Author: Momo Chan

My rich, bankrupt boyfriend disappeared for three months, and I went crazy searching the entire city for him. I even took up a job as a delivery driver, just to roam the streets hoping to catch a glimpse of him. One day, while running an errand to deliver a document, I saw him by chance. He was dressed in tailored designer wear, calmly bidding on an antique. Thirty million dollars. The woman next to him smiled sweetly, “As expected, Jack Stevens is always so generous.” He pinched her cheek affectionately. Someone nearby chimed in, “Jack’s also got a soft heart. Not long ago, he finally cut ties with that small-town girl.” I shifted my gaze, and then… he saw me. And everything descended into chaos. “Twenty million.” “Twenty-three million.” The bidding war was intense, voices rising one after another. I stood at the door, able to see everything clearly inside. Soon, a young man in a suit rushed over, beads of sweat on his forehead. “Good, I made it just in time.” Wearing my delivery uniform, I handed over the document with a smile. “If you need something delivered, you can count on me for punctuality and speed.” I had marked this delivery as urgent, hoping to leave a good impression. The young man glanced at me. “Alright, come in for a drink of water, but remember, don’t disturb the big shots in there.” He led me carefully through a corridor beside the hall. As we passed by, I noticed a European-style window on the wall. It wasn’t fully closed, and I caught a glimpse inside. A hand was raised, signaling something. It was holding a red string. The light hit it just right, creating a stark contrast. I flinched, instinctively hiding behind the wall. “Hey, what’s going on in there?” I asked with a forced smile, trying my best to look naive. He raised an eyebrow. “Rich people’s games.” Just as he said that, the auctioneer’s hammer came down. “Thirty million! Congratulations, Mr. Stevens.” The young man sighed, “This Jack Stevens, don’t be fooled by his youth—he’s a big deal.” “All that for an heirloom necklace, and he just raised the price to thirty million like it was nothing.” I pretended not to hear, but my heart clenched tightly. Jack Stevens? Wasn’t he… bankrupt?

Since Jack disappeared in the middle of the night, I’d been searching for him for three whole months. I quit my other jobs, focusing solely on being a delivery driver. Every time I delivered an order, I’d sneak a look around. I even scoured the local news every day, terrified I might see him in a headline. Inside, the auction was still lively. The lights all focused on that necklace, the diamonds reflecting a dazzling array of colors. They burned my eyes. I didn’t go in to confront him. Instead, I stole another glance through the window. He was dressed in tailored luxury wear, slightly turned to the side, patiently speaking with the woman next to him. She was nothing like me, who was always grimy and exhausted. The woman had long, wavy seaweed-green hair, her makeup flawless. Even without the lights, she was radiant. The man beside them, I knew—it was Victor Lewis, his childhood friend. They were chatting happily, as if the thirty million was just a number. “Still the same guy, big spender like back in the day. He sure doesn’t look like the man who hung around that broke girl.” Jack playfully pushed Victor’s forehead. “Don’t remind me. I almost forgot what it felt like to spend money.” The woman beside him laughed. “Thirty million, and Jack still thinks it’s not enough?” She leaned closer, and even from afar, I could catch a whiff of her perfume. “How about buying me a pair of earrings next?” Her eyes sparkled with a sultry charm. “You completed the task I gave you, after all. I wouldn’t leave you empty-handed.” Victor laughed exaggeratedly. “Man, if that broke girl knew this was all a game for your amusement, she’d probably be fuming.” The woman’s expression remained indifferent. “Cinderella must face reality eventually.” Jack pinched her cheek with a doting smile. “Spoiled since childhood.” She pouted. “Fine, go wash off that woman’s scent, or tonight won’t be so pleasant for you.” I saw a flicker of desire in Jack’s eyes. I’d seen that look so many times before. “Is that so?” They exchanged a smile, the possessiveness in his gaze completely unguarded. Victor chuckled. “Cindy, you were the one who told him to date that poor girl, but now you’re the one who can’t stand her. Haven’t changed a bit, have you?” “That was then,” she glanced toward the window, as if she saw me. I stepped back instinctively. I shouldn’t have kept watching, but I couldn’t help it. I saw her mouth the words: “But now, he’s mine.”

Jack Stevens had always been sharp. In the next second, our eyes met. Panic rose in me, and I quickly turned to leave. I heard a chair scrape against the floor inside, followed by hurried footsteps. Just as I was about to walk away, Jack grabbed my arm. “Mr. Stevens,” I muttered, looking down. My eyes fell on the red string around his wrist. It looked completely out of place. “Nina, what are you doing here?” I sniffed. “Can’t you see for yourself, Mr. Stevens?” Victor and Cindy had followed us outside. “No, I must be blind.” Their stares made me feel humiliated. The slogan on my blue delivery uniform was clear for all to see. Jack furrowed his brows, while Cindy stomped her foot. “Jack, don’t tell me you actually like her?” Like she was scalded, Jack instantly let go of my hand. Then, he pulled a card from his pocket. “It’s a supplementary card, linked to mine. Take it.” I didn’t take it, just stared coldly at the card. “Mr. Stevens, what’s this? Compensation?” I scoffed, “The shabby things in my studio flat aren’t worth enough for you to use that card.” Jack grew more irritated. “Then what do you want?” What do I want? How could he have the nerve to ask? I nearly doubled over with laughter, coldly addressing him and the two people standing behind him. “I told you, Jack Stevens, I hate being lied to.” Cindy curled her lips. “What a hassle.” Her voice wasn’t loud, but it was just the right volume for me to hear. She was speaking to me. “Cindy, don’t say things like that,” Jack snapped, like he was scolding a spoiled child.

I’ve heard words like that before. When I was younger and we had guests over, my cousin Brian would always dig through my room, searching for “treasures.” The drawings I had spent days working on, and the paints my parents had saved up to buy me, would be ruined in seconds—smeared all over. Even my face would end up painted with streaks of color. Then Granny Janine would come in, smiling while trying to clean up the mess. “Oh, my sweet boy, you’re such a rascal,” she would say, holding him tight. “Next time, don’t do that, okay?” She pretended to be stern, but it never worked. Just like now. Jack had stopped Cindy from saying anything worse, but his indulgence only made her more brazen. Cindy made a silly face at him and reluctantly turned away, pouting. Victor stepped in to lighten the mood. “Alright, alright, it’s getting late. Jack, let’s not keep her from working.” I took off my uniform jacket and threw it at them, hard. “Since he’s alive, there’s no need for me to keep doing this job.” Jack stiffened, his expression growing colder by the second. I imagine no one had ever treated him like this before. The streetlights flickered on as I rode my bike home. Wearing my helmet, my vision blurred slightly. I suddenly remembered the first time I met Jack Stevens. He was standing there, dressed in a crisp white shirt, with the golden sunlight pouring over him. His brown eyes seemed to be sprinkled with specks of gold. “Freshman?” He was one of the senior students welcoming us. “Interested in joining the student council?” And that’s how I ended up in the same department as him. It was only natural that I got his contact information. The first time I messaged him, my hands wouldn’t stop trembling. What was I supposed to say? I didn’t know. From the moment I woke up that day, I rehearsed over and over again, until the lights went out that night. All I managed to type were three dry words. “Hi, senior.” It seemed like he had his phone in hand, because he replied quickly. “Still awake?” But now, when I open our chat window, it’s just me—talking to myself. Line after line of green bubbles mocking me. How could someone like that ever fall for me? Turns out, from the very beginning, he had a plan.

Jack and I got together on the day he graduated. He had drunk a lot that night. He was stumbling as he walked out. I gathered my courage and chased after him. He couldn’t seem to focus on anything, and before I knew it, he had grabbed my wrist and pressed me against the wall. “Do you want to date?” His eyes were hazy, his gaze seductive, a lazy charm radiating from him. And for some reason, I agreed. Who would have thought that Jack wouldn’t regret it? So, I worked even harder. Even though my earnings were meager, at least I could have some pride. But Jack was so extravagant. One of his shirts cost me a year’s salary. Yet, he would only pat my head and say, “Nina, you’re amazing.” Just that one sentence would keep me going for a long time. But that didn’t last long. His family went bankrupt. His parents ran away to escape their debts. When I found out, I rushed to find him. He was sitting at the entrance of their mansion, surrounded by nothing. He looked up at me, the streetlight casting a long shadow behind him. He looked so cold, so alone. “Leave. I have nothing left to give you.” I cried and laughed at the same time. For the first time, I sat down beside him, looping my arm through his. “It’s okay. From now on, I’ll take care of you.” He shifted slightly, and then came the flood of kisses. Our breaths mingled. It was one of the few intimate moments we ever shared.

Back in my tiny studio flat, traces of Jack were still everywhere. The ceramic bowls we made together, the coasters we wove, and our matching slippers. I packed everything away one by one. And that’s when I realized—we didn’t even have a single photo together. A thought formed in my mind. Maybe Jack had known all along that this was just a game. That’s why he didn’t want to leave any proof of our relationship. I opened his Instagram profile. There wasn’t a single post about me. It was as if we had never officially been together. Our relationship had begun out of nowhere, and now it was ending just as mysteriously. I clipped my bangs behind my ears and washed my face. Cold water soaked my cheeks, and the scar on my forehead stood out clearly. I closed my eyes and was transported back to the car accident. At the time, Jack had gone out to buy me a cake. A car came speeding by, and I pushed him out of the way with all my strength. I was the one who got hit, and though the physical wounds had healed over time, the scar on my forehead never fully went away. How foolish. For the first time, I used concealer. It was as if I were trying to fill the hole left in my heart. Or maybe, I was just deceiving myself. My hand trembled violently as I looked at my reflection in the mirror. I almost couldn’t hold onto the makeup brush. A car horn sounded outside, and I jumped. The brush slipped from my hand into the sink, soaked with water. Nina, you’re such a failure. All the disappointment and anxiety I had bottled up finally erupted. I wasn’t even sure why I was crying. Was it because my hands could barely hold a pen? Or was it because of this secret relationship that no one knew about? I curled up, slowly sliding down to the floor, my back against the wall. I don’t know how long I stayed there. The silhouette of the window merged with the darkness outside. Finally, I moved my dry lips. Jack Stevens, I don’t want you anymore. From today on, this is goodbye.

Truth be told, Jack Stevens didn’t have many things left here. It took just two hours to clear everything out. I called the junk man, Mr. Davinson, and handed over everything in one go. The apartment felt clean all of a sudden. No more pairs of things—no more signs of us. It was refreshing. I tidied up a bit, ready to start looking for a new job the next day. Then a message came in. It was a photo. Jack was lying in Cindy’s arms, his eyes half-closed. Behind them was the luxurious setting of a private lounge, the kind dripping with decadence. The dim lighting cast a seductive glow over Jack’s face. A side of him I had never seen before. Cindy didn’t add any words to the message. But it was enough. The message was clear: Jack Stevens was hers. After the emotional rollercoaster earlier, I felt… nothing. I deleted the photo, my expression blank as I started making myself a bowl of noodles. I’d cried over him once. That was enough. Crying over a man? Now that would be foolish. The noodles were just about ready when my phone rang. A number I didn’t recognize. “Hey, Nina—no, wait, poor little Nina,” came Victor’s booming voice from the other end. “Jack’s drunk and insists you come pick him up. Better hurry.” I took a bite of my noodles. “Jack Stevens? I don’t know him.” “What are you talking about? If you don’t come soon, the place will close, and Jack will be sleeping on the street.” “Then let him sleep there,” I said, finishing the noodles in just a few more bites. “It’d be better if he just died.” Victor was still talking, but I hung up before he could waste any more of my time. What a waste of a phone call. I turned my phone off and enjoyed one of the best night’s sleeps I’d had in a while. When I woke up the next morning, sunlight poured through the window, filling the room. Turns out, when I’m not worrying about Jack Stevens, I can sleep perfectly fine. This was the first day without him, and even the bed felt bigger than it used to. I was just about to get out of bed when I saw a head pop out from the bathroom.

“Nina, where’s all my stuff?” I froze on the spot. My body trembled involuntarily. “What are you doing here?” Jack was drying his face with a towel. “I’ve got a key. Why wouldn’t I come home?” His casual tone and the way he acted like nothing had happened yesterday shocked me. Barefoot, he walked over and sat on the edge of the bed, looking a bit uncomfortable. “I drank too much last night. Give me a massage, would you?” I could hardly believe his audacity. He had a new woman now, yet he still thought he could order me around like before. I backed away, my face cold. “Jack Stevens, what are you trying to do?” Jack hesitated, then resumed his usual soft demeanor. “Nina, what are you talking about? Come on, help me out.” He reached for my hand, but I pulled away immediately. A flash of disappointment crossed his eyes, but he quickly covered it up, trying to act nonchalant. “Oh, I noticed a lot of things missing from the apartment. How about we go shopping later?” He moved closer, flashing me that boyish grin I used to love. “You can help me pick stuff out.” Jack raised his eyebrows, still carrying that youthful charm. It was the look I once adored. But now, looking at him, all I felt was disgust. He hadn’t even bothered to wash off Cindy’s perfume. “Jack, this isn’t your place anymore.” My voice was ice-cold. “Leave the key and get out.” His lips quivered slightly, a hint of panic creeping into his expression. “But Nina, you said… you said this was our home.” His skin must be thicker than I imagined. Suddenly, something clicked in his mind, and he asked, “Is this about Cindy?”

