Author: Momo Chan

“Jack, I’m taking Emmy downstairs for a bit!” Standing by the door with Emily in her stroller, I took one last look back at Jack, sprawled on the couch watching the game, and silently said goodbye to him in my heart: Rest in peace, Jack. Returning to work after maternity leave, I couldn’t wait to see my baby girl. I gave my manager a quick heads-up and left early to head home. As I approached our front door, voices drifted out from inside. “Don’t worry. She won’t be back for at least another two hours.” That voice belonged to my husband, Jack Hale. “Right. Says the guy who ignored me for half an hour last night to rock his little princess to sleep,” a woman’s voice teased. My mind went blank as I heard Jack soothingly reply, “Once she’s gone, Emily will be your daughter, too. She’s a baby; she won’t know the difference. After all, if you’ve got milk, you’re the mom.” Then, I heard sounds that left no room for doubt. Frozen in place, the devastating truth settled over me. Jack was cheating on me. We’d known each other since high school, growing together from prom to wedding vows. After three years of marriage, our lives had settled into a routine. Jack quit his big tech job earlier this year to open Jack’s Hardware, aiming to help with Emmy after she was born and spare me from solo parenting. I’d cried at his thoughtfulness, and the shop had done well enough that he hired a part-time employee. He’d been a doting partner through my entire recovery. Just last night, we’d been planning our move to the new house we’d remodeled, where the paint fumes had finally aired out. But now, under the searing late-afternoon August sun, reality struck me harder than anything before. Standing outside, I waited until I saw a tall woman with wavy hair strut out of the building. I ducked behind a car, catching my reflection in its window, noting how pregnancy had altered my once-trim figure. I’d always taken pride in my looks. Jack had always said that whether we had a boy or a girl, he just wanted a child of his own. I’d endured countless shots to keep our baby healthy, ultimately blessed with Emmy. At nearly six, I entered our apartment with groceries in hand. Hearing the door, Jack padded out in his slippers. “Hey, hon! I made some iced green bean soup—it’s in the fridge if you want a bowl.” “Sure, I’ll take one.” As I switched my shoes, his words from earlier echoed in my mind: Once she’s gone. Jack wanted me dead. And not only had he cheated, but he was planning to kill me. Somehow, though, my shock turned to an eerie calmness. Over dinner, Jack mentioned his mom wanting to come help with Emmy since I was back at work, and he was juggling the store and caring for her. I thought for a moment, then replied, “There’s only one bed here. When your mom comes, there won’t be space. How about we just move into the new house now?” But Jack hesitated, “I’ll take the couch. It’s summer; I’ll be fine there. You two can use the bed.” I nodded, “Sure, it’ll be nice to have her help.” I’d always found it odd how Jack had been so reluctant to move into the new house, even though it was ready ages ago. Turns out, he’d been planning to get rid of me and move in with her. After Emmy was asleep, Jack handed me an insurance form to sign. He’d mentioned getting life insurance back when I was pregnant, saying we needed to think about Emmy’s future and that this would protect her in case anything happened. So, we both got policies listing Emily as the sole beneficiary. “All right, so if I die in an accident, it’s a million?” I tightened my fingers around the paper. Right then, Carol Wilson, our neighbor, popped by with a few peaches. “A friend of ours brought over a whole box. Too much for us, so we thought of you!” She glanced at the insurance paperwork on the coffee table. “What are you two up to?” “Oh, I’m just talking with Megan about getting a policy,” Jack said smoothly. “Aunt Carol, does it really pay out a million?” I said, feigning innocence. “Jack’s looked at a bunch of policies and keeps bugging me to sign it before prices go up.” Carol’s interest piqued. “Honey, insurance is a pain to pay, but it sure comes in handy when you need it. Just last year, my husband’s cancer was covered under his policy, and we got thirty grand from it.” Jack shot me a look that said, See? “I don’t know much about insurance, but Jack says it’ll give us peace of mind,” I shrugged. “But maybe I’ll study up on it first.” Carol nodded approvingly, “You’re right to think it through. Accident insurance isn’t like health insurance. You’re far more likely to get sick in your life than to get in an accident.” She didn’t notice Jack’s face freeze for a moment as she said it. “Insurance is just a safety net. You never know what might happen tomorrow,” Jack joked, glancing at me. “If I die, at least I’d leave you and Emmy a little something.” I punched his shoulder, “Quit saying stuff like that.” “Don’t tempt fate, Jack!” Carol said, waving us off with a chuckle as she left. That night, I headed to the bathroom. There was a faint humming noise coming from the water heater. Our building was old, built in the early 2000s, and all the units used electric water heaters. Ours was secondhand, bought from the last tenants, and I’d wanted to replace it last year, but we’d planned to move, so we let it be. Holding my toothbrush, I stared thoughtfully at the worn appliance. Back in bed, Jack was scrolling on his phone. When I walked over, he quickly set it face down. On the nightstand, a baby monitor showed Emmy’s crib. “Jack, you really want that insurance?” I asked, raising my voice a bit. Jack rolled over, “It’s a solid policy. I’m telling you…” He launched into a long list of benefits. I yawned, agreeing casually, “All right, sure. Too late now, though. Tomorrow, then.” “Great!” In the dim light, I caught the gleam of excitement in his eyes. The next morning, I headed downstairs for work. Jack hurried out, waving the insurance form, and caught me as I was about to leave. Right then, Carol and some other neighbors walked by, bags of groceries in hand. “What’s the rush, Jack?” Carol asked, eyeing the form in his hand. “Oh, it’s that insurance from last night. He just wants me to sign it,” I said, signing my name with a smile. “Can’t help it; he calls the shots around here. Gotta run—almost late!” Riding away on my e-bike, I caught sight of Jack in my mirror, holding the paper with a grin, even giving it a celebratory kiss. At work, I texted him: Jack, the water heater at home seems off. Can you check it? Ten minutes later, he replied: Sure, babe. Got it. His careless response was exactly as expected. He was probably daydreaming about his life after a million-dollar payout with his new woman, far too busy to worry about an eight-year-old water heater. What causes a water heater to explode? I typed into the search bar, read through the results, and then cleared my history.

At 5:30, Julie, the new intern, noticed I hadn’t budged. “Megan, aren’t you in a rush to get home and see Emmy?” “Oh, Jack’s with her,” I replied, showing the baby monitor app on my phone, where Jack was entertaining Emmy. “I figured I’d stay late and finish up my report.” Julie gave me a wistful smile. “Must be nice! One day, I’m finding a guy who’ll pull his weight with the baby, too!” I just smiled back. Starting today, I wanted everyone to know that Jack and I were the picture of domestic bliss. After wrapping up, I was about to leave when Greg Summers from IT walked over. “Hey, just a heads up—don’t use company computers for personal stuff right now.” “What’s going on?” I asked. “With last quarter’s slump, leadership’s monitoring web use more than usual, like to see if people are shopping or browsing news sites…” Greg trailed off, then asked, “By the way, what’s up with your water heater? Saw you searching about it.” My pulse raced, but I kept calm. Why should I be anxious? It was completely reasonable to check out potential safety issues with an old appliance. “Oh, I saw this video about a heater exploding, and it freaked me out a bit,” I replied casually. Greg nodded. “I think they say to replace them every eight years or so.” His phone buzzed, and he walked away. My fingers shook as I gathered my things to leave. By the time I got home, it was almost eight. Jack was taking photos of Emmy on the couch. When he noticed me, he quickly looked away, seeming almost flustered. “Is that new?” I pointed at the outfit Emmy was wearing. “Yeah, it arrived today,” he set the camera down. “Hungry? Let’s go grab some noodles from that place downstairs.” “When’d you get a new camera? You didn’t mention it.” I reached over to pick it up, flipping through the photos. The quality was so professional; Jack had clearly gotten good at composition. Jack hesitated, “Well, I didn’t want you to think I was wasting money… I wanted to capture Emmy’s moments, you know?” “You could’ve asked me instead of hiding it,” I said, continuing to look through the photos. Jack snatched the camera from my hands. “Hon, you’ve been working all day; don’t get worked up over a small thing. Let me make it up to you. Here, strike a pose for me!” Then, Emmy started fussing. I quickly scooped her up. “Could you take out the trash? And grab us two noodle bowls on your way back?” “Sure.” Jack reached for his phone. “Leave it charging,” I said, pulling out some cash. “Here, just use this.” He shrugged, took the money, and grabbed the trash. The moment he was out of sight, I unlocked his phone—password, Emmy’s birth date, worked on the first try. I’d never felt the need to check his phone before, but now, there was no hesitation. He’d been so sure I’d never intrude on his privacy. One contact caught my eye: “AAA Style Master Linda Cross.” Her latest message read: Hiking’s the easiest way to create a happy little ‘accident.’ There’s no… The rest was hidden, and since Jack hadn’t opened it, I couldn’t read further. But I didn’t need to; the picture was clear enough. With the policy signed, they’d locked and loaded. I placed his phone back and resumed scrolling through the camera, finding photos of Emmy bundled in thick baby blankets. The focus wasn’t even on her, but rather the details of the clothing. Given the summer heat, Emmy’s hair was damp with sweat. When Jack returned, I confronted him, “Why wrap her up like this? It’s over 90 degrees out—she’ll overheat!” He froze, trying to recover, “They’re sending us another one for free if I post a picture with this one.” “So you’d risk her comfort for a cheap promo?” Jack’s anger flared, “She’s my daughter! You think I’d hurt her?” “Relax. I didn’t say that.” I pressed, raising my voice. Jack knocked the camera to the ground, slamming the door behind him. When he finally returned around midnight, he hugged me from behind, whispering, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have lost my temper.” I said nothing. He softened, adding, “How about a weekend hiking trip, just the two of us? Mom can watch Emmy. It’s been forever since we had time alone.” There it was: that sickening sweetness, like when we first started dating. Even after years of building a life together, you can never fully know the person lying beside you. “Camping? But I thought you hated hiking?” I asked. “That was back then,” he chuckled, “But now we’re our own bosses with flexible schedules. Hiking’s a good way to stay fit.” “Which trail?” I tested. “Stonehill Ridge,” he said. “I read it’s less crowded, got beautiful old scenery, and is far from the city. They say the air there is amazing.” I nodded, “You really did your homework.” “Of course. I have to make it up to you.” He pulled me close. “We could get a tent and camp under the stars, just like college.” I pushed him back, “Fine. But if we go, it’ll be once your mom’s settled with Emmy.” He brightened, “Done!” The stronger he pressed, the firmer my resolve became. Around 2 a.m., I finished feeding Emmy and went to the bathroom. Turning on the shower, the water heater emitted its usual hum, old and worn. If its temperature controls, overheating protection, and pressure release valves were all damaged, well… anything could happen. I placed a hand under the hot stream, deep in thought.

Jack’s mom arrived a few days later, laden with bags and a crate of fresh eggs. “Well, well, standing there like a bump on a log,” she teased me, nudging Jack with a laugh. “For a new mom, you sure don’t know how to keep busy.” I took her bag, smiling. “Thanks for coming, Marge. You must be tired from the trip.” “Oh, don’t you worry about me,” she said, settling onto the couch with a grin that looked friendly enough but masked a pointed edge. She’d never quite approved of me, probably thinking Jack’s previous tech job could’ve won him a wife with “better” credentials. Jack handed her a cup of water, “Mom, Megan and I are planning a hiking trip this weekend. Think you could look after Emmy for a couple of days?” She muttered, “Yeah, sure, sure. Sounds miserable in this heat, but knock yourselves out.” Later that night, Jack insisted on picking up camping gear, practically glowing with excitement. “We’re just three days away!” he beamed. “Since you got pregnant, we haven’t been out together. You as excited as I am?” “Oh, I…” Just yesterday, I’d set the water heater to fifty degrees, only to find the water scalding when I used it. Its temperature controls must’ve completely failed. “Yeah, I’m really looking forward to it,” I replied. When we returned, Marge had already put Emmy to bed. The next morning, Jack left for the shop, and I dressed Emmy for the day before heading out. Marge, holding Emmy, grumbled about the baby monitor. “Staring at us all night, I couldn’t sleep with that thing on.” She set it on the shelf behind the TV. “Waste of money.” “Sure.” I said, as the doorbell rang. The appliance repairman I’d called had arrived. “Mr. Turner, right?” I stepped aside to let him in and led him to the bathroom. “Our water heater’s been making odd noises, and the temperature’s unpredictable. Could you check it?” He inspected it, knocking on the casing, “How long you had it?” “About eight years.” “Thing’s on its last legs. You’d be better off with a new one. That pressure relief valve’s not working either. This old heater could go anytime.” I feigned shock. “It’s worth maybe a hundred bucks,” he added. “If you decide to sell it, call me.” As he left, I suggested to Marge, “Maybe we should just get rid of it.” “He’s scamming you,” she scoffed. “That heater’s working fine; why bother?” “Let’s just unplug it when it’s not in use, then.” I put on my shoes, ready to head out for work. “Fancy-pants, aren’t we? You make three grand a month and act like royalty,” she sneered. I said nothing, pulling on my sun hat as I left. After work, I realized it had started raining, and I’d forgotten my umbrella. Slick pavement made riding my e-bike treacherous, but I gripped the handlebars tightly, squinting through the rain. Then, out of nowhere, a van careened toward me, and I froze. In those seconds, I felt nothing but terror—and a gnawing bitterness. Why did fate seem to favor Jack? The van stopped just in time, but in my panic, I swerved, crashing onto the sidewalk. Pain shot through my hip, and my knee scraped against the rough pavement. My arms were bloodied and caked with dirt. Bystanders helped me up as the van driver apologized profusely. When I finally got home, Marge was shelling beans, while Jack was scrolling through his phone. He sprang up when he saw my disheveled state. “What happened? Are you okay?” I shook my head. Seemingly relieved, Jack asked, “It’s not too bad, right? This won’t stop us from hiking this weekend?” I stared at him. “What do you think? I can barely walk.” My dear husband’s primary concern wasn’t my well-being; it was whether his plan would still work. As Marge cringed at my scraped knee, Jack stared blankly, as though he’d suffered a blow. I stepped into the bathroom, skipping the shower in favor of a basin of cold water. As I washed my knee, I glanced at the water heater. Bathing would be out of the question until I healed. At dinner, Jack was oddly quiet, lost in thought. Marge handed him a slice of omelet. “What’s on your mind?” “Babe, maybe I should take you to the hospital tomorrow, make sure you didn’t break anything,” Jack said, glancing at me. “Wouldn’t want to miss out on the weekend.” “Yes, that would be good,” I replied. The next day, Jack took me to get my wounds dressed. The doctor warned against letting the injuries get wet. Once back at work, I opened the baby monitor app, expecting to check on Emmy, only to find the screen filled with Jack and that woman, sprawled on my living room couch. They were all over each other, like animals incapable of self-control. Watching Jack with another woman, I felt nothing. But my gaze drifted to Emmy in her stroller nearby, tiny legs kicking in the air, oblivious to the scene around her. The sight made me feel sick. “Oh, there’s something about your place that really gets me going,” the woman purred. Jack, cigarette in hand, replied, “You’re the only one who makes me feel alive. Megan’s a mess now; her body’s wrecked. One look, and I’m done.” “Your daughter’s crying.” “Let her cry. Girls are a hassle, anyway. Just raising her for someone else. So, when are you giving me a son?” “When you get rid of her. Simple as that.” “Last night, I almost smothered her with a pillow,” Jack hissed through gritted teeth. “Can’t believe she didn’t die in that accident.” The screen cut to three loud knocks on the door.

