“Trish, that streamer is a friend of mine from school. I was just supporting her career, and it was only a hundred thousand dollars! Plus, it wasn’t even your money, it was Mom’s. Are you seriously so mad that you’re going to cut off my card and send me to some strict school where they’ll even take my phone? Are you still my sister?”
“Yeah, Trish, it’s just a hundred thousand. Mom isn’t upset, so why are you? Besides, I couldn’t bear to see Ryan go through hardship. If he went to that school, I’d only get to see him once a month. For my sake, please, drop this idea…”
I opened my eyes, feeling disoriented as I looked at the two familiar faces in front of me. Anger and sadness nearly overwhelmed me as I fought the urge to strangle them right then and there.
Because just a moment ago, in my mind, these two—along with my sister and her husband—had conspired to burn me alive in this very house.
After my gruesome death, I had watched helplessly as they took all of the billions my biological parents left me and moved abroad to live carefree lives.
That’s right, I wasn’t their biological daughter. I was the one they found on the side of the road.
After they picked me up, my adoptive parents, who had struggled for years to have children, suddenly had a son, Ryan Harris, and a daughter, Lily Harris.
They didn’t treat me terribly, because in a small Midwestern farm town, all they had to do was give me food to eat.
They drilled into my head that as the older sister, I had the responsibility to take care of my younger siblings. At five, I was already changing diapers and feeding them formula. By the time I graduated middle school, I gave up further education and started working at an assembly plant. Each month, I earned nearly ten thousand dollars in overtime, but I only kept about a thousand for myself. The rest went home to support my brother and sister’s education.
When I turned twenty, a representative from my biological parents found me.
It was then I learned the truth: I wasn’t their biological daughter.
My real parents were two professors at Georgetown University. Years ago, they were hunted down for protecting their research. They left me in a safe place temporarily, but by the time they came back, I had already been taken in by my adoptive family.
My adoptive parents had returned to rural South Carolina. There weren’t many security cameras around back then, and by the time my biological parents found me, years had passed. My mother had grown sick with guilt and depression and ended her life, while my father, devastated, continued searching for me for over a decade until he passed away last year…
Life can be cruel. I was only found by my biological parents’ representative a year after they had both died.
I had gone from a factory worker to the heir of a billion-dollar fortune practically overnight!
But with my biological parents gone, and being a twenty-year-old girl desperate for familial affection and weighed down by a strong sense of responsibility for my siblings, I made the foolish decision to bring my entire adoptive family to Washington D.C. with me.
I thought, they raised me, so I should make sure they live well now that I had the means to.
I moved my adoptive parents into a mansion on the outskirts of D.C., spared no expense, and enrolled my reckless brother in a high-end boarding school. He had gone off the rails after we came into money, partying, drinking, drag racing, even stealing my parents’ phone to send donations to his favorite streamers. A semester at this school cost hundreds of thousands of dollars, but I wanted him to be successful, so I even sent him to an elite overseas university. When he returned, I gave him millions to start his own business…
As for me, I regretted not being able to attend college. I was talented, but I never had the chance to learn new skills or wear all the pretty clothes I longed for. So, I hired the best tutors for my sister and bought her all the fashionable clothes and designer handbags she wanted, turning her into a little princess.
But my sister wasn’t grateful. She complained that I put too much pressure on her, that she never wanted to learn those things.
She spent my money at school pretending to be a wealthy heiress, dated a rich kid, and ended up pregnant. She refused to have an abortion.
Because of her stubbornness, I had to drag her to the rich kid’s family and force them to marry her.
My biological parents had a good relationship with Keith Morgan, CEO of the Morgan Corporation. It was through Keith that I was found in the first place.
The rich kid’s family didn’t like my sister, but they couldn’t say no because of Keith Morgan. So, despite their disdain, they let her marry into the family.
Even though my sister was finally married to a wealthy man, her husband would beat her, but she refused to leave, and I had to clean up the mess every time.
My adoptive father was a gambler and a drunk. When he got drunk, he would beat my adoptive mother. If I hadn’t stepped in to pay off his debts and get him into rehab, he would’ve been killed by debt collectors.
I thought I had done everything for this family, treated them like my real family, even though we weren’t related by blood.
And yet, they conspired to burn me alive to take my fortune!
Trish Harris, you should’ve died long ago! You inherited all that wealth, and as our daughter, you should’ve given it all to us. You never really treated us like your real parents!
All we did was ask for a little more money, and you couldn’t even give us a few million dollars when you’re worth billions! Some sister you are!
No wonder we’re not related by blood. My husband asked you for two million to invest, and you refused, so now I have to suffer his abuse. You never treated me like your real sister!
In my final moments, I looked at my adoptive parents, hoping for some sympathy, but they turned away, cold and indifferent, watching as the flames consumed me.
Pulled out of my memories, I stared at the two familiar faces in front of me, my hands trembling with overwhelming hatred.
Heaven has eyes, and I’ve been given a second chance. This time, I won’t make the same mistakes as before!
Though I wasn’t reborn to the moment when I was first found by my biological parents and had the chance to leave my adoptive family behind, this moment is still good enough.
At this point in time, my adoptive family is already used to living a wealthy lifestyle because of me. They’ve gotten comfortable not working, knowing they can rely on me, their “cheap” daughter and sister, to give them tens of thousands of dollars in allowance at the drop of a hat…
It’s hard to go back once you’ve lived in luxury. I’m curious to see how they’ll maintain this lifestyle once I’m gone!
Suppressing my anger, I nodded.
“You’re right. It was your money he used, so I have no right to be upset.”
My adoptive mother looked a bit surprised. After all, her money came from me, so I had every right to be angry.
But seeing that I had softened my stance, she breathed a sigh of relief.
Ryan, too, was ecstatic.
“So, you’re not sending me to boarding school?”
“No, I’m not.”
My adoptive mother, noticing my expression, gave Ryan a subtle nod, and he hurriedly left the room.
She then tried to comfort me.
“Trish, it’s not that I’m siding with your brother, but he’s still young. He needs to be guided carefully. If we send him to boarding school now, it might make him even more rebellious. I know you mean well, but we need to take it slow.”
I lowered my eyes.
“He’s already spent a hundred thousand this month. I won’t be giving him any more allowance.”
“That’s fine. He should learn that money doesn’t come easily…”
Before she could say more, I cut her off.
“I’m tired.”
Upstairs, I reflected on my past life. Back then, I had insisted on sending Ryan to boarding school. To calm him down, my adoptive parents took him on a trip to Miami.
I had even transferred money to my adoptive mother with a message:
Ryan must be upset. Why don’t you and Dad take him and Lily on a trip to Miami?
When my adoptive mother received the money, she excitedly agreed to the vacation.
“See, Ryan? You can relax. Your sister is still family. She’s just worried about you, but she won’t abandon us. Look, she just sent another $200,000 for us to take a trip!”
Ryan let out a sigh of relief, sneering.
“Trish Harris, don’t think this means I
’ll forgive you!”
Lily, on the other hand, was less pleased.
“What about me, sis?”
“Didn’t I just send you money the other day? Or are you spending it all on Bradley again, buying him gifts?”
My words hit a nerve. Lily knew full well that I disapproved of her spending money to chase after Bradley.
Suddenly, she didn’t dare ask for more.
But when she heard that we were going to Miami, usually the first to pack her bags for a trip, she unexpectedly declined this time.
“Mom, Dad, I can’t go. Trish got me an internship at Morgan Corporation. It’s a big opportunity. I need to stay.”
Morgan Corporation was one of the top companies in the country, and landing an internship there was highly competitive.
In my past life, I had gone to great lengths to get Lily that opportunity. I had even reached out to Keith Morgan, a man I hadn’t spoken to since he helped find me, and used my biological parents’ connections to secure it for her.
With my lack of education, I had hoped my sister could build a solid foundation and one day work for a top company like Morgan Corporation.
But instead, she had secretly turned down the internship to run off abroad with Bradley Adams and ended up pregnant.
When she returned, she boasted that she had planned the whole thing, claiming that getting pregnant was her way of ensuring she would marry into Bradley’s wealthy family.
Lily had been so short-sighted, and though I had been heartbroken, I still fought for her. I dragged her to Bradley’s family and forced them to marry her, even though he hadn’t taken her seriously at all.
That action had used up all of the goodwill Keith Morgan and my biological parents had for me. After that, I couldn’t bring myself to reach out to Keith again.
But this time…
After sending my adoptive parents and Ryan off, I watched as Lily tried her old tricks again.
“Sis, Morgan Corporation is pretty far from here. I heard from my mentor that when she interned there, she was working late every night. I was thinking, maybe I could rent a place nearby and stay there until the internship is over.”
I smiled and transferred some money to her.
“Sure. Good luck with your internship.”
Lily, delighted, packed her bags and left.
Soon after, the private investigator I had hired informed me that Lily had gone straight to the airport and followed Bradley overseas…
I immediately contacted a realtor and put the mansion up for sale at a reduced price.
Then, I went to the study and storage room. Tears welled up in my eyes as I looked around.
The storage room was filled with my biological parents’ belongings. When we had moved here, my adoptive parents had wanted to throw them away, calling them unlucky since they were from dead people. I had fought to keep them, so they were stashed away in the storage room.
I opened the cabinet in the study and felt a surge of anger when I saw the paintings inside.
In my previous life, I hadn’t known that my biological parents’ legacy included more than just this mansion and the money in the bank. There were also their valuable art collections.
Any one of these paintings could fetch hundreds of thousands at auction.
But I hadn’t realized that in my previous life. My adoptive father had secretly sold them off to fuel his gambling addiction.
Dozens of priceless paintings, along with my parents’ research and manuscripts, had all been sold by my adoptive father. And I, their biological daughter, had been none the wiser!
If I hadn’t seen him rushing to grab the last few paintings before my death, I might never have known…
Tears blurred my vision as I stared at the photos of my real parents, their loving smiles forever frozen in time. I called a moving company and had all my biological parents’ belongings sent to their old house near Georgetown University.
As for me, I stayed.
There’s no way I’d leave before seeing how this family falls apart.
While they were on vacation, I made several preparations.
I installed hidden cameras in every corner of the house. The mansion had already been sold, and since I had offered it for a lower price than the market value, the buyer agreed to let me stay for another month.
It wasn’t long before my adoptive parents returned with Ryan.
Ryan, acting as if nothing had happened, immediately asked me for more spending money.
I didn’t even look at him.
“No. You used this month’s allowance on that streamer.”
Ryan was furious.
“That was Mom’s money! Trish, you’re so stingy, no wonder you don’t have any friends!”
My adoptive mother hesitated, but before she could say anything, I cut her off.
“Mom, didn’t you say Ryan needed to learn how hard it is to make money?”
Seeing that I was serious about teaching Ryan a lesson, she didn’t push back. Instead, she secretly slipped him some cash.
She figured that if she ran out of money, she could just ask me for more. But I was one step ahead.
“Mom, I’ve already given you the household allowance for the month. You wouldn’t have secretly given it to Ryan, would you?”
She immediately looked guilty and denied it.
She had given all her money to Ryan, leaving nothing for my adoptive father. He rarely asked me for money directly, so it was usually my adoptive mother who asked on his behalf.
But this time, since she didn’t have enough to give him, my adoptive father, drunk and furious, beat her half to death.
Screaming, my adoptive mother begged me for help.
“Trish! Trish, stop your father! He’s going to kill me!”
I remained calm.
“Mom, Dad’s just drunk. When he sobers up, he’ll apologize, right? Isn’t that what you always told me?”
My adoptive mother looked at me in disbelief. After all, every time this happened before, I had jumped in to stop him, getting beaten black and blue in her place.
And every time, I would urge her to leave him. But she always cried and said,
“Trish, he’s your father. We’ve got three kids together. How can you tell me to leave him? He only gets like this when he’s drunk. He’ll be sorry and apologize when he sobers up…”
Since she was so forgiving, all I could do was respect her decision.
So this time, I stood back and watched as my adoptive father nearly beat her to death.
He took her hidden stash of money and ran off to gamble again.
My adoptive mother was confused by my sudden change in behavior but couldn’t afford to anger me, as she still depended on my money.
A month later, Lily, who had been anxiously taking pregnancy tests every day, showed up at my door, tearfully holding a positive result…
I couldn’t help but smirk.
🌟 Continue the story here
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I had an extremely clean-freak boyfriend. His room was always spotless, without a speck of dust. What pained me the most was that he treated me the same way. Fine, fine, fine, if I can’t handle it, I’ll just leave. Goodbye, Your Highness.
Today, after being scolded by my boss, I dragged my tired body back to the home I shared with James, working overtime until very late.
As soon as I opened the door, James, sitting at his desk, said without changing his expression, “Change your slippers and take a shower.”
I took a deep breath. Having just been criticized by my boss, I don’t know if I was upset or what, but tears of frustration fell. Not only did I not change my slippers, but I also carelessly threw my bag down and lay directly on the couch.
“James, let’s break up.”
James didn’t even look up, directly ignoring my words, “Looks like the couch cover will have to be thrown away tomorrow, and the floor will need to be mopped.”
I gritted my teeth and repeated clearly, word by word, “James, let’s break up!”
This was the sixth time I had proposed breaking up in half a year. I admit I liked James and was reluctant to leave him, but I really couldn’t take it anymore.
It wasn’t just because he was a germaphobe, but because he treated me like I was dirty too.
In the year we’d been together, hand-holding could barely be counted, only once. Kissing, hugging, all these things couples should do had never happened, just because James was an extremely clean person who would wash his hands three times after shaking hands with a friend.
What’s more annoying was that in the two months we’d lived together, we slept in separate rooms. I couldn’t enter his room, and the first thing to do when coming home was to change slippers and take a shower. Even going to the toilet required thoroughly cleaning it with toilet cleaner first, and repeating the process afterward.
Once, I was lazy and only rinsed with water. As a result, James directly replaced the toilet the next day.
What a miserable life, what a miserable me!
I knew clearly that James didn’t love me. I wasn’t that special person, and I would never be that special person in the future.
James finally looked up at me, his almond eyes glancing at me slightly. I couldn’t see the emotion in his eyes, only feeling extraordinarily calm. He said, “Have you thought it through?”
My heart suddenly caught. The last time I broke up, James asked the same question.
At that time, I ended up softening without any backbone. How could you let go of someone you like so easily?
But this time, I didn’t plan to compromise. If he didn’t love me, why did he accept my confession in the first place? If he didn’t want to touch me at all, why did he agree to live together?
I didn’t want to continue living like this for another second. Being with James, I lived like a stranger, walking on eggshells for a year.
I also wanted to be able to do nothing when I got home, lie on the couch and scroll through my phone, instead of changing slippers, taking a shower, and constantly worrying about dirtying his territory.
I wiped away a tear and sat up, “I’ve thought it through.”
“I’ll pack my things and move out later.”
James frowned, looking at me deeply, and finally didn’t open his mouth to persuade me, “Okay, do you want me to call you a car?”
I clutched my chest, took a deep breath, and quietly chanted to myself, “Don’t get angry, don’t get angry, don’t argue with an idiot…”
I got up and angrily packed my luggage to leave, obviously in the manner of running away from home. But when I reached the door, the more I thought about it, the more unwilling I felt.
Why should I be the only one suffering while James could remain unmoved?
No, I had to make him suffer too. I couldn’t bear this pain alone.
So I dropped my luggage and walked aggressively towards James at his desk. James rarely showed a hint of confusion, “Lily, what are you trying to do?”
But I wouldn’t explain. I directly forced myself on him, grabbing James’s collar and then kissed him.
Then I vindictively bit his lip, and not only that, I ran my hands all over his chest. Without giving James a chance to react, I grabbed my luggage and ran off.
I could hear James shouting behind me, “Lily Sanders! Have you gone crazy?”
That was our first kiss, and also our last kiss.
The news of my breakup with James spread quickly, and after moving out of his house, I met with the manager who had wanted to poach me to their company last time.
Their company had been cooperating with foreign enterprises for a long time.
After discussing the salary and benefits, I bought a plane ticket without hesitation and flew out of this heartbreaking city. In the first week of joining the new company, I secured an opportunity for overseas training and further studies with my previous excellent performance.
I admit I wanted to escape. I didn’t want to see James again because I was afraid I would soften again.
Sitting on the plane heading abroad, I looked at the few and not-so-intimate photos of James and me in my phone album. Tears fell again, and then I reached out and deleted them all.
James, I’ll make you regret not cherishing me properly!
Crying and crying, I was afraid of ruining my expensive makeup, so I took out the mirror I carried with me and wiped away my tears…
After six months of further studies, I returned to the new company and worked hard for the boss. Gradually… the thoughts of James in my heart lessened.
Perhaps this is the power of time.
I lazily made a cup of coffee. Footsteps came from behind, but I didn’t turn around. However, the man behind me called out, “Lily, still working overtime?”
I turned to look at the newcomer. It was Ryan, a new colleague in our department, also very hardworking.
Compared to me back then, he was even more so. When he first came, I teased him, “Did you also just break up?”
At that time, he answered me, “Yes.”
Perhaps because we were in the same boat, we quickly became close, sometimes going on business trips together, closer than iron brothers.
I took a sip of coffee, “Isn’t it obvious?”
Ryan laughed, “Be careful, or you might end up with a receding hairline.”
I rolled my eyes at him, annoyed, “If you can’t say anything nice, just keep quiet.”
After a while, Ryan said again, “There’s a gathering tomorrow night, help me out, will you?”
I said straightforwardly, “No.”
Ding ding, phone notification: Ryan Young has transferred 5000 to you.
I gladly accepted and then looked up at him, “I take back what I just said. Tell me, what help do you need? As long as I can do it, I’ll definitely get it done for you.”
