Author: Momo Chan

I was bullied for three years, living in darkness. To escape this hell, I chose to climb into my bully’s bed, doing everything I could to please him, just to earn a bit of pity. Then, I sent him to prison myself. My relationship with Ethan Miller began when I shamelessly broke into his apartment. I lay on his bed, pulling the covers over myself when I heard the door open. As he walked into the bedroom, I could sense his footsteps and breath falter for a moment. When he lifted the covers, he saw me. I glanced at him, waiting for him to come closer, but he just stood there, looking at me. He lit a cigarette, coldly flicked the ash onto me, and raised an eyebrow, sneering, “Lia Parker, how desperate are you? Aren’t you just here for business? Get the hell off my bed right now! You’re filthy.” I wiped off the ash and sat up, using every ounce of my strength to appear seductive: “Say what you want. Even if you think that, I won’t take a cent from you. You can do whatever you want.” He slapped me hard across the face, turning my head to the side. “Whatever I want? How about this?” My cheek burned with pain, but I still smiled coyly: “Of course, today I’ll do whatever you say.” He gripped my arm and cursed, “You’re disgusting, just like everyone says.” Yes, I thought, I do feel utterly disgusting right now. But I still tried my best to charm him. Afterward, with a cigarette in one hand and the other wrapped around me, I could tell he was satisfied with my performance. He blew smoke in my face: “What’s your price?” I swallowed my nausea and giggled in response: “I don’t want your money.” “Oh really?” He grabbed my hair, “You’re making me happy, so how about you stick with me from now on?” I tilted my head back to lessen the pain from my hair being pulled: “I’m telling you, I’m nothing like the rumors. Do you believe me?” He laughed mockingly: “Don’t play coy with me. Who have you been with before?” “Ha, if I said I didn’t even know, would you believe that?” This was the start of my relationship with Ethan Miller, but it wasn’t my first time doing something like this. Who were the others before him? I truly didn’t know. It was as if I didn’t know what I did wrong that led my life to this point, deeply mired in a quagmire, unable to escape.

Ethan Miller wasn’t joking. He saved my contact information, and from then on, he’d reach out to me every few days. No matter what I was doing, I would drop everything to be there. I had to seize every opportunity. Every time I left his apartment, I walked away without taking a dime and without a word. After a while, one day he suddenly pulled me into his arms and curiously asked, “Just last night, a buddy of mine saw you at the cafeteria’s charity line, grabbing those two-dollar meals and drinking free soup. Is that even food? Not even fit for pigs! You’re so broke you can’t afford a meal, and you act like you’re above it all? Don’t you feel even a little tempted by this money? Not a cent? I don’t believe it!” I looked up at him in his arms, my gaze sincere: “I’m not after your money, so I won’t take a cent.” That wasn’t a lie; I didn’t seek him out for money. He smirked, scrutinizing me: “Then why are you so eager to find me? You think I’m handsome?” He had a decent face, but his soul was rotten. I wasn’t interested. Seeing me silent, he added, “Don’t say it’s because you love me. I don’t buy that. If you’re going to say that, you might as well leave.” I placed my hand on his chest: “I wasn’t going to say that. Ethan, you asked, so I had to be honest. My sister really likes you, and I just enjoy stealing what my sister likes. How does that sound? Are you satisfied?” He looked a bit bewildered: “Your sister? Who?” “Sophie Parker.” He burst into laughter: “That clingy one?” I nodded. To him, Sophie Parker was a pathetic clingy girl, but in my world, she was the culprit behind my ruined life. He pressed my head into his chest and rubbed it roughly until I felt suffocated: “You like stealing things? So I’ve become a thing now? Fine! But Lia, let me tell you, I’m not a stingy person. You don’t want money? I’ll give you something else. From now on, I’ll protect you, and Sophie will never bully you again.” That was exactly what I wanted to hear.

Sophie Parker had bullied me for four whole years. I spent three years of high school under her shadow and couldn’t shake her off in college either. Thanks to Sophie, rumors about me spread at the start of freshman year, and everyone thought I was loose. Shortly after school started, she brought a gang of friends to beat me up and humiliate me in the dance studio while Ethan stood by and watched. He was also one of the bullies. But when I looked up, he saw my face. I had known since childhood that I wasn’t bad-looking. It was precisely because I was somewhat pretty that I endured some dirty malice. Some men think pretty women are just there for sale; no one cares if the rumors are true. They just enjoy humiliating beautiful girls they can’t have. Ethan stared at my face for a while, then waved his hand impatiently: “Enough, enough. I’m tired of watching this; let her have a way out.” No one dared to defy him, not even Sophie, who reluctantly let go. So, I was saved. Then he came up to me, grabbed my hair, and forced me to lift my face: “You’re quite pretty. What’s your price?” Everyone laughed, and someone pointed at me, saying serving Ethan was a privilege; I should be grateful and thank him. Ethan was a player, switching girlfriends more often than changing clothes. With his father on the board of trustees, he spent his time drinking, fighting, and racing, living life to the fullest. His family was wealthy and influential, and I heard he had gotten into serious trouble before, once pushing someone off the sixth floor, leaving them paralyzed, and even robbing girls walking alone at night, but his family always bailed him out. When he said that, I realized he wasn’t showing mercy; he was just attracted to my looks. What a rotten person. He didn’t want to save me. He was merely lusting after me and wanted to humiliate me. That fleeting moment of desire became the root of my tragic life. I hated him. But at least, at this moment, I would still do everything I could to please him. I fell into the abyss because of him, but I would also use him to climb back up.

To be honest, my life at school was anything but normal. My family was wealthy, but I received no allowance from them. My tuition was covered by student loans, and I survived on work-study jobs and part-time work. From Monday to Friday, I stood at the cafeteria’s oil-poured noodle window for an hour and a half each day, earning five hundred dollars a month plus one free meal. On weekends, I tutored and handed out flyers to earn some meager pocket money. After Ethan took me under his wing, I neglected my weekend jobs to deal with him, significantly reducing my income. Aside from working, I dedicated all my time to studying, sleeping only five and a half hours a night. It was tough, but I relished it. I was planning to apply for a study abroad program in South Korea, which was funded, and only the best students could get this opportunity. I wanted to leave this place, so I had to seize this chance. While working at the noodle window, I wore a mask and a hat, covering myself up so those who bullied me wouldn’t recognize me. But honestly, even if they did, it shouldn’t matter. Ethan said he’d protect me, and I guessed he told Sophie something because she had been quiet for a long time. She and her gang hadn’t bothered me in ages. That afternoon, there weren’t many people, it was the peak of summer, and the heat in the kitchen was suffocating. I couldn’t stand it anymore and secretly took off my mask for a moment. In just those few minutes, I was recognized by Sophie’s lackey, Hannah Smith. Hannah came up to the window to stir trouble, pointing at me and mockingly shouting that no one would dare eat what a “chicken” had touched, drawing the attention of everyone in the cafeteria. I watched through the glass as people whispered and pointed—“Huh? Is that really Lia Parker? I heard she’s pretty. What’s she doing here? Is she sick?”—male and female voices overlapping and blending, drowning me in a sea of chatter. Those voices felt vivid, yet they seemed like meaningless symbols flowing past my ears. I was used to it. I didn’t care. Suddenly, a soda bottle came flying toward Hannah, hitting her squarely in the head, and she stumbled to the ground. Everyone turned to look, and Ethan came over. I knew he never ate cafeteria food, so I felt safe working there. I had no idea why he was here today. I figured Hannah thought Ethan wouldn’t show up, so she dared to cause trouble, probably intending to brag to Sophie later. As Hannah tried to get up, Ethan didn’t care that she was a girl. He stepped on her head and ground his shoe against her hand, listening to her wail in pain. He looked around menacingly, threatening her and everyone present: “What the hell did you just say? Take those words back! If I hear anyone talking about her again, they’ll regret it. If you don’t want to lose an arm or a leg or not graduate, just try it. By the way, tell Sophie Parker I’m protecting Lia. Don’t think you can get away with bullying her just because I’m not around; you’re going to cross me if you do, got it?” Ethan lifted his foot, and Hannah nodded, crawling away in a hurry. He walked up to the window and knocked on the glass: “Come outside with me.” “I’m not off work yet.” He rolled his eyes: “Then give me a plate of noodles.” I quickly cooked up a serving of noodles and handed it to him. He took the takeout and leaned closer to the window: “Come find me when you’re done.” I nodded, and he turned to leave. As soon as he was gone, the boss patted me on the shoulder, looking conflicted, and told me not to come back anymore; he would settle my pay. Well, after all that, who would still dare to employ me? Now my life was going to get even tougher. So, I took off my uniform and stepped outside. People in the cafeteria would still sneak glances at me, but no one dared to discuss me anymore. I exited the cafeteria and found Ethan not heading home but sitting on the steps smoking, still holding the takeout of noodles. I reached out my hand: “Give it to me; I’ll throw it away.” “Why throw it away?” He looked up at me, “I haven’t eaten yet.” “Aren’t you the one who never eats cafeteria food?” “I haven’t, but I wanted to try something new.” He extinguished his cigarette, stood up, and started walking toward the school gate. “What the hell are you doing? My friends told me you were working at the cafeteria, and I didn’t believe it. But here you are! Even if you covered yourself up, I still recognized you. I give you so much money, and you refuse it, happily working here as cheap labor, huh? What exactly are you after?” I smiled: “I’ve said I don’t want your money, but I have to live. My family doesn’t give me any money, so how can I afford to eat without working?” He seemed surprised: “Sophie Parker is your sister; her family is your family, right? Your family is wealthy, so how come she lives so well while you have nothing? Is this all you live on?” “Now I don’t even have this; the boss fired me.” I didn’t want to cry. I thought I was strong enough, but at that moment, tears flowed uncontrollably. I wasn’t just upset about the five hundred dollars; I was worried that as soon as I got my life on track, Sophie and her friends would pounce, leaving me with nothing. Despair. True despair. But how could Ethan like a crying woman? So, I wiped my tears, crying and laughing at the same time. He wiped my face roughly: “What are you crying about? How much is a plate of noodles worth? Three hundred? Five hundred? I’ll give you ten times that! Stick with me, and you can have whatever you want!” He waved the takeout of noodles, “Haven’t you skipped lunch too? Why not eat this?” I paused for a moment: “… I worked there for two and a half months, eating this every day for free. I’m sick of it; just the sight of noodles makes me nauseous.” He stared at me for a while, then burst out laughing, pulling me into a small restaurant he often frequented, ordering an entire feast. I shamelessly devoured everything. This was the most sumptuous meal I’d had since starting college. I couldn’t possibly eat that much, but I still stuffed my face. Eating filled my brain with dopamine, bringing me joy, and my mind would remember that feeling. I just wanted to seek a little happiness in my muddy life. Even if it was just a bit.

Although I lost my job at the noodle window, after Ethan’s scene in the cafeteria, no one dared to bully me again, nor did they dare to gossip—at least not in front of me. Ethan insisted I take his money. He pointed at my face and cursed, “Lia Parker, what the hell is with that inexplicable pride? Just come live with me; I’ll take care of you.” So I moved into his place, avoiding those roommates who isolated me, which wasn’t bad. Everyone knew we were living together, but whether to me or outsiders, he never referred to me as his girlfriend. He often wasn’t home, out partying with friends and probably getting involved with other women. But I didn’t mind. He didn’t come home but hired a maid to cook three meals a day for me. My food and accommodation were taken care of, so whether or not I worked didn’t matter. On days he was gone, I could use more time to study. One day, he surprisingly came home early. I was wearing headphones and didn’t hear him come in. He walked up behind me and tapped my shoulder, startling me. I turned around, and he picked up my book, glanced at it, then threw it back, smacking his lips: “You’re still studying? A good student? How did a good student end up here?” I remained silent as he closed my book and forcefully pulled me up: “What’s there to study? Come on, let’s go out and have fun.” I had no room to resist and had to follow him out. At that moment, I wondered if he really couldn’t stand seeing others studying or if he just wanted me to struggle in the mud for the rest of my life. I couldn’t figure it out, and it didn’t matter; I would definitely secure that opportunity to study abroad and leave here. He took me to a billiards hall where a group of his friends were. When they saw me, their gazes were curious, but no one dared to say anything. I didn’t know how to play billiards, so I just watched. At the nearby table, a tall guy was playing poorly, swinging too hard and missing the shot. In frustration, he hit the ball too hard, and it flew out, hitting Ethan. Ethan picked up the ball, clenching it in his hand, tilting his head, and exhaled smoke, giving him a sideways glance: “You looking for trouble?” The guy didn’t seem to be a student from our school and didn’t know Ethan’s notorious reputation. He boldly challenged, “Don’t look at me like that! Who do you think you are?” I can only say that many times, the so-called bravado of men seems so childish, at least in my eyes. They exchanged punches, and I couldn’t tell who started it first, but they began to fight. I stepped back, keeping my distance; no one came looking for trouble with a woman. The billiards hall owner hurriedly called the police. They were at each other’s throats, determined to fight until one of them was seriously injured. Ethan wielded that billiard ball as his weapon; it was heavy, and he never shied away from causing harm, aiming for the head. But then the other guy pulled out a switchblade. It was small and fast, and they were too close to realize what was happening. But I watched from the sidelines with clarity. In that moment, my only thought was that this was my chance. I dashed forward and shoved Ethan aside, and the switchblade stabbed into my body, the blade embedding itself beneath my skin. It hurt—badly. The blood was warm, and no matter how hard I pressed, it wouldn’t stop. My vision blurred with the flowing blood, as if my soul were leaking out with it. Ethan picked me up and rushed me out of the billiards hall, taking me to the hospital. I had gambled too much this time. That stab could have killed me; if I had been even a moment later getting to the hospital, I would be dead. I survived, but I had to stay in the hospital. Ethan bought a ton of dishes from that small restaurant for me, but I had no appetite and couldn’t eat a thing. He stayed with me in the hospital, pacing around, lighting a cigarette but not daring to smoke. So I told him he didn’t need to stay; I was fine. He tossed the cigarette and sat back down, saying he’d wait until I fell asleep before leaving. I didn’t say anything, letting him do as he pleased. He fell silent for a while before suddenly calling my name: “Lia Parker.” “Hmm?” “Why?” “Why what?” “Don’t play dumb. Why did you take that knife for me? Can’t you see that guy was ready to kill?” I held back the pain and forced a smile: “Because I realized that’s why I had to block it.” “If you don’t want to laugh, then don’t. I know you don’t smile that much.” After he said this, he suddenly grabbed my chin, staring intently at me, before saying after a moment, “Are you really falling for me?” “Not at all.” I remembered he had said before not to say anything about loving him; he didn’t buy it, and if I did, I could prepare to leave. So, I chose to speak the truth: “If you died, no one would protect me, so I can’t let you die.” He stared at me for a long time before suddenly laughing, releasing my chin: “Alright, you say what goes.” He unconsciously reached for a cigarette but caught himself, realizing I was recovering, pulling his hand back awkwardly. I pointed to the window: “You can smoke there; that spot won’t trigger the fire alarm and won’t choke me.” He ran to the window as if granted mercy, and I had never seen him look so eager. He lit the cigarette and took a deep breath: “I have a lot of friends who do drugs, but I never touch them. You know why?” I shook my head. “Just trying to quit smoking is harder than dying. Quitting drugs must be even harder, right? I know it’s not good, so I just stay away from it.” He smoked while watching me, his gaze lingering longer than before. “I started smoking at thirteen, and I still can’t quit. You can see how I am now; no one ever cares, as long as I don’t die. I could make the biggest fuss, and it wouldn’t draw a bit of their attention.” I stayed silent. I felt he didn’t need me to talk; he just wanted to express himself. “No one cares about me, and no one loves me. What do they say? Home is the last refuge? There’s no one in my home! It’s abandoned! Might as well tear it down!” He spoke and laughed, laughing wildly. And it felt so desolate. “I don’t have any true friends; they all want my money, being my sycophants, either fearing me or flattering me. “I’ll tell you, back in high school, I liked a girl a lot and spent a ton of money on her without even sleeping with her. She said she loved me. Looking back, it was a total loss. “Later, I spent all my savings, pocket money, and New Year’s money, saving up for a set of six-figure jewelry to give her because she said she loved me. I thought if you love me, anything is worth it. But when I ran out of money, I couldn’t take her out to eat. So, I wanted to tease her and said my family went bankrupt and that I was broke. “She left me on read for a week and then broke up with me. “I gave that jewelry to her deskmate in front of her. I didn’t even know her deskmate, and I’ve forgotten what she looked like; I just remember she was a plump girl. Her face looked terrible; she must have regretted it so much, and I still find it hilarious to think about. “For a long time after that, I wondered, you see, my family doesn’t love me for money, and people outside only love me for my money. What the hell is money?” He went on and on about how his parents neglected him and how people he met outside sought benefits from him, spilling out years of pent-up dissatisfaction. In that moment, thinking back to his earlier question about whether I had fallen for him, I suddenly realized.