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My son is a “child genius.” My overconfident husband loves to brag, always boasting that our son inherited his brilliant genes. One day at dinner, my son suddenly started speaking German to his dad. He said, “Mom ist zu dumm, ich hasse sie” (Mom is too dumb, I hate her). My husband casually replied, “Ihre einzige Funktion ist es, uns zu dienen, zum Glück haben Sie nicht ihre minderwertigen Gene geerbt” (Her only purpose is to serve us. Luckily, you didn’t inherit her inferior genes). I put down my utensils and watched as father and son exchanged sneaky glances and smiles. At that moment, I felt utterly exhausted. 01 I stood up with my bowl in hand, walked into the kitchen, washed the dishes, and placed them in the dishwasher. The sound of the dishwasher humming couldn’t drown out the conversation still going on between father and son at the dining table. I dried my hands and walked past them, heading to the bedroom. Neither of them bothered to spare me a glance. In the past, I would have cheerfully asked, “What are you guys talking about?” Even though I’d always be brushed off impatiently, I kept trying to join in. But now, I no longer felt the need. Whatever they talked about, discussed, or argued about—it was their business. Not mine. I pulled out my old suitcase from the back of the closet. It looked worn, but it was still sturdy. I didn’t have many clothes. Ever since Aaron was born, I stopped caring about how I looked. I started buying clothes online, cheap and disposable. Looking at what I had now, the only decent clothes were the ones I bought before we got married. 02 Just as I finished packing, Spencer walked in. He looked at the suitcase on the floor, his brow furrowing. “What are you doing with that old thing?” I didn’t respond. I just kept zipping up the suitcase. He shrugged, uninterested, grabbed his charging cable from the nightstand, and said, “Go clean the dining table. Aaron and I are going to play Monopoly later.” I said nothing, and he walked out of the room. The door clicked shut at the same time my suitcase zipper snapped into place. Those two sounds intertwined, and I felt a sudden clarity in my heart. I pulled out an old trench coat, the one I had bought the year I graduated and started working. I remembered my mom saying, “Now that you’re working, you need something decent to wear,” and she took me to a department store, where we spent $500 on that brand-name coat. When Spencer found out, he insisted I return it, grumbling that $500 could cover two months of our expenses. I refused. We had a big fight, and my mom ended up giving him $450 to calm him down. But after we got married, I never wore the coat again. Pregnancy had changed my body, and once Aaron was born, I was too busy taking care of him. The coat just stayed in the closet, gathering dust. 03 The suitcase wheels scraped across the hardwood floor, making a loud, dragging sound. Aaron, who was sitting on the couch watching TV, glanced at me, then quickly returned his attention to the screen. Spencer was sprawled out on the couch, phone in hand, a smug smile on his face. He heard the noise too and looked up at me, his brow furrowing tightly. “Where are you going?” I took a deep breath, not even able to respond before he continued. “I told you to clean the dining table! Aaron and I are going to play Monopoly!” I swallowed the words stuck in my throat, using all my strength not to slam the suitcase into his face. “Clean it yourself. I’m moving out.” Finally, Spencer looked at me properly. He sat up, eyebrows knitted as he watched me change my shoes. “What do you mean?” I stood up straight and looked at Aaron, still glued to the TV, rubbing his tired eyes. Aaron’s eyesight had been deteriorating, and I’d already scheduled an appointment for him next Saturday to see Dr. Grayson at Denver Eye Center. I pulled out my phone and sent Spencer the appointment details. “Don’t forget to take him to the eye doctor next Saturday,” I said, pulling my suitcase behind me as I walked out the door. 04 Spencer caught up to me as the elevator was still ascending. “What the hell is wrong with you?!” he muttered angrily, trying to grab my suitcase. I tightened my grip and dodged his hand. “There’s nothing wrong with me, Spencer. “Did you forget?” I looked at this balding man in front of me and couldn’t help but smirk. “If it weren’t for accidentally getting pregnant with Aaron, I was supposed to go to MIT on a scholarship.” Spencer’s eyes widened as if he’d finally remembered the time he and Aaron humiliated me, assuming I couldn’t understand German. He sighed, folding his arms across his chest, showing not a hint of remorse. “Oh, right. I forgot you spoke German. You’re not seriously mad about that, are you? “I’ll apologize, for me and Aaron. Does that work for you?” The elevator reached the seventh floor. As I watched the numbers climb on the display, I felt an unprecedented calm wash over me. “It’s not just about that,” I said, glancing back at him. “I’m done living like this. “Spencer, I want a divorce. Aaron stays with you.” The elevator doors opened to Spencer’s furious shouts. I stepped inside and quickly pressed the button to close the door. The last thing I saw was Spencer yelling for me to get out of his house before storming back inside. 05 I spent half the night at the airport, catching the first flight back to my parents’ house. When I told them I was getting a divorce, they stayed quiet for a long time. Finally, my dad shook his newspaper and asked, “Have you had breakfast yet?” I shook my head, tears spilling onto my jeans, leaving dark spots. My mom wiped my tears, smiling gently. “Let your dad make you some noodles, your favorite.” My dad had already put down his paper and was slowly shuffling into the kitchen. After breakfast, I pushed my suitcase into the bedroom and collapsed onto the bed. Sleep came quickly, and as I drifted off, memories flooded my mind. While other babies were still babbling, Aaron had already memorized passages of American Classic Literature. At first, Spencer and I didn’t think much of it, assuming Aaron was just a smart kid. But when Aaron was three and in preschool, the teacher visited us just two weeks into the term, marveling at how he was a “child genius.” Apparently, Aaron had memorized the Code of Conduct for Young Americans in just ten minutes. Spencer was over the moon. After endless tests, he was convinced that Aaron was, indeed, a genius. And he—the self-proclaimed “genius father.” Spencer, who had never cared about raising Aaron, suddenly quit his job without even consulting me and used all our savings to support Aaron’s education. Aaron didn’t disappoint. By the age of five, he had mastered all elementary school subjects and was accepted into Aspen Ridge Prep Academy ahead of time. The media couldn’t get enough of our “American wunderkind.” The Crane family celebrated like royalty, even adding a special page for Aaron in the family tree records. But I knew deep down this wasn’t right. I worried that Aaron’s success wouldn’t last forever. He was only a little ahead of the others, and once the spotlight faded, he might fall harder than anyone else. 06 I was woken up by Janice Crane’s phone call. “Nina!” Janice always thought shouting over the phone made her more likely to be heard, so every call sounded like she was yelling into a megaphone. “You’re way too old to be playing divorce games! Aren’t you afraid people will laugh at you?” I rolled my eyes and muttered, “I’m not playing around, Janice. I’m serious about the divorce.” She let out a loud laugh, clearly not taking me seriously. “Do whatever you want. The moment you leave, my son will just hire a nanny. You’re useless anyway. Go on, and don’t come crawling back!” I hung up immediately. In their eyes, I had never been more than a glorified nanny. No, not even that—at least a nanny gets paid. Sitting cross-legged on the bed, I took a few deep breaths before picking up my phone and dialing my high school friend, Gabriel Dawson. “It’s been ages, Nina,” Gabriel said when he answered, congratulating me right away. “I read that article about you. You’re officially the mother of a genius now, huh? Congrats!” I gave a bitter laugh. “Don’t tease me. It’s all just media hype. By the way, I heard you started your own law firm. Interested in taking on my divorce case?” Gabriel was stunned, asking several times, “A divorce? You?” I firmly replied, “Yes, I want a divorce.” After hanging up, I lay back on the bed, feeling a sense of relief for the first time in a long while. No more endless laundry, no more scrubbing floors, and no more catering to a pair of men who couldn’t care less about me. 07 Aaron used Spencer’s phone to call me, asking where his shirt was. I decided to steer the conversation elsewhere. “Aaron, do you know why I left?” He was cold. “No. Where’s my shirt?” I sighed. “I understand German, Aaron. I understood everything you and your dad said at the dinner table.” There was silence for a moment before Aaron responded. “You can speak German? Wo ist mein Hemd (Where’s my shirt)?” My chest felt tight. I couldn’t hold back my frustration any longer. “Aaron, don’t you feel even a little guilty for humiliating me like that?” His voice, still childishly high-pitched, sounded like ice shards. “In our house, only people with high intelligence get to speak. Your education isn’t good enough to earn any respect. Now, I’ll ask one more time—where’s my shirt?” I hung up. As expected, Aaron had no concept of manners. I had tried teaching him, reasoning with him, even pretending I’d punish him, but he just wasn’t interested in learning those values. Spencer had told Aaron that rules only bend for the talented. And Aaron believed it wholeheartedly. 08 After pulling myself together, I headed straight to Gabriel Dawson’s law firm. Gabriel had changed a lot—especially his waistline. He rubbed his nose awkwardly and laughed. “Long time no see, Nina. You haven’t changed at all.” I chuckled. “You’re still as smooth as ever.” We went over the divorce agreement, and Gabriel asked me repeatedly, “Are you sure you don’t want to fight for custody? And don’t you think you’re asking for too little?” “This is fine,” I said, taking a sip of water, swallowing the lump in my throat. “I don’t want to get into a long, drawn-out battle with Spencer. This is something he’ll agree to.” Gabriel scratched his head, still confused. “Nina, are you sure you’re not rushing into this? You two don’t have any major marital issues, no financial problems, and sure, there’s some tension with his mother, but nothing that can’t be fixed. Plus, Aaron is… well, a genius.” “My marriage was a mistake from the start,” I replied with a soft smile, finally feeling the weight lift off my shoulders. “It just took me too long to realize it.” I should’ve seen it the moment Spencer secretly replaced my birth control pills and I ended up pregnant by accident. Instead, it took all these years—and raising our son—to finally understand. 09 When Spencer received the divorce papers, he couldn’t stay calm anymore. “Nina, have you lost your mind?” he yelled over the phone, furious. “In two days, it’s Aaron’s College Admissions Celebration! There are going to be media outlets and TV stations all over the place! Now you’re going to drop a divorce bomb? I still have my reputation to think about!” Aaron had been accepted into Aspen Ridge Prep Academy, and Spencer had gone all out, planning a huge gala, inviting the press and even some local officials. This celebration was his crown jewel. Ignoring his rant, I replied calmly, “Spencer, I’m divorcing you. You can hold your party. They’re separate things.” Spencer snapped, “I thought we agreed—you’re supposed to attend the party with us!” “Why would I do that?” I asked. He fell silent, so I continued, “To play the role of a lucky housewife with a simple college degree, who somehow gave birth to a ‘genius’?” Spencer gritted his teeth. “You’ve been snooping through my phone?” Honestly, stumbling upon his plan was pure coincidence—I wasn’t in the habit of checking his phone. But when I saw the draft of the “media plan,” it hit me hard. When I got pregnant during my grad school applications, I didn’t want the baby at first. But Spencer had cried, begged me to keep it, claiming his low sperm count meant this was a miracle—a blessing from above. I caved. So, with a degree in one hand and a marriage license in the other, I gave birth to Aaron that winter. When Aaron turned one, a drunken Spencer let it slip: he’d secretly switched out my birth control pills on purpose.

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I thought I would love him forever… if only I hadn’t heard those words. On the second day of giving Thomas the silent treatment, I decided to go to his place to make up. As soon as the door opened, I heard a familiar female voice: “What? Don’t tell me you’ve actually fallen for her?” “Don’t forget, you were the one who said you wanted to get revenge for me!” That voice… it once plunged me into hell. As evening fell, I hurried towards the elevator, clutching a box of fresh cake. This was the second day of my silent treatment with Thomas, which also happened to be his birthday. I had finally found an excuse to rush over to his place with a cake. Usually, I had to let Thomas know before going to his place. Otherwise, he’d accuse me of messing with his things. Even though that one time, I hadn’t touched anything, just sat on the sofa waiting for him. But this time was an exception. It was a surprise. Surely he wouldn’t be angry… The elevator finally arrived. I nervously picked up the cake and walked towards Thomas’s door. Suddenly, a familiar voice stopped me in my tracks. “What? Don’t tell me you’ve actually fallen for her?” “Don’t forget, you were the one who said you wanted to get revenge for me!” Hearing this voice, I felt as if I’d been plunged into an icy abyss. How did Thomas know her?! Before I could even think of an excuse for him, his urgent voice came through: “Don’t be angry. How could I possibly like her?” “I’m just playing with her, how could you take it seriously!” “Don’t worry, I’ve already proposed to her. Soon she’ll be at your mercy!” … Every word felt like a knife to my heart! I don’t know how long it took, but Thomas finally managed to placate Mia. Her final words were, “Well, I want to be there when you two get engaged. I want her parents to know what a shameless homewrecker their daughter is!” Thomas reassured her, “Of course you’ll be there. You have to witness the moment of victory!” My boyfriend was planning to use our engagement party as a tool to please another woman… I tugged at the corners of my mouth, unable to even muster a bitter smile. I stood there stupidly at the door, masochistically listening to them belittle me until my legs went numb, and they still weren’t done. Finally, Mia said she had to leave. Only then did I come to my senses and frantically ran towards the stairwell. I crouched by the stairwell door, peeking through the small gap to watch Thomas fawning over Mia. My heart felt as if it had been slashed by a knife, the pain piercing to my very core! After seeing Mia off, Thomas’s face immediately darkened. I saw him pick up his phone, messaging someone while muttering, “Getting too big for her boots…” When I picked up my phone, I realized that his gloomy face had been directed at me. He said, “It’s my birthday today, did you forget?” “Who are you having dinner with again?! Even I, as a director, am not as busy as you!” “Let me tell you, if you’re not here by 8 PM, we’re breaking up!” … This overconfident attitude was something I had indulged over many days. Although Thomas was two years older than me, he often acted childishly in our relationship. It was all due to being spoiled by his family, and I was happy to indulge him too. But now… I laughed bitterly. So this is what it feels like to reap what you sow… I looked at the cake in my hand, suddenly feeling as if it weighed a thousand pounds, too heavy for me to lift. I left that cake in the stairwell, along with the ring Thomas had given me. The first time I met Mia was at my previous company. At that time, my boss Lucas was explaining to me how to improve a project proposal. Inadvertently, our shoulders brushed against each other as he leaned over to look at the computer screen. To an outsider, it might have looked intimate. But in reality, we didn’t have much physical contact, so neither of us thought anything of it and continued our discussion. However, someone with too much time on their hands took a photo of this moment and sent it to Mia. The next day at work, as soon as I sat down at my desk, Mia, who had been waiting for a long time, rushed up to me like a madwoman and slapped me across the face. “You bitch! How dare you seduce my husband!” I was stunned by her slap, aware of nothing but the intense pain on my face… Mia was about to strike again, but luckily Lucas grabbed her hand. “What are you doing here?!” Mia, gritting her teeth, pointed at me and shouted at Lucas, “Because of this slut, you’re yelling at me?! Are you really protecting this homewrecker?!” Lucas had no idea what she was talking about. He could only desperately block her, shielding me from Mia’s frenzied attacks. Afterwards, Lucas publicly apologized to me and dealt with the person who took the photo. But from that moment on, Mia had her sights set on me. I don’t know if she suffered from paranoid delusions, but every time I showed up at the company, she would stand at the company entrance, staring at me intently, as if afraid I would have any intimate interaction with Lucas. Her behavior drove me to the brink of a nervous breakdown, so I voluntarily resigned. On the day I left, packing up my things, Mia snorted coldly and finally moved away from the company entrance. The new job I found was at Thomas’s company. I remember that day when he asked me why I left my previous job. I calmly gave him a rehearsed answer. At the time, he looked at me with a meaningful gaze. I thought he found my answer too perfunctory. Looking back now, I realize all the signs were there from the beginning. I returned home like a walking corpse. As soon as I got home, Thomas called. I stared at the vibrating phone, a glimmer of hope in my heart. Maybe he had seen the cake? Maybe he was calling to explain… I made excuses for him, answering the phone with a hint of expectation, only to be met with Thomas’s sarcastic tone: “Oh, so you’re finally free to answer the phone! Who are you having dinner with this time?” I was stunned by his mocking tone, taking a while to remember the “guy” he was referring to. Previously, a long-term client of the company had invited me to dinner. I thought it was to discuss a contract, but it turned out he wanted to confess his feelings for me. Although I had always claimed I wasn’t single, no one at the company had ever seen my boyfriend. They probably thought it was just an excuse I used to avoid dating. Someone must have told him. I awkwardly watched him smiling and holding out flowers, wracking my brain for a polite way to reject him, not noticing that Thomas was sitting behind me at the time. He mistook my momentary silence for interest, so he immediately bought a ring to tie me down. At the time, he leaned on the sofa, roughly slipping the ring onto my finger, arrogantly saying, “Now they’ll have to believe you!” Although I didn’t want to get engaged so early, seeing how much he cared about me, I could only happily accept. The ring he bought was that season’s new design. After that, anyone with any sense never bothered me again. However, what came with it was my team leader frequently hinting at me, asking if I was getting married. I knew what she meant – she was afraid I would start taking time off work. Every time, I would exhaustively explain, afraid of being misunderstood. But Thomas became unhappy, thinking I didn’t love him, and started giving me the silent treatment. At the time, I lamented that although he was two years older than me, he was still so childish in our relationship. But now, I couldn’t help but think, it wasn’t that he couldn’t see my difficulties, he just didn’t care. He was simply trying to trip me up… I suddenly thought, did he buy me the ring because he was afraid I’d run away, afraid he couldn’t get revenge for Mia… On the other end of the phone, Thomas was still waiting for my response. Even though I had already sentenced him to death in my mind, I still wanted to get to the truth. “Thomas, do you love me?” There was a moment of silence on the other end, followed by a nonchalant tone, “Of course I love you, why else would I be with you?” “Then what about Mia? Do you love her?” His breathing on the other end became erratic. In an instant, my heart turned cold. “The ring is in the stairwell of your building. Let’s break up.”

