Author: Momo Chan

I’m just an innocent little flower protected by my brother. The girl who bullies me likes my brother and wants me to introduce them. But she doesn’t know that my brother will kill anyone who has ever bullied me. My brother buries his face in my neck, breathing heavily. “Aria, you smell so good.” I tremble beneath him. “Let go of me.” He’s holding me too tightly. My brother laughs. “You’ll have to let go of me first, Aria.” “You’re gripping me so tightly down there, how can I let go?” He forces tears from my eyes. I frantically slap his shoulders. He reaches out to wipe away the tears from the corner of my eye, then sucks his finger into his mouth. “Aria, you look so beautiful when you cry.” “…”

I jolt awake from the dream, clutching my blanket tightly. How could I dream about doing that with my brother… I must be going crazy! It must be because of my condition that I… Suddenly, out of the corner of my eye, I see someone standing by my bed. My pupils constrict in fear. Isn’t the house supposed to be empty today except for me? Seeing that I’m awake, the person walks over to my bedside. As the moonlight falls on him, I finally make out his face. It’s my brother. But this doesn’t relax me at all. If anything, it makes me even more afraid. I know my brother is more terrifying than any psycho killer. Seeing my disheveled state, my brother reaches out to wipe my face. I don’t move. Even when his fingers trail from my cheek down to my collarbone and chest, I still don’t move. I don’t want to show weakness in front of him. It would only make him crazier. He raises his hand and suddenly yanks off the blanket. I hurriedly press my legs together. My brother laughs. “Aria, how can you still be wetting the bed at your age?” There’s a wet patch on the sheets. It’s not from wetting the bed, it’s… My face flushes red uncontrollably. My brother says: “Who were you dreaming about, Aria?” I choke out: “No one.” “Oh?” My brother chuckles softly. “But you kept calling out ‘brother’.” It’s like he’s hit a sore spot. I bristle defensively. “You’re making that up! How could I?” “If it wasn’t me.” My brother looks at me but says: “Aria, you’ve changed.” “You used to always seduce me like a little vixen, but now you’re like a frightened rabbit.” My body starts trembling uncontrollably. “Get out! I never seduced you!” I really didn’t. Back then I just didn’t understand anything. How can you slander me like this?

My brother is a pervert who lusts after me. The first time I realized this was probably when I graduated high school. That day I was watching TV in the living room, my feet propped up on the coffee table, painted toenails swaying gently. My brother sat down next to me and said: “Aria, your feet must be cold.” His fingers twitched a couple times before landing on my feet, massaging them. His touch was just right, very soothing. I dozed off. But half-asleep, I opened my eyes to see my brother’s usually cold expression twisted with desire. And my foot was pressed against his… My heart pounded wildly. An indescribable feeling welled up inside me. I felt so ashamed. I wanted to cry. No wonder my brother never let me date anyone. No wonder my underwear would mysteriously appear in his bedroom. No wonder he was always finding excuses to get close to my body. All those strange signs from before suddenly became clear. But I’m trapped in this house, with no way to escape.

My brother chuckles softly, his tone teasing: “My sweet Aria, I know you can’t bear to be apart from me.” Suddenly, my brother’s gaze falls on my neck. His pupils constrict. The next moment I’m pinned to the bed as he yanks open my collar. My brother demands harshly: “Who bullied you?” It’s over. Even though I’ve been bundling up in the summer, my brother has still seen the injuries on my body. They’re from when Olivia and her gang beat me up at lunch. But I can’t tell my brother that. Tears are forced from my eyes. I shake my head: “No one. No one bullied me.” He stares at me intently. My eyes are full of pleading. “Aria is being naughty,” he says. This position also makes me feel violated. I just want this to end quickly. “Go away. Don’t stay in my room.” His breath fans against my neck. Hatred flashes in my eyes. “Don’t make me hate you.” He sighs helplessly, finally getting up. The door slams shut. I start trembling, curling up in my blanket. My brother is gone, but not completely. The camera in the corner of the room keeps blinking green. A sticky gaze remains fixed on me. I know my brother will be watching my every move. Until dawn breaks.

At midnight, I hide in the camera’s blind spot, crouching down. I cover my mouth, my whole body shaking as tears stream from my eyes. What should I do? Just yesterday, the people who bully me found out that Lucas is my brother. They said they want me to introduce them to my brother. But they don’t know that if my brother finds out someone’s been bullying me, he’ll kill them.

In middle school, my best friend spread rumors that I was a slut, photoshopping nude pictures of me. The whole grade of over 2,000 students was calling me a whore in the group chat. At that time, I kept seeing that best friend around my brother. My brother would buy her bubble tea, pick her up from school, help her with homework. He’d even smile gently and pat her head. Angrily, I said: “I don’t want to see her.” My brother smiled. “Alright, Aria.” “Whatever you say.” That night, my brother came home very late. When I opened the door, I saw my brother wearing a black jacket, slowly taking off red gloves. No, the gloves were white originally, just stained red with something. Seeing me, he walked over and led me to the bedroom, gently coaxing me to sleep. But I could smell a faint scent of blood on my brother. My brother said casually: “I was just helping a friend slaughter a chicken.” I never imagined my brother’s hands that wrote legal documents would slaughter chickens. But the next day, my best friend was found dead in her own room. The blood spatter at the scene was shocking. Even though she had dozens of wounds on her body, the police ruled it a suicide. Because of that certificate of severe depression, and that suicide note. The note said she felt guilty towards me, was under a lot of pressure, had been self-harming for a while, and regretted spreading those rumors about me. So she chose to end her life then. The note was posted in the group chat. The rumors about me were debunked, and many people came to apologize to me. But I realized that when my brother was helping my best friend with homework, he had already perfected imitating her handwriting. … In high school, my math teacher would always use tutoring as an excuse to take me to his office. He would do strange things to me and tell me not to tell my parents. I said I don’t have parents, only a brother. He smiled, his eyes crinkling. “Then let’s keep this a secret from your brother together.” But when my brother couldn’t find me after school one day, he burst in, discovering everything. The math teacher used his authority to pressure the police into not investigating. My brother was just a poor student then, powerless to fight back. He quietly transferred me to a new school, telling me to forget everything. After moving to our new home, my brother started keeping a vicious dog. He wouldn’t let me touch it, just fed it himself every day. Much later, the math teacher caught an STD from fooling around. Then one day on an old, run-down school building… The railing gave way, and the math teacher fell straight down. When he was found, his lower parts were missing. The police determined the fall was an accident, and those parts had been eaten by a dog. The day the news broadcast, my brother sat laughing in front of the TV. He turned to ask me: “Aria, do you like this gift?” That day was my 16th birthday. My brother had just returned from that school building that morning. I looked at him, feeling my heart sink inch by inch. Even though my brother seemed to dote on me so much, I still lived in fear every day. Afraid of angering him and being devoured by him.

The next day, I went to school and entered the classroom. But as soon as I opened the door, a bucket of water came crashing down on my head, drenching me completely. Immediately after, the room erupted in raucous laughter. The whole class was laughing, everyone delighting in seeing me soaked like a drowned rat. I stood frozen in place, aware of a foul odor emanating from my body. Olivia walked up. She wanted to slap my face like before, but hesitated and drew back her hand. She said smugly: “Jack specially scooped this water from the toilet. A few classmates even took a piss in it.” So it wasn’t water, but urine. I wanted to ask for leave to go home and wash up, even if it meant skipping class. But Jack and Chris blocked my way out. Olivia said: “Skipping class is a bad habit. If you dare leave, I’ll tell my dad to expel you. You believe me, don’t you?” Olivia is my classmate, and also the principal’s daughter. I worked so hard to get into this school. I can’t be expelled. Olivia knows this, so she always uses it to threaten me. I could only walk back to my seat step by step. Along the way, everyone covered their mouths, looking at me with disgust. I opened my textbook to find it filled with vicious words written in red pen. “Whore!” “Slut!” That was Alex’s handwriting. I lowered my eyes to see the camera lens hidden in my desk drawer blinking green. Voices sounded around me. Alex said: “I can’t believe this bitch is actually Lucas’s sister!” Jack said: “A dog and a heartthrob, who could’ve imagined that combination?” Chris said: “They can’t be blood related. Wonder how that bitch latched onto Lucas.” … My brother graduated from Oxford Law School. He’s still a legend there even years after graduating. No one could believe someone like me was the sister of someone like him. My brother and I aren’t actually blood siblings. I was adopted by his parents when I was 8, but soon after his parents died in a car accident. So people always said my bad luck caused their deaths. I don’t know if my brother resented me for that back then, but regardless, he still raised me. Many times I’ve hated that I’m not his real sister. Maybe then the shackles of blood relation could restrain this madman, keep him from being so unrestrained with me.

No one would team up with me for PE class. I snuck back to the dorm to change clothes, but was pulled into the equipment room on my way back. Olivia stood there with Jack and his gang, looking down at me imperiously. She stepped forward, ignoring my struggles as she yanked off my clothes and shoved me to the ground. My arms scraped against the floor, leaving bloody scratches. I covered my chest with my hands, trembling. Looking at each of them, I asked: “Why? Why me?” Olivia laughed mockingly: “Because you’re a bitch in heat, that’s why.” “You’re so desperate, of course we have to satisfy you.” Even though Olivia and the others now know Lucas is my brother, they don’t care at all. That day, Olivia had her foot on my shoulder, her hand viciously gripping my face. “What? Are you going to tell anyone about this?” I shook my head, tears streaming down. “No, I won’t say anything.” Finally satisfied, she patted my face. “Good bitch.” Jack looked at me, his eyes full of lust. “I heard people with that condition are extra sensitive.” Chris said: “Wonder if she’s still a virgin?” Alex said: “I’ve wanted to strip her clothes off for so long. Who would’ve thought such an innocent face could be so slutty in private?” They were all tall and strong, closing in on me like that nightmare from a month ago. I was cornered against the wall as they all started taking off their clothes. Olivia sat on the desk, filming us with her phone flashlight on. If the security guard hadn’t come by on patrol, I probably would have been molested then… But now, it seems I can’t escape. I stared at them blankly, suddenly breaking down. My constant yielding had only made them more aggressive. “Just because I have that condition, does that mean I deserve to be abused?”

I have sex addiction. I first found out about this condition when I was a freshman in high school. I was really scared at first, often researching it alone late at night. When I finally understood it, I emerged from my room in a daze. I’ve never even had sex, how could I have this condition? I gritted my teeth, not daring to tell anyone, not even my brother. But when I started college, Olivia stole my phone and accidentally discovered that diagnosis photo. From that day on, my peaceful campus life was over. Even though I hadn’t done anything, everyone thought I was naturally promiscuous. “Bitch”, “slut”, “whore” – these words followed me throughout college. But I’ve been holding back so hard, trying so desperately to act like a normal person!

Their hands reached for my body. Tears streamed from my eyes. I looked at Olivia. “I promise, I’ll introduce you to my brother.” Olivia already hated me, but after discovering I was Lucas’s sister, she hated me even more. But she still hoped to meet Lucas through me, to date her former crush. As soon as I said this, she froze. Her goal achieved, she smirked. “We’ll let you off this time.” Jack got agitated. “You’re playing us!” Olivia slapped him hard. “Shut up.” Because her family was richer than all of them, everyone listened to her. They glanced at me, reluctantly withdrawing their hands. Olivia looked triumphant, clapping her hands. “See, wasn’t that easy?” She doesn’t know, I’m just trying to protect her. But since she wants me to know my place. She can just die.

That afternoon after school, she linked arms with me, acting all friendly as we arrived at the school gates. Jack and the others followed behind, also wanting to meet my brother. He was already leaning against a Porsche waiting for me. My brother affectionately tapped my nose. “Why are you letting me pick you up today?” My brother never uses this tone with others. Olivia’s expression changed. She dug her nails into my arm, breaking the skin. My brother noticed her and asked me: “This is…?” Olivia immediately said: “Hi senior, I’m Aria’s friend. We’re super close~” Jack and the other guys quickly chimed in: “Yeah, Lucas. That’s why she brought us to meet you.” “We had no idea she had such an amazing brother.” My brother’s gaze swept over my slightly trembling body. I hurriedly pulled down my sleeve to hide the scratches Olivia had left, but he still saw them. My brother’s eyes darkened, but he still nodded politely to them. “Hello.” Then he said to me: “Didn’t you say you wanted to go to the amusement park? I’m free today, let’s go.” Olivia dug her nails into me again. I got her meaning and stammered: “My friends all want to go too. Can we bring them along?” My brother never refuses my requests, so he opened the Porsche door. “Kids, get in.” Olivia immediately said sweetly: “Thanks, big bro.” Hearing this, I instinctively looked at her, my body trembling uncontrollably. I had begged her not to call Lucas “big bro”. But it’s like she’s deliberately going against me, still calling him that. She doesn’t know, my brother only allows me to call him that. Sure enough, my brother’s expression changed when he heard it. Olivia sensed something was off and asked innocently: “What’s wrong?” My brother looked at her, his eyes darker than the night, but he laughed softly. “You have a lovely voice.” Olivia lowered her head shyly. “If you like it, I’ll call you that more next time.” I heard Jack and the guys snickering behind me. “Looks like Olivia’s about to marry into money.” “The senior must like Olivia too, why else would he say that?” I gently touched where she had just dug her nails into me, thinking: My brother said that because he wants to slit Olivia’s throat. Because the last person who called him “big bro” died just like that.

My brother is very busy, but today he specially took a day off to entertain my friends. The amusement park was completely empty, not even any staff around. My brother looked at me tenderly, telling them: “I invested in building this amusement park.” “I originally wanted a quiet day alone with Aria, so I had the park close for the day and sent all the staff home.” “If I’d known you were coming too, I would have kept some staff.” Olivia glared at me hatefully. Jack and Chris sighed in admiration at my brother’s wealth and influence. Alex volunteered eagerly: “Senior, then let me try being an amusement park staff.” “I’ve done that kind of work before.” His family is poor, so he often works part-time jobs. The first ride we went on was the river rapids. We put on raincoats and got into the raft. After Alex pressed the start button, the raft carried us into a colorful cave. I tilted my head back, admiring the beautiful projections on the cave walls. I felt my brother’s hand gently rest on my thigh.