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Before my A-Levels, I was diagnosed with stomach cancer—because I was starving. When I told my mum, she thought I was lying and cut my allowance even more. She said that when she was my age, she only had £60 a month, and here I was, getting £100. I should consider myself lucky. She wanted me to learn the virtue of thrift. Later, she and my dad went on holiday and left me with no money. I ended up starving to death. She held my body, crying uncontrollably. “Mum, why are you crying?” “Now that I’m dead, you won’t have to spend any more money on me. Isn’t that something to be happy about?” After finishing my check-up at St. Thomas’ Hospital, I went home with the late-stage stomach cancer diagnosis in my hand. As soon as I walked in, my mum was on her phone. She glanced at me and said, “Starting next month, your allowance will go from £300 to £100.” I froze, the test result still in my hand, thinking about how to give it to her. She continued, “You’ve got it so good now. When I was your age, I had £60 a month. £100 is more than enough for you.” I bit my lip gently, hesitated, and then said, “Mum… it’s not really enough. Could you give me a bit more? I’m… sick.” I slowly pulled the diagnosis out of my pocket and handed it to her, still hoping that despite everything, she was my mother and would care. But in the next second, she knocked the paper out of my hand. “Since when did you learn to lie like this? When I didn’t lower your allowance, you were fine. The moment I cut it, you suddenly have all these problems?” Her voice was sharp, her eyes filled with anger, as if I was her worst enemy. Timidly, I stepped forward and mumbled, “Mum, I’m not lying…” But she only got angrier, pointing at me and shouting, “Oh, now you’re talking back, are you? You ungrateful little pest!” She grabbed a feather duster from the sofa and hit me with it. At that moment, my dad, who was outside hanging up the laundry, came over, pushing me gently towards my room. He smiled at her and said, “Come on, love, no need to hit her…” “She’s gone rotten! All I wanted was for her to learn the value of money, and now she’s lying about being ill! I just watched a video—some student made millions in their first year at uni, supporting their family. Why should I still have to support her?” “She’s such a burden—always sulking. It would be better if she were dead…” I closed my bedroom door quietly, my heart being sliced to pieces by each word. Maybe it would be better if I were dead… It wasn’t the first time I’d heard her say that. But it hurt every single time. Mum, do you really wish I were dead? When I die, I’m sure you’ll be happy. The doctor said I wouldn’t live more than three months. By then, I’m sure you’ll be relieved. But Chloe doesn’t want to give up…

Since my monthly allowance had been cut to £100, after buying my school supplies, even if I only ate bread and pickles, I still couldn’t make ends meet. With A-Levels coming up, I had very little time. I only had Sunday afternoons off, so I spent that time handing out flyers. The boss, Mr. Cooper, knew about my situation and gave me a slight raise. I worked one day a week, and I earned £100, paid on the spot. One day, after a long day of distributing flyers, I came home, and the first thing my mum did was glare at me. “I’m missing £100 from my purse. Did you take it?” I was confused, and before I could say anything, she stormed over and pulled my bag from me. She rummaged through it and only found some loose change, but she wasn’t satisfied. She started searching my pockets. Finally, she found £100 in my jeans. Her eyes burned into me like a demon from hell. “Who told you to steal from me?” she hissed through clenched teeth. I was terrified. Every time she looked at me like that, I knew there would be punishment. My legs started trembling, and my voice shook as I stammered, “I didn’t… I didn’t…” “That’s the money I earned from my part-time job. I didn’t steal it.” But she didn’t believe me. She slapped me and yelled, “You’ve been lying to me your whole life! Didn’t I raise you better than this?” “Do you think I’m stupid? Do you think you can fool me with these lies? Today, I’ll teach you a lesson and show you who’s in charge!” She pulled the charging cable from the plug, grabbed my hair, and dragged me to the floor. Then, she whipped my leg with the cable. It hurt so much. But my heart was numb. From primary school until now, her “military discipline” had gone from confusing me, breaking my heart, and making me rebel, to leaving me completely numb. She had perfected her methods of “education.” The charging cable was her favourite because it hurt but didn’t leave lasting marks, unlike sticks or coat hangers. She also knew how to pinch me in the most painful spots without leaving a bruise, tie elastic bands around my arm so tightly that my hand would go numb, and wrap a towel around a stick so it would hurt but leave no visible wounds. It’s laughable, isn’t it? All of these were things my own mother tested on her daughter. Her only daughter… Right then, the pain in my stomach flared up again, twisting and turning like something was tearing it apart. I started to wish that I could just die during one of these “lessons.” At least then, the pain would stop.

All the money I earned was taken by my mum. Now, I had less than £10 to my name. To stretch it out, I decided to only eat one piece of bread every three days. But I’d overestimated how long I could last with stomach cancer. By the first morning, I fainted while running during PE. Ms. Thompson carried me to the nurse’s office, and after a quick check, the nurse said I’d collapsed from low blood sugar. A classmate, who had come along with the teacher, explained my situation to her. Ms. Thompson was shocked when she heard about how my mum treated me. It wasn’t unusual for students to faint from exhaustion and stress in school, but given my situation, she felt she had to call my mum. When my mum heard what had happened, she was reluctant to come, but Ms. Thompson insisted. When she arrived, she found the teacher encouraging me to eat the food she’d bought for me. My mum, furious, slapped me in front of everyone. “You liar! You said you’d fainted! Here you are, looking perfectly fine. Why didn’t you just die?” Ms. Thompson, stunned by the sudden slap, froze in shock. After a moment, she spoke up, standing between us. “Why would you say something like that? Can’t you talk without being so cruel?” But my mum continued to rant, accusing me of being deceitful, saying I’d manipulated everyone for money. Then she glanced at Ms. Thompson and sneered, “First she couldn’t trick me, and now she’s got you fooled, hasn’t she? Or are you just trying to seduce her?” The teacher slammed the table in anger. “Madam, I’m Chloe’s form tutor,” she said firmly. By now, the whole canteen had turned to look at us. Embarrassed, my mum’s expression softened, and she mumbled, “Sorry, I didn’t know you were her teacher.” “She’s just such a troublemaker. I’ve only been trying to teach her to save money, and now she’s lying to me, stealing from me, and pretending to faint because she hasn’t eaten…” Ms. Thompson, her face pale with shock, interrupted her mid-sentence. “She’s not lying. Chloe fainted from low blood sugar, and I called you.” She went on, “I’ve heard from her classmates that all Chloe eats at school is bread and pickles. Sometimes, she only has one meal a day because you won’t give her any more money.” My mum, caught off-guard, stammered, “But I do give her money. I give her £100 a month! When I was her age, I got £60, and she gets £40 more than I ever did.”

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After my daughter caused a hit-and-run accident, she knelt in front of me, sobbing. “Mom, I just got accepted into Yale University. I have such a bright future ahead of me. If I go to prison, my life will be over. Please, I’m begging you—save me…” I agreed. Two years in prison, and neither my husband nor my daughter visited me even once. When I was finally released, I learned the bitter truth: it had all been a plot between my husband and daughter. They had transferred all my assets into their names long ago. The daughter who once wept and begged me to take the blame now spat at me, calling me a worthless, ugly ex-convict, and kicked me in the chest. I died on the spot, despite efforts to save me. But when I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day Charlotte received her college acceptance letter. “Mom, Dad! My scores are out! I got into Yale University!” Charlotte Carter, my adoptive daughter, exclaimed excitedly. “Well, of course, you did! After all, you’re Jack Carter’s daughter! Yale is one of the top universities. You’ve made your parents so proud. Honey, didn’t your year-end bonus just come through? Give it all to Charlotte and buy her that BMW,” my husband Jack declared proudly. It was a conversation I knew all too well, and I immediately realized—I had been reborn. “Dad, I’m still young. A car would be too flashy. Besides, Mom works so hard to earn that money. I’d feel bad spending it,” Charlotte said sweetly. In my past life, I had always thought she was a kind, dutiful, and considerate girl. But after going to prison, I learned she was nothing more than a snake hiding behind a sweet smile. “But your dad promised you—if you got into Yale, you’d get a BMW,” Jack said, glancing at me expectantly. Jack was a stay-at-home husband, and all our household expenses were covered by me. In my previous life, I had even felt guilty for not giving him a child of his own. “Why are you looking at me? You made the promise, not me,” I said coldly. Both Jack and Charlotte stared at me, wide-eyed. In my past life, they were always perfectly in sync—Charlotte playing the innocent angel, and Jack playing the doting father—all to squeeze money out of me. And I, foolishly, had fallen for it time and time again, thinking Charlotte was a loving daughter and Jack a generous man who treated her like his own. But now, watching them put on the same act, I felt nothing but disgust. “Did you lose your mind today? Charlotte got into Yale! That’s something to celebrate! You can’t even buy her a car? Do you even deserve to be her mother? Or is it that you’ve never truly seen her as your daughter?” Jack lashed out at me. “Dad, don’t say that. $50,000 isn’t a small amount, and Mom’s business needs the cash to keep things running smoothly. It’s fine if we don’t buy the car,” Charlotte said, still playing the part of the understanding daughter. “Fine, then we’ll get her a cheaper one—how about a $30,000 car?” Jack shouted, turning his anger toward me. “Have you been living under a rock? Since when is a $30,000 car considered cheap? If you want to buy her a car so badly, why don’t you use your own money?” I mocked. Jack stared at me, unable to believe I had just said that. Charlotte had the same shocked expression, as though the world had flipped upside down. In my past life, their tricks had always worked on me, and I would have done anything for them. I got swindled time and time again, and still believed they were good people. “Mom, I don’t need a car. Please don’t fight. This is all my fault,” Charlotte whimpered, tears spilling from her eyes. In my previous life, I would have hugged her, wiping away her tears, and promised her anything she wanted. But this time, I knew better—Charlotte was a manipulative viper. Watching her fake tears made my blood boil. SLAP! I slapped her across the face, hard. Father and daughter stood frozen in shock. Charlotte looked at me, terror and confusion in her eyes. “A mosquito bit your face. I swatted it too hard,” I said, feigning concern, as I reached out to touch her reddened cheek.

The next day, I went to my office and immediately changed all my bank account passwords, including the payment ones on my phone. This time around, I wouldn’t let Jack get a hold of my assets. Later, I asked the school for Charlotte’s SAT registration number and looked up her actual scores. I was stunned—she only scored 230. Even with an extra 400 points, she couldn’t have made it into Yale. In my previous life, Charlotte had shown me several of her mock exam scores—always over 650. I had believed her then, but now I realized those score reports must have been forged. That afternoon, I went to a private investigator and hired them to look into Jack and Charlotte. I suspected they were actually father and daughter. Twelve years ago, Jack had taken me to an orphanage, and out of all the children there, he had chosen Charlotte. At the time, I had thought they were simply drawn to each other by fate. But looking back, the way they had conspired against me, there was no other explanation. They had been planning this for twelve years—slowly but surely draining me of everything I had. A week later. I received a text from the bank saying that my supplementary credit card had been charged $30,000. In my haste, I had forgotten to cancel the supplementary card. I had given Jack the card for convenience—so he could buy groceries and cover household expenses. But I didn’t need to guess—I knew the $30,000 had gone toward buying a car. I quickly called the bank and had the card canceled.