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The CEO wants to take my kidney for his first love. I was drugged and sent to a private hospital, but little did he know, the surgeon was my own brother. I begged the CEO to leave with me quickly, but he refused. What he didn’t know was that once he stepped into this hospital, he would never leave alive. Because my brother is a serial killer, my mother is a professional at dismembering bodies, and my father is a sociopath. And I am the family’s precious darling. “I won’t sign this contract.” I looked up at Lucas Sterling, pushing back the document that would require me to sell my kidney. “It’s okay, Lucas. Don’t force Aria. As long as you’re with me in my final days, that’s enough,” Sophia, sitting next to Lucas, spoke softly. I stared at them, trying to control my emotions despite telling myself not to care about them anymore. To an outsider, they might look like a couple. In reality, I was Lucas’s girlfriend of two years. Seeing Sophia’s understanding attitude, Lucas’s gaze towards me grew even more disdainful. “Aria, I’ve already promised you that once you donate a kidney to Sophia, you can marry into the Sterling family. You won’t have to work, and you’ll have everything you need. It’ll be a hundred times better than your current life!” His tone made it sound like I was the one begging him to marry me. But two years ago, he had promised that I would be the future Mrs. Sterling. I sighed and stood up to leave, but Lucas grabbed my hand. The warmth of his touch made me feel momentarily disoriented. How long had it been since he last held my hand? Lucas’s face showed a hint of anger. “Aria, I’ve never lost my temper with you before. Don’t push me.” After a pause, as if realizing he had spoken too harshly, he added, “Be a good person, Aria.” A good person? Does being good mean handing over my kidney without question? To a homewrecker? Not wanting to look at the two of them any longer, I shook off his hand and walked out of the room. “Forget it, Lucas. Let’s break up.” “Lucas, it’s okay. Maybe Miss Reed doesn’t like me and feels I’m interfering with your relationship…” I heard Sophia’s sobs and Lucas’s angry voice behind me: “Aria, don’t regret this!” Back in my rented apartment, I lay down on the bed. Two years ago, I had come to this city alone. My first job was at a company owned by the Sterling family. As a newcomer, I was often assigned difficult tasks, which meant frequent overtime. Lucas, as the newly appointed CEO, was also working late to familiarize himself with the business. That’s how we met. He said there was a light in my eyes that kept him going whenever he felt tired. Later, he confessed his feelings, and we started dating secretly. Since that day when I suggested breaking up with Lucas, he never came to find me. I thought he had given up, so I felt relieved. But I had underestimated his love for Sophia. I was sleeping in my own small bed, but when I woke up again, I found myself lying in a hospital bed in a private clinic. My phone had been taken away. Lucas placed a meal in front of me and said coldly, “Eat more and get some sleep these few days. If anything happens to your kidney, don’t blame me for being harsh!” After Lucas left, I slowly ate the food in the box. There’s no point in fighting against your own body. Besides, eating more would give me strength to escape. After finishing the meal, in the afternoon, I started to plan my escape route. I saw a map of the entire hospital in the corridor. The main entrance was definitely not an option; Lucas might have instructed the reception nurses. My only choice was the back door. As night fell, I slipped out of the ward and made my way to the back door. I couldn’t open it, but I could climb over the wall. Just as I was about to leave, I heard faint cries for help that caught my attention. Without much thought, my first instinct was to help. I ran towards the source of the sound without hesitation. What I saw was a man with his hands and feet bound, all ten fingers cut off. I stood there, momentarily stunned. This method of torture was all too familiar to me. Lost in thought, I didn’t notice the man’s terrified gaze behind me. The next moment, a gentle yet cold voice sounded behind me: “Peeking at someone else’s murder isn’t what good girls do, you know.” As he walked past me, the familiar face in the moonlight triggered my horrifying memories. I felt as if someone was choking me; I couldn’t speak. He walked up to the man and swiftly stabbed him. The man fell to the ground, no longer breathing. At the same time, I heard someone calling my name from a distance. “Aria! Aria!” “You’d better not let me catch you, or you’re done for!” Hearing Lucas’s voice at this moment made me want to laugh. How much did Lucas care about Sophia to come to the hospital himself so late at night to look for me? A flashlight beam shone over, and a security guard shouted, “Miss Reed is here!” The person behind me discreetly blocked the corpse, and then Lucas immediately ran over. His action of hiding the body was completely unnecessary. The night was dark, he was standing behind a tree, and it wasn’t easy to see. Plus, Lucas only had eyes for me at that moment and paid no attention to anyone else. He grabbed my hand without a word, the huge force making my wrist hurt. “Aria, you’re getting more and more disobedient. Is it so hard to donate a kidney? It’s not like I’m asking for your life!” he yelled at me. “Sophia only has six months to live. She’s so gentle and kind, how can you bear not to save her?” Saying this, he dragged me back to the ward. Before leaving, I looked back one last time. In the moonlight, the man stood there with a cold expression, his gloomy gaze fixed on Lucas. I couldn’t help but shudder. Back in the ward, taking advantage of the fact that we were alone, I frantically said to Lucas, “Let’s leave this place, it’s dangerous!” Lucas disgustedly pushed me away, and I hit the hospital bed. “Aria, I’m warning you, don’t try these useless tricks. Do you think I’d believe your nonsense?” “If you try to escape again, don’t blame me for breaking your legs!” I stared blankly at the man before me. Judging from his expression, he was serious. But just a month ago, he was holding my hand, planning how to celebrate our two-year anniversary. Why could a person change so dramatically in just one month? Just then, Sophia walked in gracefully, dressed in white. As soon as she saw me, her eyes turned red. “Miss Reed, it’s all my fault. If it weren’t for me, Lucas wouldn’t be angry with you. Does it hurt?” She came forward, her hand stroking my forehead, but out of Lucas’s sight, she pressed down hard. I cried out in pain and pushed her away at the same time. “Ah!” She screamed even louder than me. Lucas immediately bent down anxiously to help her up, then glared at me angrily. “Aria, I really misjudged you before. You’re too vicious! How could I have been with a woman like you!” With that, he picked up Sophia and carried her out of the ward. Before leaving, he looked back at me coldly. “Aria, if you behave and donate your kidney to Sophia, I’ll forgive you.” “Otherwise, you know what will happen.” Sophia’s health had been deteriorating recently, so she was also arranged to be hospitalized. After she was admitted, Mrs. Sterling, whom I had only met once, came to the hospital for the first time ever. Sophia’s bed was set up next to mine. Mrs. Sterling stroked Sophia’s hand, smiling brightly as she said, “Sophia, dear, get well soon and marry our Lucas.” Sophia’s face turned red with embarrassment. “Auntie, don’t say that. Miss Reed is still here.” Only then did Mrs. Sterling glance at me coldly, before turning back to Sophia with a complete change in attitude. “Only a smart and beautiful girl like you is worthy of our Lucas. Don’t worry, the Sterling family only recognizes you as our daughter-in-law. I won’t bother with any other riffraff.” I lowered my head silently. Since my phone had been taken away, I didn’t even have anything to distract myself with. So the Sterling family wasn’t cold to everyone, it was just because I wasn’t their chosen one. “Mom, what are you saying?” The door to the ward opened, and a voice sounded in front of me. “The important thing now is to cure Sophia. I won’t be with such a vicious woman anyway.” As he spoke, I felt a gaze fall on me. I looked up. Two men were standing in front of me. One was Lucas, and the other… I looked over, but after meeting his eyes, my pupils contracted, and my body began to tremble uncontrollably. “I want to leave. I want to leave right now!” I pulled back the covers, intending to leave, but Lucas, thinking I didn’t want to donate my kidney to Sophia, forcefully pushed me back onto the bed. Because of Sophia’s worsening condition, Lucas had been quite anxious these past few days. “Alright, doctor, do an examination. If there’s no problem, arrange the surgery as soon as possible,” Lucas said to the man beside him. The man’s eyes swept over me with an ambiguous smile, and after finishing my examination, he went outside to talk with Lucas. Mrs. Sterling also left, reminding Sophia to call her after the surgery so she could come take care of her. With no one else around, Sophia dropped her hypocritical facade and walked to my bedside. Her finger traced along my waist as she smiled, “This kidney will soon belong to me.” I looked at her and coldly uttered two words: “Homewrecker.” Sophia snorted lightly. “In relationships, the one who isn’t loved is the third wheel. Blame yourself for being a toad lusting after swan meat, inserting yourself between Lucas and me.” I looked at her seriously and said, “It’s not too late to leave now, otherwise you’ll face retribution.” “Retribution? I’ve never believed in such things. But I should kindly remind you, you only have less than a day left to live,” Sophia smiled mockingly, looking at me like a victor. “I’ve bribed Dr. Ethan Reed who will perform your surgery. You’ll die on the operating table.” “And both your kidneys will be mine. Lucas will be mine too.” I turned my head indifferently. Sophia didn’t know. I couldn’t possibly die on the operating table. Because the person performing the surgery was my own brother. After Sophia finished talking to me, she went out to find Lucas. There were many security guards outside, so I had no chance of escaping. The next moment, the door was pushed open, and a gentle-looking man walked in. But having grown up with Ethan, I knew very well that his gentleness was just a facade, and he was actually a serial killer.

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Hot! Why is it so hot? I vaguely remember that before I lost consciousness, the temperature on Earth had plummeted to minus 80 degrees Fahrenheit. There’s a saying that right before someone freezes to death, they feel a strange warmth. Was I already dead? No! I can’t die just like this! Those three despicable people are still alive, so how could I die before them? Suddenly, I opened my eyes. The first thing I saw was my husband, Lucas Johnson, standing beside the couch. He was wearing a thin t-shirt, his face glowing with warmth, clearly enjoying life without a care. He looked down at me and said casually, “Since you’re awake, go ahead and make dinner. My parents will be home soon.” The scene was so familiar, almost identical to the moment a month ago when I had slipped while mopping the floor, hit my head on the corner of the table, and passed out. And Lucas’s expression right now—it was the exact same as it had been back then! “Hey!” Lucas, seeing that I hadn’t moved, yanked me up forcefully, pulling me off the couch. “Faye, it’s already 5:15! Mom and Dad will be here by 5:30. What are you standing around for?” With that, he turned and walked back into his room to play his game, leaving me standing there with my heart racing. Lucas’s well-toned arm had gripped me so tightly that the pain in my arm was real. My heart pounded as I quickly grabbed my phone. The screen showed the date—it really was a month before that fateful day! Just then, a news alert popped up on my phone, reporting a conflict in some region. It was eerily similar to the chaos that had erupted just before the apocalypse in my previous life. Those painful memories came rushing back. In my past life, Lucas had been laid off. After that, he struggled to find a job, meeting failure after failure. As the only son of a rural family, his parents had moved in with us when they heard he’d lost his job. They were furious that as his wife, I wasn’t catering to his every need—especially that I wasn’t cooking for him every day. So, they decided to move in under the pretense of helping us. But instead of helping, they turned Lucas into a lazy, good-for-nothing man. Back then, I was trapped by “years of love” and couldn’t bring myself to leave him. I didn’t divorce him when I should have. But now—I’ve come back to the past! God finally heard my cry of frustration and gave me another chance! With gratitude filling my heart, I glanced around the room. The family heirloom furniture my parents left behind was still intact, and the sunlight was pouring in through the windows. I checked the weather forecast: it was 116°F (47°C)—even for a scorching summer, this was unusual heat. This extreme heat is why, when the Great Freeze hit half a month later, people didn’t see it coming. They felt too comfortable to notice. The temperature would drop rapidly—first by 9 or 18 degrees each day—until one day people would wake up to find it snowing in the middle of summer, with the temperature plunging to -30°F. That’s when the panic would finally set in. At first, you could still buy food if you had money, but before long, people would realize the danger, and everyone would have to fend for themselves. I remember suggesting to Lucas that we should stock up while we could still go to Costco Warehouse Store. But my in-laws overheard this from outside the room. They stormed in, hands around my throat, accusing me of trying to kill their son. “Don’t you know how deadly it is to go out in this cold?! You go if you want to die!” They yanked me roughly out of bed. “Let’s see how you like freezing to death, you wicked woman!” I was devastated, but Lucas remained silent. His mother’s grip on my throat tightened. I scratched at her hands in desperation, but Lucas stopped me cold. “That’s my mom! How could you lay a hand on her?” At that moment, I was shocked, but I finally understood. He had changed long ago. The moment I agreed to let his country-bumpkin parents move in with us, I had made a mistake. Maybe even marrying him had been the wrong decision from the start. In the days that followed, they dropped the masks they wore and became like demons. They hoarded all the warm clothes, forcing me to go out in -40°F weather to scavenge for food while they burned my family’s heirloom furniture for warmth. My hands were covered in frostbite, my exposed skin cracked from the cold. If I didn’t bring back enough food, I was met with scorn or beaten. If I tried to explain myself, they would strip off my down jacket and lock me outside until I begged for forgiveness. When there was no more food to find, they made a deal with the local gang to trade me for supplies. I fought back with all my strength, but I was left locked out on the freezing balcony. That’s how I froze to death. The humiliation and agony of those final moments felt as vivid as if it had happened yesterday, and tears rolled down my face uncontrollably. Just then, the sound of keys turning in the lock reached my ears—Lucas’s parents had come home.

As soon as they stepped inside, their eyes immediately went to the dining table. Seeing nothing, their faces darkened. I took a deep breath, wiped away my tears, and put on a cheerful smile to greet them. It wasn’t time to reveal my hand yet. I had to bide my time. I flashed my phone at them as I spoke. “Dad, Mom, something urgent came up at the factory, and I completely lost track of time. Why don’t I give you some money, and you can take Lucas out to eat something nice? I still need to go back to the factory to handle some things.” Right then, Mr. Johnson’s phone chimed with a notification. He unlocked it, and the amount he saw made him smile. “I’ll be back late tonight. Enjoy your dinner.” Ever since my parents passed away in that tragic accident, I had been running the furniture factory they left me, fresh out of college. It took countless sleepless nights, but eventually, I managed to bring that dormant production line back to life. Good thing I had been smart enough to never transfer ownership of the factory to Lucas. Now, the factory’s profits were my strongest leverage. Sure, it hurt a little to hand over $10,000 just like that, but to catch a big fish, you have to be willing to sacrifice some bait. I calculated the liquid cash I had left—just over a million dollars. Before Lucas lost his job, we had been pretty comfortable. But this past year, we had nearly eaten through all our savings. Still, between the property, the car, the stocks, and the debts the factory was owed, I could piece together enough to stay afloat for now. With that sorted, I rushed out the door, ready to get down to business. The elevator doors slid open, and standing inside was a young man. He had short hair, wore a black t-shirt, and his skin was a deep bronze. He stood quietly in the corner. If you didn’t know him, his presence might feel intimidating, unsettling even. But I knew he was a kind man. In my past life, when I was locked out on the balcony, it was him who dropped a heat pack down to me from above. But my mother-in-law had seen it, snatched it up, and gave it to Lucas instead. The three of them then conspired to frame me, accusing me of having an affair with him. That one small act of kindness had meant more to me than all the years of what I thought was an unbreakable marriage. I gave him a small smile and pressed the button for the basement. As the elevator descended, I casually remarked, “Seems like the weather’s been pretty weird this year, huh?” He glanced at me in surprise before nodding. “It sure has.” I feigned nonchalance. “I read an article recently about how this heat is just a backlash from rising global temperatures. Environmental damage is causing strange fluctuations in the weather, and they think it might lead to a sudden and drastic drop in temperatures.” He shot me a puzzled look and responded with a simple, “Oh.” I gave him one last glance before stepping out of the elevator. Ignoring the curious stares from others, I headed straight for a rental service and picked up a spacious old van. After that, I drove to Hillcrest Realty to rent a secluded private estate that I could move into right away. I wanted somewhere remote, with strong security. The agent looked out the window at the beat-up van I had rented, clear skepticism in his eyes. How could someone who was about to rent a luxury estate be driving such a rundown vehicle? I handed him an envelope stuffed with cash. “Relax, it’s all above board. You get your cut , I handle my business.” The agent’s expression shifted to one of sharp understanding. “Actually, I do have a place. It’s nearby.” I nodded, signaling him to lead the way. Sure enough, the agent brought me to an upscale neighborhood. I knew this area well—it wasn’t far from my home, but due to some silly superstitions about bad feng shui, hardly anyone had moved in. Rich people were obsessed with such nonsense, and it had turned this into a notorious money-losing project. And because of that, during the apocalypse, it had become an untouched safe haven. Though I was on a budget, I was still determined to haggle. “This place has quite the reputation as a ‘ghost town,’ so the price better reflect that.” The agent gave me a sideways look before forcing a smile. “You know your stuff. Don’t worry, I wouldn’t dream of overcharging you.” When we arrived, he pulled out the keys and opened the door, stepping aside to let me in. “The owner moved overseas, barely lived here. Fully furnished, with a private yard. The neighbors are far apart—very quiet.” Before stepping inside, I took a moment to survey the yard. The soil was rich and fertile—ideal for building a greenhouse to grow my own food. Inside, I inspected every corner, knocking and testing for durability. The solid wood furniture was well-built, and the windows were top-quality. But what delighted me the most was the enormous fireplace. The previous owner clearly had excellent taste. As the sun began to set, I stood on the terrace, looking out at the darkened windows of my current house in the distance, squinting my eyes thoughtfully. Turning to the agent, I said, “Let’s sign the lease for five years.” His eyes lit up with excitement. After paying the deposit and seeing him off, I took my time examining every inch of this soon-to-be apocalypse refuge. I mapped out where I would install security grilles and where to fortify weak points, planning everything meticulously. Just as I was about to explore the space under the stairs, an inconspicuous door caught my attention. My mind began to race with ideas… I pushed the door open. As the hinges turned, lights along the walls flickered to life, illuminating a path downward. To my amazement, this mansion had a hidden basement! It was clear that the previous owner had some foresight, creating this secret space during construction as a bunker of sorts. The agent hadn’t even known about it, which meant I now had a secret base—a valuable asset, especially with the apocalypse looming. The basement was roughly 1,300 square feet, fully furnished, and equipped with a state-of-the-art ventilation system. The air circulated freely, without any oppressive feeling. All it needed was enhanced insulation, and it would be the perfect shelter. Now, it was time to start stockpiling supplies. Carefully locking the basement door, I moved an old metal cabinet in front of it to keep it hidden. Then I pulled the curtains tightly shut and drove off to the nearest Costco Warehouse Store.