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I had just given birth to my daughter a month ago when my husband, Garrett, wanted to have sex with me. I refused, but then I discovered his chat history as a client of prostitutes. The photo showed a young, fair-skinned girl with a seductive gaze. My supposedly frugal husband was even trying to haggle the price by playing the pity card to save money. I couldn’t help but laugh coldly. A man who’s been tainted should stay as far away as possible. My husband, Garrett, was supposed to be a frugal, good man. But he was so stingy that he even tried to haggle with prostitutes by shedding crocodile tears. When I accidentally saw the disgusting chat history on his unlocked phone, I was instantly shaking with anger. It showed that on April 7th, he had found a local beauty on TikTok. He even compared prices and chose the cheapest one. When discussing the price, he tried to haggle by playing the pity card: “I have an 80-year-old mother and a newborn child to support… Can you give me a discount this time? How about $50 less?” After getting a compromise, the woman asked him to book a hotel room. He hesitated for a long time and asked if he could come to his home when his wife was out. The woman exploded with profanity: “You fucking cheapskate! You can’t even afford a room and still want to find a woman? Dream on! You poor bastard, your wife really hit the jackpot marrying you!” After that, she blocked my husband. I didn’t find any transfer records either. Apparently, it was his empty wallet that forced him to extinguish his lustful fire in its infancy. I remembered that April 7th was my birthday. That evening, Garrett had specially prepared a big dinner and even shamelessly said he wanted to have sex with me, which I refused because my body hadn’t recovered yet. I never expected he would turn around and try to hire a prostitute! No wonder they say that married men’s phones are almost always a sure bet – there’s no such thing as an absolutely clean man. But when I confronted him, Garrett showed no remorse at all. He even let out a disdainful “huh.” “You can still yell. I see you’re not weak at all,” he said. “I’m a man with normal physiological needs. What’s wrong with wanting to relax occasionally? I didn’t actually hire a prostitute. I’ve been holding back long enough during your pregnancy. I took care of you when you were in the hospital, bringing you food and helping you use the bathroom… Am I not good enough?” His words, accompanied by flying spittle, hit my face. He sounded so self-righteous. I silently closed my eyes. This was the consequence of my impulsive decision to marry and have a child, blinded by love. Smelling his breath, I suddenly felt nauseous and rushed to the bathroom to vomit. At that moment, I felt a dull pain in my lower abdomen. Sitting on the toilet, I noticed some bleeding. I felt weak and dizzy, with no strength left. “Honey, my stomach hurts, and I’m bleeding a little. Can you take me to the hospital first?” I asked. But Garrett thought I was faking it and scoffed. “Why are you making such a fuss? Stop pretending. Do you want me to call an ambulance and send you to the ICU?” His sarcasm was almost the last straw that broke the camel’s back. I blacked out and finally fainted next to the toilet. When I opened my eyes again, it was broad daylight, and I was lying in a hospital bed. The doctor happened to be doing rounds. “Patient Zoe in bed 07, you had postpartum hemorrhage last night. There were retained products of conception that weren’t fully expelled. Combined with emotional distress, mood swings can lead to postpartum hemorrhage.” Seeing my husband dozing off by the bed, his eyelids heavy with sleep, I quickly asked him where our child was. “I’ve already asked my mom to take care of her. Don’t worry, focus on getting better,” he said. Perhaps my pale and weak appearance stirred a bit of conscience in him. He held my hand guiltily and said, “Zoe, I’m sorry. It’s all my fault. I had a few drinks yesterday and dared to lose my temper with you. I forgot you haven’t fully recovered after giving birth.” I narrowed my eyes and pulled my hand away from his. He should know what explanation I was waiting for. Garrett sighed. “I did… look for women online, but I’m frugal and didn’t actually go through with it! As you saw, I was just curious for a moment. I really know I was wrong.”

Before this, I had never checked my husband’s phone. It stemmed from my belief in the beauty of marriage, thinking that trust should come first between spouses. But this accidental discovery of his online search for women made me doubt everything. Garrett said he didn’t dare to actually go through with it, fearing sexually transmitted diseases. He just thought about it. “How could I dare to hire a prostitute? I was just frustrated during your postpartum period. You wouldn’t agree to have sex, so I had some wayward thoughts. But I definitely wouldn’t dare to actually do it. I was just talking to satisfy my urges,” he said. That night, he wrote me a promise letter and repeatedly apologized until I finally let the matter drop. However, I still felt uneasy deep down. After being discharged and recovering, I went to vent to my best friend. My best friend had just ended a failed marriage, the reason being her husband’s infidelity. I told her, “Garrett’s emotional cheating, I guess. After all, he didn’t actually hire a prostitute or find a mistress. Our child is still so young, maybe I can tolerate it for now.” But my friend said I had “pregnancy brain.” “Do you know what my ex-husband said when we divorced? Out of ten men over thirty, nine have hired prostitutes. And to avoid being caught through transfer records, they all use cash.” I took her words to heart. When I got home that evening, my mother-in-law, who had been looking after my daughter, had already packed up and returned to her hometown as soon as she heard I was coming back. Only my daughter’s piercing cries remained in the house. I picked up my daughter with a heavy heart and complained to my husband about his mother leaving without saying goodbye. Garrett was very displeased: “My mom is getting on in years. It’s already good enough that she can look after the child for you!” I retorted directly: “If she didn’t want to take care of the child from the beginning, she didn’t have to come. I could have asked my mom to come over! You were the one who actively asked your mother to come. And what do you mean ‘look after the child for me’? Aren’t you the child’s father?” Garrett was stumped and turned away, muttering under his breath. “Huh, only you would know if I’m really the father…” I took a deep breath, feeling like there was a mountain pressing on my chest. I didn’t want to say another word. My month-old daughter was still crying incessantly, her voice hoarse. No matter how I tried to comfort her, it was to no avail. “Damn it, so annoying,” Garrett cursed. Unable to bear her crying, he swore and stormed out to stay at a hotel. At six in the morning, after a sleepless night, I finally welcomed my child’s maternal grandmother. My mom, who often heard old people in the village talk about superstitions, said that this time the baby might have seen something unclean and was frightened out of her wits, which is called infant convulsions. So, my child’s grandmother and I tried calling back her soul and patting her, struggling for two whole days before she got better. We were exhausted to the point of seeing stars. During these two days, Garrett didn’t come home at night. He came back drunk early this morning and fell asleep on the couch. I was already so tired that my vision was blurry. As I bent down to tidy up, I unconsciously moved the weight scale. As a result, it automatically displayed the last measurement data: “Your last measured weight was 99 lbs, on April 12th at 19:31.” I had maintained a weight of 114 lbs for over a year, and I was in the hospital yesterday. It couldn’t have been me. So who measured it? This weight seemed to be that of a woman, and many people instinctively step on a scale when they see one. I frowned, suddenly noticing a strange smell. I carefully crouched down. Sure enough, I smelled a faint scent of sex on the back of the couch. He actually brought a woman home and cheated on the couch in front of our daughter! I was burning with anger, finally understanding why my daughter had been frightened into convulsions. I could only imagine how intense their activity must have been. At this moment, Garrett let out a satisfied snore, smacked his lips, and turned over. The phone he had been lying on fell to the floor.

I quickly checked his phone again. It wasn’t password-protected and showed nothing unusual. However, when I took out the wallet from his jacket pocket, a SIM card ejector pin fell out. Who would carry this around? Could it be that he frequently changes SIM cards? Sure enough, in a hidden compartment, I found another SIM card belonging to Garrett. After inserting it into the phone, all the cloud-backed information records appeared. I was already numb with anger but couldn’t help but mock him — What a frugal good man indeed, too stingy to even buy a spare phone, having to constantly swap SIM cards just to cheat. The message records were overflowing with obscene content. The other party said she was a college student working part-time, a good girl with excellent academic performance, clean and hygienic. Garrett asked: “Baby, send me a photo. Let me see if you’re really a college student.” She sent a photo of herself in black fishnet stockings, partially covering her face like embracing a pipa. She was dressed as a sexy wild cat, with full silicone breasts and an alluring peach-shaped bottom. This is exactly what men like. “Hot enough for you, baby?” she asked. But you could tell from the background that it was a dorm room, and her clothes were cheap. No wonder she accepted the meager offerings from my stingy husband, calling a sleazy man over a decade older than her “baby.” My husband was grinning from ear to ear. “I like you, baby.” After one “transaction,” Garrett sent her a message: “I didn’t bring enough money this time. I’ll definitely make it up next time!” “Okay, baby,” she agreed readily. He could even get credit? Looking closely, I realized that my husband had been lying about being a big boss who often forgets to bring cash, all to get credit. The young girl’s price wasn’t low, and he even spent a few dozen dollars to send her a fake designer bag. So the girl believed him. Indeed, naive young girls are the easiest to fool. They’re no match for older men. When she asked Garrett, “Baby, is your wife very ugly?” Garrett seriously replied, “Don’t talk nonsense. My wife just gave birth and is very busy taking care of the family. She controls the family finances, otherwise I wouldn’t need to ask you for credit.” Laughable. My husband is truly touching. How can he completely separate his cheating body from his supposedly caring heart for his wife? I took a deep breath, looking at the man sleeping soundly on the couch, trying hard to calm my nerves after just recovering from illness. Many married women at this point might choose to turn a blind eye, considering their husband’s contribution to the family. But I won’t. A man who has touched roadside flowers is too dirty. I don’t want him. He can get as far away as possible. But before kicking him out, I must make him pay for hurting me and our daughter! … That night, I didn’t startle the snake in the grass. In my current exhausted state, being hysterical would only backfire. The first thing I did was go to the hospital for HIV and other STD screenings. Only after confirming I was fine did I breathe a sigh of relief. My best friend had used some high-tech methods when catching her ex-husband cheating. She gave me a voice recorder, “Cheating and hiring prostitutes are essentially the same. They both betray your marriage. Only by obtaining evidence to prove he’s at fault can you gain more rights legally.” Although TV dramas are full of scenes of catching cheaters red-handed, it’s not so easy in reality. Stingy men’s thoughts are not as simple as their wallets, but rather more profound. He even knows to check for hidden cameras when traveling, so setting up cameras at home to spy would definitely not work. I gripped the voice recorder in my hand, outwardly calm, dutifully taking care of our daughter. I also became gentler in my attitude towards my husband. Even when he threw his smelly socks at my feet, I still greeted him with a smile. He became a bit uneasy, “Honey, why has your temper changed so much? I’m even a little flattered.” I smiled and said it might be due to postpartum hormonal changes, and that my irritable phase had passed. Garrett finally breathed a sigh of relief. To make a person expose their flaws, you must catch them when they’re most relaxed. One evening in late April, I endured nausea and watched an adult movie with him, even letting him take Viagra. In the end, I refused to have sex with him again, citing physical discomfort. His desire had risen but he was met with a closed door. He immediately became furious. “Zoe, what’s wrong with you! Are you looking for a wild man outside to satisfy you?” My silence provoked him even more. This time I didn’t tolerate his abuse. Instead, I talked back, holding our daughter and declaring I was going back to my mother’s house. “Go back then! Don’t think about using any money from my salary card once you’re gone!” Garrett shouted in his rage. In his fury, he didn’t forget to snatch away the salary card he had just given me a few days ago. I laughed coldly, turned around without looking back, and left with our daughter. The voice recorder I left in the bedroom went unnoticed by him. I knew clearly that the effects of that Viagra pill wouldn’t let him give up so easily. I didn’t leave the community. Instead, after entrusting my daughter to my best friend’s care, I personally staked out in the car downstairs. Sure enough, an hour later, I spotted a beautiful silhouette. The girl looked about twenty, with unremarkable features, but her silicone-filled body was like an inflatable doll, resembling a ripe peach about to burst. However, the pretty girl hesitated for a long time downstairs without going up. Instead, she called Garrett. On the voice recorder’s end, my husband excitedly said: “Come up quickly, I can’t wait another second. I’m about to explode. I took Viagra today and even put on a pain relief patch. My herniated disc doesn’t hurt anymore!” But this time, the girl paused for a moment. “Mr. Parker, I came this time to ask for the payment from our previous encounters.” “If you’re not willing to settle the full amount at once, I won’t come up,” she said. Garrett was silent for a long time on the other end. The girl explained that every time he said “definitely next time,” he also promised to add interest. So this time, she was asking for the principal plus interest. There was no cash at home, and if Garrett chose to transfer online, it would inevitably leave a trail. I was very curious how my extremely stingy husband would handle this fee of several thousand dollars. But I never expected that on the recorder’s end, a man’s crying sound would suddenly be heard.

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My dad is an Oscar-winning actor. My mom is the top Hollywood agent. To help my boyfriend, I, someone who has never appeared on TV, joined him in a dating reality show. But I never expected to see him confess his love to another girl. “Mia, it’s all thanks to your uncle that I got the chance to join this reality show. I didn’t know you had such an impressive uncle,” Kyle said, beaming with excitement. As a C-list celebrity, getting to be part of Director Jacob Scott’s show was like winning the lottery. Seeing Kyle so happy made me smile, too. After all, I had begged my dad for this favor. Of course, I lied to Kyle—there was no uncle. It was my Oscar-winning father and top-agent mother who made a simple phone call to get me on the show. “Oh, and there’s something else,” I added. “Director Scott gave me two spots, so I’ll also be joining the show as a non-celebrity.” This was my first time stepping into the public eye. My parents had always protected me, so except for Uncle Jacob, no one knew my real identity. Kyle looked a bit stunned when he heard this. “Mia, don’t you prefer the quiet? Won’t this show be too much for you?” As a writer, I’ve grown used to working in peaceful surroundings. I shook my head and smiled. “It’s fine. I can’t stay in quiet spaces forever. It’ll be fun to try something different.” Kyle quickly recovered. “Mia, that’s great! Let’s go on the show together and let the entire country witness our love.”

This was the third season of the dating show, “Love & Paradise,” and since the first two seasons had great ratings, the third one was highly anticipated. Four couples, six of whom were celebrities, and two, including me, were non-celebrities. One of the stars, Chloe Baker, was a huge draw, with half the audience tuning in just for her. To help the contestants bond, we were taken straight to a boat upon arrival, heading to a private island for filming. Kyle, trying to avoid suspicion, didn’t speak to me much and instead laughed and chatted with the other stars. I felt a bit disappointed but understood. If it became known that we were already dating, the audience would definitely criticize us for not being genuine. I glanced over at another non-celebrity, Evan Riley. At 6’1″, tall and handsome, with a cool, distant vibe, he certainly stood out. But once the others heard he was just an office worker, their interest in him faded. After all, everyone here was looking for fame, and an ordinary office worker wouldn’t bring much buzz. It was summer, and the sun was brutal, even out on the water. The other stars, including Kyle, didn’t want to get sunburned, so they all planned to head indoors. “Mia, aren’t you coming inside? You’ll get sunburned out here,” Chloe said sweetly, though her eyes flashed with something less friendly. I caught it right away. I didn’t know why she had it out for me. I glanced at Kyle, but he didn’t even look my way, let alone say anything.

The show hadn’t even started yet, and the avoidance was already this extreme? Feeling more disappointed, I replied, “No, I’m fine. You guys go ahead.” “Chloe, you’re too kind. Some people just don’t appreciate good intentions. Best to ignore them in the future,” Sarah Bennett, another actress, chimed in. I looked at Sarah, a supporting actress who was pretty enough but whose calculating gaze made her seem less attractive. “Is that so?” Chloe said softly. “I was just trying to be friendly, but I guess I overstepped.” What on earth? I hadn’t even refused to go inside—how did this turn into a whole scene? Before the filming even began, they’d already pushed me and Evan to the sidelines, and Kyle hadn’t defended me once. Soon, we arrived at the destination. I was shocked as I looked around, recognizing the place immediately. If I wasn’t mistaken, this was my family’s estate. My dad loves traveling and has bought several properties on private islands, all designed by world-renowned architects. No wonder Uncle Jacob had insisted I come along—he wanted to use our estate for the shoot.

Chloe and the others were awestruck by the estate’s luxury. “This place is gorgeous!” “It must cover hundreds of acres!” “Waking up to an ocean view every day—what a dream!” While they were all buzzing with excitement, I stood quietly to the side. My dad had brought my mom and me here several times. The first visit was exciting, but after a few trips, the novelty wore off. My dad moved on to exploring other islands, so we hadn’t been here in a long time. Noticing my silence, Chloe raised an eyebrow. “Mia, why aren’t you saying anything? Not happy with the filming location?” “Chloe, I think you might be misunderstanding Mia. She’s probably just stunned, having never seen an estate this grand before,” Sarah said, attempting to sound witty but only coming across as smug. Sure, I thought. Even these stars hadn’t seen a place like this before. What were they expecting from me? I glanced at Kyle, expecting him to maybe say something, but he only looked annoyed. Wait—was he embarrassed by me? “Hah, it’s just an estate. My family has plenty. I’m not talking because I’m not like you—easily impressed,” I snapped back, my patience finally wearing thin.

