Author: Momo Chan

My ex-boyfriend of four years showed up at the hotel where I work as a receptionist, with a woman in tow, asking for a room. The man had sharp features, with eyes as dark and deep as an abyss, exuding an air of aggression. He raised an eyebrow, his voice low and husky. “You have condoms in the rooms, right?” I smiled politely, my tone even. “I’m sorry, sir, but we don’t stock extra small sizes here.” Hidden behind the counter, I quietly slipped off my heels, feeling instant relief. After standing for most of the day, I only had ten more minutes before I could leave. Unfortunately, my moment of comfort was short-lived as guests entered the hotel lobby. I instinctively rose to my tiptoes, plastering on a smile. A tall, mature man in a dark shirt strode in. He had sharp features and cold eyes, with a suit jacket draped over his arm. As I watched him approach, I felt a sudden sense of déjà vu. Ethan Quinn, my college boyfriend of three years, whom I hadn’t seen since we broke up. Four years had passed, and the boyish charm was gone, replaced by a more mature demeanor. His once rebellious air had mellowed, making him appear even more sophisticated. He looked like quite the gentleman now. Beside Ethan was a woman with pale skin and a delicate frown that seemed designed to elicit sympathy. I couldn’t help but marvel at life’s unpredictability and the awkwardness of the situation. My ex-boyfriend was here to get a room with another woman, and I was still working the hotel front desk. Thankfully, there were three receptionists on duty. Please don’t look at me, please don’t look at me, please don’t… Just as I was fervently praying, Ethan’s gaze bypassed the other two receptionists and landed squarely on me. Damn it! His dark eyes, like deep whirlpools, bore into me with an intensity that felt even stronger than before. The Ethan I knew in college had been like a wolf cub, but now he resembled the alpha of a pack. He looked at me as if I were a shameless ex-wife who had run off with all his money, and he was the poor wronged husband here to catch me in the act. If I remember correctly, weren’t you the one who suggested we break up? Time seemed to stand still as Ethan’s gaze remained fixed on me. It wasn’t until the woman beside him noticed something was off and looked confused that Ethan finally shifted his gaze. He placed a card on the counter, his voice low. “One king room.” I maintained my professional smile and calmly processed their check-in. Ethan picked up his suit jacket and gently draped it over the woman’s shoulders, his movements smooth and practiced. I continued working, but found myself slightly distracted. In college, Ethan had been a germaphobe who disliked others touching his things. I had been the only one allowed free rein in his personal space. But that was four years ago. People change. Ethan used to hate wearing suits too. The only time he wore one was after I begged and cajoled him for an entire day. “Excuse me, could I see your ID please?” Ethan took out his ID and handed it over. As I took it, I instinctively ran my thumb over the back. There were faint scratches, and the photo was unchanged. It was still the same ID we had gotten together in college. I continued processing their check-in and handed over the key card. “Here you go, sir. Room 1087, the elevators are to your right. Enjoy your stay.” Ethan took the key card and passed it to the woman beside him, who headed towards the elevators. I silently willed this jerk to leave already, when Ethan raised an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth curving into a mischievous smile, his gaze intense. “There are condoms in the room, right?” Hearing this, I almost lost my composure. I thought four years would have matured him, but it seems he was still the same scoundrel underneath that polished exterior. What an insufferable jerk. I smiled politely, my tone even. “I’m sorry sir, but we don’t stock extra small sizes here.” Ethan’s brow furrowed slightly, but his smirk grew wider. Oh, did I hit a nerve? He leaned in closer, his voice low. “If there aren’t any, how am I supposed to enjoy my stay, Miss Shaw?” Who cares if you enjoy it or not? Ethan shifted, about to leave, but then turned back, his finger tapping lightly on the counter. “As I recall, Miss Shaw used to be quite fond of my extra small size.” I suddenly had the urge to slap that smug look off his face. But remembering my job and my bonus, I held back. “Sir, my shift is over.” Please leave me alone. I gave him a slight smile and retreated to the break room.

“What? You ran into Ethan Quinn yesterday?” I locked the door and made a sound of affirmation. “How was it? How was it?” I got into the elevator and pressed my floor, switching the phone to my other hand. “How was what? He brought a beautiful woman to get a room. What else could there be?” It’s been four years. Even the sweetest memories fade with time. Lucy was about to say something else when she was interrupted by a baby’s cry. “Oh, hold on, Bella woke up. I need to go comfort her.” I shook my head with a smile and hung up. It only took 30 minutes to get from my place to the hotel, but it took all morning to mentally prepare myself for work. After forcing smiles for several groups of guests, I found myself wanting to quit this front desk job for the umpteenth time. Just as I was about to get a drink of water, the front desk phone rang. I cursed under my breath as I picked up. “Hello, thank you for calling the front desk. How may I assist you?” There was no response on the other end, just the sound of breathing. But somehow, I knew who it was. After half a minute, the caller finally spoke: “It’s me.” I inwardly scoffed but stayed silent, waiting for him to continue. Come on, what’s your move, jerk? Is it a wedding invitation or a kid’s birthday party? After two breaths of silence, the man spoke again, his tone slightly teasing. “I have a question.” Oh? “Don’t you have any bigger beds at your hotel? The one last time was too narrow for me to… maneuver.” Hah. I forced a professional smile, my voice sickeningly sweet. “I’m sorry sir, but all our king rooms have standard-sized beds. However…” He seemed very close to the phone, his breathing clearly audible. “If you turn left when leaving our hotel and walk about 500 meters, there’s a love hotel with very large beds. I’ve tried them myself. You can roll over three times while hugging someone.” His previously steady breathing hitched. I maintained a benevolent expression and promptly hung up. As expected, the phone rang again within seconds. Seeing the familiar number, I didn’t answer. My coworker asked, “Jenna, why aren’t you picking up the phone?” I replied, “Ex.” She made an “oh” sound and gave me a knowing look. When the phone started ringing for the third time, I finally answered leisurely. “Hello?” The man’s low voice was laced with anger. “Jenna Shaw.” What are you mad about? You can book rooms but I can’t have fun? “Oh, I forgot to mention. Mr. Quinn, I highly recommend the Sweet Ocean theme. The waterbed plus the mirrored ceiling…” This time, he was the one who hung up. I raised an eyebrow and put down the receiver, feeling like the day’s fatigue had melted away.

Ethan and I met in the spring semester of our freshman year. I was participating in a club activity, wearing an American-style cheerleader outfit and dancing to a girl group song on the basketball court. Ethan was surrounded by a group of guys, passing by in a large crowd. He had just lit a cigarette and looked up, catching sight of me in the midst of the crowd. That look in his eyes was hotter than the midsummer sun, seeming to burn right through me. When I finished dancing and was leaving, Ethan took a few strides to block my path. “Ethan Quinn.” I glanced at him sideways while tying up my hair. “Let’s be friends.” In the sunlight, Ethan’s eyes were half-closed, but he looked like a wolf crouching in tall grass, his gaze intense and filled with undisguised desire. I casually looked him over and turned my attention away. “Your cigarette smoke is bothering me.” With that, I tried to leave. Ethan stubbed out his cigarette with his fingertip and said, “I’ll quit.” I suddenly found it amusing, both his shamelessness and his empty promises. Why should I care if you quit smoking or not? But perhaps it was Ethan’s persistence, or maybe I found his wolfish gaze intriguing. A month later, I became friends with him. The kind of friends who could kiss. And we kept kissing for three years. Until he suddenly said we should break up.

It was a rare weekend off, and I decided to go shopping at the mall, browsing everything from snacks to lingerie. Even if I wasn’t buying, window shopping was harmless. As I picked up a purple bra, someone stood beside me, bringing with them an unfamiliar but faint scent of men’s cologne. The presence, however, was frustratingly familiar. A hand with well-defined knuckles picked up the black version and placed it at the front of the rack. “Black looks better.” The tone was casual, completely shameless. There’s really something to that saying about exes being like ghosts that won’t leave you alone. Without turning around, I smiled and said, “I’ll pass. He prefers me in purple.” With that, I finally turned to admire his sullen face. Ethan’s features were deep-set, but his facial lines were hard, making him look a bit fierce. But I wasn’t intimidated by him at all. I gave him a quick glance and then went to the men’s section, picking up a pair of underwear and smiling as I beckoned him over. Ethan’s face was as dark as if he’d just committed murder, but he obediently walked over. I showed him the underwear and asked sweetly, “Is this your size?” Ethan raised an eyebrow slightly, the corner of his mouth curving upward. “What about it?” I smiled slyly. “Oh nothing. If this is your size, I’ll need to buy one size larger. My boyfriend is a bit bigger than you.” Seeing Ethan so agitated that he was about to lose his mature man composure and have a sudden attack, I left satisfied. And I put down the underwear I was holding. But when I was checking out, Ethan sidled up to me again. As expected. In college, he was always like this. Though back then he at least knew how to play hard to get and keep me guessing. Now that he’s older, he seems more impatient and can’t hold back. Ethan’s fingers were long and graceful. Back when we held hands, they could completely envelop mine. He took out a card and handed it to the cashier. “I’ll pay for what she wants.” I looked at him, suddenly finding it a bit amusing. The once impulsive and passionate boy had become a successful businessman. The contrast was quite stark. But my mischievous heart couldn’t resist. I turned to him with a smile. “Wow, Mr. Quinn, you’re so kind. In that case, could you also pay for my boyfriend’s underwear?” Ethan’s face, which had just relaxed a bit, darkened again. “In your dreams.”

To avoid being responsible for Ethan’s potential heart attack, I didn’t actually make him buy the underwear. I did let him pay for my two sets though, considering it compensation for his recent harassment. But I really didn’t expect to see this sucker at the gym the next day. Geez. It really is fate. I also suspected that Ethan might be stalking me. But since he wasn’t being too excessive and was even willingly spending money on me, I decided not to make a fuss about our past relationship. Ethan was wearing a black T-shirt, sweat beading on his forehead. As he tilted his head back to drink water, his Adam’s apple bobbed, his whole body exuding male pheromones. Four years later, he still liked wearing black. I swiped my card and walked in. Ethan wiped his forehead with his hand, sweat rolling down his straight nose, his profile sharp and resolute. He grabbed the hem of his shirt with one hand and pulled it off, revealing smooth muscle lines. His abs rose and fell with each breath. Ethan rested his elbow on a machine, using his T-shirt to wipe away sweat with his other hand. He had a tattoo in ink-wash style on his right shoulder. The bamboo leaves were subtle yet snake-like, cool enough to make anyone whistle at the sight. But faint, twisted scars could be seen beneath the tattoo. The tattoo wasn’t there when we broke up, and neither was the scar. Taking off your shirt at the gym was quite improper, but no one went to stop him. Occasionally, women’s gazes would land on him. Undeniably, Ethan’s handsome face and body were killer. In just a moment, some people had even taken out their phones. Was Ethan the type of man to take off his clothes for no reason? He wasn’t. I inwardly scoffed and headed to the changing room with my bag. Since college, I’ve always had the habit of working out, even after starting work. But I usually wore a full sports T-shirt. This time, I tied up my hair and came out wearing just a sports bra and tight leggings. My slender waist led down to a round, perky butt, and my chest wasn’t bad either. I’ve always known that my figure and looks were outstanding. Otherwise, Ethan wouldn’t have noticed me at first glance in college, and I wouldn’t have been hired as a hotel receptionist after just a 30-second interview. As soon as I came out, I felt gazes landing on me, one particularly scorching. I didn’t care at all and went straight to the squat machine to start doing squats. My long, straight legs stepped onto the machine, then slowly squatted down. The elastic pants stretched taut, perfectly showcasing my curves. When I squatted down, a bit of cleavage was also revealed. Before I could start my third rep, a T-shirt was thrown over my head. I took the shirt off and saw Ethan with tense muscles and an unhappy face. He gritted his teeth and said, “You win, Jenna Shaw.” The shirt was clean and smelled of fresh laundry detergent. I raised an eyebrow and put on the T-shirt without protest, no longer taunting him. He glanced at my legs. “Change your pants too.” I knew Ethan wasn’t some macho guy trying to control what I wear. Today, he was purely angry because I was deliberately showing off to provoke him. “This is the only pair I have.” I lied through my teeth without blushing or my heart racing. Ethan looked at me for a moment, then threw down a “wait here” before putting on his shirt and leaving. Hah, as if I’d really wait. I grabbed my bag and left, giving my perfect body a day off.

Early the next morning, I grudgingly went to work again. There was a company dinner tonight that the boss was hosting. Unfortunately, I couldn’t get out of it. The boss brought along an even sleazier-looking executive. The two of them sitting together was quite an unsightly scene. I sat to the side, quietly sipping my drink. The atmosphere was lively when suddenly I heard someone call my name. I looked up to see the boss beckoning me over. A bad feeling instinctively arose. I smiled, grabbed my purse, and sat down next to them. After toasting a glass of wine, the unfamiliar sleazy executive’s vile hand landed on my thigh, attempting to grope further inward. In my two years working at the hotel, I’d encountered this kind of thing many times, big and small. I was no longer the girl from a few years ago who would only know how to cry when scared. Just as I was considering whether to slap him directly or take out the pepper spray from my bag and spray this old creep to death, someone grabbed my arm and pulled me to my feet. In the dim light, the man’s brows were slightly furrowed, his expression dark and unclear, but his aura was inexplicably intimidating. Ethan picked up a glass of wine from the table and poured it over the man’s face. The boss, probably experiencing this kind of disrespect for the first time, looked angry and was about to pour it back. Ethan let out a cold laugh. “Try it.” “If you dare move, I can’t guarantee you’ll keep that hand.” After saying this, he took off his jacket and draped it over my shoulders. I pulled the jacket tighter, feeling a bit relieved in my heart, marveling that after four years of societal tempering, Ethan had finally learned not to stupidly smash a wine bottle on his own head. He also wouldn’t impulsively resort to violence, but rather use his intimidating presence to subdue people. Indeed, a mature man was steady and gave a sense of security. As I was thinking this, I allowed Ethan to lead me out of the restaurant and into his car. He sat silently in the car for three seconds, glanced at me, said “wait here,” and suddenly got out of the car. Before leaving, he even locked the car doors. After a while, I watched Ethan stride back, open the door, and get into the car. He unbuttoned his collar and loosened his tie, his face still showing traces of anger. But for some reason, I liked seeing him lose his composure like this. I smiled and asked, “What did you go do?” Ethan’s hand gripping the steering wheel had bulging veins. He looked straight ahead and said calmly, “Taught him a lesson.” I smiled, my eyes curving. “I thought after not seeing you for a few years, you’d matured.” Ethan flashed a wicked grin and casually threw out a lewd comment. “Well, there is a part of me that’s matured. Want to try it out?” Who’s afraid of who? Maybe it was the effect of the alcohol, but I suddenly had the urge to be naughty. “Sure.” I smiled wider, my hand crawling up his suit pants. “Let’s try it out.” “Let’s see… just how mature it’s become.” Looking at his ear tip, I gently blew a breath. Thinking back to a friend’s gathering in our sophomore year, Ethan and I went to a karaoke place to meet up. When we got to the main hall, I wanted bubble tea and insisted he go buy some for me nearby. Unexpectedly, after he left, I was dragged by a group of men to their private room. I was only nineteen at the time and didn’t even dare to call the police. Later, I couldn’t remember how Ethan found me. I only remember that those men were about to force alcohol down my throat. Ethan burst in and snatched away the wine glass, smashing it on the ground. Everyone in the room stood up at once.