As soon as I entered the store, memories of hunger and freezing from my previous life flooded back, making my eyes gleam with a ravenous desire as I stared at the shelves of food. The key to preparing for the apocalypse was choosing items with a long shelf life that were easy to eat. So, instant meals like mac and cheese, turkey-flavored ramen, and various heat-and-eat meals were my top picks. I headed straight for the bulk section and, posing as a small-scale retailer, I ordered large quantities—ten cases of mac and cheese, ten cases of turkey-flavored ramen, and ten cases of heat-and-eat meals. Of course, a balanced diet was important, too. Fresh fruits and vegetables were a luxury I couldn’t afford or easily store. Growing them myself would be tricky. So, I focused on vacuum-packed, high-protein options and added twenty cases of preserved goods—chicken wings, chicken legs, jerky, duck products, and hard-boiled eggs. Next, I had to stock up on water. In my previous life, after Lucas and his family had betrayed me and left me trapped in the snow, the thirst I felt was indescribable. This time, I was ready. I reached out to Samantha Foster, my factory’s secretary, and had her connect me with a German company that made custom water barrels, designed to store as much water as possible in a compact space. The barrels would line the walls of the basement, and with the addition of a greenhouse and a water collection system I planned to install in the yard, I could survive for at least a year on my own. If worst came to worst, I could always melt and purify snow. Beyond food and water, medical supplies were critical. I drove around the city, visiting every 24-hour pharmacy. Every time I tried to buy ten boxes of medicine, I had to endure the suspicious or even alarmed looks from the clerks. One time, someone almost called the cops, thinking I was a drug dealer. I had to come up with an excuse, telling them I was part of a nonprofit organization collecting emergency supplies for a small town hit by a car accident. After much explaining, they reluctantly sold me what I needed. I left each store with a mountain of antibiotics, wound powder, vitamins, disinfectants, bandages, and antidotes. As I stared at the pile of medical supplies, I couldn’t help but feel a pang of nostalgia. In my previous life, Lucas and I had met during a volunteer relief mission. Back then, he wasn’t the selfish and cold person he later became. But people change. Fear of the apocalypse and his parents’ toxic influence had twisted him, turning his once kind heart into something ugly and greedy. This time around, I could have faced the apocalypse with him by my side, but… The me that had once cared for him was long gone. He had killed that part of me with his own hands. After gathering all the medical supplies, I picked up a few fire extinguishers and some emergency escape gear, preparing for any situation that might arise. Before long, my old van was packed to the brim. Since the estate’s storage space was limited, I decided to stop my first round of shopping here. Feeling worn out, I grabbed a few bags of long-lasting pastries and bread to fill the remaining space in the van. Then, I stopped at a late-night diner for a hearty meal before heading back home. The van was full, not just of supplies but also of a cautious optimism for the future. Even though tonight seemed normal, and the apocalypse was on its way, as long as I lived for today, I could find hope. Humming a little tune, I drove through the quiet streets, cherishing this seemingly ordinary, yet precious, night. Driving back to the Private Estate in Rural Georgia, I hauled load after load of supplies down to the basement. Exhausted, I collapsed onto the floor, gazing at my “spoils of victory” with a long sigh of relief. The apocalypse would last a long time, and I urgently needed to gather more resources. But with only myself, my energy was limited, and time was slipping away. This house still needed further modifications. After paying the rent and buying food and medicine, my bank account had dwindled to just over $800,000. To avoid running out of funds for the renovations later, I decided to rely on my family’s factory for production. The first priority was to get some high-quality bows and arrows as weapons. Decent ones only cost a few thousand dollars. As for the arrows, that was simple—my factory specialized in woodworking, and it wouldn’t be hard to whip up a batch of shafts in a pinch. Last month, the factory had bought some bamboo for making chopsticks. I could easily repurpose some of it and combine it with ball bearings to create a makeshift slingshot launcher. For firepower, the garage, which was sealed and secure, could store some fireworks to be used as emergency explosives. In an apocalypse, after all, human nature was often more dangerous than the environment. As for the house modifications: installing steel plates, adding solar panels, and creating indoor insulation—$800,000 would barely cover it all. While pondering this, I drifted off to sleep without realizing it. When I woke, I was drenched in sweat, having forgotten to turn on the basement’s ventilation system. My clothes were soaked through. I glanced at the time—it was already past 2 a.m. Quietly, I slipped out of the basement and peeked out through a small gap in the curtain, seeing that the lights in the house were still on. After freshening up a bit, I drove back home. I could already predict how Lucas and his parents would react. A “submissive housewife” disappearing for half a day with her phone turned off was bound to trigger a round of questioning. But what they didn’t know was that I was no longer the same Faye Johnson they were used to. When I got home, Lucas was glued to his video game, the room filled with the sounds of gunfire and explosions. I ignored him, took off my coat, and changed my shoes. Interrupted by the noise, Lucas paused the game and angrily threw down the controller. “Where the hell have you been? Coming home this late and not answering your phone?” “Do you even care that Mom and Dad didn’t get dinner tonight?” Without looking at him, I walked straight to the bedroom and tossed out, “I was working late at the factory. There was an emergency.” My father-in-law shuffled out of the adjacent room, letting out a cold snort. “What kind of ‘emergency’ makes you work so late? What, that little wood factory of yours has some earth-shattering business that can’t wait until Monday?” Funny, he didn’t have this attitude when I handed him that money earlier. I rolled my eyes inwardly but didn’t say anything. Lucas suddenly threw his phone onto the table. “You say you were working late, but I called the office so many times—nobody picked up! What kind of work are you doing?” His mother chimed in, raising her voice. “I told you, son, this kind of woman who’s always out and about is no good. Always talking about ‘working late.’ Who knows what kind of people she’s really meeting—men or women.” With her words, Lucas’s expression darkened further. No wonder, in the past, whenever I worked late, he’d ask about it over the phone but never came to pick me up. It was all just surveillance. Looking at the three of them sitting in a row on the couch, their faces made me sick. I chuckled, “It’s business, right? I deal with both men and women. What, Lucas, would you like to go in my place next time?” “And Mom, didn’t you say you were here to take care of the both of us?” “Well, I’ll leave that to you. From now on, when I’m not home, you can cook for your son.” “After all, those hands of his are only good for video games, right?” Since we got married, I had always believed in keeping the peace in the family, treating my in-laws with respect. But now, I was done. If it weren’t for the fact that I needed time to stockpile supplies, I wouldn’t bother dealing with them at all. My mother-in-law, caught off guard by my defiance, shot up from the couch, her finger nearly poking my nose. “So, you think you’ve found some rich sugar daddy, huh? Daring to talk to me like this! You’re finally admitting you’re no good, right? If it wasn’t for my son, who would even care about an orphan like you—Ah!” Her nasty rant was cut short when I threw my bag at her face. My expression was cold and my voice even colder: “Look at yourself before you point fingers at me. Without my parents, your son wouldn’t be living so comfortably.” “Mom!” Lucas rushed over, catching his mother as she collapsed into his arms, trembling. My father-in-law, also shaking, got up and started shouting at me. I ignored their outburst and calmly went to my bedroom, locking the door behind me. There were only 29 days left until the apocalypse. Don’t expect me to tolerate any of you ever again! Lucas’s family raged and cried well into the night, but I put on earplugs and slept soundly.

Monday morning dawned, and with it, a new day. I got myself ready and prepared to head out. Lucas was still snoring on the couch, and his parents, having stayed up late after last night’s argument, were also still asleep. Quietly, I slipped out the front door. Another day closer to the end, the tension inside me tightening with each passing hour. First on the agenda was heading to the factory to handle some things—collecting outstanding payments and contacting construction teams. As soon as I walked into the office, I headed straight to my computer. I reviewed yesterday’s shopping list, then carefully categorized everything, making sure to cover every aspect of daily life and ensure I didn’t miss anything. The house renovations would take time, and I needed to lock down the construction teams today. Fortunately, during the factory’s recent renovations, I had kept contact information for a few reliable crews. For security reasons, I decided to hire several different teams to work on separate parts of the project. That way, no one would be able to connect the dots about my “apocalypse shelter.” As long as no one linked the information, my secret would be safe. With that in mind, I made a few calls, explaining that I was helping a friend remodel a workshop, and quickly wired $50,000 in deposits, making sure they started work that very afternoon. For the heavy machinery and specialized materials, I needed a lot of cash, so I sold all my stocks in one go, disregarding the fluctuations in the market. Next, I contacted an agent to sell the factory’s company vehicles and an out-of-town property I had in my name, keeping only an SUV, which I planned to send to the shop for upgrades and modifications. After that, I sent out instructions to the department heads, ordering them to recover all outstanding debts within a week, with a promise to reward 40% of any amounts collected as a bonus. The sales team exploded with excitement. Within minutes, action-oriented staff were already heading out the door. With this careful planning, I expected to recover close to a million dollars—enough to cover the renovation costs. That afternoon, I brought the first construction crew to the estate and discussed the details of the modifications. The top priority was reinforcing the perimeter fence, which would take two days. I explained that the “owner” was planning to raise large dogs, so the wire mesh needed to be extra dense. For the second team, I instructed them to install bulletproof glass, giving them a five-day deadline. The supervisor broke into a sweat. “You’ve got to be kidding me! Bulletproof glass installed in five days? That’s impossible!” “And what’s this friend of yours up to, installing bulletproof glass in their house?” I pulled him aside and spun a story about how my “friend” was a war correspondent with some PTSD from working in conflict zones. He bought it, though it meant double the cost. But if money could solve the problem, then it wasn’t really a problem. I transferred the funds without a second thought. The third and fourth teams were in charge of adding insulation, fireproofing, reinforcing the walls, and upgrading the garage. Even with the minimalist design I wanted, by the time the renovations were finished, my budget would be almost depleted. I rented a warehouse near the estate to serve as a storage hub for supplies and headed straight for the mall with a massive shopping list. Within three days, I needed to have all the goods delivered to the warehouse: high-end winter clothing, heat packs, portable heaters, and more. I had six solar panels installed on the roof in one go. Even if it got unbearably hot, freezing was not an option. By the time I finished, it was 5 p.m., right in the middle of rush hour. I collapsed into the driver’s seat, breathing heavily. Reviewing the checklist, I still felt like something was missing. I had to make sure there were no gaps in my plans. In the rearview mirror, I saw my flushed face, realizing that my health had deteriorated over the years from overworking. That’s it! Fitness equipment! Staying physically strong would be essential to survive the unknown challenges ahead. I headed to a sporting goods store and ordered dumbbells, an elliptical machine, and a multi-functional training rack, requesting delivery to my home. The store even threw in a complimentary guidebook called “Complete Fitness Guide for Women”, which covered exercises for all muscle groups—a very practical gift. This also reminded me that in a future of freezing temperatures and no internet, reading might be my best form of entertainment. So, I went to a bookstore and bought hundreds of books across various genres, having the staff load them all into my trunk. As night fell, I stopped for dinner before finally heading back home. Opening the door, I found Lucas and his parents happily seated at the dining table, enjoying a meal of lobster. His mother peeled a lobster and placed it in Lucas’s bowl. But when they saw me, all three of their smiles froze. “Faye, listen to me…” “Wait. Let me finish first.” I pulled out the divorce papers from my bag and placed them lightly on the dining table. “I’ve done everything I could for you over the years. Let’s get a divorce. You can keep the house, and I’ll just take my parents’ old furniture.” “No way!” Lucas suddenly exploded in anger, snatching up the papers and tearing them into pieces. “Son!” Mrs. Johnson hurriedly stopped Lucas, who was almost out of control. She leaned in and whispered something in his ear. “Mom!” Lucas started to speak but stopped when Mrs. Johnson shot him a commanding look, like a general in charge of a battlefield. “Fine, you can get a divorce,” she said with a calm, calculating smile. “But besides the house, we’ll need an extra million dollars in compensation.” Compensation? I let out a cold laugh. I hadn’t even begun to charge them for the emotional damage they had caused me over the years. “You can have the car too, along with the house. That’s it. I’m going away on business, Lucas. You have three days to think it over. Let me know your decision.” Before they could react, I went to the bedroom, packed some clothes and personal items, and left with my suitcase. As I drove out of Greenwood Apartments, I noticed a shadowy figure lurking nearby. Thank goodness I had planned to stop by the grocery store first instead of driving straight to the Private Estate. Otherwise, I might’ve been caught. If they want to play games, I’ll play along. I pulled over and quickly sent out a few texts. The replies came swiftly, with a confirmation emoji. Good thing I’d kept contact information handy for just such an occasion. Watching the figure getting closer through the rearview mirror, I pretended to take a phone call and raised my voice. “Yes… Room 1705 at the Hilton Nashville Downtown? Sure, I’ll be there in half an hour. You go ahead and wait for me.” I hung up the phone, cranked up the music, and sped off, feeling lighthearted. I drove straight to the hotel. After parking, I hurried inside, slipping into a quiet corner of the lobby where I could watch the elevators. Sure enough, Lucas stormed in a few minutes later, his face dark with anger. Hooked! I immediately dialed 911. “Hi, I’d like to report suspicious activity in Room 1705 of the Hilton Nashville Downtown. There might be something illegal going on. Please send someone to check it out. Thank you.” Since the hotel was located in a busy part of the city, and with the local authorities eager to maintain public safety, the police responded quickly. Within the time it took to drink a coffee, Lucas and a woman dressed provocatively were escorted out of the hotel by the police. “Let go of me! I’m here to see my wife!” Lucas protested, struggling against the officers. A young officer sternly questioned him, “Where’s your wife? Is she really your wife? Can you even tell me her name?” Lucas was at a loss for words. An older officer sighed, “Son, just admit your mistake and move on. It’s not that big of a deal.” Then, they were all loaded into the police car and taken away. Problem temporarily solved, I headed to the grocery store, buying whatever I felt like. By the time I checked out, I had two carts full. As I was loading the items into my car, my phone rang. “Hello, is this Lucas Johnson’s family? This is the police department. Your husband has been detained for illegal behavior. Please come down to the station to arrange bail.” “What? Lucas would never do something like that!” I feigned shock. “I’ll be there right away.” Who was I kidding? I quickly hung up and called Mrs. Johnson. “Hi, Mrs. Johnson. The police just called. Your son has been arrested for some misconduct. If you don’t want him to suffer, you’d better bring money to the station!” I hung up before she could respond. As the night settled in, I parked the car in the private garage of the estate and quietly returned to the apartment building. I watched from the shadows as Lucas’s parents hurried out of the building, shouting and cursing the whole way. Once I was sure they were far enough away, I took the elevator back up to the apartment and quickly set up a few hidden cameras in some discreet spots. I wanted to make sure I could catch every humiliating moment of their downfall. My heart pounded. It was my first time doing something like this, and I couldn’t help feeling a bit nervous. Time was ticking. I had to hurry. I took a deep breath to calm myself and connected the cameras to my phone. Even if the internet cut out, I could still monitor them in real-time through the device. Before leaving, I double-checked that the cameras were well hidden. Satisfied, I quietly left the apartment. By the time I returned to the Private Estate, it was late. To avoid disturbing the neighbors, the construction crews had stopped work promptly at 8 p.m., as per regulations. I inspected the progress and was pleased with the results. At this pace, the place would be ready in just ten days. Money, after all, was the ultimate motivator. I had converted most of my remaining cash into gold. As any basic economics course would teach, gold and silver were always the safest currencies. I hid the shiny treasures in the most secret corner of the basement. Unless someone drained the entire three-month water supply, no one would ever find them. After a long bath, I curled up on the couch, snacking and watching TV, savoring the peaceful moment. Looking at myself in the mirror post-shower, I couldn’t help but notice how different I looked. I had money, I had looks—why had I ever settled for a man like Lucas for three whole years? Love really did blind women. We could turn trash into something shiny and clean, fooling ourselves completely. Checking the time, I pulled out my phone and opened my messaging app. The three-person “loving family” had returned home and were sitting in the living room, recounting the events of the evening. Mrs. Johnson flicked Lucas on the forehead. “I told you to keep an eye on her, and instead, you got yourself arrested?” Lucas scratched his head, frustrated. “I really did hear her say she was going to the hotel! Otherwise, why would I have gone there… Mom, I told you this kind of thing isn’t for me. You made me do it!” Mrs. Johnson sighed heavily, clearly disappointed. “I wanted you to catch her cheating so we could get more in the divorce. Do you even know how much money she has? If you let her walk away without giving you anything, all you’ll have left is this old house and that beat-up car. Don’t be stupid, son!” “I’m not getting a divorce!” Lucas shouted. “Yeah, I admit I went after her because of the money at first, but after all this time, I do have feelings for her!” So, it had all been a scheme from the start. I almost felt sorry for my past self. Almost. Mr. Johnson put his hand on Lucas’s shoulder. “Feelings? What good are feelings? You think she loves you? The house, the car, the money—it’s all in her name. You care about her, but does she care about you? Divorce would be better. At least you’d walk away with something.” “Exactly!” Mrs. Johnson clapped her hands, already imagining their future. “That house is in a prime location. It’s only going to go up in value. And that car is worth tens of thousands. Talk to her, ask for more compensation, and find yourself a better girl.” Mrs. Johnson was practically giddy with excitement. “Besides, do you even know what she’s doing when she’s out? She could’ve been with someone else this whole time. You trust her too much! A woman running her own business? You think that’s easy? Without paying some kind of price, where’d all that money come from?” “Son, the only people who truly care about you are your parents!” “Would we ever steer you wrong?” Watching Lucas waver under their barrage of manipulation, I quietly turned off my phone. A man with no backbone would always be controlled by others. The next day, I went to work with dark circles under my eyes. As I tried to sleep that night, memories of Lucas’s tenderness and the cold reality of his family’s true nature swirled in my mind. Perhaps I hadn’t grown enough, because their words still stung. By the middle of the night, I gave up on sleeping and got out of bed to bury myself in work. The factory workers were my partners, people who had stood by me through thick and thin. With the apocalypse looming, I couldn’t let them down. Carrying a rough draft of my plans, I walked into the office. My assistant, Samantha Foster, immediately brought me a cup of water. “Faye, did you not sleep again? Your dark circles are so bad,” she said with concern. I smiled and asked her to tally up yesterday’s collections and calculate the performance bonuses for each employee as we discussed. By the afternoon, my phone was ringing off the hook—calls from various wholesalers I’d ordered supplies from. I wolfed down my lunch and texted Samantha, letting her know I’d be heading out of town on a business trip to Miami, Florida, and would return in three days. That would be enough time to handle everything. At the warehouse, the delivery trucks were already lined up. I quickly unlocked the doors and directed the workers to unload the goods. One of the truck drivers, eyeing the piles of clothes, food, and electronics, asked curiously, “What’s all this for? Planning something big?” I smiled. “We’re doing a company retreat and taking some supplies to a community in need.” The driver’s expression turned serious, and I felt a bit guilty for lying. Lately, I’d been spinning a lot of these half-truths. Maybe it was time I did something good for a change, to balance things out. Once everything was unloaded, I noticed a few missed calls from Lucas and Samantha. I quickly called Samantha back. “What’s up?” I asked. “Faye, Lucas showed up at the office looking for you. I told him you were on a trip to Miami, but he didn’t believe me. He made quite a scene before finally leaving.” Ugh, what a headache. “Don’t worry, I’ll handle it,” I assured her. “Are you two okay?” Samantha asked. “Oh, just the usual marital spat. Nothing serious,” I lied casually. After hanging up, I noticed the trucks were long gone, leaving me alone in the now-empty warehouse. Staring at all the supplies, I realized I couldn’t just leave them scattered everywhere. So, I started organizing, loading up my car with boxes and driving straight to the Private Estate. On the way, I stopped at the hardware store and ordered sturdy shelving units that would fit perfectly in the basement. I paid an extra $10,000 to have them delivered and installed the next afternoon. On the way back, I also stopped at a rental company and secured a small truck, agreeing to park it near the estate at 8 p.m. Once everything was arranged, I drove home, feeling the summer evening’s breeze brush against my face, the future now seeming just a bit brighter.

