Author: Momo Chan

Because of their business, my parents sent me to live with my Grandma Sarah in rural Kentucky, and they didn’t bring me back until I was eight. Dad told me to be more obedient and sensible, while Mom warned me not to use “tricks that won’t get you anywhere in life.” My sister Amanda made it clear I wasn’t worthy of touching her princess dress, and my brother Eric outright said I shouldn’t have come back at all. Finally, on my nineteenth birthday, I left that house just as they wanted. But then, they regretted it. They begged me to come home, and I just shook the hand I was holding onto. “Sorry, but I’ve found a new family.” By the time I returned to the Grant Family Mansion in Chicago, it was already dark. Apart from the security guard at the front, no one noticed my arrival. My family was enjoying dinner together in the dining room, laughing and chatting like nothing had changed. I opened the door to my room. I had been staying in the dorms at the University of Illinois for the past month, and no one had cleaned here. A thin layer of dust covered everything. I wasn’t surprised. I pulled out some tissues from my bag and wiped down the chair and desk before sitting down. Then, I took out the medical report from my bag. The words “tumor” stared back at me. Suddenly, an overwhelming wave of exhaustion hit me, a weariness that had been buried deep inside for so long. Now it was all crashing over me, suffocating me. The smell of dinner wafted in from the dining room, but all I felt was nausea. My name is Jessica Grant, the third child of the Grant family, the “new money” family in Chicago. But my position in the family has always been awkward. Unlike my older sister Amanda and my older brother Eric, who grew up with my parents, I was raised by my grandmother in rural Kentucky. Grandma Sarah didn’t care much for me. She made sure I had clothes to wear and food to eat, but beyond that, she was hands-off. When she had money, she’d go play Bingo, and when she lost, she’d take it out on me, shouting and berating me. Every time that happened, Aunt Karen, our neighbor, would come over and stop Grandma. She’d take me to her house and comfort me, just like a mom would in those TV shows. When I was eight, the Grants finally brought me back. On the car ride home, I couldn’t stop thinking—would my mom be as kind and gentle as Aunt Karen? But I was just a child then, too young to realize that if the Grants had truly cared about me, they wouldn’t have just sent a driver to pick me up. I’ll never forget my first day at the Grant Mansion. I stood there in the grand, elegant foyer, awkwardly tugging at a dress that didn’t fit right. I’ll also never forget how cold my mother’s gestures were and the way she looked at me, as if I were a burden. For over a decade, I tried so hard to win their approval, because I envied them. I wanted them to love me the way they loved each other. When I first received the diagnosis, it didn’t even register. The doctor’s words buzzed in my ears, but I couldn’t process them. The doctor, noticing my young age, suggested I call my family so we could discuss it together. It was like waking from a dream. I took out my phone and called my mother. The phone rang for what felt like an eternity before going to voicemail. I swallowed, then tried calling my father. This time, the call was immediately declined. I felt like a robot as I tried dialing another number, but then my mother called back. I was so relieved when I answered, but the voice that came through wasn’t what I expected. “Stop calling so much. If you have something to say, text me. Your father and I are busy.” I didn’t know how to respond. Before I could say anything, she added, “And don’t call your brother or sister. They’re busy with important things.” Then the line went dead, and all I could hear was the beeping of the phone. I opened Instagram and scrolled through my brother Eric’s latest post. It was a picture of the four of them at a company event, smiling with the caption, “Family of four at the grand opening! Yay!” It was in that moment I realized: all my efforts, everything I had done to win them over, had been meaningless. Maybe we were never supposed to be a family in the first place. The doctor must have seen the look on my face, because he gave me a sympathetic smile. I forced a weak one back and told him I’d come back tomorrow. I made up my mind. I’d go back to the mansion, pack up my things, and leave. That place wasn’t my home. I sat in the chair for a moment, taking a deep breath before I started packing. Most of the things were mine anyway, things I had bought myself. It didn’t take long to pack up my suitcase. The only inconvenience was running into Eric on my way out. He raised an eyebrow at my suitcase, just like he always did. “What, you’re back? Going back to school already?” I nodded, trying to brush past him without engaging. He didn’t understand why I was being so cold. Normally, I’d be calling him ‘big brother’ and begging for his attention. Searching his memory, he thought he found the answer. “What’s your problem?” he said irritably. “We were busy this afternoon. That’s why we didn’t pick up the phone.” “I’m not mad,” I replied, gripping the handle of my suitcase tighter. I didn’t want to argue. I just wanted to leave. At that moment, Dad came over, noticing the tension between us. “What’s going on here?” he asked, frowning. “Nothing,” Eric said lazily, stepping toward Dad. My father scolded him lightly for not showing respect, but it was more indulgent than harsh. “She’s just having a little tantrum. Wants to run away from home, that’s all.” It wasn’t until then that Dad really looked at me, his eyes moving to the suitcase in my hand. His expression darkened. “If you leave, don’t bother coming back,” he said. And just like that, Amanda appeared, looking as put together and impatient as always in her tailored suit. “If you’re going to leave, then leave,” she said, her tone as cold as Eric’s. Amanda had never liked me. In her eyes, I was beneath the Grant family, too small-minded, too unpolished to belong. I checked my phone. My Uber had arrived. I nodded to the three of them and walked out, pulling my suitcase behind me. Leaving the Grant family wasn’t as hard as I thought it would be.

I didn’t go back to my dorm. It was too late, and the doors would be locked by now. Instead, I booked a room at a nearby hotel and crashed for the night. At some point, my roommate Amy called to ask how my medical tests went and if I was planning to come back to the dorm. I brushed off the first question and laughed, “Nah, it’s too late to head back now.” She wasn’t fully convinced, but she let it go after making me promise to text her in the morning. My mom also texted me, telling me that we’d have to “discuss my attitude” when I came home for break. I blocked her number. The hotel bed was cold, but it was also comfortable. I blocked the rest of the Grant family’s numbers too, then pulled the covers over my head and fell into a deep sleep. In my dream, I was eight years old again, meeting Amanda for the first time. She was so beautiful in her princess dress, and I wanted to talk to her, but she walked away without a word. It was like that for the next few days. I didn’t dare approach her directly, so I just followed from a distance. “Mom!” I saw Amanda run into our mother’s arms from the crack in the door. The way Mom smiled at her was nothing like the look she had given me on my first day at the mansion. Amanda pouted, “Jessica keeps trying to touch my clothes. I don’t want her to.” “She’s not allowed to touch my dresses,” Amanda added. Mom didn’t say anything, just patted Amanda’s head. Eric stood nearby, sulking. “She shouldn’t have come back. Why did you even bring her back, Mom?” “There was no choice,” Mom sighed. “Your grandma is sick.” I woke up in a cold sweat, sunlight streaming through the hotel window. I wiped my forehead and checked my phone. It was already the next morning. As I brushed my teeth, I stared at my reflection in the mirror. Details from the dream flashed through my mind. I realized I had never forgotten those things; I had just buried them deep inside. Amanda and Eric had done well in school and gone off to top universities overseas. I didn’t want to disappoint my parents, so I studied hard and got into a good local college. Honestly, I preferred literature, but since my brother and sister chose science, I followed their path. My mother knew I was staying up late to study. She never encouraged me, just said, “Don’t bother trying to compete with your brother and sister.” Eric laughed when he found out. “You worked this hard and only got into that school?” I knocked on my head, trying to shake off the thoughts. When I arrived at the school office, the counselor noticed how pale I looked. “Not sleeping well?” he asked. “A little.” I wasn’t as strong as I used to be, especially after my diagnosis. I handed him the paperwork I had prepared. “I’m going to take some time off.” He glanced over the medical file and gave me the same look of sympathy the doctor had. As he signed the forms, he asked, “Do your parents know?” “They know.” I didn’t want to talk about it. Luckily, he didn’t press the issue. Before I left, he reminded me that my classmates would be waiting for me when I returned. To be honest, I hadn’t spent much time with my classmates this past year. They probably wouldn’t even remember my name. As I packed up my things from the dorm, my roommates came by to help. One of the more outgoing girls hesitated for a while before asking, “Is it because of your health?” “I overheard your conversation with the counselor…” Another one joined in, and soon three pairs of eyes were fixed on me. There was nothing to hide. I nodded and admitted it. One of them immediately teared up. “Hey, it’s not a big deal. I’m not dying anytime soon.” I laughed, trying to lighten the mood. I hadn’t known these girls for long, but their concern was already more than what I’d received from the Grant family. “Don’t say that!” one of them cried, putting her hand over my mouth. “That’s bad luck.” I promised to stay in touch, and the three of them helped carry my bags to the gate, tears still streaming down their faces. Why had I spent so long trying to earn the love of the Grants? I had saved up money to buy expensive gifts, memorized their favorite meals, and been their go-to listener when they were stressed. I tried so hard to be part of their world. But in just one year, my roommates had shown me more care than I’d ever received from my family. As I stood there, my phone buzzed again. It was my father’s secretary calling, but before he could even finish his sentence, I hung up. How could I have forgotten? My father never called me directly. Anything he needed was always passed through his secretary. I went through my phone again and deleted every contact related to the Grants. The doctor had recommended I go to Houston Medical Center, where they were better equipped to handle my type of tumor. I didn’t want to die just yet. That night, I booked a flight to Houston. The next day, with my diagnosis in hand, I flew to Houston alone and checked into the hospital. At Houston Medical Center, I underwent another round of tests. The tumor had spread, but it was still within manageable limits. They scheduled chemotherapy before surgery. Compared to others in the hospital, I was lucky. I had the money I’d saved over the years, and there was a good chance I could beat this cancer. From down the hall, I heard a woman’s anguished screams. The sound made me snap back to reality. Next to me sat a small girl, pale but with bright, curious eyes. She heard the crying too and instinctively scooted closer to me. The woman, disheveled with one shoe missing, burst into the exam room, grabbing the doctor by his collar. “Give me back my son’s life!” she screamed, her voice thick with sobs, acting like a madwoman.

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Mrs. Miller pointed at my nose and said that I was trash, and her son was the only one who didn’t mind. Mr. Miller made it clear: if I was pregnant with a boy, they’d be willing to take me in. But if it was a girl, there was no way they’d let me marry into the family. I laughed. “Didn’t you want a grandson? Go look for one underground.” John and I had been dating for three years. We were introduced through our families. The person who introduced us said that John was honest, decent-looking, and his character was outstanding. I met him, and sure enough, he spoke well and wasn’t unattractive. After spending some time together, I found he was quite considerate, so I agreed to start dating him. For the past three years, John treated me well. He had plenty of flaws, but none that I couldn’t tolerate. What I couldn’t stand was how much he listened to his mom. If she told him what time to get up, he wouldn’t sleep a minute longer. But he promised me that he’d work on breaking that habit. After three years, both of our families arranged to meet and discuss marriage. I thought about it and agreed—it was time to settle down. But just a month after we got engaged, I found out I was pregnant. I stared at the two lines on the pregnancy test, lost in thought. We’d been careful all these years, never had any accidents. I told John about it, and he was thrilled. But his excitement didn’t seem like the joy of someone about to become a father. “I’ve got to call my parents right away,” he said. I nodded, not thinking much of it. It made sense to tell his parents, so I picked up my phone, unsure how to break the news to mine. Even though we were already engaged, we hadn’t officially gotten married yet, and none of the wedding details had been finalized. Meanwhile, John had already called his parents. The first thing he said was, “Mom, Olivia is pregnant. We’re expecting.” His mother immediately responded with a sigh of relief, “Finally, it happened.”

What did she mean by “finally”? I stared at John, confused. He looked flustered and quickly said into the phone, “Mom, Olivia is right here.” He was video chatting with his parents, so I didn’t say anything. When he hung up, I asked, “What did your mom mean by ‘finally’?” John wrapped his arm around my waist with a laugh. “What do you think she meant? She’s just happy. She’s been waiting for a grandkid, that’s all.” His words stung a little. I pushed his arm away. “It’s not necessarily a boy. What if it’s a girl? Is that a problem?” John realized his mistake and quickly tried to comfort me. “Of course not! Boys, girls—they’re all the same. Honestly, it’d be perfect if we had one of each.” Something about the situation didn’t sit right with me, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. Later, when John went to make dinner, I called my parents to tell them the news. They were a little surprised, but after thinking it over, they didn’t scold me. After all, we were already engaged, and the wedding was just a matter of time. They only told us to come home and finalize the wedding details quickly. “You don’t want to be walking down the aisle with a big belly,” my mom said. I understood what they meant. It wouldn’t look good in front of all the relatives. When I talked it over with John, he was hesitant. He made excuses about not being able to take time off and how he was busy with a work project. John was just a regular employee—nothing so urgent that he couldn’t leave for a few days. Besides, what company doesn’t allow time off for a wedding? John kept delaying, and by the time we finally went home, three months had passed. By then, I was already four months pregnant. But because I was skinny and it was winter, no one could really tell. That night, my mom sat next to me, looking concerned. “John didn’t want to come back earlier—do you think they might be planning to reduce the dowry?” I was confused. “What do you mean?” She glanced at my belly. “You’re pregnant now. Do you think they’re trying to use that as an excuse to offer less?” I thought about it. An $8,800 dowry didn’t seem unreasonable, and John’s family wasn’t exactly poor. Besides, I was bringing a dowry of my own into the marriage. “Don’t worry, John isn’t like that.” My mom nodded, but the worry didn’t leave her eyes. That night, as I lay in bed, I couldn’t stop thinking about how John had delayed our trip home for so long. Now that I was four months along and could no longer get an abortion, he was suddenly in a rush to return. Why? Could my mom be right? Were they trying to avoid paying the dowry? The next morning, John and his parents came over to discuss the wedding. They walked in with an air of superiority, and I frowned slightly. Mrs. Miller nodded at me, her eyes filled with a mix of arrogance and satisfaction. “How’s the baby, Olivia?” “I’m fine,” I replied, sitting next to my parents and saying nothing more. Mr. Miller cleared his throat and started talking. “We all know Olivia is pregnant. Now, we’re a well-educated family, and frankly, we don’t approve of girls who get pregnant before marriage.”

I couldn’t believe my ears. His father actually said that. My dad, who had always been protective of me, couldn’t stay quiet. “That’s a little harsh, don’t you think?” Mr. Miller gave a cold laugh. “It may be harsh, but it’s the truth.” I looked at John. He was sitting next to his mother, head down, avoiding my gaze. “Let’s cut to the chase,” I said. “What are you really trying to say?” Mr. Miller glared at me. “The $8,800 dowry we talked about? We’re not paying it. But we expect you to provide the wedding gifts.” He glanced at my belly. “After all, we’re taking a risk here. We don’t even know if that baby is truly a Miller.” His words made my blood boil. My parents were furious as well, barely able to contain their anger. “John,” I said, turning to him, “is this how you feel too?” He finally lifted his head and met my eyes, speaking softly, “I listen to my parents.” I laughed bitterly. “Great. Just great.” My mom grabbed my arm, trying to calm me down. “How could you say something so disgusting?” she snapped at them. “If you’re so short on money, just say so. You don’t have to insult my daughter like this.” My dad was gripping the table in anger. Mrs. Miller wasn’t backing down. “It’s not an insult. Your daughter did this, so it’s only natural for people to talk.” I shot up from my chair. “I didn’t do this alone! Your son is involved, and you don’t seem to be blaming him for anything!” “John!” I shouted, glaring at the man sitting in the corner. “Say something right now, in front of both our families. Was I the one who forced you to get me pregnant? If that’s what you think, I’ll turn myself in right now.” John stood up shakily, looking between me and his parents. “No, no, of course not. You know that’s not true.” I turned to Mrs. Miller. “Did you hear that?” She didn’t seem fazed. “Well, John is a boy. It’s different for him.” “How is it different? He’s not a human being like I am?” Mrs. Miller stood up, pointing her finger at me, ready to yell, but my dad stepped in between us. “This is my house,” he said firmly. “If you don’t intend to marry Olivia, then leave.” Mr. and Mrs. Miller sneered and laughed. “Fine, we’ll go. But don’t come crawling to us later.” “Hmph.” John hesitated at the door, glancing back at me nervously, but I shot him a look that made him lower his head and leave. As soon as they were gone, my mom started crying. “What are we going to do now?” I looked at my parents, who were being dragged into this mess because of me, and my heart ached. But I held back my tears. Now was not the time to cry. If I broke down, my parents would only worry more. “Don’t worry, Mom and Dad. I’ll go get an abortion tomorrow.”

My mom immediately protested. “No, you can’t! I’ve heard that getting an abortion this far along can harm your body. You might not be able to have kids again.” I sat down, trying to stay calm. “I’ll go to the hospital and talk to the doctor. If I can’t get an abortion, I’ll have the baby and raise it myself.” My dad sighed. “We can talk to the Millers again tomorrow. If they don’t want to pay the dowry, that’s fine. We don’t need their money.” With that, he went back into the house. My mom held my hand tightly. “Your father has always been a proud man. He’s just upset. Once he calms down, we’ll talk to the Millers again.” That night, no matter how many messages John sent me, I didn’t reply. I tossed and turned, unable to sleep until dawn. When I finally woke up, my mom was the only one in the kitchen, making breakfast. Then I remembered—my dad had said he’d go to the Millers’ house last night. It was already noon, and he still wasn’t back. “Don’t worry,” my mom said, trying to reassure me. “If things didn’t go well, he would’ve come home by now.” But I couldn’t shake the anxiety. What if they were giving my dad a hard time? “I’m going to find him,” I said, grabbing my coat. Just as I opened the door, I saw my dad standing there. His face was full of worry, but when he saw me, he forced a smile. “Where are you off to?” “Dad, why were you gone so long? Did they give you trouble?” He hesitated before answering, “No, no trouble. Just talking about the wedding.” My mom hurried over. “So? What did they say?” My dad closed his eyes and let out a heavy sigh. “They said we have to wait until Olivia gives birth. If it’s a boy, then they’ll agree to the marriage.” “What?” My mom and I both shouted in unison. “This is outrageous,” my mom fumed, throwing her dish towel on the floor. “Do they think their son is a god or something?” I felt dizzy, my vision going black for a moment. How could everything I’d dreamed of—the wedding, the marriage—turn into this nightmare? I wobbled on my feet, and my mom rushed over to steady me. “Olivia, should we go to the hospital?” I suddenly remembered what John and his mother had said that day—finally pregnant. So this had all been part of their plan from the start.