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I was diagnosed with endometriosis, a gynecological condition. The doctor said it could be cured if I got pregnant, otherwise, I’d need a hysterectomy. But after my husband regained his sight, he no longer wanted to touch me, only kissing my forehead and making excuses about being too tired. I understood he was exhausted from working at the massage therapy clinic all day, but then I heard him mutter as he turned his back to me: “By the way, you should go to a beauty salon and ask about laser scar removal or something. See if there’s anything they can do.” I was stunned. A long-forgotten sense of shame made my face flush red and white, but more than that, I was shocked. Was Samuel… disgusted by my face? My name is Aria Greene, and I’m twenty-eight years old. My husband, Samuel Song, is a blind massage therapist three years younger than me. We met through a matchmaking service. I had been badly burned in a fire, leaving a winding red scar from my cheek to my neck. It was quite frightening to look at. Because of this, I had put off getting married. Through my parents’ friends, I was introduced to Samuel. “It’s perfect. You have scars on your face, and he’s blind, so he won’t care about that,” my parents’ friend whispered to me. Samuel didn’t know about the scars on my face, which is why he was quite satisfied with everything else about me after our matchmaking meeting. He was kind and honest, and he played the ukulele beautifully. I happened to have a lovely singing voice, like a nightingale, and we often sang together at the clinic. Our regular customers said we were a perfect match. Fate had closed one window for each of us, but by meeting each other, we filled each other’s gaps. In anyone’s eyes, we were a pitiful yet enviable couple, because in each other’s hearts, we were the best partners in the world. Samuel hadn’t been blind since birth. He lost his sight due to light pollution in a factory accident. Although we had sought medical help for years without success, I still took him to see various specialists, hoping for some improvement. After losing his sight, Samuel taught himself the art of blind massage, and I quit my job to become the manager of the massage therapy clinic to take care of him. “Aria, I love you. I wish I could see what you look like, but that’s impossible now,” he would say, looking at me with his sightless eyes and gently touching my face, his smile tinged with sadness. Since both his parents had passed away, I knew I was the only person he could rely on in this world. I held the hand on my cheek, silently vowing to cure my husband’s eyes. However, my best friend had once quietly warned me that Samuel’s face was trouble – he was too handsome, and if he regained his sight, it might not be a good thing. Although I had worried about this point, the thought disappeared instantly when I saw the hardships and discrimination my husband endured. The life of a blind person is incredibly difficult, something only a caregiver can truly understand. I just wanted him to be happy and comfortable. Lost in thought, I habitually picked up a piece of tuna eye and placed it near his lips: “It’s okay. Of course, it would be best if you could see, but isn’t our life pretty good as it is?” Samuel nodded obediently. He was very dependent on me and always listened to what I said. We had never fought. I don’t know if it was because of our constant search for medical treatment or if those fish eyes we ate actually worked. One day, he suddenly told me he could see. It started when he picked up a toothpaste tube that had fallen on the floor without any difficulty, and he suddenly realized. I was overjoyed and waved my hand in front of his eyes to test: “Honey, can you really see now?” At the time, I was cooking in the kitchen, and because I didn’t want to contaminate the food, I was wearing a mask. He kept rubbing his eyes, letting out excited screams. Then he asked me to take off my mask, saying he could finally see what I looked like. “Aria, you don’t know how much I’ve dreamed of seeing your face. Your voice is so sweet, you must be a real beauty, I…” I froze, my hand hesitating to remove the mask. It seemed I was more afraid of my husband seeing my face than I had imagined. My facial features were naturally beautiful, but after so many years, how could I still have the delicate beauty of my youth? Most importantly, there was the crisscrossing burn scar on the side of my face. Before I could gather my thoughts, he had already impatiently removed my mask. “Honey!” The horrific scar was exposed before his eyes, and the air instantly froze. My heart sank because I clearly saw disappointment in Samuel’s newly restored, clear eyes. Little did he know, I too had once been young and beautiful… I couldn’t dwell on the slightly hurt tears, as I smelled something burning. I quickly turned back to the stove, where the fish eyes I was frying had already burned. The charred fish eyes were very sticky, burning the bottom of the pan and looking extremely unappetizing. “Don’t bother with that anymore, honey. I don’t need to eat those things now,” he said, hugging me from behind and burying his face in the crook of my neck. “I still love you, don’t worry.” Tears fell uncontrollably from my eyes as I realized I had found a good man after all. At least he hadn’t lost his conscience. I also mustered up the courage to tell him honestly about my condition. Due to years of hard work, I had developed endometriosis. The doctor said it was a common gynecological disease that could be cured by getting pregnant. If not, surgery would be the only option. The success rate was about 80-90%, but the chance of getting pregnant afterward would be almost zero. Blushing, I said, “Before, because of your blindness, we always used protection and didn’t try for a child.” The implication was clear, hinting at my excitement and joy at the prospect of becoming a mother. Originally, I had prepared myself to remain childless for life in order to take care of Samuel wholeheartedly. He just gave a noncommittal “mm” and continued to smile, but his gaze lingered on the scar on my cheek, refusing to leave. In the days that followed, he treated me even more tenderly than before. Since his eyes had recovered, he could also help with some housework. Samuel had lost his sight in his teens, but now that he had recovered, he quickly reintegrated into normal life. However, I vaguely sensed that something was off. Everything started to feel strange after we served an old customer at the massage therapy clinic. Her name was Lily Andrews, about twenty-something, very fresh and pretty, especially with her voluptuous chest. She had mentioned during casual conversation that she had breast augmentation. “In our line of work, looks and figure are essential. Otherwise, we can’t even meet clients,” she would say with a coquettish laugh, not at all mindful of mentioning this in front of me with my disfigured face. She often came to the clinic for massages due to kidney deficiency and lower back problems. Today she came again, but unlike before, my husband could now see what she looked like. That night was my ovulation period. After turning off the lights, my hand skillfully caressed his body, trying to arouse his interest. “Honey…” But he no longer wanted to touch me, only kissing my forehead and making excuses about being too tired. I understood he was exhausted from working at the clinic all day, so I nodded in agreement. But then I heard him mutter as he turned his back to me: “By the way, you should go to a beauty salon and ask about laser scar removal or something. See if there’s anything they can do.” I was stunned. A long-forgotten sense of shame made my face flush red and white, but more than that, I was shocked. Was Samuel… disgusted by my face?

After Samuel regained his sight, he quickly reintegrated into his social circle, like a fish back in water. I, on the other hand, began to isolate myself, changing from outgoing and lively to increasingly quiet and withdrawn. Additionally, I spent a considerable amount of money on an artificial skin mask, which I glued over my scars every day with special adhesive. Although putting it on and taking it off irritated the wound, causing a burning pain, I didn’t regret it if it made my husband look at me more favorably. “Aria, you’re developing a people-pleasing personality. Do you think he’ll treat you better because of this?” my best friend said angrily, accusing me of not seeing things clearly. I’ve always been good-tempered, so I gently reassured her: “It’s okay. He just regained his sight, so it’s understandable if he’s a bit excited and forgetful. As long as I get pregnant soon, everything will be solved.” At that time, I still maintained the traditional, virtuous side of a stay-at-home wife, believing that a child could tether his growing wild ambitions. However, what happened next made me heartbroken repeatedly, and the love I had stubbornly defended crumbled again and again. Samuel didn’t go to the massage therapy clinic very often anymore because he felt it was unlucky to pretend to be blind now that he had regained his sight. At home, he was used to my all-around care. After being diligent for only three days, he went back to being a hands-off boss and became addicted to online gaming. I often advised him not to play on his phone for so long since his eyes had just recovered, but he would impatiently shout at me: “Mind your own business! I mean… honey, I’ve just regained my sight. I’m curious about all the beautiful things in the world. Don’t worry about me.” Curious about all the beautiful things in the world. Including beautiful women. I pressed my lips together. He thought I didn’t know, but every night he was scrolling through videos of flirtatious beauties on his phone. Every time I caught a glimpse of this, my heart bled. His wife was lying next to him, yet he showed no interest in me at all. It was nothing but his growing disgust for me. Before heading back to the clinic in the afternoon, I casually mentioned that our regular customers, Mr. Zhang and Lily, would be coming, so I needed to go oversee things. Then I changed my shoes and left. To my surprise, as soon as he heard those two regulars were coming, Samuel seemed energized and arrived at the clinic on his electric bike even earlier than me. Faced with my surprise, he scratched his head sheepishly and said, “Mr. Zhang used to always bring us fish he caught. I wanted to ask him about fishing techniques.” I nodded, saying nothing, and went to the back room to clean the cupping equipment and other tools. Samuel was indeed discussing his eyes with Mr. Zhang, thanking him for the years of bringing fish, and chatting about fishing techniques for quite a while. Mr. Zhang left in a hurry after receiving a call about some work, and I heard the bead curtain at the door being lifted twice. Then a sweet female voice came through: “Oh my, the rain is so heavy today. I forgot to bring an umbrella and got all wet. It’s so hot and stuffy.” It was our regular customer, Lily Andrews, the PR girl who was a VIP member of our clinic. Last time she came, Samuel had continued to pretend to be blind while massaging her. This time, he chose to maintain the charade again. I didn’t understand why he could be honest with Mr. Zhang about his sight but had to continue pretending to be blind with Lily. Lily entered with a radiant smile, and even from the back room, I could smell the strong scent of her perfume. At the moment, there were no other customers in the clinic. Following a woman’s sixth sense, I secretly observed them through the door crack. Lily was attractive in every way, with a beautiful face like a bamboo shoot and unknown marital status. Just looking at the designer brands she wore, like Gucci, it was clear she held a significant position. To say she could be interested in Samuel… I didn’t believe it, but it was possible that my husband might be unilaterally attracted to her beauty. I lowered my eyes, deciding to observe quietly. Just then, my best friend called, so I said to him: “Honey, I’m going out for a bit. I’ll be back soon. You can start Lily’s massage first.” The only other female employee at the clinic had taken a day off, so it was just him. When Samuel heard my voice, his expression remained calm, but his face, unlike usual, was visibly flushed. “Okay, honey.” As I left, I deliberately closed the door and pulled the blinds, leaving no room for his little schemes. What he didn’t know was that I had already followed my friend’s advice and installed hidden cameras in the clinic to prevent theft. The reason I hadn’t told Samuel was that he was blind before, so he didn’t need to know. Shortly after leaving, I quickly went to a nearby shaved ice shop, sat in a corner without saying a word, and opened the remote surveillance on my phone. The woman had slowly removed her black stockings, lifted her jacket to reveal a perfect waistline, and lay face down on the massage bed. My heart and breath were suspended. Then they started chatting and laughing. I noticed my husband wasn’t wearing gloves but was applying massage oil directly with his hands. Generally, for hygiene reasons, our employees always wear gloves during massages. The next moment, something even more shocking happened. He had been giving her a proper massage, eyes straight ahead, only his cheeks growing increasingly flushed. The woman lying on the bed seemed very comfortable, letting out coquettish “mmm” sounds. Then she suddenly asked: “It’s so hot. Why don’t you turn on the fan in your clinic?” In my mind, I was urging Samuel to turn on the fan for the customer. Although the clinic was small, we had two ceiling fans. However, my husband blatantly lied to her, saying, “The fan is broken.” Although it wasn’t the height of summer yet, the heat was still intense. Even sitting in the ice shop with a fan, I was sweating. Lily made an “oh” sound, seemingly unable to bear the stickiness all over her body, and couldn’t help but ask: “Can you see?” Samuel shook his head in confusion. “No, I can’t see anything at all, don’t worry.” “That’s good. I’m so hot I can’t stand it anymore.” And so, to my utter disbelief, Lily casually unbuttoned her shirt. Her perfect body was directly presented in front of this “blind” masseur.

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Emmanuel was an expert in giving me the silent treatment. Whenever he got even a little upset, he’d slam the door and disappear for ten days, sometimes two weeks. I had grown used to adjusting my emotions, smiling through the pain while taking care of Oliver. Until one day, I was helping him with his homework when I saw his wish. “Wish Mom would disappear. “The way she freaks out at Dad is terrifying.” That was the moment I woke up. Sunday nights were always the hardest. Oliver was dragging his feet, crying as he tried to finish the homework due the next day, while Emmanuel, drowning me out with his headphones, was fully immersed in his game. Nobody cared about me. Oliver cried harder after I scolded him, glaring at me with frustration, while Emmanuel pretended not to notice us, clearly annoyed. I stood at the dining table, gathering up the leftover scraps, silently convincing myself that everything was my fault. But inside, my heart ached. It was late. Emmanuel had retreated to his study to sleep, Oliver had cried himself to sleep with tear stains still on his face, and I stood in the bathroom, staring at my weary reflection. This marked the third month of Emmanuel’s silent treatment. Three long months. Long enough for me to forget why our cold war had even started. Living under the same roof, he hadn’t spoken a word to me, and I had stubbornly refused to back down. He was the one in the wrong. I wasn’t going to apologize. But I couldn’t sleep. I walked to Oliver’s room to tidy up his backpack. That’s when I saw it. In his notebook—his brand-new diary that I had bought him—his wish was written in small, childish handwriting. “I wish Mom would disappear.”

I rubbed my eyes, thinking I had made a mistake. I picked up the diary and walked into the living room. I read the words again. “I wish Mom would disappear. “She’s so scary when she freaks out at Dad. She made him leave.” I collapsed onto the couch, numb from the pain. For the first time, I understood what it felt like to be so hurt that you’re beyond feeling. The light in Emmanuel’s study clicked off as he strolled out, his face cheerful—until he saw me. Immediately, he reverted to his cold, distant self. Without saying a word, he grabbed the car keys off the coffee table. As he passed by me, I smelled the familiar scent of sandalwood. That was the cologne I had picked out for him back when we were dating in college. Back then, he was just a nerdy guy with black-framed glasses, a white T-shirt, and shorts—someone who had no idea how to dress. I’d gradually updated his style, choosing my favorite cologne for him. “Wear cologne when you’re meeting girls—it’ll make them like you more,” I’d teased him. He’d said he cherished anything I chose for him. And he’d worn it ever since. The familiar scent unlocked a flood of memories, and suddenly, all the beautiful moments from our past came rushing back. I thought about our ridiculous standoff, about our son, whom I loved more than anything. The pain my son had caused me was overwhelming, and I desperately needed something to hold onto. Once again, I caved in and swallowed my pride with Emmanuel. I couldn’t stop myself from standing up and grabbing his arm. “Emmanuel, let’s talk.” I cried silently behind him. He shook my hand off. That’s when I noticed the call still active on his phone. It was late. Who was he talking to? And why had he put on cologne before going to meet them? “Emmanuel, are you on your way? I’m waiting downstairs. I’ve been craving BBQ for ages!” A girl’s playful voice came through the phone. That soft, sweet voice reminded me why we were fighting in the first place. I spun around to leave, but Emmanuel grabbed me back. He raised an eyebrow, smirking. “Beg me, and I’ll stay with you and Oliver.” Emmanuel always loved seeing me bend, watching me beg for his forgiveness—especially now, with another woman vying for his attention. It felt like he was offering his presence as some sort of royal gift.

I let out a bitter laugh. “Beg you? Was I the only one responsible for having this child? Isn’t he your son too? “Is raising him my responsibility alone? Don’t you share it? “Do you even know how messed up Oliver’s mind is right now?” Emmanuel’s expression shifted. He pursed his lips, looking at me like I was some kind of crazy woman. Then he grabbed his coat and stormed out, slamming the door behind him. Oliver’s diary—his wish for me to disappear—was still lying on the couch. Emmanuel hadn’t even bothered to turn off the light in the study as he left. This was his pattern. Whenever a problem needed to be addressed, he’d either throw a single careless comment to light my fuse, enjoying the sight of me going crazy, or he’d storm out without a second thought. The slamming door woke Oliver. He padded barefoot out of his room, staring at the direction his father had left. He walked over to me and picked up the diary I had thrown on the couch. Unbothered by the fact that I had seen its contents, he frowned and chastised me. “Mom, why’d you make Dad mad again?” I didn’t respond. I heard the engine start up downstairs. The car revved a few times, then drove off into the night. Guess I’ll be biking Oliver to school again tomorrow. I looked at the diary still clutched in Oliver’s hand. And at his eyes, which looked so much like his father’s. For the first time, I realized just how deeply I was trapped.