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The year my sister went to college, she died in a hotel bed. They said she was promiscuous, that she died from her reckless behavior. But I knew that wasn’t true. Ethan Coleman’s childhood sweetheart got mad at him, so he pursued my sister on purpose. Ava Caldwell, in a jealous rage, had people bully my sister. “Ethan says she’s got a great body. As his friends, why don’t you check for yourselves?” Eight years later, I became Ethan’s favorite little pet. I don’t cry, I don’t make a fuss, I’m obedient and quiet. Then one day, Ava poured a cup of hot tea over my head, smirking as she said: “You’re just a knock-off. Ethan’s only playing with you.” “He loves me. You need to remember your place. Understand?” But the truth is, I never wanted his love. What I want is both of your lives. The day Ava returned from overseas, Ethan filled the whole city with pink balloons to celebrate her. And once again, people started mocking my relationship with him. “The leading lady is back! Isn’t it time for Daisy Greene, this knock-off, to roll out?” “Hah, that’s the fate of someone who’s just cannon fodder.” “She deserves it. She threw herself at him like a cheap piece of trash.” I sat on the couch, scrolling through the messages in the group chat before I turned off my phone. “Are you upset?” Ethan, sitting beside me, absentmindedly played with my hand as he spoke in his usual calm tone. I shook my head and leaned softly against his chest, my voice gentle. “They’re right. I know my place. But I can’t help feeling a little sad, you know? Still, the fact that you came to see me before meeting Miss Caldwell makes me not care about anything else.” He lifted his hand, brushing my cheek before pinching my chin like he was teasing a cat. “Good girl.” “I won’t be coming back tonight, but I’ll have that watch you liked sent to you.” He stood up, ready to leave. Just as he opened the door, I ran up and hugged him from behind, my eyes filled with tears. “I know you and Miss Caldwell have been childhood friends, and I’ll never compare to that.” “But, Ethan, please let me stay by your side.” “Don’t abandon me.” Warm tears soaked his shirt, spreading a damp patch over his shoulder. He paused for a moment, loosening his grip on the door handle before turning around. His large hand gently stroked my frail back. “Stop overthinking.” He tilted my chin up, forcing me to look into his eyes. I knew I was beautiful—especially with my red-rimmed eyes, so vulnerable and delicate. Sure enough, his gaze darkened. And just like that, I saw the lust in his eyes start to rise. Before I realized it, he had me pinned on the couch, his hands gripping my waist. His breath came quick with desire, and his actions were rough. When I cried out in pain, he silenced me with biting kisses. “Daisy Greene, as long as you behave, I’ll come see you tomorrow.” I rested my head on his shoulder, my voice raspy and barely coherent. “Okay… Just don’t lie to me.” I carefully dressed him, making sure he looked perfect before sending him off. A purple Rolls-Royce was already waiting outside the Coleman Mansion. The driver respectfully opened the door for him. With a roar, the car disappeared into the night. It was getting late. If he didn’t hurry, he’d miss Ava’s welcome-home party. She was the pampered daughter of the Caldwell family, and if Ethan showed up late, she’d be furious. Tears welled up as I walked back into the mansion, swallowing the pills Aunt Mary handed me in front of her watchful eyes. I climbed the stairs with my swollen eyes, locked the door behind me, and rushed into the bathroom. I collapsed in front of the toilet, vomiting until I thought I’d die. Disgusting. Every second with Ethan disgusted me. Every touch of his was like a needle, pricking my already tattered dignity, reeking of fake luxury and rot. Just thinking about it made me want to throw up again. But I had to fight for his attention—kiss him, please him, and act like I adored him. He needed to believe that I was completely dependent on him, that I loved him with all my heart, and that without him, I’d wilt like a delicate flower. Then, when he was most relaxed, enjoying his empire built on manipulation and control, I would strike the fatal blow. Ethan Coleman, I will make you fall from grace, lose everything. You will crawl in the dirt and drown in your own hatred. By the time I was done vomiting, there was nothing left but stomach acid, burning my throat. I slid down the cold bathroom floor, leaning against the wall. The bright light above blurred into the tears in my eyes, distorting my vision. My head knocked against the wall as I started to sob. “I tried, sis… I really did. But there’s no other way.” “I’m so hungry… I miss your chicken broth soup, Joanne.”

My childhood wasn’t a happy one. From as far back as I can remember, my dad was a gambling, drunk, abusive piece of trash. When I was ten, he lost a huge sum of money. That night, he came home reeking of alcohol and barged through the door. My mom, trembling, pulled me into her arms. The next second, he yanked her by the hair, slamming her down on the concrete floor. He punched her face over and over. When he got tired, he kicked her. Afterwards, he took the last bit of money we had and wasted it all at the Riverboat Casino. My mom left in a red car that night. She never came back. Later, my dad would bring different women home and lock me out of the house. One night, I sat outside the door all night long. The next morning, no one even bothered to open the door when I had to go to school. I had no money and no friends. I survived by drinking water from the school bathroom sink. By the time school was out, I was so hungry I could barely see straight. A girl bumped into me as she ran by, and I nearly fainted. She caught me just in time, asking if I was okay. I was too hungry to lie, so I told her the truth. She smiled kindly, took my hand, and brought me to her house. I ate five bowls of chicken broth soup. And for some reason, I started crying. First silent tears, then I broke down, sobbing uncontrollably. She fumbled around, trying to wipe my tears, thinking the soup was terrible. But I shook my head vigorously in her arms. “No one’s ever been this nice to me.” She smiled and ran her warm hand over my head. She didn’t care about my dry, matted hair, and said: “From now on, think of me as your sister. I’ll take care of you.” She really was an incredible person. That was the first time I met my sister, Joanne. Her name was as pure and beautiful as she was. Not like mine. My dad named me Daisy after a winning hand in a poker game. My mom thought it was after the flower. But Joanne said that my name was special. She told me, “Daisy, like the flower that never withers. It’s a sign of resilience.” That’s when I realized that even the simplest things, in the hands of someone who cared, could become poetic.

That night, I dreamt of my sister again. I dreamt about the time she worked extra hard to make my birthday special. It was scorching hot that summer, the pavement practically steaming under the sun. She wore a bulky mascot costume, handing out brochures to passersby. It gave her heat rash, but she told me it was just a dust allergy. Seventy dollars a day, and she did it for two months. Then, on my 14th birthday, she gave me 14 gifts. A newspaper from the day I was born, crayons from when I was two, a hairclip from when I was three… a Barbie from when I was seven… a bike from when I was ten, a keyboard from when I was eleven… and finally, a keychain with a key for my 14th birthday. I’d never had a birthday party before, and that day, I got to celebrate 14 birthdays all at once. Joanne’s mom even made a full table of food, with a two-tier cake in the middle. The warmth in the air wrapped around me, and I started crying again, overwhelmed by love. “Thank you, sis. Thank you, Mom.” Joanne’s mom, usually smiling, suddenly looked stern. “Why call her your sister and me by my name?” “Mom.” “Good girl, now blow out the candles and make a wish.” I closed my eyes, feeling the happiest I’d ever been. I made my wish with all my heart. I wasn’t a neglected child anymore. I had a family. But the joy in my dream soon twisted and warped. My sister was brought home on a stretcher, motionless. Her body was cold, covered in bruises, and she was already gone. They said, “Joanne had a wild lifestyle. She died from playing too hard with too many men. Her friends confessed.” Lies. All lies. They said they’d offer me compensation, out of “humanitarian concern.” But I couldn’t hear anything. My ears were filled with the buzzing of a thousand angry bees as I stared at my sister’s lifeless body. The sun mixed with the bloodstains on her skin, creating a grotesque blend of light and dark. “Sis…” Joanne didn’t die from playing around with men. She was in college, working hard to support herself. How could she have been involved with men, let alone with multiple men at the same time? It all started with Ethan’s childhood friend, Ava Caldwell. She was mad at him for some petty argument, and to make her jealous, Ethan had deliberately gone after my sister. He brought her flowers, gifts, breakfast. He showered her with compliments and sweet words. Joanne, never having experienced such attention, fell for it. She thought she had finally found true love. But Ava couldn’t take it. After she made up with Ethan, she ordered her friends to bully my sister. “If Ethan says she’s got a great body, why don’t you guys check it out for yourselves?” From the beginning to the bitter end, it was all handled by a lawyer. He had the look of a stiff academic, his glasses betraying his sharp, calculating eyes. He spoke with precision, like a surgeon, and acted with cold efficiency. We had no chance against the power and influence they wielded. Ethan and Ava never even showed their faces. After reconciling, they went on a romantic trip to see the Northern Lights in Iceland. How romantic. How absurd. Months later, I finally learned their names. Two rich kids—Ava Caldwell and Ethan Coleman. I had another dream—my mom’s hair turning white overnight. Empty pill bottles lay by the bedside as she slept in silence, forever. She had gone to join Joanne. My birthday wish had never come true, and I vowed never to celebrate another birthday.

I didn’t think I’d be facing Ava again so soon. But with her entitled attitude, there was no way she would let things slide. She had only been gone for three years, but in that time, Ethan had found someone new—me. So the very next day, Ava invited us to a high-end boutique to try on clothes. Of course, Ethan brought me along. The fitting room was enormous, luxurious, and completely private. Ava sat at the center of it all, wearing a sleek black designer outfit, sipping tea like the queen bee. Her entourage buzzed around her. She glanced up at me, her disdain obvious, and suddenly smirked. “Ethan, so this is the little pet you’ve been keeping, huh?” “She does look a bit like me, I guess.” Her friends chimed in with laughter. “No matter how much she imitates you, she’ll never come close to even a finger of yours.” My hand clenched at my side. I lowered my head and suddenly realized. Ethan had brought me here to let Ava take out her frustrations on me. With his passive approval, everyone around me treated me like trash, eagerly assisting Ava in her cruel game. “Well, since you’re here, why don’t you try on some clothes?” Ethan, sitting beside Ava, spoke casually. “Go ahead, try them all on until Ava is satisfied.” I spent the entire afternoon walking in circles, changing into outfit after outfit, while wearing a pair of towering high heels. “Just standing there doesn’t help. Walk around so we can see how the clothes look.” “Exactly! And strike a few poses! Are you really that stupid?” They sat on the couches, sipping their fancy tea, directing me like I was a mannequin. The heels dug into my feet, blistering my heels until they bled and stuck to the insides of the shoes. Sweat beaded on my forehead, and it felt like my legs were no longer mine to control. Finally, Ava seemed to be satisfied, her anger fading. “These beautiful clothes are wasted on someone like you.” “I don’t want any of the pieces she’s worn. Pack up the rest.” She leaned against Ethan’s chest, playfully poking him in the chest like a spoiled child. The normally cold and indifferent man smiled indulgently, letting her have her way. “Go clean yourself up and remember your place.” I clutched the neckline of my slipping dress and bowed before quickly heading out. I stumbled, falling to the floor. My eyes instinctively sought out Ethan, and tears fell without warning. I looked as pitiful as possible. Ethan’s gaze drifted toward me, his Adam’s apple bobbing slightly. I noticed. And so did Ava. With a sweet, mocking smile, Ava sauntered over to me. “You’re crying over trying on a few clothes? I didn’t know you were such an actress.” The next second, I felt a burning pain on my scalp. Ava had poured the entire cup of hot tea over my head. She casually placed the cup down and pouted at Ethan. “Ethan, you know how much I hate manipulative girls. I just couldn’t resist teaching her a lesson.” “Don’t be mad, okay?” Ethan stood up and wrapped his arm around her waist, his eyes full of affection. “As long as it makes you happy.” The group of them laughed as they left, not giving me a second glance. Leaving me all alone.

That night, for once, Ethan didn’t stay with Ava. Instead, he came to me. I heard the sound of the gate outside and lay on the couch pretending to sleep. Ethan walked in, scooping me up in his arms. I “woke up” at just the right moment, my voice hoarse from pretending to cry. “I’m sorry… I’m so useless. I know you love Miss Caldwell the most, but I couldn’t even handle something as simple as trying on clothes for her.” “If Miss Caldwell is still mad, I can move out…” Before I could finish, everything spun. He had thrown me onto the bed, grabbing my wrist as he leaned over me. “You want to leave?” I lowered my lashes, biting my lip, my eyes reddening involuntarily. After a long moment, I finally whispered, “Yes.” Ethan chuckled, his anger simmering just beneath the surface, and grabbed my chin roughly. “Daisy Greene, you’ve grown bold.” “In this world, no one tells Ethan Coleman what to do.” “Remember, if I don’t let you go, you’re not leaving.” A flood of thoughts rushed through my mind in that instant. Tears streamed down my face. Ethan gently brushed my hair aside, blowing softly on the burned spot from Ava’s tea. For the first time, his usual detached demeanor softened. It was the first time I’d ever seen him like this—so gentle.

The burn on my scalp continued to throb with a dull pain, making it hard for me to sleep. In my dreams, I was taken back to a time long ago. It was when I was thirteen, and my dad suddenly started acting nice to me. For the first time in forever, he invited me to sit at the dinner table and even put a few pieces of meat in my bowl. “Daisy, how about you ask Joanne’s mom to become your new mother?” I choked on my food, almost suffocating in shock. So that was it. He had his eye on Joanne’s mom, Sarah Greene. He knew how well they treated me, so he wanted me to play matchmaker for him. When I refused, he kicked me away from the table, taking the meat from my bowl and eating it himself. I thought he was just running his mouth. The next day, though, he went to Sarah’s stand at the farmers market and loudly declared his love for her. Of course, Sarah didn’t accept. My dad, humiliated, got furious. He started spreading rumors, saying Sarah was cursed, that she was responsible for her husband’s death. The gossip spread from the market to every street corner in town. “Why would you say such things about Sarah? Now she’s too ashamed to run her stand,” I yelled at him. He smirked, slurring his words, “Who does she think she is, turning me down? I didn’t even care that she’s a widow.” I couldn’t hold back anymore. I screamed at him. “You’re despicable!” He stood up and beat me, again and again. When he was done, he kicked me and demanded food. I got up, made him a bowl of noodles, and dumped five tablespoons of salt into it. He ate the whole thing, complimenting me on how much my cooking had improved. The booze had clearly wrecked his taste buds. For a while after that, Joanne kept coming to check on me. I avoided her, ashamed, but she cornered me after school one day. “Are you trying to break up with me?” she asked, frowning. I froze. Then, as if suddenly realizing the absurdity of it all, she pinched my cheeks and said, “Daisy, you’re my sister. Why would I break up with you?” I had put on a bit of weight from all the meals at their house, and she pinched my face a little more. “You’re you, and you don’t need to carry anyone else’s guilt.” I hugged her tight, crying until I noticed the wounds on her hands. She said she’d hurt herself while making homemade cheese, but it didn’t hurt anymore. I held her hand, feeling a pang of sorrow. She brought me back to their house. Sarah was in the kitchen, her smile warm as always when she saw me. “Dinner’s almost ready. You two, go wash your hands.” That evening, the sunset painted the sky in a fiery orange, and the warmth in the dining room felt so comforting. Not long after that, my dad, drunk as usual, fell into the river and drowned. That left me alone. He had been such a notorious scumbag that the rest of the family had cut ties with us long ago. Sarah was the one who arranged his funeral. Once it was all over, Joanne and Sarah held my hands and gave me a real home. I had my own room, fresh sheets, and a brand-new desk. For the first time, I thought this might last forever.