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Every time I see her flirting with those men, I feel so embarrassed! What’s most confusing to me is that she’s in her mid-forties, yet she still yearns for love. I always mock her for it. “With the way you act, Mom, I’m probably the only one in this world who’ll still love you,” I’d say. She’d just smile at me, tugging at my cheek while laughing. “Plenty of men are chasing me, kiddo!” And honestly, that was true. There were a lot of men interested in her. But she didn’t care about any of them, except one—a man who was sixteen years younger than her. And she was the one who made the first move. That man was named Axel Whitlock. He had this whole “refined bad boy” thing going on, with gold-rimmed glasses that somehow made him look even more dangerous. He was good-looking, with sharp brows, striking eyes, a straight nose, and lips that always looked like they came straight out of a fashion ad. He was tall, around six feet, and his pale skin made the tattoos on his arms stand out even more. The first time I saw him, I was frozen for a moment. For a while, Axel Whitlock was a regular at Hawthorne’s Smokehouse, my mom’s barbecue joint. Every time, he’d call me over to take his order, get him a drink, or bring him some more food. He always stared at me, openly complimenting how pretty I was. Honestly, I felt shy and a little annoyed by it. I didn’t want to run errands for him, but when he handed me a twenty-dollar tip, suddenly, I didn’t mind so much. Axel always ordered a huge amount of barbecue, claiming he couldn’t finish it all, and then smiling as he passed me some of the food. I had barbecue to eat every night, and I could eat as much as I wanted without my mom getting on my case. So, my impression of Axel wasn’t all that bad. Until that one night. My mom brought Axel into the back room, where she and I slept. They were in there for a long time. I stood by the door, listening. I heard my mom giggling, sounding more flirtatious than usual. Then there were sounds of chairs scraping across the floor. After a moment, I heard Axel laugh, too. When my mom finally came out, I angrily confronted her. “What were you two doing in there?” “Just talking,” she said, laughing as she ran her fingers through her hair. But her eyes were scanning me, up and down. That only made me angrier. Her look seemed to say, “You’re just a kid; you wouldn’t understand.” “Just talking? You were alone with a guy in a room for an hour, and you expect me to believe you were just talking?” My mom suddenly laughed, reached out, and pinched my cheek affectionately. “Relax, honey. Axel’s going to take care of me for the rest of my life.” I was stunned. First, I couldn’t believe how fast she’d found someone. And second, was Axel seriously into my mom? Was he blind? I opened my mouth, but no words came out. I knew there was no way I could stop my mom from being with another man. After all, when I was just five, she divorced my dad and raised me alone, too afraid to remarry in case a stepdad might treat me poorly. Now that I was grown, I had no right to stand in the way of her happiness. Besides, she’d found a guy she liked. And he wasn’t just good-looking—he was wealthy, and he’d promised to take care of her for life. But that night, I still buried my head in my pillow and cried hard. I couldn’t help but feel that soon, I’d become the forgotten child. My mom would be like my dad—she’d build a new family and forget all about me. The day after my mom told me Axel would take care of her for life, we moved. Axel bought the house. It was a three-bedroom apartment in Aspen Ridge Apartments, just a thirty-minute drive from Maple Creek High School, where I went to school. It was my first time living in such a nice place. It wasn’t just clean and spacious—it was peaceful. And when you turned on the lights, it was like something out of an influencer’s Instagram post.

At first, I resisted the move, but after seeing my new bedroom with a giant bed all to myself, I quickly changed my mind. That change of heart took about thirty seconds. As I lay on that soft, comfortable bed, I started thinking, maybe Axel wasn’t so bad for my mom after all. Still, one thing had me nervous. I was going to be living under the same roof as Axel. A week later, he finally moved in. And when he did, he brought along a little girl who couldn’t have been more than five years old. “Say hi to everyone, Ivy,” Axel said, looking down at her with a warm smile. “Hi, Auntie! Hi, big sister!” She was adorable, round-faced and pale, looking just like a little doll. I smiled warmly at her. It didn’t take more than a day for us to get along. I found out she was Axel’s daughter from his ex-wife. “Look, this is my mommy,” Ivy said, pulling a picture out of her backpack. It was a family photo, and her mom had this graceful, almost aristocratic look to her. I couldn’t help comparing her to my mom, and, honestly, they were worlds apart. One was a high-society lady, the other, well, just a regular woman. I had to wonder—did Axel have a problem with his vision, or was there something else going on? “Mom loves my brother more than me. She doesn’t love me, so she left me with Daddy. I don’t like her anymore,” Ivy said, her little lips pouting and her eyes welling up with tears. Seeing that she was about to cry, I quickly handed her a doll and said, “Hey, how about we play house?” “Okay!” Ivy cheered up instantly. I looked up and saw Axel standing in the doorway, watching us with a smile on his face. The whole situation felt weird. I quickly got up and left the room. But I could still feel his gaze following me until I shut the door. After that, things only got stranger. My mom was with Axel, but at the same time, it didn’t feel like they were really together. I understood why they weren’t having a wedding, since it was a second marriage for both. But why weren’t they even getting a marriage license? Plus, they didn’t sleep in the same room. Actually, Axel never stayed in the apartment at night. As soon as it got dark, he’d grab his car keys and leave. My mom always laughed it off, saying he was some sort of night owl, always busy after dark. But something about the whole situation seemed off. After thinking about it all night, I came to a conclusion. It must’ve been because I was around, so they couldn’t have their alone time. After giving it some thought, I decided to move into the school dorms. But when I brought it up, my mom got furious. “Living at school is out of the question! Don’t bring it up again!” she snapped. I was confused. They were newlyweds, right? Wouldn’t they want me out of the way? At the same time, though, a part of me felt happy. My mom still cared about me more. “If she wants to live at school, let her,” Axel said as he came in from outside. My mom looked surprised but quickly regained her composure. She turned to me with a softer expression. “Well, if Axel says it’s okay, then fine, you can go.” Even though she’d been calling him “Axel” this whole time, hearing it again made me pause for a second. I thanked him, addressing him as “Uncle Axel” out of habit, and started to head back to my room. Normally, I tried to avoid being around Axel whenever he was at home, just to give them some space. But this time, as I stood up to leave, I noticed Axel frowning. Suddenly, he grabbed my arm and pulled me back onto the couch. He stared at me seriously for a while before finally saying, “I’m only ten years older than you. Calling me ‘Uncle’ feels weird. How about just calling me by my name?” “I’m pretty laid-back. I don’t care about formalities.” A wave of unease washed over me, and I glanced over at my mom. “Young people are easygoing like that. It’s fine. I’m easygoing too,” she said with a smile, raising her hands behind her head as she leaned back on the couch. But the way she looked at Axel didn’t seem like she was looking at a husband. I shook my head and hurried back to my room. Then I heard my mom calling after me from the living room. “Looks like my girl’s all grown up—she’s even getting shy!” And then Axel’s deep, carefree laughter followed. My heart felt more tangled than ever. Something was off—I just couldn’t put my finger on it. When I finally moved into the school dorms, I learned something shocking about Axel Whitlock. Something I never would’ve guessed.

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“Daisy, mommy’s going to the restroom. You stay right here and wait for me, okay?” I looked at the young Janine Brooks, barely in her twenties, and felt a moment of confusion. Seeing me remain silent, she let out an awkward laugh. “My little Daisy isn’t much of a talker,” she explained to the people around us before disappearing into the crowd. It all came rushing back to me. She didn’t dare sell me outright, so she found an excuse to leave me here. In reality, she was calling the traffickers. In my previous life, I didn’t know this. I believed she had really gone to the restroom and waited obediently like a fool. Soon after, a woman dressed similarly to her came and took me away. I was terrified and cried desperately, but the woman insisted that I was just throwing a tantrum after waiting too long. No one around us thought anything was strange. That’s how I ended up shoved into a car, taken to the traffickers’ hideout. They blinded me and threw me onto the streets to beg. At the time, I truly believed it was just bad luck. I kept hoping she would come back to save me. I waited for five years. During the freezing winter, I knelt in the snow with thin clothes, my hands and feet blistered from the cold. The summer was worse. Sweat would trickle into my open wounds, the sharp sting making me cry out in pain. That’s when I realized that crying could make people feel sorry for me. A little blind girl, as skinny as a stick, crying nonstop — it tugged at people’s hearts. I became good at it, and the money I begged for gradually increased. Slowly, I was able to eat, and the beatings went from daily to every three days. But the darkness around me wasn’t just physical. It consumed my entire life. I had nothing left to hope for. My entire being became numb, like the walking dead. I got very sick, a sickness that went deep into my bones. When the traffickers were about to sell me to a gang in rural Mexico, a group of police officers stormed in. That’s when I found out that the little boy who had been following me around, limping, was Ryan Pierce, the youngest son of the Pierce family. For five years, Michael and Linda Pierce never gave up looking for him, and they took down a number of human trafficking rings in the process. This time, they finally found Ryan — and they saved me too. Ryan told them that without me, he wouldn’t have survived. To thank me, Michael Pierce gave me the name Ellie Pierce and adopted me. Ellie, like the first light of dawn. Linda Pierce felt sorry for me and hired the world’s best doctors to perform surgery, restoring my sight. But Ryan’s leg could never be fixed. I snapped back to reality and glanced at the clock hanging in the mall, breaking out in a cold sweat. Five minutes had passed. The traffickers Janine Brooks contacted would be here any moment! I turned and ran. This time, I would never fall into their hands again! “Hey? Where are you going? Didn’t your mom tell you to wait for her?” People around me tried to stop me. But I knew if I didn’t run, I’d be doomed to the same tragic fate as before. I had forgotten, though — I was only four years old! My legs were short, and my stamina was weak. A man easily grabbed me. “Daisy, where do you think you’re going?” My scalp tingled with fear. That voice — it was the same man who had blinded me! I wanted to scream for help, but my throat felt like it was blocked. Years of terror made me instinctively start trembling. Tears rolled down my cheeks in big, silent drops. The man smiled and pulled me into his arms. “Daddy’s here, Daisy. Be good, don’t cry.” He sounded like a kind, loving father. No one around us doubted his words. Because I had run, the woman from my previous life didn’t show up. Instead, they sent a man, stronger and more determined. They were sure they would get me this time. Was I really out of options? Would I have to live through that nightmare again? Despair engulfed me, making me cry even harder. Suddenly, I spotted the newly opened KFC in the mall. I forced myself to stop crying and yelled out, “Daddy! I want French fries!” The man hesitated for a moment, clearly not expecting me to call him ‘daddy.’ His brow furrowed, and he started walking faster. When he ignored me, I screamed even louder. “I want French fries! Bad daddy! You bought some for my brother, but not for me!” “I have my own money! Let me go, I’ll buy them myself!” I started thrashing, reaching out to pull a nearby woman’s hair. “Auntie! Buy me some fries! I’ve got money! My dad is being unfair!” The woman yelped in pain. “Let go of me!” She glared at the man. “What kind of father are you? It’s just fries. How could you deny your own daughter something so small?” She tried to pry my hands out of her hair. The man got angry. “Mind your own business!” He yanked me up, squeezing my waist hard. His other hand reached for my flailing arm. I screamed, let go of the woman, and clung to the man’s head, blocking his face with my body as I thrashed around. “If you don’t give me fries, we’ll die together!” The fries were just an excuse. What I really wanted was to end it all with him. I’d rather die than live through that endless darkness again! Fueled by sheer willpower, I found strength beyond my small body. I yanked his hair, pinched his ears, and covered his nose. “Why can my brother have KFC, but not me? I haven’t eaten in two days!” The man stumbled, struggling to keep his balance. “You little brat, let go of me!” I cried even harder, grabbing his head with both hands. “Daddy doesn’t love me!” A crowd had gathered, all pointing at the man. “How can people still act like this in this day and age?” “This isn’t just favoring boys over girls, this is abuse!” The man was enraged and in pain. As he finally began to fall, he reached out to grab me. “You little—” I screamed and thrashed, “Daddy, don’t kill me!” I kicked him hard in the eyes. “My eyes!” he yelled. I almost laughed. How much damage could a four-year-old really do? Unfortunately, I couldn’t blind him for real. But I kept up my terrified act, scrambling away. Finally, some bystanders intervened, holding back the furious man. “It’s just a kid, and all she did was kick you! No need to go overboard!” “Yeah, don’t take your anger out on a child. Your eyes aren’t even injured.” “Relax, this mall is super safe. No one’s getting kidnapped here.” I zigzagged through the crowd and hid in a small storage room. The painful memories of my previous life flooded back. No. I wouldn’t go through that again. I still had to save Ryan, and my adoptive parents. Back then, when I was thrown into that van, there were already several other children inside. One of them was Ryan, and his legs were still intact. By the time we were brought back to the hideout that night, there were over ten of us, and none left unharmed.