I dragged myself to bed. As soon as I closed my eyes, the words “Mom disappear” flashed across my mind. To be honest, I had never truly lost control in front of Oliver. In fact, I had done everything possible to avoid conflict, going as far as humiliating myself to keep Emmanuel happy. I’d begged him to come home, begged him to hold his own son. But I couldn’t sleep. The phone on my nightstand lit up. It was a message from Serena Cortez, my neighbor. “I heard Emmanuel storm out again. Did you guys fight? Are you okay?” I had met Serena through selling DIY projects on Craigslist. At the time, Emmanuel had cut off my allowance to force me to apologize during one of his silent treatments. Desperate for money, I had taken up whatever odd jobs I could find. That’s how we discovered we were neighbors. She had even bought some of my crafts, supporting my little side business and checking in on me. I heard Oliver’s door close behind me, so I replied: “Thanks, Serena. I’m okay.” The next morning, I woke up feeling drained, my eyes puffy and swollen. Emmanuel came home, the scent of sandalwood now mixed with alcohol. He glanced at me, his eyes barely resting on my face before turning away. This time, he wasn’t silent. He frowned, heading to the bathroom, muttering under his breath. “Don’t know who you’re trying to scare, looking like that.” I knew he was waiting for me to react, to lose it and scream so he could leave again. But I was too tired. I stayed quiet. He looked at me, surprised. Something flickered in his eyes. Then he walked into Oliver’s room with a cheerful tone. “Come on, buddy. Daddy’s taking you to school today.” Two completely different attitudes, like two different people. They left the house hand in hand, laughing and talking. No one spared me a second glance. Like two knives piercing straight into my heart.

I was throwing out the trash when I ran into Serena. She didn’t give me a choice and pulled me into her apartment. With a tender touch, she rolled an egg over my swollen eyes, her gaze soft and filled with concern. “Does it hurt?” Her care reminded me of Emmanuel when we had first gotten married. Back then, we had nothing. In a place as expensive as Savannah, Georgia, we could only afford to live in a run-down basement apartment. We shared a tiny bed, and the bathroom and kitchen were communal. The distance from the kitchen to our room felt like miles. One day, I bumped into someone while rushing back with a hot dish. I instinctively turned the tray toward myself, burning a large patch of skin on my hand. When Emmanuel got home from work, I had put on gloves to hide the burn, not wanting him to worry. But he noticed right away, and I quickly tried to laugh it off, saying it didn’t hurt. Emmanuel fussed over me, tears falling from his eyes as he applied ointment. He cried so much, like the tears would never stop. I remember laughing at him. “How can such a big guy cry so much?” He wiped his tears and said, “Vivian, I swear I’ll give you the best life anyone’s ever had!” That night, he held me and made promises until the early hours. “Vivian, I’ll never let you get hurt again.” Even now, I believe he truly loved me back then. But when did he change? Now, we’re like two ticking time bombs, tied together, ready to explode at any moment. But Emmanuel is a dud. He never makes a sound. He’s just this creeping smoke, filling every corner of the air. Suffocating me. Making me scream until I’m hoarse. When I got home, they were already gone. The kitchen was cold, and Oliver’s wet clothes were left on the bathroom floor. Dirty footprints marked the living room carpet. I sat on the couch and opened my laptop. I started drafting the divorce papers. My education was just as good as Emmanuel’s. Before I became a stay-at-home mom, I graduated from a top university, passed the bar certification, and worked as a licensed attorney for two years. I had once earned over $7,000 a month, representing clients in court and shining in my career. But then, I got pregnant. Emmanuel convinced me to quit my job to take care of Oliver. At first, he said: “Once you’ve recovered and Oliver gets a little older, we’ll hire a full-time nanny. You can go back to work then.” Later, he changed his tune: “Oliver’s so used to you now, and my career’s taking off. If you go back to work, we’ll have to hire a nanny. Her salary will be more than you’d make—it wouldn’t be worth it for us. “Let’s wait until Oliver is older.” Oliver clung to me, babbling “Mommy” in his baby voice. I caved. I should’ve held my ground. Looking back, I realize that’s when Emmanuel’s silent treatment started, little by little.

By the time I finished drafting the divorce papers, it was late afternoon. Emmanuel still hadn’t brought Oliver home. I instinctively started worrying about Oliver’s homework, but I snapped myself out of it with a harsh slap to my own face. “As a mom, you’ve got to be tough. Like his dad.” Then, I got a call from Emmanuel. Except it wasn’t him on the line—it was that girl from the other night. “Vivian, hey, it’s Lena. Emmanuel’s had too much to drink, and he can’t get home on his own. Can you come pick him up?” “You take him,” I said, “Aren’t you two close?” I glanced at the divorce papers on the table and changed my mind. “Actually, never mind. I’ll come.” Hanging up, I rushed to The Rustic Oak as fast as I could. The private lounge was filled with a mix of men and women I didn’t recognize, except for Lena, the girl who had called me. The rest were strangers. But they all stared at me, their eyes full of judgment. It was like they were blaming me for not being a proper housewife. Emmanuel sat at the head of the table, his face flushed red, still raising an empty glass as if to drink. Oliver sat right next to him. Oliver’s backpack had been carelessly tossed on the ground. A scantily dressed woman held him in her lap, chatting with him like it was no big deal. So this is how he took care of our son. No wonder a few outings with him could undo all my years of effort. I hadn’t even stepped into the room when Oliver shrieked. “Dad, I’m not going home with Mom! She’ll make me do homework!” He ran around the room as if he’d seen a ghost. Emmanuel finally pretended to wake up. “Don’t worry, buddy. Dad’s here.” Then the others chimed in, trying to “reason” with me. “Vivian, don’t be mad at Emmanuel. He’s been hiding out at my place for two months because of you.” “Same here. He’s been at my place for nearly a month. My wife’s starting to get fed up.” Even the girl sitting next to him spoke up. “Vivian, he talks about you and Oliver all the time. He really cares about you guys.” It dawned on me that this call wasn’t about me picking up Emmanuel. They wanted me to break down, cry, and beg him to come home. I laughed bitterly. “He’s full of excuses. What, he can’t walk home on his own? His legs don’t work anymore? “I’ve been raising our son by myself—does that not count as suffering? But one argument, and he walks out the door like he’s the one in pain. “If being ‘free’ is so hard, why don’t we switch places? Emmanuel, stop pretending you’re drunk. “What you’ve done—you want me to talk about it privately, or should we air it out here?” The girl clinging to his side turned pale instantly. “It’s all a misunderstanding.” A misunderstanding? You almost crossed the line in a drunken fling, and when I confronted you, you couldn’t even answer me. So you started this cold war. Emmanuel’s face hardened. He didn’t say another word. His expression darkened as he looked at Oliver. Oliver, defeated, trudged toward me, still glancing back at his dad, hoping Emmanuel would call him back. So he could continue playing, avoiding his studies. This was Emmanuel’s way of telling me to leave—to take Oliver and go—so he could keep enjoying his night. Why should I always be the one to leave? I had had enough. I stood my ground, pulling the divorce papers from my bag.

“Emmanuel, I want a divorce.” The lounge went silent. Emmanuel finally looked up at me. His eyes were surprisingly clear. Seven years of marriage, and no matter how bad things got, I had never once mentioned divorce. Emmanuel knew my personality—once I made up my mind, there was no going back. He hurried off the leather sofa and rushed over to me. “You’re serious?” For the first time in a while, he looked me in the eye and spoke to me like a normal person. He glanced down at Oliver, then let out a bitter laugh. “Vivian, if we divorce, you won’t get custody of Oliver. He’ll stay with me. “Don’t be ridiculous.” He was certain I would fight for Oliver. He wasn’t blind—he knew exactly how much I had endured for our son, how much I had sacrificed. Oliver clung to his dad, glaring at me like he was terrified I might take him away. “I don’t want you, Mom. I want Dad.” The girl from the lounge sauntered over, giving me a smug smile. “Vivian, you’re at that age, with no job and no home. You won’t win custody of him. “Just take him home. No fight between a married couple lasts forever.” I clenched my teeth, gripping the divorce papers tightly. I had known this would happen. But seeing everyone’s disdain for me, their lack of support, made me falter for a moment. But I couldn’t afford to be weak. I pinched myself hard. Reminding myself that as a woman, I had to be strong. No more tears. Tears were only magic to someone who loved you. To someone who didn’t, they were just a joke. “Emmanuel, don’t worry. “I don’t want the house. I don’t even want Oliver. Let’s divorce.”

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Here’s the translated and localized version of the passages, incorporating the confirmed character names and other details: On the first day of work, intern Luna Chase added her mom to the group chat. “We’re working,” her mom said. “Luna can’t even use the bathroom, so take good care of her.” “We’re getting takeout,” her mom said. “Luna can’t eat that junk. Aren’t you cooking? Why not make her a meal too?” “We’re working overtime,” her mom said. “Luna has a weak constitution; don’t let her do any heavy lifting.” Finally, after three grueling months of my probation period, I thought I was free. Just when I thought I was liberated, Luna and her family showed up outside the company, holding banners and surrounded by the media. They accused me of exploiting employees and claimed I had a bias against women. They even said I intentionally gave Luna black coffee to cause her to miscarry. In an instant, I was nailed to the cross of workplace bullying. To salvage its reputation, the company fired me. I ended up losing everything, having to pay her $1.3 million in emotional damages. I was chased and harassed online, fleeing to the streets in a panic. Cars whizzed by, and after a deafening crash, all that remained was a pool of blood on the pavement. When I woke up again, I found myself back on the day Luna started her job.

“Come on, everyone! I’d like to introduce our new colleague.” “This is Luna Chase, our new intern. This is Sabrina Quinn, the Marketing Manager; she’ll guide you for now.” The HR rep led the new employee into the office. When I saw Luna timidly standing at the door, my blood ran cold, and I felt like I was about to explode! Luna Chase! The killer who had caused my tragic death on the streets. I struggled to suppress my excitement and slowly composed myself. At that moment, I realized— I had been reborn! Time had reset to the day Luna started her job. I forced a smile to make my expression seem natural. “Luna, I’m Sabrina; you can sit next to me for better communication.” Luna looked nervous, her voice trembling slightly. “Y-yes, thank you, Ms. Quinn.” Watching Luna unpack her things, I found it hard to focus on work. “Ms. Quinn, could you add me to our department’s work group?” Her words jolted me back to reality. In my previous life, on her first day, I had added her to the marketing team group, which didn’t include the CEO or the Marketing Director. Because I said there were no outsiders in the group, she immediately added her mom. That was the moment I fell into a tragic path. The marketing department had two groups: one was the Marketing Work Group, which included the CEO, the director, and some leaders from other departments, although they rarely chimed in. The other was Marketing Hub, which only included marketing colleagues, and I was the highest authority there. I pondered for a moment, then opened my phone. I added Luna to the Marketing Work Group. This time, I wanted everyone to see the antics of this bizarre mother-daughter duo. Just like in my previous life, after adding her, I said, “There are no outsiders in this group; it’s mainly for arranging work.” Luna nodded obediently. I checked my phone every few minutes that morning. Sure enough, it wasn’t long before the group showed, “Luna Chase added Clara Bloom to the chat.” Good! Good! Good! From today onward, I would closely observe how this heartless mother-daughter pair would create chaos.

During lunch break, I went to the break room to heat up my meal. As I was catching up on a show, I overheard two girls chatting nearby. “Did you hear? Our manager just said there’s a weirdo in the marketing department who added her mom to the work group.” “Ha! That’s gone viral! Her mom even said her kid can’t use the toilet, so everyone should take care of her.” “That’s hilarious! I’m going to stroll around the marketing department this afternoon to see who this giant baby is.” I suddenly snapped back to reality; I had turned on do not disturb for the Marketing Work Group and missed the exciting drama. Sure enough, when I opened the chat, the latest message was from Clara Bloom. “Luna can’t even use the toilet, so you all should take care of her.” But the only response was an awkward silence. Clara didn’t give up and @mentioned everyone. However, she wasn’t an admin, so she had to type “@everyone” herself. In my previous life, her mom had only acted up in our small group. This time, I wouldn’t go easy on her; if she wanted to embarrass herself, let it be in the big group. The office was buzzing with a strange atmosphere in the afternoon. Luna, however, seemed completely oblivious to her mistakes. Her qualities as a mama’s girl were evident. “My mom says women shouldn’t wear short skirts; that’s just asking for trouble.” “My mom says women who get their nails done are vain; only plain girls get noticed.” “My mom says just get by at work; women should focus on getting married—marriage is a woman’s true career.” “My mom says women who wear makeup lack confidence, unlike me; I’m naturally beautiful.” “My mom says…” So that entire afternoon, the office was overshadowed by “my mom says.” What she didn’t realize was that while we appeared calm, the Marketing Hub was already in a frenzy. “Seriously, does this person have a brain? Did HR hire her while asleep?” “Ugh, we’re so unlucky that she’s in our department during her internship.” “Well, it’s me who’s really unlucky! During lunch, she pulled me aside to teach her how to use the toilet! Even with a smart toilet, there are instructions on it! Did she really miss nine years of education?” “Just endure it; she looks like she’s struggling to get hired anyway.” I watched the lively chatter in the group and joined in the roasting. In my previous life, I thought Luna was just starting out in her career. Out of kindness, I tried to look after her. But unexpectedly, she turned around and accused me of workplace bullying. That deadly black coffee wasn’t even given to her by me. She had sneakily taken it when she heard I bought expensive black coffee while I was on leave. But no one expected that cup of coffee to cause her miscarriage, which indirectly cost me my life. I had seen Luna’s greedy nature in my previous life. She was a genuine journalism graduate. She appeared low-key, sincere, and humble in daily life. But at 3 PM, during afternoon tea time, Luna turned into a ravenous beast and rushed to the break room. In full view of everyone, she returned to her desk with a bag of snacks and yogurt. While others took a little at a time, she made a spectacle by taking a whole bag. Even the admin raised an eyebrow when passing by. As a result, that afternoon, the company group sent out a notice banning employees from taking large amounts of snacks at once. It was clear to everyone that this was aimed at Luna. But she seemed completely unfazed.

I brought my own lunch to work every day. Some colleagues ordered takeout, while others went out to eat. Just a few days into her job, Luna started complaining. “Sabrina, the takeout near our office is so expensive!” I didn’t even look up. “Well, you can go out for lunch to save on delivery fees.” “We’re in the city center, and a bowl of noodles costs over twenty bucks! Ugh.” Seeing I wasn’t engaging, Luna dropped the subject. She typed away at her computer. Not long after, Clara Bloom chimed in the Marketing Work Group again. “Luna can’t eat that junk! @Sabrina, don’t you cook? Could you make her a meal too?” Before I could respond, several notifications popped up in the small group. I opened the chat to see my colleagues brainstorming how to reply. “Sabrina, just ignore her; is she out of her mind, thinking her daughter is a princess?” “But she @mentioned you, and not responding isn’t great. Maybe just say you’re busy.” “I can’t believe Mr. Stone and the others haven’t noticed there’s such a weirdo in the group!” I looked up from my computer to see my colleagues watching me sympathetically. Then I @mentioned Clara in the work group. “Mrs. Bloom, I do cook daily, and my monthly food costs about $3,000. You can transfer the money to my account, and I’ll cook an extra portion for Luna.” After a long pause, Clara finally managed to respond. “Are you eating gold? How could it cost so much?” “Mrs. Bloom, I’m particular about my meals, so I buy high-quality ingredients. If you’re looking to save money, Luna can always eat in the company cafeteria.” “The cafeteria? Forget it! Your company is heartless; who knows if the food there is safe?” Her comment shocked everyone. Finally, the administrative director could no longer sit idle in the work group. “@Clara, I’m the administrative director here at Summit Enterprises, and I oversee the cafeteria. If you don’t have concrete evidence that the cafeteria food is problematic, I can sue you for defamation!” “Also, could @HR Director Ms. Grant look into why there’s a family member in the work group? This violates company regulations.” In the next moment, Luna’s mom was kicked out by HR. It was clear that Luna was finally realizing there were some big shots in the group. Her face flushed as she leaned close to me, questioning. “Sabrina, didn’t you say there were no outsiders in the group?” I purposely raised my voice, “Exactly, no outsiders; just our company colleagues.” Luna was at a loss for words and quietly returned to her desk. I thought I wouldn’t have to deal with her mom anymore. But then, unexpectedly, her mom tried to add me on social media. I ignored it, but she sent me ten requests throughout the day. Eventually, I got annoyed. I placed my phone in front of Luna. “What does your mom want? Why is she trying to add me?” Luna maintained her frail expression. “Mom’s just worried about me. After all, I just graduated, and she’s afraid I’ll get bullied.” I slammed the table. “If she’s worried about you getting bullied, why let you come to work? Staying home would be much safer!” Luna didn’t expect my outburst; her eyes turned red, and tears streamed down her cheeks. At that moment, a soft voice came from the corner of the office. “Isn’t her mom just showing concern? Sabrina, why are you so upset? Everyone understands what it’s like to be new; it’s just adding someone on social media, it’s not a big deal!” I turned to see it was my arch-rival, Isabella Hart from the Business Department. In my previous life, when I was being cyberbullied, she had added fuel to the fire online, claiming to be my colleague while spreading my supposed misdeeds. It was her interference that led to my unjust dismissal. She even revealed my home address to online trolls.

