. I stared at my daughter in shock as she produced a surveillance video. The footage showed me wielding a cane, bringing it down hard on the children as they cried out in pain. The people around me angrily denounced me as a monster. My husband even provided a video of me privately cursing the children. I found myself universally condemned. Despite multiple appeals to prove my innocence, the surveillance footage and videos nailed me to the pillar of shame. I was immediately sentenced to death. When I opened my eyes again, I had somehow returned to that fateful rainy night. My daughter, Tiana Quinn, looked at me pleadingly. “Mom, Miss Yolanda said only you can drive the school bus. Please help my classmates, okay?” Outside the office, over twenty children stood pitifully in the rain, their eyes glistening with tears. They begged, “Mrs. White, please help us. Otherwise, we’ll have to stay at school in the rain all night.” I couldn’t help but think of the tragic outcome from my previous life, my body trembling uncontrollably. I shook my head repeatedly. “No, I’m just the class advisor. I don’t have approval to use the school bus. I can’t possibly drive it.” The children’s expressions dimmed. They hung their heads dejectedly. My office colleagues finally couldn’t bear to watch any longer. “Mrs. Brown, the children are getting soaked. Who cares about approval at a time like this?” one said. “Exactly! How can you be so cold-hearted as their class advisor?” another chimed in. “If I knew how to drive, I’d definitely take the children home myself,” a third added. A chorus of complaints and accusations suddenly flooded my ears. I was momentarily speechless, my gaze suddenly fixed on the window outside. My husband, Ezra Quinn, came rushing in, the smile on his face instantly turning to concern when he met my eyes. “Your school bus driver has a high fever and can’t pick up the kids. We’ve coordinated with our side,” he explained. “We can’t spare anyone from our company at the moment, so I went ahead and got approval from your school leaders. Can you fill in for now?” I stared hard at Ezra. That was awfully quick. My daughter instantly brightened. “That’s great, Mom! Now that you have approval, you can take my classmates home, right?” I still refused. Looking at Ezra, I said apologetically, “I only recently learned to drive. I’m afraid something might happen with such a big bus full of students.” “Why don’t you do it? I remember you know how to drive the school bus too.” Ezra’s expression froze. When he recovered, he shook his head repeatedly. “No, no, I haven’t driven a big vehicle in over a decade. It would be truly irresponsible if I tried.” His expression gradually turned strange. “I know you’ve never liked these kids much, but you’re their class advisor. It’s your responsibility to get them home safely.” My heart skipped a beat. Seeing Ezra about to take out his phone, my eyes darkened. “I’ll make sure to get the children home safely,” I said. My husband instantly relaxed. He smiled and picked up our daughter. “Then I’ll take our daughter home first to wait for you.” Tiana’s face lit up with a big smile. “Bye, Mom!” That strange feeling crept over me again. Nevertheless, I led the group of children onto the bus. The bus was covered in cobwebs, looking as if it hadn’t been driven in years. As I sat in the driver’s seat, a stinging sensation spread across my arm. The next moment, a rash of tiny bumps erupted all over my skin. I paused, looking at my exposed arm. In my previous life, the same thing had happened when I boarded the bus – a rash of tiny bumps appeared, and I developed a fever while on the bus. I had assumed it was from getting rained on. After a moment’s thought, I immediately called an old classmate. The children’s impatient voices came from behind me: “Mrs. Brown, when can we leave?” I snapped back to reality. I turned to face them with a smile. “Don’t worry, everyone. I promise I’ll get you all home safely!” Cheers erupted from behind me as I decisively drove the bus in the opposite direction. At the hospital entrance, I stopped the bus. My old classmate hurried over to take over. “I’ve got the students from here. You go on ahead,” he said. Twenty minutes later, I received a call from Ezra. He sounded like he’d taken the wrong medication: “Why haven’t you delivered everyone yet?” “Don’t you know all the parents have been calling?” “Where are you right now?” I looked up at the emergency room sign and replied curtly, “Hospital emergency room.” He paused, then said urgently, “I’m coming to find you!” The call ended with just a busy signal. Coming out of the emergency room, I ran right into Ezra. His face was grim as he launched into a tirade: “Which is more important, the kids or you? Not taking the children home first is literally gambling with their lives!” “Letting someone like you be a teacher – they must be blind!” My heart sank lower and lower. I had heard such words countless times before. “Lark Brown, you’re a disgrace to the teaching profession!” “You’re so useless, don’t corrupt those children!” “The school leaders must be blind to let someone like you be a teacher!” Each word stabbed at my heart. I had once fallen into depression and anxiety because of such words, questioning myself over and over again. I had taken antidepressants and anti-anxiety medication by the handful. Hearing it now, I just found it somewhat amusing. I gave Ezra a cold look. His expression froze. He seemed somewhat embarrassed and angry. “You’re glaring at me now! Am I not telling the truth?” he demanded. “Look at yourself! How did you insult those children behind their backs?” “You even said you’d sell the children! I bet you meant it!” His heated words drew quite a crowd. The phone video clearly transmitted my abusive language to everyone’s ears. The onlookers grew furious. “What kind of teacher are you? The children have become a burden in your eyes?” “You don’t deserve to be a teacher!” “Which school do you teach at? We’ll make sure to spread the word!” The accusations left me feeling suffocated. The world seemed to sway before my eyes. In my daze, I thought I saw Ezra smile. Then he bowed deeply to the crowd. “I’m terribly sorry for upsetting everyone.” “But the school