Ryan had a slightly mischievous expression, “Pretend to be my girlfriend.”
I shamelessly said, “Add another thousand.”
Ryan tugged at the corner of his mouth, “Deal.”
The next evening, I wore a sexy, figure-hugging red long dress and walked into the gathering place with Ryan. Although my figure wasn’t particularly good, it was above average, and my face wasn’t bad either. Ryan would definitely look good.
Ryan enthusiastically greeted his friends and then introduced me. Living up to my professional ethics, I held Ryan’s arm, appearing intimately close.
When the crowd dispersed a bit, my peripheral vision paused, and then the smile froze on my face.
Not for any other reason, but because I saw a very familiar figure, a figure I had been avoiding for two years but hadn’t forgotten.
My gaze followed that man step by step as he walked over.
James, a person I would recognize even if he turned to ashes.
When Ryan saw James coming, he immediately perked up, “Dr. Quinn, you’re finally here. We’ve been waiting for you for a long time.”
“This is my girlfriend, Lily Sanders.”
I awkwardly tugged at the corner of my mouth. James’s eyes kept falling on me, and then I heard his deep voice, “Lily Sanders? Your girlfriend?”
As soon as these words were spoken, I suddenly felt the air turn cold. It must be an illusion.
I swallowed and thought to myself, Lily! What are you afraid of? You’ve already broken up, there’s no relationship anymore!
After a round of self-encouragement, I adjusted my state, then put on a smile and reached out my hand, saying, “Hello, Dr. Quinn.”
James held his wine glass, hesitating to reach out. I knew he definitely wouldn’t. This severe germaphobe, who would wash his hands three times after shaking hands with others, how could he shake hands with me, especially me, his detestable ex-girlfriend?
I vividly remembered that after I forced myself on him, James looked shocked, his neatly ironed white shirt all messed up, with a blood drop from my bite on his lip.
It was like a chaste male god had been violated. Thinking about it now, I still felt a little excited?
Seeing that James kept looking at me but didn’t reach out, Ryan, to ease the awkwardness, tried to pull my hand back. But the next second, James reached out and shook my hand, “Hello, Lily Sanders.”
I was almost afraid James would say, long time no see, my detestable ex-girlfriend.
What shocked me more was that James actually shook hands with me! Has this man reformed after two years?
I smiled awkwardly, confused, and quickly withdrew my hand, linking arms with Ryan again.
Ryan laughed, “I didn’t expect the usually germaphobic Dr. Quinn to actually shake hands voluntarily. You’ve changed quite a bit in a year, at least you seem like a normal person now…”
Seemingly realizing his words were a bit inappropriate, Ryan quickly added, embarrassed, “No, no, that’s not what I meant, haha.”
James didn’t mind, he didn’t even look at him, but glanced at me and said, “It’s okay, what you said is indeed very accurate.”
Me, “Hehe, hehe…”
How come I don’t believe it at all.
James didn’t chat for long before turning to leave. I was itching with curiosity, and when no one was around, I pulled Ryan close and whispered, “How do you know this Dr. Quinn? I’ve never heard you mention him as a friend before?”
Ryan said, “Ah, a year ago I had a car accident and ended up in his emergency room. At that time, he was disgusted with me because my accident wounds had motor oil, my clothes were all sandy, and my sweat smelled bad. I tell you, I had fainted but his attitude woke me up.”
“Later I found out he was a severe germaphobe, thought it was quite interesting, and put in a lot of effort to befriend him.”
I almost couldn’t hold back my laughter. I asked again, “Then why did he come all the way here to attend your gathering today? Isn’t he very busy?”
Ryan looked at me intently, “How do you know he’s very busy?”
I was momentarily at a loss for words, then quickly said, “Aren’t all doctors like that? You never know when there might be an emergency patient.”
Saying this, I recalled my bitter history. After getting together with James, he was busy every day, so busy that we might not even exchange a few words in a day. Most of the time, I just curled up on the couch watching TV alone.
My boyfriend was like a decoration, and yet I still stuck with James for a year. I admire myself for that.
Ryan no longer seemed suspicious and said, “Indeed. But recently, he came here on a business trip, apparently for a job transfer. The hospital here has invited him several times, but I guess James probably won’t come to develop his career here.”
My heart skipped a beat. Job transfer? Coming here to develop his career?
Isn’t this going to be the death of me? Back then, I went to great lengths just to escape from that heartbreaking place where he was, and now James might have the opportunity to develop here?
But since they’ve invited him several times and he hasn’t come, it’s probably unlikely.
Thinking of this, my heart settled back down. Ryan leaned in mysteriously, “What? You’ve taken a liking to him?”
I rolled my eyes at him, “Would you fall for someone who’s not normal?”
Ryan thought for a moment and felt it made perfect sense, “Well, I guess anyone who could fall for James would probably have to be a bit of a germaphobe like him.”
Me, “?”
I feel like I’ve just been insulted.
Ryan was called away by other friends to drink and chat, and I didn’t fit into that scene. Just then, having had a bit too much to drink, I wanted to use the restroom. But as soon as I walked out of the banquet hall, I saw a figure leaning on the railing. Dressed in a suit, I suddenly imagined him in a white coat saving lives, while using those beautiful, slender hands to perform surgery and at the same time complaining about how dirty the patient was here and there.
I suddenly couldn’t hold back my laughter, then lightened my footsteps, planning to sneak away.
I really didn’t know how to face James.
But after just two steps, I was stopped by a familiar voice, “Lily Sanders, where are you planning to run off to this time?”
I took a deep breath, then calmly turned around, “Oh, if it isn’t Dr. Quinn. I don’t think we’re that familiar, what business is it of yours where I go?”
James narrowed his eyes and walked towards me, his aura intimidating. I felt the pressure, “Not familiar? Can’t I care about my ex-girlfriend?”
Care, this word actually came out of James’s mouth. I thought he would never care about anyone.
I awkwardly forced a smile, “Dr. Quinn, you seem to have forgotten, we’ve already broken up.”
James was very tall, a full head and a half taller than me. My eyes at level could only see his chest. Looking at his chest, I was reminded of the scene two years ago when I forced myself on him. Today he was dressed the same, wearing a suit with a white shirt underneath, and a neatly tied bow tie, exuding an aura of restraint.
My inner self screamed, Lily Sanders! I knew you couldn’t possibly be that kind of abnormal person, you must have pursued him because you coveted James’s good looks.
“Are you Ryan’s girlfriend?”
I was stunned, not expecting James to ask such a foolish question. Hadn’t we just introduced this earlier?
“Yes.”
“Break up with him, and don’t see him again.”
I looked up at him in surprise. It was still those almond eyes, but this time, they were no longer calm and unruffled, but filled with anger, even a hint of fury.
I got angry, “Are you sick? If you’re sick, go get treatment.”
With that, I didn’t want to tangle with him anymore and turned to leave. But the next second, my wrist was gripped by James, and with great force, I was pulled into his arms. James’s deep voice sounded in my ear, “Lily Sanders, you’ve really learned some new tricks in these two years.”
Then, after he finished speaking, he actually took the initiative to kiss my earlobe, and then gently bit it.
My brain instantly exploded. James must be having some issues today, not only hugging me on his own initiative but also kissing me.
“James! Let go of me, what do you mean by this? Do you want me to report you for harassment?”
I felt my forehead throbbing, then coughed twice, “I’ve already told you I have a boyfriend.”
James suddenly laughed, “Boyfriend? Ryan has already confessed honestly, said you scammed him out of six thousand dollars.”
Me, “…”
At this moment, another familiar voice called out to me, “Lily…”
Ryan walked out from inside, closing the door behind him, “You two know each other, don’t you?”
This matter definitely couldn’t be covered up anymore, I had to admit it even if I didn’t want to, “Mm, he’s my… not-so-normal ex-boyfriend.”
I originally thought Ryan would be very gossipy and ask about our relationship, but he only looked at James with some hostility, then said, “Was he harassing you just now?”
I nodded vigorously, James’s almond eyes narrowed, looking very angry.
Ryan pulled me over and said to James, “Although I consider you a friend, James, if you didn’t try to keep Lily two years ago, why are you coming to harass her now?”
What he said made a lot of sense, but when I looked up and saw the flash of loss in James’s eyes, my heart involuntarily tightened again.
Then, Ryan pulled me away in front of James, not returning to the gathering, but directly taking me to his car.
I was lost in thought the whole way, until Ryan called out to me, and I came back to my senses, “Lily, do you still like James?”
For some reason, I heard a hint of caution in Ryan’s tone. I paused, not saying anything.
I couldn’t answer.
The car was very quiet. Finally, I heard Ryan give a bitter laugh, trying to sound relaxed as he said, “I get it. By the way, thanks for pretending to be my girlfriend today. In the future, you won’t be able to scam money out of me anymore. Let me take you home.”
I’m not a young girl experiencing her first love. Of course, I knew Ryan’s subtle feelings. So I opened my mouth and said, “I’m sorry.”
“No need to trouble you, I’ll take a taxi back myself.”
My tone was polite and distant. Ryan watched me get out of the passenger seat but didn’t stop me. The car stayed in front of me for about a minute, and finally drove away.
I took a taxi all the way home, sat on the couch and stared blankly for a long time. After two years, I thought I had long since let go, but when I saw James, the high walls I had painstakingly built in my heart crumbled without a fight.
Fragile beyond imagination.
The more I thought, the more heartbroken I felt. Finally, I channeled my grief into appetite, tearfully ordered fried chicken. At the banquet earlier, I had only drunk alcohol, now I would be lying if I said I wasn’t hungry.
As a result, I ate myself into the hospital in the middle of the night, diagnosed with gastritis.
I just remembered that in these two years of living alone, I was really comfortable. I could come home and do nothing, lie on the couch and play with my phone, order takeout when hungry, drink beverages when thirsty.
It had more or less affected my stomach. In my foggy state, I suddenly heard, during the year I was with James, although he demanded perfection in my personal matters, he would also knock on my door every day to call me for meals.
The meals he cooked himself. Only, every time we ate, I would be scolded by him, like, you dropped a grain of rice, can’t you drink soup without spilling it, and so on.
It seems his germaphobia was always the most prominent, so prominent that it could make people forget all his other qualities.
I had the misfortune of ending up in the hospital, and even worse luck to see James’s familiar face. It was the first time I saw him looking panicked, with a group of doctors in white coats behind him.
Then I was pushed away by him, becoming a patient under his care.
Enduring the severe pain in my stomach, I asked, “Aren’t you not a doctor here? How come you’re in charge now?”
James replied without changing his expression, “I will be in the future.”
My heart sank, no longer speaking. At this time, James raised his hand and used his gloved finger to wipe the corner of my mouth. I had a bad feeling, sure enough, James raised an eyebrow, “Fried chicken? Or barbecue?”
“Shut up.”
A nurse beside me comforted me while saying, “Don’t worry, you might need to have a gastroscopy. Do you want to do it with direct intubation or under general anesthesia? General anesthesia requires a family member’s signature.”
I was shocked. I’m the kind of person who fears nothing except injections and surgeries. Just thinking about how I saw others do gastroscopy before, with such a thick tube directly inserted into the throat, I was terrified, “General anesthesia, I want general anesthesia.”
The nurse nodded, “Okay, then where’s your family member?”
I suddenly remembered that I’m actually an orphan without parents. When I was in high school, my parents died in a car accident. I went to college relying on that little bit of compensation money and scholarships.
Where would I have any family members in this world?
James looked at me, then said to the nurse, “Go get the consent form, I’m her family member, I’ll sign it.”
I looked at James strangely, but the severe abdominal pain prevented me from speaking.
With one shot of anesthesia, I lost consciousness. When I woke up, I was already lying in a ward, with a nurse checking my IV drip. I swallowed my dry throat and asked, “Nurse, where’s Dr. Quinn?”
That nurse was the one who gave me the anesthesia. She looked down at me, “Dr. Quinn has gone back to the hospital over there, he won’t be taking up his position here for a couple of days.”
My eyes were dizzy, “He agreed to the transfer?”
The nurse nodded with a suppressed smile, “Yes, after all, his family is here, how could he not transfer?”
I tugged at the corner of my mouth, denying, “I’m not his family member.”
The nurse looked unconvinced, “Then last night…”
Me, “Can you expect a not-so-normal person to say normal things?”
Nurse, “…”
Lying in bed waiting for the anesthesia to wear off, I suddenly remembered that I still had to go to work today. I hurriedly opened my phone, looking at the time displayed on it.
10:30 AM.
I dejectedly lay back down, unlocked my phone, about to explain to the manager.
But as soon as I opened it, ding ding ding came several messages.
It was the manager’s message box, with three messages sent at nine in the morning, “When did you get married?”
“You’ve been hiding it deep.”
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#NovelMaster #现实主义Realistic #浪漫Romance #惊悚Thriller #励志Inspiring
I’m an ordinary working-class woman, living in a small town and raising a family.
When my daughter turned thirteen, I found out that she was actually the only daughter of the Johnson Corporation’s CEO.
Years ago, there had been a mix-up at the hospital, and my biological daughter had been raised by the Johnson family.
I didn’t hesitate. I immediately brought my real daughter home.
I didn’t want the confusion over their identities to torment them for the rest of their lives, nor did I want them to be caught in lifelong resentment and hatred.
Both girls are my daughters, and I love them equally.
Madison, the girl raised by mistake, had lived with me for thirteen years.
We were incredibly close—mother and daughter, friends, even best friends.
She never hid anything from me. We watched TV shows together, read novels, played video games, and attended comic conventions side by side.
Once, while sitting on the couch watching a soap opera about a mix-up between an heiress and an imposter, Madison asked me,
“Why can’t they just get along? Why do they have to fight to the bitter end? The lady treats both of them so well.”
“Probably because the script demands it,” I shrugged. “The more dramatic it is, the higher the ratings.”
We never imagined that this storyline would become Madison’s reality.
Mr. Johnson called me to tell me that Madison was his biological daughter and that he wanted to take her back to the Johnson family.
I was stunned, and so was Madison.
She said it had to be a scam and refused to go.
But after looking at the DNA test results sent by the Johnson family, I knew they wouldn’t joke about something like this.
Eventually, the Johnson family came to take Madison.
A Rolls-Royce pulled up outside our old apartment building, drawing the attention of everyone in the neighborhood.
Madison was nervous and uneasy; she was about to meet the parents she had never known.
My husband and I stood downstairs with her as they arrived. I asked the person picking her up,
“Can I go with Madison to the Johnson home?”
The person hesitated and called Mrs. Johnson.
“You may,” Mrs. Johnson replied.
Madison visibly relaxed, clearly happy that I was coming along.
We took the Rolls-Royce to the airport. The Johnson family didn’t live in this small town; they were based in San Francisco.
On the private plane they’d arranged, Madison was ecstatic.
It was her first time flying, and she spent the entire flight gazing out the window at the clouds,
exclaiming, “Mom, it’s so beautiful!”
Watching her excitement stirred complicated feelings within me.
I didn’t know whether this swap of identities would be a blessing or a curse for both Madison and my biological daughter, Savannah.
Yes, my real daughter was Savannah Johnson.
I had come to the Johnson family partly to support Madison but also to bring my biological daughter, Savannah, back home.
When we arrived in San Francisco, I was flooded with emotions.
Years ago, when my husband and I visited San Francisco, I’d gone into early labor at a hospital here.
That’s when Madison and Savannah were mistakenly switched, sending them down different paths for the first thirteen years of their lives.
The Johnson mansion was opulent, with a pool, gardens, and a gym.
Everything Madison had never known was now hers.
Everything Savannah had grown used to was no longer hers.
I wondered how these two girls would handle the stark contrast between their lives.
Mrs. Johnson stood before me, stunning and impeccably groomed, with an air of grace and elegance.
“Thank you for taking such good care of Madison for the past thirteen years,” she said, hugging Madison close, unable to look away from her.
Standing next to her was a young girl, whom I guessed was Savannah—my biological daughter. She resembled me, but her expression was troubled, her eyes unreadable.
I stepped forward and embraced her. She resisted at first, but in the end, didn’t pull away.
I gently stroked her cheek and said to Mrs. Johnson, “Thank you for taking care of my daughter for these past thirteen years. She’s beautiful, and she looks a lot like me.”
“I’m planning to catch the evening flight back to Cedarville with Savannah,” I added. “We’re on a tight schedule, so we’ll head out.”
For a moment, no one spoke. Mrs. Johnson, Savannah, and Madison all remained silent.
After a while, Mrs. Johnson finally said, “I love Savannah. She’s my daughter too. She can stay here with Madison if she wants.”
Savannah visibly stiffened and swayed slightly.
“Mom,” Madison and Savannah both called out, though Madison was speaking to me and Savannah to Mrs. Johnson.
Savannah was the first to speak up. “Mom, I’m going back with my mom.”
“Don’t overthink it, Savannah. You’ll always be my daughter. You can stay,” Mrs. Johnson urged, her affection for Savannah evident.
I smiled. “Savannah is my daughter too. I haven’t seen her for thirteen years, and I’ve missed her dearly.”
The Johnsons were a wealthy family, offering a world of resources and status that I could never give to either Savannah or Madison.
Mrs. Johnson was kind and loved both girls deeply.
But I knew that Madison returning to the Johnson family and Savannah coming home with me was the best decision for both of them.
I couldn’t irresponsibly leave my biological daughter behind, nor could I selfishly keep Madison, ruining her future.
“As mothers, we both love our children. I hope you understand,” I said.
Mrs. Johnson didn’t argue further and agreed.
Before we left, I told Madison she was welcome to visit us anytime she missed me or my husband.