Thinking of this, a mischievous idea sparked in my mind. “Isabella, you’re such a kind person, so thoughtful.” I turned to Luna, grinning. “Did you see that? Isabella is so nice; she even wants to add your mom on social media!” Luna’s expression brightened as she tentatively asked Isabella. “Ms. Hart, you’re so nice! I’ll tell my mom to add you right away!” Isabella’s smile faded, and she awkwardly replied. “Uh, sure, just give her my social media info. It’s normal to look out for each other since we’re colleagues.” After a moment, I noticed Isabella was busy responding to messages. This time, the deadly black coffee fortune was on her side. Since Isabella had Luna’s mom’s contact, they started getting close. It felt eerily similar to how I had previously suffered. To show her concern for the intern, Isabella began bringing lunch for Luna every day. Even when passing by me, she couldn’t resist throwing a jab. “I’m not like some people, cold-hearted and indifferent to the struggles of interns.” A few remarks were fine, but she never seemed to tire of it. So, I dropped a few hints to Luna. “Isabella lives on Westfield Avenue too; it’s on her way home. She drives alone to work every day, so it must be pretty lonely on the road.” With my comment as a pretext, Luna’s mom told Isabella that evening to drive Luna to work every day. She justified it as needing someone to talk to for safety. Isabella wasn’t pleased, but morally, she couldn’t back down. After all, she had already made a big show of it. Luna had been working for a week, and I started assigning her some simple tasks. Like booking a hotel and coordinating with vendors, among other things. In my previous life, Luna had barely done any work during her internship. It wasn’t because I was particularly kind. It was because she had graduated without even knowing how to make a PowerPoint or properly format a Word document. But this time, I wasn’t going to spoil her. So, when the marketing and business departments had a trip planned, I handed her the task of booking the hotel. I figured that booking a hotel was something even a middle schooler could manage. Who would’ve thought that when our two departments arrived at the hotel Luna booked, we were met with embarrassment? “On a $400 travel budget, you booked a $200 room?” Isabella lost her usual softness. Luna stammered in silence. “Even if you booked a $200 room, at least pick a chain! You booked a freakin’ themed hotel for this trip?” We stood at the entrance of the room, helplessly staring at Luna. This was just the first room. A pink heart-shaped bed. Next to it hung nurse outfits, police uniforms, maid costumes, and even black latex. In the most prominent spot was a large transparent acrylic box. Inside were various suggestive toys that made everyone blush. We all stared at Luna, waiting for a reasonable explanation. Her sincere response shocked us all. “Isabella, I’ve stayed at this hotel with my boyfriend, and I thought it was pretty nice.”

I looked up to the sky in disbelief. Whatever happens, I’m no longer responsible for Luna’s workplace woes. “Luna, do you even have a brain? How could you book a place like this! Tell me how we’re supposed to stay here!” “Right now! Immediately! Go book another hotel! A chain one!” Isabella was genuinely angry this time. But Luna didn’t seem to care. Faced with Isabella’s grim face, she felt wronged. “Why are you being so mean? My mom said you promised her to take good care of me! It’s just booking a hotel; you all can do it yourselves. I’m going to find my boyfriend!” Luna pouted, shed a couple of tears, and walked away. In the end, we had to find another hotel, and it took us until 11 PM to settle down. For the next two days, Isabella wore a dark expression and didn’t smile at Luna once. I thought to myself, this was just the beginning. Some people are naturally selfish, taking your kindness for granted. When we returned to the office, the next morning, Isabella walked into the office alone. Normally, Luna would be right behind her. It looked like Isabella was really upset this time. At 10 AM, Luna still hadn’t arrived. Finally, just before noon, a middle-aged woman burst into the office. “Isabella Hart! Come out here!”

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A friend of mine from the City Development Office told me that the house my parents bought for me might be part of an upcoming Urban Renewal Project. I was eager to share this good news with my husband and mother-in-law. But when I got home, I saw my father-in-law, who had been dead for ten years, sitting there. Mrs. Harrington told me that when Marshall had gone overseas for work, he lost contact. Everyone assumed he had died. Now, Marshall had made money in Switzerland and wanted to bring the whole family to enjoy a better life. When Marshall saw my skeptical expression, his face changed instantly. “Daughter-in-law, what’s with that look? Are you not happy to see me back?” I stayed silent, which only seemed to anger him more. “We’re family, and I’ve come back to give you all a good life. Do you think I’m lying?” But there was something about his face that struck me. I’d swear I’d seen it before on one of those Online Fraud Watch sites. That afternoon, I got a call from my old friend, Olivia, who told me that the area where my parents had bought a house for me was going to be part of the Urban Renewal Project. I was so excited that I went to the market and bought expensive lobster and king crab, intending to celebrate with Everett and Mrs. Harrington. When I got home, there was a stranger sitting on the couch. Mrs. Harrington took the groceries from my hands and pulled me over to the man. “Harper, this is Ben’s father.” Mrs. Harrington’s eyes were red and puffy, her voice hoarse, clearly having just been crying. I stared in shock at the man in front of me, then glanced toward the wall where Marshall’s memorial photo had been hanging. But now, the wall was bare. Seeing my wide eyes and disbelief, Mrs. Harrington sighed. “Back then, when Ben’s father went to Switzerland for work, we lost all contact with him. We thought he had died.” “You’ve only been married to Ben for three years, so you wouldn’t know what happened before.” At that moment, Ben came home with a huge grin on his face. “Hey babe, you’re back!” “Can you believe it? I never thought I’d see my dad again.” As he spoke, tears welled up in Ben’s eyes. Mrs. Harrington and Marshall were also caught up in the moment, the three of them crying and embracing each other. Meanwhile, I stood there, completely bewildered. When Ben and I started dating four years ago, he told me his dad had died long ago, and his mother had raised him alone. I had always felt for Mrs. Harrington’s struggles and was determined to treat her with respect and care. Fortunately, Mrs. Harrington was understanding, and in the three years since Ben and I had married, there had been hardly any conflicts. But now, with this sudden appearance of a father-in-law, I felt a bit lost. At dinner, Everett and Mrs. Harrington were constantly piling food onto Marshall’s plate. I sat there, biting my chopsticks, thinking for a moment before I cautiously asked, “Dad, what were you doing all these years in Switzerland? Why didn’t you ever get in touch?” Marshall raised his head, his eyes darting around before he hesitated and put down his fork, lowering his head so I couldn’t see his expression. “When I first arrived in Switzerland, I didn’t know anyone, and I was robbed of everything I had. I survived by scavenging.” Mrs. Harrington’s eyes were filled with pity. Ben’s eyes also reddened as he clenched his fists tightly. “Later, I found work as a janitor and managed to save up a little money.” At this, Marshall looked up with deep affection toward Mrs. Harrington. “I left promising to make big money and take care of you both, but I was a failure. I only had a few hundred dollars and didn’t have the courage to come back.” Tears streamed down Mrs. Harrington’s face as she shook her head, devastated. “Then, two years ago, I met my current boss and finally started making real money.” “I’ve returned to make up for the years of guilt.” I frowned, feeling like something was off. Even if he didn’t have money, surely making a phone call wasn’t that hard? And from what I knew of Mrs. Harrington and Ben, they wouldn’t have held anything against him, even if he came back empty-handed. Just as I was about to speak, Ben interrupted me. “Harper, Dad’s just gotten back. Let’s let him rest for now. There’ll be plenty of time later.” Before bed, I asked Everett, “Did your dad come back alone this time? Did he say what he’s here to do?” Everett, yawning and barely keeping his eyes open, mumbled, “I think he brought an assistant, but he didn’t really say what he’s here for.” I tossed and turned in bed, unable to sleep, while Everett was already snoring beside me. This whole situation was just too strange. Besides, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I had seen Marshall’s face somewhere before.

The next morning, I walked into the living room and saw Marshall returning with breakfast in hand. He beamed at me, inviting me to eat. He had brought a spread of grits with cheese, fried dough, and cinnamon rolls, all greasy and spicy food. “Harper, I wasn’t sure what you liked, so I got what your mother-in-law and Ben enjoy.” I looked at the spread and forced a smile. “Dad, you still remember what they like to eat?” Marshall’s smile faltered for a second but quickly returned to normal. “Of course! We’re family, after all. How could I forget?” “Your mother and Ben always loved grits, especially with extra spice.” I sat down slowly, picking up a spoon and eating the grits absentmindedly. The flavor was fine, but both Mrs. Harrington and Ben were allergic to dairy. And in recent years, Mrs. Harrington had developed high cholesterol, so she couldn’t eat greasy food anymore. Ben couldn’t handle spicy food either. I once secretly put a tiny bit of hot sauce in his dish, and he turned bright red. Maybe Marshall didn’t know about Mrs. Harrington’s health conditions, but their allergy to dairy? That’s something they’ve had forever. ······ At first, I thought Marshall’s sudden return was part of some scheme. I observed him for two weeks, but all he did was take Mrs. Harrington shopping for clothes and jewelry, or give me and Ben cash gifts for no reason. Watching Marshall’s sincerity, I started wondering if I was being too suspicious. Could it be that he really wanted to make up for lost time? One day, when Ben and I were off work, Marshall brought home a man. “This is my assistant, Gabriel Sterling. He’s been busy with work, but he finally had time to come by today.” Gabriel looked a few years younger than Ben, wearing gold-rimmed glasses and looking well-mannered. “Nice to meet you! I’m Gabriel, Mr. Harrington’s assistant.” Marshall then told us that his boss was planning to open a branch of their company here and that he’d be made the general manager. Gabriel had been handling the company’s business over the past few days. Mrs. Harrington and Ben were overjoyed, clearly impressed that Marshall had climbed to such a high position. But something about it felt off. It all seemed too sudden. During dinner, Marshall kept praising Gabriel, calling him talented and giving him credit for helping out a lot. Gabriel, on the other hand, was humble, insisting it was all thanks to Marshall’s leadership. After dinner, Marshall pulled Ben into the office, saying they had some business matters to discuss. I felt increasingly uneasy and snuck to the office door to eavesdrop. I overheard Marshall say, “Ben, this is a rare opportunity. You need to stick with me on this.” Ben replied, “Dad, I know, but is this really legit?” Marshall lowered his voice. “Don’t worry. With Gabriel’s help, everything’s fine.” The more I listened, the more suspicious I became. I returned to the living room to find Mrs. Harrington and Gabriel chatting away. There was something unsettling in Gabriel’s gaze. That night, I shared my concerns with Everett, but he shrugged it off, saying I was overthinking things. Yet my intuition told me there was something more going on with Marshall’s sudden success and this mysterious assistant, Gabriel. Everett brushed it off, telling me to rest. I sighed as I lay next to Everett, who was already snoring away. If things kept going like this, Marshall could sell Ben out, and he’d still be counting the money. As for the Urban Renewal Project, I decided to keep that to myself for now, just in case.

Marshall continued pulling Ben aside for private conversations over the next few days. No matter how much I asked, Ben would just smile and tell me, “Good times are ahead.” For some reason, hearing those words made me nervous. I wanted to confront them and find out what they were hiding from me. But seeing how happy Ben and Mrs. Harrington were every day, I didn’t know how to approach the situation. Besides, I didn’t think Marshall would go so far as to deceive his own son. One day, I came home to find several strangers sitting in the living room. Ben, excited, pulled me over and proudly said, “Harper, we’re getting a bigger house soon.” I was completely confused. Ben and I were just regular office workers. The house we had now had taken years of saving to afford. The thought crossed my mind—did they know my house was part of the Urban Renewal Project? Marshall gave a huff. “Don’t worry, it’s not coming out of your pockets. I’m paying for the upgrade.” I looked at him, shocked. “Dad, you’ve only been back for a month. Where’s the money coming from?” Marshall coughed and gestured toward the two people on the couch. “I’m planning to mortgage this house to them and chip in some extra cash to get you a bigger one.” Seeing that I was still hesitant, Ben tugged at my hand. “Harper, Dad said he’s buying us a place in Silverwood Estates.” “Silverwood Estates?” Marshall assumed I was overwhelmed with excitement and gave me a dismissive glance. “That’s a prime location. Tons of people would kill to live there.” I knew full well how exclusive Silverwood Estates was, but it wasn’t a place people like us could afford. It had only recently been developed, marketed as luxury living, with prices around $1,500 per square foot, and all units were a minimum of 3,200 square feet. For people like Ben and me, living there was a pipe dream. I knew it wasn’t realistic and turned to Ben, hoping he’d snap out of it. “Ben, this isn’t something we can just rush into.” “We’ve only had this house for two years. It’s a good home for all of us.” Ben seemed to waver, looking at Marshall with uncertainty. “Dad, Harper makes a good point. We’re just regular folks, and we’re fine as we are.” Marshall looked irritated. “Ben, why are you so easily swayed?” “I’m the CEO of the company now. Do I need to answer to outsiders just to buy my son a house?” “It seems you’ve forgotten you even have a father.” Marshall was seething, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he breathed heavily. Mrs. Harrington and Ben rushed over to calm him down. In the corner, Gabriel suddenly spoke up. “Although the company is just starting, we’ve already secured several big contracts in under a month.” “And Mr. Harrington’s performance overseas has been stellar for years.” “The company’s chairman is even offering a bonus to Mr. Harrington to help him buy a house as a reward.” His gaze bore into me, as if trying to drag me into a dark pit. “Harper, your father-in-law only wants what’s best for you. Besides, don’t you still have that other house your parents left you?” Ben’s voice held a hint of reproach. Marshall’s anger shifted at Ben’s words, softening slightly. No matter how much they tried to persuade me, I refused to sell the house. “This house belongs to both Ben and me. My name is on the deed.” “Unless I agree, there’s no way you’re selling it.” I threw down those words and stormed off into the bedroom.