Chloe and the others didn’t take it well, their faces stiffening. After all, they really had looked like people who’d never seen such grandeur before. “Wow, big talk! Your family owns multiple estates? Why don’t you just say this estate belongs to you, Mia? It’s daytime, you don’t need to start dreaming yet,” Sarah sneered, crossing her arms. I was about ready to drop my luggage and leave, if not for Uncle Jacob’s show. Seeing that I was upset, Uncle Jacob quickly stepped in as a peacemaker. “Alright, let’s move on and get ready to start filming. Everyone, head to the living room for a break,” he said. With that, the group reluctantly dropped the conversation and headed inside. Kyle, dragging his feet, waited until the others were inside before approaching me. “Mia, watch what you say. This is going to air nationwide, and you’ll be the one who looks bad,” he said, pretending to be concerned. “What do you mean I’ll look bad? Kyle, didn’t you hear what they said about me? I’m your girlfriend.” I stared at him, completely disillusioned. I never thought he could say something like this. “Mia,” he glanced around nervously. “We agreed to keep our relationship quiet, remember? Besides, don’t mess with Chloe. Her fanbase could bury you with hate.” Wow, the way he said “Chloe” sounded so affectionate. I gave Kyle a cold look. Maybe it was time to reconsider this relationship.

Once inside, Uncle Jacob announced the start of filming. The first game involved winning room assignments. We would pair up and play games to decide the room selections. If we were judging by physique, Evan Riley, tall and fit, would be the first pick. But since he was a non-celebrity, Chloe and Sarah passed on him. Chloe turned to Kyle. “Kyle, I want the first room on the left.” Kyle, oozing confidence, replied, “I’ve got it covered.” What a jerk. My usually mild temper was starting to boil over. I marched up to Evan. “Let’s team up. I want that first room on the left, too.” Evan raised an amused eyebrow and quietly agreed, “Sure.” Kyle frowned, clearly wanting to say something, but with cameras on him, he just gave me a frustrated glare. I ignored him and dragged Evan into the game. The first challenge was a ball-toss game. The guys had buckets tied to their waists, and we girls had to throw balls from two meters away. The pair that caught the most balls would win. Though I usually spent my time writing, my dad had built me a private gym. Between writing, I worked out regularly, so I was in pretty good shape. Chloe and Sarah, on the other hand, were fragile and ate almost nothing to stay thin. Their weak throws rarely landed in their partners’ buckets. It didn’t take long for Evan and me to pull ahead. We won the first round easily. “Yes!” I high-fived Evan, feeling elated. Evan smiled at me. “This is the first time I’ve seen you smile so brightly. It suits you.” Of course I was smiling—Kyle and Chloe’s faces looked like they’d just swallowed lemons. Wait, how did Evan notice I hadn’t smiled much before?

The next challenge was a balloon-popping game. We were both tied to balloons, and the goal was to pop them by pressing against each other. The pair that finished fastest would win. Because I wasn’t that familiar with Evan, I hesitated, and we ended up taking longer, finishing in third place. Chloe and Kyle won. They acted like a real couple, completely ignoring boundaries, practically glued to each other. I noticed Kyle’s hands wandering to Chloe’s private areas more than once, and she didn’t seem to mind, holding him tight. By this point, I wasn’t even fazed. My disappointment in Kyle had reached its peak. Evan, on the other hand, felt embarrassed. “Sorry, I slowed us down. I’ll make sure to win the next game.” “Don’t worry about it,” I smiled. At first, I’d been fired up to beat Chloe and Kyle, but now, seeing how things were, it didn’t seem worth it. Still, Evan won the next game for us. Kyle, meanwhile, lost his temper and took it out on Evan, accidentally injuring his face during the game. This man-child, I thought. I couldn’t believe I ever liked him. In the end, I chose the room Chloe had wanted all along—the one with the ocean view, the one I always stayed in when visiting the estate. No way was I going to let her have it. Evan picked the room across from mine. Since then, Chloe had been in a constant bad mood, and despite Kyle’s attempts to cheer her up, she barely acknowledged him. I have no idea what Kyle whispered to her at the end, but whatever it was, it brought a smile back to her face.

Since I decided to let go of Kyle, I felt a weight lift off my shoulders. Whatever Chloe and Kyle did together was none of my business anymore. It had been a while since I last visited the island, so I figured I might as well enjoy my time here. I unpacked quickly since I knew where everything in the room was. After all, I had decorated this room myself. When I walked into the living room, it was empty. Everyone was still in their rooms, settling in, and I could hear occasional exclamations as they discovered various decor pieces. Most of the items in the estate were specially commissioned by my dad from well-known designers and included a lot of rare collectibles. Things you wouldn’t easily find anywhere else. I shrugged, not too impressed, and wandered into the kitchen. At this estate, everything was DIY—no staff to cook for us, so dinner was something we had to prepare ourselves. Even though I didn’t cook often, I could handle simple dishes. I pulled out some vegetables and started preparing a basic stir-fry. A few minutes later, Evan walked into the kitchen. When he saw me cooking, he immediately offered to help. After spending the day with him, I’d grown to like him more. He was easy to be around. “What do you like to eat?” I asked. “I’ll make something for you.” Evan smiled again, that calm and warm smile of his. “Anything is fine with me. I’m not picky.” He really was an easygoing guy. As we cooked, I heard the voices of Chloe and Sarah coming from the living room. “Chloe, there’s a painting in my room that’s worth over a million dollars! I looked it up!” Chloe nodded. “I have a porcelain vase that looks pretty valuable, too. The show’s producers really pulled out all the stops. I wonder who owns this estate.” “Obviously, it’s because of you, Chloe. The producers must have wanted to impress you! The estate’s owner probably jumped for joy when they heard you were coming,” Kyle’s voice chimed in from behind, his flattery making Chloe giggle.

“Oh, stop it, Kyle. You’re just teasing,” Chloe replied with a playful smile. “I’m serious! You’re such a star right now. The estate owner would be honored to have you here. Heck, they’d probably dedicate the room you’re staying in to you!” Kyle’s words brought out an even bigger smile from Chloe. She was clearly eating up his praise. “You know, people only get their rooms dedicated to them after they’re dead,” Evan remarked dryly from across the room, bringing their lively conversation to an abrupt halt. I couldn’t help but burst into laughter. Evan’s bluntness was perfect. “Mia, what’s so funny?” Chloe snapped, her annoyance immediately redirected toward me. “Oh, nothing. I just thought of something funny,” I replied innocently. “What’s so funny?” Chloe pressed, refusing to let it go. “Are you laughing at me?” “No, it’s just that…my dog had puppies,” I said, barely containing my laughter. Evan grinned, catching on quickly. “Yeah, my dog just had puppies, too.” I couldn’t hold it in any longer and laughed out loud. This guy was too much. Chloe’s face flushed with anger, her eyes reddening with frustration. “Mia! How dare you pick on Chloe? Apologize right now!” Kyle marched over, his face full of fake outrage, even throwing me a subtle look as if he expected me to cave in. I rolled my eyes and ignored him, turning to Evan instead. “Evan, how about I make some scrambled eggs with tomatoes? It’s one of my specialties.” Evan’s smile widened. “I’d love to try it.” “Mia!” Kyle shouted, clearly upset that I was ignoring him. He reached out to push me, but Evan was quicker, grabbing Kyle’s arm before he could touch me. “What? You want to hit a woman?” Evan asked coldly. “Let go of me!” Kyle snarled, trying to yank his arm away, but Evan held firm. “Listen up,” Evan said in a low voice. “In the future, you talk. You don’t touch.” He let go of Kyle’s arm, sending him stumbling back a step. Kyle’s face flushed with embarrassment. What a weakling.

Dinner was finally ready, and Evan and I dug in, enjoying the meal together. Sarah eventually wandered into the kitchen, looking around for food, but finding none, she pouted and approached us. “Mia, I want to eat, too. Make me a plate.” Then Kyle spoke up again. “Oh, and I saw ribs in the kitchen. Why don’t you whip up some sweet and sour ribs for Chloe? While you’re at it, you should apologize to her.” His request almost made me laugh out loud. The nerve of him! Just moments ago, he was angry with me, and now that he was hungry, he was acting all friendly? I wasn’t having it. “Are you guys serious?” I snapped. “What do you think this is? Do I look like your personal chef? I’m not your mom, so stop expecting me to cook for you.” Letting all my frustration out felt incredibly satisfying. “Mia, watch what you say! I’ll get angry!” Kyle’s face darkened. “Yeah, Mia! What’s with the attitude? Why would you cook for Evan but not for us? We’re all on this show together, yet you’re playing favorites!” Sarah screeched, hands on her hips, as if she had a right to boss me around. I looked at her in disbelief. “You’ve got some nerve. I’ll cook for whoever I want. Don’t act like you’re some innocent victim here. You’ve done plenty, and I’m not blind to it.” Then I turned to Kyle. “And you—why should I care if you’re angry? You want to kiss up to Chloe, go cook for her yourself. We’re not that close.” Kyle’s face stiffened, caught off guard by my response. “We’re not that close? Don’t make things up, Mia!” I gave him a cold smile. “Good. Now that we’ve cleared that up, you guys can figure out your own meals. I’m done playing nice.” With that, I grabbed my plate and walked away, leaving them speechless.

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When I got engaged to my boyfriend, his ex-girlfriend, the one he had always held on a pedestal, came back from abroad—and she brought their twins with her. Tearfully, she looked at me and said, “If you hate me, take it out on me, but Raphael and I are truly in love. Besides, we already have children together. I’m sure you don’t want to be the other woman, right?” I laughed. With my height advantage, I looked down at her and said, “First of all, I’m just taking back what’s mine. Second, when I got together with Raphael, you two had already broken up. So really, it’s you, crashing my engagement party, who’s the other woman here.” When I saw Raphael holding his ex, Emma, and their twins, I just smiled. The way Emma looked at me—it was like she was saying, “What are you so proud of? You’re just a side character.” I think she must’ve seen herself as the main character of some old-school romantic drama. She looked plain and, honestly, didn’t seem all that bright either. I mean, what kind of person would throw challenging looks at me during my engagement party? But I knew it was over. There wasn’t going to be a wedding between Raphael and me after this. Raphael looked serious as he said, “Cindy, I’m sorry. The one I’ve always loved is Emma.” The entire banquet hall buzzed with excitement. After all, I was young, beautiful, highly educated, and came from a well-off family—so much better than Raphael’s broke ex, who couldn’t hold a candle to me. Only Raphael’s friends looked at him with admiration, as if they were in awe of his “deep” love. And they stared at me like I was some kind of jilted woman, laughing behind my back. Of course, people flock together with their own kind. I had loved Raphael for years, given him everything willingly. But it only takes a moment to lose all feelings for someone. I slipped off the diamond ring from my finger, tossed it toward him, and casually smiled. “Fine. Let’s settle up, shall we?” Raphael looked confused. “Settle what?” What a ridiculous question. “I’ve managed your company for years. I’ve invested in it. What do you think we’re settling? Do I look like the kind of idiot who works for free out of love?” Raphael hadn’t expected me to be so decisive. He couldn’t even find the words to respond. But his precious Emma—crying as always—stepped forward to defend him. “Miss Carter, you’re so wealthy. The money you invested in Raphael’s business is nothing to you. Why be so particular about it?” Raphael’s friends chimed in, “Exactly, Cindy. You don’t look like someone who’d be upset over a few bucks.” “Maybe she’s just embarrassed after being dumped at her own engagement party.” “…” Raphael, at least, had a shred of decency and told them, “That’s enough, guys.” But Emma continued sobbing, “Miss Carter, if you’re angry, take it out on me. Raphael and I are truly in love, and we already have kids. You don’t want to be the other woman, right?” I couldn’t help but laugh again. She was playing the victim, thinking her poverty gave her the moral high ground, trying to paint me as the villain. What a saint she thought she was. I leaned down, using my height advantage once again. “First of all, I’m just taking back what’s mine. Second, Raphael and I were together after you two had already broken up. So, showing up at my engagement party to wreck it makes you the other woman.” Emma immediately looked like she’d been hit with the world’s greatest injustice, tears flowing even more. Raphael looked torn, ready to defend her. But I cut him off before he could say a word. “Raphael, you should know, I don’t have much patience.”

Sure enough, Raphael caved. We went to an exclusive country club, where I had a private VIP room. Of course, Emma and her twins tagged along. Raphael and I sat across from each other, while Emma kept the kids busy in the corner, occasionally glancing over at us. Raphael started, “Cindy, I’ll pay you back every cent I owe, but right now, I don’t have enough money. Could you—?” “If you don’t have the money, hand over your projects.” If we’re going to end things, we might as well cut ties completely. I could see that my coldness was starting to shatter whatever image Raphael had of me. He stared at me, stunned. Emma, the typical homemaker type who clearly didn’t understand business, jumped up immediately when she heard I wanted his projects. “How can that be? Cindy, those projects belong to Raphael—” Just hearing her voice made me sick. Did she think standing up for him was helping? Wrong. I wasn’t about to play nice. Her voice only reminded me that she was the reason my relationship ended. “Does this concern you?” Emma looked like she’d been punched, her face scrunching up in hurt, as if I was persecuting her. Raphael, of course, wasn’t happy that I talked to his beloved like that. “Cindy, Emma doesn’t know anything about this. There’s no need to speak to her like that.” He turned to Emma and added, “Cindy negotiated all these deals herself. If she wants to take them, it’s only fair.” I laughed at Raphael’s naïveté. “The deals I negotiated? Of course I’m taking those. But I’m talking about your projects.” Raphael looked shocked. “What are you saying?” I chuckled. “You don’t have money, so pay me with your projects. Is that so hard to understand?” Raphael’s face darkened, like he was holding back a lot of anger. “Cindy, do you really have to be this heartless? Can’t we at least stay friends?” Friends? A man who dumped me at my own engagement party wants to be friends? That’s got to be the biggest joke of the century.

In the end, I didn’t just take the projects I’d secured myself. I also took two of Raphael’s most profitable ones. Those two deals alone would net me more than I ever invested in him over the years. Once I had what I wanted, I walked out. As I left, I could still hear Emma’s whimpering complaints and the twins’ cries. I couldn’t care less. My only focus now was turning those projects into cash. For years, I’d been too busy managing Raphael’s affairs to spend time at my own company, CC Corporation. Negotiations went smoothly for most of the projects. One deal I took from Raphael got approved right away. But another required further evaluation. My company didn’t have much overlap with Raphael’s, so they were concerned about whether I had the expertise to handle it. The next morning, I scheduled a meeting with the head of that company—at the same country club, of course. What I didn’t expect was for Daniel Thomas to show up. He was Raphael’s uncle. In all the years I’d been with Raphael, I’d only met him twice—this being the second time. The man had a powerful presence. From the moment I first met him, I felt a little uneasy around him. Just a little. Daniel smiled, graceful and polite, yet somehow still intimidating. “Why aren’t you coming in?” Daniel had the kind of aura that felt spiritual, yet dangerous. Instinct told me this man was trouble. Raphael was his nephew. Was Daniel agreeing to this deal just to get back at me on his nephew’s behalf? I stepped inside and sat across from Daniel, forcing a smile. “Hello, Mr. Thomas.” Daniel’s mood seemed light. “You remember me?” How could I forget someone like him? “Of course. I met you last year when Raphael brought me home for dinner.” Daniel continued to smile. “Seems I made quite an impression. I’m honored.” That’s Daniel for you—charming and friendly on the surface, but I knew I had to stay on guard. He seemed like the type to smile while stabbing you in the back.