Mrs. Johnson also assured Savannah that she would always love her and that the Johnson home would always be open to her.
That night, Savannah and I boarded the plane back to Cedarville.
On the flight, Savannah remained silent, and so did I.
I could tell she was struggling.
Her first thirteen years had been secure, comfortable, and privileged.
Mr. and Mrs. Johnson had treated her like the apple of their eye.
Now, she had been told that everything she knew was a lie, and that I was her real mother.
Anyone would have a hard time accepting that.
As I stared out at the dark clouds, I wondered how I could help her come to terms with everything and build a relationship with her.
By the time we landed in Cedarville, it was late at night.
Both of us were hungry, so I suggested we grab a bite to eat before heading home.
She nodded in agreement.
I knew of a little diner at the intersection of two streets downtown that served great food.
The alleyways in Cedarville were narrow and tricky to navigate—only locals really knew how to find this place.
Even though Cedarville wasn’t as bustling as San Francisco, it had its own charm, with bright lights filling the night sky.
Savannah had never been to a place like this.
Though she didn’t say much, I could see her excitement in her wide-eyed curiosity.
Her eyes gleamed as they reflected the lively scene around us—the food carts passing by, the small, low stools and chairs, and the simple disposable utensils wrapped in cheap napkins.
I pulled her toward a little diner that sold burgers and hotdogs, the one I frequented.
“Do you like spicy food?” I asked Savannah.
She shook her head.
“Hey, Mike,” I called to the owner. “Two large mac and cheese, one with spice and one without.”
“Got it,” Mike replied. “And two bottles of Coke, right?” I added.
Savannah gave me a surprised look. It was late in the fall, and she hadn’t expected me to order iced drinks.
Not long after, two steaming plates of mac and cheese arrived, along with two cold bottles of Coca-Cola.
I grabbed a bottle opener and expertly popped the caps off both sodas.
“How did you do that?” Savannah asked, clearly impressed. She hadn’t learned how to open glass bottles yet.
I laughed and called out, “Mike, bring two more Cokes!”
I picked up the opener again. “Watch closely.” I popped another cap off with a quick flick.
“Here, your turn,” I said, handing her the opener.
Savannah hesitated before taking it. She tried twice but couldn’t quite get the cap off.
“You’ve got to hook the lip of the opener under the cap,” I explained, guiding her hand, “and then use a bit of force.”
With a pop, the bottle opened.
Savannah looked up at me, pleased, but the joy quickly faded, and she dropped her gaze again.
I knew she still harbored resentment toward me, still uneasy about my decision to bring her home.
I sighed. “I know you’re struggling to accept me as your mother, and you’re upset that I took you away from the Johnsons.”
Savannah gripped her Coke bottle, then relaxed her hold.
Her reaction didn’t surprise me; I expected her to feel this way.
“When Mrs. Johnson asked if you could stay, why didn’t you agree?”
“I didn’t want to make Mom feel awkward,” she whispered softly, still calling Mrs. Johnson “Mom.”
I took a sip of my Coke, the cold liquid refreshing.
“Savannah, in this situation, staying with the Johnsons would have made things uncomfortable for you.”
“No, it wouldn’t,” she said firmly.
I didn’t push the issue further. “Eat up. The food won’t taste as good once it gets cold.”
I picked up my fork and dug into the mac and cheese. It was delicious—neither too greasy nor too dry, just right.
Savannah eyed the simple plates and utensils, hesitating, but then took her first bite.
After swallowing, her expression shifted to surprise, and she continued eating.
“Tastes better than you thought, huh?” I laughed.
“Sometimes, you don’t know what you like until you give it a try,” I said, watching her with a smile.
We were both starving from the long day, and soon, we’d finished two large plates of mac and cheese and four bottles of Coke.
To be precise, Savannah had one bottle, and I drank the other three out of a sense of not wanting to waste them.
Savannah watched me drink the last of the soda and then remarked, “You’re really different from Mrs. Johnson.”
I chuckled. “Oh, you’ll see. There are plenty more differences.”
After dinner, we walked home.
It was dark, with only the faint yellow glow from the streetlights guiding our way.
Savannah pulled her suitcase behind her, keeping her distance from me.
We trudged along in silence, step by step, until we finally reached our apartment complex.
Our building was old, with six floors and no elevator. The motion-sensor lights in the stairwell barely worked.
Savannah stared up at the dark, seemingly endless stairwell and shrank back a little.
“Let me carry your suitcase for you,” I offered.
She handed it over without protest, and I led her up the stairs to our apartment on the sixth floor.
“Savannah, welcome home,” I said when we reached the door.
She took a moment to glance around, though there wasn’t much to see in the dark.
“That mac and cheese was really good,” she said out of nowhere. Then she added, “And the Coke was nice too.”
I unlocked the door, one hand on Savannah’s shoulder as I pushed it open.
“Welcome home,” I repeated.
Once inside, I found a pair of new slippers for Savannah, not wanting to give her Madison’s old ones.
Our apartment was small, just three bedrooms and a living room.
One room was mine and James’s, one had been Madison’s, and the other belonged to her younger sister, Emma, who was away at boarding school.
Since Emma was rarely home, I decided Savannah could stay in her room for now.
Madison’s room still had all of her things in it, and I didn’t want Savannah to feel uncomfortable seeing them. I’d get it ready for her tomorrow.
“Savannah, this is your sister Emma’s room. You can sleep here tonight, and I’ll have your own room ready tomorrow,” I told her.
“Okay,” she nodded.
Savannah walked into the room and turned on the light.
The space was small—tiny compared to her room at the Johnson mansion.
There was a bed, a desk, a chair, a closet, and a simple bookshelf made from cheap materials.
On the shelves were a few scattered children’s books, some school supplies, a worn-out dictionary, and an old English dictionary with frayed edges.
Savannah frowned as she sat on the bed.
I knew she felt awkward, unsure of how to adjust to her new surroundings.
“Here’s a new set of pajamas for you,” I said, handing her a neatly folded pile of clothes.
“The sheets are fresh too, so you don’t need to worry,” I added.
“It’s not that, I just…I’m not used to it,” Savannah admitted quietly.
“I understand,” I said, touching her hand gently.
“Let me know if you need anything,” I said as I turned to leave.
“Goodnight, sweetheart,” I said as I left the room, leaving the lights on.
I kept the light in the living room on as well, in case she got up in the night and needed to find her way to the bathroom.
That night, I lay awake in bed, unable to sleep.
I was worried about how Savannah would handle the transition, and whether Madison was adjusting to life at the Johnson home.
My mind raced, and I wasn’t sure when I finally fell asleep.
The next morning, I was up by seven.
Savannah had probably been exhausted from the previous day, so I didn’t wake her.
Instead, I went about tidying up Madison’s old room, swapping out the sheets and packing away her figurines and collectibles.
I noticed that Savannah’s suitcase had a Golden Retriever drawn on it, and her phone case also featured a Golden Retriever.
Quietly, I made a note to pick up a Golden Retriever pillow for her later.
After cleaning up Madison’s room, I prepared breakfast and left a note for Savannah on the table.
I headed out to the farmer’s market, buying a fresh fish, some ribs, and a few vegetables.
On my way back, I passed a new toy store and picked out a Golden Retriever stuffed animal and a matching pillow.
When I returned home, Savannah had just woken up and was getting ready for the day.
I set the breakfast on the coffee table: golden-brown donuts, rich and creamy soy milk, freshly sliced pickles, tofu covered in a tangy sauce, and steaming tea eggs.
The smell of food filled the house.
“Good morning,” Savannah said nervously.
“Well, it’s not really morning anymore,” she added sheepishly. “I slept in too late.”
“Come eat,” I said, placing a donut on her plate.
“I love pairing pickles and tofu with donuts. I’m not sure if you’ll like it, but we can always switch it up if you don’t,” I told her.
I stood up and asked, “Want some spicy kimchi or pickled veggies? I’ve also got vinegar and hot sauce in the kitchen.”
“No, no, this is fine,” Savannah replied quickly.
She sat up straight while eating, carefully holding her chopsticks, chewing silently, and maintaining an elegant posture, just like a princess.
After breakfast, I went to wash the dishes, and Savannah hesitated, as if she wanted to help but didn’t know how to ask.
“Savannah, could you help me dry the dishes after I wash them?” I asked.
“Of course,” she said, rushing over.
It was clear she wasn’t used to this kind of work, moving awkwardly as she dried the plates, but I patiently waited as she finished each one before handing her the next.
“Savannah, how about grilled fish and barbecue ribs for lunch? I picked up some fresh fish at the market this morning.”
“That sounds good,” she said.
After we finished cleaning up, I took her hand and led her to her room.
“I tidied up Madison’s old room earlier. Take a look and see if you need anything else,” I said.
“Oh, and I got these for you,” I added, handing her the Golden Retriever stuffed animal and pillow.
“Savannah, how about we put these on the bed?” I suggested.
“Okay,” she nodded.
I placed the plush toy and pillow on her bed.
“There’s a new toy store near the market,” I explained, “I wasn’t sure what to get, so I picked these. Next time, let’s go together and pick out more of what you like.”
I watched her nervously, hoping she’d like them.
She gently touched the stuffed animal, and then, unexpectedly, tears began streaming down her face, soaking the soft fur of the Golden Retriever.
I stood there silently, not knowing what to say, leaning against the wall.
Savannah hugged the plush toy tightly.
“Savannah?” I whispered softly.
She broke down, crying uncontrollably.
The sudden shift in her life had been too much for a thirteen-year-old to handle.
She had been holding back her emotions for too long, ever since the DNA test results came out.
I walked over and embraced her, gently stroking her back.
This time, she didn’t resist and sobbed in my arms, her tears soaking my shirt.
But they weren’t cold; they were warm, carrying the heat of her small body.
“Mom,” Savannah finally cried out.
“Mom, I’m sorry,” she sobbed.
“There’s nothing to be sorry for, Savannah. I’m just so happy, so happy,” I said, holding her tightly.
It felt like the world had shrunk down to just the two of us in that moment.
“It feels like my first thirteen years were stolen from me,” Savannah choked out.
“When I saw the DNA test, I didn’t want to believe it. I didn’t want it to be real.”
“I know, sweetie, I know,” I said, brushing her hair.
“This wasn’t your fault. I love you, and Mrs. Johnson loves you too.”
She stayed in my arms, crying until she had no more strength left.
I held her the entire time.
Sometimes, you just need to cry it all out.
Finally, Savannah calmed down. I handed her some tissues to wipe away her tears.
“Now, do you think your room needs anything else?” I asked.
“No, it’s fine,” Savannah said quietly.
“Do you like any particular colors? Maybe we can change the bedding,” I offered.
“Green,” she said after thinking for a moment. “A deeper green, like the color of tree leaves in the summer.”
She pulled out her phone and showed me a picture.
“Got it. I’ll make sure your bedding is that exact shade of green,” I smiled at her.
Together, we changed the bedsheets and added a few potted flowers around the room.
Savannah looked around, satisfied. “Not bad,” she said with a small smile.
That afternoon, around five, Emma came home.
Since she stayed at her school most of the time, she didn’t yet know about the mix-up between Savannah and Madison.
As soon as she walked in, she called out, “Sis, sis!”
“Emma, I need to tell you something,” I said.
“What is it, Mom? Hurry, I want to hang out with my sister!” Emma said impatiently.
“Madison is actually the only daughter of the Johnson family. Savannah is your real sister. They were switched at birth,” I explained.
Emma stared at me, clearly confused.
“What are you talking about, Mom? What Johnson family? What Savannah?” she asked, her face scrunching up.
I told her the whole story, and from her expression, I could tell she understood.
But she refused to accept it.
“No, Mom, you’re lying! You’re lying to me! Madison is my real sister. We even have the same last name! She’s been my sister ever since I was born.”
Emma shouted and ran to Savannah’s room.
“Sis, sis!” she yelled, but when she saw Savannah instead of Madison, she cried out,
“Who are you? You’re not my sister! Get out! Give me back my sister! Go back to your Johnson family!”
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#NovelMaster #现实主义Realistic #浪漫Romance #惊悚Thriller #励志Inspiring
My name is Mark Foster. I met my girlfriend, Jessica Monroe, back in college. It was a bit of a Cinderella story—though I wasn’t exactly a prince, Jessica really was the Cinderella of this tale.
Her parents ran a small breakfast shop in New York, selling donuts, coffee, and breakfast sandwiches. I had a habit of exercising in the mornings, and the campus cafeteria’s food was far from appealing.
So, I often grabbed breakfast from her parents’ shop off-campus. That’s where I first met Jessica, helping out in the family business.
She was beautiful, especially when her bangs stuck to her forehead with sweat, giving her a delicate, almost fragile charm.
We soon discovered that we went to the same university, and I quickly pursued her. We dated for three years of our four years in college.
Jessica was a local girl with a younger brother, Damian, still in high school. Her parents had once worked in a factory but started selling breakfasts after they lost their jobs, trying to make ends meet.
My family, on the other hand, was from out of state, involved in business for generations. But for certain reasons, my parents insisted I never reveal our family’s true background to anyone.
Their plan for me was simple: after graduation, return home to take over the family business.
As graduation approached, I made yet another attempt to persuade Jessica to come with me. I pictured a life where we’d marry, settle down, and live happily ever after. I’d earn the money; she’d be the beautiful wife at my side.
I thought it was a practical and romantic idea. But Jessica disagreed.
Her reason was simple: her parents and brother were all here in New York.
What was I supposed to do?
Should we part ways and go our separate paths?
Or should I abandon the road my family laid out for me for the sake of three years of love?
Jessica was gentle, beautiful, and filial, a hardworking girl. I couldn’t bear to let her go.
In my youthful impulsiveness, I made a bold decision.
I would stay with Jessica and walk a new path with her.
My parents were furious, but my stubbornness left them no choice but to accept it.
Jessica, on the other hand, was thrilled. She said I had proved my love for her with my actions.
And I felt lucky to have found such pure love in this world.
But love couldn’t feed us. After the emotions faded, we faced the harsh reality.
Survival.
Fresh out of college, we had no experience. We struggled to find jobs, either scammed by shady recruiters or left waiting endlessly for callbacks from companies.
The streets were filled with Master’s and Ph.D. graduates. Our bachelor’s degrees didn’t mean much.
Still, we foolishly believed we’d land a good job eventually.
That is, until my wallet only had enough left to buy instant mac and cheese from an internet café.
Only then did I realize how right my parents had been all along.
To achieve dreams and live a happy life, a solid financial foundation was essential.
Jessica could always go home to eat when she was hungry, but what about me?
I couldn’t just shamelessly freeload at her house.
I started to reconsider things. It wasn’t just about landing a good job anymore.
After talking it over with Jessica, we decided to go in a different direction—starting our own business.
Why work for someone else when we could work for ourselves?
I thought Jessica’s family business wasn’t bad at all. The problem was that their customers were mainly college students, so when school was out, business plummeted.
After doing some market research, I suggested we open a new shop in a different location.
I had the perfect spot in mind—a residential area in the old part of town.
This area had several neighborhoods connected, mostly filled with retirees and working-class renters.
High foot traffic, cheap rent—perfect for a small diner.
Jessica’s parents agreed, but the problem was money.
We needed funds for the lease, renovations, and buying tables, chairs, and utensils.
Jessica’s parents had saved some money over the years, but they were hesitant to use it for expansion. They feared a new location wouldn’t do well.
Plus, Jessica’s brother, Damian, was set to take his SATs next year, and with his grades, a private school was the only option, which meant more money.
Considering all that, her parents’ support was limited to helping us physically with the new diner.
Left with no choice, I swallowed my pride and asked my family for $20,000 to use as startup capital.
When it came to renting the space, Jessica’s parents had a different idea.
They thought we should rent a small kitchen space and set up the tables and chairs outside to save on rent and renovation costs.
Their thinking was still stuck in the mindset of their university town business.
Most students didn’t care about dining in—they grabbed their food to go, heading back to their dorms or the library.
But this residential area was home to over ten thousand people, and there were already several breakfast places.
With similar menus and flavors, we needed something to set us apart.
So, I insisted we rent four adjacent storefronts, knock down the walls, and combine them.
We made the smallest space into the kitchen, while the others served as the dining area.
For the interior, I went with warm colors, focusing on cleanliness and simplicity rather than luxury.
We also standardized all the utensils.
Before opening, I did a lot of promotion, distributing flyers and advertising in community social media groups.
The $20,000 I got from my family dwindled down to just a few thousand.
Jessica’s parents weren’t thrilled. They thought I was wasting money.
But maybe hard work does pay off. On opening day, the place was packed.
We sold out of three large containers of coffee in less than an hour.
By 8 AM, when the office workers came by for breakfast, the kitchen was already empty.
That initial success gave me a lot of confidence.
I realized I had inherited my family’s business acumen.
I threw myself into learning the trade. People of different ages, genders, and even personalities all had different preferences for breakfast.
We expanded the menu, introduced loyalty rewards, and created promotions.
Within six months, we had earned back our initial investment.
Not only that, but we had also expanded from four to eight storefronts.
Before, it was just Jessica’s parents working in the kitchen, with Jessica and me waiting tables. Now, we had six employees, and we still couldn’t keep up with the demand.
Back when Jessica’s parents ran their shop near the university, they closed by 10 AM.
I introduced an all-day service model.
Who said diners had to serve only breakfast?
We sold sandwiches and coffee in the morning, soups and quick meals at lunch, and hired a chef to prepare home-style dishes for dinner.
Late at night, we served snacks for night shift workers.
In just six months, our little breakfast cart had turned into a full-fledged diner.
Daily revenue skyrocketed. Jessica’s family no longer needed to rely on their old breakfast business to get by.