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On the day of my son’s welcome-home dinner, he brought back a girl. She opened her mouth and called me: “Mom!” I had to laugh—I don’t recall ever having a daughter this grown! My son, Michael Thompson, had been abroad for two years, and upon returning, he gave me quite the surprise. “Hi, Mom, I’m Tiffany Greene, Michael’s girlfriend.” Well now, where did this daughter suddenly come from? Michael and Tiffany were holding hands, eagerly waiting for my response. What could I say? Setting aside Tiffany’s manners for a moment, that “Mom” carried a bit of calculation. “Oh, son, I’ve missed you so much!” Tiffany looked a bit embarrassed, tugging at Michael’s sleeve awkwardly. “Mom, Tiffany was greeting you. You could at least acknowledge her.” I gave him an innocent look. “Oh dear, I must have missed that. Tiffany, was it? You’re quite the beauty, no wonder you managed to get my blockhead of a son to open up!” “Mom!” I smiled. “What? Haven’t you embarrassed yourself enough when you were younger? Besides, Tiffany’s your girlfriend, what’s there to hide? Stop being so stingy.” Tiffany quickly stepped in, trying hard to appease me. “Mom’s right, we’re family now. Michael, don’t talk to your mom like that.” Michael, the obedient boy that he is, immediately apologized. “I’m sorry, Mom.” It would’ve been better if he didn’t. They aren’t even married yet, and he’s already letting his girlfriend boss him around. It broke my heart. Tiffany affectionately grabbed my wrist, but her eyes couldn’t help but flicker toward the emerald necklace around my neck. “Mom, your necklace is gorgeous! It must’ve been expensive. My mother never dares to buy anything this fancy. You must be really lucky.” I had no idea what Michael saw in Tiffany. After raising him for twenty years, he’d become a naive romantic. I can afford jewelry if I want. And here she was, barely in the door, already lecturing me on how to spend my money. Of course, Michael, being the romantic that he is, jumped to her defense. “You’re right, Mom. Even though we’re well-off, we shouldn’t be wasting money like this.” I smirked and gave Tiffany a sharp look. For some reason, I sensed a hint of challenge in her eyes. “So, Miss Greene, what does your family do?” Tiffany responded, “My father is a department head at Skyline Corporation, and my mom runs her own flower shop.” I shot back, “And do you know what Michael’s father does?” Tiffany gazed admiringly at Michael. “Michael told me his dad is the Vice President of Skyline Corporation. I always thought Michael was just average, but after seeing you, I realize he’s been way too humble.” Ha! I can’t imagine what my husband would think of suddenly having such a “daughter.” I glanced at Michael. At least he hadn’t spilled all our family secrets yet. Since that was the case, I didn’t bother correcting her. “Michael, why don’t you show Miss Greene around?” “Oh, and Miss Greene, Michael’s father and I haven’t prepared the family blessing gift just yet, so for now, you can just call me Mrs. Thompson.” Tiffany pursed her lips. My darling son couldn’t stand to see his girlfriend feeling uncomfortable and threw me a wounded look. Well, great. That almost made me want to disown him right then and there. Today, the people who came were all among New York City’s elite. Tiffany clearly felt out of place, clinging to Michael like a shadow. “Michael, are you sure your family is just average? All these people are dressed to the nines. And your mom’s necklace—it must be worth millions.” “Oh, way more than that. None of my mom’s jewelry is worth less than a million.” Tiffany looked shocked, like she was starting to understand the situation. She asked hesitantly, “Did your mom not like me earlier? Is it because I’m not from a wealthy family? Maybe she thinks I’m beneath you.” As she spoke, tears streamed down her face. Michael, being the hopeless romantic he is, felt his heart break. “Don’t overthink it. My mom’s really open-minded.” Yes, but that’s only when the other person is straightforward and genuine.

Michael and Tiffany made their rounds and returned to my side. This time, Tiffany seemed to have learned her lesson. Her words were full of compliments about my looks and how smart Michael was. Unfortunately for her, I wasn’t buying it. “Miss Greene, have Michael take you home soon. I’ve prepared some health supplements for your parents. Where do you live?” “I’ll thank you on behalf of my parents. We live nearby, at Greenwood Apartments.” Ah, “Apartments”—just regular, modest housing. “Alright, I won’t keep you two. Michael, take good care of Miss Greene and make sure she gets home safely.” “Don’t worry, Mom.” Look at that big smile on my son’s face. It’s exhausting. Later that night, as soon as my husband, Mr. Thompson, walked in, I pulled him into the bedroom before he could even take off his shoes. “Honey, what’s going on?” I sat on the bed, furious, and threw a picture of Tiffany at him. “Look at this girl. Are you satisfied?” Mr. Thompson was so shocked, he immediately dropped the photo and fell to his knees. “Honey, I swear I didn’t cheat! I’ve never even seen this girl!” … Michael must’ve inherited his brains from his father. “What nonsense are you talking about? That’s the girl Michael brought home!” “Oh, oh! Well, she looks too clever—definitely not as cute as you, dear.” I kicked him playfully, and he caught my foot, grinning cheekily. “Enough with the jokes. I’m telling you, you need to stop Michael from marrying this girl. She hasn’t even moved in yet and she’s already turning him against me.” “This is serious! Michael must’ve lost his mind.” As we were talking, the door opened, and Michael walked in. “Dad, Mom.” Mr. Thompson didn’t say a word. He walked right up to Michael. “Break up with that girl right now. Your mom and I will never approve of you two being together.” Michael froze, turning to look at me. And the words he said broke my heart. “Tiffany was right. Mom, you just don’t like her. If you don’t approve of us, then we’ll leave. We won’t bother you anymore.” Smack! Mr. Thompson slapped Michael hard across the face. He was so angry, he couldn’t speak for a moment. Is this really the son we raised with such care? Now he wants to cut ties with us for a girl he barely knows? “Let him go, Mr. Thompson. From now on, we no longer have a son named Michael. He can marry whoever he wants.” Without a second thought, Michael grabbed his unopened suitcase and stormed out, throwing one last parting shot: “I’ll come back when Mom accepts Tiffany.” The door slammed shut behind him. Days went by without a word from Michael. His phone was turned off. Meanwhile, Tiffany somehow managed to get ahold of my phone number, calling me every day. I hung up on her every single time. We had protected Michael too well. He needed to see Tiffany’s true nature for himself. Today, Tiffany called again. Annoyed, I blocked her number. Then, out of nowhere, Michael showed up at home, with a tearful Tiffany trailing behind him. It looked like they had come to confront me. “Mom, how could you block Tiffany’s number? Even if you don’t like her, you can’t hurt her. Do you know how long she’s been job hunting?” What? I couldn’t make sense of it. “No, Michael, you’ve misunderstood. It wasn’t your mom. I made a mistake at work, and I don’t blame her at all.” What a perfect little actress. I didn’t even know what had happened, yet she was jumping in to clear my name. “Michael, I’m your mother. If you’ve got something to say, say it. But don’t you dare accuse me.” Michael sneered. “If you weren’t pulling strings with Skyline Corporation, how else would they have fired Tiffany so suddenly?” Slap! I couldn’t hold back any longer. If I didn’t set him straight, my son would be ruined—manipulated by a woman into throwing accusations like this at me. Tiffany fell to her knees, grabbing onto my hand. “Auntie, please don’t make things hard for Michael. It’s all my fault. I’ll break up with him right away.” I kicked her aside. This kind of act? I’ve seen it too many times. Trying to play the victim in front of me is like putting on a show for the devil himself. “Are you okay, Tiffany? No matter what happens, I’ll never leave you. Even if it means cutting ties with them, I’ll stand by your side.” I caught a flicker of impatience in Tiffany’s eyes. She was only bold enough to act this way because she knew Michael was our only son. If he were a regular guy, she’d disappear in an instant. “I’m fine. Don’t say things like that. No matter what, she’s still your mother.” “She doesn’t deserve the title.” With that, Michael scooped Tiffany up into his arms and marched out, barely sparing me a glance. The audacity! Furious, I immediately called the bank and had them freeze all of Michael’s credit cards.

Michael was as stubborn as a mule. He didn’t call me once. Not even after all his cards were frozen. I didn’t have the energy to worry about him either. There were so many social events to attend lately. “Honey, let’s get going. I heard Mr. Johnson’s daughter-in-law just had a big, healthy baby boy,” Mr. Thompson said as we were heading out. Then he sighed, “Both are sons, but how could ours be so different?” At the event, the moment I got out of the car, I noticed a familiar face. It looked exactly like Tiffany, my son’s clueless, love-struck girlfriend. I left Mr. Thompson behind and secretly followed her. Michael wouldn’t show his face here unless someone else was involved. Tiffany was holding hands with a young man, smiling brightly and charming everyone around her. “Hi everyone, I’m Chris Walker’s girlfriend, Tiffany. You can call me Tiff,” she introduced herself. “Oh wow, Miss Tiffany, you’re stunning! Chris really has good taste,” someone praised. Tiffany blushed shyly, but I was fuming. My son is an idiot, and now it’s up to me to expose this two-timer! I quickly hid behind the stage and discreetly pulled out my phone, recording every moment. After chatting with the group for a bit, Tiffany followed this Chris Walker upstairs to a hotel room. I didn’t need to guess what they were about to do. Mr. Thompson, meanwhile, had been frantically searching for me. “There you are! I thought I’d lost you. Come on, Mr. Johnson’s been asking for you. They’re waiting for you to join the baby’s first birthday grab.” Mrs. Johnson handed me the baby, a chubby little boy weighing ten pounds. “Goodness, this one’s quite hefty! If only I had a grandchild like this,” I said with a tinge of envy. The baby wasn’t just chubby—he had an iron grip, grabbing a toy hammer during the birthday tradition and refusing to let go. Mrs. Johnson tried to pry it from his hand but couldn’t. People began to congratulate the family. “Look at that! Strong grip. This kid’s going to be a boss one day. Knows how to hold onto wealth already!”

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Sophomore year, I became infamous in the worst possible way. My best friend, Rachel Lewis, asked me to meet her at a hotel. I went, and from that moment, my life spiraled into a pit of no return. Not only did I lose my dignity, but they ripped my clothes, took compromising photos, and spread them around. Those indecent pictures were sent to everyone—my classmates, even my professors. Soon, I became the hot topic of gossip: “The president of the Student Government, selling herself for money.” Overnight, I became the scandal everyone talked about. My parents couldn’t handle the public shame. They divorced, and my mom, unable to bear the humiliation, overdosed on pills. From that day, I had to transfer schools. I changed my face, my name—everything. But I could never forget Rachel’s smug face that night. She orchestrated the whole thing. I wasn’t going to let her get away with it. I worked my way into Rachel Lewis’ graduate program. I sold my mom’s house, the only thing I had left, and reinvented myself as a rich girl, blending into Rachel’s elite circle, pretending to be her closest friend. Rumor had it that her boyfriend, David Lawson, came from serious old money, was super handsome, and head over heels in love with her. David was going to be my first move. He would be the first “gift” I’d give to Rachel. Getting close to a guy like David, one who’s loyal and high-quality, wasn’t easy—but I had to try. Soon enough, my chance came. On Rachel’s birthday, she got into a fight with David and ignored all his calls. Desperate, David reached out to me. “Emily, is Rachel with you?” David asked. I lied. “Yeah, she’s with me.” He hesitated, then said, “We had a bit of a misunderstanding. She won’t pick up my calls. It’s her birthday tonight, and I want to surprise her. I need your help.” “What do you need?” I asked. “Could you lend me your apartment key?” he asked. Rachel, despite her average background, always pretended to be a rich girl. She claimed she couldn’t stand living in the dorms, so I had to split the rent on an expensive apartment just to stay close to her. “What do you want to do?” I asked, playing dumb. “I want to set up the apartment for a proposal.” My heart sank. Rachel, this fake and vain woman, was about to marry David, this incredible guy? Back in sophomore year, she was willing to destroy me just for the title of Student Government President. How was it fair that someone like her could marry into wealth? “Sure, I’ll help,” I agreed with a smile, even as a dark plan started forming in my mind. The birthday dinner was at a bar near Brentwood University. I made an excuse about traffic and turned around, heading back to our apartment. When I got there, David was already waiting outside with a large box. He was tall, about 6’2”, dressed casually in a black T-shirt and baseball cap, but even without expensive accessories, you couldn’t miss his aura of wealth and class. I walked over, smiling. “Been waiting long?” He didn’t say much, just looked at me with deep, intense eyes. “Not long.” I took him inside, helped him set up a romantic scene for the proposal, and when we took a break, I pulled out a few bottles of sake from the fridge. In one of them, I slipped a little something extra before handing it to him. The alcohol wasn’t strong—just a popular drink you’d find in bars. David barely glanced at the bottle before tipping it back.

Sitting on the box, I took a sip of my own drink. “What do you like about Rachel?” I asked. David drained his bottle, then set it down with a thoughtful look. “She’s kind and bright.” I nearly choked on my drink. Rachel Lewis and “kind and bright”? How blind could this man be? She was vicious, manipulative, dark, and ruthless. “Seriously?” I laughed, but when he looked up at me, his dark, slightly drunk eyes carried a kind of deep, dangerous allure. “She’s good to me,” he said quietly. “Wow, you’ve really got an eye for quality,” I muttered sarcastically as I headed to the balcony. On cue, I called Rachel with a tone of urgency. “Hey, can you come back to the apartment? Something urgent came up.” I returned to the living room to find David passed out on the couch, just as I’d planned. For a moment, guilt washed over me. David was a good guy. He didn’t deserve to be caught in the crossfire of my revenge. But then I thought of all the evil Rachel had done to me, and my resolve hardened. “David, this isn’t to hurt you. I’m saving you,” I whispered before stripping him of his clothes and positioning him on the couch. “I hope we put on a good show,” I said, then destroyed the evidence by wiping down the bottles and tearing my own clothes. I even bruised myself, slapping my face until it swelled. Then, I texted Rachel: “Rachel, hurry back. David’s gone crazy!” My phone buzzed with her frantic calls, but I smashed it into pieces.

Rachel rushed back to the apartment, her face pale as she took in the scene: me, battered and bruised, crying hysterically on the couch, clothes torn, and David sprawled unconscious across the room. “Emily, what happened?” she asked, her voice trembling. “Rachel…” I sobbed, throwing myself into her arms. “David… David attacked me!” It was so satisfying to spit out those words—David attacked me. Rachel looked like she might pass out. Her eyes locked onto David, fury and disbelief bubbling up. She slapped him across the face, shouting, “Wake up, you bastard!” When David groggily woke up, completely unaware of what had happened, Rachel lost it. “You disgusting pig!” I grabbed my phone and ran out of the apartment, draping myself in a coat as I faked a sobbing exit. Rachel had clawed her way up using her looks and charm to hook wealthy guys, and David Lawson was the biggest fish she’d ever landed. She wasn’t going to let him go so easily. Sure enough, as I reached the sidewalk, Rachel came chasing after me. “Emily!” I pretended to shiver as I tried dialing 911 on my shattered phone, knowing it wouldn’t work. I was buying time, letting her true nature surface. “Rachel…” I said, voice shaking. “I need your phone to call the police. I won’t let that monster get away with this.” Rachel’s face went pale, and she grabbed my hand. “Emily, calm down.” “How can I calm down?” I cried. “Do you know what he did to me?” Tears streamed down my face as I continued. “He ripped my clothes, groped me, and… and he assaulted me. I’m going to make sure that man goes to prison! And if you defend him, we’re no longer friends.” Rachel’s expression hardened, and I saw the cold, calculating woman behind her fragile exterior. She forced a smile. “I’m not defending him. I’m just worried about your reputation. Let’s wait a couple of days and talk this through. I’ll get David’s side of the story and make sure you get justice.” Her smile was as chilling as it was fake. But I knew what she was planning. She was getting ready to strike. Everything was going exactly according to plan. Now, it was time to push Rachel over the edge.