Ava started taking over her family’s company. She used the excuse that she was still unfamiliar with the local market after being abroad for so long. So, Ethan sent me to work as her assistant. That’s when she began her campaign against me, making sure to humiliate and isolate me. Her methods were childish and petty, but relentless. Every time I needed to use the printer, it was out of paper or ink. In the break room, someone would “accidentally” spill coffee on me. My computer would mysteriously get viruses, and completed presentations had to be redone. Ethan’s response? “Just keep trying.” I told him I would, then hung up, not wanting to bother him while he was out with Ava. But then she went too far. During a business dinner with some clients from Hong Kong, Ava called my co-worker away, leaving me alone. The clients poured me drink after drink until I was barely conscious. One of their hands started creeping up my leg. I fought back with everything I had, but they beat me half to death. A waiter heard the commotion and called the police. I woke up two days later in a hospital room, the sharp smell of disinfectant in the air. During that time, someone had posted a video of me being carried into the ambulance online. The person who posted it claimed that Ava had deliberately left me there. The video went viral in no time. Ava’s family was competing with a rival company for a big project, and this scandal hit them hard. When I finally woke up, I heard Ethan and Ava arguing in the hallway outside my room. “Ava, you went too far this time,” Ethan’s voice was cold, harsher than I’d ever heard. “I’ve let you do whatever you wanted since we were kids, but this could’ve killed her.” Ava’s voice cracked with tears. “You feel sorry for her now?” “She’s just a fake, a knock-off. If she’s gone, she’s gone. It’s not like this is the first time someone’s died.” Ethan’s tone grew even icier. “You can’t keep doing whatever you want. You need to rein in that temper.” Ava was stunned by his words. “Ethan, are you saying you’re tired of me now? What did I do wrong? Before I left the country, you said you’d wait for me.” Tears fell from her eyes as she spoke. “I was only gone for three years, and you’ve already replaced me with someone beneath us. I can’t stand her.” “The things people have been saying about me these last two days, I know you’ve seen it.” “Are you telling me you’d rather see me lying in that hospital bed?” Her face, usually so bold and beautiful, was now tear-streaked and fragile, full of vulnerability and sadness. And Ethan, who had known her since childhood, was affected. After a moment of silence, he sighed and pulled her into his arms. “All these years, I’ve only ever loved you.”

I watched them through the crack in the door as they kissed. Then I turned my head away, expressionless. I’d known for a long time that Ava wouldn’t be easy to defeat. She and Ethan had over two decades of history together, a bond so close it was almost symbiotic. But that bond wasn’t unbreakable. Now, I had planted a seed in both of them—my pain, my suffering. One day, that seed would grow into an explosion, and when it did, nothing would ever be the same. When I woke up the next day, the public opinion had shifted again. A new video had surfaced. This time, it was a statement from my co-worker and the waiter. The story they told? That I had lured my colleague away and then tried to seduce the client myself. When the client rejected me, I insulted him, which led to me getting beaten. The internet blew up with hate. Everyone was condemning me. When Ethan visited me that day, he didn’t say a word about it. I acted like nothing was wrong, chatting with him like usual. Sometimes, I’d tug on his sleeve and make small, harmless requests, doing everything I could to keep things normal. Then, the next day, a woman barged into the hospital room with a group of people—clients’ wife. They slapped and hit me while yelling accusations. Ethan arrived, only to find me huddled in the corner of the bed, curled up into a small ball.

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After my brother, Ethan, found out that I was a fake heiress, I tied his hands to the chair and forced his jaw open, pouring poison down his throat. I smirked softly. “Soon, the pain will go away, Ethan…” The chat exploded: “Oh my God, when will this vile woman finally get off the screen? Someone save my poor boy, I can’t take this heartbreak anymore!” I was bound to the Knife System, where only by tormenting the readers until their hearts ache could I replenish my health bar. At this moment, I was secretly laying another trap, waiting for the readers to piece together the blade, to harvest a massive wave of health points… After Ethan discovered that I wasn’t the real daughter of the Snow family, I bound his hands and forced him into the chair, prying his mouth open to pour in the poison. Tears welled up at the corners of his eyes, slipping down his pale cheeks. He struggled to speak, “Sis… Sister…” I stared coldly as his porcelain-like skin began to fester and decay. In front of me, in the void, the chat went wild: “Ahhh, I can’t take it anymore! How can my poor, sweet Ethan still call her sister when she’s literally poisoning him? Someone send this wicked woman straight to the pits of hell!” “When will this vile woman leave? Please, someone save my poor boy! My heart can’t take this anymore!” Without another glance, I turned away, leaving Ethan writhing in agony. His body convulsed, but he barely had the strength to make a sound. I smirked again. “Soon, you won’t feel anything, Ethan…” I turned, cold and detached, and walked away. Just as I reached the door, I made sure to let the readers see that I wasn’t as calm as I appeared. My fingers trembled as they fumbled to unlock the door. “Oh, now she’s panicking, huh? If you’re so scared, why don’t you call an ambulance for my boy? Maybe then you can at least die a little more peacefully!” I was pleased: excellent, the first piece of the knife was set. Soon, all these small blades would form a deadly sword, and I’d harvest a huge amount of health points. I was bound to the Knife System—only by making the readers’ hearts ache could I replenish my health bar. Sitting in my car, I pulled out a file, making sure to let just a corner of it show, enough for the readers to catch sight of it. “What is that wicked woman holding? Did I just see Ethan’s name on it? And… is that a DNA test?” “Wait, what? Shouldn’t her name be on it? Isn’t she supposed to be Grace Snow?” I smirked inwardly. Time for the second piece of the knife. I slammed on the gas, and the car sped away. Behind me, flames engulfed the beach house… As the chat went wild with speculation, the system chimed: “Ding, you’ve collected 30% of your health points.”

Three years later. It was late at night, and I was in my lab, working on a new poison that had come to me in a sudden burst of inspiration. The Snow family was well-known in the medical field in the United States, but I had a preference for crafting ancient poisons. Things like the Laughing Death Poison, One-Day-Kill Powder, and the infamous Five-Poison Dust—I knew them all. Suddenly, my phone rang. “Hello, is this Grace? Daniel had too much to drink, and you’re listed as his emergency contact. Could you come pick him up?” I sighed, setting down the glass vial. “Alright, where are you?” Ten minutes later, I was standing outside the private club lounge. As soon as I walked in, Daniel, thoroughly drunk, waved at me excitedly. “Grace! You’re here! Come, I’ve got someone I want you to meet. He’s the eldest son of the Song family—just back from overseas!” I smiled as I turned to greet this new acquaintance. But when my eyes met those familiar, cold eyes, my purse slipped from my hand and hit the floor with a thud. “I’m sorry,” I quickly knelt down, using the moment to cover my panic. It was him… Even though his face had changed, I recognized him instantly. The one person I thought I’d never see again—my brother. The one whose picture had been on a gravestone for the past three years. Everyone believed he had died in a tragic accident… my brother, Ethan. “Grace, you’re always so clumsy.” Daniel staggered over to help me pick up the lipstick that had rolled out of my purse. As he stood up, he almost lost his balance. I quickly steadied him, but at that moment, I heard a low chuckle from behind me. I couldn’t help but turn, briefly locking eyes with that same cold gaze. In the past… Those eyes had been like a clear mountain stream, so pure, so gentle. He always used to call out to me with that dependent tone: “Sister! Sister!” “Sis, you’re back! I missed you so much!” I looked down, hiding the tears welling up in my eyes from the readers’ view, my lips moving in silence. The chat exploded with comments: “Ha! Grace must be shaking in her boots! My boy has come back, and her days are numbered. I can’t wait to see how he’s going to make her pay!” “Oh my God, I can read lips! Did she just say ‘Ethan, I missed you too’?! What the hell?!

After a brief introduction, the others left, until only Daniel—who passed out three minutes later—and Ryan remained. I pretended not to recognize Ryan as I grabbed Daniel by the arm and tried to drag him out of the lounge. But suddenly, Ryan grabbed my wrist, throwing me onto the couch with a force that knocked the breath out of me. Meanwhile, Daniel crashed to the floor, completely undisturbed in his drunken slumber. I gasped in shock. “Ryan, what are you doing?!” Ryan sneered, gripping my face tightly. “Grace, my dearest sister, do you really not recognize me? I’m Ethan, the brother you poisoned.” “Surprised? I didn’t die. My face didn’t rot away. And now, I’m the esteemed Ryan Song of the Song family!” He leaned in closer, his grip tightening. “Now, your precious Snow family is nothing more than a dog groveling at my feet. If I’m feeling generous, I might toss them a bone. If not…” His hand squeezed harder. “I’ll destroy them.” Tears welled up in my eyes from the pain. I could see the hatred burning behind his calm expression. Struggling to speak, I whispered, “Please… for old times’ sake… spare the Snow family…” Ryan laughed coldly. “Didn’t you poison me because you didn’t want our parents to find out you weren’t their real daughter? You were afraid of losing your place.” “Well, let’s see what happens when they get to make the choice themselves—will they choose wealth and status, or you?” He stood up, pulling out a wet wipe to clean his hands before tossing it onto me. As he reached the door, he turned and shot me a cruel smile. “Enjoy your last peaceful night.” By the next morning, my parents had handed me over to Ryan without a second thought. With forced smiles, they left me with one last remark: “Grace was out of line for offending you, Ryan. Whatever punishment you deem fit, go ahead!” A maid’s uniform was tossed at me. Ryan grinned darkly. “Put this on. From now on, you’re my maid.” When I emerged, humiliated, in the maid uniform, Ryan’s eyes lingered on me before he ordered, “Clean every inch of this house until there’s not a speck of dust.” I obediently grabbed a cloth and bucket, getting down on my knees to scrub the floor. Two hours later. A pair of slippers appeared in front of me, and Ryan kicked me in the side, grumbling, “Why are you so slow?” The bucket tipped over, spilling dirty water all over me. “Disgusting,” Ryan said, his voice full of disdain. “Now, I’m starving. Make me a steak, roasted duck, an egg tart, and… oh, throw in some spicy noodles.” He rattled off a long list of dishes. I nodded, without a hint of complaint. “Got it.” Just then, the system switched to a first-person perspective, capturing my thoughts: “I’m sorry, Ethan. If doing all this can ease even a fraction of your anger, I’ll gladly do it. I only hope the poison will leave your system soon…” In return, the readers unleashed a torrent of insults: “Ugh, now she regrets it? Too little, too late! The only way to make up for it is to die!” “She’s talking about curing his poison—does she even have the antidote?” “But Ethan’s fine now! The doctors said so. Why is she still pretending? Where’s my sweet, soft-hearted heroine? I’m sick of looking at this woman!” Ryan, watching me soak in dirty water, seemed irritated and walked off. 4 After spending three hours in the kitchen, I prepared a banquet that mixed Western and Eastern dishes. I knocked on the door to let Ryan know. The door opened, and a stunning woman appeared, her eyes challenging as she smiled at me. “Ryan’s in the shower. You can wait, little maid.” I lowered my eyes and nodded. “Alright.” I headed downstairs, where I waited for Ryan to emerge, wrapped in a bathrobe, his arm around the woman’s waist as they came to the table. Suddenly, Ryan slammed his chopsticks down and glared at me. “What are you standing there for? Get over here and serve us. Peel the shrimp, and make sure there are no bones in the fish. If Monica gets hurt, it’s your head.” Monica feigned concern. “Oh, Ryan, why are you being so harsh? Grace must be hungry too. Shouldn’t we invite her to eat with us?” Ryan sneered. “The dog and the maid don’t get to sit at the table. They can eat our leftovers.” Without a word, I walked over and began peeling the shrimp, silently enduring the humiliation. After dinner, Ryan scraped the leftovers into two bowls. One, he set down for his dog, and the other, he placed beside the dog’s bed. He called out to me, “From now on, this is where you’ll eat.” A single tear slipped down my face, but when I looked up, my expression was empty. “Understood.” Ryan lost interest immediately, scoffing. “Just like I thought, no feelings at all—just a stone.” Then, he wrapped his arm around Monica and headed for the door. “Didn’t you say there’s a new handbag you want? Let’s go get it.” “You’re the best, Ryan!” Monica squealed, planting a kiss on his cheek. I looked away in discomfort, but I made sure Ryan caught the flicker of pain in my expression. Seeing that I was hurt, Ryan’s face lit up with twisted satisfaction. He lifted Monica into his arms, heading out the door, but not before tossing one last line over his shoulder: “I’m not coming back tonight.” I couldn’t help but chuckle bitterly. Who even wants you back? The days blurred together after that. Mopping floors, spilling dirty water, cooking meals, and watching Ryan and Monica’s public displays of affection were the repetitive cycle of my new life. It was dull, predictable. “These small tricks aren’t even enough to satisfy me.” Still, some readers began to feel sympathy for me, and my health bar rose by 10%. Until one day. I received a message from Daniel. A smile tugged at my lips, excitement gleaming in my eyes: Finally, the real show is about to begin…