bus driver is sick today, and my wife is the only one who can drive the big bus.” “Please give my wife a chance. Let her take those children home first.” I unconsciously followed Ezra’s lead and bowed as well. As I bent over, a child nearby crashed into me hard, knocking me to the ground. I suddenly came to my senses. Although the crowd was still angry, when they heard there were children waiting for me to take them home, they didn’t rebuke me further. I vaguely heard someone say, “It’s a good thing this teacher’s husband is sensible. Otherwise those poor children would really be in trouble.” Ezra looked at me imperiously. “Hurry up and go take the children home. What are you standing around for?” I didn’t move. Ezra’s expression became strangely bewildered. I finally explained, “I have a fever. If I force myself to drive, an accident could easily happen.” “I can’t be responsible for so many children’s lives!” With that, Ezra’s face darkened completely. One of his fists was clenched tight, while the other hand was hidden behind his back. After a moment, he sneered, “Still pretending to be sick? I bet you’re just trying to meet up with someone.” “After all, you have a record of contacting suspects.” My husband kept producing evidence to corroborate my alleged contact with suspects. The crowd’s chatter had already nailed me as a child trafficker. Someone even called the police to arrest me. I bit my lip, not knowing how to defend myself. At some point, Yolanda had hurried over. She was soaking wet, her exposed skin flushed red. When she reached me, she broke into a fit of heavy coughing, doubling over. After a long while, she finally straightened up. With reddened eyes, she bowed deeply to me. “Mrs. Brown, please don’t be angry. I’m so sorry,” she said. “It’s my fault for getting sick. I’ll take over the school bus now and get the children home safely.” Her nasally voice immediately swayed everyone’s sympathy towards her. “Is this the school bus driver?” “Look what this teacher has reduced the poor driver to.” “If you ask me, she’s just jealous that this driver is younger and prettier than her. She wants to make her lose her job.” There was a hint of triumph in Yolanda’s eyes. She asked, “Mrs. Brown, where are the children? Can you take me to pick them up first?” “I just went to the school bus and saw it was empty—” With those words, everyone exploded. They all stared at me in disbelief: “You really sold the children?” Yolanda also looked incredulous, her eyes wide and tearful. “Mrs. Brown, how could you do this?” “Those children adored you the most!” They didn’t give me a chance to respond. Several parents rushed over. With bloodshot eyes, they grabbed my collar: “Lark Brown! What did my child ever do to you that you had to sell them?” “I always thought you were a good teacher! I was so wrong about you!” With that, a fist mercilessly slammed into my eye. I winced in pain, frowning deeply. The person holding me clearly had no intention of letting go. They only wanted their children back now: “Lark Brown, give me back my child!” “He’s my only child, you’re destroying our whole family!” Behind me, an old woman’s heart-wrenching cries rang out with genuine emotion. For the sake of her grandchild, she knelt down before me. She kept kowtowing, begging: “Mrs. Brown, if it’s money you want, I’ll give you as much as you ask. I’m begging you, please give my grandchild back to me.” At this moment, my throat felt painfully constricted. The people attacking me kept beating me, while the old woman kept crying and shouting. The scene was utter chaos. “Grandma, please get up! This teacher with no ethics doesn’t deserve your kneeling!” someone urged. “Get up quickly, there are so many of us here. We won’t let a child trafficker escape!” “That’s right, how could we let one person get away with trafficking children?” The old woman ignored all this. She cried and shouted for me to release her grandson. Her forehead was already bleeding. The crowd’s anger towards me grew heavier and heavier. Until I was beaten within an inch of my life. Someone grabbed me by the collar and lifted me up. “Come on, I’m taking this child trafficker to the police station. I want to see how long she can keep acting tough!” We had only reached the hospital entrance when a group of police officers blocked our path. “Who is Lark Brown?” one asked. “Someone reported you for human trafficking crimes!” “Officer, she’s right here!” someone called out. I was thrown to the ground. At last I could finally catch my breath. After a long while, I managed to climb to my feet with a bitter smile. “Officer, I reported myself. I may have been involved in human trafficking.” Someone finally couldn’t hold back: “If you were involved then you were involved, what do you mean ‘may have been’!” “The police are already here, are you still trying to deny it?” “What? You think using vague words means you don’t have to face legal consequences?” Angry, they kicked me. I staggered and fell to the ground. The police officer swept his gaze over the crowd and said coldly, “Calm down!” He looked down at me and had someone help me up. “What happened? Explain yourself!” After a long while, I shook my head to clear the double vision. “I was poisoned which caused hallucinations. I was going to sell the children.” The old woman rushed over and grabbed my collar, demanding: “You really sold the children? Are you even human!” “Poisoned? Do you look like someone who’s been poisoned?” Ezra gave a cold laugh. I didn’t respond to him, but stood up and handed the medical report I had gotten from the emergency room to the police officer. “You can take a look. The poison wasn’t severe, but enough to cause a high fever and hallucinations.” “In an unclear state of mind, I may have acted in ways that went against my true intentions.” The police officer looked shocked as he examined the report. After staring at it for a long time, he said, “We’ll thoroughly verify the information you’ve provided.” “We’ll take you home first.” The crowd stared at the police officer in shock. “Officer, she sold children. Why can she go home?” “Shouldn’t she be taken to the station at a time like this?” Ezra panicked and hurriedly blocked the police officer’s path.