The news that David and I had “slept together” spread across Brentwood University’s Instagram Page like wildfire. My childhood friend had helped leak the story, and the more scandalous and unbelievable it sounded, the better. I wanted Rachel to feel cornered, furious. I didn’t care if she hated me. I wanted her to feel the pressure of having to protect her rich “rapist” boyfriend’s reputation. Rachel soon moved back to the dorms, keeping an eye on me under the guise of concern, but I knew the truth: she didn’t want me calling the cops and ruining her chance to marry into wealth. The day after I moved back, David texted me. “Emily, we need to talk.” “Let’s talk off-campus,” I replied. “I don’t want to be seen here.” “Fine,” he agreed. Knowing David liked to dress in black, I picked a black long-sleeve shirt and hat, wrapping myself in a disguise. My friend was ready with a camera to capture every moment. As soon as I got outside, David’s sleek Maybach was parked across the street. I climbed into the back seat. David’s face was tense as he stared at me in the rearview mirror. “Where do you want to go?” “I don’t care. Let’s just drive.” We circled the city aimlessly, and though I felt a pang of guilt for what I was doing to him, thoughts of my dead mother hardened my heart again. I couldn’t tell him the truth yet. Rachel’s poison had already seeped too deep into his mind. If I revealed everything too soon, he wouldn’t believe me. I’d lose my chance for revenge. There was a heavy silence before David finally spoke. “Emily, about that night… I’m sorry. David’s voice was low, almost apologetic. “I’m sorry about what happened that night. I know I drank too much, but honestly, a single bottle of sake shouldn’t have knocked me out like that. Rachel and I have been going over it, and… something feels off.” My heart skipped a beat. I hadn’t expected him to suspect anything so soon. Still, I kept my composure. “What do you mean?” David hesitated, as if searching for the right words. “Doesn’t it seem strange? Like maybe someone else was involved?” I cut him off, tears streaming down my face. “Are you accusing me of something? Why would I set you up? I don’t want your money. I don’t want anything from you. What reason would I have?” “I’m not accusing you of anything—” “You think I’d ruin myself just to frame you for something you didn’t do?” I interrupted, my voice breaking. “You’re trying to cover up what you did by throwing dirt on me!” David exhaled sharply, gripping the steering wheel tightly. He couldn’t meet my eyes. “That’s not what I’m saying.” “Fine,” I shot back, my anger rising. “Let’s go to the police. I still have the underwear with your DNA on it from that night. We’ll see who’s lying.” Before he could respond, I threw open the car door and stormed down the street. “Emily, wait!” David chased after me, grabbing my arm. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.” I yanked my arm away, playing up the distress. “You don’t get it! You ruined my life! You treated me like I’m nothing but a—” I choked on my words, collapsing into sobs on his chest. David, shaken, tried to comfort me. “I’ll make it right. I’ll fix this. Whatever you need. I’m truly sorry.” As I cried into his shoulder, my friend discreetly snapped photos from a distance—David pulling me close, my tear-streaked face buried in his shirt. The images would fuel the next wave of gossip on the Brentwood University Instagram Page. Rachel would see these and lose her mind. “I don’t want your money, David,” I whispered, ensuring my voice trembled just enough. “Let’s just pretend none of this happened. For my sake, for Rachel’s.” David’s expression softened, filled with guilt. “If that’s what you want.” I gave a small nod. “Thank you. I just… I just need to move on.” With that, I hailed a cab back to Langston Hall, leaving David standing there, visibly torn and conflicted. I didn’t want to hurt him, but he was an unavoidable casualty in my war against Rachel. Back at the dorm, Rachel was waiting for me. Her eyes were red, but her smile was disturbingly calm. “Emily, where have you been?” I shrugged, playing it off. “Just went for a walk.” Rachel wrapped her arms around me in a fake hug, her voice sugary sweet. “I was so worried about you. Come with me to a party tonight. It’ll take your mind off everything.” She was inviting me to a “celebration”—the same excuse she used that night in sophomore year when she lured me to the Hilton Hotel. She was preparing to make her move. Only this time, she was the prey, and I was the hunter.

I had been lying low around Rachel for so long, there was no way I hadn’t learned everything about her. I knew exactly who she talked to, what she did, and who her connections were. To David, she always played the role of the calm and refined girlfriend, but in reality, she was anything but. Back in sophomore year, she was running with all kinds of shady characters, making friends with a lot of street guys. Her network was wide, and even after getting into grad school and moving to New York City, she still kept in touch with those “brothers” from back then. I sent the party address to my friend, who was already prepping for what we had planned. The celebration was at a nightclub downtown. The VIP Lounge was dimly lit and thick with smoke, filled with guys who were clearly from the wrong side of the tracks. Some were sitting around shirtless, playing cards, while others were getting wild on the dance floor, moving to the heavy beat of the music. “She’s here!” A tall, lanky guy sitting in the middle, cigarette in hand, announced as soon as Rachel walked in. Rachel slapped me on the shoulder and grinned. “Hey Derek, I brought a new girl to join the fun.” A few of the guys turned to look at me, their stares far too intense for comfort. Instinctively, I started to back out of the room. Rachel, however, shoved me forward. “What the hell, Rachel?” I asked, confused. The moment the door clicked shut behind us, her entire demeanor shifted. The fake friendly smile vanished, replaced by a cold smirk. “Emily, it’s time to drop the act.”

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On my wedding day, the groom ran away. So, I married his father instead. If I can’t be your bride, I’ll just be your bride. When he returned and saw me still in his house, he thought I was clinging on, refusing to leave. From behind him, he pulled forward an innocent-looking woman, declaring that she was his true love and that I should stop dreaming. I smiled, gently grasping the hand of the man beside me. “Son, daughter-in-law, won’t you give your mother a greeting?” I am Laurel Henderson, heiress of Henderson Enterprises. Today was supposed to be my wedding day with Enoch Westfield, the young heir of Westfield Corporation. But the groom, who was meant to be front and center, was nowhere to be found. “You’re telling me Enoch ran away?” I asked, my voice cold. “That’s what they’re saying…” the maid stammered, trembling as she explained. My parents were livid. Both the Henderson and Westfield families had spent months preparing for this wedding. Every major elite family in New York City had been invited, and the media was eagerly covering it. If Enoch had any issues with the wedding, he had plenty of opportunities to voice them. But to flee on the day of the ceremony? That was a direct slap in the face to the Hendersons. After offering me some reassurances, my parents hurried off to figure out how to salvage the situation. I sat in the corner, quietly thinking about how to proceed with the reception when I heard a commotion at the entrance. Instinctively, I looked up. Walking through the door in a tailored black suit was a strikingly handsome man. This man was Christopher “Chris” Westfield, the current head of Westfield Corporation and, technically, Enoch’s father. Despite being thirty-five, he looked like he was barely in his twenties. Chris rarely attended large social events. Even I had only met him a handful of times. So seeing him here, now, drew the attention of every family present. People practically tripped over themselves to get to him. Staring at Chris’s perfect features, a wild idea flashed in my mind. As I watched him politely turn down everyone’s advances, he suddenly walked straight toward me. “Mr. Westfield,” I greeted him with a polite smile, though I couldn’t hide a hint of vulnerability in my voice. His voice, low and melodic like a cello, came next. “Miss Henderson, I apologize for Enoch’s behavior. I’ve already sent people to find him. When he’s caught, you may decide what happens to him.” “I’ll inform everyone that the wedding is postponed, and Westfield Corporation will cover all expenses.” It was a perfect solution, but I had a better plan. “Mr. Westfield, this engagement has always been between the Hendersons and the Westfields, right? The groom doesn’t necessarily have to be Enoch, does it?” “What?” His eyes darkened, clearly taken aback by the sudden turn. After a pause, he asked, “Well, who would you choose then?” I smiled sweetly, extending my hand. “Would you be my groom?”

Although Chris is Enoch’s father in name, he isn’t his biological dad. There were rumors Chris had certain… physical shortcomings, which is why he was still unmarried. At twenty-five, he adopted Enoch from a distant relative. Whether or not those rumors were true didn’t concern me. Medical advancements these days are incredible—I’m sure any issue could be resolved. And if not, well, maybe we just don’t have kids. Chris raised an eyebrow, amused by the bold smile on my face. “Are you sure?” “Of course,” I replied without hesitation. After all, Chris was far more attractive than Enoch—by miles. Even if the rumors were true, just looking at his face every day would be more than enough for me. It sure beats being humiliated by a two-timing Enoch. Chris studied me for a long moment before finally nodding. “Alright.” His strong, masculine hand clasped mine, and my heart skipped a beat. The wedding went on with a new leading man. I didn’t even have to change my dress. The elegant white gown, paired with Chris’s custom-tailored black suit, made us look like we were always meant to be bride and groom. Everyone at the reception caught on quickly. Enoch’s sudden disappearance wasn’t exactly a secret, and the guests had more or less figured it out. The media, sensing a scandal, had their cameras ready, eager to capture the drama unfolding between two of New York’s wealthiest families. But when they saw me walking down the aisle, arm in arm with Chris, jaws dropped. The audacity of switching grooms at the last minute left them all speechless. The officiant, ever the professional, read off the updated details with ease. “Please, exchange your rings…” Chris pulled out a ring and slid it onto my finger, and I did the same for him. I quickly noticed the ring didn’t quite fit—after all, it was sized for Enoch. It was a rushed job, but it would have to do. Then came the moment for the groom to kiss the bride. I felt a wave of nerves. Chris was known for being discreet and private—he rarely attended events, and when he did, he never had a date. Would he really want to kiss me in front of all these people? I regretted dragging him into this mess on a whim. But before I could spiral into doubt, I felt the soft pressure of his lips on mine. Shocked, I opened my eyes, and there he was—his perfect face, inches from mine. Sensing my surprise, Chris gently cupped the back of my head, deepening the kiss. I closed my eyes again, letting myself sink into the moment as the crowd around us erupted into applause.

My parents had no idea about my last-minute decision, but faced with the congratulations from everyone around us, they had no choice but to smile and accept it. They couldn’t possibly embarrass their daughter in public, could they? During the reception, my mom pulled me aside into a private room where my dad was already waiting. She locked the door behind her. “Laurel, what is going on? How did you end up marrying Chris Westfield?” “Because… he’s handsome.” I had no better explanation for my sudden impulse. “Handsome?” My mom thought about it for a moment. “Well… he is good-looking.” “But he’s more than ten years older than you! He was almost done with elementary school when you were born.” “So what? They say older men are more caring.” I tried to play it cool. “But… there’s a rumor he can’t, well, you know…” Yikes. This was going to be tough to explain. Before I could figure out how to dodge that landmine, there was a knock on the door. My mom opened it, and there stood Chris. I had no idea how long he’d been standing there. With practiced ease, my parents plastered on polite smiles, as if they hadn’t just been gossiping about the man. “Mr. Westfield, what brings you here?” “I’d like to have a word with you both, if you don’t mind,” Chris said. I have no idea what he said to them, but by the time their conversation ended, my parents were no longer opposing the marriage. In fact, they seemed genuinely impressed with him. “Chris is quite something,” my dad said approvingly. “He’s capable, resourceful. Sure, he’s a bit older, but that kind of man can protect our daughter.” Enoch, who ran away like a coward, certainly couldn’t.

After the wedding, I moved into the Westfield Estate. This was Chris’s personal residence, and it was my first time there. The décor was modern, minimalist, with everything in black, white, or gray. After a day filled with endless socializing, I could feel the alcohol and sweat clinging to my skin. Chris headed off to shower first while I relaxed on the couch. I could hear the sound of the water running, and through the frosted glass of the bathroom door, I could just make out his silhouette. My cheeks flushed with embarrassment, so I quickly averted my eyes. Eventually, the water stopped, and out of habit, I glanced up as Chris emerged from the bathroom. He was wearing a robe, the collar slightly open, revealing a chiseled chest and abs. I stared, wide-eyed. I hadn’t expected him to look so… fit. Chris caught me looking and gave a small, amused smile. “Laurel, maybe you should take a shower too,” he said, his voice deep and teasing. Snapping out of my daze, I bolted into the bathroom, my face burning. As the water rushed over me, my mind replayed the way he’d called me by my name. How had I not noticed before how charming he was? After my shower, I realized I’d forgotten to bring my clothes into the bathroom. Ugh. There was no choice but to crack open the door just a bit and call out, “Chris, I forgot my clothes. Can you grab the bag on the couch and hand it to me?” There was no response at first, and I started to wonder if he’d left the room. Just as I was about to ask again, his voice came from outside the door, a little rougher than before. “Sure.” I could hear him moving around, and soon, he knocked on the bathroom door. “Here you go.” I cracked the door just enough to extend my arm, and he handed me the clothes. “Thanks,” I muttered, quickly closing the door. But as I did, I accidentally met his gaze. Those deep, smoldering eyes… I blushed even harder. Oh my God. He hadn’t handed me the whole bag—just the underwear.

I spent a long time dawdling in the bathroom, but eventually, I had to come out. Taking a deep breath, I pushed the door open. Chris was already changed into his pajamas, sitting on the bed, reading a document. When he saw me emerge, he calmly closed the folder. There wasn’t any teasing in his expression, which helped me relax. I had some business to address anyway. “So, what are you planning to do about Enoch?” Chris had anticipated the question. He handed me the folder he’d been reading earlier. “Take a look.” I walked over and took the papers. Inside was the whole backstory of Enoch and some girl—the kind of classic love affair you’d expect from a cheesy romance novel: a rich heir and a delicate, innocent girl. Next to the description was a photo of the girl. She really did fit the role of a sweet, innocent little thing. Apparently, they’d gone through rounds of dramatic breakups and reconciliations, all without me knowing. Then, last night, the girl found out Enoch was getting married. Distraught, she called him, crying. Enoch, ever the compassionate fool, panicked and ran off, leaving his fiancée (that’s me) behind to elope with her. Honestly, if I weren’t the poor bride left at the altar, I might have congratulated them. But no, unfortunately for me, I was the jilted bride. Seriously, where had these two been for the past few months? From the timeline in the documents, their little roller-coaster romance had been going on for two months. Longer than it took to plan the wedding. If Enoch had hinted at anything during that time, I wouldn’t be so furious right now. “Enoch’s off on some vacation with his little girlfriend right now,” Chris said, noting my simmering anger. “I’ve sent people to drag him back. If you want, we can pretend this whole wedding didn’t happen.” We hadn’t officially signed the marriage license yet—just held the ceremony. But I didn’t regret a thing. I’d tossed away trash and found myself a treasure. This was luck beyond belief. “No need to cancel anything. We’re married, and I’m your wife. Tomorrow, we’ll get the paperwork done.” I was serious. Chris looked at me, realizing I meant every word. His tone softened. “Alright.”

“You said I could handle Enoch however I liked, right?” I asked, a mischievous smile forming on my lips. “Of course.” Perfect. “I want you to freeze his credit cards.” Let’s see how Enoch enjoys his romantic getaway when his access to money is suddenly cut off. Chris could see the wicked glee in my eyes. Not only did he not stop me, but he added fuel to the fire. “As of today, I’ll seize all of his assets. What do you think of that, Mrs. Westfield?” That last phrase caught me off guard, making my face turn red again. “I think that sounds wonderful,” I replied, the thought of making Enoch’s life miserable filling me with satisfaction. With the jerk dealt with, it was time to move on to more important matters. “Let’s get some rest,” Chris said. He sounded genuinely tired as he reached over and turned off the light. The room went dark. I lay stiffly in bed, too nervous to move. It was my first night as a married woman, and I wasn’t sure what was supposed to happen next. A wedding night? Should I make the first move? Just as I was working up the nerve to do something, Chris’s calm voice broke the silence. “Go to sleep. I won’t touch you until you’re ready.” Relieved yet conflicted, I thought about those rumors. Was it really true? Could he really resist a beautiful woman lying right next to him? Maybe he really couldn’t… “?” Chris’s eyes flew open again. It took me a second to realize I had said that last part out loud. Before I could pretend to be asleep, I felt the bed shift as his body leaned closer to mine. His long fingers brushed my waist, his breath warm against my ear. “Maybe you should find out for yourself,” he whispered. Turns out, teasing a man who’s been celibate for years has consequences.

The next morning, I woke up well past noon. The spot beside me was cold. Chris was already gone. Of course, big CEOs don’t have the luxury of sleeping in. My stomach growled, so I headed downstairs in search of food. To my surprise, Chris was sitting at the dining table, casually flipping through a magazine. “Good morning, Mrs. Westfield. Did you sleep well?” Today, he wasn’t in his usual suit. Instead, he wore a simple white shirt, the collar slightly open, revealing faint marks from last night. My face flushed at the memory, but I wasn’t about to let him have the upper hand. “I slept great, Chris,” I replied with a hint of defiance. His smile widened. “I’m glad to hear it. It’s reassuring to know you were satisfied with last night.” Shameless! I couldn’t match his boldness. I plopped down at the table with a huff. “I’m starving!” Chris chuckled softly and went to the kitchen, bringing out a simple breakfast. “You’ve just woken up. I didn’t want to make anything too heavy.” The meal was modest—breakfast biscuits, a couple of side dishes, and a bowl of oatmeal. I didn’t care. I was so hungry, I immediately grabbed a biscuit and took a bite. My eyes widened. It was delicious. “This is amazing! Who made these?” Chris said nothing, just smiled. A sudden thought hit me. “Wait, did you make these?” Chris nodded without a hint of hesitation. “As long as it pleases you, that’s all that matters.” I wanted to say something witty, but I couldn’t deny how good the food was. Seeing me eat with such enthusiasm made Chris look pleased. All that time spent learning to cook hadn’t gone to waste. After breakfast, I headed upstairs to get dressed. The decision to marry Chris had been so sudden, I hadn’t had a chance to prepare. There were no women’s clothes at the Westfield Estate, so I had to make do with what I’d brought from my parents’ house. Chris noticed. He stepped out to make a phone call while I finished getting ready. By the time I came downstairs, he was waiting for me by the door. “Let’s go, Chris,” I said, linking my arm through his. He chuckled softly and clasped my hand as we walked out the door.

With our wedding photos freshly printed, it was official—Chris and I were now husband and wife. I was still adjusting to being married, but as I looked at the pictures of us—such a striking couple—I had to admit, we looked great together. My instincts had been spot on! Meanwhile, Enoch and his precious “innocent” girlfriend, Vivianne, were off on their international getaway. But with his credit cards frozen, their fun wasn’t going to last long. I couldn’t wait for the moment when Enoch would return and see that I was now his stepmother. Chris was incredibly thoughtful. After we got our marriage certificate, I came home to find the once-empty closet filled with clothes and accessories, all the latest from high-end designers. “We didn’t have time for custom orders, so I hope these will do for now,” he said. Though many of the clothes were ones I already had, I appreciated his thoughtfulness enough to reward him with a kiss. Just as I’d expected, cutting off Enoch’s funds had thrown his trip into chaos. As the heir to the Westfield fortune, he’d never bothered to carry cash, always relying on his unlimited credit cards. Vivianne, who had quit her job when they started dating, still had some savings from before. Without her, Enoch wouldn’t have even been able to get back home. “Don’t worry, Enoch,” Vivianne whispered. “Something must have happened. Let’s buy tickets and head back to New York.” “Thank you, Vivianne,” Enoch replied, his voice full of gratitude. He had a feeling Laurel was behind his accounts being frozen. Someone must have told the bank to cut him off, and it could only be her. But no matter. Once they were back in New York, he planned to make things official with Vivianne. After all, they truly loved each other. He owed her that much. He could already picture their future—marrying Vivianne, taking over Westfield Corporation, and living happily ever after.