That evening, as I arrived home, I saw a brand-new BMW X2 without license plates parked outside. When I stepped inside, Charlotte was there, smiling sweetly as she handed me my slippers. “Welcome home, Mom. You must be tired from work.” Looking at her fake smile, I wanted nothing more than to slap her again, but I had to restrain myself until I had all the facts. “Did your dad buy you the car?” I asked coolly. “Mom, I didn’t want it, but Dad insisted. There wasn’t anything I could do,” she said, putting on her most innocent expression. “I’ve canceled your supplementary card. From now on, I’ll give you $1,000 a month for household expenses. If you need to buy anything big, just let me know and I’ll get it for you.” “What’s that supposed to mean? Our daughter got into Yale, doesn’t she deserve a reward?” Jack stormed over, his face red with anger. I nearly exposed them right then and there. 230 points. That pathetic score wouldn’t get her into Yale in a million years. But I held back. “I’m only thinking of her. She’s still young and just got her driver’s license. What if she gets into an accident? Then what? Am I supposed to bury my own daughter?” I asked, pretending to be concerned. Jack slammed his fist on the table and leaped up. “How dare you curse my daughter?” In that moment, I was absolutely certain—Charlotte was Jack’s biological daughter. “I’m not cursing her. I’m just worried for her safety.” “Hmph. You’re just too cheap to spend money,” Jack sneered. “Mom, did you get upset because Dad used your money to buy me a car?” Charlotte immediately went into victim mode, her eyes welling up with tears. I gently patted her head and said, “How could I be upset about spending money on you? I’m just worried about your driving skills. If something happened to you, how could I go on living?” If they could play their games, so could I. “Mom, I got into Yale, one of the best universities in the country! Any other mother would have thrown a massive party and showered me with gifts, but you haven’t done anything. Do you not love me anymore?” she cried, her acting flawless. Her performance was nothing short of brilliant. I continued patting her head and replied, “Well, these days, the country promotes frugality. Throwing a party would be wasteful. Besides, it’s important to stay humble. Being too flashy will only make others jealous. As for gifts, isn’t that BMW a gift?” “Mom, you don’t love me anymore! You don’t understand! The car isn’t for showing off or making my life easier. It’s because I want to fulfill a dream—I want to take you on a road trip, across the country, to thank you for everything you’ve done for me.” “Charlotte, I appreciate your sentiment, but doesn’t something feel off?” “What’s off?” she asked, looking genuinely confused. “Shouldn’t you be the one earning the money to buy the car and take me on a road trip? It’s like saying you’re going to treat me to a meal, but then I end up paying for it. Doesn’t that seem odd?” She froze, clearly unable to come up with a rebuttal. “Emma Richardson, how can you call yourself a mother? How could you crush your daughter’s loving intentions like this?” Jack said, sending Charlotte a quick wink. “Mom, you’re being so cruel. You don’t love me anymore…” Charlotte wailed as she stormed out of the house. “Charlotte, wait!” Jack followed after her. Suddenly, I remembered the notice at the entrance of our building: Last night, the surveillance cameras were damaged. Repairs are underway. Please secure your belongings and lock your doors. Were they trying to set me up? With the cameras down and no witnesses, they could easily frame me for something. The thought sent a chill down my spine. I immediately called my assistant, Claire, who lived just a mile away. Then I phoned five of my employees and told them there was an emergency meeting at my place and that they should come as quickly as possible. I’d cover their cab fare. By 9 p.m., I heard the door open and stepped out of the study. “Have you been here the whole time?” Jack asked. “Yes.” “I don’t believe you. You didn’t go out looking for Charlotte?” “She’s not a child anymore. She can take care of herself.” “What kind of mother are you? How can you be so heartless?” “We can’t protect her forever. She has to walk her own path,” I said coolly. After another ten minutes of bickering, Charlotte burst back into the house, looking frantic. She immediately dropped to her knees in front of me. “Mom, I was in a hit-and-run accident! Please, you have to take the blame for me. Save me! I just got into Yale. My life is just beginning—I can’t go to prison!” Hearing those familiar words made my blood boil. I wanted to strangle her on the spot. In my previous life, I had been such a fool to take the blame for her. “Charlotte, don’t be afraid. Don’t worry,” I said, faking concern as I pulled her into my arms, comforting her. “Mom, will you help me?” she asked, her voice trembling, her eyes wide with fear. “Of course I’ll help you. You’re my precious daughter.” “I knew it! I knew you wouldn’t abandon me! I swear, when you get out of prison, I’ll make it up to you. I’ll be the best daughter.” “Prison? What prison?” I pushed her away, feigning surprise. “Mom, didn’t you say you’d help me? Didn’t you say you’d take the blame?” she asked, her voice full of confusion. “When I said I’d help, I meant I’d hire you the best lawyer. We’ll fight for leniency,” I said, smiling sweetly. Charlotte’s jaw dropped. “Emma, this is all your fault! If you hadn’t upset Charlotte, she wouldn’t have run off, and none of this would have happened. You should take responsibility and go to prison for her,” Jack said, his voice full of righteous indignation. “And why don’t you take the blame for your daughter, Jack? Listen, Charlotte, your father is just a stay-at-home dad. A few years in prison won’t be a big deal for him. But your mom? I run a company. I’m the one making the money. If I go to prison, who’s going to pay for your education?” Jack’s face turned beet red, and he had nothing to say. “Mom, Dad can’t take the blame for me. After I hit that woman, I got out of the car to check on her, but she grabbed my ankle. I screamed—she didn’t see me, but she definitely heard my voice.” I sighed and placed both hands on her shoulders. “Charlotte, you need to stop running from this. Take responsibility for what you did. Go turn yourself in. You’re still young, a few years in prison won’t ruin your life. And don’t worry, you’ll always have me. When you get out, you can work at my company.” Her mouth hung open in shock. How could the woman who once loved her more than anything suddenly seem so… indifferent?

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At eight months pregnant, I went into early labor. I died on the operating table. I was rushed into the maternity ward with another pregnant woman. “The water has broken for this patient; we need to proceed with surgery immediately. Contact the family to confirm signatures.” “My husband is away on a business trip. I can sign for myself!” I spoke through the pain, just as a man rushed over to the other woman’s side. “Save her first! She has a weaker constitution!” I recognized him immediately. Nathan Chase, my husband. The same husband who was supposed to be on a business trip out of town. How could he tell them to save someone else first? Nathan glanced at me with a cold calmness. “She’s an athlete, she’ll be fine. I’m her husband. I can sign the liability waiver.” He spoke firmly to the medical staff. “I’m Dr. Nathan Chase from Downtown General Hospital’s OB-GYN department. Trust my professional judgment.” Later, I bled out on the operating table. Nathan knelt at my grave, sobbing, “Emily, I was wrong. Please, come back.”

Nathan Chase was a renowned OB-GYN at Downtown General Hospital. But he was always busy. Busy traveling across the country for work, too busy to come back when his wife was knocked into premature labor. The sudden labor only worsened the hospital’s already tight resources. After the violent impact of my fall, by the time I was taken to the hospital, blood and amniotic fluid had already soaked through my entire body. The doctor told me to contact my family, so with the last bit of consciousness I had, I called him. Once. Twice. No answer. I tried my mother-in-law. Still no response. “My husband is out of town for work. I can sign for myself,” I groaned, barely able to bear the pain, as I informed the doctor of my intentions. Coincidentally, another pregnant woman was brought into the emergency room after a car accident. “Doctor, save her first! She’s bleeding from the head; she might have a risk of intracranial bleeding!” I looked up, and there he was. Nathan Chase, my husband, the man who was supposed to be away. I have RH-negative blood, the rare “panda blood,” as they call it. And here I was, lying on the ground, covered in blood, and my husband, the one man I thought I could rely on, chose to ignore me. Nathan held onto Tina Lewis’ hand tightly, his concern for her all too obvious. “Don’t worry,” he said softly. “I’ll personally handle your surgery. You and the baby will be fine.” “I guarantee you’ll walk out of surgery perfectly healthy.” The tenderness in his voice, the way he looked at Tina, cut through me like a knife. Without a hospital bed, I lay there in the hallway, watching him shower affection on his former classmate, his “little sister” from medical school. Patients passed by with their families. Everyone had someone to lean on in this terrifying moment. Everyone but me. As my own husband walked right by me toward another woman. All I got was a cold remark: “You’re just having a premature birth. You’ll be fine.” Did he not know I had RH-negative blood? As I waited for my surgery to be scheduled, I felt my eyes grow heavy. The next time I woke up, I was surrounded by doctors and nurses. “The patient has suffered an amniotic fluid embolism, and she’s hemorrhaging! Contact the blood bank immediately!” “Where’s Dr. Chase? He’s the only one in the city experienced enough to handle this!” The nurses wheeled my bed frantically down the hallway, assuring me everything would be alright. They told me my husband, Dr. Chase, was the top OB-GYN in the city. He had successfully handled amniotic fluid embolisms three times before. They even contacted the media to put out a call for blood donations. They didn’t want me to worry. I was pushed into the operating room, the cold mechanical sounds of various machines filling the air as they reported on my vitals. “Not good! Her oxygen levels are dropping too fast. She’s fading! Where is Dr. Chase?” I could feel the anxiety of the attending physician as she clutched my hand, her fingers icy. The nurse was just as worried but helpless. “Dr. Chase finished surgery on another patient and then… left. Apparently, that woman wanted some bone broth, and he said he’d make it himself.” “Call him!” “He’s not answering…” “The baby’s not breathing either, and the patient is critical. We’re losing her!”

The conversation between the doctors made my heart sink, little by little. At the moment when my baby and I needed him most, my husband wasn’t there. He was busy making soup for another woman. The attending physician gripped my hand firmly. “You trusted me, so I won’t give up on you. You have to hold on!” Alright… I blinked slowly. Someone in this world was still fighting for me, still hoping I’d make it through. So I had to keep trying. The intern was still desperately trying to reach Nathan Chase. My attending physician and the hospital’s top specialists were working side by side, leaving no room for error. The media broadcasted the emergency, and soon, many generous donors with RH-negative blood came to the hospital to give. Bag after bag of blood plasma was pumped into my body, and the doctors wiped the sweat from their brows. “The baby’s out!” At last, the sound of a baby’s cry filled the room. But I felt my strength draining away, and my vision blurred. The attending physician shouted at me, “Don’t sleep!” “Bring the baby over so the mother can see!” I forced my eyes open and smiled at the small, slightly blue baby. She was so beautiful, soft and sweet, just like Nathan must have looked when he was born. The intern suddenly raised his phone in excitement. “Dr. Chase just called! We got through!” The crisis wasn’t over yet, but my attending physician looked like she’d grabbed a lifeline. “Did you hear that? Your husband’s on the phone. Hang in there!” They put the call on speaker, and Nathan’s frantic, angry voice filled the operating room. “Emily, where’s your hospital bag? You’re not giving birth yet anyway, right? Let Tina use it.” “Oh, and the maternity nurse you hired, can Tina use her first? She had an early delivery and doesn’t have time to find a reliable one.” Boom. The last bit of hope I had collapsed. I felt the final sliver of strength leave my body. The attending physician frowned and had the intern hold the phone to her. “Dr. Chase, your wife has had a severe amniotic fluid embolism. She’s in critical condition. Your expertise is needed urgently to save her.” The line went dead. “He hung up! Is he out of his mind? His own wife is dying, and he’s worried about someone else’s maternity nurse?” “What kind of ‘renowned doctor’ is this? He’s nothing but a heartless jerk!” Their voices were loud. Even I couldn’t help but laugh. And in that fleeting moment, all hope drowned beneath the waves of despair, swallowing my last breath of consciousness. “Critical!” “The patient’s oxygen levels are plummeting. Contact the blood bank for more plasma, immediately!” In an instant, my once-stable vitals began to nosedive. Maternal instinct told me not to give up, but I simply couldn’t hold on any longer. Beep— “August 20th, 2024, at 2:21 p.m., patient Emily Perkins, declared dead.”

I… died? I couldn’t believe it. I wanted to reach down and cradle my baby, but my hands passed right through her tiny body. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t hold her. I couldn’t feel her warmth. All I could do was watch as my hands kept slipping through her over and over again. The death of a mother during childbirth is a big deal for any hospital. As they wheeled my body out of the operating room, my attending physician ran into another doctor from the neighboring surgery room. Seeing the white sheet covering my body, Dr. Lee sighed in sympathy. “That’s strange, wasn’t Dr. Chase’s wife just next door, undergoing a routine C-section? We could’ve handled that easily. Why didn’t he come to assist you?” “He’s the authority in these kinds of cases! Could it be that, because his wife was giving birth, he didn’t want to step in and help save lives?” Before Dr. Lee could finish, the intern interrupted, frustrated. “Dr. Lee, the woman under this sheet is Dr. Chase’s wife, Emily Perkins.” Dr. Lee chuckled. “I’ve worked with Nathan for so long. You think I don’t know who his wife is? His wife is Tina Lewis. How could this be Emily?” Still grappling with the loss of the patient, the intern lost her patience, her tone exasperated. “Why would we lie to you? This is Dr. Chase’s wife. It’s on her medical records.” Dr. Lee froze, then slapped his forehead in disbelief. “You’re joking, right? Dr. Chase’s wife… dead?” The only response was the cold, silent body beneath the white sheet. … After I died, Nathan Chase couldn’t be reached by phone. But his mother, Gloria, showed up at the hospital. “The mother didn’t make it… I’m so sorry for your loss,” the nurse informed her quietly. “But she gave birth to a healthy baby girl. Five pounds, three ounces…” Before the nurse could finish, Gloria frowned and walked off to call Nathan. “Your wife gave birth. It’s a useless girl,” she snapped into the phone. “That’s fine. I told you she’d be alright.” “Oh, by the way, Mom, I gave her hospital bag to Tina. I also sent the maternity nurse Emily hired to help Tina. You know, Tina’s all alone and needs someone by her side.” “Fine, fine. I got it,” Gloria huffed. “Mom, can you stay at the hospital and look after her for me?” There was a long pause on the other end of the line. Nathan pressed on, “Mom, I’ll pay you. A thousand dollars a week.” Hearing that, Gloria finally relented. “Your wife doesn’t need anyone looking after her. She’s fine. An athlete’s body can’t be that fragile.” “She heard that you sent her nurse away. Now she’s saying she wants to go abroad to recover after childbirth, something about it being quicker and better. Someone’s already arranged to pick her up.” I couldn’t understand why Gloria would say that. Nathan didn’t give it much thought either. “Whatever. Let her go wherever she wants.” Listening to his dismissive tone, I began to wonder: if he knew I’d died on the operating table, how would he react? Would he feel even a twinge of sadness? From the other end of the line, I heard Tina’s soft voice: “Nathan, do you think Emily’s mad at me?” “I had you come stay with me, and Betty’s here helping look after my son. You know, I’m all alone right now…” “I didn’t mean to bother you. I don’t want to cause any trouble for Emily…” “Who cares about her? Your priority is to recover. Don’t worry about anything else. And anyway, she’s an athlete. She’ll be fine.”