At the time, I fought desperately, but it was useless. A sharp pain hit me, and my eyes closed. I passed out. When I woke up, a small child was leaning against my back. When I moved, he woke up and started crying softly. I was used to soothing my baby brother, so I instinctively patted his back and asked, “Baby, are you hungry?” The baby was Lucas Brooks, my little brother. He was the family’s treasure, while I was the extra baggage. Whenever he cried, I got scared. If I didn’t calm him down quickly, I would get beaten for no reason. But this child was easier to soothe than my brother. He immediately stopped crying and touched my eyelids. “Does it hurt?” Did it hurt? No one had ever asked me that before. Tears started pouring down my face. “Yes.” I hadn’t realized it before, but being cared for made me feel weak. I didn’t even know you could cry without having eyes. Panicking, the boy wiped away my tears with his small hands. “Don’t cry, don’t cry. Your wounds will get infected.” “Don’t worry, I can still see.” “Are you hungry?” He spoke softly, and then he put something in my mouth. It was sweet and delicious, something I had never tasted before. “What is this?” I asked. “Chocolate. I have lots at home. When we get out of here, I’ll give it all to you.” I smiled through my sniffles. “You should keep it.” I had a feeling we might never make it out, and worse, we might not survive at all. That night, two children didn’t make it. I overheard them talking about selling our organs. Hearts, lungs… everything had a price. I trembled in fear. People were just like pigs to them, sold off in pieces. “Check if there are any more who won’t make it. We’ll send them all off together.” Someone began checking each of us. The boy next to me was burning up. I knew he had a fever. I kept putting my hands on the cold floor and then pressing them to his forehead. Soon, the men reached us. “This girl is well-behaved and pretty. She could be useful in a few years.” “Heh, even the little ones now?” They grabbed my chin, discussing me with disgusting smiles. When they’d had enough of their jokes, they pushed me aside. I held onto his hand tightly. I was afraid that if I let go, I wouldn’t be able to find him again. Sure enough, one of the men said, “This boy’s got a fever.” “Of course he does, you broke his leg!” “It’s not too bad. Let’s keep him a couple more days.” Their voices faded as they walked away. I breathed a sigh of relief and loosened the boy’s shirt. “Are you okay? Loosen your clothes a bit, and the fever will go down.” He seemed to still be conscious, turning over to cooperate. “You know how to cool someone down?” he asked weakly. “I’ve done it for my brother.” I looked after him for three days. We were ‘lucky’ enough to survive. We watched out for each other and made it through five years. I searched my memory. We had been taken away in a white van. If I could find that van, I could save Ryan! But with my small body, I’d be caught the moment they saw me. Not to mention Janine Brooks was still out there. If I escaped, would the traffickers send her to get me? She was my legal guardian. No one would question her if she took me. But what if I wasn’t me anymore? An idea flashed through my mind, and I started searching the storage room. I found a pair of clippers. I shaved off all my hair and turned my clothes inside out. I looked like a scrappy little boy now. I stuffed a sharp tool into my pocket and quietly slipped out, heading for the mall’s back entrance. The traffickers wouldn’t park at the main entrance. If I was lucky, I’d find the van soon, memorize the license plate, and call the police. Not just Ryan — all the kids could be saved! But luck wasn’t on my side. I’d barely taken a few steps when Janine Brooks spotted me. She grabbed me by the collar and yanked me up. “You little brat, think you can run away?” In the air, I grabbed onto the leg of the woman I’d pulled hair from earlier. “Help me! I don’t know her!” I looked up and realized it was the same woman. She blinked at me in surprise. Then she pulled me into her arms. “You’re not her mother! She came here with her dad!” I clung to her like she was my lifeline. “Sister, help me! My mom is the wife of Michael Pierce! Can I borrow your phone?” “She’s a trafficker! She wants to sell me!” Janine Brooks’ face turned pale. “What nonsense are you spouting? I’m your mother!” I quickly spoke up. “Sister, she shaved my head to make me look like a boy! Help me, my mom is rich. She’ll thank you!” The woman took pity on me. “I’ll call your mom right away.” She believed me and pulled out her phone. “Do you know her number?” I nodded vigorously. In my past life, after Ryan disappeared, my parents never changed their numbers, hoping for any call with news. Janine Brooks stared at me in disbelief and called my name again, “Daisy?” I ignored her and clung to my savior, crying. “Sister, the traffickers parked a white van by the back door! There are lots of kids inside. Please help them!” I was so specific that everyone thought I’d just escaped from there. In a flash, they all rushed to the back door, and sure enough, there was a white van. Even the security guards gathered, and after hearing what was going on, they pried the van open. But it was empty. Everyone looked at each other in confusion, and I froze. Did they leave early because I escaped? Panic washed over me, my palms clammy with cold sweat. Janine Brooks, who had been terrified just moments ago, regained her composure. She rushed forward, trying to grab me again. “I told you she was making it all up! You’ve all been tricked by a little kid! There were never any traffickers!”

The woman holding me took a few steps back, avoiding any confrontation. “Don’t lay a hand on me. Even if the van is empty, this still isn’t your kid!” Having seen me with my ‘dad’ and hearing my phone call, she had no doubts about the identity I had created. I clung to her, full of gratitude. “Thank you so much! My mom is on her way!” Involving Ryan meant I knew Linda Pierce was already en route. Janine Brooks rolled her eyes at me. “You little brat, I just went to the restroom, and now you’re running around calling random people ‘Mom’? You’ve really lost it!” She flashed a photo from her phone. It was one she had accidentally taken of me while trying to capture a picture of her precious son. “Look at this! I took this at home!” she said, showing the picture. In the photo, four-year-old me was kneeling on the floor, scrubbing it clean, while a little boy lounged on the couch, stuffing strawberries into his mouth with one hand and tossing the strawberry tops at me with the other. A few people around us couldn’t help but look uncomfortable at the sight. “Even if she’s your kid, isn’t it a bit much to have someone this young doing that kind of work?” “Yeah, that looks like child abuse.” Someone pieced things together from the earlier incident with the man. “So you are her mom, and you’re just like her dad!” Janine didn’t bother defending herself anymore. She lunged toward me, trying to grab me back. “What’s that supposed to mean? You’re trying to steal my kid?” Seeing the woman holding me hesitate, I decided to shout, “You took money from the traffickers! You want to sell me! This is child trafficking, and you’re going to jail for it!” “Shut your mouth!” Janine’s face turned red as her scheme was exposed. “You tricked me into going to the restroom, but you were actually calling the traffickers! Deleting the call logs won’t help — the cops will find out!” As everyone gasped, I threw in another bombshell. This was something Janine had once boasted about to me in my past life, just before drugging me. By then, the Pierce Corporation had been divided, and everything had fallen under the control of Michael Pierce’s brother. Janine had revealed all her deceit to me while I was slipping into unconsciousness. It was then I realized how foolish I’d been to wait five whole years, expecting the person who had orchestrated it all to come and save me. But now, before Linda arrived, news came that the entire mall had been locked down. Not just this one — the entire shopping district was sealed off temporarily. I couldn’t help but feel a rush of warmth in my chest. The Pierce family had already made their move! With no one able to leave, the crowd settled in to watch the drama unfold. It didn’t take long for the security guards to detain Janine. “Until Mrs. Pierce arrives, you’re not going anywhere,” one of them said. Janine didn’t believe I actually knew anyone important, but there was a flicker of doubt in her eyes. “Why are you restricting my freedom?” Suddenly, the sound of screeching tires pierced through the noise. A deep purple Rolls-Royce Cullinan roared into view, stopping with a dramatic spin right in front of everyone. The door flew open, and Linda Pierce jumped out of the driver’s seat. “Who made the call?” she demanded. She was as bold as ever, but her flawless makeup had started to smudge, revealing a hint of exhaustion beneath her strong demeanor. In my previous life, she hadn’t crumbled when Ryan went missing. Instead, she encouraged her husband to continue the search, and together, they combed the entire country. It was her perseverance that eventually saved us. Could someone like her really have suffered from depression and taken her own life? Doubts began creeping into my mind, but I shoved them aside for now. I scrambled over to her. “Mom! I know where Ryan is! He was taken in a white van, and if we don’t hurry, they’ll break his leg!” A flash of panic crossed Linda’s face, and she quickly pulled out her phone. “Contact Chief Thompson immediately! Block every white van that left Midtown Shopping Center in the past hour.” After giving the orders, she turned to the crowd. “Thank you all for helping us find a lead. Each of you will receive a $10,000 reward. Please wait a moment while I speak with…” She looked at me. I straightened up and replied, “My name is Ellie!” I much preferred Ellie over the name Daisy. She nodded, picking me up and placing me in the car. “I need to have a word with Ellie.” The promise of money sent the crowd into a cheer, and some even nudged Janine toward the security guards. I quickly added, “Mom, she’s working with the traffickers! She just called them!” Linda didn’t even have to respond. The security guards jumped in eagerly, taking Janine into custody. “Don’t worry, Mrs. Pierce. We’ve got her.” Linda nodded, then closed the car door and turned to me, her face full of concern. “You’ve seen Ryan? He gave you my number? Did you escape from the van? Why didn’t he come with you?” The questions came fast and hard. But seeing my mom alive and well for the first time again made me choke up. I threw myself into her arms, tears flowing uncontrollably. After a long moment, I finally managed to speak through my sobs. “Mom… I missed you so much!” Linda froze for a moment as she held me. “What did you just call me?” she asked, her voice soft but surprised. “N-Nothing.” I quickly pulled away from her embrace, stumbling over my words. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Pierce. I just really like you.” Linda chuckled softly. “Well, even though it’s our first time meeting, I like you too.” She handed me a bottle of water and said kindly, “Take a drink. When you’re feeling better, tell me everything that happened, okay?” “Okay!” Her warmth soothed my nerves, and I slowly recounted how Janine had tricked me and how I had escaped from the man. I also told her about Ryan, pretending that I had overheard everything while being held by the man. “How did you know my phone number?” she asked. I smiled. “I saw it on TV.” As the vice president of Pierce Corporation, she naturally had a public contact number. Linda pulled me into another hug. “Ellie, you’re amazing!” Her praise was genuine. After all, who would expect a four-year-old to remember a phone number from a brief TV appearance? Once she had reassured me, Linda made a few more phone calls. It didn’t take long before the police arrived and joined the security guards in the mall’s surveillance room. Within minutes, Janine Brooks was handcuffed. She hurled insults at me as they dragged her away. “You ungrateful brat! I raised you, and this is how you repay me?” “You should’ve gone with them willingly — at least you’d be of some use!” “She’s my daughter! If I want to sell her, I can! What right do you have to arrest me?” Every word stabbed deep, revealing her cruelty and stupidity. And every word was evidence. Linda covered my ears. “Don’t worry, Ellie. Your mom’s here now.” I hugged her back, my heart aching and filled with gratitude. Mom, this time, I won’t let you suffer from depression! As much as Janine hated it, the police took her away. The crowd cheered and looked at me with sympathetic eyes. Linda carried me to the car, ready to offer me some words of comfort, but then her phone rang. The good news was that there had been only one white van leaving Midtown Shopping Center in that time frame. The bad news was that the van had already left the city limits, and they’d lost it on surveillance.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “294965”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster #现实主义Realistic #浪漫Romance #惊悚Thriller #励志Inspiring

Orion Hartley. Born into a powerful military family, he was already leading troops by the time he turned sixteen. His only flaw? Too many wives and mistresses. When I was brought into his home, I became his fifth wife. The First Wife, Vivienne Davenport, came from an old-money family and had been promised to Orion since they were children. The Second Wife, Seraphine Wilder, was once the star of the jazz scene at the famous Redwood Lounge. She could sing and dance like no other. The Third Wife, Moira Callahan, was Orion’s first love, a wealthy heiress who had just returned from studying abroad. The Fourth Wife, Delilah Rayne, came to Willowcreek as a refugee during the chaotic times. She was a doctor and once saved Orion’s life by accident. Talk about a line-up. A childhood sweetheart, A temptress, The first stirrings of love, And the untouchable woman of his dreams. And then, there’s me—awkwardly thrown into the mix by my father. I blame him for my situation, but I can’t be picky now. Marriage is marriage, after all, and it’s not like I had a choice. Now that I’m here, I’ve already crossed the threshold. But honestly, how could I possibly compete with them? Especially with Seraphine, the Second Wife, who had quite the temper. One wrong move, and I’d be forced to kneel in submission. I’d often tell myself, “It doesn’t matter. I’m already married. If I die, then so be it.” After spending some time with them, I noticed they all had distinct personalities. Vivienne, the First Wife, spent her time gardening, doing embroidery, or copying religious texts. She held onto old-fashioned values and rarely involved herself in our affairs, but when she did, she could silence us all. Seraphine, on the other hand, spent her free time playing poker or practicing her singing and dancing. You could hear her muttering about winning hands even in her sleep. “Bingo! Pay up!” She had a certain charm about her—loved money, but wasn’t exactly greedy. Her beauty was famous, rivaling the most glamorous women in the city. Moira, the Third Wife, was outspoken and straightforward. Though she acted tough, she had a soft heart. Despite her brashness, she loved gossip—there wasn’t a secret in Willowcreek that she didn’t know. Delilah, the Fourth Wife, was the one I got along with best. She was calm, non-competitive, and had a gentle demeanor. I’d heard she traveled with a medical mentor before arriving here. Her skills were rumored to be exceptional. In the Hartley Estate, the most intense rivalry was between Seraphine and Moira. Moira’s straightforwardness clashed with Seraphine’s theatrical flair. Whenever those two were in the same room, an argument was bound to happen. With war on the rise in the city, many wealthy families were fleeing. The servants at the estate had either left or disappeared, and with Orion away at the military camp, we wives were left to fend for ourselves. Seraphine, desperate to find poker buddies, dragged Moira, Delilah, and me into a game. When Moira beat Seraphine with a winning hand, another argument broke out, and we left the table in chaos. Delilah and I were utterly confused, watching them storm off.

I don’t remember what day it was, but another round of gunfire echoed from somewhere in the distance. Seraphine, though she’d never admit it, was scared and clung to me, refusing to leave my room. Meanwhile, Delilah came by to treat my back injury. How did I hurt my back, you ask? Well, Seraphine had complained that Moira didn’t put enough salt in the soup. The two argued so fiercely in the kitchen that I feared they’d start a brawl. In trying to stop them, I twisted my back. Bang! Bang bang! More shots rang out from afar, and the quiet night suddenly became terrifying. When Moira came in and saw Seraphine wrapped tightly in my blanket, she couldn’t help but laugh. A moment later, Vivienne arrived, having heard the commotion. By then, the entire city had lost power—an area-wide blackout, possibly caused by the military searching for a spy’s transmitter. The five of us huddled together in my small bedroom, the atmosphere strangely… comforting. “So, how about lighting a candle and playing some cards?” Moira teased Seraphine. Moonlight streamed through the window, revealing Seraphine’s head poking out from beneath the blanket. She was, without a doubt, the queen of gambling. But of course, none of us had the heart to play. Vivienne had been trying to contact Orion all night, but with no luck. We all feared the worst. Out of the five of us, I was the only one whose parents were still alive. But my father? He’d run off with the money long ago. No help there. We had no choice but to stick together. It was a long night. By the time the sun rose, we finally dared to return to our rooms to get some rest. But just as I lay down, enemy planes roared overhead, dropping bombs. Willowcreek had fallen.