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Everyone said my father, Henley Davidson, was a good man. The neighbor’s son couldn’t find a job after graduation. Without a second thought, my father gave him my mother’s job, and when my mother wanted to get it back, he scolded her. “What’s wrong with helping out neighbors? How could you go and ask for it back? You’re just making me look bad! Later, my father lost his job because of a mistake at work. And then, he started giving away our savings to keep his image as a “good man”. When my sister, Lynne Davidson, was sick, we didn’t have the money to treat her illness, and my mother had to watch her daughter die in her arms helplessly. After graduating from college, I worked hard and finally saved enough money to buy a house. However, my father asked me to give it to his brother, Terry Davidson’s son, Percy Davidson, who was getting married. I refused, and my father pointed his finger at me, yelling, “We’re family! What’s wrong with helping each other out? All those years of studying, and you haven’t learned anything useful, have you?” Looking at his self-righteous expression, I couldn’t help but laugh. He probably didn’t know that everyone called him a fool or a sucker behind his back.

“Rosina, you should listen to me. You should give the house to Percy. He’s getting married and needs it urgently. We’re relatives. Don’t make a fuss over it.” My father sat on the sofa, one hand holding a cigarette, the other gesturing at me. Seeing I didn’t look willing to give them the house, Terry, who was sitting next to me, poured me a cup of coffee and smiled as he set it in front of me. “Henley has a point. As a family, we should support each other. Percy’s girlfriend insists that he buy a house before they marry. Considering you don’t require the house at present, perhaps you could give it to him. It makes sense to lend it to let him use it for now.” I glanced at the coffee on the table but didn’t say a word. Anger was boiling inside me. In my mind, I thought, “Here we go again. Dad does it again, playing the role of the good guy.” Last month, after receiving my paycheck, I’d finally saved up enough to buy the house I’d been eyeing for a long time. It was a house near a good school district. The first thing I did after buying the house was call my mom, wanting to share this good news with her. But after hearing my words, my mom warned me, “You should hide it from your father. Don’t let him know you bought the house. You know how he is. If he finds out, he’ll want to give it away to someone else.” We all knew that my dad would do everything within or without his power to help others. A long time ago, when our neighbor’s son couldn’t find a job after graduating, my father didn’t hesitate to give away my mother’s job. At that time, my mother had just given birth to my sister Lynne and was resting at home. Without saying a word, my father handed over her job. When my mother found out, she went crazy, demanding that he get it back. But my father was reluctant, mumbling, “We’re neighbors. What’s wrong with helping each other out? It’s already done. How can I ask for it back? What kind of man would I be? And besides, I have a job. You can stay home and take care of the kids.” My mother glanced at my baby sister, crying in her arms, then at me, bent over at the table doing my homework, and said nothing. However, after that, my father didn’t take his work seriously anymore. He started showing up late, leaving early and kept making mistakes in his work. Eventually, the company lost a major contract because of him. His boss had had enough and fired him. That year, my sister fell ill and needed to be hospitalized. My mother, holding the bank card, stared at it in disbelief. She was told that there wasn’t a penny left. It turned out that my father had loaned it all out to “help” others. He had given away all our savings. My mother had to go door to door, begging them to return the money. However, by the time she got the money back, it was too late. She had to watch helplessly as my sister died in her arms. When we got home, my father raged at my mother, blaming her for asking others for money. He said she had embarrassed him. After I bought the house, I took my mother’s advice and didn’t even post about it on Twitter, so when my father called my company and asked me to go home, I had no idea how my father found out about it. It seemed like Terry was afraid I wouldn’t give it to them, and he smiled, “I know you just bought the house, and it’s not renovated yet. Don’t worry about that. We’ll handle the renovations ourselves. When Percy gets married, he’ll thank you properly.” I was stunned, thinking, “What kind of nonsense was that?” I opened my mouth, wanting to say something. I couldn’t figure out how someone could be so shameless. He was the one who wanted someone else’s house, and yet he made it sound like I was taking advantage of him. He wanted to take my house, which was worth 1.6 million dollars, and he thought that all he had to do was say thank you? I looked at the two of them sitting on the sofa, and suddenly, I laughed. “Fine. You can have the house. “It is worth one million and six hundred thousand dollars. Do you want to pay it by card or in cash?”

My father’s face immediately darkened, and he slammed his hand on the table. “Rosina, how dare you say that? Is giving the house to Percy so hard for you? Don’t you know you should support your family? “Do you really think it’s appropriate to ask your uncle for that much money? How heartless can you be? I’m not dead yet! This family is still under my control! Now go give your house to Percy!” I thought, “It’s easy for you, huh?” I had already seen the pattern. I knew that my father would give anything that wasn’t his to others without hesitation. My house was like the job he gave away from my mother and the money he loaned out from our savings. He’d give away whatever others wanted. Other people’s problems always came first. If the neighbor’s water pipe broke, he would get out of bed in the middle of the night to fix it. If the streetlight outside someone’s house went out, he would change it promptly, even in the dead of night. Everyone thought my mom had married a “family-oriented” man, and they called my father the local “good guy”. When my mom married him, it seemed like she was in for a life of comfort. Unfortunately, things didn’t develop that way. At our own house, my dad just gave us the runaround. When my mom asked him to do something, he always said, “I’ll take care of it soon,” but he never actually did. Later, my mom broke her leg going upstairs in the dark, and he didn’t bother to replace the light bulb. When I finally made it to college, just before tuition was due, my father gave my tuition money to a friend’s kid instead. That man was hardly his friend, it was just someone he knew from the bar. When it was time for me to pay my tuition, he couldn’t come up with the money. After he couldn’t hide it any longer, he finally admitted he’d lent it to a person who was almost a stranger. It was a sunny September day, but after hearing his words, my mother and I were drenched in cold sweat. At that time, we were outside, surrounded by many people. My mother grabbed my father by the collar and glared at him. “Did you give the money away again? That is Rosina’s tuition!” My father looked everywhere but at us, too guilty to speak. My mother and I cried helplessly at the gate of the university, and it was only with the help of a senior that I managed to apply for a student loan and finally got into university. I never understood why people always called my father a “good man”. They said it with smiles, but there was always a mocking undertone. It was as I grew up that I understood why my mother became more and more silent when she heard someone else say that and why everyone’s face always had that same sarcastic expression when they talked about my father. Now, he was attempting to win favor by pretending to be generous with my house. Hearing my father’s words, Terry sighed and patted him on the shoulder. “It’s okay. I understand if Rosina doesn’t want to give it to us. Everyone knows you’re the kindest person around, a real friend. That’s why I came to you for help. Since it isn’t your call, we’ll let it go. Percy’s wedding can be delayed for a few years.” The more he said, the lower my father’s head dropped and the angrier he looked at me. I couldn’t help but let out a cold laugh. “Uncle Terry, you should know better. As Percy’s father, you are responsible for getting him the house. I have never heard anyone come to their niece for a house. If I give you my house, people would think Percy is my son!” No sooner had I finished speaking than my father slapped me across the face. “How dare you talk like that to your uncle? How dare you call Percy your son? It’s just a house! How dare you disobey your father? “Rosina, as long as I’m alive, I’m the one in charge of this house! You’re going to give that house to Percy whether you like it or not!” Looking at my father, all righteous and indignant, I trembled with anger. “If he wants the house, let him buy it himself! I’m not giving it!” No wonder my mom had warned me so many times not to let my dad know about the house. She had already predicted someone would come asking for it. It had always been like this. Whenever anyone had a problem, they’d come to my father, and he wouldn’t turn anyone down. He was known as Mr. Nice Guy, but in reality, people saw him as a pushover.