I had expected Marshall to pressure me more about selling the house, but days passed without any mention of it, as though the whole issue had never come up. Half a month later, as I was leaving work with a colleague, I saw Ben waving at me from a distance. Standing behind him were Marshall and Gabriel. My heart sank, unsure of what they had come to do this time. Sensing the tension, my colleague made a quick exit. With a heavy heart, I walked over to them. Before I could say anything, Marshall smiled warmly and said, “Sweetheart, I was out of line before. I’ve come to apologize.” I was taken aback, unsure how to respond. Ben chimed in, “Yeah, Dad’s been thinking about it a lot and realized he overreacted.” Marshall continued, “We can take our time with the house. We’re family, after all. We can talk things through.” Hearing this, I felt a weight lift off my shoulders, and my tone softened. “Dad, I’m glad you’re seeing it that way. We can always discuss things calmly.” Marshall then suggested we go out for dinner to talk more. At dinner, though, Marshall kept subtly probing about the location of the other house my parents had left me. My instincts went on high alert, and I answered vaguely. That house had been a gift from my parents when I got married. They were worried about me being far from home and having nowhere to go if anything went wrong, so they bought me a small second-hand house. Who knew that after just a few years, it would end up part of the Urban Renewal Project? Marshall seemed to pick up on my guardedness and lost interest, turning to drink with Gabriel. I frowned, watching Gabriel closely. Even though he was supposedly Marshall’s assistant, why was he attending a family dinner? Since Gabriel had arrived in our lives, Marshall treated him more like a superior than an assistant. The whole dinner felt like a game of hidden agendas, with only Ben getting drunk, blissfully unaware. Back home, I helped Ben to bed, and Mrs. Harrington handed him a large cup of honey water to sober up. I watched as Ben, his face flushed, tossed and turned on the bed. “Harper, I’m going to give you the best life,” Ben mumbled, half-asleep. I sat by the bed, gently patting his back to soothe him. “I believe you,” I whispered. But then he added, “Dad… I know… I know everything…” I froze, leaning in closer. “What do you know?” Ben rolled over and fell silent, refusing to speak. I gave him a frustrated nudge. I knew it. Something about Marshall’s return wasn’t right. Ben’s words kept me up all night. The next morning, as I dragged myself into work with dark circles under my eyes, my coworkers teased me about staying up late. At lunch, the colleague who had left with me the day before pulled me into the break room. She looked at me seriously. “Who were the two men with your husband yesterday?” I blinked in confusion. “That was… my father-in-law and his assistant.” She pulled up an article on her tablet and held it up for me to see. “Does this man and the younger one look familiar?” I stared at the screen and gasped. The man in the article was unmistakably Gabriel. Below his picture was the headline: “Business Fraud Suspect Still at Large.”

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Jade’s life turned upside down when Lucas’s first love showed up out of the blue. She packed up and flew to the States with their son in tow. Everyone said they didn’t give a damn about her. Everyone called her a useless trophy wife, running away with her tail between her legs. Until one day, when she finally stood tall and crushed them all under her heel… 0 Lucas’s first love was back in town. Back in high school, he met Ruby at a writing competition. People said she was pretty, smart, and lively, from a well-off family to boot. Young love blossomed quickly, and they even promised to go to the same college. But fate had other plans. Lucas got into Stanford, while Ruby… well, I’m not sure where she ended up. At first, I thought they broke up because of the long-distance thing. That is, until our mutual friend spilled the tea: “Jade, you won’t believe this. That girl threatened to kill herself if Lucas didn’t give up Stanford and stay with her in China!” Blackmail? Suicide threats? Giving up Stanford? I couldn’t help but chuckle. This plot seemed straight out of some cheesy online novel. Lucas and I grew up together. Our families had been business partners for three generations. When my dad’s mistress showed up and had the nerve to call my mom, she flew back to the States in a rage. That’s how I ended up at Stanford with Lucas. After years apart, he’d grown even more handsome. But maybe because we were too familiar, I never felt that spark with him. Instead, we had this unspoken understanding. Just like our parents’ relationship. I thought my mom would divorce my dad, but she didn’t. She told me, “Love and marriage are different beasts. They’ve been married for years, built trust, intertwined their companies, and established a stable social circle. It’s not something you can easily cut ties with. Besides, the fact that woman showed up herself proves how stupid and incapable she is. If your dad had any real intention of being with her, she wouldn’t have needed to do that.” “But Dad still cheated,” I said quietly, lowering my head. “You always told me, ‘Once a cheater, always a cheater.’” Mom smiled thinly. “Well, the day she claimed your dad was with her at a hot spring, he was actually with me in Hong Kong visiting your grandparents.” I was speechless. “Jade, whether you end up marrying a business partner or not, remember this: don’t let emotions cloud your judgment. Never act rashly.” “Then why did you rush off to America in such a huff?” I asked. Mom smiled again. “How else could I have convinced you to give up Barcelona and come to Stanford?” 0

I’d been played. I’d always dreamed of the romance of Barcelona, wanting to live on an estate surrounded by lavender fields. But as the sole heir to the family business, I wasn’t allowed to just laze around and enjoy life without putting in the effort. So when Ruby asked to meet, I agreed. She eagerly showed me her memories with Lucas, flaunting their matching tattoos. She was as proud as a peacock, and I could barely keep from laughing. “I’ve never seen a mistress so shameless and high-profile. Aren’t you embarrassed?” Lily, my best friend since childhood, had always been fiery and sharp-tongued. “Embarrassed?” Ruby raised an eyebrow. “We’re true love. What’s there to be embarrassed about? I’m here to make you face reality. Stop deceiving yourself and burying your head in the sand like an ostrich, pretending I don’t exist. Let me tell you, Lucas said I’m the one he loves most, cares about most, and can’t let go of. You’re just a stay-at-home wife with nothing in common with him. What’s the point of clinging to the title of Mrs. Mu? Just divorce him. I’ll make sure Lucas gives you a generous alimony. You’re still young…” SLAP! Lily’s face was red with anger as she struck Ruby. Ruby was stunned for a second, then covered her face and screamed, “How dare you hit me!” In the quiet private room, her shriek caused the well-trained waiters to peek through the curtains, asking if we needed any help. I was stunned too, not because Lily had hit her. But because Ruby was screaming like a shrew, even trying to pull Lily’s hair. And she actually said I was clinging to the title of Mrs. Mu? Me, a housewife? “Tell Lucas to come talk to me about divorce, and I’ll leave immediately,” I said, cutting off her tantrum. Ruby looked surprised. “Even now, you’re still holding on? I underestimated you!” Then she smiled again. “Fine, I’ll have Lucas come talk to you. When he does, don’t cry and beg not to divorce.” I nodded, then pulled Lily up to leave. “Hey, you haven’t paid the bill!” Ruby called out as we were leaving. I glanced at the untouched afternoon tea set priced at $399 on the table and smiled faintly. “The owner is a friend of mine. The waiter will put it on my tab. If you like it, feel free to take the leftovers home.” 0

In the days that followed, Lucas never brought up divorce. Everything seemed normal, except he sometimes came home a bit later from work. When I asked, he just said an old classmate was looking for investment in a new startup project, and he was still considering it. I told him to send me the details. Sure enough, Ruby’s name was on the list of founders. Looking at the company’s messy accounts and pitiful revenue, I shook my head. With the economy in a slump and companies cutting costs left and right, she had the nerve to try and scam money with such a shoddy company. Dream on! “What do you think?” Lucas asked. I hadn’t told him about Ruby showing up yet. Lucas and I had been married for years and had a son. We were planning for a daughter when Ruby suddenly appeared. But as my mom said, Lucas and I were more of a business alliance. Our families were deeply intertwined, childhood sweethearts with a complex relationship. Pulling one thread could unravel the whole tapestry. So I didn’t believe he would cheat, let alone divorce me. “I think we need to be cautious. You know this area better, so why don’t you handle it?” I said, nodding slightly, feeling a bit relieved. I handed him a bowl of soup I’d made specially for his weak stomach. The next day, I arrived at the company with a prepared proposal. I rarely came to the office these days due to our baby plans, so many old employees were surprised to see me, looking eager for gossip. The new employees didn’t even recognize me. Just as I reached Lucas’s office door, I heard Ruby’s familiar voice: “Lucas, please help me. This is my dream!” Lucas didn’t respond. I knocked lightly and pushed the door open. Ruby was sitting next to him on the couch. When I entered, not only did she not stand up, but she even moved closer to him. I glanced at her dress, cut so low you could almost see her underwear, then calmly placed the documents on the desk. “Am I interrupting?” “Not at all, honey. This is Ruby, the one I mentioned,” Lucas jumped up from the couch like he’d been electrocuted, quickly moving to my side to introduce us. “Ruby, this is my wife, Jade.” I caught a flash of resentment in Ruby’s eyes as she looked at Lucas with an innocent expression. “Jade is so beautiful. I can’t believe you never mentioned her.” What a joke. Who was she to deserve a mention? Besides, mentioned or not, didn’t she show up anyway? Lucas looked uncomfortable. I couldn’t help but laugh, “There’s no reason to discuss family matters with outsiders all the time.” I handed Lucas the thermos I’d brought. “I heard you have a dinner meeting tonight, so I made this specially. I have afternoon tea with Mrs. Zhou and the others, so I’ll head out first.” Years of understanding meant Lucas knew what was inside without opening it. He nodded with a smile. “Thank you for your trouble.” But Ruby wouldn’t let it go. “I’m going to that dinner with Lucas tonight. Jade, what’s this good stuff? Can I have some too?” Lucas frowned, putting the thermos on his desk. “You can’t just drink someone else’s medicine!” “Is it some folk remedy for hangovers?” Ruby pouted strategically. “I used to think those TV shows where housewives always brewed weird concoctions were just making stuff up. I didn’t expect…” She covered her mouth and laughed. But neither Lucas nor I were laughing. On the contrary, the atmosphere in the office grew tense as Lucas’s face darkened. Lucas’s grandmother was a top doctor in China. This soup was her recipe for Lucas’s weak stomach. Clearly, Ruby didn’t know this. I sighed. From the start, I felt this woman was missing something upstairs. She didn’t seem like Lucas’s type at all. But if it were anyone else, Lucas would probably be furious by now. Yet his patience with Ruby exceeded that for others. He didn’t respond, just gave Ruby a complex look. “Jade knows a lot about the food industry. Ruby, if you’re serious about this, you should talk to Jade first.” Huh? I was taken aback. I could understand Lucas not wanting to directly refuse Ruby’s shabby company’s financing. But what was this about the food industry? Wasn’t Ruby’s company’s main product some kind of couples’ app according to the documents? Seeing my confused expression and silence, Ruby, clearly missing a few brain cells, started talking flippantly. “Lucas, you don’t really think Jade knows about the food industry just because she spends her days having tea and meals with friends, do you? There’s quite a difference. Besides, I want to open a cat café. The main customers are white-collar workers and students…” She looked at me challengingly as she spoke. “We can discuss business matters ourselves. I won’t keep Jade from her shopping and afternoon tea!” I was speechless. Was Ruby putting on an act? Even if she’d done the bare minimum of research, she couldn’t be this stupid! Me, the Young Miss of the Jones family, with a PhD in Economics from Stanford Business School, only good for shopping and drinking tea? Did she know how much it cost for me to give one lecture? Looking at her smug expression, even showing disdain and contempt towards me, I was sure she didn’t know. Even if she knew I graduated from Stanford, she’d probably stubbornly believe my degree was fake or bought. Lucas was clearly struggling to keep his composure. I could see he was holding back. But I didn’t understand why he was holding back. Was it because she was his first love, and he couldn’t bear to hurt her? “I have something to attend to later. Ruby, just do as I said. For the project follow-up, you can discuss with Jade,” he said, picking up his constantly ringing phone and quickly walking out. As the office door closed, only Ruby and I were left in the room. With Lucas gone, she didn’t need to keep up the act. She looked at me coldly. “You’re really patient, aren’t you? Running to the company, bringing soup, showing concern… all to win him back. But you saw it too. We’re business partners who can support each other, progressing side by side. And you? You can make soup? Any housekeeper can do that. Other than that, what can you do besides shopping, drinking tea, and spending money?” “I can discuss your project with you!” I pointed at the documents on the desk, adding with a smile, “That’s what Lucas said.” “Hah!” She sneered, her eyes full of contempt. “You don’t really believe that, do you? Lucas was just being polite, saving face for you. He’s afraid you’ll accuse us of transferring your marital assets this way. You think he respects you? He’s worried you’ll make a scene at the company and cause trouble for him!” I looked at her like she was an idiot. Putting aside whatever Lucas had done to give her such confidence. Even if it were true, how could she so casually discuss transferring assets with me? Was something missing in her brain? My silence made Ruby even more smug. She continued, “Lucas’s kindness to me isn’t just this. You heard it too, he’s taking me to that important dinner tonight. And he said before me, he never took any other woman. Do you know what that means? It means I’m the most important, the only woman in his heart. You’ve been married to him for so long, and he’s never taken you. How pitiful…” She stared at me intently. “You must feel wronged, right? Go ahead and cry if you want. It’s okay. Actually, failing in love or marriage isn’t a big deal. You’re not bad-looking, and even if your family background isn’t great, Lucas will give you enough money to live comfortably. You should let go when it’s time. Otherwise, if things get too ugly, be careful you might not even get alimony!” I finally couldn’t hold back anymore. I burst out laughing. Not just at her bizarre logic. But because she never understood that I didn’t care about intangible things like love. What I cared about were tangible things that kept the power in my hands. Like career, money, power, and marriage. Like the fact that Lucas and I had a child. And like the fact that I held the power of life and death over her project. I told her coldly not to daydream. We wouldn’t invest in either her bug-ridden app or her cat café. But Ruby was full of confidence. “Jade, use your brain. The fact that I can be here, that Lucas dared to mention this to you, proves he values it. He will definitely agree.” I watched her sway out of the room, then opened the office window. The heavy perfume scent was blown away by the wind, along with my unwavering certainty. That night, I didn’t sleep, waiting for Lucas to come home instead. At four in the morning, a drunk Lucas stumbled through the door. Our live-in housekeeper, Mrs. Wang, grumbled as she helped him to the bedroom. The room was instantly filled with the strong smell of alcohol and the pungent perfume from the office earlier. It was Dior J’adore, a fragrance I never used. “Jade, I’ll go make Lucas some hangover soup,” Mrs. Wang said, noticing my displeased expression and quickly leaving after setting Lucas down. “Honey,” Lucas slurred. “Mm. Sit up, I need to talk to you,” I said, pushing away his arms as he tried to hug me. “That Ruby came to see me before. She said you two were in love and told me to divorce you.” Lucas’s arm noticeably stiffened. He mumbled incoherently, face down on the bed, repeating over and over, “Jade, honey, I love you.” Then, loud snores filled the room, and my heart sank a little. I knew he was faking it, and I also knew you could never wake someone pretending to be asleep. But he couldn’t keep sleeping forever. I planned to have a good talk with Lucas when he woke up. But I ended up sleeping until late morning, and Lucas had already left for a business trip. Worse still, Mrs. Wang came to tell me that our son, Ethan, seemed to have a fever. 0

I quickly called the driver to take Mrs. Wang and me to the hospital. Thankfully, it wasn’t flu season, and the private hospital wasn’t busy. The admission process was quick too. I stayed by Ethan’s side until he fell asleep, then left him with Mrs. Wang and went to the small living room in the suite to eat something. By now, Lily was furious, slamming the table in righteous anger. “Jade, I’m telling you, Lucas must be involved with that woman. Call him right now. Forget about business. At a time like this, make him come back. I want to see what’s more important to him – money or you and the child?” “There’s no comparison,” I shook my head. Unlike her lack of composure, I was heartbroken but trying to stay rational. “There’s no rush for these couple of days. He can’t keep avoiding it forever.” “You… but Ethan is sick!” Lily exclaimed. “Ethan’s illness is for doctors to treat. Lucas isn’t a doctor,” I replied. “You!” Lily was fuming. “You’re just too good to Lucas. You’ve spoiled him!” “Is that so?” I smiled. I wasn’t doing this for him. I was doing it for our child and myself. I didn’t want to tear everything apart without solid evidence, only to end up labeled as a shrew and become a laughingstock for Ruby and other ill-intentioned people. It would leave me in a passive and awkward position. “It’s not good? He might have gone on this business trip with that woman!” Lily glared at me, frustrated. “That’s not necessarily true,” I said, finishing the last bite of cake and pointing out the window. “Look, she’s here.” “What?” Lily, still angry, yanked open the hospital room door. Seeing Ruby walking over, she immediately started cursing, “You’re like a dog, aren’t you? Sniffing out meat and following it here!” It’s no wonder she said that. Ruby’s intel was remarkably quick. Even my parents, who were playing tourist at a nearby attraction, hadn’t arrived yet, but she was already here. “I heard Ethan was sick, and Lucas wasn’t around, so I came to check on him. I even brought a gift!” Ruby said, unfazed by Lily’s outburst. She placed a gift box containing a drone on the table, then looked at me. “Jade, did you not sleep well last night? You’ve got dark circles under your eyes.” She smiled. “Is it because Lucas told you he agreed to invest in my cat café?” “What?” I had been indifferent until now. But this statement truly surprised me. However, I maintained my composure. “Is that so? He didn’t tell me. But any decision he makes still needs my approval as a company shareholder.” I pushed the gift on the table back to her. “Take it back. My son doesn’t need anything from you.” “Oh?” Ruby feigned shock, smiling at me. “But I saw he quite liked everything. Those blue and white shoes last month, that pair of overalls, and the Lego set Lucas brought home a few days ago… you don’t know? I helped Lucas pick all of those.” With that one sentence, she completely shattered my psychological defenses! Instantly, I felt my blood boiling. If it was just about the investment earlier, I could still stay calm. But now, I absolutely couldn’t tolerate this! All thoughts of good manners went out the window. This was my son, who I carried for ten months and gave birth to with great difficulty. Who was she to interfere? How dare she try to get involved! I was shaking with anger, grabbed the box on the table, and hurled it at Ruby!