“Who knew business could be done like this!” Jessica’s father exclaimed more than once.
As the business grew, we needed more structure.
The business license was in her dad’s name. Her mom was the co-owner, and Jessica naturally became the heir to the business.
It seemed like I was the only one not officially part of it, just someone helping out.
As for the $20,000 I had borrowed from my family, no one ever mentioned it again.
But that didn’t matter. I loved Jessica. How could true love be measured by money?
The more I thought about it, the more feasible it seemed. I shared my plan with Jessica.
Jessica didn’t know much about security systems, but when she heard it could make a lot of money, she immediately supported me.
She even urged me to get started as soon as possible, worried someone else might beat us to it.
No time to waste, I got to work immediately. The first step was market research.
For the next ten days, I visited every electronics store in Los Angeles that sold security systems, along with all the small retailers in the streets.
Besides learning about prices, brands, and suppliers, I also tried to understand the profit margins of the business.
During the day, I was constantly on the move. At night, I barely had time to rest, staying up late to cram as much information about security systems as I could online, like it was SAT prep all over again.
By the end of those ten days, I had lost five pounds.
But Jessica’s parents weren’t impressed. They thought I was neglecting the diner, running around doing “nothing important.”
When I finally completed a detailed business plan, I presented it to Jessica and her parents.
However, it was met with strong opposition.
Having tasted the success of the diner, Jessica’s parents’ ambitions had grown. They wanted to earn all the money in the world.
But their ambition far outweighed their courage.
According to my calculations, opening a security equipment store would require at least $50,000 in upfront capital.
Rent and renovations were minor costs. The bulk of the money would go toward inventory.
The price of a basic security camera ranged from a few hundred to several thousand dollars, but the necessary systems and equipment often started at $10,000.
The $50,000 I estimated was the bare minimum based on my research of supplier prices.
Jessica’s parents thought spending $50,000 on an unfamiliar industry was too risky.
What if the business failed? What if the equipment didn’t sell?
We’d be left with a pile of cameras and wires, which couldn’t be eaten or sold for scrap.
But no business is risk-free.
Even though I told them the profit margins were high—one successful deal could easily bring in double the cost—they were still too scared to take the plunge.
Seeing that I couldn’t convince her parents, I turned to Jessica.
I asked her if she was willing to stick with the diner for the rest of her life, or if she was ready to take a gamble with me and turn a small business into something bigger.
If we succeeded, our lives would change dramatically.
Of course, Jessica preferred the bigger dreams over the small ones.
So, she took it upon herself to persuade her parents.
In the end, after much effort from Jessica, her parents reluctantly agreed to invest $20,000.
As for the remaining $30,000, I’d have to figure that out on my own.
To be honest, I was pretty upset when I heard this.
Back when we started the diner, her parents were also reluctant to invest any money.
It was only because I got $20,000 from my family that we were able to open the diner at all.
Now that the diner was making money, they hadn’t even mentioned repaying that initial $20,000.
And now, when it came to the security business, they were only willing to invest $20,000.
Was this paying back the money from the diner, or was it a new investment?
“Mark, are you mad?” Jessica asked.
“My parents are getting old, and they’re cautious. Please don’t hold it against them, okay?”
“I’m the one who supports you, and I’m the one who will be with you for life. I love you!” Jessica said, wrapping her arms around my neck.
That “I love you” washed away all my frustration.
She was right. Jessica would be my partner for life, and everything I was doing was for our future.
I still needed $30,000, so I swallowed my pride and went back to my parents.
The reason was simple: I told them the $20,000 they had given me for the diner was lost.
They were upset, but they gave me the money.
With the startup funds in place, I immediately got to work.
I rented a small, 86-square-foot storefront under an electronics mall in Los Angeles.
The renovation didn’t need to be fancy—a fresh coat of paint, a big sign, two shelves, and a counter would do.
I left the paperwork and licensing details to Jessica.
Then, I boarded a train heading south.
According to my earlier research, all the security cameras and related equipment in the city came from a few factories in the southern states.
The electronics mall offered wholesale options, but they were still more expensive than buying directly from the source.
With limited funds, every penny counted.
In the early stages of starting a business, saving money by taking a day-long train ride seemed worth it.
Hard work, determination, and the willingness to endure hardship can indeed yield unexpected rewards.
When I arrived in Houston, I didn’t waste any time. I visited several factories in a row.
I compared prices and quality to get the best deal.
But these factories mostly dealt with national orders, shipping out entire truckloads at a time.
Someone like me, buying such a small quantity, wasn’t even on their radar.
After hitting several dead ends, I started to lose hope. I wondered if I should shift my focus and look for smaller distributors.
Then, an unexpected encounter changed everything.
As I was arguing with the security guard at the entrance of the largest factory, trying to convince him to let me in, a Maybach pulled up behind me.
“Mark?”
The window rolled down, and a middle-aged man called out, sounding uncertain.
“Do I know you?” I looked closely at his face but didn’t recognize him.
“Is your dad James Foster?” he asked.
I nodded. It seemed like he knew my father.
“I thought so! You look just like him. Get in the car,” he said, pushing the door open for me.
I wasn’t worried. This wasn’t the type of place where people got kidnapped or trafficked, so I got in the car without hesitation.
After chatting for a while, I found out that this man, Mr. Carter, was the owner of the factory.
Back in the day, he had been business partners with my father, and they had a close relationship.
Although they no longer worked together, they remained friends and were part of the same business association.
When Mr. Carter found out I was there to discuss prices, he immediately called his secretary.
Right there, he asked her for the factory’s base prices and then offered me the equipment at 30% off the wholesale rate.
It wasn’t free, but it was close.
“Mr. Carter, this seems too generous. You have costs too,” I said, feeling a bit guilty. The discount was too steep.
Plus, this factory produced some of the top security equipment in the country.
“Mark, the amount you need wouldn’t even cover our daily production losses. No need to be polite.”
“To be honest, I still make a small profit at that price. It’s just a bit lower than usual.”
“I’ve heard from your dad that you’re starting your own business, so consider this my support for you,” Mr. Carter said casually.
Since he had put it that way, I accepted the offer.
After all, the lower the cost, the higher the profit.
I could already see success smiling at me from just around the corner.
The security equipment store finally opened—no grand opening, no band, just a simple firecracker to mark the occasion.
The tiny storefront was so small that two people could barely walk side by side, but it held my biggest dreams to date.
One thing bothered me though: the name on the business license.
Before I left, I told Jessica to put either her name or mine on it, but when I looked, it was her dad’s.
“I don’t really understand this stuff, so I asked my dad to handle it. Maybe he wrote the wrong name by accident. If you’re unhappy, we can always change it back,” Jessica explained when I questioned her.
I wasn’t thrilled, but there was nothing I could do about it.
For one, I didn’t want Jessica to feel bad, and for another, I didn’t want to upset her dad.
One day, he’d be my father-in-law, and she’d be my wife. No matter how annoyed I was, I couldn’t show it.
In the first few days of the store’s opening, business was slow.
Security systems aren’t like food; everyone needs to eat, but not everyone needs surveillance installed. Plus, there were already hundreds of retailers, big and small, in the city selling similar products.
For days, we had no customers.
After a while, Jessica began to worry.
“Mark, is this business even going to work? It’s been three days, and we haven’t sold a single thing,” she said, her eyes fixed on the door, her voice tinged with anxiety for the hundredth time.
“Every new business starts like this. Once we build a reputation, you’ll be so busy you won’t know what to do,” I reassured her, though I wasn’t feeling all that confident myself.
Then, finally, our first client walked through the door.
It was a property management company from a local apartment complex.
One of the buildings in their complex needed a complete replacement of its surveillance system.
Each unit had three elevators, with a camera in each. The building had 28 floors, and each floor needed cameras in the elevator lobby, the hallways, and the fire exits.
In total, for the three-unit building, including the lobby, they needed 264 cameras. Plus, they required an entire surveillance system to go with it.
The customer had just come from the electronics mall, where the lowest quote he got was $260 per camera, and the system would cost $12,000. Altogether, replacing the cameras would cost nearly $80,000.
The wholesale price for cameras was around $100, but with Mr. Carter backing me, I was able to get them for under $30 each, and the system was priced at $4,000.
If I took this job, my total cost would be just under $12,000.
“Flat rate, $60,000, and I’ll replace everything. Plus, I’ll guarantee the system for three years,” I told the client after doing some quick math.
“No one in the city can beat that price.”
The client hesitated for a moment, then nodded. “Alright, but I need an invoice for $70,000.”
I understood what he meant by the extra $10,000. It was a bit of creative accounting.
“Not a problem. I’ll cover the additional tax on that,” I said smoothly.
“Great. We’ve got over 40 buildings in our complex, and we’ll be upgrading all the surveillance systems over the next couple of years. Let’s plan for a long-term partnership,” he said with a grin and handed me a deposit.
Just like that, we had our first sale, and in less than ten minutes, I had secured a deal with four times the profit over my costs.
I checked my inventory and realized we had just enough stock to cover the job.
I immediately contacted Mr. Carter to order another shipment and set out to hire installers for the job.
The installers quoted me $500 a day, and it would take six days to complete the three-unit building.
I thought that was too long and could hurt future business relationships, so I asked them to hire a second person and finish in three days.
One man for six days cost $3,000, and two men for three days would still be $3,000. It seemed like a good deal to me.
But the lead installer got defensive, insisting he could do it alone in three days, but it would require overtime—$1,000 a day.
I sensed something fishy, but since this was my first big job, I didn’t push back too hard. I just made it clear I only cared about the timeline, not the headcount.
Maybe it was the extra $10,000 on the invoice, but the client even had a truck sent from the property management office that night to pick up the equipment.
By the next morning, the installation had begun, and I made an excuse to visit the site to “supervise.”
I had always thought installing surveillance systems was a highly technical job.
But after watching for a while, I realized I had overestimated it.
As long as you understood basic wiring, could handle a screwdriver and drill, you could do it.
The installer I hired finished the wiring for one unit in just about two hours.
Replacing the cameras was even easier. He just removed the old one, connected the wires to the new one, and mounted it back on the bracket. It didn’t even take ten minutes per camera.
And that was him working slow because I was there. Otherwise, it would have been even quicker.
I took out my phone and snapped a bunch of pictures of the installation process to study later.
Since we were just starting out, I was focused on saving as much as possible. If I could learn to install the systems myself, I could save the $3,000 installation fee.
The first deal was a huge success. Low prices, great quality—it quickly attracted a customer base that cared about getting value for their money.
The business started growing, and fast.
There were large contracts, like installing surveillance for entire shopping malls, which required thousands of cameras and multiple systems, earning tens of thousands of dollars per job.
Then there were smaller jobs, like putting cameras in homes or small shops—just one or two cameras and a simple recording system, with profits of only a few hundred dollars.
But I treated all customers the same, regardless of the size of the order. Over time, the store’s reputation grew, and word-of-mouth brought in even more business. There were times when I was juggling four or five jobs at once.
During that period, I was unbelievably busy.
Jessica handled the store while I spent my days riding around on an electric bike with a toolbox, installing cameras for clients.
Some days, I worked from morning until noon the next day, only stopping for a quick sip of water, a bite of mac and cheese, or a cigarette to keep going.
I did all this to save on hiring workers.
I kept up this grueling pace for an entire year.
Eventually, I couldn’t handle it anymore. There was just too much work, and my body couldn’t keep up.
After discussing it with Jessica, we decided to start hiring workers for the installation jobs. At that point, the labor cost was negligible for us.
In fact, the discounts we gave to loyal customers were several times higher than the cost of hiring help.
In just one year, that tiny 86-square-foot store had netted over $400,000 in profits.
That was far more than Jessica’s parents ever made running their diner.
Of course, with money comes jealousy.
Our little store had caught the attention of many competitors in the business. After all, I had taken a lot of their customers.
But there was nothing they could do about it. I had Mr. Carter’s factory giving me rock-bottom prices, and that combination of quality and low cost was unbeatable.
Even if they didn’t like it, there wasn’t much they could do. We were all independent distributors, and I had all the proper paperwork. My business was legit.
Low prices? That was my choice. High quality? That was my responsibility to my customers.
So, all they could do was grumble behind my back. No one dared to smash my shop or throw paint on the windows.
When a business is booming, it means the money’s rolling in. And with that, Jessica’s parents, who hadn’t shown much interest in me for the past year, suddenly warmed up to me.
They sold their old house in the lower-income neighborhood and bought a new apartment.
Although it was on a mortgage, their diner business made it easy to cover the payments.
They threw a dinner party at their new place, with Jessica at my side, just to celebrate and praise me.
A few drinks in, her parents couldn’t stop singing my praises, saying how capable I was, how I’d turned a small surveillance equipment shop into a business that earned hundreds of thousands.
Once they were done complimenting me, they began lamenting how tough the restaurant business had become.
They said the diner wasn’t doing as well as before, and they had to let go of two employees to cut costs.
I could guess why their business was declining.
In history, there’s a saying about mediocre rulers: “Not enough vision to start a business, and not enough skill to maintain it.”
Jessica’s parents lacked both the boldness to expand and the ability to maintain what they had.
To be blunt, they were just too stingy.
They focused too much on immediate profit, still stuck in their old mentality from when they sold food to college students.
Though I hadn’t been to the diner in a year, I learned plenty from my conversations with Jessica.
For example, they started using low-quality, cheap ingredients. They scrapped the customer loyalty program. They even outsourced food preparation to another restaurant.
Running a diner is about service, and customer satisfaction is key.
If you sacrifice quality to save on costs, you lose your customers’ trust and loyalty.
As we talked, Jessica’s dad brought up something surprising.
He suggested they close the diner and go into business with me.
To show his sincerity, he offered to help pay for a larger store and cover the renovation costs.
But I didn’t agree.
Even if the diner’s business had slowed, it was still profitable—more so than most diners in the area.
Closing it down would be a waste.
Plus, they didn’t understand anything about security systems. They didn’t know how to sell them or how to install them, so what could they even contribute?
As for expanding to a larger store, that was unnecessary.
Our current store served as a showroom and sales space. It had nothing to do with size.
A bigger storefront didn’t guarantee more sales, and a smaller one didn’t mean fewer customers.
Success was about the person running the business.
Of course, I could guess their real motive—they wanted in on the profits.
“Dad, Mom, you don’t know anything about this industry, and you won’t be much help,” Jessica said, jumping in before I could figure out how to turn them down.
“Let Mark focus on growing the business. When we’ve made the big money, you two can just sit back and enjoy life.”
She really was the woman I loved. It was like she could read my mind.
I held Jessica’s hand, grateful, and silently vowed to make the business bigger and better.
“Mr. Monroe, Mrs. Monroe, Jessica and I have been together for several years now. I want to marry her,” I said, taking advantage of the warm moment.
“I promise I’ll treat her well, and I’ll care for you both like my own parents.”
“If you’re okay with it, I’ll arrange for my parents to meet with you soon so we can discuss the wedding.”
“I’ll follow whatever traditions or requests you have.”
I figured it was the perfect time to bring up marriage. After all, only through marriage would we truly become one family.
“No way!”
Before Jessica’s parents could respond, Jessica stood up abruptly, visibly agitated.
“Why?” Jessica, her parents, and I asked in unison.
It was clear that Jessica’s parents were pleased with the idea of having me as their son-in-law. I never expected that it would be Jessica who would say no.
“Mark, we’re both still young. There’s no need to rush into marriage—we should focus on our careers first. Besides, both your parents and mine are getting older, and neither of our families is doing that well financially. We need to work harder and make more money to support them in their retirement,” she explained, her tone softening.
“And when I marry you, I want it to be a grand wedding. I want the whole world to know that I’m the happiest bride alive,” she added with a smile. “Remember that dream I told you about? It hasn’t come true yet, and I’m still waiting for you.”
Realizing she had overreacted, Jessica quickly reached for my hand, her voice filled with affection.
Whatever shock or frustration I had felt moments before instantly faded.
Jessica was a young woman with her own hopes for romance and happiness. And I had told her that my parents were just regular retirees, so her concerns about our finances were understandable.
Marriage is a decision between two people. I couldn’t just think about myself—I had to respect her wishes too.
Our current security equipment business mainly served residential complexes and commercial buildings. If we wanted to take things to the next level, we needed to expand into other sectors, like government contracts.
Municipalities require massive amounts of surveillance equipment every year—for highways, parks, public squares…
Any non-profit public space that had visible security cameras? Those installations were funded by the city.
If our regular business was like selling vegetables, then landing a government contract would be like serving up prime rib.
Securing just one government deal would be worth three years of our regular profits.
But government contracts are usually tied up with pre-established suppliers. Why would they give me the job?
I remembered something a contractor told me when I was installing security systems in a shopping mall.
“Projects don’t come to you—you have to go after them.”
So, I started hustling. I visited every relevant office, built connections, and sought out anyone who could help.
I took people out to lunch, bought drinks, sang karaoke—whatever it took to build relationships.
During that time, Jessica and I would sometimes go four or five days without seeing each other.
As her boyfriend, I felt guilty for not spending more time with her. But Jessica was incredibly understanding. She never complained about my busy schedule. Instead, she encouraged me to prioritize my career. She said she admired ambitious men, and my hard work today would lay the foundation for our future together.
At that moment, I felt incredibly lucky. Jessica was so considerate.
To marry a woman like her? I’d have no regrets for the rest of my life.
Because our prices were low and our quality high, plus a few under-the-table deals that couldn’t be openly discussed, I managed to secure several large municipal contracts all at once.
It’s no exaggeration to say that the money from these contracts would be enough for Jessica and me to live comfortably for the rest of our lives.