The couple hurried to catch the next flight back to New York. After a seven-hour flight, they arrived at the Westfield Estate around eight in the morning. Enoch knew Chris rarely stayed at the old family mansion, so he headed straight for the estate. Meanwhile, I was lounging on the couch, waiting for Chris to finish breakfast. These past few days, I’d spent every moment with him. For someone who had once seemed so aloof and distant, Chris was surprisingly affectionate—and not the saint he appeared to be. To enjoy our honeymoon in peace, Chris had given the staff some time off. Only the housekeeper came by to clean every few days. That meant he had taken over all the cooking, but I didn’t mind. After all, I wasn’t exactly skilled in the kitchen. Chris seemed to enjoy it. Every time he saw me happily munching on something he made, he’d tap my cheeks playfully. Suddenly, the house AI chimed. “There’s someone at the door, ma’am.” I slipped on my slippers and checked the security camera. There they were—Enoch and Vivianne, looking worse for wear after their long journey. Well, that was fast. “Your eldest son is here,” I called to Chris, poking my head into the kitchen where he was making sunny-side-up eggs to perfection. “Hmm,” was his only response, his eyes not leaving the pan. Just what I wanted to hear. Leaving the lovebirds to wait outside, I casually went upstairs to change before finally opening the door.

The estate was massive, with an equally sprawling yard—a place you could almost call a small manor. Usually, guests would arrive by car, but since the driver was on vacation, like most of the staff, I wasn’t about to drive out and pick them up. Enoch and Vivianne, after rushing from the airport, didn’t even stop to eat. Now, they were left hungry, thirsty, and stuck waiting at the gate. When the gates finally opened, they had no choice but to walk the long path inside on foot. “This place is enormous,” Vivianne said, awe and envy flickering in her eyes. “When we get married, I’ll buy you something just as big,” Enoch boasted, trying to impress her. “That must be really expensive,” Vivianne said sweetly. “But honestly, I don’t need all that. As long as I’m with you, I’m happy no matter where we live.” Her words, dripping with reliance and affection, inflated Enoch’s ego. “Don’t worry. I’ll buy you a few mansions so you can pick and choose!” he declared grandly. But as they neared the main door, Enoch’s confidence began to waver. He’d always respected Chris, his adoptive father, ever since he’d seen how the man dealt with insubordination. As a child, Enoch didn’t care much about Chris, but as he grew older, witnessing how Chris handled difficult situations made him more cautious around the man. Still, Chris rarely got involved in family matters, and that was part of the reason Enoch dared to run off before the wedding. He was certain Chris wouldn’t bother getting involved in something so petty. After all, as the heir to Westfield Corporation, Chris couldn’t treat him like anyone else. With that thought, Enoch psyched himself up. “Hey, Dad,” he said, pushing the door open, only to be greeted by a surprise. It wasn’t Chris at the door—it was me, Laurel Henderson, smiling warmly at him. “Hello there~”

“You—you—what are you doing here!” Enoch stammered, instinctively stepping back. “Ah!” Vivianne, who was standing right behind him, didn’t have time to react and got her foot stepped on. Tears welled up in her eyes from the pain. Hearing Vivianne’s yelp, Enoch snapped out of it. “Are you okay, Vivianne?” he asked, rushing to her side. “As long as you’re alright, Enoch,” Vivianne said, biting her lip, looking delicate and vulnerable. Enoch spent a good amount of time comforting her right in front of me before finally turning his attention back to me. “Laurel! I never expected you to be this cruel!” What? What did I do? I hadn’t moved an inch since they arrived, and now I was being accused of cruelty? Even Enoch seemed to realize how ridiculous that sounded, so he quickly changed his tone. “I didn’t expect you to be so shameless! The wedding didn’t even happen, and yet here you are, living in our house! I don’t like you. We don’t have a future together. This is my girlfriend, Vivianne. We’re getting married soon.” “And what made you think that’s even remotely possible?” I was genuinely confused, and honestly, a bit speechless. Seriously, had this guy not seen the news? Where did he get the idea that I would still be hanging around for him? Have I ever clung to him? I mentally reviewed every moment I had ever spent with Enoch. I was sure of it—there was absolutely no reason for him to think I’d been hung up on him. Was this guy delusional? “Listen, I understand you and Enoch were engaged, but you never actually got married. Enoch and I are truly in love. Please, just let us be together,” Vivianne said, her tears flowing freely like a broken faucet. She wept as if I were the villain of the story, suffering some great injustice. Enoch, clearly moved, yelled, “Laurel! You’ve gone too far!” What?! What did I do? I stood there, baffled by the sheer absurdity of their logic. Were they both out of their minds? I couldn’t help but laugh. “Has the mental hospital run out of room for the two of you? Is that why you’re here causing trouble?” It took Enoch a moment to process my words. “You’re the one who’s insane!” Seeing my complete lack of concern, Enoch hesitated, wondering if maybe I didn’t care about him after all. But he quickly dismissed the thought, reminding himself that this was the Westfield Estate, not the Henderson home. Laurel had to be here because of him. She must be putting on this act just to get his attention. Enoch softened his tone. “Laurel, I have someone I care about now. We can’t have a future together. Just apologize to Vivianne, and maybe we can stay friends.” Friends? With these idiots? No thanks. I wasn’t about to catch their stupidity.

Just as I was about to fire back, a deep, magnetic voice came from behind me. “What’s going on here?” Everyone turned to look. Chris stood there, wearing a custom black shirt that hugged his well-built body, his chiseled face and commanding presence drawing all the attention. His long fingers gently placed a bowl on the dining table, every movement smooth and composed. Even Vivianne seemed mesmerized. “Dad, we’re back. Why is she here?” Enoch immediately asked, eager for Chris to side with him. But Chris didn’t answer. Instead, he waved a hand toward me. “Come eat.” Enoch and Vivianne exchanged confused glances, thinking Chris was calling them to the table. “Dad, you even made us breakfast,” Enoch said gratefully, starting to lead Vivianne toward the table. Before they could get close, Chris blocked their way. “Dad?” Enoch asked, bewildered. Chris extended his hand again, this time more deliberately. “Sweetheart, I’m here~” I said, beaming as I hurried to him and took his hand in front of both of them. The look on Enoch and Vivianne’s faces—eyes wide, jaws dropping—was priceless. “Son, care to greet your new stepmother?” I asked, my smile growing brighter. The two of them were frozen in place, their mouths still hanging open. Chris ignored them completely, pulling me to sit down at the table. “Eat up. The food’s getting cold.” It took Enoch a good two minutes to recover from the shock. “What?! When—when did this happen? How is this even possible?” Enoch sputtered, his voice loud enough to carry through the room. “On the day of the wedding, of course,” I replied, savoring the sight of his disbelief. To see Enoch, who had been so full of himself just moments ago, now gaping in shock—it was glorious.

“Dad, how could you marry her?” Enoch protested, glaring at me. Seeing the smug look on my face only fueled his anger. “She must have done this on purpose! You can’t be serious! Besides, she’s way younger than you. This makes no sense!” Okay, I’ll admit, my decision to marry Chris was initially driven by a little bit of revenge. But mostly, I did it because I couldn’t let my family lose face in front of everyone. People like us don’t expect to marry for love. Choosing Chris had everything to do with his status. Plus, he was miles better than Enoch in every way—looks, intelligence, everything. And on top of that, he actually enjoyed spoiling me. “Age is just a number. Love knows no boundaries,” I said, raising an eyebrow. Then, just to rub it in, I kissed Chris on the cheek, right in front of Enoch. “Revenge? Using a marriage for that? You really think you’re worth it?” “Come on, son. Call me Mom! Or I might just suggest to your dad that he find a new heir,” I teased. Enoch, now red with fury, turned to Chris for help. “Dad, are you just going to let her talk to me like this?” Chris finally looked at him. Enoch thought, for a split second, that his father might step in. But instead, Chris gently ruffled my hair and said, “There’s nothing I can do to stop her. Besides, Laurel is my wife now, and you should respect her as your mother.” Enoch’s face turned even darker, filled with frustration. He had never been so humiliated in his life. He turned, ready to storm off. Just then, Vivianne tugged on his sleeve. Enoch looked down at her pleading face and, with great reluctance, turned back. “Fine. Mom.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “294750”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster #现实主义Realistic #校园School #魔幻Magic #励志Inspiring #惊悚Thriller #浪漫Romance #擦边Steamy #重生Reborn

Recently, my daughter has become unpredictable, often shifting between extreme excitement and deep disappointment, all because of something her teacher said. After pressing her about it repeatedly, she finally confessed, telling me, “Mom, you’re a bad mom. I wish my dance teacher were my mom instead.” “If only Mrs. Drake were my mom, Dad would smile more, too.” I frowned, my instincts as a woman screaming inside me. That woman was trying to seduce my husband and was attempting to manipulate my daughter. My name is Lauren Simmons, and I’m 31 years old. I’m married, the only child of a small business owner, and I hold an MBA from a prestigious program abroad. I currently work as the marketing manager for my father’s company. To outsiders, my life seems like a dream: the daughter of a successful businessman, highly educated, married, and a mother. But deep down, I’m full of insecurities, largely shaped by my experience growing up in a single-parent household. I often come across as distant and cold to others. And when it comes to family life, I’ve never been as invested as I am in my career. My husband Brian is attractive and successful, and our daughter Sophia is sweet and well-behaved. But the one imperfection in my otherwise ideal life is that, after giving birth, I immediately dove back into work, missing the critical window for postpartum recovery. As a result, I still have excess skin on my stomach and a noticeable C-section scar, which has always been a source of regret for me. Brian never seemed to mind. He would always wrap his arms around my waist and whisper, “Babe, you’re the most beautiful woman in the world to me.” He had said this to me twice before: once during our wedding vows, and once after the difficult birth of our daughter, when I was bleeding out due to her breech position. I still remember being in the ICU, my eyes blurred with tears and the stench of blood clinging to me. I asked him then, “Do I look awful, honey?” And just like before, he kissed my hand without hesitation, assuring me that I was the most beautiful woman in the world to him. His tenderness and love had sustained the quiet warmth of our marriage, keeping it steady but never too intense. Now, our daughter Sophia is four years old and attending Bluebell Preschool. Brian has embraced his role as both a great dad and a responsible husband. While I’m often busy with work, he works the late shift as a software engineer, so he’s usually the one picking up Sophia after school. One day, I got a notification from a parenting forum on my phone. It said the most important thing for a child’s growth is the parents’ presence. Guilt washed over me. I realized it had been far too long since I spent quality time with Sophia. So that afternoon, I left work early and called Brian. “Honey, I’ll pick up Sophia today. Bluebell Preschool, Middle Group, right? I go in through the east entrance, don’t I?” I had to admit, I hadn’t been doing enough when it came to spending time with Sophia. Brian only picked her up from school because my work hours clashed with hers. But when we got home, I was the one who always cooked dinner. I had even gone out of my way to get a certified nutritionist license, all to make sure I could cook balanced, healthy meals for them. I rarely went to pick Sophia up from school. The only time I’d been there was for a parent-teacher meeting, and I had gotten the time wrong. Brian didn’t pick up his phone, so I stood there for an hour and a half, confused, until I saw the other parents trickling out of the building. Sophia, with her little backpack, spotted me, her eyes widening in surprise. When she came over, I quickly took her backpack and said, “Mommy’s been waiting here for you.” She pouted, “Mom, you’re so silly! Today we had extra dance practice, and you didn’t even know!” I crouched down, full of guilt. Brian hadn’t told me, so I came at her usual pick-up time. That’s when I noticed something on her lips—a little oil from something spicy. It was barely noticeable, but as her mom, I caught it immediately. As a certified nutritionist, I was strict about Sophia not eating junk food. Hot Cheetos and potato chips were off-limits, even though she loved them. I grabbed her little hand and sniffed it. She had washed her hands, but the scent of food additives clung to her skin, even under the soap. My face darkened. “Sophia, did you eat Hot Cheetos?” Seeing that I was upset, her expression deflated, but she stubbornly refused to admit it. “Haven’t I taught you to be an honest little girl? Don’t lie to Mommy, okay?” I tried to stay calm. Kids her age didn’t need harsh punishments, but firm guidance. With my gentle coaxing, Sophia finally spoke up. She said Mrs. Drake had given her the Hot Cheetos, but only to her. Mrs. Drake told her not to mention it to her parents or her friends. “If only Mrs. Drake were my mom, Dad would be happier,” Sophia said with a pout. My brows furrowed as I tightened my grip on her tiny wrist, anger simmering in my voice. “What did you just say? Do you know how much it hurts me to hear you talk like that?” She yanked her hand away, tears welling up in her eyes. She grabbed my water bottle from my hand and threw it on the ground, breaking it. “She buys me fried chicken and Hot Cheetos! She plays with me! You don’t give me anything I want!” I stood frozen, staring at my normally sweet daughter, who was now throwing tantrums and breaking things. I began to realize how much I had failed in my role as a mother. My daughter actually thought another woman would make a better mom. But in her innocent way, she had also told me something shocking: my husband had shown affection for another woman.

And this woman, in order to win my daughter over, had been doing everything she could to charm her. This Melissa Drake, the dance teacher at Bluebell Preschool, had been in Sophia’s class since she was little. I’d seen her once in a class photo and jokingly told Brian, “Look at this teacher. She’s so pretty and youthful, like one of the older kids.” Brian had laughed, “She’s thirty already! But I’ll admit, she’s kept in great shape. Used to be a yoga instructor. Her kid’s around three now, but you wouldn’t know it from looking at her.” I’d had a flash of surprise at how much Brian knew about her, but I shrugged it off. After all, he was the one who picked Sophia up from school. It made sense that he’d hear things. Looking back, it all seemed so obvious now. But growing up in a fractured home had made me cautious and insecure. Without concrete proof, I didn’t want to ruin the peace in our family. Maybe Sophia was just saying things out of anger. Maybe Mrs. Drake had a family of her own. She was, after all, a teacher. I tried to reassure myself, worried that my suspicions were just baseless paranoia. In a few days, there would be the School Talent Show, and Sophia was performing a dance number, led by none other than Mrs. Drake. I decided I would go see her myself, to find out what was really going on. By June, the heat in our small Southern town was already unbearable. I couldn’t bring myself to wear a dress, so I stuck to my usual button-down and cropped pants. My C-section scar and the stretch marks that snaked down my legs still made me incredibly self-conscious. When I arrived at Bluebell Preschool, I saw her immediately—the woman who was smiling so sweetly by the stage. Even without filters or makeup, she looked just as stunning as she had in the photos, embodying the “slim and youthful” beauty standards to perfection. I couldn’t help but be mesmerized by her for a moment. She was gorgeous. If only I hadn’t thrown myself back into work so soon after giving birth, maybe I wouldn’t be so different from her. Melissa Drake was wearing a white crop top and had her hair tied in cute little pigtails. Her slim, curvy figure was even more striking up close. She was crouched by the stage, gently encouraging the children. “All right, sweeties, have you memorized your steps for the performance?” “Yes—ma’am!” they shouted in unison. The most excited of all was my daughter Sophia. Her little pointed fairy ears were perched on her head, and glittering purple eyeshadow made her big eyes sparkle. I stood in the shade, watching her—the one thing in this world I loved more than anything. As for what had happened in the past few days, all I felt was guilt and shame. After a long night of thinking, I decided to adjust my work schedule. I would spend more time with Sophia. I needed to be part of her childhood, not some other woman. Then, Melissa Drake noticed me and walked over with a beaming smile. “Hello there! Are you here to see one of the kids? Why not take a seat in the audience?” Up close, her body looked even more striking, with her tiny waist and a sparkling belly button ring. I forced a smile. “Uh, I’m Sophia’s mom.” The look on her face froze for a split second, and I caught a glint of something sneaky in her eyes. “Her grandma?” she asked sweetly. I frowned. Sure, I hadn’t bounced back after having a baby, but I didn’t look that old. “…No, I’m her mom.” She put on a show of surprise, her voice still syrupy. “Oh, I’m so sorry! I just thought—since some of the other kids’ grandmas look so young too. I guess it’s because Sophia’s dad usually picks her up. I don’t see you very often.” Her comment, laced with passive-aggression, brought me back to reality. I knew why I was here now. Things were starting to make sense. No wonder Sophia liked her. This kind of woman, with her charm and sweet words, could easily win anyone over. Thinking back on what Sophia had said the other day, I couldn’t help but feel disheartened. I took pictures of Sophia’s performance, my camera focusing on her small, happy figure. But out of the corner of my eye, my gaze lingered on Melissa Drake’s smiling face. She was also thirty… but she looked so much better than I did. The way Sophia had gravitated toward her terrified me, and I felt the tears well up in my eyes. If my suspicions were true, my daughter would be so happy to have a beautiful, kind stepmom like her. And Brian would be even happier. So what was I? Just something to be discarded when I was no longer useful?