After I left home, I stood on the street and called my mom to tell her what had happened. She sighed on the other end of the line. “Your dad won’t give up. He hates being called a hypocrite. Don’t go back home for now. Why don’t you come to stay with me for a few days instead?” I thought for a moment and said no. Maybe it was because my mom had put up with my father so much for so long. By the time I went to college, my mom finally exploded. After I was settled in, she and my dad had a huge argument. That same day, they went to file for divorce. By the time I was in my third year of college, my mom had remarried. Now, it didn’t feel quite right to visit her. I hesitated for a long while, and in the end, I rented a small apartment near my company. I knew I couldn’t go back to live at home. When my parents divorced, my dad’s sole stipulation was that I should live with him, ensuring that I would take care of him when he was old. He wanted me to live with him solely for his own benefit. I thought that if I just kept my distance, it would be fine. But I had seriously underestimated how far my dad was willing to go to maintain his image of the “good guy” in front of others. One day, while I was at work, I received a call from the property management of my house. I hadn’t been back home for a long time because of the house situation. They had been quiet these past few days. After I scolded them once, they didn’t bother me again. I really thought they had given up on trying to take my house. But when I heard what the person on the phone said, I realized just how naive I had been. “Ms. Davidson, a gentleman who claims to be your father is here with a group of people and is demanding that we open your door. Do you know about this?” My head was spinning. After days of work, I felt dizzy at this news. I didn’t expect they would be so crazy. “Don’t open the door. Stop them. I’ll be there soon.” I took the rest of the day off and rushed back to my house. When I arrived, the scene at the door was chaos. “Why won’t you open the door? If you don’t, I’ll file a complaint! I’m her father. Don’t I have the right to enter my daughter’s house? “If you don’t open it, I’ll have my daughter fire you!” There was pushing and shoving. The situation was quickly spiraling out of control. I walked over and stood in front of the door, coldly eyeing the crowd. “What do you think you’re doing?” My dad looked guilty. He couldn’t bring himself to look at me and remained silent. “Ah, so this is Rosina. Long time no see. “When you were little, your dad always said you’d do well in school and have a bright future. He even said you’d help our family one day. Looks like he was right!” I looked at the man speaking with a cold gaze. I gave him a once-over before dismissively looking away. Judging by his tone and the people around him, I could tell this was Percy, the son of Terry, the one who was getting married. “What are you doing here?” I asked coldly. He chuckled, running his hands through his greasy hair. “We’re here to take over the house!” For a moment, I was stunned, unable to process what he meant. “This is my house,” I said slowly, still trying to wrap my head around it. “Well, I should really thank you and Uncle Henley for this,” he said. “If Uncle Henley hadn’t agreed to give me this house, I wouldn’t have been able to get married! We’re just here to see how we’ll renovate it. “By the way, Rosina, the property management here is really unreliable! They block us at the door. Once we move in, I’m going to file a complaint!” At that moment, everything clicked. My dad had decided to act first and deal with the consequences later!

I took a deep breath at the door, trying to calm myself. I’d been working overtime for days. The sudden anger made my heart ache. My dad stood in front of me. “Rosina, look, everyone’s here now. You should open the door so they can come in. We can’t just let everyone stand out here, can we?” His words were the final straw. Terry’s wife, Martha Davidson, who had been standing beside him, squeezed past and grabbed my hand, her eyes filled with barely contained mockery and glee. “Exactly! I’ve always said that you two are nice people. No one in this whole area can match your generosity! “Your dad’s been helping so many people over the years, and he’s basically a saint! Who knows, he might even end up in the county history book!” She spoke the words as if they were compliments, but all I could think of was the memory of her laughing behind our backs, calling us “goody-goody”. I sneered. Slowly, I pulled my hand out of her grasp. “Did you hear that, Rosina? Open the door and let everyone in! You are my daughter, and you should be more considerate of others! “You really shouldn’t be so money-obsessed! Don’t make such a big deal out of it. When family or friends are in need, you should always lend a hand.” I was stunned. I didn’t know how I could have given him the impression that I was so money-obsessed. I raised an eyebrow, my gaze cold as ice. I took a slow breath and said, “If I give you the house, where can I live?” I wanted to see how shameless they could get. As expected, their faces lit up at my words. They thought I’d finally agreed to give them the house. They smiled wider, pretending to care about me. “You’re so successful, so why would you need this house? You could easily buy another one!” “We won’t just take it from you. After Percy gets married and has a kid, his kid will take care of you in your old age. You’ll be their favorite aunt!” “But, you’ll need to help take care of the kid. You can pay for things like formula, diapers, and the tuition fees.” I felt they were all out of their minds. I thought, “If money is so easy to make, why don’t you buy your own house?” Meanwhile, my dad stood to the side, soaking up their praise, his head swelling with every compliment. He looked like he was floating on air. “Did you hear that, Rosina? Hurry up and let us in!” I thought, “Oh, he likes being the good guy, doesn’t he? Fine. Let’s see how generous you are when it comes to your own benefit!” “But Uncle Terry, taking my house won’t do you any good,” I said with a sly smile. “Why not take my dad’s instead? Haven’t you heard? They’re planning to demolish that neighborhood. That house is worth over ten million dollars now!” The words hit them like a thunderclap.

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One day, I accidentally shipped a dress I bought online to my old home address. Soon, my brother’s wife, Bella, started sniping in the family chat. [I thought this dress was a gift for me! Who asks for something back after sending it out? That’s just petty.] I tried to explain, but her mockery only grew. [No wonder you’re still unmarried at thirty. Always being so petty. No man likes that] Her harsh words surprised me. Well, if that’s the case, I might as well reclaim the house, too. [Wow, Sandra, nice taste. The dress looks great, just a bit small for me.] One day, Bella popped up in my chat while I was busy at work. I opened the photo she sent. There she was, wearing the dress I had bought for myself a few days ago. It suddenly hit me; I forgot to update the shipping address after sending her a gift last time. No wonder I hadn’t received my parcel. I quickly sent her the correct address to return the dress. Bella deflated: [Come on. You could at least keep track of your addresses.] I apologized immediately, noting how much she liked the dress. To make up for the confusion, I ordered another one in her size as a surprise. Bella didn’t respond after receiving the new address. I thought she was just busy, but two hours later, she posted the tracking number in the family chat with thirty-something members and targeted me. [Sandra, I’ve sent the dress back. Next time you send something to someone’s house, don’t ask for it back. Try to be more generous; being so petty isn’t attractive.] Her sudden snide tone took me aback. After all, she had always been kind to me. Anger bubbled up as I processed her words, but since we were family, I kept my cool and explained. [Bella, I simply forgot to change the address after buying your birthday gift. The dress isn’t even the right fit. If you see something you like, send me the link, and I’ll buy it as an apology.] Instead of calming down, she accused me of mocking her: [You’re thirty and still not married. There’s definitely something wrong with your character. I’m just trying to remind you, and here you are, keeping score with gifts and dresses. You say we’re family, but you clearly keep a tally.] Her lecture made my blood boil. What did she mean by ‘keeping score’? Not to mention the numerous gifts and substantial skincare products I’d sent her way. And the house they were living in? I had bought it with my savings after graduation. With my constant travels for work, the house remained unoccupied. My brother Mike, a lowlife drifter always between jobs and borrowing money, made living unstable for his family. His son, Rick, was already in middle school, yet they still didn’t have a place to live. Unable to bear seeing Bella upset and crying so often, I offered them the house to stabilize their lives. Already frustrated with work, Bella’s antics pushed me over the edge. In a moment of anger, I typed in the chat: [If I really were petty, I wouldn’t have lent you the house.] Then, I immediately canceled the new dress order I’d made for her. Bella exploded: [My son is about to marry a rich woman, and soon we’ll be living in a mansion. We don’t care about your crappy place!] I’d heard all about how Bella boasted everywhere that Rick had snagged a wealthy girlfriend, putting on airs like she was already some high-society mother-in-law. I shot back: [Then move out now!] That silenced her in the group chat. By the time I finished my work, night had fallen. As I looked at the quiet family chat, I regretted my impulsive words. Then Mike called, tentatively probing, “Sandra, where’s the deed to the house you lent us?” Alarmed, I asked, “What’s up, Mike?” His tone was suddenly bold, as if someone was backing him. He blurted, “We’ve been here nearly ten years, and we’re attached to the house. Since you’re not married, just transfer it to us. For years, we’ve watched you struggle alone, so we never wanted to quibble over a name on a deed. Yet you had to argue with Bella this afternoon. She’s been upset all day, feeling insecure.” My fists clenched as he added, “We’ll even pay the transfer fees. Just pay us back when you get your salary.” I was furious. The cold realization that my generosity had been met with such calculation was chilling. It seemed too much goodwill couldn’t guarantee a good ending. I wiped away the last shred of remorse from my heart Sternly, I commanded, “Move out of the house within two days.”