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After Grandma Betty secretly sold me to Ray, the trafficker, Mom lost her mind. Dad, until the day he died, never forgave my brother Michael for not taking better care of me. Michael spent ten years searching for me, traveling across the country. When he finally lost hope, he slit his wrists and ended his life… Meanwhile, Grandma Betty and Uncle Matt took over our home and all our family’s possessions. I once thought about setting the house on fire and burning them alive, but then, something unexpected happened—I was reborn. I vividly remember that after she pocketed the money, Grandma told Ray, “Take the girl, but leave my grandson out of it.” … If I hadn’t been kidnapped, I would have been the beloved princess of the family. Dad, Mom, and Michael would have doted on me like I was the center of their world. But instead, I was sold off to the Appalachian Mountains, where I became dull and mentally impaired after suffering from a high fever for too long. The family that bought me realized I was no longer of any use to them, just an extra mouth to feed. So, they sold me off again. I was passed from one family to another until no one wanted to buy me anymore. In the end, they said I might be brainless, but my kidneys were still good, and so was my heart. So, I was trafficked for my organs and died. Only in death was I able to return home. That’s when I learned that Dad and Mom couldn’t bear the grief of losing me. They both passed away, leaving Michael all alone. But Michael never gave up on me. For years, he carried my photo from place to place, asking everyone he met if they had seen the girl in the picture. “She’s my little sister,” he would say, “She’s beautiful and sweet.” He wore his shoes down to the soles and wouldn’t even spend money on instant noodles, surviving on just a cup of water and a bread roll every day. At night, he clutched my picture and cried. When he finally heard the news of my death, his emaciated body could take no more. “Dad! Mom! Sis, wait for me—I’m coming to find you!!” As the blade sliced across his wrist… “Michael!” I tried to reach out and save him, but my hand passed through his body. My heart filled with agony. What was I supposed to do? Was I really going to have to watch my family die one by one because of me? Just then, a bright light flooded through the window. When I opened my eyes again, I was lying in the back of a smelly truck, the stench of cigarettes burning my nose. I locked my gaze on the man in the black leather jacket. It was him! That damned trafficker—Ray. He pulled a few crumpled bills from his pocket, handing them to the woman across from him. “Here you go, count it, 500 bucks. Heard you’ve got two boys too. How about I pay you triple for them?” So it was for a mere $500 that my family was destroyed. Through the cigarette smoke, I saw Grandma Betty’s familiar, kind face. She smiled as she stuffed the money into her pocket. “Don’t even think about it. I’m not selling my grandson.” A chill ran through me. Tears welled up in my eyes. Why? Why would Grandma do this? Why would she sell me? Ray voiced the question gnawing at my heart. “Aren’t you afraid your son’s going to find out you sold his daughter?” “Who’s going to tell him? You? Me? No one will ever know,” Grandma muttered in her thick country accent. “And what’s wrong with selling a granddaughter? Girls are raised for someone else anyway. If I don’t sell her now, I’ll have to eventually.” She continued, “Michael’s already in jail, and I asked him for $1,000 for bail. He refused. If he won’t help his own brother, why should I coddle some useless little girl? Selling her was his fault for being so stubborn.” Ray laughed heartily. “Well, next time you’ve got more, you know where to find me.” Grandma added, “With this money, I can finally get my oldest son out of jail!” Then, as if it wasn’t enough, she urged, “Make sure you sell my granddaughter far away, somewhere she can’t run back. Fewer mouths to feed, and maybe my youngest son will send me more support money.” Because of that one sentence, in my previous life, I was sold off to the deep, hidden corners of the Midwest, never to see the light of day again—until I died. But this time, I’m going to make them all pay. The sedatives hadn’t completely worn off, but I mentally marked every stop along the way, waiting for the perfect moment to escape. Besides me, there was another boy in the truck, a delicate little kid who was sound asleep—another one of Ray’s victims, no doubt. The truck stopped on a small road near Central Train Station. A woman in a hat leaned against the window and whispered, “Vince, did you bring any boys this time?” Vince looked around cautiously before nodding. “Yeah, one boy. $1,200.” “Deal.” The woman handed him the cash, excitement in her eyes as she turned and revealed a basket on her back. “Put the boy in here.” “Mama, don’t leave me behind! Take me and my brother with you!” I cried, grabbing the woman’s sleeve. I knew this was my chance. “What do I need a girl for?” She turned her head, but I caught a flicker of sympathy in her eyes. The boy woke up just then and, without missing a beat, joined in, crying out for his sister. Vince took the opportunity to pitch me to the woman. “Buy her too! She’ll be company for the boy. Girls are cheap, and she can do housework. I’m giving you a deal here, Martha—$700, take her.” The woman hesitated, but in the end, I was sold again, this time for a $200 difference. Martha covered the basket with a cloth, leaving us unseen and unwatched. She was too distracted and left us on the roadside while she went to the restroom. “You stay here and don’t move. There are traffickers everywhere around here,” she warned. Once her footsteps faded, I gently woke the boy. “Do you want to go home?” I whispered. The little guy nodded, wide-eyed but silent. “Then follow me, and don’t cry. I’ll get us out of here. But if you make a sound, I’ll leave you behind.” I put on my toughest face, and we crawled out of the basket, sprinting into the crowd. I didn’t go to the police. I couldn’t trust anyone in this town—they could be working with the traffickers. I couldn’t take that risk. At the bus station, I scraped together the last dollar in my pocket and bought two tickets. Back then, you didn’t need an ID to ride a bus. The ticket clerk looked at us suspiciously, wondering why we didn’t have any adults with us. I squeezed Tommy’s hand tight and gave her my sweetest smile. “Ma’am, we’re going to the county to meet our mom. She’s waiting for us at the station.” Once we got to town, we didn’t have enough money to buy train tickets to the city. But we had to get to the city. So, I smudged dirt on my face and started begging. Tommy’s stomach growled loudly. He was hungry, but he never asked for food, just stared longingly. I was starving too, but I forced myself to endure it. “We’re almost home.” When we couldn’t take it anymore, we dug through trash cans for scraps. After gathering enough for the tickets, I slipped behind a woman and pretended to be her child to get on the train. But just as we stepped onto the platform, the train doors still open, I heard a commotion behind us. Martha, that vile woman, pointed right at us, screaming, “That’s my boy! He’s gone! My boy’s missing!” She rushed toward us, trying to drag us off the train. Others jumped in, trying to push us toward her. “Kids shouldn’t be wandering around. Go home with your mom.” My heart pounded. Were we really not going to make it? Images of Michael slashing his wrists with our family portrait in his arms flashed through my mind. I fought back with everything I had, biting the woman’s hand and clinging to the seat. “You’re lying! You’re not my mom! Help! She’s a trafficker!” Martha let out a scream and slapped me hard across the face, the sound echoing through the train car. Her accomplice kicked me in the side. “How dare you bite your own mother?” I curled up in pain, but no one around us seemed to care. They just watched indifferently. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a girl stand up to help, but her mother yanked her back, whispering, “Stay out of it. It’s their family business.” My head spun, and Martha yanked my hair. “What do we do with her?” her accomplice asked. Suddenly, a small body threw itself over me. Tommy, barely able to speak, cried out, “No! You can’t take my sister!” Martha’s face softened instantly as she scooped him up. “Come on, my precious boy. Let’s go home.” The taste of blood filled my mouth, jolting my senses awake. I gathered all my strength and shouted, “You don’t even know our names! My mom loves me—she’d never hit me like that! You’re lying!” All eyes turned toward us. A few passengers stood up and blocked the exit. “Could she really be a trafficker?” one of them muttered. Martha’s eyes darted around nervously, and she backed up a few steps, stammering, “The girl’s from my husband’s first marriage. She’s always been slow in the head and runs away a lot.” In those days, it wasn’t uncommon for stepmothers to mistreat their stepchildren. Her explanation seemed to satisfy most of the onlookers. Just when I thought no one else would help, a voice rang out. “Ma’am, if that’s your son, why didn’t you notice he’s having an asthma attack?” “I’m a doctor.” A man in a suit stepped forward, his voice steady and firm. “You’re suffocating him. I doubt you’re really their mother.” 　Sure enough, when Tommy was pulled out of the woman’s arms, his face was flushed red, his chest heaving, and his mouth slightly open, clearly struggling to breathe. Martha and her accomplice tried to make a scene, but the conductor quickly had them thrown off the train. We were saved. Once the train finally started moving again, I let out a shaky breath. “Don’t worry,” the man said as he opened his medical kit and began treating Tommy. “He’ll be fine.” A kind conductor moved me to an empty seat and asked if I was hurt. I shook my head. The bruises and bite marks on me weren’t just from defending myself—they were a symbol of my fight for survival, my fight to take control of my fate. “Do you know where your home is, sweetheart?” he asked gently. “I do,” I nodded. How could I not know? It’s the place I thought about every single day. Even in my last life, when my mind was no longer clear, even in death, I remembered home. But back then, it was too late. By the time I returned, Mom and Dad were gone, and I had to watch Michael die, powerless to stop it. Thank God, this time, I could finally return home. I turned my head to gaze out the window, and the tears I had held back finally fell. Mom, Dad… please, please be there when I get back. The man, Dr. Andrew, was a medical student who had just returned from studying abroad. He had stumbled into this crazy situation on his way home. When I asked why he had believed me, he simply smiled. “If I was wrong, I would’ve apologized.” “But if I was right,” he continued, “I would have saved not just you, but your whole future and your family’s as well. I became a doctor to help people, and this is just another way to do that.” “Thank you…” I murmured. When the train pulled into the station, Dr. Andrew stepped off with us. He was surprised to learn that we were both from Atlanta. I shook my head. “My home isn’t here, and I don’t know where this little boy’s home is either.” “Well, where are you headed? I can take you,” he offered. I hesitated, my feet slowing. I knew better than to trust anyone at this point. But Dr. Andrew seemed to sense my reluctance. He gently patted my head and pulled out his student ID from his bag. “Look, don’t worry. I’m just trying to help. I’d hate to see you two get lost again, because next time, I might not be around to help.” Dr. Andrew was in a rush, but he made sure we got to our destination safely. Before he left, he handed me a few chocolate bars with a warm smile. “Take care, little one. Stay safe.” As I looked up at his kind face, a mix of emotions swirled inside me. The world was broken in so many ways, but there were still people like him, stitching it back together. We made it to the police station in one piece. Since I could clearly provide my family’s address, they were able to register me right away. But Tommy was different. It seemed like he hadn’t even learned to speak properly yet. The only word he had managed to say was “sister.” Other than that, he was silent, his little head bowed as he gnawed on his fingers. Officer Kate, the kind policewoman handling our case, sighed deeply. “We’ve already figured out the details on the older one, but this little guy… what are we supposed to do with him?” Tommy’s big, watery eyes looked up at me as his small hand gripped the hem of my shirt tightly. “Sister?” Logic told me that I should focus on getting home, but the sight of Tommy’s worried little face tugged at my heart. I sighed and turned to Officer Kate. “Ma’am, could you please just take both of us home? If anyone finds out who he is, they can come to my house.” What was a little more time, anyway? We had come this far together. To help prevent more children from suffering at the hands of traffickers, I gave Officer Kate a detailed description of Ray and Martha. She looked at me in amazement. “You remember all of that so clearly?” “Because if I hadn’t,” I said quietly, clenching my fists, “I might never have seen my parents again.” Tommy and I headed back to my house together. Standing in front of the front door, still decorated with the worn-out family blessing sign, I suddenly felt a wave of hesitation. If I counted my past life, it had been twenty years since I had seen Mom and Dad. Summoning all my courage, I reached for the doorknob, but it didn’t budge. The door was locked, dust gathered on the frame. A neighbor soon explained that Mom, Dad, and Michael were likely out searching for me. According to Michael, Mom would stand on the street, holding my photo, asking every passerby she saw. Even when she lost her mind, she would still grab strangers and plead, “Have you seen my daughter? She has a round face, big eyes, she’s about this tall, and she’s really cute.” Dad had neglected his business, which had finally started to do well. His hair was turning white, falling out in clumps. He slept at the train station, terrified that I might come back one day and he wouldn’t be there. In the fourth year after I went missing, Mom couldn’t bear the pain any longer and passed away. By the following March, Dad lay on his deathbed, turning away from Michael, unable to look at him. His final words were, “You have to find your sister. Bring her home…” The night had fallen, but I couldn’t wait until morning. I didn’t stop for a second, making my way back to our old home in Greenridge Village. Years later, I often thanked my lucky stars that I made it back in time. The village roads were muddy, and by three or four in the morning, all the lights were out—except for one house. As I stepped off the bus, I heard the voice that still filled me with rage. “Matt, your brother says he found a lead that can bring Kaley home. It’ll cost $20,000, but in three days, we can have her back!” Dad sounded desperate. “Mom, I swear I’m not lying. If I had $20,000, I’d give it to you right now!” In those days, having that kind of money was a rarity. Where could he possibly get it? “Just sell the factory if you have to. Ask the neighbors for loans. You can gather the money somehow, can’t you?” Uncle Matt chimed in, pretending to be worried. “The longer Kaley stays missing, the more I worry. I’ve heard that some traffickers even break children’s legs…”

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After Mom won over Dad, she decided to stay in this world forever. The three of us lived happily together. But then Dad fell in love with his secretary. Mom told Dad, “If you keep seeing her, I’ll leave.” But Dad replied, “You don’t even have a family to go back to. Where can you go?” And when Mom really left, Dad lost his mind. I pushed open the bedroom door. Mom was lying quietly on the bed. It looked like she was sleeping. I walked over and gently called out, “Mom.” But she didn’t open her eyes like she always did, pulling me into her arms. I put my hand near her nose, but there was no breath. I knew then, my mom… was gone.

Mom once told me she was a “Mission Achiever.” She said she completed her task, and that’s why she chose to stay in this world forever. When she said this, her eyes were full of smiles. Back then, I didn’t understand what “Mission Achiever” meant, but I still asked, “Mom, what was your task?” Mom held my little hand and said, “It was to win over your dad, make him fall in love with me, and then have you!” “Erin, you are Mom’s greatest gift.” She gave me a gentle kiss on the cheek and said she never regretted staying. But after that, Mom didn’t smile like that anymore. Because Dad had fallen for his secretary. People said Dad was going to leave Mom and me soon. I got so mad, I chased them away and hugged Mom. At that moment, I thought: Even if Dad didn’t want Mom anymore, it didn’t matter. Because Mom still had Erin. She was my mom, so she would always be with me.

Usually, it was Mom who helped me take off my pajamas, get dressed, and brush my teeth. Mom would say, “You’re ten years old now. You still need me to help you? Aren’t you afraid your friends will laugh?” I would pout and say, “They’d just be jealous that my mom takes such good care of me.” But now that Mom was gone, I had to dress myself. When I came to the table, Ms. May had already made breakfast. Ms. May asked, “Why hasn’t your mom gotten up yet?” I replied, “Mom’s still sleeping.” Ms. May was the nanny Mom hired. She paid her ten years’ worth of wages upfront to take care of me. Before, we never had a nanny. Mom did everything around the house herself. She was a superhero. She’d do all the chores, put me to bed, spend time with Dad, and still find an hour to study her law books in the study. She was preparing for the LSATs. Dad didn’t understand. He would say, “Why are you working so hard when you’re already so busy and tired?” “I’m taking care of you; why not just relax and enjoy life?” But Mom would gently, yet firmly, shake her head and say, “Ryan, this is my dream.” When she said that, her eyes were shining. I thought Mom looked so beautiful at that moment. I imagine Dad thought so too. He reached out, pulling Mom into his arms, nuzzling her neck like a puppy. Mom’s face turned red, and she pushed Dad away, saying, “Erin’s right here.” I knew Mom and Dad were about to play their “game.” They never let me join. I wanted to ask Mom to include me this time. But Dad’s eyes landed on me and said, “Erin, go out.” I got scared and left quietly. Most of the time, Dad treated me well. But when he looked at me that way, I couldn’t help but obey. For a while, things at home were peaceful. Dad even encouraged Mom to study for the LSATs and stayed up late with her. But the day before the exam… Dad took all of Mom’s documents and locked her in the room. It wasn’t until after the exam had passed that Dad came back home with me. Mom looked at Dad, her eyes blazing with anger. “Ryan, do you know I’ve spent a year preparing for this?!” “Do you have any idea how important this is to me?!” Dad walked up to her, ignoring her struggles, and held her tightly in his arms. He softly said, “Merry, I’m sorry, but I did it for our family.” “I just want you to stay home, so I can hold you whenever I want.” “And Erin feels the same way.” When he said that last part, Dad looked at me. I remembered what Dad told me earlier that day. “Once Mom becomes a lawyer, she’ll always be out on business trips, dealing with clients, and she’ll forget all about you.” “And if she meets someone better, she might leave us and never come back.” What Dad said terrified me. I didn’t want Mom to leave. So I grabbed Mom’s hand and said, “Mom, don’t be mad at Dad. I don’t want to lose you either.” Mom looked at me, and it was like all the strength drained from her. She softened in Dad’s arms. Her dry, cracked voice finally broke the silence. “Don’t let this happen again.” Dad smiled, satisfied. Everything went just the way I had hoped. But when I looked into Mom’s eyes, now dimmer than before, I couldn’t shake the feeling… that I had done something terribly wrong.

After breakfast, I went back to the bedroom, shut the door, and quietly looked at Mom. At ten years old, I already understood life and death. But I wasn’t afraid. Mom had told me she was eighteen when she traveled to this world. In her original world, she was still lying in a hospital bed, hooked up to tubes. She said that after she completed her mission, the system gave her two choices. She could return to her old world or stay here. She wanted to go back and see her mom, but she couldn’t bear to leave Dad and baby me behind, so she stayed. I once asked her, “Mom, will you always stay with Erin?” Mom said, “Of course.” I held on to that promise for so long. Now, I just gently tapped her nose and whispered, “Mom, you liar.” Suddenly, the doorbell rang. I knew it couldn’t be Dad. He hadn’t been home in a long time. Outside, I heard Lynn’s voice calling, “Erin, come open the door. I’ll take you home.” “I’ll be your mom now.” I shouted back, “Get out! You’re not my mom. You’re the homewrecker who ruined my family!” After Mom stopped preparing for the LSATs, she devoted herself entirely to taking care of Dad and me. We were so happy. I thought we’d stay that way forever. But then Lynn showed up. She was Dad’s new secretary, always clumsy. Dad started complaining about her more and more. I couldn’t understand why he didn’t just fire her if she annoyed him so much. But then Dad started coming home later and sometimes didn’t come back at all. And Lynn even started showing up in his social media posts. Mom and I saw them together once when we were out shopping. Mom dropped the vase she was holding. Dad heard the crash and looked over. For a split second, he looked panicked. He let go of Lynn’s wrist and ran after us. But Mom grabbed me, covered her mouth, and ran. That night, Mom and Dad had a huge fight. I hid behind the door, listening to Dad explain himself. He said he was just helping Lynn, that she was lonely and needed someone to talk to. He swore nothing was going on, that he only saw her as a sister. But I thought Dad’s words were so fake. There’s a boy in my class, Charlie, who’s always claiming girls are his “sisters,” but everyone knows he’s dating all of them. I saw Mom smirk, her face full of disbelief, and then she told Dad, “If you see her again, I’m leaving.” Dad, who had been calmly explaining, suddenly got angry when he heard that. He shouted, “You don’t even have a family here! Where can you possibly go?” Dad knew exactly what he was saying. He knew Mom had given up her chance to return to her world, the one she came from. She had nowhere else to go. No one to turn to. I remembered once when Dad made Mom mad, and she stormed out, bag in hand. I was so scared, begging Dad to go after her. But Dad just crossed his legs, reading his paper, and said, “She’ll be back. Where else would she go?” That night, Mom came home, her eyes red from crying. She lifted the bags in her hands and said, “Ryan, I got us some food.” She opened the takeout containers. Ah. My favorite crab cakes, and Dad’s favorite chive wontons. I happily ate, but when I looked at Mom, I saw her quietly eating an old bun from the fridge. Suddenly, I didn’t feel like eating anymore. I realized then, if Mom had somewhere else to go, she’d have taken the first flight or train out of here. But her family was in another world. She had no choice but to stay. And Dad knew that. So he made sure she would always stay in line.