No sooner had those words left his mouth than a blinding light flashed before my eyes. I looked up and saw several of Nathan’s colleagues walking into Tina’s room, holding various gifts. Even someone meeting Nathan for the first time could easily read his emotions. Tina Lewis, his former classmate, was the unattainable goddess of his youth. He never had the courage to confess his feelings for her, but he made sure the world knew he adored her. Had it not been for that school reunion I attended with him, I never would have known just how low Nathan Chase could stoop for her. In front of Tina, he was always humble, almost worshipful. At that reunion, his college roommates teased the recently divorced Tina, saying, “Tina, you’ve had a rough patch, but if you’d accepted Nathan Chase’s proposal back in the day, you’d be the one standing next to the top OB-GYN in Downtown General Hospital right now. There wouldn’t be room for anyone else.” And I, the “someone else,” could only stand quietly, becoming invisible in the crowd. His old friends all seemed to hate me, as though I had come between Nathan and Tina. If it weren’t for me, their beloved “goddess” would’ve been his wife by now. Nathan didn’t seem to mind them thinking that either. After that reunion, Nathan started giving me the silent treatment. He claimed he was too busy with work and only came home once a week. Eventually, he even skipped all my prenatal appointments. Meanwhile, his face appeared frequently in Tina’s social media posts. She called him her “perfect mentor,” and they appeared as close as ever. Whenever people misunderstood their relationship, Tina always smiled and shrugged, neither denying nor rejecting it. It was like she welcomed the confusion. In that way, she and Nathan were eerily similar. People mistook Tina for his wife, and Nathan seemed to like it that way. Naturally, this led to fights between us. Nathan defended himself, saying, “The truth will reveal itself. I don’t need to prove anything. Stop trying to control who I’m friends with.” He was always so insecure when it came to Tina. Just a hint of attention from her, and he was wagging his tail like a puppy. But with me, he acted as if he was my best option, the only one I had. Before the baby, I had been so dependent on him, and now, with the baby, it was even harder to leave. He knew that, and it only made him more reckless, more arrogant. So, he wasn’t afraid of losing me. Not even if I died. At four in the afternoon, after what must have been a busy day for him, he finally thought to call me. But I would never answer again. Once. Twice. Three times… As the phone automatically disconnected for the third time, Nathan’s face twisted into an irritated scowl. “Why are you just standing there? Tina’s asking for you!” “What happened to Tina?” He responded as if by reflex, rushing off toward the private ward at full speed the moment he heard her name. Inside the room, Tina was chatting happily with Nathan’s hospital colleagues. One of the young nurses spoke up, “Mrs. Chase, you’re so lucky. You don’t know how worried Dr. Chase was when you were in labor. Even when they called him about another woman with amniotic fluid embolism, he refused to leave your side and insisted on finishing your stitches.” Tina didn’t correct her. She just smiled, accepting the “Mrs. Chase” title without protest. “He was just nervous…” Just then, my attending physician and Dr. Lee, who had assisted Nathan, burst into the room: “Nathan Chase, you’ve gone too far! Not only did you never clarify that Tina isn’t your wife, you’ve let your colleagues misunderstand for so long! They’ve been calling her ‘Mrs. Chase’ all this time!” Dr. Lee’s voice was filled with genuine anger. Nathan stayed silent for a long time, then finally said, “I told you to just call her Tina. You’re the ones who insisted on calling her that.” “Well, well, well. You don’t know, do you? Your wife, Emily Perkins, had amniotic fluid embolism. She didn’t make it. She’s dead!” “And here you are, still doting on Tina, not even bothering to see your wife one last time.” “You’re not even scared she’ll come back to haunt you!” Dr. Lee’s voice grew louder as he tried to push Nathan toward my room. Nathan slammed the door shut, resolute. “I don’t believe it. You’re all in on this, trying to trick me.” “She was the one who chased after me for years. I finally gave her my last name, so there’s no way she’d just leave like that.” He laughed bitterly. “She’s not like Tina. Tina’s always had health issues, but Emily? She’s an athlete. Amniotic fluid embolism is nothing to someone like her.” Dr. Lee couldn’t help but laugh in disbelief. “You’re a gynecologist, and you don’t know how dangerous amniotic fluid embolism is?” “Last year, we lost a patient in perfect physical shape to the same thing!” “Your wife was RH-negative. You know how risky that is, don’t you?”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “294608”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster #浪漫Romance #玄幻Fantsy #狼人werewolf #擦边Steamy #励志Inspiring #现实主义Realistic #校园School #后宫Harem #重生Reborn #魔幻Magic #惊悚Thriller

I Accidentally Group Messaged My Hotel Room Number to My Seven Boyfriends Right now, seven men are crowded at my hotel room door, glaring at each other furiously. Some saw me as a replacement for their lost love. Others saw me as just another conquest. The one thing they had in common? They each gave me $50,000 a month. I was the plaything of six men. For three months, they toyed with my feelings, humiliated my dignity, and exhausted my body. And all I got out of it was a measly million dollars. I was tired. I decided to pull one last con, then block them all and go back to my hometown to get married. As I was packing my bags, boyfriend number one, Henry Thompson, messaged me saying his dad wanted to meet me. He was being pressured by his family to get married and always used me as an excuse. He’d use me and toss me aside, throwing money in my face, saying I shouldn’t get any ideas – he’d never be with someone as low-class as me. How charming. I loved guys like that. Riding my bicycle, I arrived at the restaurant and saw our reserved table. I spotted him from behind. Fully committing to the act, I snuck up behind him and gently hugged him. I whispered in his ear: “Baby, I’ve missed you so much.” I even nibbled his earlobe for good measure. The strong body in my arms shuddered. “Lucy, I’m over here.” A cold voice spoke from beside me. “The person you’re hugging… is my dad…” Now it was my turn to shudder. Face blindness. I’d hugged the wrong person. I quickly let go of his dad, apologizing profusely: “I’m so sorry sir! I didn’t realize!” His dad’s ears were turning red as he tried to keep a straight face, but his eyes were unfocused: “It’s… it’s fine!” I put on my most charming smile: “You look so young sir, exactly like Henry! I… I couldn’t tell the difference…” His dad was clearly flattered, fighting back a smile as he turned away: “R-really?” I nodded vigorously: “Absolutely! Sitting next to Henry, you two could be brothers! Anyone would be confused!” His dad couldn’t hold back his grin anymore: “Young people these days are so flattering…” Henry couldn’t take it anymore and glared at me: “Shut up!” I obediently closed my mouth and sat down next to him. “Dad, this is my girlfriend, Lucy Evans,” he said halfheartedly, taking my hand. “So please stop trying to set me up with other girls!” His dad straightened his collar, instinctively blurting out: “She seems nice…” But then he remembered his mission and put on a stern face: “She’s not good enough for you!” “Sir, we truly love each other,” I said, gripping Henry’s hand tightly. “I’ll take good care of Henry for the rest of my life.” His dad pulled out a card from his Hermès bag and tossed it in front of me. “$500,000. Leave my son!” “Dad, Lucy would never leave me for a mere $500,000,” Henry said confidently, glancing at me with a smirk. “She’s madly in love with me. Even when I treat her like a dog, calling her whenever I want and tossing her aside, she still clings to me. How could $500,000 possibly…” “I accept!” I snatched up the card and tucked it away. Then, facing Henry’s murderous glare, I said seriously: “Henry, I know I’m not good enough for you. I’ve always felt insecure… You’re always calling me poor, calling me low-class…” Henry froze, his angry expression suddenly tinged with guilt. He hurriedly tried to explain: “I… I was just joking around. I’ve never actually looked down on you. I…” I cut him off, wiping away nonexistent tears: “I know you’re a good guy. Maybe we’re just… not meant to be…” I clutched the card in my pocket and slowly stood up: “Henry, I hope you find someone better… Goodbye.” He reached out, trying to grab me: “Don’t go…” If I didn’t leave now, what if his dad changed his mind? I ran out of there like a bat out of hell.

As I was happily riding my bike, fingering the new credit card and daydreaming about how excited my mom would be back home, a Ferrari pulled up next to me. “Lucy, wait a second.” The window rolled down. It was Henry’s dad. Crap, did he change his mind? I started pedaling furiously. Damn, I couldn’t outrun a Ferrari. “Lucy, why are you running? I… I haven’t told you the PIN for the card yet!” Oh, right! I stopped, and he got out of the car, standing in front of me. “841012,” he said, eyes downcast and face slightly red for some reason. “It’s my birthday. Can you remember it?” Before I could respond, he added: “Or… we could exchange SnapChat info and I’ll send it to you…” I felt obligated to agree, so I obediently added him. “My name is Harrison Thompson. Could you… save it in your contacts?” he asked, seeming conflicted. Something felt off about him. “How do I spell it?” I asked. “I’ll write it for you.” He reached out with his long, elegant fingers and gently took my hand. Using his warm fingertip, he slowly traced out each letter on my palm. He kept his head down, leaning in close. The collar of his suit fluttered in the breeze. A gust of wind brought the scent of his cologne! It was faint, but distinctly masculine! My heart suddenly started racing. Shocking – he was wearing men’s cologne! Damn, he was smooth! Alarm bells started ringing in my head. The dad of a bad guy was probably no saint either. I needed to be on guard. I pulled my hand back and responded coldly: “Got it.” But he seemed somewhat anxious: “I’ve been divorced for a long time. I raised Henry as a single father. You know, many times, at night, all alone… You’re single now too, so maybe… maybe we could just chat sometime…” I waved him off: “We’ll see.” I had ridden about halfway home when it suddenly started pouring rain. My phone rang. Boyfriend number two. He said he was drunk and needed me to pick him up. I sighed. Might as well break up with him today too. When I arrived at the karaoke bar, drenched from the rain, I opened the door to find him with an arm around two models, laughing it up with his rich friends. “See? I told you she’s like a loyal dog. All I have to do is call and she comes running.” One of his friends smirked at me: “Is she really that obedient? Hey sweetheart, take off your clothes. Let’s see those abs.” I immediately teared up, gritting my teeth: “I’m a human being. How can you humiliate me like this…” He grinned smugly: “She only listens to me.” His friend said: “I’ll give you $1500 to take off one item of clothing.” I promptly tossed my sock at him: “Sure thing, boss. That’ll be $3000.” No way I was passing up easy money. I took out my contacts too – another $3000. But he got upset, jumping up to grab my hand as I reached for my hair tie. His eyes were red: “You’d sell your body for a few thousand dollars?” My mom was sick and needed a huge sum for medical bills. If you’d just give me the money, I’d sell my body, sell a kidney, whatever it took. I wiped away a tear: “I know you’re tired of me. Let’s just consider this our last meeting. Let’s break up…” He was the one who humiliated me, yet he was the one getting upset. Made no sense. With a loud crash, he smashed his wine glass on the ground and pulled out several wads of cash, throwing them in my face. “Lucy Evans, you think you can break up with me? You’re nothing but a dog to me!” He’d always had a bit of a sadistic streak. He roughly pinned me to the couch, his long fingers wrapping around my throat. I didn’t understand why he was rewarding me. But I channeled my inner actress and let a few tears fall: “I’m sick. I’m dying…” He froze for a moment, his expression cycling through a range of emotions. His lips trembled as he struggled to speak. His eyes were filled with pain. “Lucy… I…” “You should drink less. It’s bad for your health,” I cut him off, bending down to pick up the money piece by piece. “After I’m gone, Gabriel Mitchell, take care of yourself…” He was stunned for a moment, then blinked: “Who’s Gabriel Mitchell?” Me: …… Crap! I mixed up his name with boyfriend number three! While Gabriel was still processing, I grabbed the money and made a run for it. Behind me, I heard Gabriel’s furious voice: “Lucy Evans! I won’t forget this!!!” Whatever, it was my last con anyway. Once I went back to my hometown, how would he ever find me?