Upon learning I was reclaiming the house, Bella exploded in the family chat that evening: [You’re still so young. How can you be so vindictive?] [Why can’t you give Mike the house since you don’t use it? You’re his sister!] [I haven’t lived even a single day of good life since I married Mike. And now you’re driving us out? You want us dead or what?] Her hysteria in the voice messages clashed starkly with the demure Bella, who had initially asked to stay in my house. I found it ridiculous and retorted: [I didn’t force you to marry into the family. You should be confronting whoever is making you suffer.] [And aren’t you supposed to be moving into a mansion soon?] Mike, feeling embarrassed, immediately jumped in. [Sandra, how can you speak to Bella like that?] Other relatives chimed in to defend Mike and Bella. My uncle angrily commented: [Sandra, you’re an adult. Why can’t you act like one?] My eldest uncle added: [They are a family of three under much pressure. It’s harder for them than for you.] My dad reproached: [Bella is just trying to teach you manners. Let it go. Don’t create a scene here.] I laughed off the absurdity. In this world, the weak always appeared righteous, claiming moral high ground while leeching off others. It seemed to help people could really turn into enemies. With how easily everyone was speaking, I replied with clapping emojis and proposed: [Since you all pity Bella’s family so much, why don’t you take them in?] [Let them stay with my uncle on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays; with my eldest uncle on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays; and visit my dad on Sundays.] If no one was going to help me close the windows, I might as well break the ceiling and get us all wet. The chat instantly fell silent. To prevent my dad from interfering during the move, I called him and sternly reminded him. “Dad, before you help Mike, think about whether you’ll rely on him in your old age.” After my mom’s death, my dad blatantly favored my brother. Last year, he wanted me to pay off Mike’s gambling debts, so I cut his allowance for three months. He quickly fell into line. Thinking of Mike’s behavior, my dad remained silent. As the mud threatened to splash onto themselves, everyone suddenly learned to step aside. The chat remained dead silent. Seeing no one defending them, Mike and Bella angrily left the group. I checked Bella’s profile and discovered she had blocked me. Their behavior indicated they planned to squat in the house indefinitely. I lacked the patience for that and booked a moving service online for Bella’s family the next day. If they refused to leave, I would have them moved. On the morning of the next day, I received the cash-on-delivery package from Bella. The courier approached me with a bill. “Hello, that’ll be 307 for the shipping fee.” I was shocked. “Just for a dress?” The courier struggled with a cart from behind, pulling out a huge box, which I sliced open with a knife. Inside, the dress was cut to shreds. Bella deliberately soaked to increase its weight and wrapped around a massive stone. Even the courier couldn’t help but curse, “That’s just malicious.” As I was calming down from this incident, the moving company called me via video. “Ms. Pearson… is there anything left to move in this house?” I was puzzled. Had Bella’s family moved out on their own accord? The mover’s camera swung to the front door, and I was stunned. Bella and her family had indeed moved out early, but where was my door?

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On the day my usually well-behaved son killed his classmate and jumped off the rooftop of his school, my sister was frantic, making hundreds of calls and even contacting my husband to involve the police, urging me to identify his body. I, his biological mother, was in no rush. Instead, I ordered a fried chicken feast and casually watched TV. In my previous life, I had poured everything into raising my son, Gabriel. I nurtured him with care and love, molding him into a humble, bright, and kind-hearted young man. I ensured he had a healthy diet, tended to his every need, and was physically perfect without a single scar on his skin. Yet, on the day of the SATs, he killed his classmate Logan and leaped from the rooftop of Ashwood High School. When I rushed to the scene, devastated, my younger sister Lauren suddenly broke down, accusing me of abusing Gabriel for 18 years. She cried loudly, claiming I had caused his death. The coroner lifted the shroud covering Gabriel’s body, revealing scars of varying ages. My husband, Nathan, erupted in rage, releasing videos of me strictly disciplining Gabriel. The internet exploded in outrage, painting me as a monster. Online hatred culminated in strangers finding my location. Fueled by fury, they stabbed me ten times. I died in pieces, unable to understand: Why did my beloved son, whom I had never laid a finger on, end up killing someone, jumping to his death, and bearing scars I never inflicted? When I opened my eyes again, it was the day before Gabriel’s SATs. …… Content