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My husband watched me miscarry while he was in the car with his new love. When he tried to reach out to me afterward, I told him that unless he was a vegetable, I wasn’t interested. A year later, I read in the news that he had, in fact, become a vegetable. When I lost my baby in the car accident, my world shattered into a million irreparable pieces. I was drowning in a sea of despair, but Milton was nowhere to be found. He happened to be driving by, his sleek car a glimmering facade under the late afternoon sun. I caught a glimpse of him through the chaos, his lips locked in a passionate embrace with his female assistant, her laughter ringing like a cruel mockery in my ears as they waited for the traffic light. Our eyes met for a fleeting second—his filled with indifference, mine bursting with unfiltered pain. And then, without so much as a flicker of recognition, he sped off, leaving me stranded in the wreckage of my life. The world around me faded, the sirens and screams drowned out by the deafening silence of betrayal. That same night, while the shadows danced around me in the bedroom, I stumbled upon something crumpled in the corner of our bed—a thong. Red, lacy, and unmistakably not mine. My heart tightened as I held it between my trembling fingers, the fabric a cruel confirmation of the truth I had tried to ignore. My marriage, once a sanctuary, had become a web of deceit—a lie that ensnared my heart in a suffocating grip. In that moment, clarity washed over me like a tidal wave, pushing away the remnants of denial. I could feel the storm inside me churning, but I forced my voice to remain steady as I reached for my phone. “Mr. Janathan, I’ve made up my mind,” I said, my voice unwavering, even as fury and heartache roiled within. “I can start at your company.” “That’s wonderful news! ” His enthusiasm on the other end of the line was a stark contrast to the numbness that enveloped me. The second I hung up, Milton emerged from the bathroom He used to take five-minute—quick, efficient, just like everything else in his life. But lately, it was different. Half an hour, sometimes more. Always with his phone in hand, as if he couldn’t bear to be disconnected from whatever affair was consuming him. “Who were you talking to?” he asked, eyes glued to his phone, his voice so casual it stung.

“Mr. Janathan,” I replied, my tone deliberately detached, a mask over the tumult inside me. “Ah,” he mumbled, his eyes glued to his phone, absorbed in a world that no longer included me. With a steely calmness, I opened my phone and began drafting my resignation letter. Each tap of my finger felt like a finality, sealing the fate of a life I had once thought was secure. It was only when he reached for his water cup, expecting the rich, fragrant coffee I used to brew for him every night, that he finally noticed something was amiss. The cup sat empty. He paused, confusion flickering across his features, and then his gaze shifted to me—really looked at me, as if he were seeing a ghost materialize in the dim light of our shared misery for the first time in months. “I consulted a specialist,” he said, his tone dripping with nonchalance, as if offering me a peace treaty. “He said it’s just a minor injury, nothing serious.” A minor injury? The words echoed in my head, taunting me. I turned away, my eyes glued to my phone, fingers trembling as I typed. The resignation letter was nearly finished, each word a stepping stone away from him, from this life, from the wreckage of our love. “Alright,” I replied flatly, refusing to meet his gaze, feeling the weight of his presence suffocating me. That afternoon, I found myself lying on a cold hospital bed, the sterile scent of antiseptic clinging to the air like an unwanted reminder of my shattered dreams. I was numb and exhausted, the physical pain eclipsed by the emotional turmoil churning within me. Ten stitches across my abdomen. But the real pain was something no amount of sutures could fix. I had just found out I was pregnant—a few weeks along, a fragile flicker of life that now felt like a cruel joke. The doctor’s voice was gentle, heavy with an apology I didn’t want to hear. “If you had been brought to the hospital sooner, the baby might have been saved,” he said, his words slicing through me like a surgeon’s scalpel. Milton’s brow furrowed as he took in my expression, his concern momentarily breaking through the wall of indifference he had built around himself. But just then, his phone buzzed, an insistent vibration that shattered the fragile moment between us. He glanced at the screen, a flicker of anxiety crossing his features before he turned away.

The man who had once vowed to be my partner, my rock, was now a ghost, lost in the labyrinth of his own desires. My heart ached—not just for the baby I had lost, but for the love I had thought we shared, now reduced to a mere shadow of what could have been. His lips curved into a familiar smile—the kind I hadn’t seen directed at me in years. It was warm, inviting, and utterly deceptive, like sunlight breaking through a storm cloud. Without a second thought, he turned away, completely forgetting I even existed in the room. As soon as he was out of sight, I unlocked my phone and opened my secret social media account, a portal to the world he thought I couldn’t access. My heart pounded in my chest like a war drum. I scrolled through his feed, each post a dagger that twisted deeper into my heart. Pictures of him laughing, carefree, his arm draped around a woman . She looked vibrant, alive—everything I felt I had lost. With each photo, I felt the walls closing in, the room around me fading into darkness. My fingers trembled as I navigated through the snapshots of his life, a life I had once shared but was now an outsider to. And there it was, a new post. “I shouldn’t have let my love wait.” The words blurred as my vision narrowed, the bright screen becoming a twisted reflection of my reality. He could spare his assistant an apology for a dinner delay, but not a single ounce of regret for the child we had just lost. The notification from Mr. Janathan buzzed on my phone almost simultaneously as Milton walked into the room, a cruel twist of fate. The contract. I clicked the link and signed it without a second thought, sealing my decision to leave this life behind, as if closing the door on a nightmare. The next morning, Milton woke up earlier than usual, which caught me off guard. His routine had been predictable, his presence almost like a ghost haunting the remnants of our home. But today felt different. He returned with pastries, their sweet aroma wafting through the air, an unsettling contrast to the storm brewing inside me. He placed the bag on the table, and as I reached to open it, his hand shot out, slapping mine away with an unexpected force that took my breath away. “You like blueberry butter cookies, right?” he said, his voice unnervingly casual, the kind of nonchalance that stung like a slap. “I got one just for you.” For a moment, time froze. I stared at him, disbelief washing over me. Blueberry butter cookies? For me? They weren’t for me. They were for his precious Alice Winson. “Seven years, Milton,” I said, my voice trembling with restrained fury, each word dripping with the weight of my pain. “Seven years, and you still don’t know I’m allergic to blueberry?” I could see the flicker of surprise in his eyes, quickly masked by a defensive shrug. “It’s just a cookie, Sara. —” He froze, his hand suspended midway to his cup of coffee, caught in a moment that felt like a lifetime. I could feel the weight of his annoyance pressing down on me. Without a moment’s hesitation, he stood abruptly, the chair scraping against the floor with a sound that echoed my turmoil. His voice was cold and biting, cutting through the air like glass. “Stop making a fuss.”

The words hung there, heavy and mocking, a dismissal that burned in my chest. “OK,” I shot back, the words sharp and deliberate, “tell your girlfriend not to leave this on my bed anymore.” Milton’s brows knitted together, confusion flashing across his face as he took the bag from me, the tension coiling tighter between us. When he peeked inside and saw the lace thong, the color drained from his face, and for a split second, shock etched every feature. It was as if the truth had slapped him, the reality of his betrayal suddenly laid bare. But then he met my calm, indifferent expression—one that didn’t seek further lies, . For the first time, I saw him hesitate, the facade flickering like a dying flame. “I’ll tell her to stop being so careless,” he said, his voice cool. Sensing the shift in my mood, Milton offered, almost offhandedly, “I can buy you something else for breakfast today.” I blinked, stunned, the words hanging in the air like a cruel joke. Seven years. Seven long years together, and not once—not once—had he ever brought me breakfast in bed, or even suggested sharing a morning meal. But Alice? His precious assistant? On her very first day, she was already receiving the kind of attention and care I had yearned for, a privilege I’d never been afforded. As I stood there, the realization twisted like a knife in my gut, he was already at the door, back to me, his hand gripping the handle as if it were a lifeline. He didn’t even bother to turn around, didn’t care enough to face me. “Something urgent came up at the office. You should feed yourself,” he muttered, his voice flat, devoid of warmth or empathy. Half an hour later, I limped into my cubicle. My colleagues greeted me with an unsettling mix of sympathy and concern, their gazes lingering just a moment too long, as if they could see the cracks in my façade. I couldn’t help but overhear two coworkers talking in hushed voices, their words slicing through the air with cruel precision. “So it’s true—Milton really ditched Sara for his assistant?” one of them asked, disbelief mingling with gossip. “Yep! You should’ve seen it this morning! Alice comes in, says she’s got a headache, and Milton swoops in, picks her up right there in the lobby, in front of everyone,” the other replied, laughter tinged with malice. My hand slipped, and the mug shattered on the floor with a deafening crash, silencing their gossip. I crouched down, the cool tile pressing against my knees, and gathered the piece. Each shard felt like a betrayal, sharp and jagged, cutting deeper into the already festering wound that was my marriage. I ended up working late, the office nearly empty as the hours dragged on, the fluorescent lights flickering overhead like the heartbeat of a dying relationship.

“Sara,” Milton muttered, his voice low and too close, his breath brushing against my ear like an unwelcome ghost. He draped his coat over me, an attempt at warmth that felt more like a shackle. “Why didn’t you respond to my messages?” I didn’t bother turning around. Instead, I glanced at my phone, the screen glowing with his latest message: [What flavor of dessert do you usually like?] A bitter laugh threatened to escape as I stared at the words on my phone. I had asked him for desserts once, back in the early days of our marriage. His response still echoed in my mind, sharp and cruel, like a slap across my spirit: “Desserts? You want me to buy desserts for you? Don’t make me sick with this childish crap!” Now, the same man was pretending to care, clutching a small box of desserts in his hands as if it were a peace offering. How laughable. The very sight of it made my stomach turn, a mix of sweet nostalgia and bitter resentment churning violently within me. I ignored the sweet scent wafting from the box, its sugary aroma a stark contrast to the bitterness coating my tongue. Instead, I kept my eyes fixed on the stack of papers in front of me, focusing on the mundane details of my work as if they could shield me from the chaos swirling around us. I could feel his confusion hanging in the air, a palpable shift that weighed down the space between us. His voice broke the silence again, soft but edged with uncertainty. “Sara, I don’t understand. I thought… I thought you’d appreciate this.” “I get a stomachache from desserts now,” I replied, dismissive, my tone as flat as I could make it. Then, his voice dropped, colder than before. “Let’s go home together after,” he muttered, the command hanging between us like a guillotine poised to drop. Barely thirty seconds after he walked away, Milton’s phone lit up on my desk. The brightness pierced through my cloud of thoughts, and I glanced at the screen—Alice’s name flashed like a neon sign, a mocking reminder of his betrayal. The message blinked at me, tauntingly innocent: [Nobody sends a bunch of roses made of desserts all at once?] I shifted my gaze back to the computer, my face blank, fingers moving mechanically across the keys. Each stroke felt like a countdown to liberation, a farewell to the life I had been suffocating in. We got home a little after six. The moment I stepped out of the car, a fire ignited within me. I marched straight to the bedroom, my heart racing as I grabbed my suitcase and began to pack. Clothes, shoes, memories—it all went in without a second thought, each item a testament to the years wasted in a loveless marriage. When Milton walked in, freshly showered and towel-drying his hair, he froze. His eyes drifted to my vanity, the half-empty surface betraying what I had been doing—packing my life away. He frowned, but it wasn’t the concern of a husband; it was mild curiosity, like noticing a chair out of place in a meticulously organized room. “Hey,” he said, his tone casual, “I’m going on a business trip to Milan next month. If you want anything, just make a list, and I’ll grab it for you.” “Nah. I don’t want anything. Thanks anyway.” In a few days, I’d be gone. No gifts, no gestures could fix that now. Suddenly, the air in the room shifted, thickening with tension. Milton tossed the towel onto the bed with a force that echoed my frustration, his eyes narrowing into cold, sharp slits as he bore down on me. “So, what?” he snapped, his voice hardening, cutting through the silence like a knife. “You’re upset because I bought you the desserts?” But before I could muster a single word, he scoffed, dismissing me as if I were a fly buzzing around his head. “Sara, you’re out of line,” he said, his words dripping with disgust, as if I were some inconvenient piece of furniture he was too weary to move. Before I could respond, he turned on his heel and stormed into his own bedroom, slamming the door with a force that reverberated through the walls, making them tremble like the remnants of our crumbling marriage. Seven years. Seven long, excruciating years of this twisted dance. He was always the first to retreat, the master of silent treatments and emotional lockouts, delivering his punishments without a word. Each time, I had bent, humbled myself, and tried to patch the fractures in our relationship. But this time , I felt a shift deep within me—a steel resolve solidifying with each breath. I raised an eyebrow, unfazed by his childish display, and turned off the bedside lamp with a decisive click, plunging the room into darkness.