But in the face of money, can human nature really resist temptation?
The first ones to get carried away were Jessica’s parents.
When they found out I had made millions in just a few months, they couldn’t sit still.
Despite my warnings, they sold off the family diner.
Then, they started putting ideas in Jessica’s head, telling her that young people shouldn’t hold onto too much money—it could make them lazy and indulgent.
They encouraged her to transfer part of our money into their names for “safe-keeping.”
Soon after, Jessica developed a taste for luxury goods.
Clothes, jewelry, handbags—it didn’t matter whether they suited her or not. If it was from a high-end brand, she had to have it.
While I was out running the business, she stopped showing up at the store altogether. She hired a sales assistant to manage it, spending her days shopping and getting beauty treatments with her so-called girlfriends.
She collected membership cards for spas, added a bunch of personal trainers and beauty consultants to her Instagram, and spent money like it was going out of style.
At this rate, the money I was making couldn’t keep up with her spending. The account was quickly running dry.
I realized I couldn’t stay stagnant. I had to keep growing the business, or my earnings wouldn’t be enough to sustain Jessica and her family’s extravagant lifestyle.
The next step? Start a company, build an empire, and make it bigger and better.
Up until now, we’d been running a small shop selling security equipment to homeowners and municipalities, but our market was limited to the city.
If I wanted to expand, I needed to start a company—grow the business to cover the entire state, region, or even the country.
But starting a company wasn’t easy.
Especially a business that was as specialized as ours. We’d need to nail down the right location, hire skilled staff, and plan out a proper business strategy. And the startup costs would be no small amount.
Looking at our bank account, we barely had enough left to rent a small office space.
Where was I supposed to get the rest of the money?
I regretted not reigning in Jessica’s spending earlier.
Asking my family for more money was out of the question.
The last two times, I’d convinced my parents to give me money under the guise of funding a startup. They had made it clear: the $500,000 was for me to try my hand at business. If I succeeded, I wouldn’t need to ask for more. If I failed, it would mean I wasn’t cut out for entrepreneurship, and I’d have to go back home to learn the family business.
Either way, they weren’t going to give me another cent.
Jessica’s parents had taken a significant chunk of our money when they convinced her to transfer it into their names.
If I could get that money back, we’d be set.
But knowing how stingy her parents were, there was no way they’d hand it over willingly.
After wrestling with it for a while, I decided to give it a shot, even though I wasn’t hopeful.
As expected, Jessica’s parents flatly refused.
They claimed they had invested the money in some financial products that couldn’t be liquidated anytime soon.
I didn’t believe a word of it.
Jessica’s parents were the stingiest people I’d ever met. They valued their money more than anything. If it weren’t for the fact that the bank was backed by the government and offered interest, they’d probably keep their cash stuffed in their pockets 24/7.
The idea that they’d risk their money on an investment? Impossible.
Left with no other option, I turned to Jessica.
After all, she was the one who had transferred the money to her parents without telling me in the first place.
At first, she didn’t want to get involved, knowing full well how difficult her parents could be.
But I laid out our current situation for her.
If we didn’t expand and push for growth, our little security store would only make enough to sustain her current lifestyle.
And with technology advancing at such a rapid pace, there was always the risk that we’d get left behind by the market.
The only way to solve these problems was to start a company.
I’ll admit, there was some fear-mongering in what I said, but I had no choice.
Jessica had changed. She was no longer the humble, hardworking, understanding girl I had met in college.
Now, she didn’t care if I was exhausted, or how the store was doing. All that mattered to her was how much more money was going into her account.
I’d even questioned whether it was worth staying in this relationship anymore.
But after all these years, it wasn’t something I could just throw away over a bit of dissatisfaction.
More importantly, I wasn’t ready to give up.
I had invested too much in this relationship, and I wasn’t about to walk away without a fight.
🌟 Continue the story here
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When I was a kid, a newlywed couple moved in next door. My parents were warm and welcoming, and after our families became close, Jennifer Thompson, the gentle and kind lady next door, would often bring me little snacks. Her sweet nature immediately made me like her.
As the years passed and I hit my teenage years, I began to grow curious about relationships. I spent a lot of time at their house and often saw Jennifer taking care of her baby. Her curvy figure naturally became the source of my daydreams, and she firmly planted herself in my mind.
But one time, while I was watching Jennifer feed her child, lost in thought, her husband caught me staring. He whispered something to her, and I saw her blush immediately.
After that, he made up an excuse to send me home. From that point on, I felt that Jennifer started to distance herself from me, and the closeness between our families slowly faded away.
This growing distance didn’t change how I felt. In fact, it only made me like her even more.
When I was nineteen, during my first summer break from college, their marriage hit the rocks, and one day they had a huge fight. I saw Jennifer run out, crying, and head for the rooftop of the Westwood Apartments. I was really worried she might do something drastic, so I followed her.
When I got to the rooftop, I found Jennifer huddled in a corner, sobbing uncontrollably, her whole body shaking. Seeing her like that broke my heart. I hated her husband at that moment—how could he not appreciate such an amazing woman?
I summoned all my courage and approached her. “Jennifer, don’t cry. That man isn’t worth your tears.”
She looked up, surprised to see me there.
Seeing her face covered in tears, I couldn’t bear it. I don’t know what came over me, but I blurted out, “Jennifer, don’t cry! He doesn’t deserve you!”
“What…?”
Jennifer looked at me in shock.
Gathering more courage, I dropped the formalities. “Jennifer, why don’t you just divorce him? When I graduate, I’ll marry you!”
She was stunned, looking at me in complete disbelief.
“What are you talking about?” she finally asked.
“I… I like you!” I said, my heart racing.
I had no idea where this boldness came from, but I’ll never forget the look of shock on her face.
“You’re just a kid. You don’t understand anything,” Jennifer said as she stood up, trying to leave.
But just as she passed by, I grabbed her hand.
“Let go!” she demanded, her face flushed with embarrassment as she tried to pull away. “What are you doing?”
“I…” I was so nervous I couldn’t think straight. I didn’t know why I was being so impulsive, but in that moment, I made a bold decision.
I pulled her into a hug and kissed her.
That kiss was my first, but it wasn’t sweet. Suddenly, Jennifer bit my lip.
“Ouch!”
I yelped in pain, immediately letting her go.
Before I could say anything else—
“You little jerk!”
Smack! Jennifer slapped me hard across the face and ran off, crying.
That slap snapped me back to reality. I was filled with regret, constantly replaying the scene in my head, asking myself, What the hell did I just do?
I was terrified she would tell my parents or, worse, her husband. I couldn’t go home that night. Instead, I spent the entire night on the rooftop, too scared to face anyone.
It wasn’t until late that night that my worried parents came looking for me. Jennifer came along with them.
“Luke, what’s gotten into you?” my mom asked, panicked.
“Luke, don’t scare us like this! Sure, you didn’t get into your dream college, but life is long…”
They assumed I was upset about not getting into the college I wanted and thought I was in a dark place. Their concern was touching, but all I could think about was Jennifer.
I glanced at her from the corner of my eye. When our gazes met, she quickly looked away and left without a word. But I knew—she hadn’t told anyone about what happened.
When I started college, I ended up dating a girl named Amy Summers. She was from the same city as me, and we went to school together. It didn’t take long for us to become a couple.
For a while, I thought I’d moved on from Jennifer.
But when I came home during the summer break, things next door had gotten worse. The fights between Jennifer and her husband were getting louder and more frequent. I could even hear the sounds of things breaking.
Suddenly, all the memories of Jennifer came flooding back. I realized I had never truly forgotten her, and every moment we shared was still etched in my mind.
At dinner, I casually asked, “What’s going on with Mr. and Mrs. Thompson? They seem to be fighting a lot lately.”
“The seven-year itch, maybe,” my dad said with a shrug.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” my mom chimed in, shaking her head. “It’s because he failed at his business.”
“Business?” I asked.
“Yeah, he and a friend tried to start an import/export company, but it went under. They lost everything and now owe tens of thousands.”
My mom added, “I even saw a realtor showing their house earlier today—they’re selling it to pay off the debt.”
Hearing this, I felt awful.
I wanted to help her.
That night, I reached out to a friend, and we found summer jobs. My parents were supportive, seeing me so motivated.
At the end of the month, I earned my first paycheck—$2,800.
Most people would probably use that money to treat themselves or buy something nice.
But I stood in front of their house, pacing at the stairs, clutching that money in my hands.
When her husband left the house, I knocked on the door.
Jennifer answered, looking exhausted. “What’s up?” she asked when she saw me standing there.
“I…”
I couldn’t help but think back to that night on the rooftop, and my face turned red. I handed her an envelope filled with cash. “Jennifer, I’m sorry for how I acted before. I was immature. I know your family is struggling financially right now. I earned this money working this summer—please, take it.”
I stuffed the money into her hands and bolted back to my house.
Little did I know that this simple gesture would change everything between us—and turn me into a man.
After giving Jennifer the money, I rushed home and tried to sleep early that night.
But I couldn’t.
The next morning, when my parents had left for work, the doorbell rang.
“Who is it?” I asked as I opened the door.
Jennifer stood there, looking at me with a soft smile.
“You silly boy,” she said, handing me back the envelope of money. “I appreciate your kindness, but you need to keep this.”
I tried to refuse, but she wouldn’t hear it. As we both tugged at the envelope, I accidentally brushed against her. My face flushed instantly.
She, too, stood there awkwardly, unsure of what to say.
“If you keep this up, I’ll get mad,” she finally said, trying to stay serious.
“I just really want to help you get through this,” I replied earnestly.
“You’re such a sweet boy. If only he were half as thoughtful as you…”
Her words trailed off, and I could see a deep sadness in her eyes.
Seeing her like that tugged at my heart.
For a moment, the air between us was still. Neither of us said anything.
Finally, I stammered, “Why don’t you come in and sit down for a while?”
“I can’t take the money, though,” she insisted, handing the envelope back.
I didn’t push it. Instead, I invited her inside.
She sat down on the couch, looking around. “It’s been a while since I’ve been in your house.”
“Yeah,” I agreed with a smile. “Can I get you something to drink? Tea? Coffee?”
“You have coffee?” she asked, surprised.
“I do. I picked up some while working at the grocery store. Let me make you a cup.”
“Thanks,” she said with a nod.
I went to the kitchen and brewed her some coffee. When I brought it back, she took the cup, but instead of drinking, she stared at it for a moment before placing it on the table.
“Time flies, doesn’t it? I remember when we first moved here, you were just a little kid. And now, you’re about to finish your second year of college,” she said softly.
“Yeah, I’ll be twenty soon,” I replied.
“Your birthday’s coming up, right?”
“Yep. My parents are throwing a small party for me next Sunday.”
Jennifer looked at me with her usual warmth. “Do you want anything special for your birthday? Maybe I can get you a gift.”
Hearing that, my heart skipped a beat. “I’d just like you to come to the party. I don’t really need a gift.”
“Are you sure?” Jennifer smiled gently. “You don’t want anything else?”
“Well…” I hesitated.
Given her financial situation, I didn’t want to burden her with getting me a present. But deep down, I still wanted something from her—it would mean more to me than any other gift.
Before I could figure out what to say, she stood up and said, “I’ve never seen your room before. Mind showing me around?”
“Sure,” I replied without thinking, leading her to my room.
“Sorry for the mess,” I said awkwardly, glancing around.
When I turned back to look at her, I was shocked.
Jennifer was leaning against the door—and she had locked it behind her.
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During my annual paid vacation, I was lounging in a private hot spring pool when a waiter brought me a small cake. I casually complimented him, “Your service is excellent. Do you offer this to all guests?”
The waiter informed me that the sweet treats were only provided to female guests or couples staying at the hotel.
The small fork in my hand slipped into the pool.
My husband, Gregory, always brought me a similar triangular cake every time he returned from a business trip.
My intuition told me he was having an affair, and that woman didn’t like sweets.
My name is Zoe, and I’m a jewelry sales department manager. I’m well-versed in business acumen and have been successful in my own investments in recent years.
My husband, Gregory, was my college classmate. He persistently pursued me for three years from freshman to junior year before I finally agreed to date him.
He studied art and wasn’t well-off in any aspect. Even his job as a sales consultant was one I helped him secure. But what I liked about him was that he was not only handsome but also gentle and loyal.
Now, however, I stared at the small cake in my hand, speechless for a long time.
He would bring back such a triangular cake after every business trip, claiming it was a gift from the hotel.
Since single male guests generally don’t receive such treatment, it’s highly likely that a woman was staying at the hotel with him.
I’m frugal by nature and usually take high-speed trains directly to clients when discussing business, returning home the same day because I care about my family. Even when I stay at hotels, I choose ordinary ones.
Gregory, on the other hand, uses the excuse of company reimbursement to stay at these luxurious homestays.
When I shared my suspicions with my best friend Rachel, she first expressed surprise, then analyzed the situation for me:
“That’s impossible, right? You two have been together since college, weathering storms for so many years, from school uniforms to wedding dresses. You should investigate thoroughly before jumping to conclusions.”
I frowned and nodded. To be honest, I was also questioning whether I was being overly paranoid and making wild guesses.
Regardless, I still needed to test Gregory.
My best friend runs a nail salon and is quite clever with words. While I’m well-versed in business circles, I’m not as adept at understanding human nature, so I asked for her advice.
Rachel pondered for a long time and sent me a message on SnapChat the next day with her plan.
“Didn’t you say he often goes on business trips? The person he’s cheating with could very well be his colleague. We could try to catch him in the underground parking lot after work.”
I agreed with her suggestion. Indeed, if they were staying at hotels together during business trips, it was likely a female colleague.
So, on the day Gregory was to finish work, I deliberately called him to inform him that I would be shopping with my best friend that evening and wouldn’t be visiting him at work.
“Alright, honey. I’ll go home and wait for you after work,” he replied.
His tone was as affectionate as ever, the gentle voice almost making me think I was being overly suspicious.
That evening, in the underground parking lot, my best friend and I sat in her car, waiting.
Soon enough, Gregory came out of exit 2 as usual and headed to his parking spot. A young woman was with him, and their behavior seemed intimate.
The woman, in particular, was clinging to his arm, pressing her ample bosom against him.
My lips quivered slightly as I clenched my fists. Sure enough, he was having an affair with a young female subordinate.
“Well, well. Has he forgotten that when he had no income at first, he ate and drank at your expense? Even this job was found by you. How dare he be unfaithful to you?” my best friend scoffed.
Indeed, Gregory came from a poor background, while I was from a well-off family. We were originally from two different social classes.
Our union naturally met with strong opposition from our parents.
Back then, to date him, I made a bet with my parents, swearing that I would definitely be happy.
But reality had slapped me hard in the face.
I gripped the steering wheel tightly, my fingers aching, as I continued to watch the scene before me.
However, unexpectedly, although the young girl kept pressing herself against him, he politely declined her advances and pushed her away as she was about to get into the car.
He said, “I’m sorry, but I’m a married man. Please maintain a proper social distance from me in the future.”
His voice wasn’t low. Especially in the empty underground parking lot, his words rang out clearly. Even I could hear them distinctly from inside the car.
The young woman seemed to angrily stamp her foot before turning and leaving without looking back.
My best friend breathed a sigh of relief and comforted me, saying, “See? He doesn’t seem to be cheating. That woman was probably just having a one-sided crush.”
A one-sided crush… I didn’t believe it. Such a fair-skinned, beautiful long-legged beauty was exactly the type Gregory liked.
When I returned home and was changing my shoes in the entryway, Gregory, who had come back early, gently hugged me from behind.
“Happy anniversary, darling,” he said, hanging a diamond necklace around my neck. I was a bit surprised, as I’ve always been more fond of diamonds due to my years in the jewelry business.
I shrugged off his hands, determined to confront him directly. So I said, “Who was that woman who almost got in the car with you?”
Gregory seemed quite surprised but still explained calmly, “Oh, you mean Fiona? She’s the boss’s mistress. Even if I were willing, the boss would kill me if he found out.”
Seeing my brow relax slightly, Gregory leaned in to embrace me and whispered in my ear, “In my heart, there’s only room for you, my dear wife.”
Everything had been explained perfectly, leaving me speechless and with nothing more to ask.
However, his embrace no longer held the familiar warmth I knew; it only made me feel a chilling coldness.
The sweet and normal scene before me seemed too perfect.
Was it really just me overthinking things?
My suspicions stemmed from my lack of confidence in our marriage.
As a career-oriented woman with a DINK (Double Income No Kids) mindset, I didn’t want children. This led to opposition from Gregory’s family when we got married.
My mother-in-law, Susan, came from China and had deep-rooted traditional beliefs about continuing the family line. Gregory was the only child in the Gu family, so naturally, they were unwilling to agree.
“It’s not like you can’t have children. What’s wrong with giving me a grandson to take care of?” she would say.
However, I stubbornly refused to change my mind. It seemed like this marriage was about to fall apart, teetering on the edge of collapse.
But at this point, Gregory surprisingly went to the hospital and had a vasectomy for my sake, standing up to his mother. This shocked and moved me deeply.
“Mom, look at the hospital results. I can’t have children now, so it doesn’t matter if I marry Zoe,” he told her.
His mother was so angry her lips trembled, and she was about to perform her high blood pressure fainting act right there.
In fact, I knew she didn’t actually have high blood pressure; it was always just an act to manipulate people.
But since what’s done was done, she couldn’t say much more and could only watch helplessly as we happily entered into marriage.
To date, we’ve been married for three years, adhering to our DINK lifestyle without children, living in our own little world.
However, I could sense that my mother-in-law extremely disliked me and was always sharp-tongued and nitpicky at home, constantly finding fault with me.