Outside, Lynn knocked on the door for a while, but soon the noise faded away. I thought she was gone. But about an hour later, I heard the sound of someone picking the lock. On the security monitor, I saw a strange man. I felt scared. Mom had told me that if there were ever strangers at the door when I was home alone, I should find an adult. Since I couldn’t go to Mom, I ran to the kitchen to find Ms. May. “Ms. May, there’s someone outside, and I don’t know him.” Ms. May swallowed nervously and grabbed a knife, holding my hand as we waited by the door. Soon, the lock clicked, and the door opened. There was Lynn, smiling sweetly as she handed the locksmith twenty bucks. “Thanks, sir.” Ms. May frowned, “Miss Lynn, how could you do this?” Lynn shrugged. “Erin, your dad asked me to come and get you.” “You’ve been avoiding me, so I had no choice.” She reached out to grab me. Without thinking, I bit down hard on her hand. I shouted, “I’m not going with you!” “You can forget it!” Lynn screamed as blood welled up in her hand. I finally let go. Lynn, furious, shoved me to the floor and stormed out. My hand scraped against the floor, and blood started to trickle out. Ms. May rushed to get the first-aid kit. Even though it was Ms. May who bandaged me, I couldn’t help but whisper, “Mom… it hurts.” But my mom couldn’t hear me anymore. Before, she was always there—always with Dad, always with me. But now that she was gone, I finally understood what it meant to miss her. I remembered when I was six, during the holidays, Dad took me and Mom back to the family home for a big family gathering. Dad’s relatives were all there. Uncle John, Aunt Lisa, Uncle Mark, Grandpa, Grandma… So many people, bustling around. But Mom was there alone, just with me. That day, she worked tirelessly, cooking a huge meal all by herself. Everyone else sat down to eat, but she was still in the kitchen, busy. Uncle John and Uncle Mark both complimented Dad, saying, “Ryan, you really married a wonderful, capable woman.” Dad smiled proudly. Mom wiped the flour off her forehead and gave a small smile, keeping her head down. When she finally sat down at the table, most of the food was gone. I told her I was tired, so she only had time to take a few bites before leading me upstairs. As we reached the top of the stairs, Mom paused, turning to look back. Curious, I looked too. Grandpa and Grandma were handing out red envelopes to the younger kids. Uncle John, Uncle Mark, and Dad were discussing work, while the aunts and cousins played cards. They were all one big family. Mom stared for a long time. I tugged on her hand and asked, “Mom, what’s wrong?” She snapped out of her thoughts and looked down at me. Behind her was the loud chatter of people and the warmth of family lights, but her eyes looked so sad, so lonely. “Erin, do you think my mom is doing something right now, too?” It was only then that I realized my mom missed her mom, too.

After Ms. May finished bandaging my hand, she glanced toward Mom’s room and frowned. “It’s almost dark, and your mom still hasn’t woken up?” I replied, “Mom’s really tired. Let her sleep a bit longer.” Ms. May sighed. “It’s been days now, and your dad hasn’t come home to check on her.” My dad hadn’t been home for a long time. He said he was on a business trip, but he had actually gone on vacation with Lynn. Lynn had smugly flaunted those pictures in front of Mom, telling her to divorce Dad and make room for her. I saw the sadness fill Mom’s eyes, turning them red. The place in those photos—Mom had wanted to go there for ages. She had begged Dad to take her, but he was always too busy. Yet somehow, he found the time to take Lynn first. When Mom showed Dad the photos, his face changed immediately. He insisted, “Those pictures are fake, edited. They mean nothing.” But in that moment, Mom’s eyes were full of sorrow. She softly said, “Ryan, what did you promise me when we got married? That you would love only me, that you’d be faithful.” “Otherwise, why would I have stayed here at all?” Dad responded, “Haven’t I treated you well? I’ve given you a multimillion-dollar house, a diamond ring worth hundreds of thousands, designer clothes. Haven’t I given you everything you wanted?” Mom shook her head and whispered, “We just don’t understand each other anymore.” She started throwing Dad’s clothes and shoes out of the house. Dad, humiliated, said he wasn’t coming back. And after that day, he really did move out. Not long after, Lynn’s apartment caught fire, and she moved in with Dad. When Mom found out, she didn’t cry. She just held me gently. Mom said that she had finally understood—people change, love changes, and promises only hold weight when they are first made. But she had realized this too late. There was no going back now. 8 That night, I squeezed my own toothpaste onto my brush, brushed my teeth, and wiped down my small body with a towel. Then I climbed into bed beside Mom and hugged her. Even though her body had already grown stiff, and her skin was cold, as long as she was still lying there, I felt a kind of happiness. Once, I had asked Mom, “Mom, what was your mom like?” My mom didn’t have a dad. Her mom had been her only family back then. Mom said that her mom was very strict with her, always scolding and punishing her when she didn’t do her homework. I furrowed my brow, confused. Why would Mom still miss her mom after that? Sometimes, when Mom had nightmares, she didn’t call out Dad’s name. She cried out, “Mom.” Mom’s voice softened as she told me more. “But when I was sixteen, and I was diagnosed with leukemia, my mom stopped being so hard on me.” “She quit her job, sold our house, and spent every single day taking care of me by my bedside.” “My mom loved me very much.” As she spoke, her voice was tinged with both pride and sadness. I knew then that Mom had never really forgotten about her mom. Because when she came to this world at eighteen, she was still just a young girl herself. On the day Mom discovered Dad had taken Lynn on vacation, she sat by the window and cried quietly. Mom said she shouldn’t have let love cloud her judgment, making her give up everything—even her own mother, who she would never see again. 9 Mom had actually asked Dad for a divorce. A month after Dad moved out, Mom messaged him, asking him to come home. Dad showed up in a black suit, looking more handsome than ever with his slicked-back hair. That day, Mom cooked a whole table full of dishes. Dad seemed pleased with himself and said, “Have you finally made up your mind?” I sat eagerly at the table, watching them, hoping they would make up. But then Mom put down her chopsticks and said, “Ryan, I want a divorce.” I was old enough to know what divorce meant. Divorce meant Dad and Mom would be apart forever, and we would hardly ever be together again. When Dad heard those words, his expression changed instantly. “Merry, you want a divorce over something so small?” “Is this really necessary? I didn’t do anything with Lynn. I still love you. Can’t you be a little more forgiving?” Mom calmly responded, “This isn’t something small to me.” “You broke your promise, you betrayed our love. How can I just overlook that?” Dad started to panic but got angry instead, saying, “And where will you go if we divorce?” “Besides Erin and me, who do you even know here?” Mom’s voice cracked as she replied, “I’ll go out and meet people. If I have no money, I’ll wash dishes and mop floors. I’ll manage to raise Erin on my own.” Dad scoffed and tossed a final remark over his shoulder as he walked out the door, “Go ahead and try.” Over the next few days, Mom sent out countless job applications, but every single one was rejected. Mom didn’t give up and submitted some resumes hundreds, even thousands of times. Finally, someone told her, “Ms. Merry, Ryan Dane has put the word out. No one’s going to hire you.” Soon after, a lawyer arrived at our door with some documents. Mom asked, “What’s this?” The lawyer replied, “This is a comparison of your assets with Mr. Dane’s.” “If you go to court to fight for custody of your daughter, I’m afraid you won’t stand a chance.” He adjusted his glasses. “I’m sorry to say, but you don’t have any winning arguments.” Mom’s face went pale. I clung to her clothes but didn’t dare say a word. Soon, Dad’s relatives flooded the house. They surrounded Mom, bombarding her with accusations. “Ryan is such a good catch. You still want to divorce him? You won’t get another chance like this.” “You’re so ungrateful. What does Ryan even see in you?” Mom coldly responded, “Don’t bother trying to convince me. I’m going to divorce him.” Someone softened their tone, trying to appeal to her emotions. “Merry, think about your daughter. She’s so grown up now. How would she feel if her parents divorced?” Mom hesitated. A chorus of voices followed. “That’s right. Children need a stable home.” “Everything should be for the sake of the child. What’s so hard to forgive?” One of them nudged me forward and asked, smiling, “Erin, do you want your parents to get divorced?” “If they do, you’ll be a child without a mom.” I couldn’t hold back my tears. I hugged Mom tightly, terrified, and pleaded, “Mom, please, don’t leave Dad. Don’t leave me.” Mom gazed at me, dazed, her eyes welling up with tears too. “Fine.” It was just a soft whisper, barely audible, like a sigh. Mom gave up. I thought this would be enough to keep her with me forever. But I didn’t understand then—some birds can’t be caged. Their wings sparkle with freedom, and no cage can hold them.

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Just one month after my parents’ unexpected passing, my husband proposed a fake divorce. He claimed he was fighting for an inheritance and didn’t want me to get caught up in it. To protect my safety, he said we’d remarry once he secured the inheritance. I agreed on the surface but laughed coldly inside. He thought I didn’t know, but he and his mistress had already planned everything on his backup phone. There was no inheritance – what he really wanted was the $2 million my parents had left me! At 1:30 AM, after sorting through my parents’ belongings, I returned to our apartment complex. Seeing the lights on in our unit, I felt a warmth in my heart. During this difficult time, even though I tried to stay strong on the outside, I longed for a moment to quietly lean on someone for support. “Yale, I thought you said you’d be away on a business trip for a week. Why are you back already?” I asked as I opened the door, spotting Yale sitting in the armchair by the floor-to-ceiling window, playing on his phone. He seemed to be looking at something amusing, his smile growing wider. Hearing my voice, he locked his phone and walked over, taking the suitcase from my hand. “The trip was originally planned for three days, but something came up at the company, so I came back early,” he explained. “You probably haven’t eaten yet. There’s a sandwich I brought back on the table. Eat up, and then I need to talk to you about something.” “I’m not hungry. What did you want to tell me?” I grabbed a glass of warm water and sat on the living room couch, waiting for him to put my things away in the bedroom. After setting down the suitcase, Yale sat next to me and pulled me into his arms. “Honey, I need to go back home to fight for my family inheritance.” Leaning against his chest, feeling the warmth he provided, I asked, “Do you need my help?” Yale straightened my posture and looked into my eyes intently. “No need, I can handle it myself. But to protect your safety and prevent other competitors from using you to threaten me, I need to pretend to divorce you for a while.” Hearing this, I was stunned. I shifted away from him slightly. Confused, I asked directly, “Pretend to divorce? What do you mean? Do we really need to get divorced?” “Honey, listen to me. The divorce would just be for show. We’d only get the divorce certificate, but we’d still live together,” Yale explained. “Abby, you have to trust me. I swear on our eight years together, as soon as I get the inheritance, we’ll remarry immediately. I promise.” Yale held my hands, his eyes full of sincerity. “Let’s forget about it. We don’t need that money anyway,” I said. Yale’s after-tax monthly income was $1,000, and I made $1,500. It wasn’t a lot, but we lived in an apartment my parents had bought for me before our marriage, and my car was also a gift from my dad. When they were alive, my parents often helped us out financially. Besides Yale’s monthly car payment of $450 and $200 he sent to his parents, we didn’t have many big expenses. “Plus, after my parents passed away, the inheritance I received is enough for us to live comfortably just from the interest in the bank. You don’t need to do this,” I added. Yale lowered his head and remained silent for about three or four minutes before speaking again: “Abby, you know that my parents married against my family’s wishes years ago, which led to them living in poverty all these years. They’ve always felt guilty that they couldn’t buy us anything when we got married. Now that there’s finally a chance to divide the family assets, they just want to help us out a bit.” “The neighbors keep saying that they finally had me, only for me to become a live-in son-in-law to a rich family. They feel like they can’t hold their heads up high.” “Abby, I’m sorry. It’s all my fault for not being capable enough, making you and my parents lose face.” I opened my mouth to speak but didn’t know what to say. Should I tell him his parents wouldn’t feel guilty about him being a live-in son-in-law? After all, they often asked me for money behind Yale’s back. Or should I say that I wouldn’t feel ashamed because of him? Even when others teased him, no matter how much I argued in his defense, it was still his pride that got hurt. “Honey, can you give me some time to think about it?” Considering his feelings, I lowered my head.

Yale and I were college classmates. I majored in nursing, while he studied accounting. We shouldn’t have had any connection, but a friend of mine in the kickboxing club was his classmate. That’s how we met. He pursued me for a whole year after that, and I was moved by his sincerity and agreed to be with him. I had told him that I wanted to return to my hometown after graduation. As an only child, I couldn’t move far away. He joked that I shouldn’t worry, he could move in with my family. When we graduated, he received an offer from a prestigious company, and I became a nurse at a hospital. In our fourth year of working, we naturally held our wedding ceremony. After knowing each other for nine years, perhaps I should trust him. Yale went on another business trip. After considering for a week, I decided to agree to his request for a “fake divorce.” Thinking that he would return from his trip tomorrow afternoon, which happened to be my day off, I rarely felt motivated to do a deep clean of our home. We had a housekeeper who regularly cleaned the house, but Yale and I cleaned the study ourselves because it contained company documents. While cleaning, I noticed Yale’s backup phone sitting on the desk next to a potted plant, in danger of falling if bumped. I knew this backup phone was the one he usually used for gaming. Afraid it might fall and break, I picked up the phone intending to put it in the drawer. Then I remembered the game he had recommended to me recently, so I set down the cleaning cloth and decided to take a break. As I was logging into the game, a SnapChat message popped up. I meant to swipe it away, but accidentally opened it instead. Looking at the dense, intimate chat history, I finally understood. He didn’t want a “fake divorce” – he wanted a real one. If I were the protagonist in a tragic novel, I might ask on Twitter: “My parents passed away unexpectedly just a month ago, and I discovered my husband is cheating. Do I not deserve love?” Unfortunately, I’m not. So after the initial anger and heartbreak, I quickly pulled myself together. I ordered a new phone of the same model as Yale’s backup phone, smashed it into two pieces, and placed it on the computer desk along with the fallen potted plant. I opened my phone’s camera, recorded a video of the scene, and sent it to Yale with the message: “Honey, I’m so sorry. While cleaning, I accidentally knocked over the potted plant and your phone fell to the ground. Was there any important data on your phone? I’ll take it for repair right away, but I don’t know if the data can be recovered. I’m really sorry, honey.” I cleaned up the remains of the potted plant and the new phone, then took the intact backup phone to see my best friend, Summer. Summer is my childhood friend who studied law and opened her own law firm after graduation. Since he wants a divorce, let’s make sure he leaves with nothing. As I was driving, Yale replied to my message. He told me to just throw away the broken phone, saying there was no important data on it. He asked me not to feel guilty and said he would bring me a gift when he returned from his business trip. I don’t know when the person sleeping next to me became so shameless, or perhaps he had always been shameless and just hid it well before.

After reading the chat history, Summer cursed loudly in her office. If she wasn’t worried about alerting Yale, she would have called him directly to curse him out. As for me, perhaps the shock was too great, and my body activated its self-protection mechanism, allowing me to deal with the situation calmly. Summer hugged me in anguish, hoping I would cry and not keep it all bottled up inside. But I really couldn’t cry. Seeing her cry so miserably, without her usual polished city woman look, I felt Yale truly deserved to die. Leaving him with nothing was too lenient; he should be beaten up. I hired a private investigator to follow Yale, hoping to find something that could ruin his reputation. I called Yale and told him that Summer was going through some issues, so I needed to stay with her for a couple of days. I agreed to the divorce and said we’d discuss the details when he got home. I moved into Summer’s place. Summer held back her anger, and I suppressed my disgust as we stayed up late reviewing all the chat histories and transfer records from Yale’s SnapChat account. Fortunately, our efforts paid off. In Yale’s conversations with the other woman, there were descriptions of him accepting bribes from business partners. I felt a surge of excitement. I knew Yale was finished! On the third day, when I returned home after work, Yale was already busy in the kitchen wearing an apron. Who would have thought that a man with such a down-to-earth, family-oriented image would start cheating just six months into our marriage with a recent college graduate from his company? “Abby, go wash your hands first. Dinner will be ready soon,” Yale called out from the kitchen without turning around when he heard the door open. “Okay.” I washed my hands and sat at the dining table, trying to compose myself. Before seeing him, I could still remain calm. But face-to-face, my anger surged, and I just wanted to tear off his mask. After dinner, Yale brought over a divorce agreement. “Abby, we need to make this look real, so I’ve drawn up a divorce agreement. But don’t worry, it’s just for show,” Yale explained nervously as he watched me flip through the contents. He had the audacity to split my parents’ inheritance with me?! “Honey, why did you include my parents’ inheritance in this? Isn’t that a mistake?” I glared at him, wanting to kill him on the spot! “Sweetheart, your parents passed away without leaving a will, so legally this is considered marital property. Most of our assets are from before our marriage, so if we don’t split this $2 million inheritance, people might get suspicious. Don’t worry, it’s just on paper. All of this is yours, and I’ll transfer it back to you as soon as we remarry,” Yale hurriedly came over to embrace me, expressing his sincerity. Hah, believing he’d return the money was as likely as believing a meat bun stolen by a vicious dog would come back intact.