To avoid the worst of the disaster, we were escorted to an air raid shelter by military officers. From last night to now, I had only slept a couple of hours. Everyone was groggy as we were herded into the shelter. We didn’t bring much food, but fortunately, the officers knew we were Orion Hartley’s wives and treated us with extra care. For the first time, I felt what it was like to truly share hardship with others. Inside the shelter, some civilians starved to death, unable to find food. Others risked their lives to search outside but never returned. There were even pregnant women who died from complications because there wasn’t proper medical care. A few days later, a group of officers in yellow uniforms arrived, speaking in a language we didn’t understand. They pointed their guns at us and ordered everyone to kneel with their hands on their heads. Delilah quickly sensed the danger and smeared dirt on our faces. They began speaking in broken English, asking who was Orion’s wife. None of us dared stand up. The lead officer spoke again, saying if we didn’t reveal ourselves, they’d kill every one of us, starting from the top and working their way down. Three, two, one… “I’m Orion Hartley’s wife!” I wanted to say it for Vivienne, the First Wife. I had already prepared myself mentally to do so. But in the end, it was she who bravely stood up and faced them. They tied her up and were about to take her away when one of the soldiers spotted Seraphine, the Second Wife, crouched in the corner. Their faces twisted with lecherous grins as Seraphine quickly lowered her head. “You… what’s your name?” Again, the broken English and sleazy tone made my stomach churn. Seraphine stayed silent, frozen with fear, unable to utter a word. “You, not talk? Good.” They dragged her out, her beauty still visible even beneath the layer of dirt smeared on her face. She was the type of woman who could catch anyone’s eye, even in a crowd. And just like that, without warning, they took both Seraphine and Vivienne. Moira, the Third Wife, clutched my sleeve so tightly her whole body trembled. It wasn’t until the soldiers were far off that she finally let go, shaking from head to toe. Now it was just the three of us. The room still echoed with the horror of what had just happened. “I should’ve saved them… we should’ve done something,” I muttered, my voice trembling as I fought back tears. Delilah, the Fourth Wife, stood there, pale as a ghost, frozen in place. “What do we do now? What are we supposed to do?” she whispered, her voice barely audible. I can’t die yet. I can’t die. We were herded into trucks—three of them. One filled with women, one with children, and one with men. Each truck drove off in a different direction. Moira turned to me, her voice shaking. “It’s the Japanese.” The Japanese. I grew up in the sheltered gardens of my childhood home, never thinking much of the world beyond. I used to believe that everyone spoke the same language as us. I didn’t understand what going abroad meant. I didn’t know how to use a phone, let alone worry about the affairs of the world. How naïve I had been. Every day, I rode in a rickety cab to eat at the same little diner in the alley. That had been my life. And now, we had been taken by the Japanese. They invaded our country. They had no sense of decency. Where was Orion? Was he dead? Where were they taking us? Would we ever come back to this land again? Sitting in the back of the truck, my thoughts spiraled. I wondered what I would look like in death. All I remember next is that someone came to save us. The deafening sound of gunfire filled the streets as chaos erupted. We were scattered, running through the once-bustling streets of Willowcreek. People were everywhere, pushing, shoving—I lost track of the others. I felt a sharp blow to the head. It was so loud, so chaotic. I thought I was going to die. But it wasn’t just a blow. I think I was shot. Oddly, though, there was no pain. Just a steady flow of blood pouring from my body. Fine, I thought, let it be. Death is death. It’s not like anyone cared about me. My father had abandoned me. My mother, too. Orion Hartley never loved me. I had no children, no family to mourn me. My life had been so small. There would be no one to shed a tear for me when I was gone. So, I let go. My eyelids grew heavy, and I drifted into a deep sleep. I dreamt of snow falling on Willowcreek. It was heavy, thick, covering the streets in white. But soon, the soldiers came—ruthless, unyielding, killing without mercy. Blood stained the streets as the people screamed and cried for help. I was powerless to stop it. The city was in chaos. Willowcreek was in chaos. Even the police who once protected us had become traitors, working hand in hand with the enemy. Even the soldiers who were supposed to stand for our nation had betrayed us. It had been so long since I’d seen snow.

Today marks one month since Zephyr Callahan saved me. My gunshot wound has almost fully healed, and I can move around freely again. Zephyr says I’m lucky to be alive, and honestly, I agree. Zephyr Callahan. A professor at Westgate Academy and a member of the Revolutionaries. He’s rescued countless people from the hands of the Japanese. To me, he’s a hero. One day, I asked Zephyr to find out what happened to Vivienne and the other wives. Seraphine… she was taken to Japan. No one knows where she is now. When Orion Hartley tried to rescue them, only Vivienne remained, imprisoned in an interrogation room. It had been so long, and finding Moira and Delilah was nearly impossible—there were no photographs of them, and time had made the search even harder. Honestly, the Japanese are nothing short of monsters. They’ve torn countless families apart. I told Zephyr that I wanted to join the revolution. He froze, clearly not expecting such words from someone like me—a once-spoiled, fragile heiress. At night, we’d sit in the garden and listen to the distant gunfire. Ever since the Japanese arrived, no one had been able to find peace. They’d barge into homes, searching for people, disrupting lives. It was all so reckless, so rude. I learned a new word from Zephyr. A name for the invaders: Japs. The little Japs. Zephyr sent me to the Revolutionaries’ base in Denver. It was where the movement had begun, and he agreed to let me join the fight. He was cautious at first, but over time, as I proved myself, he allowed me to accompany him on missions. We even infiltrated the Japanese officers’ quarters and stole important intel. It was crucial for our comrades. This was no game. I knew that. I packed my bags and left at the end of December. That trip lasted two years. In Denver, I met many revolutionaries—people I deeply admired. Every day, I trained hard in marksmanship and learned to speak Japanese fluently. I swore I’d become a patriot, just like them. They gave me a codename: Scholar. My superior was none other than Zephyr, the man who had saved me. His codename was Shadow. Two years later, I returned to Willowcreek, this time posing as a music teacher at Westgate Academy. My mission? Assist Zephyr in assassinating a high-ranking Japanese officer, Sato Masahiro. The Willowcreek I knew had changed. It was still bustling, but now there were Japanese-style buildings everywhere, and Japanese soldiers patrolled the streets. I wondered how Vivienne and the others were faring. Were they still alive? Zephyr introduced me as his cousin, and I even changed my name to Kendra Rayne for my cover. Through some connections, Zephyr got me into the officer’s mansion to teach Sato’s sister, Yuko, how to play piano. Yuko was also a student at Westgate. She seemed particularly interested in Zephyr, constantly asking me about him. As I grew closer to Yuko, she invited me to their family estate, the same place where we used to live. She showed me around the house, proudly describing every detail. But I couldn’t help but laugh bitterly. This was once our home, filled with laughter and joy. Now, the invaders walked its halls as if they owned it. The memories brought tears to my eyes, but I quickly held them back, not wanting Yuko to see. During dinner, Yuko cooked Japanese food—sushi and sashimi. She proudly explained each dish to me. After dinner, I offered to help clean up but accidentally cut my hand on a knife. Blood dripped onto the floor. Yuko panicked and called for the family’s private doctor to bandage me up. To my surprise, the doctor was none other than Delilah Rayne, the Fourth Wife. Delilah and I locked eyes, and in that moment, I wanted nothing more than to run to her and embrace her tightly. It had been two years since we last saw each other, and she had cut her once long, beautiful hair into a short bob. She stood frozen in shock, but I quickly regained my composure. “Doctor, will my hand be okay? Should I avoid water for a while?” Delilah, catching the signal, nodded and began to treat my wound. “The cut is deep, but as long as you keep it dry for three days, it should heal.” I nodded back. Yuko, still worried, apologized profusely. “Ms. Rayne, I’m so sorry.” Hearing her call me “Ms. Rayne,” Delilah glanced at me again. “It’s my fault for insisting on helping,” I replied, trying to deflect attention. Just as Delilah finished bandaging me up, Sato Masahiro walked in. I remembered him instantly—he was the same officer from the air raid shelter. My heart raced, but I forced myself to stay calm. “Brother, you’re back! I invited Ms. Rayne to join us for dinner,” Yuko announced cheerfully. Sato looked me up and down, but after a moment, he seemed to deem me harmless. He gave a faint smile, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “Don’t let your teacher stay too late. The streets aren’t safe with the Revolutionaries on the move.” He and Yuko began speaking in Japanese, and thankfully, I understood every word. I cursed him silently, my mind racing with insults. But I maintained my composure and replied in Japanese, “I trust the officers of the Empire won’t harm innocent civilians.” Sato seemed pleased with my response. His fake smile softened into something more genuine. “Ms. Rayne, the Empire seeks only justice. We just don’t want you to fall into the hands of the Revolutionaries.” He made a chilling gesture across his throat, as if mimicking an execution. A cold shiver ran down my spine. His cruelty was horrifying. Then, he turned to Yuko and said, “Your sister, Sachiko, will be joining us here in Willowcreek after autumn.” Yuko squealed with excitement. “Really? Are you and Sachiko going to get engaged?” Sachiko. I had heard about her from Zephyr. She was Sato’s lover, and their engagement was imminent. “Ms. Rayne, you’ll be invited to the engagement party as well,” Sato added, turning to Delilah. “Even Dr. Rayne has agreed to attend.” I forced a smile. “Thank you, Sato. I look forward to it. But for now, I’ll take my leave. It’s getting late.” Sato offered to have me escorted home, but I declined. I didn’t need any help from the enemy. If I could kill him at his engagement party, that might be my best chance. As I left the estate, Delilah caught up with me. “Let’s walk back together,” she said. “I’m heading to St. Mary’s Hospital for my shift.” I nodded. She was now a doctor, wearing the white coat she had always dreamed of.

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I secretly did a paternity test, but I couldn’t bring myself to open it. I couldn’t accept it… The daughter I’ve raised for seven years isn’t mine? It was a devastating blow to me. I smoked cigarette after cigarette, filling the entire office with a thick, suffocating cloud. It wasn’t until my assistant, Megan Carter, came in that I realized I needed to put it out. She asked, “Mr. Miller, are you okay today?” I forced a grim smile and shook my head, asking her what was on her mind. She placed a stack of files on my desk. “The project you’ve been working on has come through. It just needs your signature.” “Alright, leave it there.” I nodded. She hesitated, seeing how distracted I was, but then she turned and left without saying anything. I lit another cigarette, watching the smoke swirl around as it blurred my vision. It eventually settled on the paternity test that had been lying on my desk for days. I stared at it, lost in thought, for what felt like forever. I only snapped out of it when the cigarette burned down and singed my hand. With a deep breath, I slowly opened the envelope. It was something I had to face sooner or later. What was there to be afraid of? The result was clear: the daughter I had adored for seven years had no biological connection to me. “…” Strangely, when I saw the result, it felt like a huge weight had finally been lifted off my chest. I wasn’t upset or anxious anymore, but… oddly calm. In hindsight, I should’ve suspected something was off long ago. Seven years ago, I was still pursuing Samantha Bennett, but she didn’t show much interest in me. In fact, she seemed to dislike me. Then, out of the blue, she asked me out for dinner one night, got me drunk, and things naturally progressed from there. I didn’t use protection that night. She said it was fine, that she was in her safe period. The next few times we met, she didn’t ask me to use protection either. After that, her attitude toward me became softer. At least, she acknowledged I was her boyfriend. Not long after, she dropped a bombshell: she was pregnant and wanted to keep the baby. When she gave birth, it was a rough delivery. She nearly bled out. If it weren’t for the doctors’ quick thinking, both she and the baby might not have survived. I didn’t want her to ever go through that kind of pain again, so I got a vasectomy. Having one daughter was enough for me. Looking back now, I can’t believe how naive I was. I never questioned her for a second! Samantha knew who the baby’s father was from the start, which is why she had no problem with me not using protection. I had been played for a fool—just a convenient option to raise someone else’s kid. The child I’ve loved for seven years wasn’t mine at all. She was Jonathan Reed’s. What a joke! If I hadn’t come home early from that business trip, I might have never found out that I was raising another man’s child. Thank God for my daughter’s innocent honesty. If she hadn’t blurted it out, Samantha would’ve kept it hidden forever. Honestly, I wish I hadn’t found out. I wish she had kept this from me for life because now… everything has changed. Our marriage, which had seemed like a free-spirited romance, wasn’t simple at all. There were deeper, more complicated motives behind it.

Samantha’s and my family backgrounds weren’t all that different. Both of our families ran businesses. When I first pursued her, it wasn’t for her family’s money; my family wasn’t any worse off than hers. But over time, our families became business rivals. My father thought that marrying Samantha could help form an alliance between our companies. It was convenient because I’d already been pursuing her for quite a while. At the time, I didn’t know that our relationship would become so transactional. It wasn’t until she was pregnant, and I visited her family, that I realized there was more going on behind the scenes. Both of our parents laughed it off, saying, “What a coincidence! Business rivals on the surface, but in private, we’re becoming family!” Looking back, it’s ridiculous. Samantha and her family were using me. In fact, I’m certain this wasn’t a coincidence at all. It was a calculated move from the start. I had known for a long time that Samantha didn’t really like me. After we got married, she was cold and distant. But I convinced myself that the child was mine. I thought I had to take responsibility and make sure I didn’t let her down. I believed that if I was sincere enough, eventually, I would win her heart. I thought that over time, she’d feel the same love she had shown me in the beginning, when she seduced me so easily. But now, all my sincerity and good intentions feel like a joke. I’m the clown in this story. Lily, my daughter, seemed to know the truth all along. She knew she had another father… Could it be that whenever I left on business trips, the father she thought about wasn’t me? Samantha has been watching from the sidelines all these years, letting me run in circles, fooled by their lies. I must look ridiculous in her eyes—a perfect, unsuspecting fool. Haha. I don’t even know how to describe my feelings right now. I just know I’m strangely calm. Ding. A text message came through. It was from Samantha, which was rare. She hardly ever reached out to me first. “I heard you’ve been back from your trip for a few days? Why haven’t you come home? Lily’s been crying for you, saying she misses her daddy!” I let out a bitter chuckle, shaking my head. Crying for me? Or is she crying for the other dad? How can you, as her mother, not know which one she means? I’ve been home for a week now, but they didn’t seem to notice. The first message I get is today. I had planned to surprise them with my return, but instead, they’re the ones who surprised me—no, shocked me. I needed some time alone to cool off. Otherwise, I knew I wouldn’t be able to keep quiet about all of this. No man could stay calm after discovering something like this, pretending nothing had happened. I didn’t want to blow up in front of Lily. No matter what… she’s still an innocent child. So, I didn’t go home. I didn’t tell anyone. I stayed at the office, with Megan bringing me meals. I scrolled back through my messages, seeing the one I sent her that night after I found out the truth. I’d told her I’d landed a big project and would be busy for a while… and she hadn’t responded. Maybe she hadn’t even noticed it. Or maybe, like always, she just didn’t care what I had to say. I put down my phone and lit another cigarette. The ashtray on my desk was already filled to the brim with stubs. “Whoosh—” I exhaled a cloud of smoke, leaning back in my chair as I stared at the fading swirls. Exhaustion washed over me. What did I do wrong? Why would she do this to me? Was I trying to warm up a heart that couldn’t be warmed? Or… was I the one who was wrong from the start? Maybe it would’ve been better to remain in the dark.