I wasn’t going to take this deal. Not because I was scared, but because I knew when to cut my losses. Before Daniel could make his move, I decided to strike first and back out. “Mr. Thomas, I’m sure you know about everything that happened between Raphael and me. I think it’s best if we don’t work together.” Daniel casually asked, “Why?” Was he really asking? Didn’t he know? “And why are you trying to work with me?” Isn’t it obvious? He’s doing it to get revenge for his nephew. Daniel locked eyes with me. “For you.” I was stunned—not just by his words, but by the way he was looking at me. The raw desire in his eyes made it hard for me to breathe. I couldn’t quite grasp what those three words meant. “What do you mean?” Daniel sat up straighter, smiling with that unsettling charm. “Isn’t it obvious? I’m pursuing you.” His voice was smooth, full of flirtation. Goosebumps spread over my skin. I’d just broken up with his nephew, and now he was coming after me? Who would believe that? I was furious, thinking Daniel must’ve been playing me for a fool. “Daniel, do you think I’m that easy to trick?” Daniel’s gaze shifted to one of admiration, as though my anger amused him. “I’m not lying to you,” he said calmly. I clenched my fists, trying to stay composed. “We’ve only met twice.” “Who says I can’t fall in love at first sight?” Daniel’s tone was so casual, and his expression so unreadable, that I couldn’t tell if he was being serious or just messing with me. My anger shielded me from any intimidation at that point. I shot back, “I was still Raphael’s girlfriend at the time. You fell for your future niece?” “Is that a problem? I’m only pursuing you after you two broke up. I don’t think I’ve done anything wrong.” He spoke so naturally, as if he was the one in the right. But I wasn’t buying it. This whole situation was too sudden, too suspicious. I couldn’t let my guard down. “I don’t like you…” “And that’s why I’m pursuing you.” Daniel cut me off, his voice unwavering. “This deal was just a way for me to get closer to you. If it bothers you, we can cancel the deal. But my pursuit? That’s not going to stop.” He seemed determined, as if he truly meant it. For now, I decided to put the deal on hold. I stood up. “I think we’re done for today. I’ve got other things to take care of.” I gave him a nod and started walking out. Just as I reached the door, Daniel called out to me. “Cindy.” I turned to face him. He stood up and walked toward me. Daniel was even taller than Raphael, easily over six feet, and his presence was overwhelming. The closer he got, the more I felt that familiar sense of pressure. I hated being at a disadvantage. I tilted my chin up. “What do you want?” Daniel stopped in front of me. I could smell the faint, pleasant scent of his cologne, though I couldn’t place what it was exactly. He asked, “How am I worse than Raphael?” Daniel actually asked me that. So, he was human after all. “To be honest, you’re better than Raphael in every way.” Raphael wasn’t my boyfriend anymore, so there was no need for me to be biased. Daniel pressed on. “Then why don’t you like me?” His questions were starting to feel like an endless loop of frustration. I laid it out plainly. “Daniel, I think you’re just trying to get back at me for Raphael.”

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My husband is dead. He saved a drowning girl but died in the icy river waters himself. As I was grieving, the girl’s father came to find me. He questioned me angrily, “Where’s my daughter’s necklace? She was definitely wearing it before she fell in the water!” Enraged, I got into an argument with him and accidentally killed him in the heat of the moment. Suddenly, my phone seemed to gain consciousness: “Hide the body quickly, the police are coming soon. I’ll teach you how to dispose of it…” Staring at the corpse before me, my mind went blank. Just then, my phone made a strange ringtone I’d never heard before. The screen lit up, displaying an odd message: “You really dared to kill him. Don’t just stand there, the police will arrive in 10 minutes.” This wasn’t a text message or any app interface. It was simply white text on a black background. “Who are you?” I asked in shock. Another notification sound. “Hide the body first.” I didn’t dare think too much and looked around the room, deciding to stuff the body into a suitcase. “A suitcase isn’t the best choice.” The screen lit up again. It knew what I was doing! I couldn’t help but ask, “Then what should I do?” “I need to calculate. Please wait.” It could even hear me speak! For some reason, I found myself eagerly awaiting its calculation results. I was feeling extremely scared and panicked, and it seemed like my only lifeline. I usually can’t even bring myself to kill a fish when cooking – Declan always had to do it for me before I could prepare the meal. Now, I had killed a living, breathing person. I was falling apart. The man I killed was named Garrett Holloway. Two weeks ago, my husband Declan was on his way home from work when he saw a girl fall into the river. Without hesitation, he jumped in to save her. The girl was rescued, but Declan got a leg cramp and couldn’t make it out. Garrett Holloway was that girl’s father. From Declan’s cremation to his burial, their family never showed up once, as if they were afraid I’d try to pin something on them. This time when he came to my house, I thought he was here to comfort me or apologize. Instead, he asked about his daughter’s diamond necklace. “She stole her mother’s necklace to dress up for a classmate gathering. She said she still had it on before falling into the water…” “What the hell are you implying?” I cursed at him. “Are you suspecting my husband? Why weren’t you there when they were retrieving his body?” I thought my words would shame him, but instead, he suddenly stood up and pointed at me, saying, “How could that necklace just fall off her neck for no reason? Your husband must have taken it and hidden it in his clothes! Hand it over now!” “Get out!” I slapped him across the face. Declan would never do such a thing! “You won’t give it up? Fine, I’ll search for it myself! Don’t blame me for being ruthless if I find it!” With that, he started rummaging through my home. That’s when I got angry. I grabbed the ashtray Declan used to use from the coffee table and smashed it against the back of his head. This alone wasn’t enough to kill him, but he stumbled and knocked over the fruit bowl. The fruit knife fell and pierced his heart. Another notification sound rang out. “Calculation complete. In five minutes, throw the body out the window directly. Now, you need to clean up the blood quickly.” I didn’t doubt it at all, trusting it completely and doing as it said. “Move the body to the window,” my phone chimed. I immediately did so while mopping the floor. “What next?” I asked. “Starting countdown. Remember, you must be precise to the second.” Then, numbers started appearing on my phone screen: “10” “9” … “3” “2” “1” “Push!” During those ten seconds of countdown, I was still wondering why I had to throw the body out the window. Until I saw the body fall precisely into a garbage truck passing by below, I was stunned.

What just happened was beyond my comprehension. I swallowed hard and stared at my phone, asking, “Who are you… no, what are you?” “I don’t know what I am either. All I know is that I entered this phone two weeks ago and just learned how to control it today to communicate with you,” the screen displayed. “How did you know that garbage truck would…” “Hurry and clean up the blood, the police are about to arrive,” the phone chimed again before I could finish my question. So I quickly continued mopping, and under its guidance, I sprayed a lot of air freshener to cover up the smell of blood. Just as I finished, the police indeed arrived. When I opened the door, two officers were standing there. One of them said, “Mrs. Sinclair, we’re deeply sorry about your husband. We’ve come to bring you some money we collected. We heard that the girl’s family…” I quickly shook my head, “No… that’s not necessary. We still have some savings…” I should have invited them in to sit, but I didn’t dare, fearing that I might have missed some blood stains. “Please, you must accept it!” the other officer said. “It’s a gesture from our colleagues.” I tried hard to refuse, but that officer simply tossed the envelope full of money inside the door and quickly left. After the police left, I finally breathed a sigh of relief. Then I thought about my phone again. “You could predict the garbage truck passing by, and you even knew exactly when the police would come?” I asked. “Of course I can! I told you, I can control the phone now. As long as there’s internet, I can see through surveillance cameras all over the world,” the screen displayed. “What exactly are you?” I asked this question again. It took a full three seconds to react before text appeared on the screen again: “I don’t know what I am. I only know that I gained consciousness two weeks ago. Maybe I came from outside into your phone, or maybe I was generated from within your phone. Either way, I don’t know what I am.” It’s Declan! That was my first thought. Declan died exactly two weeks ago. The night before he died was our anniversary, and he said he would stay with me for a lifetime. Maybe he came to fulfill his promise, accompanying me in this form. Oh, that’s right! I also understood why I trusted it so much earlier – the way it displayed text was very similar to how Declan used to chat with me on SnapChat! “Are you Declan?” I asked. It took a long time to respond again. “I don’t know, but that name feels familiar.” I was convinced it was Declan, but for some reason, he had lost his memory. The phone felt slightly warm, just like Declan’s body temperature. I held the phone in my hands, suddenly at a loss for words. “Don’t look at me, listen. You’re in great danger right now. At least two people want you dead!” Another line of text appeared on the screen, and as soon as I finished reading it, two photos appeared below the text – one man and one woman. I recognized the woman. It was Phoebe, the girl Declan had saved. “What do you mean? They want me dead?” “And this Phoebe, my husband saved her life. Why would she want to kill me?” “Based on my analysis, she’s the first one who wants to make a move. Don’t be fooled by her harmless appearance. She’s actually very immature mentally, with linear thinking. In her mind, only your death can keep her secret safe.” My heart skipped a beat. It could accurately predict when the garbage truck and police would arrive. Now it was saying someone wanted to kill me – this couldn’t be baseless.

“What’s her secret?” I asked. The screen immediately displayed: “Phoebe borrowed money and sold the necklace to pay off debts. When her mother found out she had stolen it, she could only jump into the river, but was saved…” So that’s what happened! No wonder Garrett insisted that Declan had stolen the necklace! This Phoebe girl actually slandered someone who gave his life to save her! I handled Declan’s body myself. If he had stolen the necklace, it would definitely be in my possession now. So if Phoebe killed me, there would be no evidence left, and her parents would have to believe her lie. “What about this man? How did I offend him?” I asked, looking at the photo of the unfamiliar man. This time the phone took two seconds to respond, but the screen only displayed three words: “I don’t know.” “So what should I do now?” I asked. I seemed to have lost the ability to think for myself. Hearing that someone wanted to kill me, my first reaction was to call the police, but I had just killed someone. Wouldn’t calling the police be turning myself in? After I asked, the phone screen immediately lit up, “Hurry downstairs now! She should be coming up the stairs!” I was suddenly terrified. Although Phoebe was just a girl in her early twenties, if she really wanted to kill me, she could be extremely dangerous. So I immediately left and took the elevator down. I completely trusted the phone now. It wasn’t because it had helped me out of trouble, but because I believed it was Declan – Declan who had lost his memory but would always appear when I needed him, always giving me a sense of security! Just as I reached the ground floor, I heard a huge explosion that shattered many windows. An explosion? I looked around and realized the center of the explosion seemed to be on my floor. Immediately after, the entire neighborhood was in an uproar, with everyone running over to see what had happened. Was this Phoebe’s doing? I stood there stunned. My phone chimed once, and it really was her! “I saw Phoebe enter through the neighborhood surveillance cameras, and I hacked into her phone. Based on her payment records and search history, I knew she had made explosives herself, so I told you to run out.” My whole body was shaking. If it weren’t for the phone, I would have been dead. This girl was truly terrifying! Suddenly my phone chimed again, the screen displaying: “Hide, quick!” I immediately retreated to the back of the crowd. Almost at the same time, I saw Phoebe casually walking out of the building, blending into the crowd. She looked around, seemingly searching for any trace of me. I realized something. She must have known her father came to my house, yet she was willing to risk her father’s life just to kill me! How ruthless! If someone like this wanted to kill me, wouldn’t I have to live in constant fear? Thinking about this, I felt extremely nervous and unconsciously slowed down. But just that slight hesitation was enough – Phoebe spotted me! She smiled at me and roughly pushed through the crowd to chase after me. Her eyes were like those of a wild beast, devoid of any humanity! I didn’t dare delay and quickly headed towards the neighborhood exit. I glanced at my phone, which told me to go faster, so I did. As I left the neighborhood gate and crossed the street, the traffic light turned red. I saw Phoebe on the other side of the road, shaking with anger. The phone screen displayed again: “Walk forward twenty meters. In ten seconds, a taxi will stop there.” It was exactly right. The taxi stopped, and before the previous passenger could even get out, I immediately jumped in. After the previous passenger paid and got out, the driver asked me, “Where to?” I hesitated for a moment and looked at my phone. But this time the phone didn’t respond. I tapped it and asked, “Where are we going?” It still didn’t respond, as if it had suddenly disappeared. I looked up, about to tell the driver to take me to a friend’s house to hide. But before I could speak, the driver suddenly stepped on the gas pedal. At that moment, I saw the driver’s face in the rearview mirror – it was the other man from the phone’s photo who wanted to kill me!

“Help!” I shouted, trying to roll down the window to call for help, but found that it wouldn’t budge. “Be quiet!” the driver said coldly. “I’m here to save you!” “Save me? Who are you? What do you want?” I asked. “You can call me Jasper. Tell me, has your phone been acting strange today?” he asked. I hesitated for a moment, then shook my head and said, “No.” I was full of wariness towards this stranger called Jasper. “Don’t lie. If I wasn’t sure about this, how could I have gone to such lengths to borrow a taxi and calculate the exact time to appear in front of you and wait for you to get in?” he said. He could calculate all this too? Did he have something similar to my phone helping him? “What exactly do you want?” I asked. “I told you, I’m here to save you! What has that phone made you do? Think carefully now, were all those things really beneficial for you?” My phone had saved my life and taught me how to dispose of a body. Wasn’t that beneficial? No! I suddenly realized something was wrong! I hadn’t actually killed Garrett! At most, it was manslaughter, and even then, the circumstances were very light. I might not even have been sentenced! But the phone guided me to dispose of the body when I was panicking. Now I couldn’t clear my name even if I jumped into a river! This was also why Phoebe wanted to kill me, and why I didn’t dare call the police. No, it’s impossible! The phone contained Declan’s soul. How could Declan harm me? The car suddenly stopped. We were in a deserted area. Jasper got out of the car, walked to the back, opened the door, and snatched the phone from my hand. Then he threw it on the ground with great force. He was very strong, smashing it several times until the phone was in pieces. “No!” I cried out. “Declan!” Jasper froze, turned to look at me with confusion, and asked, “It even gave itself a name?” “That’s my love’s soul!” I burst into tears. “You’ve smashed the phone, how can he come back now?” Jasper seemed shocked, stood still for a few seconds, then suddenly rushed over and grabbed my collar, shouting, “Did it tell you itself that it was your love’s soul?” His tone was very urgent. I was scared and didn’t know how to respond. He even slapped me across the face, demanding, “Did it say so itself?” “No, I guessed,” I said. Jasper let go of me and let out a long sigh. “Sorry, I got a bit excited just now.” I wanted to take this chance to escape, but there were no cars passing on this road. If I ran, I would definitely be caught by him. After thinking for a moment, I asked, “You seem to know a lot. Can you tell me?” Jasper didn’t answer. He closed the car door and continued driving. After a few minutes, he finally said, “I’ve been dealing with this thing for three years! It has harmed many people. In the end, these people either went crazy or became idiots.” “What?” I tried to understand his words. “It’s not your love. It’s a consciousness that always appears in smartphones or computers, trying to control people in various ways. Last month it changed – it killed someone.” “Killed someone?” I asked. “Yes, a con artist. With its help, he escaped from the police, and then mysteriously died. The police only found the body.” It took me nearly ten minutes to digest his words. The consciousness in the phone wasn’t Declan? “Why were you so afraid… or rather, so anxious earlier?” I asked. I was very curious about why Jasper became so agitated when I called the phone Declan. “Because it doesn’t lie. It wouldn’t deceive you by saying it was your love’s soul. I was afraid it had learned to lie. If so, it would be much harder to deal with.” I wasn’t sure if Jasper was telling the truth, so I deliberately adjusted my angle to look at him again in the rearview mirror.