The saying goes: if you act like a loyal dog long enough, you’ll eventually get everything. I happily ran out of the karaoke bar, about to go find my bike, when I unexpectedly bumped into a tall figure. What a coincidence – boyfriend number three, Lucas Wilson. His pale skin made him stand out in a crowd, and his handsome face always seemed somewhat aloof. But right now he was tightly gripping a woman’s arm, his voice choked with tears: “Why did you lie to me?! What did I do wrong? Why did you go find other men…” The woman shoved him to the ground: “You’re so annoying. If it weren’t for your money, who the hell would want to date a little boy like you?” Lucas fell to the ground, mud splattering all over him. He didn’t cry or speak, just stared at her intensely. I rushed over and kicked the woman, sending her stumbling back into several bicycles. “Well well, so you’re the new little girl he found? I didn’t realize you were so loyal.” She got up, ready to come argue with me. Boyfriend number four was a muscle freak who always forced me to lift weights with him. As a girl, I wasn’t too worried about taking on another woman. I easily restrained her arms and shoved her away again before letting her leave. Lucas was still crouched on the ground staring at the sky. I sighed and bent down to help him up. But he slapped my hand away: “I don’t need your help! You think I’ll like you if you do this? Who asked you to interfere?! Just go away!” Ungrateful brat. I remembered the first time I met him. He tossed me a card: “Be my girlfriend. I’ll give you $50,000 a month. You in?” I was stunned: “Huh?” The boy looked extremely impatient: “Are you deaf?” I suspected he might be a human trafficker, trying to lure in naive, innocent girls like me. But my poor body couldn’t resist taking the card. I heard my mouth moving on its own: “Baby.” “Good girl.” He nodded in satisfaction, grabbing my hand and smirking at the girl chasing after him, “See? Even if you don’t like me, plenty of others do. $50,000 – I’d give that to a stray dog before I’d give it to you!” Not only was I not offended, I chimed in: “That’s right!” He just gave me $50,000 out of nowhere – he could call me a dog if he wanted. Hell, I’d bark a few times if that’s what he wanted. The girl’s face darkened as she gritted her teeth: “You’d stoop so low as to be with that kind of cheap girl? Does she deserve $50,000?” The boy was clearly annoyed and immediately transferred another $50,000 to my account: “She’s worth whatever I say she’s worth. Who are you to question it?” I looked at that girl with tears in my eyes. There’s kindness everywhere in this world. What a good person – want to insult me some more? After that, I became Lucas’s go-to tool for pissing off ex-girlfriends. Whenever he broke up with someone, I’d stride over shamelessly to collect my payment. The more insults I got, the more money I made. It was awesome!

But I was planning to break up with all of them today, so naturally I didn’t have a friendly expression. “Oh, goodbye then.” I turned to leave. But he grabbed my leg. “Lucy, are you… are you abandoning me too?” He sat on the ground, looking lost and deeply hurt. I sighed and slowly crouched down. His eyes lit up for a moment: “I knew it. Only you, Lucy…” SLAP I smacked him across the face. He was stunned. “Are you fucking brain-dead? Is dating all you can think about?” I finally vented all my pent-up frustration, laying into him: “For fuck’s sake, you go through 31 girlfriends in a 30-day month. Haven’t you been scammed enough? That lovesick brain of yours is so rotten even zombies wouldn’t eat it!” “And how old are you anyway? An 18-year-old little boy dyeing his hair blond – you think that looks good? And those clothes – I can practically see up to your thighs. If you weren’t a guy, people would think you were working the street corner!” “You’re so young but you’re not focusing on anything good. Running off to nightclubs with women in the middle of the night – have you finished your homework? What are your test scores? Do you even remember Newton’s laws?” “Your poor parents were so unlucky to have such a wasteful brat!” My tirade left him completely dumbfounded. He forgot to cry and just stared at me with his big eyes. After a long while, he finally stammered: “Lucy, you’re so mean… You’ve never yelled at me before…” “Just looking at you pisses me off.” I stood up, about to walk away. “Let’s not see each other anymore…” “I’m sorry…” Unbelievably, an apology came out of his mouth. “Don’t leave me, please…” He hugged me from behind, pressing his body tightly against my back. “My… my parents got divorced. They just give me money but never pay attention to me…” Lucas choked up. “From now on… will you look after me?” His voice was like a helpless kitten, pitifully hard to refuse. “It’s… it’s late. You should go home,” I said, my throat feeling dry. “I need to find a hotel…” “Then I’ll come too…” he said. I kept reminding myself not to trust men’s lies. All men in this world are terrible, always taking advantage of innocent, honest girls like me. But my mouth moved on its own, just like when I first met him: “Okay.”

Lucas held my hand as we walked into a hotel together. “Why is your face so red? Did you catch a cold in the rain? Do you have a fever?” I asked. “N-no fever,” he said. His face was bright red as he avoided the receptionist’s eyes. The hand I was holding was drenched in sweat. “So, I’ll book a room then,” I said, also feeling nervous. “Should I get… two beds or… or one big…?” Steam seemed to be rising from his damp head as he looked down in a panic: “Y-you choose! I… I need to step outside for a bit!” With that, he ran out like a startled rabbit. He was still such a naive, easily fooled boy when it came to love. As an upstanding person, I certainly wouldn’t take advantage of him. So I took a deep breath and righteously told the receptionist: “One king bed, please. If he asks, make sure to say it was the only room left!” The receptionist gave me an “ok” sign with a knowing look. … After showering and changing into a bathrobe in the room, I lay on the bed feeling a bit nervous. But over an hour passed and he still hadn’t returned. Damn it! I knew I couldn’t trust men’s lies! But I still couldn’t help sending him a message: “Where did you go?” A second later, he video called me. On the screen, Lucas was clearly in a hair salon. His hair had been dyed back to black, revealing a pure, sunny face that looked quite youthful. “Lucy, do you… do you like me better this way?” he asked shyly. He kept his head down, his face still flushed. He was just… illegally cute! I nodded vigorously. “Then… then I’ll head back now,” he said, brushing his hair to reveal a glimpse of his pale neck. “What’s the… the room number?” As soon as he finished speaking, he got too embarrassed and quickly ended the video call. I wiped the drool from the corner of my mouth, rushed out to check the room number, and hurriedly sent it to him. Lying back on the bed, I started examining the little items on the nightstand, debating whether to try one out first. Yes, I, at the ripe old age of 26, was encountering these for the first time. How embarrassing. But before even 10 minutes had passed, there was a knock at the door. I jumped up and ran to open it with a giddy smile: “How did you get here so fas…” Halfway through my sentence, my smile froze on my face. Why was it… Gabriel? “I was in the area and got your message, so I came over,” Gabriel said with a cold smirk, looking down at me. “Why aren’t you smiling anymore? Is the cancer flaring up, making it hard to smile?” His icy gaze looked like he wanted to kill me. I gulped and silently picked up my phone. A string of new message notifications with red dots lit up the screen. Help! I had accidentally group messaged the hotel room number! To a list called “One Big Happy Family”… With exactly seven people in it.

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In the fifth year of my marriage to James Carson, a shadow fell over my once-comfortable life. A young, beautiful assistant appeared by his side, her presence like an unspoken threat, unraveling everything I had built. But that was nothing compared to the cruel twist of fate that awaited me—I had entered the final countdown of my life. I was dying. I had to seek revenge. Life is full of regrets, and I simply had more than most. Leaving the doctor’s office, I took a picture of my medical report and sent it to James. His reply came quickly. “Baby, I have a business trip today, so I’ll be home late. Get some rest early.” He didn’t even glance at the report I sent him. Remembering the doctor’s words, I wanted to cry, to let it all out, but realized I had forgotten how to cry. “The situation isn’t good. You should be admitted for treatment… at most, six months.” The doctor’s words felt like a verdict, freezing my life at age 25.

James didn’t come home that night. Six months ago, I found out he had a “canary” — a girl he was hiding in an apartment right across from Carson Corp. Tower. He thought I didn’t know about his affair, but his little canary was far from subtle, flaunting her “perfect” life all over Instagram, almost daring me to notice. It all started when an unknown number added me on WhatsApp, claiming to be Lily Moore, James’s assistant. I rarely left the house and barely contacted anyone from his work. I didn’t even have the phone number of James’s long-time secretary. So, an assistant having my contact? That was suspicious on its own. As expected, Lily’s Instagram was full of photos with James—traveling together, skiing together, having dinner together… None of them were overly intimate, but the chemistry was palpable in every shot. Afterward, I ordered all my favorite dishes for myself, indulging in the feast alone. Was I heartbroken? Maybe once, but my body couldn’t afford the luxury of dwelling on meaningless heartbreak. “Madam, shall I make you some soup for nourishment?” Mrs. Turner, who had cared for me for years, looked at me with concern as I devoured the meal. “No, thank you. I just want to enjoy a good meal. One won’t hurt.” I gave Mrs. Turner a six-month leave, with full pay. I’m an odd person—I crave attention, but when it’s given, I never know how to handle it. At the end of my life, I just wanted to slip away quietly, alone.

“Baby, wake up. I made breakfast. Have some before you go back to sleep.” James always had this way of being gentle, like he could melt you with his touch, no matter how high the walls around your heart were. “When did you get back?” I masked all my thoughts and spoke to him as usual. “Got home at six this morning. Where’s Mrs. Turner? Did she take the day off?” He laid out my clothes and tidied the bed with care. He followed me into the bathroom, squeezing toothpaste onto my brush while I got ready. After my shower, he was waiting with a towel to dry me off, even blow-drying my hair. Could a man this attentive really be unfaithful? I had asked myself this question countless times. “Mrs. Turner had some personal matters, so I gave her a six-month break.” “Should we hire another caretaker? I don’t like the idea of you being home alone.” James’s eyes never left me, his gaze soft and tender, pulling me in. But the faint scent of women’s perfume lingering in the air reminded me of just how deceptive James had become. “No need. It’s only for six months. I was thinking of traveling to Europe anyway.” “Europe? Is your health up for that? What did the doctors say yesterday?” James’s worry seemed genuine as he took my hand and kept asking. His concern wasn’t fake. I searched his face for any signs of pretense, but I found none. Could love be this well acted? “The results are the same. But you know how much I’ve always wanted to see Europe—castles, scenery, it’ll do me good.” “Alright, baby. I’m sorry I can’t go with you, I’m just too busy. Take lots of photos, okay? And please, hire a caretaker to look after you.” James visibly relaxed as he said this. “Yeah, I will.” James kept talking as I quietly ate breakfast, saying little in return. I was too scared to slip, too afraid I might blurt out the truth, afraid I’d lose the last bit of composure I had. When I first discovered his affair, I had already thought of revenge. Divorce? I didn’t have time for that. I wasn’t going to waste what was left of my life on something so pointless. Whether I divorced him or not didn’t change a thing. Who cares what you’re called after you’re gone? No, the only thing I could do was ruin his reputation, make the scandal explode. That seemed to be the only power I still held. With James, he always did most of the talking. Maybe it had to do with my upbringing—I wasn’t much of a talker, but I loved listening to him. I never went to school, so James hired a tutor just for me. Back then, after his classes, he’d run over to my house, grade my homework, and go over my progress. He would ramble on about everything that happened at school—who got bullied, who was annoying, who tattled on someone. With him around, my life seemed so full. Even now, after work, he would recount his entire day, tell me what he ate, what meetings he attended, who he met, and even send me videos and pictures. It was this James Carson that made me believe in our love for so long. “Baby, guess what this is?” James slid an elegantly wrapped box toward me. “What is it? A gift?” In that moment, I forgot about his affair, instinctively reacting with curiosity, wondering what was inside. I opened the box—it was an evening gown designed by James himself. Light green, my favorite color. A color full of life. I didn’t go out much, and my skin was pale. James used to say that when I wore green, I looked like a little fawn in the woods. I put on the dress, did a simple makeup look, and called a photography team to the house to take tons of beautiful photos. James was in some of the pictures too. Today, James didn’t leave the house. We spent the day painting and watching movies together. It felt like we had gone back to the way things used to be. We had endless conversations and shared so much. That night, after my shower, I found James waiting for me in bed. I hesitated for a moment, thinking of what the private investigator had uncovered. James and Lily hadn’t taken things that far yet. Just for tonight—one last night with the man who had once loved me so deeply. Because of my health, we hadn’t been intimate much. But that night, James held me close, his gentle kisses falling all over me. I had always restrained myself, wanting to live longer, but tonight I indulged. It was a goodbye, a final release. Afterward, James carefully cleaned me up, holding me as we fell asleep. “James.” I wanted to ask him about Lily. “Hmm? What is it, baby? Are you uncomfortable? Let me massage you.” His large hand rested on my lower back, gently kneading. He was so tender. I couldn’t understand it anymore. “James, if you don’t love me anymore, please tell me. I’ll leave without making a fuss.” In the end, I couldn’t bring myself to ask him about the affair. Maybe I didn’t want to lose this last moment of tenderness. “Anna, I love you. I’ve always loved you. It’s been over ten years, and nothing’s changed. Wherever you are, that’s where my home is. I can’t even imagine my life without you.” James held me tighter. That night, I didn’t sleep well. The moonlight filtered through the curtains, illuminating James’s face. At 30, he still looked young, but his features were more defined than before. Tracing the contours of his face, I mentally said goodbye to my youth. Back when I used to read novels, whenever I came across stories of men cheating, I’d wonder how I’d react if my own husband did the same. Would I lose my mind? Would I become hysterical, unable to let go? But in reality, from the moment I found out about James’s affair, I was calm. No anger, no drama. It felt like all the energy had been drained out of me. All I wanted was to get away from this place.