I didn’t reply to Samantha’s text. She never had much patience with me, so it didn’t take long for her to call. Her voice was sharp and demanding right from the start. “Micah! What are you doing? Why aren’t you answering my texts?” “Oh, sorry. I’ve been busy at work…” I didn’t even finish before she cut me off, her voice dripping with impatience. “Work, work, work! Is that all you care about? Don’t you know you have a family? Don’t you realize your daughter needs you?” “…” I stayed silent, my mind buzzing. I wanted to ask her so badly: And you, Samantha? Don’t you know you have a husband? Does he know that his daughter isn’t even his? Does he know you’ve been lying to him all these years? The words stuck in my throat, and my eyes fell on the family photo on my desk—Lily’s bright, innocent smile staring back at me. I swallowed my anger. “She’s sick. Pick up some of her favorite snacks and bring them to the hospital,” she said coldly before hanging up. I stood there, listening to the dial tone with a bitter smile. Funny. Why didn’t she call the other dad for this? I could easily guess what had happened. Lily probably wore herself out playing too much, and now it was up to me to clean up the mess. I saw the location Samantha sent me, and as much as it filled me with humiliation and anger, I couldn’t bear to think of Lily looking so small and sick. Seven years. Seven years of loving this child. How could I not care about her? So I sighed, put on my coat, and went to buy her favorite snacks before heading to the hospital. When I got to the hospital room, I heard Lily’s voice through the door, clear as day: “Daddy Jonathan, look! I was so brave! I didn’t even cry when they gave me the shot. Wasn’t I the best?” Through the small glass window on the door, I saw him—Jonathan Reed, wearing a doctor’s coat, smiling at Lily. “Yes, you were so brave! Just like my little girl should be,” he said, ruffling her hair as she giggled. Beside them, Samantha’s face was soft, warm, and full of affection. In the seven years we’ve been married, I’ve never seen her look at me like that. My heart clenched. That man in the doctor’s coat—Jonathan Reed—was her first love. And now, as if life was mocking me, he was Lily’s real father. Watching their happy little family from the hallway, I felt a sudden, overwhelming sense of isolation. It was as if they were a family of three, and I… was just the outsider. No, scratch that. They are a family. Lily is their daughter. And I? I’m just the outsider. The joke. It felt like a weight was crushing my chest. I could barely breathe. Why did this hurt so much? I rushed here, bought her favorite snacks, thinking she needed me, only to find out the real reason they wanted me here was because Jonathan was the doctor on call. Lily got to see her biological dad, and Samantha got to be with the man she truly loved. And me? I’m nothing more than a joke. The biggest fool in the world.

It felt like a green light was flashing over me, head to toe, branding me as the fool. I stood frozen in place. I couldn’t move. It wasn’t until Jonathan noticed me standing outside that he adjusted his glasses and said, “Micah?” The moment my name left his lips, Samantha’s warm smile disappeared, replaced by her usual coldness. She didn’t even try to hide her contempt for me. “You’re finally here! Took you long enough! Lily hasn’t eaten a thing since she got sick. Are you trying to starve her?” Of course. The familiar tone. That suffocating pressure she always brings. It made me feel like I couldn’t breathe. “I’m sorry, Lily. Daddy’s late, but I brought you your favorite…” I forced a smile as I spoke to my daughter. Before I could even finish, Samantha cut me off again, her voice sharp. “What’s the point of showing up now? Dr. Reed already brought her food. You’re always too busy to be there for your own daughter, and it’s always left to someone else to take care of her!” Lily, always so “understanding,” added, “Thanks, Daddy! But Dr. Reed says I can’t have dessert after meals, haha.” I stared at her, the same little girl I’d loved for seven years, and felt a strange, bitter taste in my mouth. She probably thought she was being so considerate. But I couldn’t help it… For the first time, I felt a sense of unfamiliarity and… disgust toward the child I’d raised. It was as if she wasn’t mine anymore. And that “Dr. Reed”—just minutes ago, wasn’t she calling him “Daddy Jonathan”? She had grown up. She knew not to call him “Daddy” in front of me anymore, playing along with the lies Samantha had spun all these years. What a good daughter, huh? “So, Daddy waited in line for a long time to buy your favorite snacks. You don’t want them?” I held out the bag, but my expression was slipping. Lily hesitated. After all, they were her favorite treats. “Leave them. Lily didn’t eat much. She can have them as a snack later,” Jonathan said, always the rational doctor. Lily’s eyes lit up as she clapped her hands. “Yay! I get to have them later!” “No!” Samantha scolded from the side, her voice sharp. “You’ve already had dinner! No more snacks, especially after you’ve brushed your teeth. You don’t want to get cavities, do you? Be good and listen to Mommy.” She called me to buy the snacks, but now she’s the one making the rules. I was holding back my frustration, not wanting to lose my temper in front of Lily. “It’s fine. She’s still sick. She needs the sugar for energy. Besides, she’s growing. She could use the extra calories,” Jonathan chimed in, making it all seem so reasonable. Lily looked up at Samantha with those puppy eyes, silently pleading. “See, Mommy? Dr. Reed said it’s okay!” “Alright, just this once,” Samantha finally relented, and Lily cheered happily. “You spoil her too much,” she said to Jonathan, her tone warm and affectionate. “…” I stood there, feeling out of place, as if they had forgotten I existed. The room wasn’t that big. Four people could fit in it, but in their eyes, there were only three of them. I was nothing more than a ghost.

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Discovering that my fiancée was cheating was an accident. That day, I was bored, scrolling through social media, when I stumbled across a love story. It was tragic, and the ending wasn’t a happy one. A blogger called Winter Snow shared her story about how she and her first love saved each other but had to part ways due to life’s circumstances. Now, she was getting ready to marry someone else. Their story sounded like something from a soap opera, a perfect tale of childhood sweethearts. He was the charming, wealthy, and brilliant guy next door. She was equally beautiful and bright, but after her family went bankrupt, her mother became abusive. She endured a rough upbringing, leaving her withdrawn and lonely. But that didn’t stop them from falling in love. She fought for him, skipped school for him, did everything she thought was romantic. Once, she even snuck into a bakery at night to steal cake molds just to make his favorite dessert. He changed his college application for her, set off fireworks despite the campus rules on her birthday, and did anything to make her happy. He was her light in a dark world, her salvation. They clung to each other, making each other their entire world, but ultimately, reality and family pressure drove them apart. She said after they broke up, she had planned to stay single forever. She’d been treated like a precious gem, having seen the brightest side of love, and didn’t want to settle for less. But as her roommates moved on with their lives, she too longed for love. And as her mother aged and grew weaker, she realized there was nothing left to hold on to in this world. So, when her college senior proposed, she accepted, though she realized she could never love him—or anyone—again. She drowned herself in alcohol, stayed out late, and became adept at playing the game of life, floating between different men. She enjoyed that lifestyle. When people chased after her, she felt invincible. Those so-called “guy friends” of hers—they were really her prey. Or rather, they used each other for fleeting comfort. Marriage wasn’t something she wanted. But her mother—who had blamed her for everything and abused her endlessly—was dying of cancer. Her mother’s dying wish was to see her married and settled. She hated her parents, but she couldn’t sever the bond of family or deny her mother’s wish. So, she asked her boyfriend to marry her. He loved her deeply and agreed, moved by her request. But she still wanted one last wild fling before the wedding. And so, in the three months leading up to the wedding, she slept with all her “friends,” in hotels or in the very house her fiancé had prepared for their new life together. On the bed, the vanity, the bathroom, the living room—everywhere. And most importantly, the one she truly loved was also in that house. “I know what I’m doing will hurt my future husband, but I can’t stop myself. I just want to say goodbye to my youth and love.” “I may have had countless past relationships and thirteen guy friends, but I take each one seriously.” Look at that—how eloquently she dressed up her cheating as something noble and meaningful. Of course, it wouldn’t have mattered to me if the unlucky fiancé wasn’t… me.

How did I discover that Winter Snow was actually my fiancée, Olivia Blake? It wasn’t her IP address. It was the details in her post. She mentioned that they got into the same university and that she played Butterfly Lovers on the piano for him at the freshman welcome event. Coincidentally, that’s where I met Olivia—she played Butterfly Lovers at our own freshman event too. At the end of the song, she was crying her eyes out. I thought she was moved by the music. I was intrigued by her, not knowing she was playing it for someone else—her first love. She also wrote about how she bought his favorite breakfast early one winter morning and waited outside his dorm for half an hour, only to have him refuse to meet her because of his parents’ disapproval. She gave the breakfast to a random good-looking guy who happened to be coming down the stairs. That guy was me. I remember the breakfast—it had already lost its warmth, tucked inside her coat. She wrote that when she found out he was leaving the country, she skipped class and rushed to the airport to see him one last time, but he had already left. She cried uncontrollably at the airport, and someone gave her a hug. Unluckily for me, I was that “someone.” Fresh from a vacation, I had stumbled across her tears at the airport. I already knew about her family situation and had hesitated about pursuing her. I was just from a middle-class background, while she came from a once-wealthy family that had fallen on hard times. I wondered if I could handle her past, her expectations, or the life she wanted. But after getting to know her, I realized I was wrong. Olivia seemed like a bright, optimistic girl. She never gave up despite her family’s downfall. She was smart, confident, and even though she occasionally skipped class, her grades were stellar. She was the kind of person who could bloom even in the harshest conditions. Looks didn’t matter after you got to know her. So, after weighing everything, I decided to pursue her. I did everything I thought was romantic. But for six months, she kept me at a distance, neither fully accepting me nor pushing me away—until her birthday. It was then that I knew Winter Snow was her. The blog post mentioned fireworks, and that night I had prepared fireworks to confess my love. She seemed distant that evening, but in my excitement, I didn’t notice her mood. When the fireworks lit up the sky, she smiled—then started crying. Before I could say anything, she agreed to be my girlfriend. Later, my friend told me that the fireworks I had prepared were set off later than planned, but I didn’t think much of it at the time. Now I realize the fireworks that moved her weren’t mine—they were for her first love, marking the end of their story. I’ve been with Olivia for seven years since then. We’ve had our ups and downs, even considered breaking up at times, but we always found a way to make things work. She treated me with respect. Half a year ago, after we were finally done with long-distance, it was her 27th birthday. That night, she got drunk, clung to me tightly, and told me seriously that she wanted to marry me and have a child. She said, “Evan, you’re 28 now, and both of us have stable careers. We’re more than capable of being each other’s support and becoming good parents.” “Evan, I admit I had a deep, unforgettable love in my youth, but that’s all in the past.” “Believe me. I’ll be a good wife to you, a good mother to our child. I’ll give our child the love and family I never had.” “I want us to be that couple everyone envies. I want our child to grow up with love, free and wild, not bound by anything.” “Evan, that’s my birthday wish. Will you grant it?” As she said this, she held me so tightly, her eyes full of hope and tenderness. Her words wrapped around my heart, and before I knew it, I nodded and started planning the wedding. We were going to get married soon.

I was touched by what she said because my relationship with my dad was always distant. I longed for a loving home, a place where I could feel safe. Besides, I wasn’t getting any younger. So I began to plan everything. I designed her wedding dress by hand, stayed up late looking through wedding ideas, thinking of ways to surprise her. I wanted to give her a perfect wedding, one she would remember forever. I wanted to give her everything. And I truly believed she was ready for a new life, for starting a family. But when I shared the wedding news in our college friends’ group chat, all I got was silence. None of them congratulated me. Instead, they asked the same question: “Are you sure you want to marry Olivia Blake?” I asked them why. No one answered. It was like the group chat had gone dormant. I didn’t understand. They had all supported me when I was chasing her, so why the sudden change? Even though I didn’t get any answers, I sensed something was off. Especially when Olivia told me she had to go on a business trip and left me to handle all the wedding preparations. She said if I couldn’t manage, she could cancel the trip. I declined. I had my doubts, but I didn’t think anyone should abandon their career for a relationship. Especially women. Women already face enough challenges in the workplace, and she had worked so hard to reach her position. If she succeeded in her project, she would take another step forward in her career. The wedding could be simple, but her career? That was her choice, and I wouldn’t let it be affected. What I didn’t realize was that her “business trip” was just an excuse to spend time with her first love and thirteen guy friends! When I called her to ask if she needed me to bring anything to her trip, she hesitated before saying no. “I don’t need anything. It’s a long trip, and I have most of what I need in my office. If there’s anything else, I can always buy it. Just focus on the wedding, love.” Her voice grew quieter toward the end of the call, and she quickly hung up. But just before the call ended, I heard a man’s voice in the background. A voice that couldn’t be explained away. I felt cold, a deep chill running through me. And then, I got a message from one of my college roommates. “Evan, it’s not that I don’t want to congratulate you, but you don’t really know Olivia.” Didn’t know her? We had been together for seven years. How could I not know her? But when I opened the screenshot my friend had sent, I froze. It was a chat between Olivia and one of her college friends, sent after she and I had already started dating. Each sentence, every punctuation mark—it was like a blade cutting through my heart. She was saying things she had never said to me, flirtatious, intimate things that didn’t match the composed, thoughtful Olivia I knew. The Olivia in those messages was playful, seductive, and even shared private photos—things I had never seen before. Tears blurred my vision, and the mix of anger and betrayal threatened to tear me apart. Every message felt like a needle stabbing at my heart. My hands were shaking as I scrolled through her old texts, and each one was a blow to the love I had felt. All that love now had turned into a fire, burning me from the inside out. I clicked on the last message my friend had sent—a link to an Instagram account. This account held all the proof of Olivia’s double life since college. Videos, voice messages, everything. There were clips of her hanging out with other guys, going on weekend trips, playing at theme parks, going skydiving—all the moments she’d spent with them, the secret life she had hidden from me. And me? The man who had given her everything, her boyfriend, her fiancé—who she never even mentioned. It was as if I didn’t exist in her world. I was just a shadow, an afterthought, something to be forgotten. I knew, in that moment, that we were done. But how could I let it end like that?

I forced myself to hold back the nausea that rose from deep within me, as well as the fury boiling over in my heart. I saved every piece of evidence from that Instagram account and started private messaging my college friends. Slowly, they began to tell me about the side of Olivia I had never known. Unlike the Olivia I thought I knew, in high school she had been a rebellious teenager. She had cut class, gotten into fights, and even teamed up with some street thugs to collect “protection money” from other students. There was one girl she had bullied so badly that the girl developed severe depression and had to leave school. Olivia herself had even ended up in juvenile detention for a while. In senior year, when her father died in a car accident, Olivia and her mom received a large settlement and left their old town, starting a new life. The cheerful, optimistic girl I knew—that had all been a facade. In reality, she was arrogant, never caring about anyone else’s feelings. But she covered her tracks well, always keeping things just above suspicion so no one could directly accuse her of wrongdoing. When I started dating her, she had already been involved with several guys at our university. Most of those guys were decent people, thinking they had been in a genuine relationship with her. They had all broken up amicably, which is why none of them ever spoke about it. Olivia’s secrets were well hidden, even from me. She had continued messaging my college roommates, flirting with them, even after we were officially together. Whether or not any of them acted on those messages, I didn’t want to know. At this point, it didn’t matter. I’ve never been the kind of person to hold grudges, but someone like Olivia didn’t deserve to continue living such a glamorous life while I was left in the shadows. What I needed now was to gather all the evidence. I wanted to make sure she would pay back everything she had taken from me. That’s when I stumbled upon that blog post. I wasn’t ready to go home yet. Instead, I headed to the security office of our apartment complex. With a pack of cigarettes and a couple of bottles of water, I earned the sympathy of the security guards, who allowed me to check the surveillance footage. I sent Olivia a text, but it went unanswered, as if she had disappeared off the face of the earth. I stared at the monitor for hours, watching as the day slowly turned to night, and my heart grew colder with each passing moment. Finally, I saw it—the door to our apartment opened, and Olivia stepped out, hand-in-hand with a man. They kissed passionately before the elevator doors closed. Even as the doors shut, she lingered in the hallway, gazing tearfully after him. The 4K high-definition footage captured their “epic love story” in crystal clarity, a love that seemed to transcend the ordinary, as if fate itself had brought them together. Afterward, Olivia dashed down the stairs, rushing into the evening’s twilight to meet him again. They held each other tightly in the dim light, pulling at each other like two people destined to be together. Their kiss was long, deep, and filled with the kind of passion that could only come from defying the world. To anyone watching, their reunion would have seemed like a triumphant moment, as though they had finally overcome all obstacles and could be together at last. But what about me? I was her fiancé, the man who had cherished her, the man who had fought for her love. What had I done wrong? If she had just told me from the beginning that she loved someone else, I would have let her go. It wouldn’t have hurt as much as it did now. But she had lied to me, deceived me, and used me as her backup plan, her safety net. She shattered my dreams of love and marriage. She ruined the future I thought we would share. She had to pay for what she’d done. I copied all the surveillance footage, every second of it. Over the next few days, I took time off from work, pretending to be busy with wedding preparations. I told Olivia that I needed to go on a business trip of my own. Then I packed a few things and moved into a hotel. I set up surveillance at home, installing cameras everywhere, and even managed to install tracking software on her phone. I knew exactly where she was, what she was doing, and who she was with. It didn’t take long before I found out she had planned a big party the night before the wedding. A “wild” bachelorette party with a lot of guests. She even wrote about it in that blog post, signing off with her final update. I was filled with rage, but I forced myself to stay calm. I kept moving forward with my plan. A few days before the wedding, I returned home. The air still carried that sickening scent, but Olivia was oblivious to everything. She eagerly looked forward to the ceremony. On the day of the wedding, I invited everyone. Her friends, her family, and even her dying mother. The ceremony was lively and beautiful, with Olivia smiling radiantly. But then, in an instant, her smile froze on her face…

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