I spent the next several days in a daze. Something felt wrong, but I didn’t want to confront it directly. Even Brian started noticing my distance and asked, “Honey, what’s wrong? Did I do something to upset you?” I shook my head. He was perfect. Too perfect. There was nothing I could blame him for. But the calmer the surface of a lake, the more you suspect the currents hiding beneath it. Two weeks passed, and I tried to put everything out of my mind. My new project at work had me completely swamped, but I didn’t complain. After all, my boss promised that once I wrapped up this deal, I could finally take some time off. Time I could spend with Sophia. On Tuesday, a rainy day, just before I was about to finish work, I got a call from the preschool’s phone. On the other end, Sophia’s small voice sounded excited. “Mom, you don’t need to pick me up today. I’m going to Emma’s house for a birthday party. Her mom is coming to get us.” “Oh,” I replied, a little caught off guard. “Why didn’t you tell me earlier? I could’ve helped you pick out a birthday gift. It’s not polite to show up empty-handed.” Sophia’s voice grew proud, “Mrs. Drake already took me shopping. She helped me pick out a crystal music box. It cost over 800 dollars!” Eight hundred dollars? I was stunned. Why was a preschool teacher helping my daughter pick out such an expensive gift for a birthday party? Mrs. Drake again. Whenever Sophia talked about school, she could hardly stop talking about that woman. It was like she’d been bewitched. I had even asked some of the other kids at school, and they all enthusiastically told me that Sophia was Mrs. Drake’s favorite student. “She always praises her. If someone else messes up their dance steps, they have to stand in the corner, but not Sophia. Mrs. Drake is so gentle with her.” But I knew better. Sophia had no particular talent for dancing and was often lazy about practice. All these thoughts were making me uneasy. I softly reminded her to stay safe before she hurriedly hung up the phone. I sat there holding my phone for a long time, my mind racing. I turned to my coworker and asked, “Can you take over and finish this report? I need to leave early for something important.” She hesitated, “Lauren, you’ve been handling this overseas project. Even if I wanted to help, I wouldn’t be able to do it justice. I don’t want to mess things up.” My mind was a tangled mess, but I still didn’t want to neglect my work. I didn’t want to let my boss down. So I stayed until after 8 PM, working frantically to finish the project. Without even stopping for dinner, I rushed out to pick up Sophia. I pulled out her class contact sheet and found Emma’s address at Ridgewood Heights Estate, building 13. I drove straight there. Emma’s house was enormous. The doors were wide open for the birthday party, but strangely, no one was around. The housekeeper told me that Emma and the other kids had gone to Lakeview Park to watch the tide, but my heart skipped a beat. “What about Sophia?” I asked. “She’s the one with the red polka-dot dress and pigtails.” The housekeeper thought for a moment, “Oh yes, I saw her. Mrs. Drake brought her. They didn’t go to the park though—they’re still inside, talking in one of the rooms.” While everyone else was out having fun, Mrs. Drake had kept my daughter inside? What were they doing? A terrible feeling crept over me. Ignoring the housekeeper’s protests, I hurried inside, clutching my purse. I stopped outside the only room with voices coming from inside, furrowing my brow as I strained to hear what was happening.

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My mom’s funeral had barely ended when Aunt Vanessa showed up at our doorstep. She declared that she was willing to step into my mom’s shoes. My dad, clearly moved by the gesture, was ready to add her name to the house deed. At that moment, I realized one thing—when emotions are involved, money is bound to get hurt. Aunt Vanessa’s intentions were clear as day. Aunt Vanessa is thirty-eight, though she looks like she’s barely twenty-eight. She’s still attractive, her smile always bright and warm. She’s been divorced four times, and each time, it was because she cheated. Grandma Ruby spent most of her life worrying about her, even going as far as consulting a fortune teller for answers. The fortune teller said Aunt Vanessa had a “curse of love,” a fate tangled with endless romantic entanglements. I never thought she would bring that curse to our family. Just days after my mom’s funeral, she came to our house, professing her love to my dad. She told him she was willing to be my mom’s “replacement,” taking care of both him and me. And my dad agreed. I couldn’t believe it. I had a full-on argument with him about it. He sighed, suddenly looking much older than he had before. “Savannah, your dad’s getting old. You’re off at college most of the time. I just want someone by my side.” I wasn’t against him finding someone new, but he wanted to marry Aunt Vanessa, my mom’s sister! “Dad, you know what Aunt Vanessa is like. You can’t be serious!” Was he trying to set himself up to be cheated on? He looked at me, torn, almost pleading. “She promised me she’s changed. And Savannah, she’s your aunt. We’re family.” At that moment, I realized that no matter what I said, my dad had already made up his mind. Sure enough, that very night, Aunt Vanessa moved in, bringing her daughter Ivy, my cousin who had just started junior high. Aunt Vanessa was a great cook, but I couldn’t stomach a single bite of the meal she prepared. At dinner, she kept piling food onto my plate, saying, “Savannah, tell me what you like, and I’ll cook it for you every day.” I gave a cold smile, stood up, and said, “I’m packing my things. I’m leaving for school tomorrow.” Out of sight, out of mind. As I shut the door, I overheard Ivy’s voice: “Mom, why are we living at Savannah’s house?” Aunt Vanessa’s response was chilling. “Ivy, this is our home now. Call him ‘Daddy.’” Ivy, in her sweet, innocent voice, said, “Daddy,” and my dad responded with a big smile, saying, “Good girl, good girl.” And just like that, they became their own little family. After that, I only messaged my dad occasionally. It seemed like life with Aunt Vanessa was going just fine. For winter break, I had lined up an internship and wasn’t planning on going home. But after an entire semester without seeing my dad, I missed him and decided to go back for a couple of days. When I arrived and opened my bedroom door, I was shocked to see Ivy on my bed, eating potato chips. She looked equally surprised when she saw me and scrambled to sit up, spilling chips all over the sheets. I’m a neat freak. I don’t allow anyone to eat in my room. So how could I tolerate someone else doing it? I marched over, my voice stern as I said, “Who told you to come in here? From now on, don’t ever enter my room without my permission.” Ivy didn’t move, sitting on the bed as if nothing happened. “Savannah, this is my room now.” I took a moment to look around and realized that my room had been completely transformed. Wow. It had only been a semester, and my room was gone.

I hadn’t told my dad I was coming back because I wanted to surprise him. Instead, he ended up surprising me. Ivy told me that he and Aunt Vanessa had gone out to buy groceries, so I sat on the couch, waiting. Sure enough, they returned soon, laughing and chatting like they didn’t have a care in the world. My dad’s smile faded slightly when he saw me. He furrowed his brow. “Savannah, what are you doing here? Didn’t you say you were working?” That disappointment I had been holding in all semester just spilled out. “What happened to my room?” Aunt Vanessa glanced at my dad but stayed quiet, clearly leaving it to him to explain. He looked uncomfortable, then tried to explain. “Savannah, you’re hardly ever home now. I let your sister use the room.” We have three bedrooms—one for the master, one for guests, and a small room in the attic. I pointed upstairs, looking directly at Aunt Vanessa. “Move Ivy’s things up there. She’s not allowed in my room anymore.” Aunt Vanessa put on her usual tearful act. “Savannah, Ivy’s your sister. How can you treat her like this?” I never liked Aunt Vanessa, and her playing the victim only irritated me further. I wasn’t about to give her any leeway. “What did I do? I didn’t kick her out, but now you’ve taken over my room, and you’re acting like I’m the one at fault.” Aunt Vanessa looked down, sniffling. My dad, of course, felt sorry for her. His temper flared, and he barked at me, “Savannah Blake, is that how you talk to your elders? Apologize to your aunt!” I was furious. I stormed into the room and started throwing Ivy’s things out. Aunt Vanessa and Ivy screamed from the hallway, and my dad rushed in, grabbing me by the wrist and pulling me out. It was the first time my dad had ever laid a hand on me, and he did it for them—for outsiders. “Savannah, this is my house! I’ll decide who lives here. What’s gotten into you? Is this how I raised you?” I yanked my arm free. “This is your house, but it’s also mine. Half of it belonged to Mom, and now that she’s gone, that half is mine. So how dare you give my room to someone else?” Ivy suddenly chimed in, “It’s my mom’s house now too!” My heart sank as I stared at my dad in disbelief. He looked away, clearly ashamed. “I’ve already added your aunt’s name to the deed.” I looked at Aunt Vanessa and finally understood. Of course. She wasn’t interested in my dad—she was after our house. But so what? “Well, half of this house is still mine. You only own a quarter, so get your daughter’s stuff out of my room!” Aunt Vanessa clung to my dad, refusing to move. I was furious and stormed back into the room, continuing to throw Ivy’s things out. Ivy ran in to stop me, and I shoved her aside. Aunt Vanessa started wailing from outside the door, “What are you doing? How can you hit your sister?” Ivy, quick as ever, immediately sat on the floor and started crying. I hadn’t even touched her, and she was already playing the victim. My dad stormed in, grabbed me, and slapped me across the face. He actually hit me. I felt a wave of sadness and anger wash over me. I blinked back tears and nodded, saying, “Fine. I get it. From now on, you’re your own little family.” And with that, I grabbed my suitcase and left.

I dragged my suitcase to Grandma Ruby’s house. I told her and Grandpa Howard everything that had happened, hoping they would speak some sense into Aunt Vanessa. But Grandma Ruby said, “Savannah, your aunt and your dad are a family now. It’s only natural for her to want her share. Besides, Vanessa has had a hard life. She’s finally settled down; you should cut her some slack.” I was speechless. Grandma Ruby had always favored Aunt Vanessa because she was her “baby.” She had spoiled her to the point of turning her into the woman she was today. And even now, she was defending her. Grandma asked if I wanted her to cook something for me, but I just picked up my suitcase and left. With nowhere else to go, I headed to Uncle Martin’s house. When he heard about the chaos at home, his temper flared. “That idiot! I told him to keep an eye on that deed, and what does he do? He goes and puts that woman’s name on it.” Uncle Martin was ready to march over and confront my dad, but Ethan, my cousin, stopped him. “Her name’s already on the deed. What’s the point in fighting now?” Then Ethan turned to me and said, “Just stay here for now. Don’t worry. You’re not alone. The Blake family isn’t dead yet.” Tears welled up in my eyes, and I started crying. Aunt Jolene came out from the kitchen, wiping her hands. “Alright, that’s enough. Savannah, you must be exhausted after the trip. Come over and have something warm to eat.” I wiped my tears and joined them for dinner. Uncle Martin’s family treated me better than my own dad. After dinner, Aunt Jolene told me to rest, but I was too angry to sleep. Uncle Martin noticed and called me over. “Savannah, do you know how much money your family has?” I nodded. “Yes. Mom told me everything before she passed. She knew Dad was soft and wouldn’t be able to stand his ground.” We lived in a small but wealthy town, ranked as one of the top places to live in the country. My mom had owned a storefront near our neighborhood, which she bought along with our house. It was in her name, but she transferred it to me before she passed. There was also our house and a plot of land near the edge of town, waiting to be developed. My dad worked at Chesterville General Hospital, earning a good salary of over $5,000 a month. Between that and my mom’s business, they had saved quite a bit—about $200,000, all in my mom’s name. I had the savings account in my possession now. After my mom passed, I rented out the storefront to a nail salon, collecting $3,000 a year in rent. When I finished explaining all of this, Uncle Martin nodded. “Well, it’s a good thing your mom had foresight. Otherwise, your aunt would have bled your family dry. Now, about that quarter of the house—what do you want to do?”

There was no way I was going to let Aunt Vanessa take our family’s things. The house had to come back. “But her name’s already on the deed. Can we even get it back?” Ethan sat down beside me, giving my shoulder a reassuring pat. “If you want it back, I’ll help you find a lawyer.” Seeing the determination in his eyes gave me confidence. I did some research online, and it seemed like even if she hadn’t paid for the house, there was a chance she could claim half. The legalities were complicated, and there were different opinions depending on when her name was added. The key was to get more information from my dad. So the next morning, I called him, asking him to meet me at Uncle Martin’s house. I waited all day, but he never showed. When I called again, he said Aunt Vanessa wasn’t feeling well, so he couldn’t come. I wasn’t convinced she was really sick. I packed up my things and headed home. This winter break, I might skip my internship, but I wasn’t going to skip taking back the house. When I arrived, they were in the middle of dinner—eating a huge spread of food. My dad stood up, placing a plate of food in front of Ivy. The sight made me furious. When he noticed me, he smiled and said, “Savannah, you’re back! Come on, have some hotpot.” I looked at him coldly. “Dad, this is my house. Do you think of me as a guest now?” His smile faltered. Aunt Vanessa came over, trying to smooth things over. “Come on, Savannah. We’re family. Who’s treating you like a guest?” Dad quickly fetched another plate and utensils for me, even adding some beef to my bowl in an attempt to make peace. I took a bite of the beef and turned to Aunt Vanessa. “Aunt Vanessa, Dad said you were sick. What’s wrong?” She looked healthy enough to me. She smiled, waving it off. “Just a little headache. It’s nothing. I took some medicine, and I’m fine now. Savannah, eat more. Have some meat.” I said nothing more. After dinner, I was planning to have a serious talk with my dad, but Aunt Vanessa and Ivy approached me. “Ivy, apologize to your sister.” Ivy even gave me a little bow. “Savannah, I’m sorry for taking your room. I shouldn’t have done that. Please forgive me.” Aunt Vanessa chimed in with her own apology. “I’m really sorry, Savannah. It’s just that you said you wouldn’t be coming home, so your dad gave the room to Ivy. She struggles to climb up to the attic, and she’s still young. I didn’t feel comfortable leaving her up there alone. Now that you’re back, the room is yours again.” My dad nodded in agreement. “Yes, Aunt Vanessa already apologized. She didn’t mean to cause trouble. After dinner, let’s go to Uncle Martin’s and get your things.” I was surprised by how quickly they had changed their tune, especially those two.

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On Valentine’s Day, my boyfriend gave me a box of decorative straw and tried to coax me into booking a room at the Sunset Lodge with him. Instead, I got into a G-Wagon, and he called me a gold digger. Then my childhood friend, who comes from old money, smirked and said, “Your family’s thousands of acres of ranch land aren’t big enough for you? Why settle for this one little weed?” “Happy Valentine’s Day, babe!” Tanner stood in front of me, beaming as he handed me a small gift box in our room at Sunset Lodge, just outside of Lakeshore University. Cigarette smoke drifted through the door cracks, irritating my eyes, but I still felt touched. I knew he had been working a summer job for two months, and all his effort was in that tiny box. Eagerly, I reached out to open it, but he gently stopped my hand. “Wait, Riley, open it later, okay?” “Okay,” I smiled sweetly at him. As Tanner went to shower, I nervously scrolled through my phone, reading advice for girls on their “first time,” growing more anxious with every word. I needed something to distract me, so my eyes fell on the unopened gift box. Just a peek wouldn’t hurt, right? Carefully untying the ribbon, I opened the layers of packaging. But what I saw inside made me freeze. After two months of hard work, Tanner had given me… shredded paper confetti? I dug through the confetti, refusing to believe it, until my fingers brushed something hard. I pulled it out—a cheap plastic keychain, complete with a $5 price tag still attached. In that moment, all my joy and anticipation drained away. It wasn’t just a cheap keychain. It felt like it had put a price tag on me, too. “See, Riley,” it seemed to mock, “you’re worth $5 to him.” Suddenly, Tanner’s phone buzzed on the bed, snapping me back to reality. Absentmindedly, I picked it up and saw a string of messages from his mom: “Son, how’s school going? I sent you $500. Let me know if you need more.” “Make sure you’re eating well! Don’t spend all your money on that girlfriend!” “By the way, our neighbor’s son just got married—no fancy ceremony, no new house, just brought the bride home.” “You better hurry and get her pregnant, then we won’t need to worry about paying for the wedding!” “And if it doesn’t work, poke some holes in those things. No one will notice.” I stared at the screen, horrified. My body went cold even though it was the height of summer, a shiver running down my spine. Anger, disgust, shame—all of it swirled in my head. I couldn’t take it anymore. Pushing open the door, I ran out of the room, gasping for air.  

I almost sprinted all the way back to Crestview Hall, where my roommates, Brooke and Savannah, jumped at the sight of me. “Riley, what happened? Weren’t you spending Valentine’s Day with Tanner?” Savannah asked, wide-eyed. Before I could answer, my phone buzzed in my pocket. Tanner was calling. I took a deep breath and picked up. “Riley, where are you? You promised we’d spend the night together! I already paid over a hundred bucks for this room, and the front desk won’t refund it!” he yelled. His tone turned threatening. “If you don’t come back now, we’re done.” He’d said that to me before, and each time I would cave, apologizing like a scolded child. But not this time. I swallowed my frustration and opened Instagram, transferring him $1,000. “Take this, Tanner. Consider it a refund. We’re over. Don’t contact me again.” Brooke and Savannah stared at me in shock. Brooke gave me a thumbs up, silently celebrating that I’d finally come to my senses. “Are you out of your mind, Riley? What the hell are you saying?” Tanner’s voice sounded panicked, realizing his usual threat wasn’t working this time. I hung up and ignored his repeated calls. Eventually, he gave up, accepting the money I’d sent. “Fine, break up then. Just don’t come crying to me later. No one’s gonna want you with that face.” “You’ll regret this someday.” I glanced at the mirror across the room, looking at my reflection. My skin was smooth and fair—except for the dark bluish birthmark that marred one side of my face. It was hideous, a constant reminder of my insecurity. But this time, no matter what, I wasn’t crawling back to him. Even though… he used to love me once.  