“A hen that doesn’t lay eggs, what use are you!” she would say.
Due to my guilt towards Gregory, I had always been patient and filial towards my in-laws, never showing any disrespect.
After a night’s sleep, I looked at my still-sleeping husband beside me in the morning and suddenly felt a pang of guilt.
He treated me so well, almost perfectly. What more could I ask for?
So when I got up to go to work, I was reinvigorated and felt refreshed.
Back at the company, I received news that the new set of jewelry up for bidding was actually a rare royal collection piece!
I was almost ecstatic. This was definitely going to be a big profit.
I had some spare savings and wanted to seize this opportunity to invest, so I decisively requested to buy one of the bracelets.
After negotiating the price with the company leaders, I bought one of the bracelets for $2.08 million.
Upon returning home, to express my filial piety, I gifted this bracelet to my mother-in-law, Susan. However, she merely frowned:
“Oh my, why give me this useless thing? It’s neither edible nor drinkable. You know, I’d only be happy if you gave me a chubby grandson!”
I pursed my lips, about to mention the price of the bracelet, but the words got stuck in my throat, and I eventually swallowed them.
At least I had shown my sincerity; it was up to her to appreciate it or not.
To celebrate the first S-grade jewelry set of the year, I spontaneously invited my best friend out for dinner.
This time, we went to a members-only restaurant with no menu; everything depended on the chef’s mood that day.
Rachel seemed a bit nervous, perhaps because it was her first time in such a place. When I poured her some wine, she quickly refused:
“I took some antibiotics earlier, so I can’t drink alcohol. I’ll just have some juice.”
I nodded understandingly. Before all the dishes were served, more guests arrived, all seemingly well-mannered upper-class individuals.
Rachel was visibly uncomfortable, mainly because her clothes were cheap market goods, making her feel out of place.
“Oh my, I feel so embarrassed in these clothes. Let me go to the restroom and put on some jewelry. I won’t feel comfortable eating otherwise.”
I nodded in agreement, watching her hurry off to the restroom with her bag. When she returned, she indeed had several pieces of jewelry on and had even carefully applied lipstick.
I teased her, “My lady, you don’t need to put on lipstick just for a meal—”
At that moment, as my gaze wandered, a jade bracelet on her wrist caught my attention.
It was clearly the bracelet from my jewelry set.
There were only two bracelets in that set: one bought by the boss, and one I bought and gave to my mother-in-law.
“That bracelet of yours… is nice,” I frowned.
Rachel casually waved her hand and said, “Oh, I can’t afford real jewelry. This was a gift from someone. It’s probably just a cheap imitation.”
There’s no such thing as a perfect piece of jewelry. When I was examining the bracelet earlier, I had noticed a flaw on the inside.
This was also the distinguishing feature between the bracelet I bought and the one the boss bought.
Seeing my expression suddenly turn serious, my best friend’s demeanor gradually became flustered.
Perhaps it was inexplicable guilt that made her act this way. Halfway through the meal, my best friend received a phone call and hurriedly said she had an urgent matter to attend to before leaving.
I maintained my composure and smiled, “Do you need me to give you a ride?”
Rachel waved her hand, “No need, Zoe. Someone’s coming to pick me up.”
Standing by the floor-to-ceiling windows on the high floor of the restaurant, I watched as she didn’t wait for anyone to pick her up as she had claimed, but quickly got into a taxi under the bright street lights.
I felt confused, vaguely sensing that an even bigger conspiracy was waiting for me, so I quietly followed her in my Porsche Cayenne.
Her destination was my company.
It was the same place where I had sold the jewelry a couple of days ago, and also Gregory’s workplace. He should be working overtime at this hour.
Rachel was very cautious. After arriving at the company building, she put on a black mask, looked around to make sure no one was watching, and then quickly entered the building.
I narrowed my eyes and quietly got out of the car to follow her into the company.
It was 9 PM, and the company corridors were pitch black. As I fumbled my way up, only one office had a dim light on – Gregory’s.
I held my breath and quietly approached.
Through the crack in the door, I witnessed a scene that almost made my eyes pop out of my head.
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“Dad! I… I’m over here!”
“Nicky, cover your nose and mouth, stop talking.”
By the time my son and I realized the building was on fire, the flames had already spread too far. All we could do was hide in our room.
My husband, Ethan Cole, was the one leading the rescue team today.
When Nicky and I saw him from upstairs, we thought our savior had arrived.
I had texted him the hotel address and our room number before we went on the trip.
But when Ethan made it to our floor, he passed right by our room and went straight to the next door—to rescue Allison and Lucas.
Nicky couldn’t hold it in anymore. Crying, he asked me:
“Mom, Ms. Allie is here too… and Dad only cares about them… Is he going to leave us again? Mom, I can’t… I can’t breathe… it’s too hard…”
The room was full of smoke. Nicky was only five years old, and he was starting to lose strength.
Frantically, I wet a towel and covered his mouth and nose, hugging him as I rushed to the door.
“Ethan! Nicky can’t hold on much longer, please save us!”
“Ethan, I’m begging you!”
Just this once, could he turn around and look at us?
Ethan passed right by our door again. I screamed at him, my voice raw and breaking, but he didn’t even stop.
Through the roaring flames, all I could hear was him speaking softly to Allison.
“Don’t worry, Allie. I’m here. You and Lucas are going to be okay.”
The smoke was choking me, clouding my thoughts. I tried to cover Nicky’s ears, but it was too late.
His eyes were filled with tears, and his pupils had already begun to fade.
“Why… why can’t Dad ever see me?”
“I… I yelled so… so loud…”
Cough cough “Mom… I’m sorry I can’t… stay with you any longer…”
“In my next life, Mom… please… give me a different Dad… okay?”
Nicky’s hand went limp as he finished speaking.
My mind went blank, a buzzing silence filled my head, leaving me with nothing but the sensation of nails being driven into my chest, the pain unbearable.
I struggled to my feet, clinging tightly to his little body, tears flooding my eyes uncontrollably.
“Okay, Mom will listen to you. Just don’t sleep, Nicky. Please, hold on a little longer. Mom’s going to get you out!”
Thick smoke was everywhere. I couldn’t even see Nicky’s face anymore.
The floor was scorching hot, and so was the door. Flames were eating away at my body, burning me and my son together.
How much pain must my baby be in?
I sobbed, trying desperately to put out the flames on his small body, but nothing worked.
The smoke was overwhelming, and the fire was too big. When I couldn’t walk any further, I crawled. But it felt like the hallway was endless.
In the end, it was the other firefighters who came and found us, pulling us out and taking us to the hospital.
Ethan brought Allison and her son to the room next to ours.
But just like at the fire, with a single wall between us, he never noticed Nicky and me. His whole world was consumed by Allison and her son.
The doctors wanted to take me away to treat my burns.
I refused. I knelt on the floor, begging them, over and over again, to save my son.
“He’s just really tired. He’s only sleeping. Please, save him!”
The doctors sighed as they took Nicky into the ER. The defibrillator shocked his little body again and again, but he never opened his eyes.
One of the doctors said, “The child suffered a lot in the fire. Don’t make him suffer any more in death.”
Yes… Nicky was always so afraid of pain. How could he bear this?
I was severely burned all over, so I called my brother, Daniel, to handle Nicky’s funeral and to start the process for my divorce from Ethan.
The divorce papers were ready the day I was injured, and I signed them immediately.
But I couldn’t reach Ethan. His phone was off—just like it was the day of the fire.
Then it hit me. He’d blocked me again.
Whenever he was with Allison and Lucas and didn’t want to deal with me, he would block my number.
When he was in a better mood, he’d unblock me.
I’d put up with this for six years, but at that moment, I suddenly felt an overwhelming sense of exhaustion and disgust.
Daniel went to the funeral home to arrange Nicky’s service, leaving just me and a nurse in my hospital room.
I asked the nurse to help me into my wheelchair. I needed to go see Ethan next door.
I couldn’t stand this ridiculous marriage for even one more second.
The room next door was a private room too.
I come from money, and with my monthly salary of $20,000, I never needed to rely on Ethan’s income.
With the little he makes as a firefighter, it’s a struggle just to support our family, let alone afford a private room for Allison and her son.
They’d barely been singed by the fire, with only some smoke stains on their faces and a few minor burns, but Ethan was doting on them like it was the end of the world.
I thought about Nicky’s charred, unrecognizable little body, and my chest tightened so painfully that I could hardly breathe.
It’s true, love makes all the difference.
“Ethan Cole!” I gritted my teeth, spitting out his name.
Ethan turned his head to look at me, the smile on his face vanishing instantly, his brow furrowing. “Rachel, who said you could come in here? Get out!”
I wore a hat and mask to cover my burns so I wouldn’t scare anyone.
But I was in a hospital gown, sitting in a wheelchair—anyone with half a brain could see I wasn’t in good shape.
Yet Ethan seemed blind to that.
All he cared about was that I might disturb Allison and her son’s recovery. He immediately got up to push me out of the room, not forgetting to scold me on the way.
“I’ve told you a thousand times, Allie and I are just friends. How many more times do I have to explain this? Her husband passed away years ago, and she doesn’t have any family to help. Can you stop being so petty and jealous every time?”
I’ve heard these lectures so many times that I’ve grown numb to them.
Allison didn’t have a husband, but she had Ethan.
I had a husband too, but it felt like I didn’t.
When the water pipes in our home burst and soaked through the downstairs ceiling, Ethan was at Allie’s house, changing her lightbulbs, telling me not to rely on him for every little thing. In the end, it was Derek Shaw who helped me.
When I got into a car accident, Ethan was with Allie, helping her pick out baby clothes, telling me to stop causing problems.
When Nicky had a high fever in the middle of the night and started seizing, Ethan stayed at Allie’s place, comforting her son Lucas, who had been scared by a horror movie, and told me not to make such a big deal.
These kinds of things happened over and over again.
Looking at Ethan now, standing there so righteously, I felt a wave of nausea. I didn’t even want to waste a word on him.
“You sign these divorce papers, and I’ll leave. You won’t have to worry about me bothering your happy little family anymore.”
I shoved the divorce papers toward him.
But Ethan thought I was just trying to cause a scene. He didn’t take the papers, just said irritably, “When Allie and Lucas are better, I’ll come home. Can you stop with this nonsense?”
He always promised me the same thing, but this time, I had no hope left: “If you don’t sign, I’ll have my lawyer take it to court. And by the way, Nicky’s funeral is in six days, you…”
Before I could finish, Allison groaned softly from inside the room, “Ethan, it hurts…”
“Don’t worry, I’m coming!” Ethan replied urgently, full of concern.
Without even asking about his own son’s funeral, he rushed back into the room.
I stared at the closed door, feeling like a thousand knives were stabbing me in the chest. I don’t even remember how I got back to my room—just the suffocating tightness in my lungs that wouldn’t let up.
Ethan didn’t ask a single thing about Nicky, not even up until the day of the funeral.
Even when the service was about to start, the father of the child still hadn’t shown up.
The guests started whispering to each other—
“Where is the father? Why isn’t he here yet?”
“I heard he’s at the hospital with some woman and her kid. That woman’s supposed to be his ex.”
“Still, how could he miss his own son’s funeral? That’s outrageous—this was his son!”
Everyone looked at me with pity in their eyes.
Some people, worried I might break down, came over to comfort me.
I thought of all the times Nicky had looked at his dad with hopeful eyes, always waiting for him to spend time with him. It felt like thorns were crawling up my throat, every breath laced with pain.
I clenched my fists, my nails digging into the blisters on my palms. The sharp pain was the only thing that helped me hold back the flood of anger.
This was Nicky’s final farewell to the world. I couldn’t let it be ruined.
I turned to my brother. “Dan, call Ethan. He’s blocked me again.”
Dan’s face darkened as he dialed Ethan’s number. He got through quickly.
“Ethan, today is Nicky’s funeral. You…”
“Rachel, when are you going to stop? Allie and her son are in the hospital with burns and infections, and I’m here taking care of them, doing what’s right. Can you stop being so bitter and seeing everything as dirty? Did you really think you could lie to me about Nicky’s death just to get my attention? Unbelievable.”
Ethan was angrier than I was. He hung up the phone right after saying that.
No wonder he hadn’t reacted at all when I told him Nicky had died… He thought I was making it up.
I’d been accused of being irrational and jealous so many times before, but this time, I was shaking with fury, too stunned to even speak.
Ethan had been shouting so loud that Dan, standing right next to me, had heard everything.
Dan grabbed the phone from me and sent Ethan a picture of Nicky’s death certificate, then called him again. Each word came out of his throat like a growl.
“Ethan, do you see it now? Nicky has been dead for a week. You haven’t shown your face once, and you have the nerve to call yourself his father? Are you even human?!”
Dan had already said everything that needed to be said. Anyone with half a brain would know that Nicky’s funeral wasn’t some sick joke.
I thought that once Ethan understood the truth, he would apologize, feel guilty, regretful.
But instead, he hung up the phone without a word. He didn’t show up—not even after the funeral ended.
I spent the entire service trying to hold myself together. I don’t remember who was there or what they said to me. Nothing registered.
All I could do was sit in my wheelchair, staring at Nicky’s gravestone with his smiling picture on it, haunted by the sound of his voice, echoing in my ears.
“Mom, it hurts so much!”
“Mom, didn’t Dad know which room we were staying in? Then how did he remember Ms. Allie and Lucas were in the room next door?”
“I yelled so loud, Mom… Why couldn’t Dad hear me? Mom, are we going to die?”
Those words played on repeat, over and over, like invisible threads wrapping tightly around me, trapping me in a nightmare I couldn’t wake up from.
After the funeral, Dan took me straight to the emergency room.
The burns on my body had become severely infected after spending so long outside. I had a high fever, and my mind was foggy, drifting in and out between reality and dreams.
All I could remember was someone holding my hand and saying, over and over, “Rachel, don’t fall asleep!”
When I finally stabilized and was moved to a regular room, ten days had already passed.
Ethan was sitting by my hospital bed, his eyes ringed with exhaustion, his face unshaven. He looked nothing like the man I once knew.
When he saw me wake up, his face lit up with relief.
“Rachel, you’re finally awake! I…”
As soon as I saw him, all the anger, the despair, the suffocating pain I’d been holding in exploded inside me, threatening to crush me.
Slap!
I sat up, gritting my teeth, and slapped Ethan hard across the face.
How dare he show his face here?!
His cheek swelled immediately, and his eyes filled with bitterness.
“I know I should have gone to Nicky’s funeral. That was my fault. If you’re angry, take it out on me, but don’t keep it bottled up—it’s bad for your health.”
Allison stepped forward, her face pale as she dropped to her knees in front of me.
With a single blink, tears began streaming down her face.
“I’m sorry, Rachel. If you need someone to blame, blame me. Lucas had a heart attack that day, and I was terrified. Ethan was just trying to take care of us, and that’s why he missed Nicky’s funeral.”
“This is all my fault. You can hit me if you want, just please don’t ruin your marriage because of me!”
Allison grabbed my hands and pressed them to her face.
She had pulled this act so many times before, and every time I never knew how to respond.
But this time—
Slap!
I slapped her across the face, and when that wasn’t enough, I slapped her again, harder.
“You’re disgusting! Truly disgusting! Out of all the men in the world, you had to go after one that was already taken? Does stealing someone else’s husband make you feel good about yourself?”
I was ready to hit her a third time when Ethan, face flushed with anger, grabbed my wrist.
“That’s enough! I’ve told you a thousand times, Allie and I are just friends! She’s a single mother with no one else to help her. Why do you have to turn this into something dirty?”
I yanked my hand out of his grip. I didn’t even have the energy to argue with him anymore. I just pointed toward the door, full of contempt.
“Get out.”
“Rachel, how can you treat Ethan like this? He’s only trying to…”
Allison still tried to play innocent.
I grabbed whatever I could reach and hurled it at them both.
“Get out! Both of you!”
Ethan looked at me with a complicated expression, but soon, he turned and shielded Allison as they left the room.
I used to feel heartbroken watching scenes like that. Now, I just felt numb.
I was raised in a wealthy family, while Ethan Cole came from humble beginnings as a firefighter. We should never have crossed paths.
But one night, my best friend, heartbroken from a breakup, dragged me out to a bar to drink.
The bar caught fire, and in my most desperate moment, Ethan found me and risked his life to save me.
He was handsome and had just saved my life. I became infatuated with him.
When I found out he was single, I pursued him relentlessly. It took a while, but he eventually agreed to date me, and soon after, he proposed.
Ethan was always a gentle man. He smiled at everyone and never let anyone or anything get under his skin. No matter how strange or chaotic the situation, he always remained calm.
When you first met him, you’d think he was an open book—easy to approach. But over time, I realized just how hard it was to truly connect with him.
After we got married, Ethan handed over his entire paycheck and took care of all the housework. Everyone said I’d married the perfect husband.
But to me, his kindness felt more like politeness. Even when we were intimate, it felt like he was just going through the motions—like a duty.
It was as if there was an invisible barrier between us.
I thought he was like that with everyone. That is, until Allison came back from overseas after her divorce, and for the first time, I saw Ethan lose control.
It was our wedding anniversary, but Ethan took the day off from work to spend it with Allison, and he didn’t even come home that night.
That’s when I found out Allison was his ex-girlfriend.
They’d started dating in middle school and were together for nearly ten years. They were deeply in love.
Their families disapproved, though, and in the end, they were forced to break up.
Ethan told me that Allison’s husband had passed away, and she was struggling to raise her child on her own. He was just trying to help her out, and he swore he’d never done anything to betray me.
I believed him.
And that’s why I lost so completely.
I forgot that betrayal isn’t always physical infidelity.