James was supposed to take me to the airport, but he left after taking a phone call. I found a seat by the window, watching the bustling crowds when a young woman approached me. I had never seen her before, but I knew instantly who she was—Lily Moore, James’s little “canary.” Lily reached out her hand. “Hi, I’m Lily Moore. I’d like to talk to you about James.” I didn’t shake her hand. I didn’t have the strength, and frankly, the thought of touching her made me feel dirty. I turned on the voice recorder on my phone and motioned for her to sit across from me. “Go ahead, have a seat. I have a flight to catch, so you’ve got twenty minutes.” I studied the young girl closely—pretty, cute, radiating youth. It wasn’t hard to see why James liked her. Hell, even I could see the appeal. Years of medication had left me feeling like an old woman. “Anna Stevens, you know I’m with James now. Why haven’t you divorced him? He says he doesn’t love you. A loveless, sexless marriage—what’s the point?” Too young, too bold. She ruined her pretty face the moment she opened her mouth. “You’re the third woman to come to me with this story. All of you say James doesn’t love me, that you’re his one true love, and all of you beg me to leave him. If you’re so close to him, why not ask James to divorce me instead?” Lily’s face flashed with disbelief, but she quickly tried to regain her composure. “James is an adult. He can decide for himself whether he loves you or not, and if he wants to stay with you.” “You’re lying. James is with me all the time. There’s no way he’s seeing anyone else.” I wasn’t lying, though. Back in college, there was a girl who came to me, asking me to let James go. After James started at Carson Corp., another woman, arranged by his parents, tried to get between us. And now Lily Moore was the third. “James tells me the same thing—that he only loves me, that there’s no one else. Now, who should I believe?” I found a strange sense of amusement in this, watching Lily’s expressions shift from shock to anger. It was entertaining, really. “You’re doing this on purpose. You refuse to divorce him so that our relationship can’t be public. Well, you won’t win.” She spat out her words and instinctively placed a protective hand over her stomach. Was this supposed to provoke me? I knew for a fact James hadn’t slept with her yet, so whose baby was she carrying? “You’re here because James wouldn’t agree to divorce me, aren’t you? I bet you’ve cried, screamed, done everything to try and hold onto him. That’s why you got pregnant, right?” “But Miss Moore, you seem to have forgotten—people in our circle keep mistresses all the time. Don’t like one? They’ll just find another. It’s cleaner than hiring a prostitute, and they don’t have to worry about catching something.” Watching Lily’s face darken brought a surprising sense of relief to my troubled mind. “But none of these canaries ever make it into the house.” I looked her over, carefully evaluating the young woman sitting before me. “You know why?” I pointed at her head. “Because they’re too stupid. Beautiful, stupid toys you can play with, but no man in his right mind would bring one home to ruin the family.” The display of emotions on her face was truly fascinating. “James told me you can’t have children. The Carson family would never let you keep the title of Mrs. Carson. You’re going to be thrown out sooner or later.” Her voice shook with rage. “With today’s technology, James and I could have a child whenever we want. We could even select the best genes for the smartest baby. If you want to trade your womb for your future, that’s your business. But I doubt any illegitimate child of yours will ever enter the Carson home.” She wasn’t wrong—I couldn’t have children. But when we got married, we had agreed to use surrogacy by the time I turned 30. “Oh, by the way, are you sure the baby’s James’s? You can do a DNA test at three months, you know.” “You…!” Lily trembled with anger and stormed off in a huff. So, the baby wasn’t James’s after all. Still too young, not nearly enough experience to stand her ground. I saved the voice recording on my phone and went over to the airport café to request footage from their security cameras. If I was going to fight back, I needed to do it right.

I made it to Switzerland and got in touch with one of the few friends I had left. “This hospice is really nice. It’s close to my house, and aside from being a bit pricey, it’s perfect.” Chloe Davis hadn’t changed one bit. “Anna, are you really not planning to return to New York?” Chloe didn’t understand my choice. Chloe had immigrated to escape her family’s burdens, but she still had a house in the city and had even bought a burial plot. She always said she couldn’t die abroad. I smiled, reaching out to ruffle her hair like I used to when we were kids. Still soft and fluffy. “You know there’s no one left in New York for me to see. Just like you, leaving was the only way to truly live.” “What about you and James…?” She trailed off, unsure how to continue. Chloe wasn’t stupid. She could easily piece together what had happened—when someone dying of a terminal illness chooses not to come home, it doesn’t take much to figure out why. “He cheated. His mistress is pregnant. I’m not even sure if it’s his, but they’ve been involved for months. I ran into her just before my flight.” I didn’t know how I managed to say these words out loud. Once, the idea of exposing my wounds terrified me. But now, I could say it with ease. “Anna, you stay here and rest. I’ve taken a long leave from work. I’ll be here with you.” Chloe pulled me into her arms. Had she started working out? Her embrace felt so strong, so warm.

I rested for two days, mostly because my body couldn’t handle much more than that. I had started eating less—more of what I put in was coming back out. I was relying on IVs to keep me alive. Meanwhile, I contacted a hacker and the private investigator back home. “What’s the latest update?” I asked the investigator I had hired after discovering James’s affair. “We’ve been following them closely. I’ve sent all the footage to your email. Oh, and there’s some drama—Miss Moore caused a scene at the Carson home, throwing a fit because of the pregnancy.” “Upload everything. All the evidence, especially the videos. Make sure it goes viral—buy trending spots, pay social media trolls, whatever it takes to keep it in the public eye for at least a week. Don’t worry about the cost. I’m dying; how much more can I really spend?” “Miss Stevens, there’s also an audio recording. Would you like to hear it?” The investigator’s normally casual tone had turned serious. “Send it to my email.” Curiosity won out in the end. I knew it wouldn’t be anything good, but I still wanted to listen.

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In the dead of night, I was jolted awake by the vibration of my phone, my body burning with fever. The voice on the other end was one I’d never forget – it was my daughter calling! But that was impossible. My daughter had died three years ago! Receiving a call from my daughter, I suddenly sat up in bed, my bare feet touching the cold floor. “Lily, is it really you? It’s Mom.” The phone crackled with static, but soon my daughter’s voice became clearer. “Mom, didn’t we just pay the electricity bill yesterday? Why is there suddenly a power outage? I’m so scared. Mom, where are you? Please come back quickly.” It was my daughter’s voice! There was no mistake! Wait a minute! A power outage? My heart suddenly contracted, and my breathing became rapid. Three years ago, on the day my daughter passed away, there was an unexplained power outage in our apartment building. My daughter was killed at home, waiting for me to return until her last breath. But I couldn’t go back because I was working overtime on a crucial project. I told her to use a flashlight and wait at home, and I called my husband to go back. Lily was only twelve, enjoying her perfect vacation. I had promised to take her to Disneyland, but all that awaited was her cold body. I pinched myself hard, feeling the pain distinctly. I didn’t know what was happening, and I couldn’t believe I was dreaming. I didn’t care who was on the other end of the phone, but I couldn’t let her get hurt. “Lily, lock the front door and hide in Mom’s bedroom. Get under the bed, cover yourself with the panel, and don’t open the door for anyone!” The master bedroom’s bed was custom-designed. The space underneath was hollow for easy cleaning, with a panel to cover it. From the outside, it looked like a solid bed touching the floor. I heard rustling sounds on the other end, and after a while, my daughter asked in a low voice, “Should I not open the door even if it’s you or Dad knocking?” I couldn’t take any chances. I had to nip any evil in the bud. “Dad and I have keys, Lily. Don’t worry. Mom will find a way to get back soon.” “Okay, Mom. I’ll wait for you to come back.” Lily told me the time on her end was ten minutes to 3 AM. I remembered that my daughter’s autopsy report showed her time of death as 3 AM. I instructed Lily not to speak and to dim her phone’s screen. I felt my forehead, which was burning like a small furnace. However, my palms and back were covered in cold sweat. I fumbled around the nightstand for fever and pain medication while thinking about how to resolve this crisis. If my daughter from three years ago could call me, could I also call myself from three years ago? But Lily’s smartwatch was set to only make calls and send text messages. If I hung up now and called back later, it would make a sound! Communicating via text would be too slow! So, I could only try to text my past self and my husband from three years ago, urging them to rush home and save our daughter. In the silent air, only the intermittent breathing of my daughter and me could be heard. One minute, two minutes… Ding! Incredibly, I received a reply! I received a text from myself to myself. And three consecutive SnapChat messages from my husband. [Our daughter died three years ago!] [What are you going crazy about now!?] [Don’t run around, stay at home. I’ll be back soon.] The SnapChat message alerts went “ding ding ding.” I felt my head throbbing, the pain intensifying. What should I do? I had no way to contact my husband and myself from three years ago. How could I save my daughter? In my anxiety, I accidentally knocked over the medicine bottle on the nightstand. Instinctively reaching to catch it, I bumped the water glass. The glass tumbler crashed to the floor, making a piercing sound. Shards scattered everywhere, water dripping from the edge of the nightstand. The back of my hand was cut by flying glass fragments. But I couldn’t even feel the pain. I quickly covered the phone’s microphone, praying that nothing had been heard on the other end. But it was too late! From the other end of the phone came a man’s sinister and triumphant laugh. “Hehe, I’ve found you!” My head buzzed as if hit by a bomb! “No! Please, spare Lily!” I shouted frantically into the phone. But what came next was a sound of despair. My daughter’s screams of agony, mixed with the man’s eerie, excited laughter. Then, abruptly, both laughters ceased. The phone emitted a devastating sound. “Bzz bzz bzz…”