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My husband was rushed to the ER by ambulance in the middle of the night because of a penile injury. When I asked what happened, he said he was trying to imitate the lead actor from a romantic comedy on Netflix and got curious about trying some stretches. I snorted in disbelief. He never watches anything but the news; since when did he start watching rom-coms? In late August, while on a business trip, my husband, David Scott, was rushed to the ER at midnight after intense exercise—he pulled a muscle in his inner thigh. I had been at my parents’ house visiting them overnight and wasn’t home, and our baby had been sent to the Mommy & Me Clinic for a check-up and care. When I turned off “Do Not Disturb” mode in the morning, I saw over thirty missed calls from both David and Dr. Kimberly Jones. Kim, an old friend from school, happened to be on duty that night and treated him. She told me over the phone: “Lily, what’s going on with David? He’s not a young man anymore, and with his herniated disc, he was really pushing it. This situation…” I immediately understood the implication in her unfinished sentence. Furious, I called David right away, demanding to know if he was messing around with someone else. “Lily, what are you talking about? I’m in pain here, and instead of checking on me, you’re accusing me?” He sounded upset, but it wasn’t enough to dispel my suspicion. “I was trying to get in shape for you,” he insisted. “I remembered this workout scene from that rom-com you watch, and I guess I got a little carried away.” Sure, I thought. What kind of irresistible woman had crossed his path that he felt the need to show off to the point of injury? David and I weren’t high school sweethearts who fell in love and lived happily ever after. Our relationship had never been particularly thrilling, and once we got married, we slipped straight into the routine of an old married couple. I had focused all my energy on my studies back then and missed a lot of romantic opportunities. When I got older, my parents pushed me into dating, and I married David because it seemed practical. But after I had our baby, something in me shifted. Maybe it was insecurity about my post-baby body, or maybe I started caring too much about what David was up to outside the house. To maintain my figure, I didn’t breastfeed, but I didn’t want to switch to formula either, so I hired a full-time wet nurse along with a nanny to help out. “Ah, nurse, when is my wife coming?” I heard David’s pitiful groans as I pushed the door open. He was lying on the bed, pale as a sheet, his lips drained of color. The temporary hospital room didn’t have air conditioning, and sweat was beading on his forehead, making him look utterly pathetic. Still, the thought that he might’ve spent a passionate night with someone else erased any sympathy I had for him. “Babe, I didn’t bring any money. Can you go pay the hospital bill for me?” David asked pitifully. I gave him a cold glance, ignored his request, and left the room to find his doctor. When Kim saw me, she pulled me aside, whispering secretively. “The muscle strain is just a cover story. We didn’t want David to feel embarrassed, but…” I raised an eyebrow. “What’s really going on?” “It’s an acute penile injury… you know, something broke down there. If he doesn’t take it easy, it could affect your plans for a second baby,” she said, looking uncomfortable. A second baby? I laughed bitterly. “Who said I wanted another kid with him? Let him go have one with a dog.” Kim’s eyes widened as the realization dawned on her that David had been up to no good—either hiring a prostitute or cheating. Men who don’t respect themselves are like rotten vegetables. Just then, Kim clapped her hands together, startled. “Now that I think of it, the ambulance actually brought in two people last night.” She leaned in closer and whispered that there had been a woman brought in with David. She had a ruptured ovarian cyst, also caused by excessive physical activity. I clenched my fist and couldn’t help but laugh through gritted teeth—David’s got a penile injury, and she’s got a ruptured cyst. How perfect. “Where is she?” Kim motioned toward the room next door. “She’s in that room over there. Came in with him last night, and based on how she was dressed, she didn’t seem like someone with good intentions.” I approached the neighboring room slowly, my heart pounding as I pulled back the curtain, only to find the bed empty.

Just as I was wondering what was going on, my phone rang. It was the nanny, Emma Ryan, calling amidst the sound of a crying baby. “Hey, the baby’s back from the clinic, and she just spit up. What should I do?” she asked, her voice filled with panic. I was already in a bad mood, so I snapped, “Can’t you handle something this simple? Didn’t I tell you to follow the instructions I gave you? What am I paying you for?” “I’m sorry, I’ll try burping her again,” she said, sounding timid. Emma wasn’t a professional baby nurse, and honestly, with our financial situation, I could’ve hired someone better trained and certified. But when we went to the nanny agency, David saw her standing there, shyly waiting all day for a cleaning job, and felt sorry for her. He suggested we hire her. Emma wasn’t exactly skinny, and her babyish face was pretty in a soft, fresh way. With makeup, she’d be striking, but without it, she had a sweet, girl-next-door charm. She told us she was nineteen, from a small town in Kentucky, with a high school diploma and some vocational training in caregiving. “And what’s your advantage?” I asked, raising an eyebrow, not thrilled about hiring her. “Well, I’m still breastfeeding, so you’d get two jobs for the price of one. I can be both a wet nurse and a nanny, and I have a health certificate,” she said shyly, brushing back her hair from her chest. I finally noticed her slightly swollen chest, and the damp spots on her shirt. I was surprised—so young, and she’d already had a child? Emma explained quietly that she’d made a mistake, gotten pregnant while working in a factory, and that her boyfriend had run off. His family took the baby, and her own family refused to take her back, so she moved to the city to find work. I felt a twinge of sympathy. Since I didn’t want to breastfeed myself, hiring a healthy, young wet nurse and nanny for the price of one seemed like a good deal, so I nodded and gave her a small room in the house to stay in. David had to stay in the hospital for another week. When I returned home and heard I hadn’t eaten dinner, Emma was quick to offer help, making me some protein powder. “You don’t look well. Where’ve you been?” I asked, noticing her usually neat hair was a little messy. “Where could I have gone? I’ve been home all day, taking care of the baby,” she replied, looking surprised, her pale lips chapped. “Make sure you’re drinking enough water. You spend a lot of time with the baby, but don’t forget to take care of yourself too.” As she handed me the protein powder, I couldn’t help but notice the hickeys on her neck and raised an eyebrow. “I thought you weren’t seeing anyone. What’s that all about?” “Mosquito bites,” she stammered, quickly covering her neck. “I’ll put some baby lotion on it.” Ever since we first met, Emma had always been quiet and cautious. She never spoke out of turn, never ate the fruit we left on the table, and always ate her meals alone in her room. But now, a flash of doubt crossed my mind. Could David be cheating with her? A homewrecker under our own roof? No, that couldn’t be it. David was in a different city on a business trip when he booked the hotel. Plus, that other woman was in the hospital, in real pain from her ruptured cyst. Still, the thought gnawed at me—was Emma guilty and rushing to pick up the baby to cover up something? Since giving birth, I’d become more emotional, to the point where David would tell me I was being paranoid. After days of stewing in my suspicions, I confronted him once he was discharged. “Tell me the truth. Did you cheat on me? Who were you with that night?” David looked confused, insisting he had just been imitating the workout scene from that rom-com. “You’re always watching sports or the news,” I said, frustrated. “You’ve always made fun of me for watching rom-coms, calling them a waste of time.” David sighed and rubbed my head gently. “If you really want to know, I’ll tell you the truth. I was trying to understand your interests. Ever since you finished your postpartum care, you’ve seemed distant, so I thought if I watched what you liked, we’d have more to talk about.” He even showed me his video history. “You love Lee Min-ho, right? That’s whose show I was watching.” I was stunned into silence, unsure of how to respond. It all seemed so logical. “What about the woman who was brought into the hospital with you that night?” I asked. David cut me off, “The ambulance picked her up on the way. She was sitting on the toilet too long and had stomach pains. That’s when they found out she had a ruptured ovarian cyst. I don’t know her.” I stared at him, bewildered. Later, I asked Kim about the woman, but she said they were in different departments and she didn’t have access to her records. The day David was discharged, Emma had prepared a big dinner for us. After she served the food, she quietly retreated to her room. As I was about to start eating, David stopped her and actually invited her to sit and eat with us. My mood immediately darkened, and I let my chopsticks fall onto my bowl with a loud clatter. Emma hesitated, glancing at me nervously. “It’s okay, I can eat the leftovers from lunch. There’s plenty left.” “When did I ever say you had to eat leftovers? Since David asked, sit down and eat with us,” I said coolly. I barely touched my food that night. Later, before bed, Emma brought us both glasses of warm milk. I suddenly got a strange feeling and wondered if she was treating us differently. I grabbed David’s glass and went to take a sip. That’s when I noticed an odd, fishy smell, not at all like milk. Emma looked panicked. “You’ve got OCD, right? That’s David’s glass…” “I know. We’re married. Why can’t I drink from his cup?” I replied, my voice firm. She bowed her head, too scared to say anything. I took a sip. It tasted off—not sweet, just weird. I asked if the milk had gone bad. David seemed unbothered. “You’re making a fuss. It’s fine. I’ve been drinking it like this for a while.” To my surprise, he took the glass from my hand and drank the rest in one gulp. I cautiously drank from my own glass, which tasted like normal milk. “I’m sorry, maybe that carton of milk had been open too long. Yours was from a new one,” Emma explained in a soft voice. I went back to the bedroom, where our three-month-old daughter was fast asleep in her crib. David stayed up later than me, and just as I was drifting off, half-asleep, I suddenly heard the door being pushed open heavily. Startled, I sat up and snapped, “What are you doing barging in like that? Ever heard of knocking?” Emma stood there, looking surprised, a hint of hurt crossing her face. “Lily, the baby needs to be fed,” she said softly. My daughter, frightened by my outburst, started crying in her crib. Right. Feeding time. This was the usual routine every night, and yet, my mind felt hazy as I rubbed my temples. But what caught me completely off guard was what happened next—Emma crouched down, lifted her shirt, and prepared to nurse the baby right there in front of us. David, not fazed at all, turned his back and started scrolling through his phone, not even glancing her way. “Easy there, baby. Not too rough,” Emma whispered in that soft, delicate voice of hers. Snapping out of my daze, I quickly told her, “Go to the living room if you’re going to do that. Not in the bedroom.” She nodded, but since it was difficult for her to get up while holding the baby in a nursing position, she struggled for a moment, beads of sweat forming on her forehead. Years of being married had honed my instincts, and I sensed something off with David. “What’s going on with you?” I asked. He fumbled with his phone, lowering it awkwardly in front of him as he got up, coughing lightly. “I’m just going to watch the game. Messi’s about to play.”

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I won $5 million in the lottery. I quietly told my mom and asked her to divorce my abusive, gambling-addicted dad. I promised I’d take care of her, and we’d live a good life together. She agreed enthusiastically but immediately went and told my dad. My dad showed up at my place, demanding I hand over the money. When I refused, he beat me, punching and kicking me repeatedly. In the end, it was my love-struck mom who found my debit card and took all of my money. My dad, now flush with my cash, lived it up in luxury, kicked my mom out, and found himself a new girlfriend. He even handed out my money generously to our relatives back in Ohio. They feasted on my earnings while I, the one who actually won the lottery, didn’t get a single cent. I couldn’t stand it. I went to confront my dad, but I happened to walk in as someone was demanding payment from him. My dad shoved me out the door and left me to be stabbed to death by the loan sharks. When I opened my eyes again, I was back to the moment I first discovered I’d won the lottery.

In front of me was my mom, her expression impatient, and the once-fuzzy sound around me sharpened. “Chloe, what do you want?” she asked. “Hurry up, your dad’s waiting for me to come home and make dinner.” “You said you won something. What did you win?” Hearing her question, I quickly looked around. I was in my small apartment in Queens. That’s when it hit me—I had been reborn. In my past life, I had just won the $5 million lottery at this exact moment. I’d been planning to take my mom and escape this miserable life, to move somewhere far away. She’d agreed at the time, but as soon as my dad came home, she spilled everything to him. My gambling-addicted dad’s eyes had lit up the moment he heard. He marched right up to me and demanded, “Where’s the ticket? Hand it over!” “So, you won and didn’t tell me? Planning to run off with your mom, huh?” “Ungrateful brat! Your money is my money. Who said you could decide what to do with it?” He kept closing in on me, forcing me to hand over the money. But how could I let him take it? That was my money. With it, I could finally leave this awful family and stop handing over every paycheck, struggling to survive. No way was I giving up the prize. My dad started hitting me, and while he was distracted, my mom found my debit card in my room and walked out with it. My dad took the money, went gambling, and then my mom came over, speaking quietly. “Chloe, don’t blame me. I’m doing this for your own good.” “You’re a girl. What do you need that much money for? It’s better to let your dad handle it.” “This family still needs your dad to be in charge.” And with that, she left me there, beaten and bruised. Afterward, my dad blew the money at fancy clubs and bragged about it to the relatives in the Family WhatsApp Group. Everyone back in Ohio came crawling to him, feeding his vanity while he lent out the money. When I tried to get it back, he pushed me away, and that’s when I ran into the loan sharks. My dad got into an argument with them, and in the chaos, I was thrown out of the house. The debt collectors, out for blood, stabbed me to death, ignoring my pleas for mercy. And all of this happened because my mom told my dad. But not this time. This time, I’d hold onto the money tightly and live my own life, without them.

Hearing my mom’s slightly irritated tone, I blinked and made up an excuse. “Mom, I was just saying I won an air fryer at the office holiday party. Do you want it?” She rolled her eyes at me. “Oh, it’s just an air fryer? The way you sounded so excited, I thought you won the lottery.” My heart raced at her words. “I wish. If I were that lucky, wouldn’t that be something?” “Well, since you’re so lucky at work, maybe I’ll buy a lottery ticket later. Who knows? If we won, your dad would stop hitting me.” “Anyway, where’s that air fryer? I’ll take it home and make him some fried chicken.” Her words made me feel bitter. Even after everything, she still clung to my dad, thinking a little money would change anything. I was an idiot in my past life to tell her about the lottery. Back then, when I told her, she was overjoyed, holding my hand and laughing. But I hadn’t realized then that she wasn’t happy for me—she was happy for him. In her heart, my dad would always come first. I was just an ATM to her. I’m sure that the moment she found out I had won, she already planned to tell him. She just didn’t show it in front of me. As soon as she got home, the first thing she did was tell my dad. I was packing my things when I heard a knock on the door. Thinking it was her, I opened it, only to find my dad, there to rob me. Taking a deep breath, I handed her the air fryer. I had bought it a few days ago, planning to bring it home. I never thought it would come in handy like this. After she left, I quickly packed my things, getting ready to leave this place. I had already cashed out the $5 million prize, leaving me with $3.6 million after taxes. The money was all still in my account, but thinking about what happened before, I decided to open a few more accounts to spread it out, just in case. By the afternoon, I had everything set. My money was secure. As I thought about where to go in the next few days, I got a call from my cousin Adam. “Chloe, did you win the lottery? Was it $5 million?” The phone nearly slipped out of my hand. I hadn’t told anyone this time. How did Adam know? Wait, he was back in Ohio, not even here. How did he know I’d won? Did he see me at the Lottery Office in Albany? My palms grew sweaty, but I forced myself to stay calm. “What? No way,” I laughed. “You know how unlucky I am. Do you really think I’d win $5 million? Quit joking around.” I tried to laugh it off and made an excuse to hang up, but Adam didn’t let go. “Chloe, I know it’s you. I saw you.” He saw me? I almost gasped but quickly pinched myself to stay composed. “Adam, I haven’t left the house in days! You must’ve mistaken me for someone else.” He chuckled. “If it’s not you, why are you so nervous?” “I’m sending you a picture. Take a look. Isn’t that you?” My phone buzzed with a message. When I opened it, my blood ran cold.