Tanner and I met during freshman year. Back then, my face was flawless. Tanner had earned quite a reputation for himself, the “self-made” guy who’d lost his father young. His good looks and quiet strength made him a star in our department. I grew up with everything handed to me, and I was quickly drawn to his unassuming charm. He had dignity, even though he was poor. I chased him relentlessly, showering him with expensive gifts he refused to accept. Even after we got together, he always told me not to waste money. I wanted to please him, so I stopped buying thousand-dollar dresses and started eating at food trucks instead of fancy restaurants. My friends, especially Brooke, worried about me. She said Tanner was emotionally manipulating me, but I brushed her off. I thought Tanner really loved me. He would get jealous when other guys looked at me, bring me hot cocoa with marshmallows during my period, and remember everything I liked and disliked. He was the most attentive boyfriend I’d ever had. Most importantly, when my face began to change, he didn’t leave me. It was during the second half of sophomore year that the dark patches appeared on the left side of my face. At first, I wasn’t concerned. I bought all kinds of expensive creams, but nothing worked. The patches grew worse, eventually covering a large part of my face. I became reclusive, avoiding people, and slipping into depression. Tanner stood by me, even accompanying me to the doctor. The next day, he showed up with my test results and told me it was likely a genetic condition with no cure. I was devastated, but Tanner was my light. “Don’t worry, Riley. No matter what happens, I’ll always be by your side. No one will ever love you more than I do.” He comforted me until I came out of my dark place. He didn’t reject me because of my face; in fact, he became even kinder. He even promised we’d get married after graduation. Tanner took me to social events with his friends, though I always felt out of place, especially around their flawless, beautiful girlfriends. “Tanner, what if I try cosmetic surgery?” I asked nervously one day. He flatly refused, frowning. “Riley, do you think I only loved you because of your looks? How could you even suggest that? I said I’ll love you no matter what.” “Surgery is fake and gross. I hate those influencer faces.” So, I gave up on the idea of cosmetic surgery and comforted myself with the thought that as long as Tanner didn’t mind my face, I didn’t need to care either.  

But now, Tanner is no longer a part of my life. I stared at my reflection again, making up my mind. I was going to try cosmetic surgery, no matter how slim the chances were that it would work. Tanner kept sending messages, his tone changing from threats to apologies, softening with every text. Before I could reply, Savannah’s phone buzzed. I recognized the voice instantly—it was Tanner. “Savannah, can you believe Riley? She doesn’t appreciate me. If only she was as understanding as you,” he said. I looked up, meeting Savannah’s guilty, nervous gaze. “Riley, don’t get the wrong idea. Tanner’s just upset about the breakup. I was trying to calm him down.” Hearing Tanner’s sweet words in his messages, I felt sick to my stomach. Understanding? Of what? Of his attempt to trap me into getting pregnant so he wouldn’t have to pay for a wedding? Or maybe Savannah was comforting him because she knew I wouldn’t anymore. “Don’t bother pretending, Savannah. I’ve known about your little games for a while. Just because I haven’t said anything doesn’t mean I’m stupid.” Savannah had hated me since day one. She came from a small town, starting as a nobody. Other students made fun of her background, but I had been kind. I lent her clothes, gave her advice. But as she shed her small-town image and started getting compliments, things changed. People began to notice how much we resembled each other, though more often than not, they pointed out that Savannah was just my sidekick. And now, she wanted Tanner. Who knew how long they had been sneaking around behind my back?  

“Riley, how could you accuse me of that? I was just trying to help!” Savannah’s voice quivered as tears welled up in her eyes. Even Brooke seemed to think I was overreacting. Brooke nudged me, “Riley, forget Tanner. Don’t let him ruin our roommate bond.” I sighed, pulling up a folder of pictures on my phone. I placed it on the table, scrolling through them one by one. The first showed Savannah adding something to my face cream. The second showed her sneaking into my drawer to take my wallet. The third was a love note she had written—to Tanner. As I swiped through each photo, Savannah’s face paled, and Brooke’s eyes widened in disbelief. “You knew all along!” Savannah shrieked. “You’ve just been watching me, waiting to laugh at me, haven’t you?” I stayed silent as Brooke, clearly shocked, stood frozen. Savannah’s expression turned vicious as she thrust her phone toward me. “Money means nothing now, Riley. You’ve lost your perfect face and your loyal boyfriend. What do you have left? You can’t keep stepping on me to make yourself feel superior!” She shoved her phone in my face, revealing messages between her and Tanner dating back to last August. It turned out she had been after him for a long time. “Tanner, that $600 dress Riley wore—was that a gift from you? It’s gorgeous, but I could never afford something like that. I’m happy with my $10 tee, though.” Tanner replied: “Riley’s so materialistic. I think being frugal is better.” “Which of these pictures do you like more, Tanner?” she had asked, sending him two half-dressed selfies. He replied: “Both are great, but a little less clothing wouldn’t hurt ;)” I knew the difference in our upbringings was always a sore spot for Tanner. I had tried to meet him halfway, tried to protect his fragile pride. But in the end, I was still the one who didn’t “get it.” And Savannah, who was even more materialistic than I was, somehow became his down-to-earth, misunderstood soulmate. “Riley, you and Tanner don’t belong in the same world. Only I really understand him.” Yeah, maybe you’re right. You two are a perfect match, sharing the same self-pity and resentment for your upbringing. I looked at Savannah’s smug face and couldn’t help but laugh. “If you enjoy playing with trash, you can have him. Unlike me, you have nothing else going for you besides Tanner.” Savannah’s face went white with rage. She grabbed her phone and stormed out, no doubt running to Tanner for comfort. I hope they enjoy that $100 motel room. Best of luck to them.  

The next day, I searched for the address of a well-known cosmetic clinic—Westside Aesthetic Center—and booked an appointment with a dermatologist. When I arrived, a nurse led me inside, and I was surprised to see a young doctor waiting for me. I’d heard he had just returned from studying abroad. “Riley?” He looked at me with wide eyes, clearly shocked. I glanced up and saw a familiar face—Hunter Sinclair. “When did you get back? Why didn’t you tell me?” Hunter had been my childhood friend. Our families were business partners and close friends, so I practically grew up with him. He was always surrounded by girls, a total playboy, while I had been the quiet, well-behaved one. He left for school overseas, and I stayed behind to attend Lakeshore University. With time differences and busy schedules, we lost touch. “I figured you didn’t want to talk to me after you blocked me on Instagram,” he said, looking genuinely hurt. Confused, I pulled out my phone and checked my contacts—he wasn’t there. “That’s weird. I never blocked you!” I muttered. But then it hit me—this was probably Tanner’s doing. He had a habit of deleting my male contacts out of jealousy. What I once thought was a sweet, possessive trait now seemed obsessive and unhealthy. I apologized and added him back on Instagram. Hunter’s gaze softened when he saw the dark patches on my face. “What happened to you?” he asked, his voice filled with concern. “I went to the hospital and they said it’s probably a genetic disorder. They told me there’s no treatment, so I’m hoping cosmetic surgery can fix it,” I explained, trying not to sound too desperate. Hunter frowned. “No way. Whoever told you that has no idea what they’re talking about. If it was genetic, you would have had these spots as a kid. Something external triggered this—either something you applied to your skin or hormone-related medications.” His words hit me like a ton of bricks. I’d never even considered that possibility. I’d gone to one of the top hospitals—Chicago General Hospital—and been seen by a renowned dermatologist. There was no way the hospital got it wrong. So that left only one explanation: Tanner. Tanner had faked my test results. I felt nauseous. All this time, Tanner had watched me crumble under the weight of my insecurity, and he still lied to me. Why? What was his end game? Hunter noticed the change in my expression, probably thinking I was upset about my skin. “Don’t worry, Riley. I studied this exact kind of condition abroad. It’s expensive, but it’s treatable. It’s not as bad as they made it sound.” His words brought a small sense of relief. In my world, money wasn’t the issue. If a solution could be bought, it was no longer a problem. But as my relief settled in, so did a deep, simmering anger. Tanner had been manipulating me all along, and I needed to find out why.  

Hunter went above and beyond. He had Westside Aesthetic Center import a special laser machine from the U.S., specifically for treating my skin condition. I was shocked that a new doctor had that kind of pull, but he grinned, reading my mind. “Come on, you think the ‘Prince of Sinclair Industries’ doesn’t have that kind of power?” he teased. It turned out Westside Aesthetic Center was owned by his family, which explained a lot. For the next two weeks, I underwent treatment. I even took a short leave from school, and every day, Hunter drove me home after the sessions, often staying for dinner. My mom was practically obsessed with him—she loved cooking for him, ever since we were kids. Whenever he showed up, my family set another plate at the table without a second thought. “Check yourself out,” Hunter said, handing me a mirror after the final treatment. “No more junk food or weird diet pills. That’s how you ended up with this in the first place.” He smirked, lecturing me like he always did. I ignored his scolding and stared at my reflection. My skin was flawless again—smooth, bright, and completely free of the dark patches that had tormented me for months. “Get in, princess. I’ll drop you off at school,” Hunter said, holding open the door to his Mercedes G-Wagon. “Don’t you have work?” I asked, climbing into the passenger seat. “Do you see me rushing anywhere? I’m the boss’s son. I leave when I want.” He put on his flashy gold sunglasses and revved the engine, heading toward Lakeshore University. Hunter babbled on about his time in the U.S., but my mind was elsewhere. As we pulled up near the main campus building, I spotted Tanner and Savannah walking together, holding hands. Hunter raised an eyebrow. “Isn’t that your ex? I remember seeing a picture of you two together on Instagram. What’s he doing with someone else?” “We broke up a while ago,” I said coldly. Hunter picked up on my mood, but instead of being somber, he grinned. “Who dumps a diamond for a pebble? Guess this means I have another shot, huh? Think I could be your backup plan, princess?” I laughed and swatted the back of his head. He’d been the same shameless flirt since we were kids. As we drove past Tanner and Savannah, Hunter slowed down the car, making sure they saw me. Tanner’s face turned pale when he spotted me in the passenger seat of Hunter’s luxury car. He ran into the street, waving his arms to stop us. Hunter rolled down the window, and I locked eyes with Tanner’s infuriatingly familiar face. “Riley?! What the hell are you doing with this guy? He’s just a spoiled rich kid. You think he’s any good for you? He’s probably slept with dozens of girls. God knows what kind of diseases he has!” Tanner spat, his words getting more desperate. “And your… your face?”

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Justin’s Oscar-winning “dream girl” was sobbing uncontrollably, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have come between you two. I’m the one who should leave.” Justin pointed at me, accusing me of being too much. Then he turned and chased after her. Wow, and this woman’s supposed to be an Oscar-winner with that performance? I immediately called America’s Billionaire Tycoon, “Didn’t you say you wanted to marry me? Let’s get the marriage license tomorrow.” By the afternoon, Logan had already dragged me to the marriage license office. When we walked out, I, Samantha Harper, was officially a married woman. Logan waved the marriage certificate in his hand, smirking like a mischievous kid, completely masking his good looks. “Didn’t you once say you’d rather marry anyone but me? Said if you ever married me, I’d be a dog?” I nodded. “Yup, so now that I’ve married you, you’re officially a dog.” “You…” Logan gritted his teeth. “Samantha, your mouth is really—” “What? Deserving of a slap?” I tilted my head slightly, probably looking a little too cocky. “What? Wanna hit me?” Logan suddenly burst out laughing, taking slow steps toward me, clearly up to no good. Then he said one word: “Kiss.” He reached out, grabbed the back of my head, and kissed me. “!!” I shoved him away, wiping my mouth furiously. “Logan, what the hell are you doing?” Logan looked annoyed. “We’re married now. What’s wrong with kissing you? And tonight, you’re gonna spend our first night together as my wife.” “…” “Finally, the day has come. Just you wait, Samantha. Tonight’s going to be interesting.” Logan swaggered to his car, rolled down the window, and waved at me with that smug look of his. What a jerk. How did he ever manage to become America’s Billionaire Tycoon? I tucked the marriage certificate away and got ready to head back to work. That’s when Justin called. “Samantha, we should officially break up.” Haven’t we already broken up? He seriously called just to tell me that? When he yelled at me and ran after his precious “dream girl,” we were already done. I sighed impatiently, “You people sure have a lot of drama.” Justin: “…” I hung up and suddenly remembered something… Damn it, Logan drove me here and left. How am I supposed to get back? That jerk! I called an Uber and went back to Harper Industries. When my dad saw me, he looked me up and down. “Who are you? I don’t recognize you. Who are you looking for?” “…Dad, I broke up with Justin. Also, Logan and I got married today.” My dad’s face instantly lit up, a warm, fatherly smile spreading across his face. “There’s my precious daughter!” “…” Look at that, even my dad’s acting skills are better than Justin’s “dream girl.” He can change eight hundred expressions in a second. Then Dad suddenly huffed, “Why’d you two break up? Weren’t you all lovey-dovey with him? I told you not to date him, but you wouldn’t listen.” “Well, isn’t that because you kept pushing me to marry Logan?” If my parents hadn’t pressured me so much about marriage, I wouldn’t have rebelled and started dating someone just to spite them—only to get cheated on. And Logan’s no angel either. He’s got plenty of women on the side; don’t think I don’t know about them. I only married him to spite everyone. But now that I think about it, I kind of regret it. I need to have a serious talk with him. “So, you’re back to take over the company? Great! Your mom and I are finally free.” Dad jumped up, heading for the door with surprising agility. I quickly grabbed his arm. “Where are you going, Dad?” “To your mom. She’s been nagging me to take her on a vacation to the islands for two days. Now that you’re back, I can finally spend time with her.” Realizing how his words sounded, Dad cleared his throat and corrected himself, “I mean, it’s your fault for never being around. I barely have time to spend with her.” “…”

“Dad, you might not be able to spend all your time with Mom just yet. I’m not planning on taking over the company right now.” “Oh, great. You came back just to stress me out. Go, go!” My dad waved me out of the office. So much for that idea. Just then, Logan texted me, reminding me, “Don’t forget, we’re having our wedding night tonight.” “…” I clenched my teeth and replied, “Could you say it in a less crude way?” His voice message came through immediately: “That wasn’t crude. I didn’t even say ‘come home and sleep with me.’” My dad’s secretary walked by, giving me a knowing look. “Miss Harper.” “…” I think I need to consider moving to another planet. Logan is such a big-mouth. How is he a billionaire with absolutely no boss-like attitude? He acts like a playboy trust-fund kid—so annoying! Logan sent me another message with his address, telling me to come over for dinner and celebrate. Celebrate what, exactly? Is he really this excited about marrying me just to secure our family alliance? Well, considering I come from money too, and he knows I won’t try to control him, of course he’s happy. Around 7 PM, I arrived at Logan’s penthouse. The luxurious decor and his flashy taste hit me as soon as I stepped through the door. Logan was lounging on the couch, legs crossed, wearing a white T-shirt and a pair of orange floral shorts, casually sipping a glass of red wine. “You’re back.” “…” I walked over. “Didn’t you say we were having dinner? Where’s the food? I’m starving.” He pointed toward the kitchen. “It’s being prepared. Sit down.” He patted the spot next to him. I had barely sat down when he leaned in closer. I leaned away. “Stay back or you’re getting kicked.” “So, why did you suddenly agree to marry me? What happened to your not-so-dependable boyfriend?” Logan looked genuinely curious, like a nosy kid. Not that he’s dependable either. Ahem, not that I’m defending Justin. Justin cheated. “Not dependable” doesn’t even begin to describe how awful he was. I cleared my throat. “Well, because… it’s just…” “Alright, you don’t need to explain.” Logan raised a hand to stop me. Just when I thought he was being considerate for once, he blurted out, “So, you got dumped.” “…” I swear, Logan’s brain must’ve been kicked by a mule at some point. Then he suddenly had a revelation. “Wait, so that makes me your backup plan? I’m your rebound, aren’t I?” “If you don’t want to be the rebound, we can just get a divorce. I’m your backup plan too, aren’t I?” Logan nodded thoughtfully. “That’s true. I mean, I’m quite the catch.” “…” He’s insane. Just then, the kitchen staff came out and let us know dinner was ready. After we ate and relaxed for a bit, I started doing some yoga, and Logan decided to join in. After a while, he said, “Sam, you’re surprisingly flexible.” I kicked at him. “Can you stop being weird?” He looked genuinely hurt. “What? I was just complimenting you.” Okay, maybe he didn’t mean anything by it. I went upstairs to wash up, and of course, Logan followed me like a lost puppy. I was about to enter the bathroom when I stopped, and he bumped into me. “Why’d you stop?” “I’m taking a shower. Why are you following me?” Logan scratched his head. “How about we take a shower together?” I gave him a hard smack on the head. “Logan, are you trying to get yourself killed?” “I’m gonna shower alone!” Who the hell wants to take a shower with him. Idiot.

While soaking in the tub, I found myself in a daze. So, Logan and I are really married now? We’ve known each other since we were kids, but he’s always been such a brat. He used to pull my hair, tell on me for dating, and even rat me out to my parents when I got love letters at school… All these years, he’s driven me crazy. So when my parents pushed for our marriage, I told them I’d only marry Logan if I was desperate. Logan immediately fired back, “I don’t even like you. I’ve got plenty of women who are interested.” Then, when my parents kept pressuring me, I rebelled and started chasing after Justin. I don’t know what got into Logan. After hearing about me and Justin, he said, “Why don’t we just get married? That way you don’t have to waste your time chasing guys you’ll never catch.” His cocky mouth deserved all the punches I gave him over the years. Now that I think about it, he had it coming. Logan was already shouting for me to hurry up. Does he seriously only have one bathroom in this giant place? When I stepped out of the tub, I realized I forgot to bring any pajamas. This was my first time at his place, so I didn’t know where to look for anything. The yoga clothes I wore earlier? Yeah, Logan had found those for me, and they were brand new, so I wore them. I wrapped a towel around myself and walked to the door. “Logan, do you have any new pajamas?” “You didn’t bring pajamas with you?” Logan’s teasing voice came from outside the door. “It’s late. Why bother wearing anything?” “What’s wrong with you? Don’t you wear clothes at night?” “Nope.” I swung the door open. “Go get me some pajamas, now!” “Fine, fine, calm down.” Logan glanced at me, then turned to leave. Halfway to the door, he stopped and looked back at me. “Samantha.” “What?” He smirked. “You’ve got a killer body, seriously sexy.” I grabbed a towel from the cabinet and threw it at him. “Get out!” He’s such a… Pervert! Logan caught the towel with a grin and headed out. A while later, he came back with two sets of pajamas, handing me one. I glanced at the set in his hands. “Didn’t you say you don’t wear pajamas?” “Fine, I won’t wear them. I’ll go put these back.” He turned to leave. I grabbed him before he could. “Stop messing around. Where did you get these women’s pajamas from? Do you bring girls here often?” “Of course not! I don’t bring women here. These are brand new, just for you. I knew your size. After all, I’ve known you since we were kids…” I kicked him in the gut, nearly ensuring he’d never have kids. “Samantha, you’re not only trying to murder your husband, you’re out to kill any chance of us having kids! You heartless woman!” Logan bent over, clutching his stomach. “Shut up!” I couldn’t be bothered to deal with him anymore, so I went to change. From behind, Logan’s teasing voice rang out again, “Samantha, I saw you just now.” I charged back at him, ready to kill him. “Ahhh!” Logan’s screams echoed through the penthouse. About half an hour later, Logan emerged from the bathroom, drying his hair, while I sat on the bed with my arms crossed. “Come over here. I need to talk to you.” Logan walked over, still toweling his hair. “As long as it’s not about the wedding night, I’m all ears.” “It’s not that.” I sighed. “I’m here to set some ground rules. Sit.” I patted the bed beside me. Logan obediently sat down. With his bangs down and a fresh, clean look, he almost seemed harmless—a playful little pup instead of a cocky brat. Not bad, not bad. I patted his head. “Good boy.” “Don’t patronize me.” Logan swatted my hand away. “You’re only a month older than me. What are you acting all mature for?” I rolled my eyes and got serious. “Okay, since we’re married, here are a few rules you need to follow.”