“Honey, you’re not planning to turn this fake divorce into a real one and take the money, are you?” I pulled away from him and continued flipping through the agreement. Yale moved closer and patted my hand. “Honey, what do I need to do for you to trust me? How about I transfer my car to your name?” I rolled my eyes, thinking to myself that who knows if the car would be seized when his ill-gotten gains are confiscated. Pretending to go along with it, I said, “Honey, I believe you. After all, you swore on our eight years together. If you can’t keep that promise, you’d be ruined and deserve a miserable death, right?” I noticed his body stiffen for a moment, though he quickly recovered. “Honey, I can sign the agreement, but we’ve always had such a good relationship. People won’t believe we’re suddenly getting divorced, will they?” I nestled into Yale’s arms and spoke softly. “There’s no way around it, the timing is tight,” Yale said, stroking my hair. Disgusted, I sat up straight and pouted at him, “Honey, I have a good idea.” “How about this: we’ll have a fight later, and I’ll accuse you of having an affair. Then I’ll beat you up a bit. I’ve trained in kickboxing and have medical knowledge, so I’ll avoid vital areas.” “When the neighbors hear us fighting, they’ll definitely call the police. Since we’re married, and it’s not a severe case of domestic violence, the police will just give a warning. You can say you forgive me. If we do this two or three times, everyone will sympathize with you, and they’ll understand when you ask for a divorce.” How wonderful to be able to beat him up openly. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” Yale hesitated. “Then let’s forget about the divorce. Otherwise, people will start rumors if I get divorced right after my parents passed away,” I turned away, ignoring him. “Don’t be angry, we’ll do it your way,” Yale quickly pulled me close to comfort me. “Okay, let’s go to the entrance. We’re about to start. Don’t worry, I’ll go easy on you.” I led Yale to the foyer and began shouting. “Yale, do you have any conscience? My parents just passed away, and you want to divorce me!” “When my parents were alive, they even gave you money to help support your parents back home, and you dare to cheat on me so soon after we got married! You’ve lost your heart to a dog!” “Yale, people like you deserve to be ruined!” I shouted out all my true feelings and vented my anger through physical force. Yale yelped and cried out, and every time he tried to explain, I silenced him with my fists. The neighbors who watched the commotion kindly called the police and stood at the stairway trying to persuade me to talk things out calmly. I chased Yale from the entrance to the hallway and back into the apartment. When I stopped, his face was bruised and swollen, looking quite pitiful. “Honey, I’m sorry. There were too many people watching, so I couldn’t go easy on you. Otherwise, they might have thought we were just acting. Are you okay?” I apologized while tending to Yale’s wounds. Yale was groaning in pain, even flinching as I applied medicine. “Honey, I’m so sorry. Why don’t you slap me twice? It breaks my heart to see you like this.” My tears fell on cue – the Academy owes me an Oscar. Yale was about to scold me, but seeing me cry so heartbrokenly, he quickly came over to comfort me. “Abby, it’s okay. It doesn’t hurt that much. You did this for me, don’t cry.” Seeing Yale grimacing in pain while trying to comfort me, I felt a pang in my heart. Yale, this is just the interest on your deception.

The police arrived quickly, but since Yale and I had already reconciled, they just gave us a warning and left after we explained the situation. “Honey, let’s not get divorced. How could I bring myself to hit you again next time…” I cried, my eyes red and swollen. “Huh? There’s going to be a next time?” Yale’s eyes widened. “At least twice, right? Otherwise, how will people believe us after just once? Honey, let’s forget about it. Let’s just live our life together. You know I don’t mind that you don’t earn much,” I secretly provoked Yale, afraid he might not want to be hit again. “Fine, I’ve already been hit once, so one more time is okay. But that’s really the last time, alright?” he said. It seems the temptation of the inheritance and the other woman was quite strong if he was willing to be beaten again. After this injury, Yale stayed home for a week to recover. The injuries weren’t severe, but his bruised face made him too embarrassed to go out. I also took good care of him, attending to his needs. You have to fatten the pig before slaughtering it, right? Meanwhile, the private investigator uncovered some news: Yale’s family had no plans to divide any inheritance. Instead, his younger brother owed a large sum to loan sharks!

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In my last life, Mrs. Margaret White, my teacher, led the bullying against me, simply because I scored better than the boy she favoured. She spread rumours in class, saying I cheated and was involved in a relationship. She would say, “Some people’s marks have suddenly shot up, but we all know how they got there.” She’d add, “Some people spend all day not studying and only know how to lead people astray!” She stoked the flames, getting the whole class to turn against me, and in the end, it drove me to depression and forced me to drop out. This time, however, I was back on the day she started spreading the rumour about me cheating. I raised my hand and said: “Miss, last time I handed in my homework, I saw you sitting on Max Turner’s lap. Is that how you improve his grades?” The mock exam results had come out, and I had moved up thirty places. I’d gone from the bottom of the class to the middle. Alice Bennett stared at my paper, “Liv, you’re smashing it!” Alice is my best friend, always encouraging me. We were inseparable in school. In my previous life, when I was depressed and dropped out, she tried her hardest to convince me to stay. After I took my own life, she nearly fainted from crying. Now that I had another chance at life, I looked at the test paper on my desk, but I wasn’t particularly happy. I knew trouble was coming my way. Mrs. White strode into the room, her stiletto heels clicking as she swayed her hips. “I’ve put the class rankings on the board. You can check after class.” “But first, I want to talk about two students, Olivia Williams and Max Turner.” Mrs. White walked over to Max’s desk. Max sat alone, near the front. She pretended to comfort him, patting him on the shoulder. “You didn’t do so well this time, Max. Olivia’s overtaken you.” Max nodded, but from where I sat, I could see him nudge Mrs. White’s lower back with his elbow. Disgusting. Alice immediately jumped to my defence, “What’s that supposed to mean, Mrs. White?” Mrs. White snorted, her expression turning condescending. “Students falling behind is fine. As the form tutor, it’s my job to focus on those who need to catch up. As long as they want to learn, it’s no problem.” “But what concerns me are those with ulterior motives.” “How someone’s grades improved so quickly, I’m not sure. I don’t want to investigate, and frankly, I’m too tired to bother. I’ll spare her the embarrassment by not naming names.” I stared at Mrs. White as she twisted the truth on the podium, and it brought me right back to the last time. Once or twice, I had outscored Max Turner. She began calling me out during assemblies, saying, “Some people’s marks have suddenly shot up, but we all know how they got there.” Then I borrowed a book from the library, and the student council president, Samuel Turner, helped me. Mrs. White saw this. She spread another rumour, “Some people never study and just spend their time seducing others!” She led the class in isolating me. In lessons, she wouldn’t ask me questions. After class, she refused to mark my homework. Even when I handed it in, she wouldn’t grade it. It got worse—she stopped giving me study materials, and when the school counted the class roll, I wasn’t included. Teenagers can be simple and cruel. When a teacher dislikes a student, how can that student have any friends? At that point, Alice was the only one who still talked to me, but Mrs. White eventually transferred her to another class. After that, I was completely alone. Rumours spread, the teacher hated me, my classmates bullied me, and eventually, I dropped out due to depression and ended my life. And all of it because I scored better than Max, the teacher’s favourite. This time, the story started the same way. So I raised my hand and said, “Miss, last time when I handed in my homework, I saw you sitting on Max Turner’s lap. Is that how you improve his grades?” Mrs. White’s face went pale. “What on earth are you talking about, girl?” “Not only do you cheat, but you’re a liar too!” I tilted my head, feigning innocence. “Miss, what are you on about?” “Weren’t you unsteady on your feet, and Max was just helping you out? You accidentally ended up on his lap, didn’t you?” Mrs. White’s face flushed from blue to white, then back again. “Yes, I wasn’t steady on my feet.” Of course, that wasn’t what had happened, but my intention was only to give her a little warning. Still, the students started buzzing. After all, we were teenagers. Mrs. White quickly shouted, “Alright, enough! Quiet down, let’s get back to class!” After the lesson, Mrs. White hurried out without even stopping to talk to Max. Once she left, my classmates swarmed around me. “Olivia, is what you said really true?” “Did Mrs. White and Max actually… you know?” “She does walk like that… I always thought she was a bit much.” I calmly packed my books away. Alice was watching me with concern. I finished tidying up and grabbed Alice’s arm, “Let’s head to the toilets.” As we walked away, I turned to the nosy crowd. “The teacher said she was just unsteady on her feet. That’s all I know, so don’t drag me into it. Mrs. White already doesn’t like me.” Then I pulled Alice along, leaving the gossip behind. When someone spreads rumours about you, the best way to fight back is to start an even bigger, juicier rumour—especially if it’s not entirely false. Mrs. White was implying that my grades came from cheating, so I hinted at something just as inappropriate. Students love gossip. Even the slightest hint of a scandal draws them in. And what’s more explosive than a cheating scandal? A teacher-student affair. I had planted the seed. If they were curious, they could find out for themselves. Let’s just hope Mrs. White keeps her secrets well hidden from these curious teenagers. On the way to the toilets, Alice Bennett seemed like she had something she wanted to say to me, but she kept hesitating. When we finally got to the toilets, she couldn’t hold it in any longer. “Liv, I’m worried Mrs. White is going to come after you.” “She won’t. Why would she, unless she has something to hide?” “But… did she really sit on Max’s lap that day…?” I quickly shushed her. “Careful! Walls have ears!” Alice looked around nervously and nodded, grabbing my hand as we hurried out of the toilets. High school is supposed to be wonderful, the time we’ll remember forever. Alice tugged me along, glancing back to urge me. “Hurry up, we’re going to be late for class!” I felt a twinge of guilt. I was using her. It wasn’t just that walls might have ears; they did have ears. I had noticed there were other girls in the next stall when I mentioned Mrs. White. I said it on purpose—I wanted her reputation ruined. I wanted her to go through exactly what I went through. Every bit of it.

Rumours about Mrs. White began to spread throughout the school. She tried to change her appearance, dressing in plain, casual clothes and swapping her stilettos for flats. It seemed like she was attempting to repair her image. But, of course, the rumours only grew. “Mrs. White’s not wearing heels anymore. Do you reckon she’s pregnant?” “Definitely. My mum wore flats and loose clothes when she was pregnant with my brother.” “So, who do you reckon the father is?” “Do you even need to ask?” The students whispered and laughed, filling the corridors with gossip. Mrs. White clearly heard them, as she yelled for everyone to be quiet, dragging the group of whisperers outside for a telling-off. You could hear her scolding them down the whole corridor. The next day, she returned to her usual attire, as if to prove she wasn’t pregnant. But it was useless. Mrs. White no longer called Max into her office as often. Instead, she frequently summoned me. “Clean the office, Olivia.” “Take this pile of books to Mrs. Thompson’s office.” “Get me some water.” She treated me like a servant. Worse still, she always made me do these tasks during lessons. At St. Edmund’s, we had weekly quizzes for every subject, and the form tutor invigilated. Mrs. White waved my quiz results in the air as she stood at the front of the class. “Some students keep visiting the teacher’s office, but instead of improving, their grades are slipping.” Then she held up Max Turner’s paper alongside another student’s. “Look at these students who don’t spend their time in the office. As long as they want to learn, they’ll make progress.” “But some students like to pull stunts to get the teacher’s attention. And after all that attention, they still let the teacher down, even turning on them. It breaks my heart!” It was a clever move. I couldn’t attend lessons properly, which meant I couldn’t keep up. Naturally, my grades started slipping. But, of course, no one else knew that she was pulling me out of class to do her errands. Just then, Mrs. Holy Thompson, the head of discipline, walked past our classroom. Seeing me standing, she asked, “What’s going on here, Margaret?” Mrs. White let out a dramatic sigh, “Well, Olivia’s grades were improving, but now they’re dropping again. I’m worried about her.” Mrs. Thompson took a look at my quiz paper and frowned. “Olivia, this isn’t good enough.” She handed me some extra revision papers. “Come to my office after class. I’ve got a set of past papers for you. Make sure to copy them and share them with the class. It’ll be good practice for everyone.” I nodded. “Thank you, Mrs. Thompson.” Mrs. Thompson was a well-respected teacher in her fifties. Even the headmaster deferred to her. She smiled and left, leaving Mrs. White fuming. “Well, thank Olivia, everyone. Without her, where would we get these past papers?” Mrs. White’s voice was dripping with sarcasm. But the class wasn’t having any of it. They sincerely shouted, “Thanks, Olivia!” I pressed my lips together and gave a small bow. “Sorry for holding the class back.”

I thought this would be the end of it, but after school, Max Turner blocked my way. I secretly turned on the recording device in my pocket. “What do you want?” Behind him were a few of The Ashford Boys, puffing on cigarettes. Max stepped closer. “What do I want?” “You don’t know what you’ve done? You don’t know who you’ve crossed?” I shouted back that I had no idea. One of The Ashford Boys let out a low whistle. “You’ve crossed Lord Turner!” “Gutsy, aren’t you, going up against Max?” I turned to Max, “So, you’re ‘Lord Turner,’ then?” Max lit a cigarette, smirking. “Who else would it be?” Just then, the headlights of a car shone into the alley. Mrs. White stepped out. She sashayed over to Max, who quickly put his arm around her waist. The boys whistled and cheered, calling her “Mrs. White” and even “sis-in-law.” Mrs. White smirked. “Don’t call me that. You’re not my students, are you? Only Max gets to call me that.” She shot me a cold look before turning to Max. “Do what you want, just don’t kill her.” I understood her meaning clearly—anything goes, as long as I don’t end up dead. Mrs. White drove away, and Max’s group closed in. One of the boys dumped a cup of milkshake over my head, and before I could react, someone grabbed my hair, pulling me to the ground. They dragged me across the pavement, throwing my books out of my bag and stomping on them, spitting and cursing. Max gave the order, “Strip her, take some photos.” A few of them started ripping at my clothes, pulling off layer after layer until only my undergarments remained. I struggled and kicked, and they kicked me back. Suddenly, a police siren blared in the distance, and Max’s group panicked, snapping a few photos before running off. Once they were gone, I scrambled to put my clothes back on and checked my recording device. Still intact. When I looked up, I saw Samuel Turner standing at the end of the alley, watching me. In my past life, he had only helped me pick up a book in the library, but that was enough for Mrs. White to accuse me of seducing him and cheating on my exams. The rumours had destroyed my reputation. Seeing him now, I felt a mix of guilt and confusion. I had never meant to drag him into this. But right now, I must’ve looked a mess. “Did they leave?” Samuel asked quietly. I nodded, realising that he must have been the one to scare them off. He nodded towards the recording device in my hand. “Is it broken?” I shook my head. “It’s fine.” “Hand it over, then.” I stared at him, confused. He adjusted his glasses. “It’s mine. Give it back.” Samuel took off his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. I suddenly noticed the striking resemblance between him and Max. Especially in their eyes. “I helped you. Don’t you think you owe me something?” I had a suspicion about what he wanted, but I wasn’t sure. I decided to take a gamble. “You want to destroy Max Turner. We can work together, but I’m not giving up control.” Samuel blinked in surprise, then burst out laughing. “Whoever said you were stupid? You’re sharper than I thought.” “Alright. How do you want to work together?” “I want Mrs. White to lose everything. And as for whatever Max does along the way, I’ll record it all and hand it to you.” Samuel held out his hand. “Deal?”

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After David finished his undercover operation, it was as if he had become a completely different person. He would often sit by himself, staring out the window, his eyes clouded with a sadness and melancholy that seemed impossible to shake. He no longer lifted our daughter in the air, spinning her around, calling her his little princess. He didn’t come home with surprise bouquets anymore, and even when I tried to be affectionate, he would awkwardly pull away. Then, on the night of Grace’s accident, I saw him standing in the rain, tenderly but desperately kissing another woman. I was still in a meeting when I got the call about Grace’s accident. Hearing the words “died on the spot” felt like a lightning bolt had struck straight through my chest, leaving me shattered. I rushed to Greenwood Memorial Funeral Home, nearly losing my mind, only to see my daughter’s twisted body lying on a cold metal table. The yellow floral sundress I had lovingly put on her that morning was now her burial shroud. The room was chaotic. Some people tried to comfort me, others were questioning what happened. The truck driver was nervously explaining, “She ran across the street! It wasn’t my fault, she came out of nowhere!” I collapsed on the floor, screaming in despair, “She would never run across the street! Where was her father? Where is he?!” “Mrs. Harris, your daughter got off the City Metro Bus alone. We didn’t see any adult with her,” the officer said gently, his voice full of pity. I had always been the one to take Grace to her after-school arts program, except for this one time when she carefully asked if her dad could take her instead. Since David had come back from his year-long undercover work, he had grown distant, cold toward both Grace and me. He spent hours staring off into space, avoiding eye contact, and had stopped calling me “Emma,” switching to the more formal “Mrs. Harris.” He’d make excuses to sit in the car smoking, and when Grace tried to cuddle, he seemed uncomfortable, sometimes even annoyed. Grace, once showered with his affection, didn’t understand why her daddy had changed. In her innocent way, she thought spending time with him might help. I agreed, sent them off, and went to my meeting. I never imagined that this one small decision would cost my daughter her life. I kept calling David, but all I got was a busy signal. With my mother-in-law Carol gravely ill and my parents far away, I was left to face the weight of this tragedy alone. Eventually, with my signature on a piece of paper, Grace was reduced to a small box of ashes. I returned to Pine Ridge Estates, holding her urn like a lifeless shell of myself, only to be stunned by what I saw. David was standing there in the pouring rain, gently tilting another woman’s face up and kissing her deeply. The woman was small and frail, slowly sinking into his embrace as he held her tightly. They kissed with such intensity, they didn’t even notice me standing there, watching. In my mind, scenes of Grace’s horrific death blended with the sight before me, creating a surreal, grotesque picture. At that moment, I didn’t know whether to feel rage or sorrow. I had no energy to scream or confront him. I just stood there, completely numb. I should have seen it coming. David’s job was always unpredictable, and when I married him, I knew I’d have to manage the household on my own. For seven years, I worked during the day and cared for my ailing mother-in-law at night. I took care of every detail of our new home by myself, even carrying tiles up six flights of stairs to save a few hundred dollars. When the neighbors tried to take advantage of me, I had to grab a kitchen knife just to defend myself. Later, during my pregnancy, I fainted in the bathroom and wasn’t found for seven or eight hours. I went through prenatal checkups alone, always feeling out of place among the couples at the clinic. When my water broke in the middle of the night, I took a cab to Saint Mary’s Hospital by myself and signed my own paperwork. In my saddest moments, David wasn’t there. In my happiest moments, he still wasn’t there. I was like a lone ranger, and when people asked where my husband was, I could only give vague answers due to the nature of his work. Eventually, people started to assume I was a widow.