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He claimed it was just borrowing sperm, a simple transaction. Yet every holiday, I found myself with only half the gifts, forever the afterthought, the leftover. This isn’t just a secret; it’s a betrayal that her husband deserves to know. Because how can I ever find my true love if I remain shackled to the ghost of their deceit? Elena’s post hit like a slap in the face, but this slap came slow, deliberate, savoring every sting it left behind. The ultrasound was the centerpiece—a blurred, wriggling shadow growing inside her. And the caption—god, the caption—dripped with condescending sweetness. “Thank you to my dear Mike for lending me the gift I needed when I was most helpless. Soon, we’ll meet our little miracle.” As if Mike had merely donated a pen, a book—something insignificant. Not like he’d lent her sperm. My fingers hovered over the screen for what felt like an eternity. Every letter of my comment seemed to weigh a thousand pounds. “Congratulations to both of you,” I typed, my heart shattering with each word. And yet, as I hit send, it was as if I’d just let go of the last thread of dignity I had left. Mike’s voice came through like a thunderclap, full of fury and disdain. “I just lent my sperm to Elena, can you stop making a fuss?” The coldness in his voice had settled deep into my chest, numbing the ache that once throbbed there. It was clear—it’s time to let go. I placed my trembling hands over my slightly bulging belly. The life growing inside me was supposed to be our future,and I had planned to surprise Mike on our anniversary, imagining his face lighting up with joy. But now, that fantasy shattered before me. He didn’t deserve it—didn’t deserve us. “I’m sorry,” I whispered to the baby inside me, my voice breaking. This was supposed to be the beginning of a new chapter, a fresh start. Instead, it was a quiet farewell, to a life that could have been, and to a man who never truly cared. The dam inside me broke, and tears began to spill down my cheeks. Mike never wanted this, never wanted us. The intimacy between us had been hollow for years, each touch empty, each kiss colder than the last. That night, Mike came home early, something he rarely did. I heard him call my name from the hallway, his voice carrying a forced warmth that made my stomach turn. But I couldn’t answer him. I lay still in the bedroom, the silence between us thick, like an ocean of words unspoken. The sound of running water echoed from the bathroom, and with each drip, my heart sank deeper. The sound of the water stopped, and the door creaked open. In the darkness, I felt him—his presence as undeniable as the ache in my chest. He moved quietly, deliberately, like a shadow slipping into the room. I could hear his soft footsteps, the rustle of his clothes, but I refused to move, to acknowledge him. Then, out of nowhere, he was beside me, his arms wrapping around my waist. It was the first time in what felt like forever that he had reached for me, touched me as though I mattered. His warmth seeped through my thin pajamas, an unexpected and unsettling comfort. His body pressed against mine, but my heart was already miles away, frozen like stone. My eyes burned with unshed tears, but I kept my breath steady, unwilling to let him see the storm raging inside me. This sudden tenderness wasn’t love. It was a last gasp. “Wife, I lent my sperm just to help her fulfill a wish. I promise, as soon as she gives birth, I’ll end things with her completely.” The flattery in his tone, the pleading—it was hollow, like he was trying to plaster over a gaping wound with flimsy words. His voice shifted, the tone growing sharp, laced with impatience. “I’ve been so humble to please you, aren’t you satisfied?” “Don’t forget it was you,” he continued, his words biting, “You said you want to be with me no matter who I had been with.” “I could have kept it from you, but I told you out of respect, and now you’ve really disappointed me.” . “Think carefully about how I’ve treated you recently,” his voice laced with frustration. “You want a child, and I’ve tried my best to accommodate you.” With that, he slammed the door, the echo of it reverberating through the room, leaving me gasping for air, drowning in the suffocating darkness. Mike had disappeared before dawn, vanishing like a ghost, leaving the house cold and empty. I was alone, and the weight of it crushed me. The silence was unbearable, and a part of me knew—I deserved this. I had allowed myself to fall so deeply into this trap, to believe in a love that had long since withered. The phone rang several times, and I reluctantly answered. It was John, one of Mike’s colleagues, expressing concern with a kindness I couldn’t even register. But in his well-meaning words, he let something slip. Mike hadn’t been at work recently. He’d been with her—taking care of Elena. My heart shattered, but I had no time to let the pain consume me. I dragged myself to the hospital, every step heavy with dread, knowing what I had to do. I couldn’t bring this child into a world where love didn’t exist, where the only thing waiting for us was abandonment and betrayal. The abortion was quick. Too quick. Ten minutes was all it took for the life inside me to be erased. When they wheeled me out, I felt hollow, like a shell of the person I used to be. My face was pale, my hands trembling as I numbly handed over my credit card to pay the bill.

But fate, cruel as ever, wasn’t finished with me. As I turned to leave, I saw him. Mike. Standing there, holding Elena by the shoulders, his face twisted in anger. He spotted me before I could slip away, and in an instant, his expression darkened. “Are you following me?” he barked, his voice filled with accusation, as though I were the one intruding on his life, as if I were the problem here. My body still ached from the procedure, my heart even more so. Instead of answering Mike, I turned my gaze to Elena. She shifted uncomfortably under my stare. But rather than confronting the weight of the moment, she feigned anger, pulling Mike’s ear playfully, her voice dripping with insincerity. “How can you talk like that? Why would Mary follow us? We’re open and honest with each other, and it’s not like Mary doesn’t understand.” All I could manage was a bitter smile, tinged with the sharp taste of irony. “Yes, what does it have to do with me if you and your wife come for a prenatal checkup? Why would I follow you?” But Mike’s anger flared, and his voice sliced through the tension. “What do you mean? I only regard Elena as my sister!”

3 Elena’s eyes glinted with mischief as she accused Mike, her voice dripping with mock outrage. “How could you do that?!” she yelled, but that sly smile gave her away. A wave of nausea hit me, and I leaned heavily against the wall, gritting my teeth against the pain. Suddenly, she collapsed dramatically onto the ground, clutching her stomach and wailing, “I can’t believe this is happening!” The absurdity of her antics clashed with my suffering, amplifying the tension as I struggled to rise, feeling utterly betrayed by the chaos swirling around me. “Mike, don’t!” I wanted to scream, but the words lodged in my throat as he rushed to Elena’s side, leaving me behind. “If anything happens to Elena, I will never forgive you!” he shouted, his voice echoing in my ears like a death knell. A cold sweat broke out across my skin as pain coursed through me, each pulse feeling like a knife cutting deeper. “I’m even more glad I didn’t have this child,” I thought bitterly, irony and sadness twisting in my chest. “How can a man who doesn’t even love his wife truly love her child?” When I finally made it home, my hands trembled as I reached for my phone, desperate to pour out my resentment and pain. But then I saw it—Elena’s post. The image of Mike’s back loomed like a shadow, the caption cutting deep: “With a man who loves me like this, I feel safe.” Jorge’s comments stung like venom, each word dripping with disdain. “You’ve been with Elena for so many years, and everyone knows you can’t let go, so why don’t you follow your heart?” His sarcastic tone ignited a fire in me, fanning the flames of my anger. I couldn’t hold it back any longer; my fingers flew over the screen as I typed, “We’re getting divorced soon. I can’t believe you’ve been worrying about Mike for all these years.” As I hit send, a surge of satisfaction coursed through me, washing away the weight of unspoken grievances. Then, I opened my Moments and selected two pictures, one of which was a pregnancy report, and the other was a miscarriage report. A complex emotion surged in my heart, and I typed: “Finally I can be free.” At that moment, it seemed that all the repression and pain were released in this sentence.

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My boyfriend won $20 million in the lottery and immediately broke up with me. “Our social classes are different. You’re too low for me.” Then he turned around and hooked up with that girl at work. I laughed. He forgot that lottery ticket was from the previous draw. I rolled down the window of my Maserati and said to them, “You two are way too low for me.” 1 “Let’s break up, Harper Westbrook! I just won $20 million in the lottery.” Chase Collins stood in front of me, his expression smug as he spoke those words. “All because of that?” I asked, looking up at him. “Of course! You’ve probably never even seen that much money, have you? My mom says there are different classes of people. Now that we’ve made it to the top, you and I aren’t on the same level anymore.” I couldn’t help but laugh. $20 million, and they think they’re part of high society? I didn’t even have time to tell him that my dad owns several buildings that rake in more than $20 million in rent every year, not to mention his companies. But it’s fine. Honestly, I was glad to get rid of someone like him. Better to cut ties early. No tears over love, only sleepless nights thinking about money! Chase glanced at me. “By the way, even though you paid for the $50 lottery ticket, I’m the one who bought it. So don’t expect a penny from me.” He’d always had this habit of buying lottery tickets, dreaming of getting rich overnight. But when it came time to pay, he’d always have an excuse—his phone was dead, or his payment wasn’t working. Right, because the bank really cares about a few bucks, right? “My mom doesn’t like you either,” Chase added. “She thinks you’re too tacky. Remember last time you met her? All you gave her were some cheap, no-name gifts. You embarrassed us.” I shot back, “God must’ve spilled wisdom all over the world, but your family held up an umbrella!” I still remember the first time I met his mom. I gave her a pure wool scarf designed by an Italian luxury designer, worth five figures, and a bottle of French court perfume. Now it’s apparently a ‘cheap, no-name gift’ to them. Like a catfish splashing water, suddenly thinking it’s seafood. He continued, “I won’t argue with you because I’m an elite. But since we’re breaking up, let’s settle things. Why don’t you sell back the gifts I gave you?” Typical Chase. Even winning the lottery doesn’t change his stinginess. “No need! I still have all the stuff you gave me! I’ll return every bit of it.” “Your $9.99 skincare set? I was too scared to use it, in case it ruined my skin! “That $19.99 shirt and tie set? I didn’t want to wear it in case I broke out in hives! “And that $10 box of bread? I was worried it’d make me sick, and even the medical bills wouldn’t cover it!” The crowd around us burst into laughter. Chase’s face turned red as he snapped back, “Don’t just bring that up! What about all the money I gave you? Didn’t I send you cash on holidays?” “Sure did.” I nodded, pulling out my phone to check the records. Valentine’s Day: $5.20, Fourth of July: $6.60, Christmas: $8.80… “You’re so thoughtful. So generous!” I laughed. Even my cousin in elementary school gives me more than that. I used to think he was so sweet and attentive that I didn’t care about the little things. But now? Looking back, I must’ve had water on the brain. Enough to fill the entire Lake Michigan! Chase puffed out his chest. “That was the past! Things are different now. I’ve won $20 million! I can buy whatever I want, and you no longer deserve to be with me!” I nodded. “Alright then. In that case, why don’t you return the gifts I gave you?” Chase laughed. “The stuff you gave me? It’s all knockoffs, isn’t it? How much could it be worth?” Chase grew up poor. His dad passed away early, and he and his mom depended on each other. To protect his fragile ego, I always cut the tags off the gifts I gave him, and they didn’t have any flashy logos. “That belt you’re wearing? Gucci, limited edition. $10,000. “Those shoes? C-brand, $15,000. “That jacket? Also C-brand, $30,000.” I listed them off, one by one. Chase’s face fell. “You think I’m an idiot? You couldn’t afford the real thing. You must’ve just bought some knockoffs to fool me!” Right, because he couldn’t tell real from fake. I pulled out my phone. “Here’s the purchase history and receipts. If you don’t believe me, go check with the store.” “And the scarf and perfume I gave your mom? They weren’t any cheaper than the stuff I gave you. But I’ll let that go. Just give me $100,000 for everything else I’ve gifted you.” In reality, I’d spent over $200,000 on him over the years. But if he gave me $200,000, his mom would probably make my life a nightmare. Chase gritted his teeth. “Who knows if what you gave me was real or fake? Let’s call it $50,000. I’ll give you $10,000 now and the rest once I cash in the lottery.” Fine by me. Even though it’s a drop in the bucket compared to my bank balance, who says no to more money? 2 After receiving the $10,000 in my account, I stood up and said to Chase, “Thanks, Chase. That’s the first time you’ve been so generous!” He looked pained but still spat back, “Good. Don’t ever come looking for me again, loser! “And don’t ever try to contact me. I’m afraid your bad luck will mess up my fortune.” I nodded vigorously, making sure he saw me agree. After Chase left, I told my driver to bring my Bentley around from the garage. I’m done pretending. That night, Chase posted on Instagram. There were two photos: one of the lottery ticket, and another of him taking a selfie at the Maserati dealership. The caption read: “Just focus on two things: working hard and loving yourself. Luck will follow you if you smile enough. 😊” I almost gagged on my dinner. As I was about to delete him, something about that lottery ticket caught my eye. The numbers weren’t fully shown, but the draw number was clear: 38

But… the winning numbers for draw 381 didn’t match those! I quickly looked up the results online and realized Chase had mistaken the previous draw’s numbers as the winning ones for his ticket. He probably watched a replay or looked at the wrong draw number, thinking he’d won $20 million! This was about to get interesting. I couldn’t wait to see his face when he learned the truth. 3 Midway through work, I was sneaking a break when I overheard Savannah Moore, the office gold digger, bragging to a coworker. “My boyfriend just moved into Ridgewood Heights.” I froze. What a coincidence. My dad had bought me a place there too, though I rarely stayed. Since Chase worked nearby, I’d given him a key to use the place when he worked late. I told him it was rented. He moved in without a second thought, never considering the rent probably cost more than his monthly salary. I was just thinking about taking back the keys when Savannah said, “He calls me his lucky girl. Ever since we got together, he won $20 million!” Everyone around her gasped with envy. Wait. Ridgewood Heights? $20 million? Could it really be…? I hesitantly asked, “Does your boyfriend happen to be named Chase?” Savannah shot me a wary look. “You know him? Don’t even think about trying to steal him just because he’s rich. He’s way out of your league!” Of course, it was him! Chase had been seeing Savannah while we were still together? Did he really think Savannah was upper-class material? If my dad knew about this, he’d die laughing. Savannah always flaunted fake designer bags, rotating them every day of the week. In Chase’s eyes, someone who couldn’t even tell real from fake, Savannah must’ve looked like a wealthy princess. Talk about a match made in heaven! Two gold diggers, perfect for each other! Best wishes. Please stay together forever. That night, Savannah posted on Instagram, a photo of her and Chase with the caption: “No more waiting. The one I’ve been waiting for is here.” Five minutes later, Chase posted their picture too, with the cringy caption: “Us.” 4 The manager of my favorite luxury store texted me, saying they’d just gotten new stock and invited me to check it out. Since I had nothing better to do, I decided to swing by. As soon as I walked in, there they were: Chase and Savannah. There was only one sales associate in the store. She glanced at me and completely ignored me, continuing to smile and serve them. Savannah was wearing a logo-plastered outfit, even though it was so last season. Meanwhile, I was in a simple t-shirt and carrying a canvas bag. No wonder the saleswoman thought I wasn’t worth her time. Savannah noticed me too. “What kind of people are they letting in this store?” Chase added, “Harper Westbrook, what are you doing here? You can’t afford anything in this store.” I smiled. “Oh? Did your family open this store? I didn’t know I needed permission to look around.” The saleswoman clearly picked up on the tension and sided with them. “I’m sorry, miss, but the lowest-priced item in our store is $30,000. If you can’t afford it, you really shouldn’t waste your time.” I couldn’t help but laugh inside. She had no idea who she was backing. After showing Savannah several bags, I overheard her say to Chase, “Baby, I want this one, and the second one in that row too.” The sales associate beamed. “Oh, you have such good taste, miss! These are our bestsellers. You’ve got a great eye.” Savannah, pleased, slung the bag over her shoulder and admired herself in the mirror. Then she noticed me. “Harper Westbrook, aren’t you embarrassed carrying around that cheap canvas bag? Aren’t you supposed to have a job?” I was carrying a canvas bag because I planned to go grocery shopping later. Gotta think green, you know? Save the planet. I shot back, “What’s wrong with a canvas bag? Does your family live by the sea or something? Why are you so concerned?” Savannah, frustrated, rushed back to Chase. “This one, that one, and the other one—I want them all!” Chase, trying to sound generous, said, “Buy them all!” The saleswoman’s eyes sparkled with glee. I picked up a black handbag, wanting a closer look, when the saleswoman stormed over. “I’m sorry, miss, but this is our latest model. It costs $150,000 and is only available to our VVIP clients. Please don’t touch it—you might get it dirty.” Savannah laughed. “Harper, don’t get your filthy hands on that bag. You couldn’t afford it even if you sold yourself.” I was about to fire back when a sharp voice came from the entrance. 5 “Who said Harper can’t afford it?” The saleswoman panicked. “M-manager, you’re back!” Amanda, the store manager, walked in and immediately apologized to me. “I’m so sorry, Harper. I went to grab your coffee. This new employee didn’t know any better.” She turned to the saleswoman and added, “Harper is one of our VVIP clients. She gets first pick of all new stock. Only after she passes on something can we offer it to other customers.” The saleswoman’s face went pale, and she hurriedly apologized. Chase’s face turned red. “You must be mistaken. Harper is just a regular office worker. How could she be one of your VVIPs? Don’t let her fool you!” The threshold for being a VVIP at this store is spending over $1 million annually. The manager glared at Chase and Savannah. “I’m sorry, but I’ll have to ask you two to leave. We’re closing the store for Harper.” Savannah huffed. “I wouldn’t shop here anyway! My boyfriend has plenty of money. He can buy me anything I want from any store. You’re all fools for falling for some poor girl’s tricks!” She grabbed Chase and stormed out. I turned to Amanda and said, “I’ll take the entire row of bags. Wrap them up for me.” 6 The next day at work, Savannah strutted around the office, showing off a new handbag. She made sure everyone noticed, circling the room several times. It wasn’t cheap—probably around $50,000. I guess Chase wasn’t completely stingy. I just wasn’t worth his effort. “Oh, this is the bag my boyfriend insisted on buying me,” Savannah said. “I didn’t even want it, but he just had to get it for me.” Coworker A: “Your boyfriend treats you so well! When will I get a sweet romance like that?” Coworker B: “Well, Savannah is gorgeous, and she comes from a good family. Of course, her boyfriend would be amazing. It’s all relative.” Bingo. A broke guy and a gold digger—a perfect match. Savannah walked over to me and said, “You can tell how much a man loves a woman by how much he’s willing to spend on her. Chase told me he never spent much on you when you two were together. How sad!” She wasn’t wrong. He used to buy me $9.99 lipsticks, and I’d pretend to be thrilled. Then I’d gift him designer clothes or shoes in return, always downplaying how expensive they were to protect his ego. I replied, “I was too young to know better. At least I’ve gotten rid of the trash now. “Speaking of trash, what brand of garbage bag are you? You seem to carry a lot.” Savannah’s face darkened. “You’re just bitter because you couldn’t keep Chase. He said you two aren’t even in the same league. Turns out, he was right!” 7 That weekend, I called a cleaning service to go to Ridgewood Heights and throw out everything Chase had touched. Just the thought of him using my stuff made my skin crawl. WWhen I got to the building, I tried to use the facial recognition system to unlock the door, but it kept saying “face not recognized.” Strange. Did I lose weight recently or something? Maybe that’s why the system didn’t recognize me? I was still mulling it over when I heard noise coming from inside the apartment.