“First, I don’t care how many women you’ve got, but no kids.” “Second, if you ever find someone you truly love, tell me, and we’ll get divorced immediately.” “Third, while we’re married, people need to believe we’re a happy couple. I don’t want anything affecting my family’s business.” I rattled off my conditions in one breath and then added, “Now it’s your turn. What rules do you have for me?” “I can agree to all of that. I only have one rule.” Logan held up one finger. “While we’re married, you can’t get too close to other men.” “That’s a given,” I agreed without thinking. Wait a second. “That’s a double standard. Can you cut ties with all your women?” Logan shrugged. “Done. No problem.” Just as the words left his mouth, his phone rang. I glanced at the screen. The caller ID read: “Big Darling.” I rolled my eyes. Logan answered the call with a few “uh-huhs” before hanging up. I scoffed. “Whatever. I said as long as you don’t have any kids with them, I don’t care.” “What are you talking about?” Logan tossed the phone aside. “Come on, let’s just get some sleep.” “…” I sighed. There’s just no point arguing with him. He doesn’t even give me the chance to be mad. I turned over and got under the covers. He crawled in next to me. “So, uh… lights on or off?” he asked. What’s going on? Why does it feel like he’s nervous? Now I’m getting nervous. “Off.” Logan switched off the lights, then immediately rolled over and kissed me. I resisted the urge to push him away. “Do you even know how to kiss? You just bit me.” “You’re the one who can’t kiss.” Logan cleared his throat. “Samantha, you’re shaking. Is this your first time?” “No… definitely not.” I exhaled. “Wait, are you a virgin?” “How could I be?” Logan sounded proud. “I’m very experienced.” … After last night, I’ve come to the conclusion that Logan was definitely lying. How could someone that bad be experienced? Who’s he trying to fool? Logan was still asleep, his arm wrapped around me. Just thinking about last night made me mad. I shoved him off and got out of bed. As I headed for the bathroom, Logan called out behind me, “Samantha, are you sore?” “No.” I gritted my teeth. I’m sore as hell. “Samantha.” Logan called again. Why is he so chatty? “What?” He nodded toward the bed, where there was a small bloodstain. “Weren’t you saying you weren’t a virgin?” “…” I squeezed my eyes shut in frustration. How could I have forgotten about that? Logan seemed quite pleased with himself, which only annoyed me more. So, just to wipe the smile off his face, I said, “That’s only because you’re terrible. I’ve never met anyone worse than you. And you call yourself experienced? What a joke.” Logan’s smile instantly vanished… No, it didn’t vanish—it transferred onto my face. I hummed as I made my way to the bathroom, leaving Logan furiously punching the bed behind me. He shouted after me, “Samantha, just wait! I’ll show you… I’ll show you…” I turned back with a smirk. “Show me what?” Logan paused, then struck a ridiculous, sultry pose on the bed. “I’ll make you beg for mercy.” “You’re insane. A total weirdo.” I shot him a look and went into the bathroom. “And who was lying about not being a virgin, huh? Tried to turn off the lights ‘cause you were embarrassed…” I grabbed a towel and chucked it at him.

I got a call from Stella Green later that morning. She wanted to meet up. Stella, Justin’s so-called “dream girl.” Why would she want to meet up after Justin and I had already broken up? When we met, it became clear—she just wanted to gloat. “Samantha, you should be thanking me. If I’d gone after Justin sooner, he’d have been mine from the start, and you wouldn’t have even had a chance to date him.” I looked at Stella’s smug face and couldn’t help but laugh. “Are you seriously bragging about Justin like he’s some kind of prize?” I chuckled. “Girl, you’ve seen nothing. I actually feel a little sorry for you. How about I introduce you to some real guys?” Stella smiled politely. “You don’t have to do that. We’re both women. I understand how you must feel…” “Don’t say you’re a woman. You give women a bad name.” I interrupted with a smile. “But I get it. You should probably read more books and work on your personality.” Stella’s phone suddenly rang. She answered right in front of me. “Hello? Blue Planet? Is it for a movie or a show? Alright, I’ll be there soon.” She hung up and turned to me. “Miss Harper, I have to go now for an audition. Feel free to order whatever you want. I’ll pick up the tab.” I smiled. “Thanks.” As soon as she left, I headed back to the office. “Dad, I need some money. I want to invest in a few projects.” “That’ll have to come from my personal account. Ask your mom to transfer it to you,” Dad said, adding, “It’s time you learned the ropes with investing.” “Got it. Thanks, Dad!” …… I quickly reached out to the production team for Blue Planet and offered to invest. Of course, they agreed. I put up $200 million and became the largest investor, meaning I had the final say in everything. I also heard that Stella was auditioning for the lead role. She had a good chance of getting it. But with one word from me, she’d be out of the running. Not yet, though. The fun’s just getting started. I didn’t plan on going after her originally, but she had to rub her little affair in my face. There’s no way I can just let that slide, right? Oh, and Justin? He won’t be getting off easy either. He should thank his “dream girl” for what’s coming. I waited until the final round of auditions before making my move. The audition was taking place at a hotel. Just as I was about to step into the elevator, someone yanked me back. “Didn’t you see our star here waiting to get on the elevator?” I looked up to see Stella stepping into the elevator, flashing me a proud, taunting smile. Just as the doors were about to close, she finally spoke. “Oh, Samantha, it’s you. Want to join us?” Her assistant, ever the brown-noser, scoffed, “Who does she think she is? She’s not fit to ride in the same elevator as you, Miss Green.” Stella smiled but didn’t say anything. The elevator doors closed. I chuckled and shook my head. At that moment, my phone rang. It was Logan. “You’re investing in a movie? Why didn’t you tell me? I own a film company. I would’ve given it to you.” I was a bit taken aback. “What’s gotten into you? Why are you being so generous?” “Samantha, you’re such an ingrate. When am I ever not generous to you? Come on, think about it!” I thought for a moment. Yeah, he wasn’t wrong. As much as Logan could be a pain, he’d always spoiled me with extravagant gifts on birthdays and holidays. I guess I was being unfair. “Alright, we’ll talk when I get home. I’m at the audition site right now, picking actors.” I hung up as the elevator finally arrived, and I stepped in.

The final audition for the lead actress came down to three candidates, with Stella Green being the first up. I texted the producer and had Stella moved to the last spot, so by the time I stepped out of the elevator, I caught her storming out of the audition room. “How could they push me to the end like this? If the director sees someone else first and makes up his mind, I’ll lose my chance! This role is mine, no question about it. Call Ms. Harper right now!” Stella barked at her assistant. Her little sycophantic assistant chimed in, “Don’t worry, Ms. Green. Those two can’t compare to you in acting. You’re saving the best for last! Once the director sees their terrible performances, he’ll be blown away by your talent and immediately give you the part!” I had to admit, this assistant was quite the flatterer. Stella’s acting was awful, yet here she was, brimming with confidence—and the assistant was half the reason for that. The other half came from the endless praise she received from the people around her. No wonder she was so blindly arrogant and self-important. As soon as Stella saw me, her assistant rushed over with all the bravado of someone emboldened by proximity to fame. “You again? Are you stalking Ms. Green? This is no place for you! Get lost, now!” I hadn’t even dealt with Stella yet, but this assistant had already piqued my interest. “Kid, you might want to watch your mouth. You’ll want to leave yourself a way out for the future. Ever heard of the saying ‘always leave a little room’?” The assistant rolled her eyes dramatically. “And who are you to talk about leaving room? Look, if you’re here to fangirl, at least do it properly. It doesn’t matter who you think you are, this is an audition, not a fan convention. Get out, now!” “Alright, I’ll go,” I said with a smirk, “but I have a feeling you’ll be begging me to come back soon enough.” With that, I turned and stepped into the elevator. I’d booked a room on the top floor, where I waited. The producer sent me clips of the auditions, and I reviewed the performances. One actress named Shannon Wood caught my eye. She had talent, and I already had my answer. Then it was Stella’s turn. But the producer told her, “That’s all for today’s audition. Everyone has left.” I was on a video call with the producer at the time, and I watched as Stella’s face fell, her expression barely masking her frustration. “But I’m ready. Weren’t the others allowed to audition even when people hadn’t arrived?” “The investors have already reviewed their auditions. Originally, they had high hopes for you and wanted to see your performance in person, but they were intercepted and sent away before they could arrive.” “Sent away? Who sent them away? Where are they? I’ll go to them right now,” Stella said, growing more anxious by the second. “They’re very upset. Even if you went now, it wouldn’t change anything. Honestly, I think your audition is done for,” the producer sighed. Stella panicked even more. “No! I’ll go and convince them with my performance. Just tell me where they are!” The producer gave her my room number. I hung up the call and waited. A few moments later, there was a knock at the door. She’s here. The knocking continued as I slowly made my way to open the door. When Stella saw me, her jaw dropped. “Samantha… you again?” “I should be asking you that. What are you doing here?” I replied with a cold smile. Stella hesitated, looking at the room number to make sure she wasn’t mistaken. Her disbelief was palpable. “You… you’re in this room? Is there anyone else here?” I raised an eyebrow. “Nope. Just me.”

Even as clueless as Stella could be, she started to catch on at this point. She spun around and slapped her assistant hard across the face. The assistant stood there in shock, not knowing how to react. Meanwhile, Stella composed herself, turning back to me with a smile that barely hid her nerves. “If you’re still upset, Ms. Harper, feel free to take it out on me. I won’t stop you,” she offered coolly. The assistant, now fully aware of the situation, dropped to her knees. “Ms. Harper, I was wrong! I didn’t know my place. Please, I beg you, have mercy and don’t hold it against me!” I had given her a chance, but she didn’t take it. It wasn’t my fault anymore. Stella quickly added, “I’ll blacklist her from the industry. Is that enough?” Her attitude rubbed me the wrong way. It was as if she thought throwing her assistant under the bus would excuse her own behavior. She didn’t want to take any responsibility herself. “Ms. Harper, please, give me a chance. I’m begging you,” the assistant pleaded, tears streaming down her face. But I wasn’t moved. “Why are you begging me? Was I the one who taught you to look down on others? Beg yourself.” Then I turned to Stella. “Anything else to say? No? Well, I’m closing the door.” I was giving her one last chance to apologize. Whether or not she’d take it was up to her. Stella narrowed her eyes. “Samantha, are you sure you want to go up against me?” … Wow, since when did actresses get so gutsy? She must think her backers are untouchable. Fine. I slammed the door in her face. After Stella left, I got a call from Justin Hayes. “Samantha, can we meet?” he asked. I was curious. “Why? What’s up?” There was a brief pause before Justin spoke again. “Stella’s new project… you’re the biggest investor. I’m asking you not to make things difficult for her. I’m the one who hurt you. If you want to get back at someone, come after me.” His words made me laugh. “You really think I’d let you off the hook?” “…” “Stella’s issues have nothing to do with you. It’s her own behavior. Your little dream girl isn’t as pure as you think. I don’t care if others let her get away with it, but she messed with me. And I’m not letting her off easy.” I made myself perfectly clear. After another moment of silence, Justin asked, “Samantha, do you still love me?” “???” I must’ve misheard. “What did you just say?” “I know you still love me. Everything you’re doing is because you can’t let me go. That’s why you want to get revenge…” “You wanted to meet, right?” I cut him off. “Where and when?” Justin paused. “…” We arranged to meet at a quiet club. When I walked into the private room, Justin stood up. Without a word, I walked over and slapped him hard across the face. The sound echoed in the room. Justin looked stunned at first, then his expression twisted into anger. I smiled. “What’s the matter? Mad at me? Want to hit me? You’re only angry because you still care about me. You’re upset because you want revenge.” Justin clenched his jaw, his lips pressed into a tight line. I sat down. “Now, what was it you wanted to say?” “Stella told me you’ve been giving her a hard time. Like I said, if you’re upset, take it out on me,” he muttered, looking down at me. I raised an eyebrow. “I already told you, Justin, I’m not letting you off the hook. Don’t worry, I’ll get to you too.” His eyes darkened. “Are you sure you want to go against me?” I couldn’t help but laugh. “Against you? No, Justin, I’m not going against you. I’m destroying you.” Justin’s expression hardened, his voice low. “Fine, Samantha. Just remember, you’ll regret it when the time comes.”

Justin and I left the club one after the other, but we were still caught by the paparazzi. The next day, it made the business section headlines. That evening, when I got back to Logan’s place, I found him sitting on the couch reading the newspaper. I walked over, and sure enough, there was a giant spread with photos of me and Justin. I glanced at Logan’s face—he looked pissed, like someone had just burned his dinner. I cleared my throat and sat next to him. “The reporters only caught us leaving. They didn’t get the shot of me slapping him.” Logan looked at me, intrigued. “You hit him?” I nodded. He still looked skeptical. “Really?” I raised my hand. “Want me to demonstrate?” Suddenly, Logan grabbed my wrist and pulled me into his lap, leaning down to kiss me. What the hell? I pushed him away. “What are you doing?” “You’re blushing,” Logan teased, clearly in a much better mood now. I rolled my eyes. “What are you talking about? I’m not blushing. I just… I’m not used to this.” I wasn’t used to being this close with Logan, even though we were married. It felt awkward, like we weren’t meant to be this… intimate. I was much more comfortable when we were verbally sparring. “Well, the more we kiss, the more you’ll get used to it,” Logan said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. … He wrapped his arm around my shoulder. “So, tell me, what’s your plan?” “What plan?” Logan’s face darkened. “You’re not planning anything? You’ve spent years making my life difficult, but Justin cheats on you, and you’re not going to get back at him? Don’t tell me you still have feelings for him?” “Oh, that,” I said with a smile. “Do you have a suggestion? Go on, I’m listening.” Logan leaned in, whispering his idea in my ear. It tickled, and I had to resist the urge to pull away. But wow, his idea was truly… evil. I liked it. “Okay. I’ll go with that plan,” I agreed. “And how will you repay me?” he asked, his gaze growing more intense. I could feel the shift in the air, something building between us. I swallowed hard. The next second, Logan leaned in for another kiss. This time, I didn’t push him away. Just as Logan predicted, Justin poured a ton of resources into Stella Green’s career. He funded a movie for her, and once I got wind of it, I immediately invested more money into the project, becoming the largest shareholder. Then, I swapped her out as the lead actress. When Justin found out, he tried to up his investment by another $5 million. So, I doubled mine, adding $10 million more. I had plenty of cash to burn. Unable to compete with my financial firepower, Justin eventually pulled out. Then he invested in another project, and, despite his efforts to keep it a secret, I caught wind of it. I pulled my money from the last project and reinvested in his new one, becoming the majority shareholder again. This time, I switched out the lead actress early. Eventually, Justin couldn’t take it anymore and came to confront me. “Samantha, I told you to take it out on me! This has nothing to do with Stella!” “Alright, then. Let’s make this personal.” I was being quite accommodating, really—doing exactly as he asked. Justin invested in yet another project. After pumping a few hundred million into it, I backed out, forcing him to lose an additional $30 million. Now I was going after his company. I outbid him on projects left and right. The money he had left was being funneled into boosting Stella’s career, and his liquid assets were running dry. Within a few months, I had snatched up three or four major projects. Even my dad was praising me. Honestly, this underhanded strategy had been Logan’s idea from the start. And he was more than proud of himself, strutting around, asking, “Isn’t your husband smart?”