After Ethan left, he flooded me with messages—paragraphs of text, one after another.
I didn’t bother reading a single one. I blocked his number and his social media and called my brother, Dan, to have him fire Allison from the company.
At the time, I didn’t know she was Ethan’s ex. I’d heard she was a struggling single mom, and since she worked in media, I thought I was being generous by giving her a job at my company.
Looking back, I’m sure plenty of people must’ve had a good laugh at my expense.
The day after Allison got fired, Ethan came storming into the hospital.
He was furious, his brows knitted together. “Rachel, if you want to be mad at me, fine! I can handle that. But firing Allie just because I’ve been helping her? You’re letting your jealousy get the better of you. She still has to provide for her son—how could you do this to her?”
I stared at him coldly. “It’s my company. I can fire whoever I want. If you don’t like it, feel free to find your precious Allie a new job. I’m not stopping at firing her. Every penny you spent on her while we were still married—I want it back.”
Be considerate of Allison?
I was. And look where it got me.
She was one step away from sleeping in my bed with my husband!
Ethan’s face darkened. “Rachel, I’ve told you time and time again—I’ve done nothing to betray you. Allison is my ex, but I only see her as a friend now!”
“Friend, friend, friend…” I was so sick of hearing that word.
And sick of his self-righteous attitude.
I couldn’t hold it in any longer. “A friend more important than me and Nicky?!”
“Nicky’s funeral was ten days ago, Ethan. If you cared even a little about me and our son, you’d know that he died in room 1217—right next to Allison’s room!”
“Nicky screamed for you. He begged for his father while watching you break protocol, ignoring our room so you could save another woman and her child!”
“I’m not asking you to favor us over them. But you could’ve at least asked if there was anyone else in the room when you saved them. Or maybe not tell the other firefighters that the floor was clear! If you had, Nicky might still be alive!”
I was shouting, hysterical, pouring out all the anger and pain that had been festering inside me.
Ethan just stood there, the frustration on his face fading into something dull and lifeless.
His mouth opened, but no sound came out. His eyes were suddenly full of pain and fear.
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years. My hair was cut short, my skin tanned from years spent in the sun. After the fire, my voice had become raspy. To most people, I probably looked like a man.
After a long silence, I raised my hands toward him.
The bracelet he gave me when we were teenagers still clung to my wrist, now dull and tarnished with age, just like the memories we once shared—buried deep and covered in dust.
Adam hesitated before pulling out the handcuffs and locking them around my wrists. Without a word, he grabbed me and began walking. His long strides made me stumble as he dragged me to where his car was parked. He threw open the passenger door and tossed me inside like luggage, slamming the door shut behind me.
He got in the driver’s seat, started the car, and floored the gas pedal, kicking up a cloud of dust in our wake.
Confused, I looked around. “Why are you alone? Don’t cops always work in pairs?”
Adam’s face was tight with anger, the veins on his forehead bulging. He stayed silent for a long time before his voice, shaky, broke the quiet.
“Adele, why did you kill him?”
The mountains blurred past us, the light filtering through the trees casting shifting shadows across his face. I looked down at the bright metal of the handcuffs around my wrists, tears welling up.
“Adam, it wasn’t supposed to be like this between us.”
How did it come to this?
One wrong step, and everything just kept going wrong.
There was no turning back now.
I first met Adam in early April, during a cold and rainy day.
That evening, Grandfather Wright had invited a few officials from Southview High School and the local education department to dinner. It was late by the time we were done.
The streetlights were dim, and the air was chilly. The bus approached slowly through the mist. I folded up my umbrella and helped my elderly grandfather board the bus. The seats were full, and he couldn’t reach the handrails, so he held tightly onto me.
He had always been a proud man, valuing reputation above all else. But that night, he’d swallowed his pride, humbling himself before others at the dinner, just so I could have a better shot at getting into school.
The thought of it made my heart ache, and I felt tears prickling at my eyes.
“Don’t cry. Take my seat.”
A deep, raspy voice startled me. I looked up to see a thin young man in a black baseball cap. I couldn’t make out his eyes, but his nose and jawline were sharp and defined.
He stood up, offering his seat, and I quickly helped Grandfather Wright sit down. I turned to thank the young man, but he had already disappeared into the crowd.
About thirty minutes later, we arrived at the bus depot. The rain had picked up, transforming into a downpour. I held an umbrella in one hand and supported Grandfather with the other as we struggled through the wind and rain.
“Need a hand?”
The voice came again, and I looked up to see the same young man. He lifted the brim of his cap, revealing clear, kind eyes.
“The rain’s too heavy. If you don’t mind, I can carry him the rest of the way,” he offered.
It was him again.
Surprised by the sudden offer, I quickly nodded. “Thank you, that’s very kind.”
Without hesitation, he bent down and lifted Grandfather onto his back, his steps steady and calm. I held the umbrella as high as I could, tilting it to shield him from the rain.
We reached our apartment building not long after.
“Which floor do you live on?” he asked.
“Fifth… but it’s fine. I can help him from here,” I said, embarrassed.
Before I could finish my sentence, he was already climbing the stairs, still carrying Grandfather.
When we reached our door, Grandfather insisted he stay for tea until the rain stopped, but the young man politely declined.
“I just moved in too. I live on the fifth floor as well, so it’s no trouble at all,” he said.
His firm refusal left no room for argument, and Grandfather eventually gave up trying to make him stay. But we wanted to at least know where he lived.
“510,” he said after a moment’s hesitation.
It was the apartment at the end of the hall.
Later, I made some ginger tea and went to thank him. When I knocked, a middle-aged man opened the door.
“Who are you looking for?”
“Hello, sir. I’m looking for your son. He helped us earlier—”
Before I could finish, the man snapped, “Son? I live alone. Are you crazy?”
And with that, he slammed the door in my face.
I was stunned.
The mysterious young man never revealed where he really lived, leaving behind nothing but a good deed, vanishing into the rainy night like a stranger passing through.
In this vast world, we crossed paths for just a moment. And who knows if we would ever meet again.
A month later, I was admitted to Southview High School.
In class, I introduced myself, “Hi, my name is Adele Wright.”
The room immediately filled with snickers.
“Ha! Her accent’s so weird!”
“She sounds so country.”
The chatter grew louder. I glanced up and, in the crowd, I caught sight of a familiar face—Adam Collins.
My heart skipped a beat.
He crossed his arms, looking at me with indifference, as though he didn’t know me at all.
I sat down, slinging my backpack off my shoulder.
Growing up in a different part of the country, I had a thick accent, and I wasn’t strong in my basic knowledge. Every time I answered a question, the class would whisper and laugh behind my back.
During one break, a boy mimicked my accent, adding exaggerated gestures, twisting his mouth, crossing his eyes, and flailing his arms. He said I looked like a fool who had come to town for medical treatment.
The group erupted in laughter, thoroughly entertained—until a loud bang rang out. The boy toppled over, chair and all.
At the same time, a chalkboard eraser flew through the air and smacked him square on the head.
Adam stood nearby, hands in his pockets, looking down at the boy. He asked, “Is this fun for you?”
“Adam Collins, you—!” The boy was half a foot shorter than Adam and didn’t dare retaliate. He stood there seething, setting his chair back up.
When he saw the chalkboard eraser lying at his feet, he glared around the room, teeth clenched. “Who threw that at me?!”
“It was me.”
I stood up from the front of the class, meeting his gaze as I said, slowly and clearly, “From now on, every time you mock me, I’ll hit you.”
He was stunned, not expecting me to fight back. When he recovered, he sneered, “You? You think you can beat me?”
“I don’t have to win. But unless you kill me, I won’t stop.”
Adam turned his head toward me, surprised, studying me with a thoughtful expression.
The boy hesitated, unsure if fighting me would make him look weak, or if Adam’s presence was too intimidating. His face flushed with frustration, but in the end, he backed down and sat quietly.
After that, no one mocked my accent again.
That night, when I got home, I carefully wrote two words on my notebook: Adam Collins.
What a strange twist of fate.
Back then, I had no idea that this person, who seemed like a blessing in a hostile world, would become the reason I took steps down a path I could never return from.
At the end of the semester, my exam results weren’t great. I ranked somewhere in the lower middle.
In the hospital, Grandfather gently stroked my hair and smiled, “Pleasant Grove’s schools aren’t as good as Southview’s. You started late, so it’s a wonder you did as well as you did.”
His gaze grew distant as he spoke, lost in memory. With a long sigh, he said, “You were such a mischievous little girl. Climbing trees, crawling through fences, pulling on my beard when I napped, getting into trouble every other day! Your grandmother and I used to worry—wondering what you’d grow up to be. What man would ever want to marry you? But as you got older, you got softer, started caring about how you looked, even got shy when I scolded you. It hurt me so much to see you cry.”
He paused and smiled again. “I keep remembering when you first learned to walk. You were always laughing, though we never knew what was so funny. You’d wobble around with your little round belly, falling every other step… and now, here you are, a grown woman. It feels like just yesterday you were that tiny baby.”
His rough hand brushed my cheek as he squinted, trying to get a clearer look at me. His voice was raspy when he asked, “Adele, do you still blame your dad?”
A lump formed in my throat. Grandfather had been growing more confused lately, mixing up the present with the past.
He thought I was his daughter.
“I don’t blame him. Not at all,” I said, burying my face into his chest. “Dad, I’m so glad I’m back with you.”
That night, Grandfather passed away.
On the day of the funeral, the sky was overcast and misty, the kind of weather that makes it hard to tell if it’s dawn or dusk.
The cemetery was on a mountainside, with ancient trees looming in the fog. The path was muddy, and I led the way, carrying the urn, with my uncle and his family following behind.
My little cousin, too young to grasp the gravity of the situation, came up beside me and asked, “Hey, is Grandpa really inside that box?”
“Yeah.”
“How did such a big person fit into such a small box?”
My throat tightened, and I suddenly remembered Grandfather’s words: “You were just a tiny baby, and now you’re all grown up.”
My chest felt heavy, like it was stuffed with cotton, and even though it was hard to breathe, I couldn’t stop the sadness from rising up inside me.
My aunt hurried over and pulled my cousin away. “Don’t touch that! It’s bad luck!”
My uncle’s face darkened. “What are you saying? That’s my dad!”
“Well, you didn’t bother to show up when he was in the hospital. Now you act all loyal?” she snapped. “He should’ve been kept in the funeral home. But no, he insisted on being buried next to your mom, who’s been gone for so long she’s probably already been reincarnated! And here we are, spending all this money on a professor who clearly lost his mind in his old age. Oh, by the way, how much did we get in funeral donations?”
“I haven’t counted yet.”
“There was one envelope that felt thick. I bet it had a thousand bucks in it.”
“No way. Funeral donations are supposed to be an odd number. Maybe it was a thousand and one…”
I closed my eyes, trembling, clutching the urn tightly as a chill spread through my body.
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A Childhood Nightmare
I was the imposter heiress of the Scott family.
When the real heiress, Edna Scott, returned, everyone blamed me for stealing ten years of her life and forced me to atone for it.
They despised me, even cursed me to die.
Eventually, I did die, and everyone lost their minds.
The boy who used to love bullying me knelt at my grave, crying and begging me to wait for him—to marry him in the next life.
My parents and brother, who had always insulted me, also knelt there, crying, and apologizing for all the harm they’d done to me.
But it was too late.
I was dead.
My body was shattered from the accident, but even then, I still clutched the grocery bags in my hands. Inside them was the dinner I was supposed to cook for the family.
My spirit floated above the scene, numb, as I watched the driver panic and hurriedly load my body into the car.
I laughed bitterly to myself. Who would’ve thought that my eighteenth year would end in death?
I drifted aimlessly for a while. Then, without realizing it, I found myself floating back to the front of my house.
When I got home, Dad and Rick hadn’t returned from work yet. Edna and Mom were sitting in the living room, discussing the latest designer handbags. Each bag’s price was more than I could ever dream of spending.
After some time, Edna pouted and said, “Mom, I’m hungry. Why isn’t Sunny back yet?”
Mom glanced at the clock, her tone full of irritation. “Where the hell is that Sunny? It’s been forever, and she still hasn’t returned with the groceries!”
“Sweetheart, how about I take you out for dinner instead?” she offered.
But Edna stuck out her lower lip. “No, no, I want to eat the dinner my sister makes for me. Let’s pretend we’re supporting her effort.”
I knew she didn’t actually want to eat anything I cooked. She just didn’t want to miss another opportunity to humiliate me.
Mom shook her head with a smile full of affection. “You’re too kind-hearted. Even now, you’re trying to support her.”
Edna had always been like this—at school, she was a rebellious teen, but at home, she played the role of an innocent angel.
Another hour passed, and finally, there was some noise at the door.
Mom couldn’t hold back her anger anymore. “You worthless girl! Do you want to starve Edna to death by showing up this late?”
But the door opened to reveal Rick and Dad instead.
The moment I saw Rick, a lump formed in my throat.
He was the person I cared about most in this family, but it had been so long since he even looked at me.
“Dad! Rick!” Edna excitedly ran over to greet them, snuggling her head into their chests.
Dad patted her head affectionately. “Edna, you’re all grown up now, but you still love clinging to your old dad, huh? Once you get married, you’ll cry your eyes out.”
“Well, then I won’t get married! I’ll stay by your side forever.”
Her sweet words made Dad burst out laughing.
Rick tugged casually at his tie, every move effortlessly attractive.
He didn’t pay any attention to Edna, though, and frowned as he asked Mom, “Where’s Sunny?”
“You mean that fraud?” Mom couldn’t hide the disgust in her eyes. “I bet she’s up to no good. She can’t even manage a simple grocery trip, and she’s probably starving my Edna on purpose.”
Dad’s face darkened with anger. “I’m calling her right now to see what the hell is going on. Does she think she can get away with making my precious daughter hungry? She’s been out of that basement for too long.”
Even though I was dead, hearing those words made my soul tremble.
The basement was my nightmare.
Edna had been brought back into the family when I was ten.
I couldn’t accept that there was suddenly another girl in our house, or the abrupt change in my parents’ behavior. I threw tantrums and even demanded they send Edna away.
That night, I got slapped several times and was locked in the basement.
I Died, and No One Knew
The basement was cluttered with unused items, and the whole room reeked of mildew.
That night, I cried so much that I lost my voice. By the next day, I had developed a high fever.
My parents locked me in my room and ignored me. Just as I was about to lose consciousness, it was fifteen-year-old Rick who left a bottle of fever medicine and a glass of water on my bedside table.
He left without a word, but I grabbed onto that lifeline, somehow finding the strength to sit up and take the medicine.
After several days of suffering, I finally recovered.
Rick became the bright spot of my youth, my one source of hope.
If it weren’t for him, I probably would’ve died long ago.
But soon, Dad awkwardly realized that no one in the family had my contact information.
Neither Edna nor Mom had it, either.
In the end, Dad took Edna and Mom out to dinner, while Rick stayed behind, claiming work as an excuse.
Edna smiled brightly. “Rick, you better work hard so you can earn lots of money to take care of me in the future.”
For the first time in a while, Rick’s face softened into a smile. “Don’t worry. The Scott family business will always be your strongest support.”
Watching this, I was consumed with jealousy, but when Rick said he wouldn’t go to dinner with them, I got anxious.
“Hey, Rick! You have stomach problems—you can’t skip meals! When I was alive, I reminded you three times a day to eat and take your medicine. How have you still not formed the habit?”
Rick had severe stomach issues, and I often saw him in pain, his face pale.
I worried about his health constantly, even though I knew he was annoyed by me. Still, I pushed myself to send him reminders every day, even though he never once responded.
After they left, Rick retreated to his study to work late into the night.
I stayed by his side, watching him go through documents I didn’t understand.
A focused man is truly at his best, and in that moment, Rick exuded the charm of a successful man. I felt a swell of pride in my chest.
See? My brother is the most handsome man in the world.
Several hours later, I heard a noise downstairs. I floated out to check.
When I saw their empty hands, I knew they had forgotten to bring Rick anything to eat.
I started to panic. What would happen if his stomach problems flared up?
But then I stopped and laughed bitterly to myself.
I was dead. What could I possibly do, even if I worried myself to death?
I floated back to his side to watch him work.
Finally, at 1 a.m., Rick closed his laptop and stood up.
Suddenly, there was a noise outside his study window. Someone was throwing small stones at the glass.
Rick walked over to the window, his face cold. Curious, I peeked out too, and saw Dylan Brooks grinning like a troublemaker.
“Hey, Rick, why didn’t I see Sunny come home today?”
In the dead of night, his voice cut through the silence, too loud.
I had always hated Dylan. He constantly bullied me.
Whenever I went out to buy groceries, he would whistle at me. Even though he was the only son of the Brooks family, he spent his days doing nothing and was known around town as a spoiled brat.
Rick responded coldly, “If you keep disturbing my family, I’ll tell Mr. Brooks tomorrow.”
At the mention of his grandfather, Dylan’s cocky expression wavered. He muttered a few curses under his breath before leaving.
To my surprise, I felt a tiny bit of warmth. I couldn’t believe the first person to notice my absence was Dylan, the guy I hated most!
Rick closed the window, freshened up, and was about to head to bed. But as he passed the hallway, he made a sudden turn toward my bedroom door.
What was he up to?
Rick first cracked the door open slightly, but when he saw the room was empty, he pushed it open with force.
He turned on the light, and the entire room came into view.
A bed, a desk, and a wardrobe—this was my entire world.
Rick frowned even deeper, then closed the door and turned off the light. He went to sit on the living room sofa.
I suddenly felt nervous. Was he waiting for me?
But as soon as the thought crossed my mind, I dismissed it.