I couldn’t control my screams, like a lion caught in a trap. I swept everything off the nightstand, and the warm yellow lamp flickered twice before going out. The entire bedroom plunged into endless darkness. Suddenly, there was a heavy pounding on the door behind me. “What are you doing!” My husband, Jack, was back. He turned on the light, and I felt like a drowning person, struggling in the cold embrace, waiting desperately for God to save me. Jack frowned, quickly running over to hug me. At that moment, I seemed to find my anchor, believing that my daughter and I would soon be saved. I told him everything that had just happened, but Jack gripped my shoulders and shook me. “Wake up! Lily is dead! Three years ago, someone broke in to rob us, and our daughter was killed!” “I know, but just now, it was clearly Lily calling me.” I stubbornly redialed the number, wanting to prove that everything I said was true. Although our daughter had passed away, I had kept her smartwatch. I secretly kept it charged and paid the phone bill. However, when I dialed, it showed the number was not in service! The exact same number, and the service hadn’t been disconnected, how could it be out of service? I burst into tears, my eyes red as I mumbled over and over. “How can this be, it’s impossible, how can this happen…” Jack held me tightly in his arms, gently patting my back, patiently comforting me. “I’m sorry, I lost control of my temper earlier and yelled at you. Look at you, your forehead is so hot, you must have had a nightmare just now.” Then, Jack helped me lie down on the bed and brought me medicine and water. “Be good, take the cold medicine and get some sleep.” For a moment, I couldn’t tell if I had really had a nightmare or not. But the panic in my heart hadn’t lessened a bit. Because in my impression, my husband wasn’t someone who would apologize to me on his own initiative. Everything felt strange, and my head was hurting badly. I didn’t dare to defy him at the moment, so I could only obediently do as he said. “You sleep first, I’m going to the study to organize some files I need for tomorrow.” Jack said, placing a kiss on my forehead before closing the door and leaving. I quickly spat out the medicine I had been holding under my tongue, wrapped it in a tissue, and threw it in the trash. After waiting a while, I heard no movement outside. I quietly opened the jewelry box and took out my daughter’s smartwatch. It had power and an active phone plan. The number was correct too. The first three digits were the same as mine, and the last eight digits were two sets of repeated four-digit numbers, which was also Lily’s birthday. I knew it by heart, how could I possibly remember it wrong? I quickly unlocked my phone, wanting to try again. However, I discovered there were over twenty missed calls! It was my daughter’s number! I hurriedly called back, my eyes fixed on the smartwatch in the jewelry box. The pink smartwatch remained in sleep mode. The call connected! From the other end came my daughter’s faint voice. Weak, but with a noticeable crying tone. “Mom, why didn’t you answer the phone, Mom save me, save me quickly…” Then came a series of dull thuds. Heavy, muffled impacts, the sound of a blunt object striking flesh. Tears streamed down my face as I couldn’t shake the horrific image of my daughter’s condition after death. Brutally beaten with a heavy object, literally bludgeoned to death. Skull fractured, neck twisted, spine broken, her adorable face a bloody mess… I quickly opened the door and went to find Jack in the study. However, the study light was on, the door open, but no one was there. A quick glance around showed that I was the only one in the entire house. I hadn’t taken the medicine, nor had I fallen asleep, so this definitely wasn’t a dream! This was all real, my daughter from another time was calling for help! What should I do, what on earth should I do! If my death could exchange for my daughter’s life, I would jump out the window without hesitation right now. Jumping from the 27th floor, I would surely die beyond any doubt. I bit my hand hard, not daring to scream out loud. However, the killer on the other end of the phone still discovered my presence. “Heh, this bitch is actually making a phone call!” This was an unfamiliar voice! It was a woman’s voice! A thought struck me, making me suddenly hold my breath, my heart skipping a beat. There were two people who killed my daughter! “I know who you are. If you let my daughter go, I won’t pursue this matter!” Of course, I didn’t know who the killer was. This was just a delaying tactic, hoping my daughter would suffer less torture. However, the call was disconnected. I only heard Lily cry out “Mom” once. I quickly redialed, and the whole situation took a new turn. I didn’t call Jack; at a time like this, he wouldn’t believe me. He would only think I was going crazy because I couldn’t accept our daughter’s death. I called my brother, and in the short ten seconds while waiting, a thousand thoughts raced through my mind. I didn’t tell my brother what had happened, but asked him for detailed information about my daughter’s death. My brother is a detective, and he was in charge of my daughter’s case back then. To avoid unnecessary trouble, I couldn’t tell him about the cross-time phone call from my daughter three years ago asking for help. On the other end of the phone, my brother was silent for a moment. Obviously, he hesitated. But soon, without asking me why, he sent me all the relevant information. After quickly scanning a few key points, I asked my brother how many killers there were. “One… wait, why does the file say two? I remember it was one.” My brother’s confusion excited me a bit. I ended the call, my eyes full of hope. We all remembered that the killer who murdered my daughter was one person. And the initial forensic report indicated that the killer was an adult male about 6 feet tall. But now, the file showed that there were two killers. A man and a woman, working together. This meant that the cross-time phone call between my daughter and me had changed the course of events. So, could I use these cross-time calls to completely change the outcome of this whole incident? Even if the hope was slim, for my daughter’s sake, I had to try!

Excitedly, I called my husband. I wanted to ask him if he still remembered how many people killed our daughter. He would surely be like my brother, remembering it as one person. But the file showed two people. Then, I could use this to prove that the cross-time call between my daughter and me was real. However, after five or six calls, no one answered. As I was hesitating, wondering if I should go to my brother first to discuss, the seventh call was finally answered. “Hello, who is this? Don’t you let people sleep in the middle of the night? Calling twice without an answer and still keep calling, are you brain-damaged or something!” I called my husband, but a woman answered! Judging by her voice, she sounded about thirty. I was stunned, anger enveloping me, but I knew now wasn’t the time to act rashly. Because the woman yelled impatiently again. “Which bitch is calling? So annoying, interrupting people making love.” With that, the call ended. I couldn’t sit still anymore. This woman’s voice was too familiar! Especially that phrase. Bitch! The voice was identical! This was clearly the woman from the call, one of the killers who murdered my daughter! My husband was actually with one of the killers!

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Lucy and my husband’s first love were both diagnosed with cancer. As the surgery approached, my husband emptied our savings to pay for her treatment. Meanwhile, my daughter had to endure the pain without any help. He told me to be generous, reminding me that the living always take priority over the dead. But what he didn’t know was that his first love was faking it, and my daughter… she wasn’t coming back. “Mom, please don’t cry.” “Lulu doesn’t hurt, Lulu is fine.” Lucy’s pale face still managed to produce a smile, her little hand reaching up to wipe away the tears from my eyes. At the entrance of the operating room, filled with the stinging scent of antiseptics, Lucy’s arm was hooked up to several IV bags as she leaned weakly against me. “Be good, Lulu, Dad will be here any minute.” “We’ll get the surgery done soon, I promise.” Ding! My phone buzzed with a notification of a withdrawal. Lucy’s condition had suddenly deteriorated. Dr. Johnson had said the surgery couldn’t wait any longer; it had to be tonight. The surgery was expensive, and we didn’t have enough money. So I rushed Lucy to the hospital to get her registered, while Simon took my card to the bank to withdraw every penny we had. As Lucy’s clothes became soaked with cold sweat, Simon finally appeared on the hospital’s lobby monitor. I felt a surge of relief. The bank wasn’t that close to the hospital, and rush hour traffic was terrible. For Simon to make it back this quickly, I felt my eyes sting with tears. After all, he never seemed to care much for us. In situations like these, every second mattered; the sooner the surgery, the better Lucy’s chances of survival. Simon quickly finished paying and rushed toward the operating room, his face full of tension. “Daddy!” At the end of the hallway, Lucy’s eyes lit up with a brief glimmer of hope, her small hand trembling as she reached out for him. “Who’s scheduled for the surgery?” I held Lucy, ready to take the papers from Simon’s hand. Her little fingers barely touched his shirt when a gust of wind seemed to sweep him away. He walked right past us. “It’s her, doctor. It’s Becca.” Out of breath, he rushed to Rebecca Whitman. “Simon, it hurts…” Rebecca, nestled in his arms, bit her lip, her eyes welling up with tears, as delicate as an innocent little flower. Simon held her, murmuring reassurances, looking like he was in agony himself. I knew who she was—Simon’s first love. “Doctor, this must be a mistake. The surgery is for Lucy Ericson.” My heart skipped a beat, but I forced myself to speak as calmly as I could. The doctor checked the paperwork several times. “There’s no mistake, it’s for Rebecca Whitman.” From where Simon couldn’t see, Rebecca shot me a malicious glare. Her flushed cheeks made it clear she wasn’t suffering from any illness at all. With the surgery ready to begin, the doctor cleared the area. “Alright, only the patient and their family members should stay. Everyone else, please leave.”

I looked at Simon in disbelief, but he remained tense, avoiding eye contact with me the entire time. I placed Lucy on a chair and grabbed his arm. “What about the money? That was for Lucy’s surgery!” “Have you lost your mind?” Simon looked at me coldly, shaking off my hand. “I haven’t lost my mind. Becca has cancer, and the doctor said she needs surgery tonight.” “And what about our daughter?! If she doesn’t get surgery tonight, she’ll die!” I grabbed him again, shaking him desperately. Simon frowned, hesitating for a moment. “Julia Harris, stop making a scene!” “Even if you hate her, you shouldn’t curse your own daughter like that.” “We can earn more money, but Becca only has one life!” He pushed me harder this time, sending me stumbling to the ground. “You’ll regret this, Simon!” But all I was left with was the sight of his back, as cold as ice. My heart felt like it was drowning in bitterness. Tears streamed down my face, falling onto Lucy’s small cheeks. Her once-rosy face had become pale and gaunt from the sickness. “Lulu… I don’t think we can do the surgery today…” “Daddy doesn’t want us anymore.” “Mommy… Mommy…” My throat tightened, choking back sobs so much that I couldn’t even speak. “Mommy, don’t cry.” “Let’s just go home… I’m not in pain anymore.” Lucy, seeing my tear-filled eyes, tried to smile. That smile was worse than a cry. She was only five years old, too young to understand. But in that moment, I felt she understood everything. I held her close, her tiny frame so thin and fragile. I will never forget that night. “I’ll never leave you, Mommy.” “Lulu just wants Mommy to always be happy.” I can never forgive Simon. But I can’t forgive myself either.

Lucy is gone. The funeral hall was filled with sobs. The daughter I had carried for ten months and raised for five years was now just a small box. “How strange.” “Where’s her father? Why isn’t he here?” Some relatives whispered among themselves. My heart felt heavy and bitter as I took out my phone, dialing Simon’s number over and over again. But the only response was the cold sound of a machine. Finally, on the tenth try, he picked up. “What do you want, Julia?” Even though I couldn’t see him, I could hear the irritation in his hushed voice. “Simon, come see Lucy one last time…” My voice was hoarse, and he seemed surprised, but quickly returned to his usual self. Lucy had always wanted nothing more than her father’s love. So I begged him. I begged him to come to her funeral. Begged him to see her one last time. “What nonsense are you talking about?” “Stop causing trouble, Julia.” “Becca just had surgery and she needs someone with her.” “Once she’s out of the hospital, I’ll come spend time with you, okay?” His voice echoed in the room, leaving everyone in shocked silence. “Simon, please… I’m begging you… Come see Lucy.” “She’s being buried today…” I threw away all my pride and dignity, begging him on my knees. But he showed no mercy. “Julia Harris, how could you say such things about your own daughter?” I collapsed on the floor, sobbing so hard I nearly fainted. Then, I heard a soft voice: “Simon… it hurts…” Rebecca had woken up. The phone call ended with a click. Suddenly, I felt like the entire world was spinning. I faintly heard urgent voices calling out to me: “Help! Someone get help!” “Julia’s fainted!”

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My son was in a car accident on his way to school, and I watched him die slowly despite my pleas. I held the urn with his ashes in my hands, while my cheating husband finally expressed regret. I was tidying up the house as usual when I received a message that shattered me. “Ma’am, your son was in a car accident. Please come immediately!” “What?” I gasped. This morning, Alex suddenly insisted on taking Lucas to school. Lucas was thrilled. After all, Alex and I had been fighting for a week over Lucas’s school transfer. Before heading out, Lucas beamed with his innocent smile. “I love both Mommy and Daddy so much! It’s great that you’ve made up!” Little did I know that less than two hours later, Lucas would be involved in a terrible car accident. I rushed to the hospital, my mind racing as I kept calling the doctors for updates. “Your son is in critical condition. He keeps saying, ‘Mom, Dad, help me.’” I broke down in the back of the taxi, crying uncontrollably. My poor Lucas. At the hospital, I tried to enter, but Nurse Davis stopped me. “I’m sorry, ma’am. The patient’s condition has worsened. We’re trying everything we can.” I anxiously waited for the doctor’s words. Dr. Stephen informed me that a metal rod had pierced Lucas’s heart. The only way to save him was to find a heart donor or use an artificial heart. I was beside myself with grief, begging the doctor to save my son. “Sierra, your husband’s company specializes in artificial heart technology. Could you reach out to him?” Dr. Stephen suggested. That snapped me out of my fog. Alex’s company had recently developed a successful heart donor prototype, and their clinical trials had been highly successful. I immediately dialed Alex’s number. Once, twice, three times. “Hello, what… do you need?” The voice that answered was female, a familiar one. It was Jenny, Alex’s step-sister. I didn’t think much of it; she was just his step-sister, after all. “Judy, where’s Alex? I—” I started, but was cut off by the sounds on the other end of the line: the unmistakable slap of skin and moans from Judy. “Slow down… Alex, not so rough… ahh…” I heard Alex’s breathless voice. “I’m busy.” The call disconnected. It hit me then. Dr. Stephen rushed out again, asking, “Have you found a heart donor yet?” In my panic, I couldn’t think straight. I cried, offering up my own heart, but I knew it wasn’t possible. I was 30, and Lucas was only eight. My heart wouldn’t be suitable. I asked if there were any spare artificial hearts, but Dr. Stephen shook his head. “Your husband’s company controls the use of those. They need his approval, and he hasn’t signed off yet.” I kept calling Alex again and again, only to hear the automated response: “The number you are trying to reach is currently unavailable.” Desperately, I reached out to his company, but no one had the authority to activate the use of an artificial heart. Only Alex could make that call. Dr. Stephen informed me that we had only one hour left to save Lucas. If we couldn’t find a heart donor in time, my son would die. Then I remembered—Alex must still be with Jenny. I rushed over to her place. When I arrived, I was stunned to see them through the window. Alex and Jenny were in bed together, completely wrapped up in each other. Jenny, young, beautiful, and seductive, was everything I was not. Her soft skin glowed as Alex moved on top of her. I, on the other hand, had grown older, worn down by the endless chores and responsibilities of our household. Alex was cheating on me—with his own step-sister, Jenny. “Why don’t we go to your place? Isn’t it more thrilling to sneak around there?” Jenny moaned. “That old hag’s at home. It’s not convenient,” Alex replied, before they began again.