I always told myself it was worth it. He loved his job, and I loved him. We had good times too. When he wasn’t too busy, he’d drive two hours just to buy me a small cake. He’d come home from work with a bouquet of roses. When I was recovering from childbirth, he stayed up all night taking care of Grace, changing diapers, feeding her, handling the housework like a pro. He used to cup my face in his hands, pressing his forehead against mine, and say, “Emma, you’ve done so much. Without you, we wouldn’t have this family.” “I’ll always love you.” Then he left for a year. I didn’t know exactly what his undercover work involved, but I once ran into him at a fish market, chopping fish with the skill of someone who’d seen more than he should. We pretended to be strangers that day, and for a whole year, I heard nothing from him. When David came back, it was like he was someone else. He could go an entire day without saying a word. He stopped caring about anything in the house. At night, he’d lie next to me in bed, but it felt like a chasm separated us. Our home was filled with awkward silences. I tried to bridge the gap between us, but David avoided me at every turn, eventually looking at me with a cold, almost mocking expression. “I never realized how much you wanted sex,” he said once, his tone dripping with sarcasm. It was only now that I finally understood what had gone wrong between us. I stood there for a long time, until the girl finally noticed me. She panicked, pushing David away, her face flushed with embarrassment as she hid in his arms. For a brief moment, David looked flustered too, before quickly regaining his composure. He shielded the girl behind him, calmly saying, “Emma, she’s innocent. Don’t take this out on her. I’ll explain everything when we get home…” “No need,” I said coldly, staring at the man I once loved. I asked slowly and deliberately, “I told you to take Grace to her after-school program. Where were you?” “I got a work call,” David replied, looking guilty. “I couldn’t get away. I saw Grace get on the bus. It was just two blocks after she got off, she knows the way.” A stabbing pain shot through my chest, bending me over as tears mixed with the rain on my face. Grace was only four years old, and he had left her to take a half-hour bus ride alone, then walk another mile. He knew better than anyone how dangerous the world could be, but he still chose to ignore the risks for his own daughter. “Was that work call to kiss this woman?!” My voice rose as I pointed at the girl trembling in his arms. She looked young, probably a college student. She bit her lip nervously, startled by my accusation. David instinctively held her closer, whispering reassurances before turning back to me with irritation in his voice. “Emma, stop scaring her. You used to be more understanding of my job’s demands…” I couldn’t hold back any longer. I lunged at him, slapping him hard across the face. The girl screamed, touching David’s face in concern, her expression filled with sympathy. “We’re getting divorced,” I said, my voice cold and final. Without waiting for a response, I turned and walked away. Two hours later, David returned. When he saw that I had packed up most of the house, he frowned deeply. “I’m exhausted, can you stop acting like a child and throwing tantrums?” “You think this is a tantrum?” I asked, my voice drained of emotion. I was too tired to even argue anymore.

“David, do you even care about this family anymore? If you did, Grace wouldn’t have—” “Tiffany is like a sister to me,” David interrupted harshly. He fell silent for a long time before he finally began to tell me about the girl. “She’s been taking care of me this whole year. She’s done so much for me.” As he talked about Tiffany, his face softened. “She’s just a kid. She knew I was married, but she couldn’t help falling for me.” “She loves watching superhero shows, has a thing for saving people. She’s gotten into some dangerous situations trying to help me.” “She’s carefree, always wearing short skirts and not caring if they ride up. She even complains that I’m too strict about it.” “We spent so many nights huddled together for warmth, holding hands, legs tangled. She’d talk endlessly about her little problems—like missing credits for graduation or annoying roommates…” He smiled wistfully, as if reliving a more carefree time in his life. “I know our relationship has crossed a line,” he finally admitted, closing his eyes as if in pain. “She’s young and doesn’t understand, but I should. I’ve already cost her a year of her life. I can’t keep holding her back.” It was hard to breathe. Did David even realize what he was saying? He was standing there, telling his wife about his love affair with someone else. It felt like I was the one intruding on his and Tiffany’s love story, as if I was the third wheel, forcing him to give up his true love just to fulfill his responsibilities to our family. David remembered all that Tiffany had done for him. But what about me? Didn’t my seven years of love, my seven years of loyalty, mean anything? After a long silence, I managed to speak. “I’ll give you your freedom.” I grabbed my suitcase and pushed past him, heading for the stairs. David caught my hand, meeting my gaze with a hint of desperation. “Emma, I swear, tonight was the last time I’ll ever see her. I still love you. I want us to give Grace a complete family…” “Don’t you dare mention Grace!” I lost control and hurled my bag at him. The sharp edge of a decoration inside the bag sliced his face and neck, and blood started dripping down. He stood there, stunned, as I walked out without looking back. I rented a small apartment near my office. While dealing with lawyers and packing up my things, I also handled the painful task of arranging Grace’s funeral. In the midst of all this, the hospital called. “Mrs. Harris, your mother-in-law’s condition has worsened. Please come as soon as possible.” My heart clenched, and I quickly grabbed my bag and rushed out. Carol was in the final stages of cancer. Ever since I married David, I had taken on the responsibility of caring for her—handling her daily needs, fetching her medication, and managing her treatments. I couldn’t relieve her pain, but I did everything else I could for her. For seven years, through rain or shine, I made sure to be by her side at the hospital at least four days a week. But for the last two days, with everything happening after Grace’s death, I hadn’t been able to visit her. My mind had been consumed with my own grief and the chaos surrounding it. When I arrived at the hospital, I hurriedly pushed open the door, only to be greeted by the sight of Tiffany sitting at Carol’s bedside, smiling brightly as she fed her soup. She wasn’t dressed the way David had described—no short skirts, nothing carefree about her. Instead, she wore long sleeves and pants, modest and neat, looking like the picture-perfect girl next door. Seeing her, you couldn’t help but feel a strange sense of admiration. Carol seemed completely at ease with her, the two of them chatting happily, almost like mother and daughter. “…Mom,” I croaked, my voice hoarse from exhaustion. Carol turned to me with a warm smile, waving me over. “Emma, come here! This is Tiffany, David’s colleague’s sister. Did he tell you about her?” Tiffany froze when she saw me, her face immediately showing her nervousness. She slowly stood up from the chair, awkwardly fidgeting like a scared rabbit. She mumbled, “We… we’ve met before…” I didn’t say anything, and as the silence stretched, Tiffany’s eyes grew red, tears welling up as she hurriedly ran out of the room, only to bump into David, who had just entered. Seeing him, Tiffany let out a sigh of relief, clutching his sleeve like a lifeline as she hid behind him, her eyes still full of fear. David was holding a medical report in his hand, his brow furrowed as he looked at me accusingly. “Emma, if you have issues with me, that’s fine. But my mom has never done anything to you. Is this how you’ve been taking care of her?” He threw the report onto me, and the words “critical condition,” “organ failure,” and “imminent death” stared back at me from the page. Before I could even speak, Carol’s voice boomed from the bed, “You shut your mouth!” “Without Emma, I’d have died in this hospital with no one to look after me a long time ago! You, on the other hand, barely visit me once in a blue moon. What gives you the right to accuse her of anything?!”

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My mum had been widowed for years, but all of a sudden, she turned into a hopeless romantic. She became the other woman, fully aware of the man’s marriage, and in the end, she actually succeeded in winning over a married man. After living through it once, I swore I wouldn’t let my family be her emotional collateral again. But then, she ended up killing the man she loved with her own hands. 1、 Granny sighed with both concern and frustration. “What on earth is your mum thinking? Leaving you at home with a fever like this and running off, completely neglecting you.” I lay weakly on the hospital bed. “Mum’s gone to bring food to Mr. Dean. Granny, don’t be too hard on her.” “It’s just a fever,” I muttered, trying to make excuses for her, “I’ll be fine after taking some medicine.” I was pale, my voice hoarse, yet I still defended my mum. Mr. Dean was Mum’s new match from an arranged date. After my dad passed away two years ago, Granny had introduced James Dean to her. Mum fell for James at first sight, but she had no idea he already had a wife. James’s wife, Martha, was terminally ill. She wanted to find him a good woman who could take care of him and their son after she passed. It was her dying wish. And so, James had reluctantly agreed to start dating again. As absurd as the whole situation was, Mum sympathized with James. She thought it showed he had a strong sense of responsibility. Granny had scolded everyone involved—Mum, James, and the matchmaker. If it hadn’t been for me ending up in the hospital with a fever, Granny might have never found out they were still seeing each other. Mrs. Daisy Fletcher, our neighbour, sighed as she stood nearby. “If that poor child hadn’t crawled out of the house on her own, who knows what would’ve happened.” “She hasn’t even gotten a new stepdad yet, but it seems she’s already got a new stepmum.” Granny stroked my head gently and sighed again. Tears welled up in my eyes, and I lowered my head. But inside, I was laughing coldly. In my past life, Mum had thrown one sentence at me before rushing out of the door: “Lizzy, you’re old enough now to understand. Mr. Dean needs me, and I’ve got to help him.” She’d hurried off to bring James his food, leaving me at home, burning up with a fever that wouldn’t break. I’d tried to call for an ambulance, but I couldn’t find my phone. By the time she’d taken me to the hospital, the damage was done—my brain was permanently affected, and I became… slow. But this time, I’d fought through the fever, dragged myself to the door, and crawled out into the hallway, where I was lucky enough to run into Mrs. Fletcher… The door to my hospital room creaked open, and Mum barged in, already complaining. “Mum, why didn’t anyone tell me Lizzy had been taken to the hospital?” Mrs. Fletcher, who had long lost patience with Mum, didn’t hold back, not even in front of Granny. “All you ever think about is men. You’ve got no time for your daughter, do you?” “If I hadn’t found Lizzy when I did, her brain might have been damaged beyond repair, and you’d be none the wiser.” “You’re so desperate to please that man, you don’t even care about your own daughter anymore?” Feeling the stares of everyone in the room, Mum flushed with embarrassment but stayed silent. Granny, though annoyed, tried to soften things. “Well, Lizzy said she couldn’t find her phone. Why don’t you give her a call?” Mum, quick to take the lifeline, pretended to rummage through her bag. When she finally pulled out her phone, mine tumbled out with it. A look of guilt flashed across her face. “Ah, I must’ve picked it up by mistake.” And then I understood. Mum knew full well I was burning up with a high fever. But to avoid being disturbed, she’d taken my phone, cutting off my only way to call for help. Granny immediately grasped the situation, her expression turning thunderous. Mrs. Fletcher let out a loud, cold laugh. 2、 During my hospital stay, no one treated Mum with any kindness. After the first couple of days, when she made a brief visit to see me, she spent most of her time rushing off to see James, almost forgetting I existed. Soon enough, I was discharged from the hospital. On that day, Granny made sure to call Mum, warning her to come and collect me. Mum showed up reluctantly. Thanks to Mrs. Fletcher’s talent for gossip, it wasn’t long before Mum’s affair became the talk of Maplewood Estate. As we walked in, I could hear the neighbours gossiping. “I heard from Daisy that Lizzy’s mum’s seeing someone new.” “Well, that’s her choice, but couldn’t she find someone who wasn’t married with kids? Shameful.” “When her husband was alive, he treated her so well. And now she’s neglecting poor Lizzy like this. Disgraceful.” “Ah, she’s back. Best not say more…” Mum, though fuming, couldn’t deny the truth of their words. Granny’s expression grew darker, her silence ominous like the calm before a storm. In my past life, after I became slow, Mum had played the victim, always crying about how tough life was for a widow with a daughter to raise. Everyone pitied her. No one knew that when I’d had a raging fever, Mum was busy trying to please James and his family. Back at home, Granny finally confronted Mum. “So, what’s really going on between you and James Dean?” Mum shifted uncomfortably. “James has had it hard, you know. His wife can’t bear to leave him and their son behind. He just wants to give her peace of mind.” “Mum, do you have any idea how rare it is to find such a responsible man? He’s been so good to his wife, even as she’s dying. Just think how happy we’ll be once we’re married.” “I have to help him, Mum. I can’t let him carry the burden alone.” Mum’s face radiated determination, as if she were some kind of saint. Granny’s legs wobbled, and she sank into the sofa. “This is being a homewrecker. People will talk behind your back for the rest of your life.” “James might be struggling, but what about Lizzy? Doesn’t she deserve better?” By this point, Mum had heard enough. The guilt she’d been carrying had long been replaced by irritation. “James is a single father. He has to work and look after his wife and child. He’s exhausted. I’m just helping out by bringing him food and doing a bit of housework.” “And besides, Lizzy’s fine, isn’t she?” Mum had been spoiled growing up, never having lifted a finger to do chores. Even after marriage, Dad had treated her like a queen, and she’d rarely had to do much housework. Now, out of some misplaced sense of affection, she was playing housekeeper for a man who wasn’t even her husband. What a grand display of love. Granny lost her temper and slapped Mum hard across the face. Mum clutched her cheek, stunned. Then she burst into tears, lamenting how hard it had been since Dad died. While they were distracted, I grabbed Mum’s phone and scrolled through the records. Dozens of bank transfers. Some for thousands, some for tens of thousands. All paid to the hospital. “Mum, Dad’s gone. I can’t lose you too.” Mum panicked, but I held tight, refusing to let her take the phone back. Granny’s anger dissolved as she took the phone from me, her hands trembling. She scanned the screen, reading the records carefully. Her expression softened as she squeezed Mum’s hand. “Don’t be afraid. If you’re ill, we’ll get you treated, even if we have to spend everything we have.” Mum looked down, her lips pressed together in discomfort. 3、 Granny was frantic. She immediately demanded to see Mum’s medical records. Mum, of course, had nothing to show. She stammered and fumbled for an explanation. Granny, not suspecting anything, grabbed her arm. “Come on then, we’re going to the hospital. There’s nothing to be afraid of, Mum’s here with you.” Terrified of the humiliation, Mum glared at me before finally admitting the truth. She had spent Dad’s compensation money. The day Dad died, he’d been driving by The Thames Riverbank when he spotted a child drowning. He saved the boy but didn’t have enough strength left for himself. He drowned. The boy’s parents were wealthy and influential. They gave Mum a two-million-pound compensation payment in private. She hadn’t told anyone about it. That money should have lasted her comfortably for years. But Mum’s romantic obsession had taken over. One day, she found James crying, guilt-ridden that he didn’t have enough money to treat Martha. Seeing him vulnerable, she couldn’t help but feel sorry for him. So, she decided to help. That was how it started, and soon she had spent over a million on his wife’s medical bills. Later, when Granny and the family struggled financially, Mum didn’t offer a single penny. I only discovered all of this after I died. My soul had wandered aimlessly, watching as Mum and James stood hand-in-hand at Martha’s grave. James had gazed at Mum with deep affection. “Thank goodness for your late husband’s inheritance, Lizzy. It made sure Martha left us with dignity. You’re an angel to our family.” Mum blushed and leaned on James’s shoulder. I had wanted to tear her apart. But my soul slowly faded away… Granny, after hearing the whole story, didn’t even seem angry anymore. Just… disappointed. In her youth, she had lived through the hardships of the post-war period and had seen plenty of men abandon their responsibilities. So, she had always taught me and Mum to love ourselves first before loving anyone else. But Mum clearly hadn’t absorbed that lesson. “Your late husband’s life paid for that money. And this is how you’ve wasted it? Even if you’ve lost your senses, how could you not think of Lizzy?” Granny dragged Mum to The Royal Bank, forcing her to transfer half of the compensation to me. That was one million pounds. I had already looked at Mum’s spending history, though. She had poured hundreds of thousands into Martha’s hospital bills. After transferring that one million, there was hardly anything left. Perhaps realising this, Mum began struggling in front of the cashier. “This is life-saving money! Why are you taking it from me?” she wailed as if she were the victim of a terrible injustice. The bank fell silent. People began taking out their phones to record us. One woman, with a face full of righteousness, stepped in front of Mum to defend her. “Girl, if you’re being wronged, just call the police. This is a law-abiding society; we’ve got nothing to fear!” Granny seemed momentarily stunned by the situation. But I quickly caught on, and my tears began to flow. “Mum, this is Dad’s compensation. Granny said it should be saved for my education. Why did you spend it all on Mr. Dean? Dad, I miss you so much. If you were here, I could go to university…” Sobs wracked my body as I struggled to speak. The people around us began whispering. Their eyes now turned suspiciously towards Mum. Mum, growing desperate, snapped, “Lizzy! Mr. Dean is my friend. What’s wrong with spending some money to help his wife?” “This is all my fault for spoiling you and making you so selfish.” I pretended to be frightened and kept my voice steady. “But you’ve already spent half a million. Last time, you even said Mr. Dean was going to be my new dad. But I don’t want him to be!” Mum, speechless, stood frozen at the counter, weeping uncontrollably. The security guard tried to calm her down, but it was no use. The bank had no choice but to call the police. When the officers arrived, I took the opportunity to speak up. “Officer, I believe my mum is being scammed.” The officers grew serious and escorted us to the police station. James Dean was also summoned. He looked every bit the part of a nondescript middle-aged man—dishevelled hair, a worn expression, and nowhere near as distinguished as Dad had been. I explained the situation simply. “I think he’s been manipulating my mum, tricking her into paying for his wife’s treatment.” Mum was even more panicked than James. “No, no! It was my choice! He didn’t trick me.” Granny glared at James with disgust. “Officer, this man has been using some kind of charm to make my daughter lose her senses. It’s like she’s not herself anymore.” The officer fixed his stern gaze on Mum. “Was this a loan or a gift?” If Mum admitted it was a gift, the police would dig deeper into the case. After all, Mum had no family ties to James, and they’d only known each other for a short time. To anyone looking, this would seem like a clear case of fraud. But James spoke first. “I borrowed it from Sarah.” I interjected. “Where’s the IOU, then?” James hesitated. “It was a verbal agreement. I’ll write one up now.” After that ordeal, Mum looked at me with a coldness that cut deep. Funny, wasn’t it? Her own daughter had become a stranger to her. In my past life, James had spent Mum’s money without a second thought, never once mentioning paying it back. Mum had been delighted, thinking it meant he didn’t see her as an outsider. With the police’s mediation, Mum reluctantly completed the transfer. Granny, not trusting her, insisted that both of us move back into her house. Mum, still bitter, refused. Later, I heard that she couldn’t stand the neighbourhood gossip anymore and had moved into James’s house. She loved him and wanted to save him. So, she began living in his house, paying the bills, doing the laundry, cooking, and looking after his children, all while covering Martha’s medical expenses. People even praised her for it, calling her a “selfless lover.” But, Mum… now that half your money’s gone, will you still be the hero? 4、 That summer, I found peace living at Granny’s house. Without Mum around to constantly drone on about James, my world was finally calm. And Granny made sure to spoil me with delicious meals every day. I was content, focused only on distancing myself from Mum and respecting the fate of others. Uncle Rob still lived with Granny as well. “Big news!” he shouted one morning, bursting into the room with a wide grin. “I finally got the job!” Uncle Rob had just finished his master’s degree and had been job-hunting for months. Ironically, the company that hired him was the same one James worked for. At the time, Martha’s health was deteriorating fast, and James was frequently taking time off to visit the hospital. It seemed like he was on the verge of being fired. Mum had pitifully begged Uncle Rob to help James with his workload. Out of sibling loyalty, Uncle Rob had agreed. But, just as in my past life, the constant overwork had taken a toll on his health. He’d worked himself into the ground with months of overtime. And then he’d dropped dead. Grief-stricken, Grandpa had a stroke, leaving him paralysed. Granny’s hair had turned white overnight. Mum had shed a few tears before returning to James’s side, taking care of him and his family, saying, “James is really struggling with everything. Someone needs to be there for him.” She had left us to handle Uncle Rob’s funeral on our own. I remembered those days vividly—Uncle Rob bringing back treats for me, Granny dressing me up in pretty clothes, and Grandpa taking me for long walks in the park. This time, I would protect my family. That day, someone had recorded Mum’s outburst at The Royal Bank and posted it on TikTok. The marketing accounts quickly picked it up, twisting the story into sensational headlines: “Woman Becomes the Other Woman for Love – What’s So Special About This Man?” “Widow Spends Her Late Husband’s Million-Pound Compensation to Save Her Lover’s Terminally Ill Wife.” The marketing accounts must have paid well because Mum actually agreed to give her side of the story, providing an audio interview for the added drama. “I don’t care if my family doesn’t understand,” she said. “Yes, I love James Dean, but I still have my dignity. I’m not some homewrecker. I just wanted to help fulfil Martha’s final wish.” “The medical bills, I paid them willingly. It was my choice. I just wanted to ease James’s burden a little. He works so hard.” “I know I’m not being scammed. Martha told me herself, before she passed, that James and his son would rely on me after she’s gone.” The interview quickly made the rounds among people who knew Mum. Soon, familiar faces began calling. Grandpa, furious, could barely contain himself. He’d always been a man of pride, and now people were mocking the family, saying we had no moral compass. Granny, too, regretted not raising Mum with more discipline. She’d believed girls should be spoiled, never made to do housework, and given the best of everything. When she’d vetted Dad, she had tested him harshly, only agreeing to the marriage because he was responsible and kind-hearted. Granny had been so sure that Mum, having experienced the best kind of love, wouldn’t fall for some shallow fling. But despite it all, Mum had gone completely off course. 5、 After the summer holidays, I entered my final year of Sixth Form. If everything went well, I could get an automatic offer to university. Returning to school was tough. I wasn’t sure I could maintain my previous academic level, but I knew I had to give it my all. I moved into the school dorms, only coming home once every two weeks. When I did, Uncle Rob joked that I was becoming a rare sight, like a national treasure. But the dark circles under his eyes told a different story. “I’ve been working for two weeks straight,” he said, rubbing his temples. “Finally got a break.” Instantly, I grew anxious and insisted that we go to the hospital for a check-up. The results were as expected—I was simply tired, but Uncle Rob’s health was riddled with problems. He hadn’t even been working that long, but he already looked like he was being ground down. Uncle Rob shrugged it off. “Every young person’s got a bit of wear and tear these days.” But I refused to take it lightly. In my past life, it was overwork that had killed him. I pressed him for details about his job, not letting him get away with vague answers. Uncle Rob hesitated for a while, then finally told me the truth about the overtime. Immediately, I ran to Grandpa and Granny to report what was happening. Granny picked up the phone and called Mum, giving her an earful. Mum broke down into sobs. “Martha’s had several close calls, Mum. James is struggling so much. He’s terrified of not being there for her final moments.” “It’s all going to be one family in the end anyway. Can’t you help me help him?” Granny couldn’t hold back the curses any longer. “Are you out of your mind? What’s James Dean got to do with us? Your brother is young, but his health is falling apart, and you don’t even care?” Mum tried to justify herself. “He’s young. He’ll recover. Mum, are you sure I’m really your daughter?”