How could it be? Rick Scott, the busy and admired businessman, waiting for someone as insignificant as me?
He waited for a while, occasionally lifting his arm to check his watch.
Finally, he took out his phone, staring at the screen as if trying to make a decision.
Curious, I floated closer. It was our chat window.
He was the only person in the family who had my contact information.
The conversation was filled with messages sent only by me—reminding him to take his medication on time.
After hesitating for a moment, he dialed my number.
Of course, I could never answer it.
Annoyed, Rick lit a cigarette, but just then, his phone buzzed with a message.
“Don’t call me. I’m busy.”
I was shocked. The hit-and-run driver was using my phone to message Rick!
Rick smirked in anger, put out the cigarette, and immediately deleted my contact from his phone.
“Ungrateful, just like a stray dog. No wonder Mom and Dad always said she couldn’t be trusted,” he muttered before heading off to bed.
Hearing that felt like a dagger to my heart.
I couldn’t believe it. Even my favorite brother was talking behind my back like that.
The next morning, Rick came down for breakfast. As he ate, he casually asked, “Edna, why didn’t you make soup for me this morning? Are you not caring for your brother anymore?”
Edna’s eyes flashed with panic for a second, but she quickly regained her composure.
She put on a pitiful face and replied, “Oh, I’m sorry, Rick! I was so worried about Sunny last night that I couldn’t sleep. I completely forgot to make your soup today. You’re not mad at me, are you?”
Rick gave her a soft smile. “Of course not. You work hard every morning. You don’t need to make soup next time. If you tire yourself out, Mom and Dad will be mad at me.”
How shameless!
I couldn’t help but curse under my breath. Only now did I realize that Edna had taken credit for my efforts.
Rick had a sensitive stomach, so I would wake up early every day to make chicken soup for him.
I thought that even though I never said anything, he’d know it was me. After all, Edna was never the type to be diligent, yet she managed to steal all the credit.
As soon as they mentioned me, Edna continued, “I’m so worried about Sunny. You know how she’s always been a loner, with no friends and no money. Who knows where she stayed last night? What if some old man tricked her?”
Mom scoffed. “Why bother worrying about her? As long as she doesn’t come back pregnant, that’s all I care about.”
They joked about me like it was nothing, and Rick just sat there, emotionless, continuing to eat.
Then the news came on: “Today, an unidentified female body was found in the woods on the west side of town. The victim appears to be around 18 years old. No missing person report has been filed, and authorities are working to confirm her identity.”
Seeing the blurred-out body on the screen, I was overwhelmed with sorrow.
Sunny Scott, you really have the worst luck. The police already know you’re dead, but the family you lived with for eighteen years thinks you’re out messing around with some man.
Dad couldn’t help but sigh, “What a shame. Such a young life, gone just like that.”
Mom, however, looked more alarmed. “Edna, from now on, you need to have two bodyguards with you at all times when you go out. If something happened to you, how would I go on?”
Just then, there was a loud knock at the door.
“Is Mr. Scott home?” a voice called.
Dad frowned, clearly irritated. “What’s that troublemaker doing here? I’ve seen him hanging around outside for days. He better not have his eyes on my Edna.”
At Dad’s remark, Edna actually blushed. “Dad, don’t say that! Dylan Brooks probably has something important to talk about.”
I had known for a while that Edna liked Dylan.
As much as I disliked Dylan, I had to admit, his rebellious attitude and good looks made him popular with girls our age.
In the end, Dad let Dylan in.
Dylan scanned the living room and asked directly, “Mr. Scott, hasn’t Sunny come home yet?”
Edna visibly paled.
I couldn’t help but find his question odd, and I muttered, “Dylan, are you seriously here just to ask about me? Can’t you survive a day without bullying me?”
Edna forced a smile, her voice rising in false sweetness. “Sunny ran off with some guy last night, Dylan. I’m not sure why you’re looking for her.”
Rick, who had been quiet until now, suddenly snapped. “Edna, watch your mouth.”
Edna looked hurt. “Are you doubting me, Rick? I know Sunny better than anyone—we go to the same school.”
Mom jumped to Edna’s defense. “Edna wouldn’t lie about something like that. Besides, we’ve always treated Sunny well. We’ve given her food and shelter, and this is how she repays us—running off without a word.”
Treated me well?
I laughed bitterly. In their eyes, I probably did live in luxury.
Rick had stomach issues, so I always made chicken soup for him in the mornings and reminded him to take his meds.
Dad had such picky tastes that I’d spend hours researching recipes just to satisfy him.
Mom loved wearing designer clothes, and it was me who hand-washed all of them.
And Edna? At home, she was the innocent princess, but at school, she led the pack of bullies who tormented me daily.
Dylan exploded with anger. “You ugly little liar! I know exactly what kind of person Sunny is. You don’t get to slander her like that!”
Then he turned to address everyone in the room. “What’s wrong with you people? Sunny has lived with you for eighteen years! She didn’t come home last night, and instead of worrying, you make up filthy rumors about her? You don’t deserve to call yourselves her family!”
With that, he stormed out, leaving Dad fuming.
“I’ve spent decades in business, and now I’m being lectured by some kid? I’m calling Mr. Brooks to deal with this!” Dad yelled, slamming his chopsticks down.
My heart sank. Dylan was definitely going to get in trouble tonight.
Even though I didn’t like him, the thought of him being punished because of me didn’t sit well.
I followed Dylan back to his house.
The Brooks estate was the polar opposite of the Scott Manor.
The Brooks family’s home was all understated elegance, with every piece of art on the walls worth a fortune.
In comparison, our home, with its overly lavish decor, looked tacky—like a nouveau riche caricature.
Dylan entered his room, kicked a chair in frustration, and picked up his phone.
“Hey, Officer King, I heard you’ve been promoted recently. Can I ask a favor? I need you to find someone named Sunny Scott. She’s eighteen, and she went missing yesterday. She was last seen wearing a white shirt and blue jeans.”
I was stunned by how well Dylan remembered the details. If he used that memory in his career, Mr. Brooks would be overjoyed.
“No problem, Mr. Brooks,” Officer King said on the other end. “I’ll make sure to send a team out to look for her.” Then there was a pause before he added, “Wait a minute… a white shirt and blue jeans? Was she also wearing sneakers when she went missing?”
Dylan’s voice grew excited. “Yes! How did you know? Have you seen her? Where is she?”
Officer King hesitated. “Mr. Brooks, you’d better come down here in person.”
It was clear that Dylan realized what was going on.
He hung up immediately, jumped into his pink Lamborghini, and raced toward the police station.
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My name is Bryce Miller, and I just turned thirty. I consider myself a winner in life. I own a house and a car, I have a respectable job with a stable income, and a beautiful wife. Life is pretty perfect.
Oh, and when I say house and car, I mean top of the line.
But recently, I’ve been troubled.
My wife, Rebecca, is pregnant. She’s three months along.
Of course, that’s good news. I’ve never been against having kids. In fact, I’ve dreamed of having a child of my own, and I’m excited for the arrival of this new life.
But with Rebecca being pregnant, she can’t be intimate with me.
I’m a healthy man in my prime, and I still have needs. I can’t just take care of things myself every night, right?
I hold myself to high standards. I’ve always been a law-abiding man, and I’d never do something like hire an escort.
So, I turned to Chloe Morgan, my wife’s best friend.
Yep, exactly the kind of “turning” you’re thinking of.
Rebecca and I met in college and started working at Broadway Financial Group right after graduation. A year later, Chloe joined the company too.
Chloe didn’t go to our school, but she and Rebecca had known each other since college and hit it off well. They became inseparable. Chloe was over at our house all the time, practically like family.
She worked in my department, so we saw each other a lot.
One night, after working late, it was around eight in the evening, and it was winter. I offered to drive Chloe home.
When we got to her apartment building, she asked if I wanted to come up for a drink.
I knew exactly what she was suggesting.
And since I knew, I went along with it.
Upstairs, she changed into this lacy, see-through slip and brought me a drink. I took a sip and couldn’t stop staring at her.
One thing led to another, and sitting down for a drink turned into “doing something else”—the kind of “something” you can only do in bed.
When I got home, Rebecca was still waiting up for me. I felt a little guilty.
But soon enough, my head was filled with thoughts of Chloe’s amazing body, and that night, I dreamed about our time together. That’s when I realized why people cheat—man, it’s exciting.
Once there’s a first time, there’s a second. And a third.
Sometimes at her apartment, sometimes at a hotel like the Hilton Nashville Downtown. At first, I felt bad. But after a few times, I stopped feeling guilty.
I convinced myself that I was just a man with needs. It was only physical. I was still 100% in love with Rebecca, still dedicated to my family. I had no plans to leave her or start a new life with Chloe.
And Chloe? She was easygoing. Anytime I wanted to meet up, she’d come, always willing and able, no matter what.
We even texted each other all sorts of dirty messages when we had nothing better to do.
Honestly, Chloe was just trouble—a real-life temptress. How on earth did Rebecca end up with a friend like that? What did she do in a past life to deserve this?
By the end of the year, Rebecca’s belly was growing, and I was more attentive to her than ever.
On top of that, work was crazy busy. Year-end projects had me working day and night, so I didn’t have much time for Chloe.
After all, work and family come first. Sneaking around with a mistress is just a side hobby.
Chloe sent me a few messages, some of them with sexy photos—some of her wearing next to nothing. I just replied coolly, telling her I was too busy and we’d catch up later.
She even came to my office once, giving me those flirty looks, but I pretended not to notice.
In a company full of people, what could she say? There was no way she’d make a scene.
A few days later, I heard she’d found a new boyfriend, some rich guy. Eventually, she quit her job and moved down south with him.
I figured our affair had just fizzled out. As long as we both kept quiet, who would ever know we’d slept together?
To everyone else, it was just a fleeting dream.
A month passed, and New Year’s was coming.
One night, Rebecca and I were in bed. She was on her phone, chatting with someone.
Worried she might be getting too tired, I told her it was time to sleep. She nodded and then turned to me, “Honey, I need to ask you something. My best friend wants to stay with us for a while.”
“Which friend?”
“Chloe.”
“Who?”
“Chloe Morgan—you know, from your department. My best friend, the pretty one.”
Rebecca blinked at me, her expression a little odd.
She thought I’d forgotten who Chloe was.
I quickly steadied myself. “Of course, I remember. What’s up with her?”
Rebecca snorted, “She ran into a jerk. You know the type—those guys who hit it and quit it. Honey, don’t you think guys like that are disgusting? Married, but still out there looking for women. After they get what they want, they disappear. Now Chloe’s in a bad spot.”
“Yeah… that’s awful.”
What else could I say? I had to agree with her. I couldn’t exactly tell Rebecca, “Yep, your husband’s that kind of guy too.”
Rebecca kept going, “He took all her money and ditched her. Now she can’t even pay her rent. Honey, let her stay here for a while. I’m pregnant, and she could help take care of me.”
There was no way I could agree to that.
Sure, I was into thrills, but having my mistress live under the same roof as my wife? That wasn’t thrilling—that was suicidal.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea. If she needs a place to stay, I can help her find one—a hotel, maybe a short-term rental?”
Rebecca shook her head immediately, “No, that won’t work. She’s really fragile right now. She was crying the whole time when we met up yesterday. I’m worried she might do something drastic. Please, honey, let her stay. She won’t be any trouble, and she’ll really help take care of me. After all, we’re best friends.”
What could I say after that? I had no choice but to agree.
Rebecca handled human resources at work and was known for being tough. If she hadn’t gotten married and pregnant, she’d probably be in a higher position than me by now. Plus, her dad was friends with the company’s owner. I wasn’t about to argue with her.
I felt even guiltier toward Rebecca.
She had sacrificed so much for our family, and here I was, cheating with her best friend.
I silently promised that I’d make it up to her, that I’d treat her right from now on. Otherwise, may I be struck by lightning.
They say a man’s promises are empty lies. Turns out, that’s true. We don’t just lie to women—we lie to ourselves.
The next day, Chloe showed up.
She looked a lot worse than before—clearly, the breakup had taken a toll on her. The moment she saw Rebecca, they were inseparable, chatting away and leaving me completely out of the picture.
I found a moment to ask Rebecca, “She doesn’t seem that bad. I thought you said she was struggling?”
Rebecca hushed me, “Don’t be fooled. She’s putting on a brave face, but inside, she’s a wreck. Stop saying that. Oh, and you’re sleeping on the couch tonight.”
I wanted to say more, but Chloe was already calling Rebecca’s name.
Rebecca gave me a push and went over to her, tossing my bedding onto the couch on her way.
Rebecca was just too kind.
At dinner, Chloe’s foot nudged me under the table. I ignored her.
Then she slipped off her high heels and rubbed my leg with her stockinged foot.
I couldn’t take it. I got up and stopped eating.
Rebecca asked what was wrong, and I just said I was full.
After dinner, Rebecca scolded me privately, saying I was rude to Chloe and that I didn’t want her staying with us. I didn’t argue. I just wanted to sleep.
The two women kept talking in the bedroom, chatting until well past ten.
I’d had a long, stressful day. The moment my head hit the pillow on the couch, I was out.
Around one or two in the morning, I felt someone snuggling up next to me.
I opened my eyes to find Chloe lying beside me, wearing the same see-through slip she’d worn the night I first cheated on Rebecca.
“Bryce, you haven’t forgotten about me, have you?”
Then, she pounced on me, knowing exactly what to do.
I broke out in a cold sweat.
This was my home!
And Rebecca was just in the next room!
I remember the last time Chloe and I were at her place, we were also on the couch.
My mind told me to resist, but my body didn’t listen.
It wasn’t until we heard a noise from the bedroom that Chloe finally got up from the couch. She tossed her hair and said, “Rebecca’s awake. I should head back. We can pick this up next time.”
She gave me a mischievous smile, her eyes full of teasing.
I turned my head to avoid looking at her, but I couldn’t get her out of my mind. The dim light in the room cast shadows, and I saw myself slumped on the couch, looking as pathetic as ever.
It’s the same old story—once you do it the first time, the second time comes easily, and after the second, it just keeps happening.
And just like that, Chloe and I reignited our affair.
Sneaking around with my mistress under my wife’s nose—it was reckless, I knew that. But I couldn’t stop. There were times when Rebecca almost caught us. But Chloe was always quick to cover for me, helping me get away just in time.
I even used my connections to get Chloe back into the company. That way, we could see each other more, and naturally, seeing each other led to… well, you know.
Chloe would joke that Rebecca—my wife and her “best friend”—asked her to keep an eye on me to make sure I wasn’t cheating.
She would laugh as she said it, and in her mind, Rebecca was nothing more than a fool.
A couple of days later, Chloe told me she was feeling better and that she was ready to move out. Rebecca didn’t stop her. In fact, she asked me to help Chloe with the move. Chloe told Rebecca she was planning to find a boyfriend who would treat her well.
Rebecca asked, “How well?”
Chloe gave me a sly glance and said, “Oh, as well as your husband does.”
Rebecca just laughed, thinking Chloe was joking.
A few days before New Year’s, my parents came to stay with us. With Rebecca being pregnant, it was hard for her to do much, so they were there to help. Mostly, it was my mom doing the work. My dad, well, he did what he could—some household chores, running errands.
Dad was in great shape. He’d served in the military when he was younger, and even in his sixties, he was fit. He had more black hair than gray, and he took walks every morning and evening. It was that very habit that led to him stumbling upon me and Chloe.
It all started simply enough. Rebecca had invited Chloe over for dinner. She even asked if Chloe had any plans for the evening, like a date.
Chloe said she didn’t, but she had her eye on someone.
Rebecca kept pressing, asking if she knew him. Chloe dodged the question with a smile.
I drove Chloe home after dinner. We got to her apartment complex, and she told me to stop the car. I wasn’t sure what she was up to, but I pulled over anyway.
Without warning, she lunged into my lap, saying she wanted a little “affection” before heading inside. Before I could object, she was already making her move.
I’m the type of guy who can’t resist women—especially someone like Chloe, who’s clingy and seductive. I guess I’m one of those men they say think with their lower half.
After we’d had our fun and were tidying ourselves up, I was about to drive into the complex when I suddenly noticed someone standing at the entrance.
It was my dad.
I broke into a cold sweat.
Dad was strict—if he found out… it would be a disaster.
That night at dinner, Chloe had my mom laughing so hard she nearly cried. Dad joined in too, but every time I met his eyes, there was an icy look in them that made me nervous.
After dinner, Rebecca asked me to take Chloe home.
At her apartment building, she turned to me and asked, “Do you prefer boys or girls? You probably want a boy, right? Since you’re an only child, you need to carry on the family name.”
I didn’t respond.
Chloe continued, “Rebecca’s carrying a girl. Trust me.”
“I’d be happy with a girl,” I replied. “And if we want a boy, we can always have another.”
“Oh? But Rebecca said she doesn’t want more kids. She’s focused on her career. You’re lucky she’s having one for you.”
She leaned in close, whispering in my ear, “I’ll give you as many kids as you want.”
I glared at her and pointed to the door. “Get out.”
When I got home, it was late. I yawned and pushed open the door. My parents were in the living room. Before I could say anything, my dad slapped me hard across the face, nearly knocking me over.
“Dad, what the—”
“You know what this is about!”
And I did know. I dropped to my knees in front of him.
“Dad, I messed up. I lost my head for a moment. I swear, it’s over between us.”
My mom tugged at my dad’s sleeve, urging him to calm down.
Dad sighed heavily and spoke in a low voice, “You better remember what you just said. End it with that woman, or you’re going to destroy this family.”
I nodded hard, and in my mind, I told myself the same thing—I had to cut things off with Chloe for good.
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