“Abby, relax. Gabe’s a bright kid; tomorrow’s SATs will be a breeze. I bet he’ll get into Harvard without breaking a sweat.” Lauren, my sister, patted my back with a warm smile, offering kind words. I froze for a moment. The phantom pain of ten stab wounds in my abdomen lingered, making my head spin. The shock of Gabriel’s broken body and the agony of being murdered left my vision bloodshot. Lauren pulled me into a hug. “You’re so stressed out. Just stay home and rest. You’ll only distract him if you go over there.” “Trust me, Abby. Tomorrow, you’ll see that all your hard work will pay off. Gabe’s going to make you proud.” Her words, full of confidence, left me trembling. The surreal feeling of déjà vu was overwhelming. Lauren was my only family left. We had always been close, so I could never have imagined that in my past life, she would stand by Gabriel’s shattered body and accuse me of abuse. I pushed her away gently, my eyes red but my smile firm. “Fine. We’ll wait and see.” I swore I would save my son and uncover the truth. In my previous life, I had listened to Lauren’s advice. To avoid distracting Gabe, I stayed home. I even bought him a Lego set and Universal Studios tickets as a surprise for when the exams were over. I had poured years of careful attention and boundless love into raising Gabe. As a full-time mom, I devoted my every moment to him. With Nathan always busy with work, I took it upon myself to manage everything for our son. I never let Gabe do chores, encouraging him to exercise while I handled everything at home. I cooked him balanced, nutritious meals, tailoring them to his tastes. I even studied various subjects to help him whenever he struggled. I raised him as a kind, moral, and brilliant young man—every parent’s dream child. On the day of the SATs, I was full of hope, waiting outside the exam hall. Instead of my smiling son, I was met with his broken body, unrecognizable after the fall. I collapsed, heartbroken. Lauren wailed beside me, accusing me, “Abby, why did you push Gabe so hard? Did his grades matter more than his happiness?” “You hit him and stressed him out so much that he killed someone and jumped off a building. Are you happy now?” I crumpled to the ground, pale and speechless. Around us, the parents of other students murmured harshly: “So that’s how her kid was so perfect. She must’ve been ruthless. No wonder he jumped.” “Poor boy. And what about the classmate he killed? What a tragedy.” Their cruel words were unbearable. My son’s success had already drawn jealousy, but now their malice was like a tidal wave. Nathan arrived, furious. He shoved me to the ground and, in front of everyone, played a video from our home cameras. In it, I was sternly telling Gabe to finish his homework before playing video games. That single clip unleashed a storm of hatred online. People branded me a tyrant who had robbed Gabe of his freedom. Driven by blind rage, strangers found my address. They stabbed me repeatedly. The physical pain paled in comparison to the agony of losing my son and being betrayed by those I loved most. I couldn’t comprehend why my cheerful, kind-hearted son had done such terrible things before taking his own life. I had to stop this from happening. I needed to go to Ashwood High School and prevent him from killing Logan. I needed to rewrite this tragedy.

Gabriel’s school had a rule: Students had to stay in the dorms for a week before the SATs. Lauren kept insisting I stay home and not bother Gabe. I forced a smile and agreed. “Alright, you go ahead. Tomorrow, we’ll pick Gabe up together.” She smiled warmly, giving me a reassuring hug. “Everything will be okay.” In my previous life, she had always supported me with kind words. After our parents passed, I dropped out of school early to work and support her education. My life before raising Gabe had been dedicated to her. Yet, in the end, she publicly accused me, revealing mysterious scars on her own body. “Abby, you used to beat me too. How could you do the same to your son?” Her accusations were a knife to my heart. Watching Lauren’s car drive away, I changed into fresh clothes and raced to my garage. The thought of Gabe’s broken body tortured me, making me slam the gas pedal. When I arrived at Ashwood High School Dormitory, I rushed to the entrance, where Mrs. Spencer, the dorm supervisor, stopped me. “Whoa there! Parents aren’t allowed in. It’s SAT week!” “Please, I need to see my son. It’s urgent!” I pleaded desperately. She shook her head. “Rules are rules. I can’t let you in.” I relented and asked if she could call Gabe down instead. Soon, I heard footsteps on the stairs. When I saw Gabe alive and standing before me, my tears fell uncontrollably. I grabbed his hands, trembling, and asked, “Have I ever made you unhappy with how strict I’ve been?” Gabe looked confused. “Mom, what’s wrong? Of course not. I know you’ve done so much for me, especially with Dad working so much. The least I can do is study hard to repay you.” He smiled and hugged me. “Tomorrow’s the SATs. Don’t worry. I’ll make you proud.” Shaking, I asked, “How are things with your classmates? If there’s anything wrong, you can tell me.” He looked puzzled. “Everything’s fine, Mom. I get along great with everyone.” Gabe had always been well-liked, playing basketball with his friends and being kind to everyone. So why would he ever kill someone? I stroked his hair. “Alright. I’ll stay at a hotel nearby and meet you first thing tomorrow, okay?” “Okay, Mom.” He gave me a curious look but agreed. As I watched his tall figure disappear up the stairs, I wondered. At eighteen, he was strong and confident. There was no way he was being bullied. So why would he murder Logan and then jump to his death? I couldn’t figure it out. Bound by the school’s rules, I booked a room at The Elmwood Inn, overlooking the exam hall. That night, I sat wide-eyed, unable to sleep. The following day, I watched Gabe enter the exam hall. Everything was calm until the final ten minutes. For a moment, I closed my eyes. But when I opened them again, I saw Gabe standing on the hallway ledge, holding a bloodied knife. His face twisted in agony as tears streamed down. I could see his lips moving, shouting something I couldn’t hear. Then he climbed the railing. The memory of his shattered body from my past life flashed through my mind. “No!” I screamed, my voice cracking with despair.

But he couldn’t hear me. He shouted something I couldn’t make out, then suddenly leaned forward and vaulted over the railing. I saw his tall, sunny figure plummet like a kite with its string cut, crashing to the ground below. I opened my mouth to scream, but no sound came out. A metallic taste rose in my throat, and I coughed up blood. Staring at the distant ground where my son lay, I was thrown back to the memory of my previous death—stabbed ten times by enraged strangers. My fingers gripped the railing as I followed Gabe’s path, leaping off without hesitation. The impact shattered my bones, and I felt my insides heave up through my throat in a wave of iron-sweet pain. When I opened my eyes again, I was standing by the window of my house. Down below, I could hear the hum of an engine as Lauren’s car prepared to leave. I clenched my fists as if bracing myself for an irreversible decision. I drove straight to Ashwood High School, reaching Gabe’s dormitory without delay. This time, I demanded that Mrs. Spencer bring him down. When Gabe appeared, I didn’t exchange pleasantries. I grabbed his hand and said, “You’re coming home with me.” He stared at me, shocked. “Mom, the SATs are tomorrow. Are you feeling alright? Do you have a fever?” He reached out to touch my forehead. I caught his hand. “Gabe, I’ve let you make your own decisions for years, but you’re going to listen to me this time.” Mrs. Spencer looked baffled and stepped forward. “Ma’am, you’ve got to be kidding. You’re pulling him out the night before the SATs?” I brushed past her. “I’m his parent. I have the right to take him.” Her jaw dropped. “With a mom like you, no wonder the kid’s doomed.” Gabe frowned but followed me home, clearly confused. “Mom, what’s going on? You’re acting like a completely different person.” “In my eyes, you’ve always been calm, graceful, and composed. I’ve never seen you like this before.” For years, I had solved every problem independently, never raising my voice or losing control. Now, I didn’t know how to explain to him that his life was at stake. Tears streamed down my face as I asked, “Tell me the truth. Have I ever pushed you too hard? Are you unhappy?” He hesitated, thinking. “Well, of course, there were times it was hard, but when I saw my grades improve, I felt good about it.” I hugged him tightly. “But Gabe, I’ve realized none of that matters. All I want is for you to be happy and healthy.” His confusion deepened. “Mom, I am happy.” I couldn’t hold it in any longer. “Gabe, is there something you’re hiding from me? Please, just tell me!” Startled by my outburst, he shook his head. “Mom, you’re scaring me. Are you okay?” He brought me a glass of milk. “I’ll stay home tonight to calm you down, but tomorrow, I’m still taking the SATs.” I forced a smile and nodded. That night, I sat outside his bedroom, watching him sleep. Each time I closed my eyes, I saw him crying on that rooftop, jumping to his death. The SATs were the culmination of years of hard work. But what were their grades compared to his life? I grabbed his exam folder in the living room and tore his admission ticket. As long as tomorrow passed, Gabe would survive. I leaned against his bedroom door and closed my eyes. I was startled awake by the sound of shattering glass. Lightning flashed outside, illuminating the window, and rain poured down in torrents. Gabe was standing on the windowsill, his figure silhouetted against the storm. He turned to look at me, his eyes filled with despair, tears streaming down his face. He forced a smile in the rain, then fell backward into the darkness. I lunged forward, screaming, “No!” But all I heard was the sickening thud of his body hitting the ground. I collapsed, sobbing, “Why? I brought you home. Why couldn’t I save you?” Despite everything I’d done—even giving up his SATs—he still chose this path.