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Scarlett had an affair with a married man and ended up pregnant. She had no job, no savings, so I tried to convince her not to keep the baby. But she insisted, saying she believed in destiny and that aborting the baby would ruin her karma and affect her future luck. But when the baby was born, she dumped him on me to raise and went off to “see the world.” I spent half my life raising Logan, my nephew, all the way through to his college acceptance. And then, just like that, Scarlett came back! She told Logan, “You don’t know this, but your Aunt Avery kept telling me to get rid of you when I was pregnant. And after you were born, she basically took you from me. You’re my flesh and blood—of course, I love you.” Logan hated me from that day on. One day, Logan got into a car accident. I risked everything to push him out of the way, and I was hit, thrown nearly thirty feet. As I lay dying, the nephew I had raised with so much love cradled my broken body and sneered softly, “You almost didn’t let me exist, then you kept me away from my mother for years, depriving me of her love. This life and whatever insurance payout you’ve left me—consider it your penance.” A bright white light engulfed me, taking me back to the day Scarlett knocked on my door, her belly just beginning to show. I opened my eyes to see her sitting in front of me, crying as she asked, “Avery, I have no one else. Should I keep this baby or not?” I pulled a coin from my pocket and placed it in her hand. “Sis, you believe in destiny, don’t you? Let the universe guide you—flip it.”

Scarlett stared at the coin, utterly dumbfounded. She looked at me like I’d lost my mind. Because she knew me well. She knew I was tough on the outside but soft on the inside. She expected me to beg her not to have the baby. But if she chose to keep it, she knew I wouldn’t be able to turn away. I’d get attached to the baby, and once I did, she’d use the guilt of me telling her to abort to manipulate me into doing everything for her. She’d done it before. Many times. We were only a year apart, and when our parents died young, we had to rely on the kindness of relatives and my scholarships to get by. I knew education was the only way to change my fate, so aside from working weekends and holidays, I spent every waking minute studying. My hard work paid off. I always scored at the top of my class and received so many scholarships that the money was enough to cover both Scarlett’s and my living expenses. But Scarlett wasn’t like me. She loved reading romance novels and fantasized about being the heroine in some rich love story. She only went to school to scope out guys she could settle down with—potential “success stories,” she called them. When she realized her grades would never get her into college, she decided to start working early, dreaming of being discovered by some rich executive at the office. “Avery, with my grades, do you think it’s even worth staying in school? I feel like I should just start working and save some money instead…” Given our circumstances, I agreed. It made sense at the time. That one word—“yes”—would come back to haunt me for the rest of my life. She couldn’t find a good job and started blaming me, saying if I had pushed her to stay in school, at least she’d have a diploma. She couldn’t find a decent man and blamed me again, saying if I hadn’t convinced her to drop out, maybe she wouldn’t have been looked down on for her lack of education. I felt guilty, so I worked part-time while going to college, supporting her the whole way through. I didn’t even dare date anyone in college because every break, I’d be working myself to the bone to make sure she was comfortable. It wasn’t until much later that I realized she’d taken the money I earned and borrowed loans to buy luxury brands, playing the part of a high-class woman to attract men. Time and time again, she’d trick me into stepping into these traps, and then use emotional blackmail to manipulate me. She’d been doing it ever since we were kids. But in my past life, I cared too much about the bond of family to see the truth. I let her control me willingly. After I died, my soul floated above, watching as the truth played out in front of me. The car accident wasn’t an accident at all—it was orchestrated by Scarlett and Logan, betting that I would die for the nephew I had raised. They took the life insurance money, claimed my house as their own… and when my ashes were finally returned to them, they tossed the urn into the trash. As the memories of my previous life flashed before me, the pain and bitterness I felt were unbearable. All I wanted was another chance to destroy them both. Fortunately, the universe had other plans. I was reborn.

“Scarlett, flip it! Why aren’t you flipping it? Don’t tell me you don’t believe in destiny?” I waved a hand in front of her face to snap her out of it. She awkwardly picked up the coin, muttering, “Fine. Destiny, give me a sign. Heads, I keep the baby; tails, I don’t.” The coin spun in the air, landed, and flipped over—heads. “Well, looks like destiny wants you to keep the baby! So go ahead and have it.” Before, Scarlett had been working at Mr. Leonard Blackwood’s antique shop when she got involved with him, a married man. He was a smooth talker, convincing her to believe in destiny, using it to manipulate her. He tricked her into buying all these statues and trinkets that supposedly needed to be “blessed” or “worshipped.” She spent her entire paycheck on those things. And she borrowed from me constantly. Well, she called it borrowing—I knew she’d never pay me back. Now, she was pregnant, and Leonard told her his wife had found out, so she needed to leave the apartment he had rented for her. “But if I have the baby, where will we stay?” Scarlett’s eyes roamed greedily around my house, her tone turning pitiful. This house was the one Ethan and I had bought together, our future home. In my last life, Scarlett insisted on keeping the baby, guilted me into letting her stay, and that decision led to disaster. I was blinded by my sense of duty and agreed to help her. That was the beginning of the end. So, this time, I had to stop it right at the source. “That’s easy. Mom and Dad’s old cottage in Bluegrass is still empty. And just last week, Aunt Rachel called me. She opened a little corner market and needs help running it. You can stay at the old house, help her out, and earn some money. You’ll have a place to stay and a way to support yourself. Who knows? Maybe if you have a son, Leonard will come back and treat you like a queen.” Scarlett looked at me like I had suddenly changed into a different person, full of suspicion, but also thinking that what I was saying made sense. Before she could start overthinking it, I quickly called Aunt Rachel and made the arrangements. Now all I had to do was wait for Ethan to get off work and drive her back to Kentucky. “But I still feel like…” Scarlett hesitated. “Don’t worry. Don’t you think this is destiny’s way of showing you the path? Everything happens for a reason, and it’s all part of a bigger plan. Just follow it,” I quickly reassured her, shutting down any doubts she had. After all, in my past life, this was exactly how she had manipulated me. She moved into my house with that pregnant belly and caused complete chaos, single-handedly wrecking the relationship I had with Ethan’s family. In the end, Ethan and I broke up, he moved out, but left the house to me. Before leaving, Scarlett had the audacity to pat my shoulder and say, “Don’t worry, this is destiny’s plan. It’s just showing you that Ethan isn’t the right man for you.” After Ethan moved out, she immediately complained that the guest room was too uncomfortable because of her pregnancy and took over my master bedroom. This time, I wasn’t going to let that happen. No way was I going to lose the man I loved and the future I deserved to these two ungrateful wolves ever again. And I certainly wasn’t going to give up the love and support of the mother-in-law who treated me like her own daughter.

After I dropped Scarlett off at the old family cottage, I immediately dragged Ethan to the courthouse to get our marriage license. Ethan held the license in disbelief. “Honey, slap me. Am I dreaming?” This fool. In my previous life, after we broke up, he never married anyone else. He stayed single. When he heard about my death, he couldn’t even find my grave. He took my old coat, the only thing of mine still at his place, and made a little memorial out of it, talking to it every day like I was still there. Earlier, with Scarlett around, I had to keep my emotions in check. But now that she was gone, I broke down, clinging to Ethan. “You’re not dreaming. I’m the one who had a nightmare. But I’m awake now.” I told Ethan a little bit about my past life. He didn’t believe me at first. So I told him, in a few days, his company would send him on a business trip to Savannah. No matter what, he needed to go. In my previous life, after Scarlett moved in, Ethan’s mom came to visit us. While we were out, Scarlett snooped through our bedroom drawers, and his mom caught her. They argued, and Scarlett, being pregnant, wasn’t backing down. She pushed Ethan’s mom, and she hit her head on the corner of a table. Ethan had to stay and take care of his mom, missing out on a business trip that would have secured him a huge contract and a promotion. The colleague who went instead got that contract and spent the next twenty years climbing higher and higher while Ethan was stuck in a rut. Sure enough, three days after Ethan’s mom arrived, he was notified about the Savannah trip. This time, without Scarlett around to cause trouble, Ethan’s mom and I got along perfectly. Nothing interfered with his trip. Ethan finally believed me about my rebirth. He always listened to me before, but now, he was practically hanging on my every word. Just as we returned from the airport after dropping Ethan off, Scarlett was standing at the door with her suitcase. “Avery! You’re finally back!” “I have to tell you, Aunt Rachel’s cooking is terrible. I’m so used to your cooking!” “And her store? She wants me to wake up at nine in the morning. You know I’m pregnant—I can’t get up that early!” “Seriously, how do you expect me to live like this, huh?” The moment Scarlett stepped into the house, she started her endless complaints, nagging non-stop until she noticed the guest room—the one she used to stay in—was now filled with Mrs. Florence Caldwell’s things. She finally stopped talking and turned to me. “What’s going on here?” “Oh! Sis, I was just about to call you. Ethan and I got our marriage license! And Mom has already moved in with us.” I smiled as I took Mrs. Caldwell’s hand. Scarlett froze for a moment, clearly stunned. She had spent so long trying to brainwash me, convincing me that everyone from my in-laws’ side, especially my future mother-in-law, was an outsider. She always warned me that getting too close to them would only bring bad luck. And now, here I was, living with my mother-in-law. Scarlett gave me a look that screamed, “Have you lost your mind?” She didn’t even bother to greet Mrs. Caldwell before dragging me into another room to talk in private. “Avery, are you even listening to anything I’ve ever told you? Didn’t I warn you that Ethan’s mom is nothing but trouble? And now you’ve actually let her move in with you? Are you trying to drive me insane? And what about this house? There are only two bedrooms—if she’s staying in one, where am I supposed to stay?” I raised a finger to my lips. “Shh…” I gestured for her to follow me to the window seat where I had set up a little altar with a small jade Universal God statue I had bought for thirty bucks online. “Sis, keep it down. Don’t disturb the God …” “What the…?” Scarlett stared at me, bewildered. After all those years of her trying to brainwash me, I had always resisted this kind of superstition. I’d often tell her not to waste her money on these things. Now, all of a sudden, I looked like a devout believer. “Sis, you don’t understand. It’s because of you and your belief in destiny that I’ve been blessed. Destiny came to me in a dream and told me that Ethan is my perfect match, but only if he lives with his mother to fulfill his duty. That’s the only way we’ll ever achieve real success.” “Guess what? Ever since I followed that guidance and moved Mrs. Caldwell in, Ethan’s been sent to Savannah to negotiate a multimillion-dollar deal. If it goes through, his promotion is guaranteed. And we’ll even be able to afford a bigger house—three bedrooms!” “Sure, his mom is a bit of a handful, but hey, she’s basically our ticket to fortune! But, sis, you’re pregnant, and I wouldn’t want you to be uncomfortable here.” “Besides, I heard Mrs. Blackwood is still looking for you. You gave this address on your job application, right? If she shows up here, all your hard work could go down the drain.” “You should stay at the old family cottage for now. Once things settle down, I’ll bring you back.” As I painted the picture of a bright, successful future, Scarlett’s previously dull eyes lit up with excitement. She was convinced that if Ethan succeeded, it meant she’d be in for a windfall too. When we walked back into the living room, she was practically beaming at Mrs. Caldwell, addressing her with overly sweet “Auntie this” and “Auntie that.” Poor Mrs. Caldwell, who had no idea what had just transpired, stood there, completely confused. The truth is, Mrs. Caldwell wasn’t hard to take care of at all. She treated me better than my own mother ever had. I thought back to my previous life and how I had sided with Scarlett so many times, letting Mrs. Caldwell down repeatedly. Even when Ethan and I broke up, and he left me the house he had put the down payment on, she didn’t oppose it. The guilt I felt was overwhelming. After I got Scarlett out of the house, I took Mrs. Caldwell on a much-needed shopping spree. We’d always lived so frugally that it felt good to spoil her a little. “You two just got married. You’re going to need money for so many things. Don’t waste it on me…” she protested. “Don’t worry, Mom. Ethan and I are both moving up in our careers. Money won’t be an issue. But next year, we’ll need to head out of town for work. While we’re gone, you’ll need to watch over the house and make sure no one gets in.” At this point, Mrs. Caldwell hadn’t yet realized the full extent of Scarlett’s antics. But based on our past interactions, she knew I had always been the type to put my sister first, what some might call a “sibling servant.” She had tried to talk to Ethan about it many times. Now that I had finally come to my senses, Mrs. Caldwell was relieved. She told us not to worry and assured us that she’d take good care of the house. Before long, just as I predicted, Ethan successfully closed the deal in Savannah. The company didn’t hesitate to promote him, though the new position required him to spend a year at their Savannah branch. Without a second thought, I applied for a transfer to our company’s Savannah office as well, ensuring we’d stay together. Not only would this prevent our relationship from suffering due to the distance, but it also conveniently allowed me to avoid Scarlett’s constant pestering for a while. There was another reason too. From my memories of my previous life, I knew that in a few months, the new industrial park in Savannah would need supplies. In my past life, the deal had fallen into the lap of an unqualified receptionist who didn’t even know how to leverage it. This time, I was prepared. I had all my materials ready, and before they even started looking for suppliers, I was already reaching out, building connections with the procurement team. I even got the proposal pre-approved by my company. Opportunity favors the prepared, and sure enough, a few months later, I secured the deal. The seven-figure commission hit my account just as expected. During that time, Scarlett kept trying to get in touch with me, but I used the “destiny” excuse to dodge her every time. Aunt Rachel would call me now and then, saying Scarlett was still acting crazy, spending all her money on statues and Universal God figurines. She wouldn’t eat, wouldn’t take care of herself, and just kept offering things up, hoping destiny would treat her the way it had treated me. Months later, when destiny didn’t deliver, and things kept getting worse for her, she snapped and burned all her statues in a fit of rage. After that, when she found out we had left for Savannah, she decided to sneak back to our house, thinking she could just slip in. But when she opened the door, there was Mrs. Caldwell, sitting at the table with Ethan’s two aunts, Violet and June, playing cards. Mrs. Caldwell was sharp. She had worked as a high-level manager for a national company before retiring, known in her younger days as a no-nonsense, iron-willed woman. In my past life, out of love for me, she had tolerated Scarlett’s antics so I could focus on my job. She had squeezed into the tiny two-foot entryway, sleeping on a makeshift bed. Scarlett had constantly tormented her, trying every trick in the book to drive her away. Mrs. Caldwell endured it all for my sake, never wanting to cause me any trouble. But this time, with my full blessing, Mrs. Caldwell fought back. Scarlett didn’t stand a chance. She failed every time and couldn’t even get past the front door. And just like that, a year passed. Ethan’s internship was completed, and with my outstanding performance, I applied to return to headquarters to take on a leadership role. Scarlett, however, must have caught wind of something. She was waiting on my doorstep with a three-month-old Logan in her arms, ready to stir up trouble once again…

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