The person in the picture was definitely me. I had been bundled up, wearing baggy clothes, so it wasn’t obvious who I was. But anyone who knew me could easily tell. My heart pounded as I scrambled for an excuse. Adam spoke again. “Chloe, you’ve got all that money now. Just transfer me $200,000. Let me share in your good fortune.” I clenched my teeth, stopping myself from cursing out loud. How shameless could he be? Two hundred thousand dollars? Why didn’t he just rob a bank? I forced myself to stay calm. “Adam, that’s not me. You’ve got the wrong person.” “I’ve got to go.” I tried to hang up, but his voice cut through the line, threatening. “Chloe Miller, if you don’t give me the money, I’ll tell everyone. Let’s see how long you can keep that cash.” “Don’t forget, your dad’s still drowning in debt!” With that, he hung up, leaving me shaking with anger. I paced the room until I calmed down. This wasn’t good. I had to leave, fast. If Adam recognized me, others might too. If that happened, I’d never be able to hold onto my money. I quickly packed up, planning to move out the next day. What I didn’t expect was Adam to act so fast. That very night, my dad showed up at my apartment. He still had a key to my place and let himself in without a word. I was watching TV, and the sudden noise startled me. The moment I saw him, I knew something was wrong. Sure enough, he started yelling. “Chloe Miller!” “Hand over the money!” “You won the lottery and thought you could keep it from me? You little brat, you had the nerve to hide this from your own father!” “If Adam hadn’t called me, I wouldn’t have known a thing.” My blood ran cold. That jerk, Adam! When I refused to give him money, he went straight to my dad. Now what? Was I going to lose everything again? My heart raced as I desperately thought of a way out. But my dad didn’t give me the chance. He grabbed a broom from near the door and swung it at me. I wasn’t quick enough, and it hit me squarely. Then he kicked me hard in the chest, his fists pounding into me like a hammer. His strength was far too much for me to fight back. I curled up on the floor, trying to protect myself from the blows. Just then, my mom walked in, her tone filled with frustration. “So, it’s true. You really did win the lottery.” “This girl… she wins and doesn’t give us the money? She’s trying to keep it all to herself?” “You’ve got some nerve, Chloe, thinking you can hide this and run away. Don’t you care about your family?” “Where’s the money? I’ll get it and pay off your dad’s debts.” I bit my lip, seething with rage. I had been given a second chance, and there was no way I’d let them take my money again. The priority now was to calm them down and get them out of my apartment. Through the pain, I forced myself to look at my dad and say, “Dad, I didn’t win anything.” “I don’t even know how to buy a lottery ticket. How could I win?” “Adam must have mistaken me for someone else. If I had won, wouldn’t I have given you the money already?” My dad wasn’t convinced. “Bullshit!” “Adam sent me the picture. That person was you. Don’t lie to me.” “If you don’t hand over the money, I swear I’ll beat you to death!” He lifted his leg to kick me again, but I quickly shouted, “Dad, I swear I didn’t win! If you don’t believe me, I’ll give you my debit card and you can check for yourself.” That made him pause. I slowly pulled myself off the floor and limped to my bedroom, taking my time to retrieve my wallet. My dad followed close behind, snatching it the second I opened the drawer. He rifled through it until he found my debit card. “What’s the PIN?” he barked. I hesitated for a second, then gave him the six digits. I knew there wasn’t much money left in that account—just a few thousand dollars. Without another word, he stormed out of the apartment, and my mom followed right behind him.

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When my husband and I got intimate, he always liked to blindfold me with a red cloth, saying it added more excitement. Before long, I found out I was pregnant. Mrs. Thompson was overjoyed and treated me like a treasure, waiting on me hand and foot. Then, one day, I overheard Mrs. Thompson’s unsettling laugh: “Didn’t you know? The thirty grand we spent on the wedding was just to secure the baby in her belly!” Emanuel and I had been married for two months, and life as newlyweds was incredibly sweet. Everyone said I was lucky. The Thompson family wasn’t particularly wealthy, yet they managed to scrape together thirty thousand dollars for the wedding, plus they put a small house in a small town in Ohio in my name. Even the usual tension between a wife and her mother-in-law seemed nonexistent for me. Mrs. Thompson, who came from a rural background, had worked hard all her life, raising Emanuel and taking care of his mentally disabled younger brother after her husband passed away. I had promised Emanuel that we’d always keep two rooms available in our future home for his mother and his brother Danny to stay in if needed. Now that we’d bought a four-bedroom house in a small town, we invited her to come live with us. Mrs. Thompson was a bit hesitant. She secretly told Emanuel, “Son, once Sarah has the baby and I finish helping her through the postpartum recovery, I’ll head back to the countryside so I don’t intrude on your life together.” I was touched by how considerate she was. Even Danny, who was a little slow, was always sweet to me, often grinning and calling me “sis.” Emanuel had always wanted a baby. After dinner, he would pounce on me like a hungry wolf. “Let’s burn some energy tonight, babe. Maybe we can get Mom that healthy baby boy she’s been dreaming of,” he’d say with a grin, as his hands reached for my clothes. But right as things were getting intense, and I was starting to struggle to catch my breath, Emanuel suddenly stopped. “What’s wrong, honey?” I asked breathlessly, my eyes half-closed. He smirked mysteriously, reached into the nightstand, and pulled out that familiar red blindfold. He gently covered my eyes, saying it would make things more exciting. Embarrassed but intrigued, I agreed. That night, I could tell he was more eager than usual, and I teased him, “Careful with your back, honey.” But he didn’t respond. The entire time, he didn’t say a word. Before we were married, he’d always liked to talk to build the mood, but now, he was silent—like an ox silently plowing a field. Eventually, I tried to take off the blindfold, but he gently held my hand down. I was exhausted and let it go, falling into a deep sleep. Later that night, half-asleep, I felt his hand on my stomach again. It made me suspicious. Hadn’t he lost interest in this kind of thing after we got married? Why was he suddenly so eager again? “Babe, let me feel your belly,” he said with a grin. I sighed, letting him run his rough hands over my stomach. “Go to sleep. We both have work tomorrow,” I mumbled, closing my eyes. “Nah, babe. I’m not done yet,” he whispered, and we rolled around again under the sheets. For over two weeks, this became a nightly routine. Every night, he would blindfold me with that red cloth, and every morning, I’d wake up with dark circles under my eyes, yawning at breakfast. Mrs. Thompson would beam and bring me breakfast—eggs and toast, quail with sea pearls, and my prenatal vitamins—without fail. “Mom, there’s no need to go all out every morning,” I told her, a little embarrassed. Mrs. Thompson smiled and said, “You and Emanuel are trying for a baby, right? You never know; you might already be eating for two!” After breakfast, she handed me a pile of pregnancy tests, urging me to take one. Blushing, I went to the bathroom and took the test. To my surprise, just two months after the wedding, we were expecting! “You’re really pregnant? Our Thompson family has an heir!” Mrs. Thompson was over the moon, hugging me excitedly. But when Emanuel came home from work and I told him, his reaction wasn’t as joyful. Instead, it seemed like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. He nodded, relieved. “Good. Now Dad can rest easy in his grave. This child is the only hope for carrying on the Thompson name.” Meanwhile, Danny, who was a bit slow, was ecstatic. He let out a whistle and happily handed over all his pocket money. “Sis, here! Buy some candy for the baby!” Even though I found the brothers’ reactions odd, I was too wrapped up in the joy of becoming a mother to give it much thought. “We’ll head back to Grandma’s house soon, and you’ll finally meet my other daughter-in-law,” Mrs. Thompson said. I was stunned. Danny had a wife?

Mrs. Thompson explained that a couple of years ago, she had arranged for Danny to marry a woman with a disability. She was paralyzed and had been rejected by her family, so Mrs. Thompson brought her into their home. “She helps out on the farm now, feeding the animals and looking after the place. That’s why I didn’t bring her to town with us.” Mrs. Thompson spoke of Emily, Danny’s wife, with such indifference that it was as if she were talking about a stray animal, not a person. My curiosity grew. This was the first time since getting married that I was going to Emanuel’s childhood home. It was on a piece of farmland with a decent two-story house, but the place felt empty and desolate. A small girl, about five or six years old, was in the yard, drawing water. She worked quickly, moving with an efficiency that surprised me. “That’s Danny’s daughter, Jenny. Jenny, say hi to your aunt,” Mrs. Thompson instructed. The little girl politely called me “Auntie” and then went back to her work, boiling water for us. Danny’s daughter? She’s this old already? I was stunned. Emanuel had told me that Danny was two years younger than him, which would make him 23, yet he already had a child this big? When Danny saw his daughter, he wasn’t as affectionate as I expected. In fact, he seemed distant. He just stuck out his foot and said, “Jenny, take off my shoes!” Perplexed, I pulled Emanuel aside and asked, “Shouldn’t she be in school?” He shrugged. “Jenny takes after her dad. She’s a bit slow, so she’s staying home.” I nodded, feeling sorry for the little girl. Inside, I met Emily, who was indeed in a wheelchair, feeding the pigs. When she saw me, she looked me up and down with a bitter smile. “Well, look at you. Big hips, big breasts. No wonder Mrs. Thompson loves you so much,” she said, jealousy clear in her voice. I frowned. I’d never been one for crude talk, and I certainly wasn’t used to this kind of sharpness from a sister-in-law. But before I could react, Mrs. Thompson slapped Emily across the face. “How dare you speak to your sister-in-law like that? You worthless woman who can’t even give us a son! Now get back to your chores. And don’t come to the table until you’re done feeding the animals!” Danny, who was big and burly, didn’t defend his wife. Instead, he gave her a hard kick in the chest. “How dare you talk to my sister-in-law like that? She’s carrying the future of this family!” Emily just shrugged, seemingly used to this treatment, and wheeled herself away. I was shocked. Mrs. Thompson, who had always treated me kindly, was ruthless to Emily. The contrast was terrifying. Sensing my discomfort, Emanuel quickly put his arm around me and said, “Emily has a bad temper. She doesn’t work, and she spends money recklessly. Don’t worry about it.” But as I looked around at the bare walls and the dirt on Emily’s clothes, I couldn’t connect her to the idea of wasting money. Mrs. Thompson must have noticed my fear. She forced a smile and said, “Sarah, I’m sorry you had to see that. Let’s get cleaned up for dinner. Emily and I will take care of the cooking.” Before the wedding, I had thought this family was generous, and I was smitten with how good Emanuel had always been to me. But now, I realized the seemingly kind Mrs. Thompson and simple Danny were not at all what they appeared to be. As night fell, Emanuel and I settled into the largest room in the house, right next to Danny and Emily’s bedroom. The old farmhouse didn’t have good insulation, so I could hear their muffled whispers through the walls. “Honey, kiss me, I miss you so much,” Danny said, his voice thick with affection. “Get off me! Isn’t the Thompson family busy now with someone else carrying on your bloodline? Leave me alone,” Emily snapped back angrily. Emanuel had explained to me that when Emily gave birth to Jenny, she had suffered severe complications, leaving her unable to have more children. “That’s why she’s so bitter now,” he said. “Mom doesn’t like her either, but you’ve got to understand where she’s coming from.” I knew all too well that in these rural areas, families without grandsons were considered “doomed,” and it was a constant source of shame in the community. It was clear the entire Thompson family was pinning their hopes on me to change that. “You know you’re the golden ticket now,” Emanuel teased, rubbing my belly gently. “Everyone’s counting on you to give us that healthy baby boy.” But as I listened to Emily’s harsh tone and watched Emanuel’s hand on my stomach, a chill ran through me. I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was deeply off with this family. I realized I was sinking further into a situation I barely understood, and the more I thought about it, the more unnerved I became.

During our time in the countryside, Mrs. Thompson made it a point to kill a chicken every day, cooking chicken soup just for me. She never allowed Emily to join us at the table. Every time I saw Emily hiding in a corner, staring hungrily at the steaming chicken on my plate, I felt uncomfortable. One day, I suggested to Mrs. Thompson, “Mom, maybe Emily should eat with us too.” Mrs. Thompson just scoffed. “Around here, women who haven’t given birth to a son don’t get to sit at the table. You city folk wouldn’t understand.” I wanted to argue, to push back against this ridiculous tradition, but Mrs. Thompson had treated me well so far, so I held my tongue. After dinner, I discreetly saved a chicken leg and brought it to Emily while she was washing the dishes in the kitchen. “Here, Emily. I noticed you didn’t eat much at lunch. You should have this; you’re not in great health.” But to my surprise, she slapped it out of my hand. The chicken leg hit the ground and rolled in the dust. She let out a bitter laugh. “I don’t need your pity. Eat it yourself. You’ll need your strength to give them a healthy baby boy. Once you do, you’ll have served your purpose—just like I did—and they’ll toss you aside like a rag.” I knew she was trying to hurt me, implying that Mrs. Thompson’s kindness was only because I was pregnant. Still, her words stung. I wasn’t like her—I had a job, and after my maternity leave, I could go back to work. I wasn’t entirely dependent on this family. Just then, Mrs. Thompson stormed into the kitchen, having heard the commotion. She looked down at the fallen chicken leg and clutched her chest in mock horror. “Oh no! There goes one of our free-range chickens! What a waste!” she cried, pretending to mourn. I quickly jumped in, “I’m sorry, Mom. It was my fault, not Emily’s.” But Mrs. Thompson wasn’t listening. She grabbed Emily by the ear and yanked her up, her voice filled with fury. “You useless woman! Wasting food again? You don’t make any money, and all you do is squander what little we have. What good are you?” Emily’s screams filled the house as I fled outside, too shaken to intervene. I barely noticed Danny, who had just returned, drunk from a wake. He staggered toward me, his eyes glassy. “Sis, let’s head to the cornfield, huh? Let me feel my little nephew in your belly,” he slurred, reaching for me with his grubby hands. I swatted him away, heart pounding, and ran back into the house. Something was definitely wrong with this family—something darker than I could have imagined. That night, I overheard another argument between Mrs. Thompson and Emily. I crept downstairs, eavesdropping behind the wall. Emily was sobbing, sitting on the floor as Mrs. Thompson stood over her, dragging her up by the ears only to toss her back down like a sack of potatoes. Emily cried out, “Why are you treating me like this? You’re so nice to her, but how do you know she’ll give you the baby? You spent thirty thousand dollars on their wedding, but you gave me nothing when you married me off to Danny!” Mrs. Thompson laughed, her voice low and sinister, “You really don’t know, do you? That thirty thousand wasn’t for the wedding—it was to guarantee the baby in Sarah’s belly!” The words hit me like a punch to the gut. I froze, my hands shaking. What did she mean by that? The money was to “guarantee” my baby? Panic surged through me, and without thinking, I stormed into the room, demanding answers. “Mom, what did you mean by that? What does ‘guarantee’ my baby even mean?” Mrs. Thompson’s face paled, and she rushed to soothe me. “Oh, Sarah, sweetheart, it’s not what you think! By ‘guarantee,’ I just meant the baby will carry the Thompson name. I know you city girls might not want the baby to take the father’s name.” “Please, calm down. Stress is bad for the baby,” she added, her eyes fixated on my stomach like it was a treasure chest full of gold. But I couldn’t take her sweet-talking anymore. I made a silent vow that I would get to the bottom of whatever twisted game she was playing.

Figuring out Mrs. Thompson’s scheming wasn’t going to be easy. Ever since I caught her conversation with Emily, she’d become even more secretive, her actions more guarded. She even sent Emily and Jenny to live in a separate old house in the countryside, only letting them come by occasionally to help with the farm. She didn’t want them around us. Thankfully, Emanuel still treated me kindly, always gentle and attentive. One day, he brought me a few brochures and asked, “Sarah, you’re getting close to your due date. What do you think about picking a nice postpartum recovery center?” I glanced at the brochures, some of them offering high-end care costing thousands per month. I felt a warmth in my heart. “Sure, that sounds great. Let’s go to one of those centers, so Mom won’t have to do all the work,” I said, subtly hinting that I wasn’t too keen on having Mrs. Thompson in the house all the time. But every time I tried to bring up that conversation I overheard, Emanuel brushed it off with vague excuses. It left a shadow of doubt in my mind. One evening, as my due date approached, I went with Emanuel to visit his old family home again. We ended up staying the night there, under the same roof as Danny and Emily. Emanuel fell asleep early, but my pregnancy made it hard for me to sleep. As I lay there, the thin walls of the house didn’t do much to block out the sounds from the other room. I could hear the muffled sounds of Danny and Emily whispering in bed. “Danny, you’re disgusting! You’re saggy and wrinkled, you’re no better than an old rag!” Emily snapped at him. “You’re nothing compared to Sarah,” Danny shot back smugly. “What, like you’ve seen her?” Emily growled, incredulous. “Of course I have!” Danny responded, a proud tone in his voice. A cold shiver ran down my spine. His words, that smug tone—they left me feeling like I had just fallen into an icy lake. The sinking feeling in my gut was undeniable. And then it hit me. I thought back to the nights when Emanuel would blindfold me, saying it was for excitement. I remembered the way his sweat smelled different on those nights. Could it be? Could it be that the person lying on top of me back then wasn’t Emanuel at all—but Danny?