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I found myself inside a story, tasked with saving my mother from domestic abuse, only to face her relentless disdain because I resembled my father. When I shielded her from my father’s blows, she pushed me away. “You’re disgusting with your fake concern,” she’d hiss. I worked tirelessly to ensure she could live comfortably, yet she lounged through book clubs without care. “If it weren’t for having you, I wouldn’t have ended up like this. Your hard work is what you owe me.” One day, the system informed me I could go home. I stopped sacrificing for her and nagging her to take care of herself. That’s when she began to panic. Content “They’re saying Felicity Archer is repeating her senior year for the third time! What’s the point? That girl’s a lost cause!” “And her mom? I can’t figure her out either. She’s got such a brilliant, hardworking younger daughter but insists on pampering the older one. How many years has she wasted babysitting her through school?” News of my sister Felicity repeating her senior year spread like wildfire through Oakwood Subdivision, where gossip was practically the local pastime. Everyone knew Felicity was good at drinking, fighting, and making trouble—anything but schoolwork. But my mom was stubborn. No matter how many years it took, Felicity had to get into an Ivy League school. Why? Because I, Savannah Harper, already had. Felicity was my mom’s daughter from her first marriage. Her father, George Archer, had passed away from an illness, and my mom remarried my dad, Thomas Harper. Then I came along. The difference between Felicity and me couldn’t be more obvious. Felicity was the diamond, and I was the grass beneath her feet. But my dad didn’t treat her well. He was an abusive, alcoholic wreck. No matter how much I tried to protect Felicity, standing between her and the violence, she still hated me. In her eyes, my blood—his blood—made me just like him. I couldn’t measure up to even a fraction of her in my mom’s eyes. When I got home from my job at Uncle Jerry’s Smokehouse, the smell of BBQ clung to me like a second skin. When I walked through the door, my mom sprayed air freshener at me, scrunching her nose. “Why do you always have to make things worse? Out of all the places to work, you pick the smokiest one. Can’t you learn from Felicity and take care of your appearance?” I raised my arms without a word, letting her do her thing. She seemed to have forgotten everything I’d done since she divorced my dad—her depression, Felicity’s constant brawls. I’d lost countless part-time jobs running around trying to fix their lives. Only Uncle Jerry was kind enough to keep me on. Not only was I paying for our living expenses, but I was also covering for Felicity’s constant messes. This time, I was scrambling because rent was due soon. I scrubbed my skin raw in the shower, hoping to wash away the smoky smell. When we first moved here, neighbors praised my mom for raising two kids so well. They called her strong and independent. But behind her back, they whispered about me, the skinny one. “She should give that one away, sell her even. Wouldn’t drag the family down.” But the one earning money? That was me. The one keeping the family afloat? Also me. The one who took the hits when my dad returned, fists flying? Still me. When I first arrived in this world, my mom was kind. She’d sing me lullabies and sneak me food. But as I grew older and my features took after my father’s, her gaze twisted into something unrecognizable. Her hatred for him? It found its outlet in me. Just last night, the system informed me my dad had drunk himself to death. The threat was finally gone. I was free to leave. As water streamed down my face, I closed my eyes. Soon, this nightmare would be over. A knock interrupted my thoughts. “I heard someone saw Felicity at The Silver Oak Bar tonight. Just… cover for me, will you? I need to go get her.” “And about your birthday… well, you understand, right? That kind of place isn’t safe…” I dried my face, catching my calm reflection in the mirror. “Take care of yourself,” I replied evenly. The silhouette outside the door froze.

“You’ve grown up, Savannah.” Yeah, I used to argue with her. Plead with her to stop sacrificing herself for Felicity. But now? I felt nothing. I slowly dressed, stepped out, and walked past my mom into the kitchen. It’s time to make some pancakes for myself. It was funny. My birthday was the same as my real-life one. We could celebrate. My mom followed me, hesitated, then spoke. “Careful not to burn yourself.” I nodded indifferently. I was here because of a car accident. The Taskkeeper Program told me if I completed my mission, I could wake up again. I couldn’t bear losing my real family, so I agreed. When I arrived, Savannah Harper was seven years old. Even then, she knew how to cook and clean like it was muscle memory—skills that passed on to me. I went from the pampered Gabrielle Hackett to Savannah, who could chop vegetables blindfolded and endure beatings without crying. But that simple “be careful”… That was the first time I’d heard those words from her in over a decade. My mom left in a hurry, forgetting her purse. When she came back and saw me eating, she froze. Ignoring her, I continued. She finally spoke through gritted teeth. “I spoke to your teacher. For Felicity, a tutoring program might help. About your paycheck…” I looked up. I’d lost count of how many times this had happened. At first, she’d made excuses, promising to save the money for me. But it always turned into new dresses for Felicity. Later, she stopped pretending, demanding I hand it over outright. And so I did—rent, groceries, even trash bags. I came home from a late shift, splashed cold water on my face more nights than I could count, and headed straight to school. Half the time, I’d fall asleep in class, earning detention notices my mom ignored. The day she told my teacher, “I don’t care about that kid. Do whatever you want with her,” I copied lines until 4 a.m. That shift cost me my third job. Returning home, the fridge was empty as always. Not even leftovers. Every dollar I handed over ended up on Felicity—her new shoes, her shiny hair clips. At first, I protested. Now, I was numb. “Because you have his blood!” she’d scream. “Everything you do, you owe me!” I stood, staring into her tired, lined face. Before she could speak, I pulled out a small bundle from my pocket—all the money I had left. It didn’t matter. I couldn’t take it back to the real world anyway. I washed my dishes and left her stunned in the kitchen, unsure what to do.