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Simon and I had been together for ten years, and we were finally getting married. But after we moved in together, his cat always seemed to hate me. Simon brushed it off, telling me I was reading too much into it. “It’s just a cat,” he said. But then, one night in the study, I saw something that shattered that illusion. I clearly saw his cat transform into a young woman, tangled in his embrace. In a soft voice, she whispered, “I don’t like your girlfriend. Do you really have to marry her?” I stood frozen at the doorway, feeling dizzy. Not because of the pair entwined in front of me, but because flashes of memories and visions overwhelmed me. The past, the present, and even the future. In those swirling images, I saw my entire life unfold. It turns out I’m just the villainess in a sugary romance novel. The novel is called I Became a Cat and Stole My Crush’s Heart. In the story, the heroine, Mia Yates, secretly loves the male lead, Simon Shaw. She thought they were destined to never be together—until a car accident changes everything. Mia wakes up, only to find she’s turned into a cat. Simon, unaware of her true identity, adopts her, and Mia becomes his treasured pet. One day, she mysteriously returns to her human form—in Simon’s bed. From that moment on, their story unfolds with stolen glances and hearts racing. As for me? I’m the villain, Simon’s malicious fiancée. I’m supposed to compete with a cat for his affection. Out of jealousy, I even plan to throw acid on Mia’s face, only for Simon to stop me just in time. In the end, I get my comeuppance and spend the rest of my life regretting my actions behind prison bars. Simon and I are about to get married, which is why we’ve moved in together. But ever since I arrived, Mia the cat has made her hostility toward me abundantly clear. Every time Simon and I are in the same room, she screeches at the top of her lungs or knocks things over to steal his attention. She never lets me near her. Every time I try to pet her, she scratches me. I thought she was just being defensive, like any cat might be with a stranger. I figured she’d get used to me eventually. But now, I finally understand. She’s no ordinary cat; she’s a woman pretending to be one. Certain things are cute when a cat does them. But when it’s a human? It’s far from charming.

The next morning. I sat at the breakfast table, watching Mia nestled beside Simon. He carefully cut his breakfast into small pieces and fed her bit by bit. How did I never see it before? I took a sip of milk and casually said, “Simon, don’t you think it’s time Mia was spayed? She’s always so agitated—getting her spayed might calm her down.” As soon as I said that, Mia’s fur bristled in outrage. She hissed at me, then quickly retreated into Simon’s arms, meowing pitifully. Sure enough, Simon stroked her back gently to comfort her before looking at me with irritation. “I don’t want to put her through that kind of surgery. It’s not right to take away her right to have kittens.” I raised an eyebrow. “Oh? So, you want Mia to have kittens? Maybe I can help by finding her a tomcat or two.” At that, Mia’s cries grew even louder. Simon’s face darkened. “Bella, why do you have to be so cruel to her? She’s just a cat! Can’t you see she’s just not used to you yet?” Just a cat? He’s been telling me that for ages, using it as an excuse whenever Mia acts out. But he knows perfectly well that Mia is no ordinary cat. He knows her every action is designed to push me out. Yet he still clings to his comforting delusion. I didn’t bother arguing with him. After breakfast, I drove to Mia Yates’ old house. Mia wasn’t always a cat. She used to be just a regular university student. She fell in love with Simon when he taught a few lectures at her university. But after she turned into a cat, the human body she later gained was beautiful—innocently alluring. Whose body was this? Could a ‘miracle’ like this only happen to Mia? These thoughts consumed me as I drove around her neighbourhood, asking about her. Sure enough, those who are hateful often have a tragic backstory. Her mother, I learned, never cared much for her. She favoured Mia’s brother and constantly pressured her to find a wealthy husband, one who could provide a dowry to buy her brother a house. Mia’s attraction to Simon? Well, that had a lot to do with his money. I smirked. Rich, is he? What if Simon lost everything? Would Mia still care for him then? On my way home, I stopped by The Bark & Purr Pet Shop. As soon as I walked in, a brown blur came bounding toward me. “Max!” Max, my beloved Labrador. I had to send him away because Mia hated him. Simon made me rehome him. Of course, I never actually gave him away. I’d just been keeping him at the pet shop, hoping Mia might accept him one day. Now? I couldn’t care less what Mia thinks. I knelt down and stroked Max’s head. “Max, I’m so sorry. I’ll never leave you again.” He seemed to understand, nuzzling into my hand. I hugged him tighter, relieved.

When I brought Max back, Simon predictably lost his temper. “Why did you bring that dog here? You know Mia is terrified of him!” I held Max close, not even looking at Simon. “You have Mia. I need Max with me.” He snapped without thinking. “How can that dog compare to Mia?” Anger flared up inside me. “So your precious cat gets to stay, but my dog gets kicked out?!” He stood there, speechless, before storming off with Mia, slamming the door behind him. “You’re impossible, Bella.” For the first time in our relationship, we had a real argument. It wasn’t that we never disagreed before. I’d just always been the one to compromise, to make concessions for him. But now? I didn’t mind this feeling. For once, I was standing up for myself. That night, Simon didn’t come home. And I didn’t care. Max and I slept soundly. The next morning, I made breakfast for both of us. Afterwards, I got ready for work. The Oxford Research Institute was always busy, and I had taken time off to plan our wedding. Well, there wouldn’t be a wedding anymore.

When I arrived at the institute, I could tell people were surprised. “Bella, you’re back! Weren’t you on leave for wedding prep?” “Yeah, where’s Simon?” Everyone knew about our relationship. We were both researchers at the institute. I made small talk and brushed off their questions. There was plenty of work piled up, and before I knew it, the morning flew by in a blur. Just as I finished, Jessica grabbed me for lunch. “Bella, I’ve got so much gossip saved up! No one else around here cares about celebrity news—they’re all too busy staring at data all day. I need to spill the tea!” Jessica, with her bubbly personality, was a rare exception in our research-focused environment. I smiled. “I’m all ears. I need a break from science talk.” She hugged me. “You’re the best, Bella!” But we didn’t get far before someone interrupted us. “Bella, there’s an urgent meeting. You need to come right away.” The person’s serious tone left no room for delay, so I hurried back to the conference room. Dr. Knight was furious when I arrived. “Who’s responsible for this project? How did such a massive data error go unnoticed?” The room was tense, and several people cast nervous glances my way before someone spoke up. “Uh… it’s Simon’s project, Dr. Knight.” I knew why they were all looking at me. Simon wasn’t qualified for the position he held. The institute had only promoted him to keep me on board. And over the years, he’d been rising through the ranks quickly—thanks to me. Dr. Knight was still fuming. “Where is he? I’ve told everyone repeatedly that this experiment needs constant supervision, especially at such a critical stage. Where was he yesterday?!” Mistakes like this usually led to demotions. Someone tried to make excuses. “Maybe he’s just been overwhelmed with the wedding plans.” “Isn’t Bella the one who took time off for the wedding? So why is she here, and Simon’s nowhere to be found?” “He’s got connections. That’s why he can get away with anything.” “Wish I had that kind of backup. Mess up this badly and still keep your job.” I listened to the murmurs of discontent, knowing full well the resentment Simon had caused by coasting on my reputation. I stood up and faced them. “If Simon’s responsible for this error, then he should be demoted as per the rules.” The room fell silent. Dr. Knight stared at me, surprised. In the past, I’d always covered for Simon, fixing his mistakes. But not anymore. The meeting ended, and as the others filed out, Dr. Knight pulled me aside. She looked at me thoughtfully. “Bella, you’ve been here for years. Your talent and dedication are the best I’ve ever seen. I’ve always worried that these personal matters were holding you back.” I nodded and smiled, reassuring her. “I understand, Dr. Knight. Don’t worry.” I took over Simon’s project. That afternoon, while I was working on the experiment, Dr. Knight’s words echoed in my mind. She had said, “I hope you keep moving forward, Bella. Your path shouldn’t end here. You’re meant to lead humanity to the next level.” My blood surged with excitement at the thought. By the time I left the institute, night had already fallen. But I wasn’t tired at all. In fact, I felt energized, surrounded by the work I loved. 4 When I got home, Max came bounding over to greet me. I patted his head, but my attention was drawn to Simon, who was sitting in the living room with a stormy expression on his face. “Why was I demoted? Did you have something to do with this?” he demanded. I felt a pang of sadness. Was this really the man I had spent over a decade with? I stayed calm. “Your project had a major issue, Simon. It’s only natural that it was handled according to the rules.” But he still didn’t believe me. “I ran those numbers multiple times—they were flawless. Dr. Knight has had it out for me for ages. I bet she had someone tamper with the data!” I couldn’t take it anymore. “Simon, when are you going to stop blaming everyone else for your mistakes? When will you finally learn to take responsibility?” He stared at me in shock before a sudden realisation seemed to hit him. “Oh, I see how it is,” he sneered. “This was all about you taking over my project, wasn’t it? You wanted me out of the way so you could get ahead.” His words struck me like a slap to the face. I looked at him, my voice breaking. “Is that really what you think? After everything we’ve been through for the past ten years?” “I…” Simon faltered, reaching out as if to wipe the tears from my eyes. But at that moment, a sharp hiss pierced the air. We both turned to see Max cornering Mia, growling low and threatening. It looked like any second he would tear her apart. Simon rushed over, pushing Max aside. “Get away from her!” He scooped Mia into his arms and turned back to me. “Bella, I’m willing to forget everything that happened today, but I’m warning you—keep your dog away from Mia. I won’t ask again.” Without waiting for a response, he stormed into the study, slamming the door behind him. I slid down the wall in defeat, feeling completely drained. Max nuzzled me, his head resting on my lap. Simon never used to be like this.

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