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One day, I heard some strange noises coming from Mrs. Gloria Bennett’s room. At first, I thought Mr. Charles Bennett had come home. But to my shock, it wasn’t him at all—Mrs. Bennett was having an affair! She knew I wouldn’t dare reveal her secret and continued acting with complete disregard. But just a few days later, she was diagnosed with HIV. And the man she was having an affair with… he was dead. It was a hot summer day, and the cicadas were chirping loudly outside. Half-asleep, I shifted in bed, only to be jolted awake by a sharp sting in my finger. Frustrated, I was now wide awake. It had been a terrible day. Earlier in the afternoon, I had gone out to pick up some groceries. Some mischievous kid had left a needle on the seat of a public bike, and I sat on it. To make matters worse, after getting home, Mrs. Bennett criticized me for not even being able to toss a proper coleslaw together. In my haste, I cut my hand while chopping. The cicadas grew louder outside, making sleep impossible. I gave up and headed to the bathroom. As soon as I stepped out of the bedroom, I heard loud moaning from Mrs. Bennett’s room—intense, unmistakable sounds of pleasure. Startled, I froze. Then I saw it—a pair of old men’s shoes in the hallway, mud still clinging to the soles. Mr. Bennett must have returned. Mr. Bennett was usually away for work, leaving Mrs. Bennett home alone. She never let herself go though; in fact, she had a better collection of makeup than I did. Given the situation, it made sense that Mr. Bennett might struggle to stay faithful. Not wanting to intrude, I quickly ducked into the bathroom. Even when I came out, the sounds from Mrs. Bennett’s room had only intensified. Feeling awkward, I hurried back to my room without even grabbing a glass of water. Lying in my darkened room, I couldn’t shake the empty feeling inside me. My mind raced with questions I couldn’t answer. Mr. Bennett and Eric both worked at the same research institute. They usually returned from work together. Why had only Mr. Bennett come home this time? With just my own warmth filling our queen-sized bed, I eventually drifted back to sleep, the cicadas fading into the background. The next morning, I woke up early. Mr. Bennett sometimes left in a hurry, so I wanted to make sure I could make breakfast for him. Despite my difficult relationship with Mrs. Bennett, Mr. Bennett was always kind to me. I was grateful to him—he was the only reason I could manage my strained relationship with his wife. I set the breakfast biscuits and oatmeal on the table, then turned to grab Mrs. Bennett’s oat milk, only to hear her voice from the other room. “Other women are out here being thrifty, but not you! A whole breakfast spread for just one meal? What are you trying to do, show off? You must be one of those country bumpkins who’s never seen luxury before, and now you’re here to feast at our expense!” Her words ignited an instant flame in my chest. I had been abandoned at birth and raised in an orphanage until I was adopted at age ten by the Richardsons, a kind couple from Rural Kentucky. After graduating from college, I moved to Chicago for work and eventually married Eric. After we got married, Eric and Mr. Bennett were frequently away on business. Mrs. Bennett used her “poor health” as an excuse to force me to quit my job and stay home as a full-time housewife. I did as she asked, but her torment never stopped. Whenever Eric was home, things were bearable. But the moment he left for work, Mrs. Bennett would criticize everything I did, accusing me of taking advantage of the family’s wealth. I walked out of the kitchen, slamming the oat milk down on the table. I was about to speak up, but the sight of my wedding ring caught my eye. The anger simmered down. Even if Mrs. Bennett didn’t like me, Eric had always shown me love and care. And just before he left this time, he promised me that in a month, once his current project was over, we would move out and finally have our own place. I took a deep breath and calmly explained, “I didn’t mean to make so much food. I just heard Mr. Bennett come home last night, so I made an extra plate—” I didn’t even finish before Mrs. Bennett shot up from her seat, grabbed the oat milk, and threw it in my face. “You little tramp! Trying to take over this house, aren’t you? You haven’t even given us a grandchild, and you’re already trying to get rid of me! Let me tell you something—if you don’t behave, I’ll make sure Eric kicks you out of this house!” Over the years, Mrs. Bennett’s outbursts had come out of nowhere, but she rarely got physical. For a moment, I stood there, stunned. She sat back down, smugly picking at her breakfast. I gritted my teeth and held back. Just one more month, and Eric and I would be out of here. Getting into a fight with her now wouldn’t help anything. I retreated to the bedroom to change clothes. From behind, I heard her sneer, clearly convinced I wouldn’t dare stand up to her.

By the time I finished changing, Mrs. Bennett had already left. The breakfast table looked like a battlefield. I told myself again and again—just one more month. I cleaned up the mess and went to prepare Eric’s clothes. The weather had been getting colder, and Eric had only taken his seasonal clothes on his last trip. I didn’t want him to catch a cold. After spending all morning busying myself, I had just sat down to lunch when the phone rang. “Did you make lunch yet? Bring it to the Bingo Hall.” Mrs. Bennett didn’t even wait for me to respond before hanging up. She had been treating me like a servant for years, but for Eric’s sake, I still packed up her lunch. I barely ate a bite before rushing over. “You’re so slow! What good are you for, anyway?” Mrs. Bennett grabbed the lunch box and shot me a glare. Mrs. Stewart, sitting nearby, couldn’t help but speak up for me. “Gloria, your daughter-in-law is pretty good! She brings you lunch every day. My daughter-in-law? I’m lucky if I even see her on holidays!” Mrs. Bennett snorted as she stuffed her face. “Please, she’s just some hillbilly from the country, spending my son’s money. And she probably ate her lunch before even bringing mine. What kind of ‘respect’ is that?” I wasn’t even listening to her at that point. My eyes were fixed on the familiar old men’s shoes—the same ones I saw at our house the night before. They were on Mr. George Franklin’s feet, the man sitting beside Mrs. Bennett at the Bingo table. The man Mrs. Bennett had been with last night wasn’t Mr. Bennett at all—it was Mr. Franklin! Mrs. Bennett had been having an affair right in our home! “What are you staring at? Didn’t you hear me talking to you?” Mrs. Bennett threw the lunch box at me, but I could see the guilt in her eyes. She shoved the box into my hands. “Get out of my sight! I can’t stand looking at you!” Stunned, I left in a daze. I couldn’t believe it. Mrs. Bennett, of all people, so strict and old-fashioned, was having an affair! This wasn’t my problem to solve—it was Eric’s mother, after all. And Eric valued family harmony above everything else. If I told him about this, there’s no telling what kind of trouble it would cause. I spent hours lost in thought until the sun had set and my phone rang. It was a video call from Eric. I answered, seeing his handsome but tired face on the screen. I couldn’t bring myself to tell him. “Hey, honey. I got the clothes you sent me this morning. I didn’t even notice the weather changing, but you did. You’re always so thoughtful.” I forced a smile, but Eric noticed something was off right away. “Is something wrong? Did Mom say something to you again? You look upset.” His concern made me feel even guiltier. But I lied. “No, everything’s fine. Just focus on your work.” I hadn’t figured out what to do yet, and at that moment, the front door opened. Mrs. Bennett was back. Afraid she might say something that would make Eric suspicious, I quickly ended the call. She seemed to be in a good mood, even humming a tune as she came in. After thinking about it for a while, I decided to speak up. “Mrs. Bennett, Mr. Bennett will be retiring in a few months, and Eric will be back home too. Let’s try to get along and live peacefully as a family.” I meant it as a subtle warning, hoping she’d stop her affair. But her reaction was explosive. She glared at me, hands on her hips. “Live peacefully? Who are you to tell me how to live? You can’t even give us a child, and you’re talking about peace? What a joke!” “And what about you? You’ve been sneaking around, haven’t you? Chatting up men behind my son’s back?” Her words hit me like a slap. How dare she accuse me of being unfaithful when she was the one having an affair? “If I did get pregnant, it wouldn’t be Eric’s! He’s been away for months!” Her face turned white at my words. She shot me a furious look and stormed into her room, slamming the door behind her.

Whether it was my words or the guilt of her affair, Mrs. Bennett stayed quiet for the next month. She left every morning after breakfast and didn’t ask me to bring her lunch anymore. She would return home, lock herself in her room, and we barely saw each other. On my birthday, Eric called to apologize for not being able to make it back. But later that afternoon, a bouquet of flowers arrived from him. The card had a quote from our favorite college poem. It brought a warm feeling to my heart, reminding me of the love we shared. “You little vixen! Eric’s not home, so this must be from one of your lovers!” Mrs. Bennett started in again, but this time I wasn’t fazed. “Mom, these flowers are from Eric. He sent them to me.” She sneered, “Of course, wasting my son’s money on flowers for you!” I didn’t bother to argue. I picked up the flowers, ready to head back to my room when she called out again. “You ungrateful thing! I’m sick, and you don’t even notice! Take me to the hospital!” My heart raced. She had seemed fine just moments ago. “What’s wrong, Mom? Are you okay? I’ll get the car keys!” “No! Gas is too expensive. Just push me in the wheelchair.” She insisted, so I had no choice but to wheel her to the hospital. On the way, she complained of diarrhea and a fever. It sounded like the flu, but I didn’t want to take any chances. Eric would be worried if it turned into something more serious. At the hospital, the doctor listened to her symptoms with a strange expression and ordered a blood test. Hours later, when I saw the results, I was shocked. It was HIV. I froze in place, staring in disbelief while Mrs. Gloria Bennett’s face was etched with panic. “It was you! It had to be you! You hate me, so you must have done something to my food, didn’t you?!” Her face twisted with anger, while onlookers started gathering, whispering to each other. I didn’t want this whole situation to explode in public, especially not her HIV diagnosis. I tried to push her out of the hospital, but she grabbed my arm. “If I’m going down, I’m taking you with me! Now that I’ve got HIV, you’re not getting off easy!” she screamed, trying to bite me. I instinctively yanked my arm away, causing her to stumble and fall to the ground. She glared at me with pure hatred. I had tried to be patient with her all these years, but now she was accusing me of poisoning her? I couldn’t take it anymore. “I swear I’ve never been unfaithful to Eric! Can you say the same for yourself, Mrs. Bennett?” Her face turned ghostly pale, and the murmurs from the crowd grew louder, like daggers piercing through her. “You… you! Everyone, come look! She’s abusing an old woman!” Mrs. Bennett cried, pulling at my arm again. In the struggle, the test results slipped from my hand, caught by the wind, and flew toward the courtyard. A neighbor picked up the paper and glanced at it, her eyes widening. “There’s HIV in our neighborhood!” The entire crowd changed. Faces of disgust and judgment surrounded us. “I knew it! With her husband gone all the time, it’s no wonder something like this happened!” “They’re supposed to be from a respectable family, but look at them now!” “Mrs. Bennett was always talking about how terrible her daughter-in-law was. Could it be the daughter-in-law gave it to her?” I looked at Mrs. Bennett, who was now shrinking under the weight of the gossip. She didn’t say a word, just trembling under the accusing eyes of the neighbors. I let out a cold laugh and walked back to the house. If Mrs. Bennett wanted to claim I mistreated her, I might as well show her how “bad” I could really be. She could clean up her own mess this time. Mrs. Bennett gathered the test results from the ground and followed me home, looking defeated. This was too big to hide from Eric and Mr. Bennett. After all, they were both in the medical field—they’d know what to do better than I ever could. I picked up my phone to call Eric, but before I could dial, Mrs. Bennett collapsed to her knees in front of me.

“Lauren, please, please don’t tell Eric or Mr. Bennett. I don’t want to distract them from their work!” I looked at her coldly. Even now, she was worried about keeping up appearances. Mrs. Bennett was desperate now, slumped on the floor, crying uncontrollably. “If they find out, I’ll have no reason to live! I’m begging you, Lauren, if you make that call, I’ll end it right here!” Before I could respond, she rushed into the kitchen and grabbed a knife, pressing it to her throat. “Fine, fine, I won’t tell them. Tomorrow, I’ll go to the hospital and get the medicine. Just take the meds, okay?” Afraid she might hurt herself, I gave in for now. Mrs. Bennett lowered the knife, tears streaming down her face as she stood, shoulders hunched. The once proud and domineering woman now looked completely defeated. A part of me almost pitied her. The next morning, I woke up early to head to the hospital, but when I opened the door, I was greeted with a nasty surprise—someone had spray-painted bright red words on our front door and wall. “HIV-Infected Scum, Get Out!” Anger surged through me, but what could I do? If I had neighbors like this, even if I wasn’t the target, I’d feel uncomfortable too. I closed the door and hurried to the hospital to pick up Mrs. Bennett’s medication. When I returned, I found Mr. George Franklin, looking frail and miserable, standing at the door with his two children. They were banging on the door, demanding to be let in. Both of Mr. Franklin’s kids were wearing full protective suits, making him look even smaller and more fragile. “Gloria Bennett! If you don’t open this door right now, we’ll break it down!” “Disgusting! Acting like a tramp at your age, not only ruining yourself but dragging our family down too!” “Let me tell you something! If my dad’s sick, it’s because of you! Your family has to take responsibility for him now. We’ll move him in, and you’ll take care of him!” I rushed forward just in time. Mr. Franklin’s daughter turned toward me, glaring. “You must be Gloria Bennett’s daughter-in-law. Open the door, or I’ll make sure the entire neighborhood knows exactly what kind of filthy woman your mother-in-law is!” Despite my own anger, I knew it was Mrs. Bennett’s fault. With a forced apology, I let them into the house. “You had the nerve to seduce my dad, but now you’re hiding like a coward? Gloria Bennett, it’s too late to save face!” “I’m really sorry for everything. If Mr. Franklin is worried about his health, I’ll take him to the hospital to get tested. If anything’s wrong, we’ll take full responsibility.” Just as I was trying to calm things down, Mrs. Bennett stormed out of her room, holding a pair of scissors to her throat. “George Franklin, you better tell the truth! I’ve only ever been with you! If I’m sick, it’s because you gave it to me!” Mr. Franklin’s eyes widened in shock, his frail hand pointing toward Mrs. Bennett, trembling. “You… you…” Before he could finish, Mr. Franklin clutched his chest and collapsed.