After washing the dishes, I turned to find my mom still staring at me. Confused, I asked, “If you don’t leave now, Felicity will sneak off again.” She blinked as if snapping out of a daze, her brow furrowing. “Savannah Harper, are you doing this to spite me?” There was a time when I might have been. I used to argue with her, pleading for her to wake up. I’d tell her Felicity was an adult who needed to take responsibility for herself. “It’s not a parent’s job to shield their child from every mistake,” I’d say. “You’re only pushing her further away. Some lessons, she’ll have to learn the hard way.” But she’d fly into a rage, grabbing whatever was nearby to hit me with. “Savannah, you’re just jealous of your sister!” she’d scream. “You’re so twisted with envy I don’t even know how you turned out like this!” Over time, the whispers from neighbors and relatives grew louder. “She’s just a jealous, bitter child,” they’d say. During holidays, they’d quietly tell my mom, “Stop being so nice. You should send her away. It’s better for everyone.” But I was the family’s breadwinner. She’d never send me away, no matter how much she wanted to. And now, when I finally kept quiet, I was still in the wrong. I shook my head, denying her accusation. Her frustration boiled over. She slammed her hand on the table. “If you hadn’t gotten sick during Felicity’s SATs, she wouldn’t have been so worried she missed the test!” “You owe her so much. What’s wrong with making it up to her?” I couldn’t help but laugh. This argument had become a broken record, played too many times for me to muster anger. Felicity missing her SATs was my fault. Felicity dating troublemakers? My fault for being a bad influence. Felicity sneaking off to bars? My fault for being too annoying at home. Everything was my fault. The truth? She overslept the morning of her SATs. I had been delirious with a fever so high I couldn’t move, begging her to bring me a glass of water. The test had already started when she finally came to check on me. And her dating history? Her so-called boyfriend was a notorious delinquent at school. I overheard her bragging to friends about how being with him made every girl step aside for her. As for the bars, I was too busy juggling work and school to be in her way. But no matter how often I explained, my mom refused to listen, drowning me with blame. Honestly, I could understand. After two failed marriages, she needed someone to focus her anger on. But I was tired. I’m too tired to defend myself anymore. I met her gaze evenly. “Felicity missed the SATs because she overslept. She barely even attended class. Do you think she’d have done well even if she showed up?” Years ago, Felicity’s teachers constantly called my mom in for meetings. Afterward, she sat on the couch, staring into space. I’d try to comfort her, holding her hand. She’d sigh, “Savannah, just try to make things easier for me, okay?” So, I worked even harder—studying as fiercely as I worked to earn money. I soaked up knowledge like a sponge, determined to grow beyond my circumstances. When I handed her my college acceptance letter, I expected pride. Instead, she looked at me with resentment I didn’t understand. “Felicity doesn’t have a future like this. Why should you?” She only stopped short of tearing it up because I was sobbing and begging her not to. Even then, she made it clear she wouldn’t support me going. All I had wanted was a simple “well done.” Her scales had tipped so far in Felicity’s favor that not even a grain of recognition was left for me. She blinked, startled by my directness. Before she could speak again, I walked into my room, grabbed a stack of tutoring program pamphlets, and handed them to her. “These look good. You should check them out.” Then I ushered her toward the door. She clung to the frame, her fingers turning white. “I’ll make you a roast chicken for dinner when I return, okay? For your birthday.”

I’d heard promises like that more times than I could count. “Score in the top ten, and I’ll get you that doll.” “When Felicity’s tired of her dresses, you can have them.” “After we return from the store, I’ll bring you some candy.” At first, I believed her. Then, I learned the truth. Empty words to soothe a child. But it didn’t matter. I was going home soon. With thoughts of my real family, my eyes stung with tears as I fell asleep. The following day, I went to take out the trash. Voices drifted from the street. “My son didn’t come home again last night,” one neighbor said. “I called him, and he said that troublemaker from the Harper house got into another fight at the bar. A bunch of them caused a stir at the police station!” “Had him working overtime cleaning up the mess,” she continued. “If I were Savannah’s mom, I’d have kicked her out ages ago. But Marilyn spoils her rotten.” “Marilyn even apologized for her last night! She was on her knees, begging the other party for forgiveness. And that girl just ran off again!” “Can you imagine? What a shame.” Ms. Clara nudged Ms. Nora’s arm when she noticed me. “You shouldn’t be saying this in front of her.” But Ms. Nora waved her off. “What does it matter? Everyone knows the Harper kids. One’s a troublemaker, and the other’s a quiet little doormat.” They weren’t entirely wrong. I wasn’t always this quiet. When I laughed, Mom called me annoying and threw things at me to shut me up. When I cried, she said I was bringing bad vibes into the house. Over time, I learned to be silent—a wooden doll that didn’t cry or laugh. Standing by the trash cans, I scuffed circles into the dirt with my toe, thinking. Then, without a word, I turned and walked away. Behind me, someone muttered, “There goes that little fool, off to bail her mom out again.” “She’s a good kid, though. Maybe life would be easier for her on her own.” But I wasn’t going to the police station. I went home. I gathered my uniform from Uncle Jerry’s Smokehouse off the line, neatly folded and clean with the scent of sunlight. I packed it carefully into a bag with a handwritten thank-you note and some candies—the best gift I could manage. Walking to the smokehouse, I found Mr. Jerry soaking in the sun by the door. With my first genuine smile in years, I handed him the bag. “Mr. Jerry, thank you for everything.” He ruffled my hair. “You’re a good kid, Savannah. I’m sure the road ahead will be smooth for you.” I nodded firmly. Behind me, I heard someone call softly, “Savannah?”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “295192”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster #现实主义Realistic #浪漫Romance #重生Reborn #校园School #励志Inspiring #惊悚Thriller