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Emily and her sister both fell into the water at the same time. Their parents chose to save Ashley, letting Emily drown. When she awoke again, she had been reborn into the body of Emily Johnson, the daughter of the Johnson family who had drowned. Originally, she thought their lives would never intersect again, but when college started, she saw Ashley once more. Ashley was boasting about how her parents favored her, abandoning her sister. Her sister’s existence was merely a backdrop for her. She was a strong swimmer, and her parents knew it. Given that, Emily realized she had nothing to cling to anymore. So this is what drowning feels like. The water slowly covered her mouth and nose, flooding her nostrils, stripping her of the right to breathe, while her consciousness remained clear, feeling the pain. The instinct to survive made her struggle incessantly. However, the lack of oxygen rendered all her efforts futile. In this extreme agony, her consciousness began to blur. In the final moments before death, she felt a strange sense of relief. It was finally over; she no longer had to suffer so much. The current blurred the last traces of her vision. Not far from her, on the shore, her parents and sister were embracing, crying and laughing as they savored the joy of surviving the ordeal. … She had died. Then she was alive again. After her consciousness returned from the darkness, she saw the excited faces of unfamiliar men and women around her. “Emily, you finally woke up! Don’t scare your mom!” “Are you feeling okay? Don’t do this again. Whatever it is, Mom will help you get through it.” A woman rushed over and hugged her, sobbing as she repeated these phrases into Emily’s ear. Emily was bewildered, letting the woman hold her without understanding what had happened. Who is Emily? Where is this? Hadn’t she died? Her gaze scanned the hospital room, landing on a man standing aside, restraining his emotions. She was certain she didn’t know these two people. They claimed to be her parents, but her real parents would never have been overjoyed or tearful at her rescue. An absurd thought began to form in her mind. The woman who claimed to be her mother finally let go of her. She looked a bit haggard; although her demeanor and attire were once gentle and refined, now she appeared somewhat disheveled. Emily looked at her, silently keeping her mouth closed. Fortunately, the two assumed she was silent due to physical reasons, so they didn’t respond intentionally. Following the principle of “say less to avoid mistakes,” Emily spent the day merely responding politely or smiling. During a break to use the restroom, she quickly glanced in the mirror. Sure enough, she had been reborn. But not into her own body; instead, she was in the body of a completely unfamiliar person. She raised her hand and touched this strange face, feeling uneasy and restless. That night, lying on the bed, she thought all night long about her current situation. The next day, upon meeting the Johnsons again, she decisively smiled and said, “Um… I think I might have amnesia.”

When the Johnsons heard that she had amnesia, they were quite surprised. They seemed unwilling to believe it, asking her several questions while she was completely baffled. They called in doctors, who after examining her could only say it was a side effect, and that it might pass with time. Emily cooperated obediently throughout the entire process. She followed the principle of “speak all she knows.” After all, she really didn’t know anything; even if they suspected something was wrong, they wouldn’t have guessed that the core of this body had been replaced. After various tests and probes, they finally believed that she truly had “amnesia.” The couple likely felt deep guilt toward their daughter. Although she didn’t know what exactly had happened to them, she could definitely sense their kindness and attempts at making amends. Thus, under the pretense of amnesia, she gradually got to know this family bit by bit. The Johnson family was quite wealthy and prestigious; they ran a Global Trade Corporation and were prominent figures in their circles. Fortunately, Emily’s previous family wasn’t too bad either; otherwise, suddenly stepping into such a social class might have made it years before she could fully adapt. After being discharged from the hospital, she immediately followed the Johnsons back to their home. During this time, they introduced her little by little, and she gradually became familiar with her new living environment. The girl she had replaced was named Emily Johnson, and she was still a high school student, the same age as her. Only after being discharged did Emily realize that the SATs were just around the corner. After discussing with the Johnsons, they decided not to return to school and instead do private tutoring at home until the SATs. She insisted on taking the SATs that day as well. In her original body, if she hadn’t drowned, she would have been at the age to take the SATs. Under the arrangement of the Johnsons, she picked up her textbooks again. Those unchangeable pieces of knowledge finally made her feel alive in this world once more. She threw all her energy into studying; this time, no one was obstructing her, and she could finally do what she wanted to do. After finishing the SATs, she successfully got into her desired university and major. Just when she thought everything was starting to improve and she would begin a completely new life, she met someone at university whom she never wanted to see again. Her own sister, Ashley Campbell. 3. Coincidentally, Emily and Ashley ended up as roommates. Under Emily’s insistence, she didn’t let her parents send any housekeepers to the dorm; making the bed and tidying up were all done by herself. Her parents were pleased to see how orderly she had arranged her dorm, their faces filled with satisfaction. The other two girls in the dorm also did everything themselves, seeming quite friendly. Emily quickly became close with them, chatting and laughing, and they agreed to go get a water card and stroll around campus together later. It was at this moment that Ashley arrived. She came in with bags and suitcases, filling the dorm hallway, and because she arrived late, only the bed near the door was left for her. “You, give me your bed.” Emily had already told her parents to leave, and now, while still tidying up her bed, Ashley singled her out. Seeing her acting bossy as usual, Emily gave a slight smile. Did she still think Emily was still Emma (Jiangya)? “No way.” She glanced at Ashley coolly, not missing the other two roommates’ inadvertently furrowed brows. Anyone who sees a new troublemaker in the dorm would not be too happy. “You won’t give it?” Ashley looked quite stunned; after all, she had always been attention-seeking in front of Emily from childhood, never having experienced rejection. But the sister she had bullied, Emma, was already dead in the water. Now she was in the body of Emily Johnson. Ashley didn’t argue with her; instead, she turned and threw herself into the arms of the Johnsons, sobbing softly, “Dad, Mom, I just want to live in that bed…” “It’s okay, Dad and Mom will decide for you.” The Johnsons hadn’t changed at all; whenever Ashley cried, they rushed to support her. At this moment, after comforting Ashley, Dad Johnson looked at Emily with a stern face, “Young lady, my daughter likes that bed, you need to give it to her quickly.” “Am I your daughter’s great-aunt? Why should I accommodate her?” Seeing Dad Johnson’s so-called entitlement, the suppressed anger inside Emily surged uncontrollably, “I like your daughter’s eyes so much, should I gouge them out for her?” “How can you talk like that!” Mom Johnson scolded her harshly, “My daughter has her eyes on your bed, that’s your blessing. Just give it to her quickly!” “Sorry, I don’t deserve such a blessing.” Emily gave a cold glance at the Johnsons, having no interest in saying even half a word. If she had known Ashley would come to this university, she would have no hesitation in changing schools to avoid the Johnsons. Being disgusted by them in her past life was enough; she didn’t want anything to do with them in this life. “You unreasonable brat!” Mom Johnson was an amplification of Ashley’s personality. Instead of reflecting on the Johnsons’ arrogance, she turned around to hurl insults at Emily. One of the roommates frowned and said, “First come, first served. How can you bully someone?” “What’s it to you?” Mom Johnson shot back with a sentence, making the roommates laugh out of frustration, while she arrogantly stared at Emily, “It’s just money, isn’t it? Tell me, how much will you accept?” “In that case, I won’t let go unless it’s eighteen million.” Seeing Mom Johnson wanting to scold her again, Emily preemptively said, “It’s your business; whether you want to change it or not.” “Mom, forget it.” At this moment, Ashley opened up sadly, “It’s just a bed, I won’t exchange it. It’s not worth that much.” Mom Johnson looked pitifully at Ashley, clutching her tightly as she angrily glared at Emily. “My daughter is the most understanding one.” Dad Johnson smiled with satisfaction, while Emily looked at the two roommates’ expressions, which were as if they had swallowed flies—she felt like vomiting. She couldn’t even bother dealing with that strange family; as long as they stayed out of her way. 4. Ashley settled into the bed by the door. All the tidying up was done by housekeepers, while Ashley bid farewell with reluctant words to the Johnsons. Emily watched the happy and harmonious scene of the three of them with a cold eye, feeling a pang of coldness in her heart. Although the Johnsons were her parents, they had never treated her so gently before. At the Johnsons’ home, the most she heard was that, right or wrong, she always had to accommodate Ashley, the sister. Sometimes, she even doubted whether she was truly their biological daughter. Since they chose to give birth to her, and she had never shown any disobedience, why did they treat her so harshly? Just because she was the older sister? The housekeepers had already arranged everything perfectly, and the Johnsons finally left. The two roommates hesitated and looked at Emily, eventually calling out to Ashley, “We’re going shopping. Do you want to come?” “No.” Ashley rolled her eyes, completely losing her usual polite and gentle demeanor in front of her parents. The two roommates didn’t seek any more trouble, called Emily along, and left together. Throughout their walk, the most discussed topic was their new roommate, Ashley. Emily listened quietly without commenting. Having interacted with Ashley for eighteen years, she knew Ashley’s two-faced nature all too well. She just didn’t expect that after she and her roommates went shopping and returned to the dorm, her bed was in total disarray as if it had been robbed, with organized things scattered everywhere. Meanwhile, the two roommates’ beds remained perfectly intact, showing no signs of tampering. Such obvious targeting made her laugh with anger. She violently pulled open Ashley’s bed curtain; Ashley was lying down playing with her phone. Upon meeting eyes, Ashley quickly sat up, “What are you doing!” “I also want to ask you why you messed with my stuff?” Emily tightly pinched her palms, afraid she might unintentionally slap Ashley in the face, “Ashley, don’t go too far!” “Do you have evidence?” Ashley stared at her provocatively for two seconds, then showed a pitiful expression, “Emily, I really haven’t done anything. We’ve just met, why are you being so harsh with me…” “There’s only you in the dorm.” Emily looked at her coldly as she acted, “If someone stole your stuff, they would all suffer. Can’t you spare me? Do I need to spell it out?” “But I really don’t know anything.” As Ashley continued, she started crying, “Emily, why are you bullying me?” “Emily, stop it.” The two roommates whispered to her, giving her glances. She knew what they wanted to say; without surveillance in the dorm, no matter what she said, Ashley could always deny it. But this situation was like lice on a bald head, who did it is clear as day. She bit her teeth, tossed her sleeves and turned to start packing her things, already thinking about installing security cameras in the dorm. But Ashley kept crying persistently, “Emily, why are you slandering me?” “I haven’t done anything, but you came running and started yelling at me. It’s about the roommates, how can you bully me like this?” “If you bully people like this, don’t you feel guilty?” “Wah, I want to go find a teacher!” Ashley’s crying became even more intense, making Emily’s temples throb. She couldn’t help but angrily shout, “Shut up!” Just like before, she was infuriating! But Ashley cried even harder, adding a huge accusation, “Emily, this is campus bullying. I can sue you!” “Then go sue me!” Emily was so annoyed; her stuff was crashing loudly, maybe she should consider changing dorms? If it continued like this, she wouldn’t be able to study at all; battling with Ashley would drain all her energy and passion. “Cut it out.” The roommates quickly tried to mediate, helping her pack her things. She angrily glanced at Ashley, seeing her with tear-filled eyes but with a provocative smile raised in her eyebrows. She squinted her eyes. Is this because they had a grudge over the bed issue? 5. Putting Ashley’s issues aside, she still longed for college life. New classmates were quite friendly. However, the campus gossip group was very powerful; everyone in the Economics and Management department knew each other’s backgrounds and who was the most attractive. This information quickly spread on the University Bulletin Board. Unfortunately, the Johnson family wasn’t as famous as the Jiang family, and Ashley’s looks were inferior to Emily Johnson’s. Emily became the beauty of the Economics and Management department, leaving Ashley ten miles behind. A few days after the semester started, a group of followers surrounded her; although she kept a cold face every day, those people still couldn’t be driven away. But privately, she had a good relationship with the two roommates; they were happy to hang out with her. The three of them went in and out together, with many people swirling around her. Every time they went somewhere, it was a lively group, whereas Ashley’s side was much quieter. Every time Ashley looked at her, her eyes shimmered with jealousy, and Emily couldn’t be bothered to acknowledge her. Nothing matched her, so why bother with the clown? “She’s just a peacock.” Everyone brought dinner back to the dorm to eat. Emily and her roommates were chatting when Ashley unexpectedly threw out a comment. After saying that, she glanced at Emily with an implied meaning. Emily made a ‘muah’ sound towards the newly installed security camera in the corner, “Don’t blame me for not warning you.” With such a troublemaker around, when she consulted her two roommates for opinions, they both raised their hands and legs in agreement, with no objections whatsoever. She couldn’t afford to provoke her, so she decided to find ways to defend against her. “Hmph, I’ll sue you all for invading my privacy without asking for my consent.” Ashley angrily jabbed at her food, her eyes extremely hostile as she looked at Emily. Emily didn’t bother to respond, instead turning to her roommates and saying, “Didn’t we just talk about your sister? Let’s continue our conversation.” “My sister is so strict; when I didn’t do my homework well as a kid, she would yell at me.” “My sister was the same. I took plenty of her hits.” Though the two roommates were complaining verbally, their faces were still filled with smiles, radiating a strong sense of sisterly affection that even a blind person could see. Emily was momentarily stunned. Her relationship with Ashley was poor; was it because she never hit her? But if she dared to be harsh to Ashley, there would be no need for Ashley to do anything. The biased Johnsons would beat her up severely. “Don’t your parents tell your sister to be accommodating to you?” Curiously, she asked, and the two roommates exchanged glances, then smiled, “No, whoever’s wrong gets punished. Although my sister hits me, whenever there’s something good or fun, it’s all given to me first. I love my sister the most.” “Me too.” The roommates smiled sweetly, but Emily felt bitter inside. All the good and fun things were given to Ashley first; why did Ashley need her care? After all, it was bias that created the fiercely combative Emma and the domineering yet pretentious Ashley. Emily and the Johnsons didn’t have that familial bond. 6. “Emily, are you an only child?” The roommates asked curiously. She glanced at Ashley, who had a face full of resentment, and nodded, “Yes, I don’t have any brothers or sisters.” There used to be, but with Emma’s death, it all disappeared. “Then from now on, we’ll be your sisters.” The roommates smiled kindly, scooping their favorite dishes into her bowl. She felt moved, but before she could respond, Ashley snorted coldly, “Don’t think about your backgrounds or anything. Ashley doesn’t care about you two.” The two roommates’ smiles stiffened, awkwardly shifting. They were both from ordinary families, having worked hard to get into this prestigious university, without any boastful family backgrounds. But Emily didn’t care about any of that. Scooping food into their bowls, she earnestly said, “I do.” The two roommates smiled gratefully at her. Ashley snickered nearby, “Emily, you’re just pretending. You just want to trick them into running errands for you.” “I don’t have sisters; I just like having many sisters for the fun.” She responded indifferently, but Ashley laughed, tears welling up in her eyes, “Do you think I don’t have a sister? Let me tell you, having a sister like mine is just to be bossed around!” “You!” The roommates were annoyed, while Emily simply nodded, “Then your sister is truly pitiful.” In Ashley’s heart, what was Emma? “Your sister having a sister like you is the worst curse in eight generations!” The two roommates, who had always been mild-mannered, couldn’t help but start cursing, “Sisters are supposed to support each other, share blessings, and bear hardships together. You’re the only one who thinks this relationship is so rotten!” “Your sister is so pitiful. You should cut ties with her as soon as possible.” “Hurry up, stop ruining her life!” They angrily cursed, and Emily felt her palms tighten in her heart. After so many years, someone was finally speaking up for her. The feeling of genuine care was indeed wonderful. “She’s already dead.” But Ashley giggled coyly, looking quite pleased, “She and I fell into the water at the same time, but my parents favored me, abandoned her to save me, so she drowned in the water.” Emily, “…” She just wanted to ask, can she curse this bastard to death? The two roommates were shocked, staring dumbly at Ashley, “Are you even human?” “Hmph, she was never likable. It was perfect that she died.” Ashley disdainfully poked at her food, her fork and knife sharp as blades, as if poking directly into her soul, making her feel excruciating pain. How could she say such joyful news of her death so easily? Is she even human! 7. “Wash my bowl, I’m ordering takeout.” Ashley naturally pointed at the roommates, but the roommates, who still held some fear of her, directly coldly refused with stern faces. No one paid her any more attention. But Ashley took her frustration out on Emily. Emily’s things started disappearing intermittently again or acquired strange smells, and every time she lost something, the security cameras would go black. Everyone knew who was doing it, but they couldn’t get evidence. The two roommates privately worried and suggested Emily change dorms, fearing she would end up like Emma. Little did they know, she was the very sister their parents had abandoned. And she didn’t want to retreat anymore. Ashley’s grades were as bad as ever; she had been taking classes for quite a while, her books still new as ever. But between her and the two roommates combined, none of them had as broad a social network as she did. She dressed up flamboyantly every day, either to meet her brother or to look for her little brother. Moreover, since that day the topic of sisters was discussed, rumors about her began to spread in the department. They said she had a bad reputation, using her looks to secretly hook up with boys. They said she was arrogant and liked to bully others. They even claimed her background was fake, that her family was actually poor, her parents worked odd jobs, and she bought luxury goods every day. For a time, the way classmates looked at her became odd and suspicious. The roommates tried to explain on her behalf, but ended up being cursed as her lackeys, being gossiped about wherever they went. They were so angry their heads seemed to be on fire, while Emily remained calm. She didn’t have much interaction in the department, and the only person she held a grudge against was Ashley. Ashley was trying to use these petty tricks to defame her, but Emily didn’t care. What kind of person was she, that Ashley could ruin her image with just a few words? However, photos began to appear on the University Bulletin Board. An anonymous account had somehow taken pictures of her chatting with Tyler Smith under a tree and posted them online. She thought Tyler would clear things up, but instead, Tyler posted a little essay condemning the account owner in the thread, without clarifying her relationship with him. Ashley’s glances at her became increasingly strange, and many girls began to casually or intentionally probe, asking if she was dating Tyler. For heaven’s sake, Emily and Tyler weren’t even close. However, every accidental encounter with Tyler was blown up on the campus forum, causing many girls to attack her en masse. She was overwhelmed. What’s more bizarre, when she was deep in the whirlwind of rumors, Ashley released so-called evidence of her bullying her. In photos, Ashley had tear-stained eyes, looking pitiful, and the posts included a segment of a recording, which was from the day school started, when Emily found her things being thrown around and got angry at Ashley. At that time, she had been in a fit of rage, and the phrase “You go sue me” had become the point of intense criticism. Moreover, the sound of her things crashing was also being portrayed as her violently beating Ashley. The roommates had already been cursed as accomplices and couldn’t show their faces anymore. Every day, girls were curious, banging on their dorm door to watch the drama, some consoling Ashley, saying Emily wouldn’t have a good retribution. Meanwhile, Ashley was pretending to be innocent and pitiful, coming up with different ways to annoy her and her roommates. Then she saw a picture of Tyler holding Ashley.

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