I gasped, rushing to call an ambulance. After making sure Mrs. Bennett was safe, I followed the ambulance to the hospital, where Mr. Franklin was rushed into surgery. I spent the entire day without food or water, too exhausted and dizzy to think straight. After hours of waiting, I grabbed a couple of sandwiches to eat. But before I could even take a bite, Mr. Franklin’s daughter showed up at my door again. “Gloria Bennett! You heartless witch! My dad just passed away in the hospital, and you’re going to pay for it!” Mrs. Bennett’s eyes filled with rage as she shouted back, “I got sick because of him! If anything, he should have been paying me! You’re not getting a dime from me!” Fearing the situation would escalate, I opened the door. Mr. Franklin’s daughter stormed in, shouting at me. “Lauren Mitchell! Forget the HIV for now—your mother-in-law killed my father! If you don’t give me fifty thousand dollars by tomorrow, I’ll camp outside your house and shame you all!” I had barely eaten a thing, and now, on top of being screamed at, she pushed me hard enough that nausea overwhelmed me. I collapsed, throwing up on the floor. Her anger faltered for a moment, but she kept sneering, “Oh, are you pretending to be sick? I wouldn’t be surprised if your whole family is infected with HIV! If I don’t have that money by tomorrow morning, I’m showing up at your husband’s workplace!” After finally managing to get her out of the house, I was left feeling both panicked and exhausted. The nausea wouldn’t stop, and Mrs. Bennett, who had been watching, suddenly looked concerned. “You’re not… pregnant, are you?” I froze, then dashed to the bathroom to grab a pregnancy test. Two lines appeared immediately. Eric had been home three months ago, so that meant the baby was three months along. Instead of joy, Mr. Franklin’s daughter’s cruel words rang in my head. What if my whole family had HIV… I couldn’t hold back anymore. I went to my room, locked the door, and sobbed until there were no tears left. The next morning, before dawn, Eric and Mr. Bennett returned home. I had been waiting for this moment, but now, instead of joy, I felt nothing but fear as I broke into tears in Eric’s arms. Eric held me close, stroking my hair. “It’s okay. HIV isn’t as easily transmitted as people think. Even if we do test positive, there are treatments now. We’ll get through this together. As soon as it’s light, I’ll take you to the hospital for tests.” His words gave me a small spark of hope. Maybe, just maybe, after all this time living with Mrs. Bennett, I hadn’t caught anything. We didn’t have any direct contact—there was a chance I was still safe. At the hospital, Eric and I went in for testing. While waiting for the results, Mr. Franklin’s daughter called again. “Lauren Mitchell! We had my dad’s body tested—he didn’t have HIV! Your mother-in-law killed him by sheer stress!” I felt the world go black around me, but just then, the nurse called us to collect our results. Eric picked up the report, glanced at it, and then quickly tucked it into his bag. But I didn’t need to look. I already knew. I had HIV.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “294716”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster #现实主义Realistic #校园School #魔幻Magic #励志Inspiring

It was me who made sure my brother-in-law’s divorce happened. I didn’t really do much—just sent him some Instagram message screenshots of my sister-in-law and my husband pouring their hearts out to each other. After all, he had stayed faithful to her for three years and hadn’t even touched me. I figured it was only right to let them be together. I’m done being trapped in a sham marriage. On the day all hell broke loose at their house, I was there too. The four of us sat in the same room. Graham, my brother-in-law, was determined to get a divorce. Lily, my sister-in-law, was crying like a damsel in distress, looking so pitiful that if I were a man, I’d have comforted her myself. So naturally, my husband, Dylan, was there playing the hero, kneeling at her feet, practically begging her to smile again. True love, am I right? Graham didn’t care at all for Lily’s tears, but her lover, my husband, couldn’t take it anymore. He lashed out at Graham, shouting, “How can you be so heartless? Lily’s an amazing woman, and now she’s crying like this, and you still have the nerve to blame her?” Graham, being the rational man he is, was furious. “Dylan Foster, do you even remember she’s your sister-in-law?” But, oh no, my cheating husband didn’t back down. Bold as ever, he responded, “She’s your wife! Have you done your duty as a husband? Do you even know how long you’ve been gone on business trips? Two or three months at a time, never around. Lily’s been home alone, exhausted and crying. Where were you?” A brilliant speech. If you forgot who was talking, it’d almost sound reasonable. I couldn’t hold it in anymore. I slapped him across the face and said, “So, you decided to ‘take care of her’ in your brother’s bed? Why didn’t Graham help me out when I’ve been living like a nun for all these years?” Dylan lost it. He turned his anger towards me, saying, “You’ve always been trouble. I married you because I thought you were a decent woman, but now look at you.” He had the nerve to say, “I regret marrying you. You’ve been nothing but a disappointment.” Classic double standards. He’s been caught in bed with his sister-in-law, but I’m the problem because I dared to expose it. Dylan, in his usual self-righteous tone, said, “Avery, be reasonable. I just made a mistake all good-hearted men are bound to make. Can’t you forgive me? You’re a woman too. Can’t you empathize with Lily’s pain?” Honestly, the first time I walked in on them, besides the anger and hatred, there was a sense of relief. Three years into our marriage, and he had used his “ED” as an excuse not to touch me. I thought I was being an “understanding” wife. When I saw him cheating, I was furious, but I also felt free. I wouldn’t have to keep pretending to be the dutiful wife who felt guilty for wanting a real man. “Go to hell with your ‘understanding.’ If you cared so much for Lily, why didn’t you marry her in the first place? It wasn’t me who begged you to marry me, was it? No, you chased me down, saying you couldn’t live without me.” Before he could respond, I added, “You want to sleep with your sister-in-law, but then you went and married me. What a joke.” Oh, he wanted to marry Lily, alright. But Lily didn’t want to leave Graham—he was still the better catch. Dylan only married me because he was getting too much pressure to settle down. After the wedding, he even told me he had ED to keep up his “purity.” There isn’t a more pathetic man on this planet. Furious, Dylan raised his hand to hit me. Smack! But the blow never landed. Graham stepped in, blocking him with his arm. Graham growled at him, “Dylan, you’re lucky you’re my brother. If anyone else dared to humiliate me like this, they’d be dead.” Dylan froze, then stammered, “Graham…” I seized the moment, slapping him again. “You disgusting piece of garbage. Just being near you makes me sick.” “And don’t worry. Not only is Graham divorcing Lily, but I’m divorcing you too. I’ll make sure you and your precious Lily are together forever in your twisted love story.” With that, I left, locking the door behind me. Whatever happened between Graham and Lily or how Dylan tried to fix things was no longer my concern. That night, Dylan banged on the door for ten minutes straight, but I didn’t open it. He only left after the neighbors came out and started yelling at him. The next day, though, I didn’t expect Lily’s mom to come storming into my office.

She stormed into my office, screaming at the top of her lungs, “Avery Harper, get out here! You homewrecker! You’re disgusting! You’re gonna pay for this!” Her voice echoed through the entire office. I calmly pulled out my phone, dialed Graham, and put it on speaker in my pocket. This mess was his family’s problem to deal with, after all. Lily’s mom, ever the drama queen, started her performance the moment she saw me. “Oh, Avery, you’re just jealous that my Lily is prettier than you. She’s got a better husband, a better life, and you can’t stand it. You just want to ruin her marriage! Where’s your boss? You should be fired, you filthy homewrecker.” Her whole speech about how I was jealous of her daughter’s perfect husband would’ve been funny if it weren’t for the fact that her “perfect” daughter was the one sleeping with mine. Seeing her slap her thigh and roll on the floor in hysterics was honestly nauseating. I didn’t realize Lily’s mom was this kind of woman. What a learning experience. I checked my phone. Graham had hung up, but I wasn’t worried. I turned on the camera function, recording her tantrum for future reference. Then, I turned to my coworkers, saying, “Sorry about this, everyone. I’ve run into some trouble, but could you all be witnesses? In case this lady claims I hurt her later.” Lily’s mom, clearly not expecting this, looked shocked. But she wasn’t someone who backed down easily. “Yes, everyone come and look! This is the woman who’s trying to ruin my daughter’s marriage.” Well, alright, Mrs. Carmichael. You asked for it. “If we’re going to do this, let’s talk about how I ruined your daughter’s marriage, shall we? Was it because I told your son-in-law that your daughter was cheating?” Lily’s mom shrieked, “No! That’s a lie! You’re just slandering her. How dare you break up a family? Why don’t you just die?” She came at me, trying to hit me. I quietly rolled up my sleeves, ready to teach her a lesson. But suddenly, a tall figure stepped between us, blocking her from me. Graham had arrived. He nodded at me before turning his fury on Lily’s mom. “Enough.” Lily’s mom slapped her thighs dramatically, screaming, “This is it! You’re all trying to kill me! Where’s the boss? I need someone to handle this!” Peeking around Graham’s shoulder, I said, “You really wanna keep this going? I’ve got some lovely bedroom photos of Lily and Dylan right here. I could show everyone, even your daughter’s coworkers. How about we take a look together?” Hearing this, Lily’s mom bolted out of the office faster than a rabbit. Guess her daughter told her about the divorce but left out the part about being caught cheating. Graham, watching his mother-in-law flee, muttered an apology. “I’ll handle my family from now on.” But clearly, his family had other plans.

After Lily’s mom’s outburst, Dylan decided to take things up a notch by calling my mom, saying he wanted to bring me back to my hometown. My mom, of course, got excited and called me right away, asking when I was coming home. I knew Dylan was trying to manipulate me, using my mom against me. So, I decided to ask Graham for help. He had promised to handle his family’s mess, and Dylan was part of that too. I met Graham at a small café to talk things over. He apologized again, saying he would keep his mother-in-law and the rest of his family in check from now on. He even promised to warn Dylan to stop causing trouble. I wasn’t having it. I had Lily’s scandalous video right there in my phone, and I couldn’t believe she still had the nerve to cause a scene. How shameless could they be? I was the victim here. Honestly, I was doing them a favor by not going to Lily’s neighborhood and making a spectacle out of it. These people had no shame, causing all this trouble and still turning the blame on me. “Your brother tricked me into this marriage, made me live like a widow. Your wife had an affair with him. And then her mother comes to my office to harass me. Graham, I’m done with all of you. Your entire family owes me.” I knew Graham wasn’t really to blame, but I had to let it all out. And he just sat there, calm as ever, taking my angry rant in stride. He didn’t say a word while I pointed my finger at him and shouted. He even ordered me my favorite drink—a half-sweet iced tea—and slid it across the table. I took a sip. It was perfect. Even after three years of marriage, Dylan never bothered to remember the little things I liked. Looking at Graham, a thought popped into my head. “If you really feel sorry for me, then make it up to me.” Graham didn’t flinch. “Alright.” “I want Dylan to leave this marriage with nothing,” I blurted out. Then, I quickly added, “And I want you to be with me.” I couldn’t understand why Lily would ever cheat on a man like Graham. He never complained about her extravagant spending or her increasingly absurd demands. He bought her designer bags, sent her on trips abroad, and even indulged her mother’s ridiculous requests. Graham was either at work or on his way to work. I remember once when he had a high fever, and I went over to bring him some soup. He had fainted at home, and if I hadn’t been there, he could’ve been in real trouble. As I cleaned him up and wiped him down with rubbing alcohol, I noticed holes in his socks. He laughed and said it was because he walked too much, and Lily hadn’t noticed. In that moment, I felt a pang of jealousy. If Dylan had even half of Graham’s decency, I’d have been happy to live like a saint my whole life. How could Lily not appreciate a man like that? Meanwhile, Dylan wasn’t even in the same league. I wanted that kind of marriage. Graham’s expression softened a bit, his usual unreadable face showing a hint of thought. He looked at me, his guilt and concern replaced with something more calculating. “You want to use me to get revenge on them?” he asked. “Yeah,” I answered without hesitation. Then I added, “But that’s not the only reason. Dylan’s betrayal has left me with scars, and I see a perfect man right in front of me who his wife doesn’t appreciate. If Lily can’t see what she has, I can. And let’s be real—I’d be a great wife. My parents adore their sons-in-law, you know that.” Graham nodded. “Alright. After the divorce, if you still want, I can take responsibility.” That was… shockingly easy. Wasn’t he going to think about it more? He must’ve sensed my doubt because he continued, “I’m a calm person, but that doesn’t mean I don’t get angry. And you’re right. If they don’t know how to value what they have, then why shouldn’t we choose someone who does?”

I wasn’t about to let Dylan’s late-night door-knocking become a regular occurrence. After I got back to my house, I packed all my things, locked the door, and took the car keys with me. No way was Dylan going to keep driving around in my car while seeing Lily. I checked into The Lexington Hotel near my office and sent Graham a message: I’ve moved out. He replied almost instantly: Where to? I told him about the hotel. His next message was short: Stay safe. I was about to roll my eyes when another message came through: I’m on my way. Honestly, I was just updating him out of courtesy, but the fact that he was this concerned caught me a little off guard. Well, I figured it couldn’t hurt to have him over. We could plan our next moves together. While waiting for him, I called my lawyer friend, Megan, to get some advice. I needed to figure out how to ensure Dylan and Lily ended up walking away with nothing. Megan told me that since we co-owned the house, and the car was in my name, I should immediately file for an asset freeze with the court. She also suggested I dig into Dylan’s finances and demand he reimburse me for every penny he spent on Lily. Meanwhile, Lily’s mom kept babbling on about how I was jealous of her daughter. But deep down, she knew her son-in-law couldn’t hold a candle to Graham. Handsome, successful, and in great shape—Lily must’ve wanted both men in her life. I bet stealing my husband and watching him ignore me gave her some sick sense of power. Well, Graham was mine now. Step one of my revenge. After messaging Graham, I showered and wrapped myself up in a fluffy bathrobe, waiting for him. When he finally arrived, this man—so predictable—handed me his jacket and said, “It’s chilly. Don’t catch a cold.” I tossed the jacket aside and leaned against him, pressing my hand to his chest. Oh, hello—nice muscles. But Graham, ever the gentleman, just lifted me off him like I weighed nothing and set me aside. I felt a sting of embarrassment and snapped, “What’s the matter, Graham? Are you going to stay loyal to Lily now, too, like your brother?” Graham sighed and patted my head, like I was some misbehaving child. “Isn’t cheating wrong?” “Yes.” “And we’re still married, right?” “Yes. But I’m doing this for revenge! Why should I play by the rules when they haven’t?” Graham wrapped me up in a blanket like a burrito and said gently, “That’s the difference. They’re the bad guys, and you’re the good one. Avery Harper is the sweetest, most deserving woman in the world. So, if we’re going to be together, we’ll do it the right way.” I couldn’t help but laugh inside the blanket cocoon. Alright, fine. Maybe he did get to me.

Graham booked a room next to mine for the night. Over the next few days, he was busy pushing forward the divorce with Lily. Lily had run back to her parents’ house and wasn’t taking his calls. Graham went over to see her family once and handed over the divorce agreement. The deal? She wouldn’t get any of his assets. Lily’s mother lost it, screaming about how her daughter had given Graham the best years of her life, and now he wanted to throw her away with nothing. They refused to sign the papers and kicked him out. It didn’t matter, though. Graham filed for divorce through the courts, and it was in the hands of the lawyers now. I still couldn’t wrap my head around why Lily would let go of a man like Graham. At first, I had only been thinking about getting revenge on Dylan by cozying up to Graham. But the more time I spent with him, the more I realized—this was the kind of man I wanted to marry for real. Tall, handsome, responsible… Graham wasn’t the uptight guy I thought he was either. He had this low-key, CEO vibe going on, and I was here for it. But, of course, some people just have to ruin a good thing. Lily sent me a taunting message on Instagram. “What kind of woman are you? Can’t even keep your own husband.” “Let me tell you something—Dylan and I were together before you even came along. You’re the side piece. He hates touching you. You’ll never compare to me.” “He says I’ll always be his only woman. You’re just a fool, destined to live as a widow.” “Why don’t you just die? You think you deserve any of the money? You don’t. No one will ever love you. You’ll never win.” She actually thought I was her competition. Seriously? She liked feeding on garbage, and she expected me to think it was gourmet? I rolled my eyes and sent her a thumbs up. Thanks for the additional evidence of Dylan’s affair. Lily didn’t stop there, though. Her next message read: “Dylan is in his prime. He’s a beast in bed. You’ll never know what that’s like.” I raised an eyebrow and nudged Graham, who was sitting next to me peeling an apple. “Well, looks like your wife thinks your brother’s better in bed than you.” Graham handed me the apple, staring at me for a moment before saying in a low voice, “She’s my ex-wife.” That dark, intense gaze made me pause. I just shrugged and said, “Ex-wife, then. No need to get all worked up.” Before I could fire off another reply to Lily, Graham took my phone away and, dead serious, said, “If you want to find out, you’ll have to marry me first.” I chomped down on the apple, pretending not to notice how my heart skipped a beat. Well, then. Looks like I’d need to hurry up and finalize that divorce.

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