I was furious. I banged on the door with all my strength. It took them a moment to stop. When Alex finally opened the door, I didn’t care about their disgusting affair anymore. “Lucas is in critical condition, Alex. He needs the heart donor your company developed. Please, save our son!” I swallowed my disgust and begged him. Alex looked at me with disdain. “Sierra, stop joking around. I just dropped him off at school this morning. He couldn’t have left on his own. And even if he had, a heart like that is worth millions. You think it’s that easy to get?” Jenny wrapped her arms around Alex, looking so innocent. “Sierra, it’s true. Lucas wouldn’t have run off on his own. How could he have gotten into a car accident?” I couldn’t hold back any longer. “Didn’t the doctor call you?!” As Alex picked up his phone, Jenny gasped dramatically, clutching her ankle. “Ahh!” Alex immediately turned to her. “What’s wrong, Jenny?” Jenny put on a sad face. “Sierra pushed me for no reason, and now my ankle is bleeding.” Her tiny scratch wasn’t even bleeding. I hadn’t touched her. Alex turned to leave, but I grabbed his hand in desperation. “Please, Alex. I’m not lying! Lucas needs you. Dr. Stephen said he only has an hour left.” For a moment, he seemed moved, but Jenny cried out even louder. “Alex, it hurts so much. I don’t think I can walk!” “You’re too much, Sierra!” Alex snapped, scooping Jenny up in his arms and carrying her back into the bedroom. No matter how much I pleaded, he told me to leave. A moment later, I heard their voices again from behind the door. “Alex… do you believe her, or me?” “Oh, Jenny, I believe you. I don’t trust a word that old hag says.” They continued talking in the most vulgar way, completely indifferent to my feelings. Meanwhile, my son was lying on a cold hospital bed, waiting for his father to provide the artificial heart that could save his life! I was overwhelmed with disgust as I banged on the door and cried. For the first time, I hated Alex for his betrayal. Dr. Stephen called again. “I’m sorry…” he began, but I hung up before he could finish. I didn’t care about Alex and Jenny anymore. I raced back to the hospital. By the third hour, Lucas had died. There was no heart donor, and the artificial heart never came. I returned to Lucas’s bedside, but it was too late. He was gone. On TV, I watched news coverage celebrating Alex’s success in developing the artificial heart. Meanwhile, I had lost my son forever. I wept, then laughed through my tears. The final words Lucas said to me over the phone, his desperate cries for help, pounded in my head. How ironic. My husband, who had successfully developed an artificial heart, refused to use one to save his own son. Even more tragic, my son died while his father was busy cheating, enjoying his time in bed with his step-sister, Jenny. Suddenly, memories of our wedding day came back to me. Why had Alex always been so close to Jenny, even back then? I held my son’s lifeless body, rocking him to sleep as if he were just taking a nap. I told myself Lucas was only sleeping, refusing to believe he was truly gone. Until the nurses came and took his body away. “Ma’am, I understand your pain, but you can’t keep holding onto a body,” Nurse Davis gently said. I screamed in anguish, “He’s not dead! He’s just… he’s just asleep!” But I collapsed in exhaustion, my face soaked with tears. I cried until I had no more energy left, eventually passing out on the hospital floor. That day, I lost everything. I organized Lucas’s funeral by myself. No one else came; it was just me and my son. The only other people present were the cemetery workers. No friends, no family. I knelt at his grave, sobbing until my heart felt like it was shattered into a million pieces. Just the day before, Lucas had been laughing as he left home with Alex, and now, that was the last time I’d ever see him alive. The phone rang again. It was the police. “Mrs. Heiffman, after reviewing the incident, we’ve confirmed that your son ran out of the school on his own…” My voice cracked as I interrupted, “How could he have run out on his own?!” “Please, Mrs. Heiffman, try to remain calm. We have surveillance footage and witness testimony. You’ll want to see what they captured.” I stayed at Lucas’s grave, unwilling to move. The police finally arrived and handed me photos taken by witnesses on the day of the accident. My hands trembled as I took the pictures. One photo showed Lucas, my little boy, lying lifeless, pierced through the heart by multiple steel rods from the crash. The pain in my chest was unbearable. Then, one photo caught my eye. It showed Alex and Jenny in a car, kissing passionately. Alex’s hand was inside Jenny’s shirt, and they looked like they were making out. The officer explained, “Your son saw them in the car, and that’s why he ran out into the street. Witnesses confirmed that a couple was seen kissing and… engaging in other activities in the car.” I laughed bitterly, clutching the phone as I cried. They left, but my son was gone forever. How could Lucas have skipped school on his own? He was a well-behaved child, always obedient. But it all made sense now. Lucas saw Alex cheating with Jenny, and in his confusion and hurt, he ran after them, only to be struck by the car and impaled on the guardrails. I cried at his grave for three days straight. No food, no water, just endless tears. My son was dead. And with him, my heart had frozen over. Then, out of nowhere, Alex texted me. “Jenny’s birthday is coming up. Bring Lucas to the party.” I stared coldly at the message, my rage simmering. If Alex hadn’t cheated with Jenny, Lucas would still be alive today. Fueled by anger, I replied, “Alright.”

Alex and I met in college. I came from a modest background, while Alex was from a wealthy family. People said I was the ugly duckling that had turned into a swan by marrying him. Alex had always been charming, polite, and from a prestigious family. He excelled in his studies and was praised by professors. Everyone envied me, but they didn’t know the misery I lived through. His wealthy family constantly criticized me—my looks, my posture, my lack of class. They always compared me to their precious adopted daughter, Jenny. I endured all of it for my mother. She had cancer and needed expensive treatment, and only by marrying Alex could I afford to keep her alive. I put up with the humiliation and gradually became the perfect wife they wanted me to be. When Alex and I got married, Jenny had just turned eighteen. On the day of her birthday, I noticed that both Alex and Jenny were absent from the party. I overheard strange noises coming from the bathroom but brushed it off, assuming it was a couple caught up in the excitement of the night. But in retrospect, I realized it had been Alex and Jenny, sneaking off together. Soon after our wedding, I became pregnant with Simon. Simon was a bright, curious little boy. He was fascinated by Alex’s work at the medical research company and had a natural gift for learning. I was so happy that he had inherited Alex’s intelligence. Aside from Alex helping my mother recover, Simon’s birth was the one thing I was most grateful for. With Alex’s financial support, my mother was able to enjoy the last few years of her life. She smiled more, and her health improved until she passed away peacefully while I was pregnant. Alex had always been considerate of me during my pregnancy, staying up late to comfort me and even standing up to his parents when they criticized me. For a time, I thought I had fallen deeply in love with this man who treated me so tenderly. But once Simon was born, everything changed. Alex began staying out all night, and he rarely came home. I can’t even count how many times Alex missed Simon’s birthdays, how many excuses he made, or how many times we fought over his absences. Simon would celebrate his birthday with just me every year, while Alex was out sleeping with other women. I knew about the affairs, but for Simon’s sake, I chose to turn a blind eye. However, Alex didn’t even bother to hide his relationship with Jenny in front of Simon. That morning, when Alex insisted on taking Simon to school, I thought it was a sign of compromise, a gesture of reconciliation. But it turned out to be the key to uncovering Alex’s affair with Jenny. I had swallowed my pride and endured everything for my mother and for Simon. But now, I had nothing left. I arrived at Alex’s parents’ house, seething with anger.

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The day my grad school entrance exam was over, Emily dragged me out to the Foxhole Pub for a night out. The next morning, I woke up to find that the 6’1″ guy I slept with was actually the librarian at NYU! At first, I thought I’d hit the jackpot with a hot guy. But later, when he pinned me to the bed and rasped, “Rachel, be good… one more time,” I realized this man had planned it all along. The day my grad school entrance exam ended, Emily practically dragged me out to the Foxhole Pub. After 168 days of suffering through test prep, I put on the most daring mini-skirt I owned. Paired with my killer curves and my innocent face, the contrast was irresistible. Heh, the guys at the bar won’t know what hit them! It was my first time drinking, and to be honest, the taste was worse than I imagined—like horse piss. I thought I could handle at least three drinks, but one shot in, I couldn’t even tell which way was up. Emily and the other girls had gone off to flirt with some younger guys, leaving me at the bar. A guy at the next table bought me a drink. Not knowing the bar etiquette, I sipped a little, and he smiled and left. Whatever—I had to pee! While washing my hands, a ridiculously handsome guy walked in. I stared at him in the mirror, wide-eyed. Oh my god, he’s gorgeous! My love-at-first-sight radar was going off the charts. He glanced at me, surprised, as he was about to dry his hands. And then… I somehow ended up throwing myself at him, completely wasted. He probably had a cleanliness issue because he tried to push me off. But I clung to him like a koala—no way I was letting go of this hot, clean-cut guy! He looked at me with a resigned expression and asked, “What are you doing here?” I grinned and said, “Haha, just looking for a guy with an eight-pack who knows how to handle things.” I couldn’t help but run my fingers along his smooth, perfect skin. It was so soft—I was in love. Heh heh… This guy smelled so good… But suddenly, I felt like I was going to throw up. I hadn’t realized that one drink could hit me so hard. And then… yep, I vomited. All over his pristine white shirt. Without a word, he took me back to his place. The second we got in, he threw me on the couch and went to shower and change. Still dazed and overheated, I stripped off some clothes and followed him into the bathroom. When he saw me coming, wrapped in a towel, he jumped. “Don’t come any closer.” I was already eyeing his abs. Damn, that body was to die for. In real life, I’m usually the good girl, but drunk-me had no problem getting handsy. Mmm, hard and smooth. His body felt amazing, cool to the touch, which made me cling to him even more, like I was on fire. Realizing something was off, he cursed under his breath, picked me up, and laid me on the bed. He headed to the closet, probably to find clothes and take me to the hospital. I held onto the bed for support, slowly crawling toward him. The heat in the room was unbearable, and my skin felt parched, like I was about to crack open. Even with my eyes closed, I could navigate my way behind him, wrapping my arms around his waist. I was so thirsty, my lips parched, my face burning. I leaned in, searching for his lips like they were my only source of water. He turned to avoid me. “Stop messing around. Let me get dressed so I can take you to the hospital.” I whimpered in his arms. To his ears, it probably sounded like a seductive, ghostly moan. 0

He opened a bottle of water and tried to pour it into my mouth, but I fidgeted like a child, spilling it everywhere. Water ran down my chin, neck, and soaked into my white tank top, making it cling to my chest. His temple pulsed as he gritted his teeth, clamping my mouth shut and forcing more water in. I sputtered, coughing and tearing up, a pitiful sight. Taking a deep breath, he carried me to the bed, tucked me under the covers, and went to get a cold towel. I kicked the blanket off, my body writhing restlessly. My pillow was soaked with tears as my chest began to itch. It started with a few stings, like bees biting here and there, striking all the sensitive spots—painful and itchy at the same time. But soon, the discomfort became unbearable, like a person wandering through the desert, desperate for water. In a daze, I yanked off my tank top, fumbling to unhook my bra. A hand grabbed my wrist and said, “No.” I was both frustrated and uncomfortable, blinking up at him through teary eyes. “I feel so bad…” I stared at him seriously, tugging at his clothes like a lost child pleading for candy. “Help me, please?” I could only repeat that one sentence over and over, clinging to him as if he were my lifeline. This man, Finn, was getting the full experience of what it meant to be in an overwhelming situation. He pulled me into his arms again, trying to peel me off. “You idiot, you’ve been drugged.” I could barely make out his frustrated yet helpless voice, tinged with concern. “I’m taking you to the hospital.” The word “hospital” faintly registered, but my foggy brain couldn’t comprehend it. Take me? Where? I wasn’t going anywhere. Was he really a male escort who only catered to rich women? He kept trying to pull me off, but I kept climbing back onto him. The room, now in the dead of night, was filled with an odd tension. His breathing grew heavier as I clung to him. Tears welled in my eyes as I wrapped my arms around his neck, crying, “Kiss me… please?” He was still trying to pry me off, but his ragged breath betrayed him. With a reckless move, I yanked off the towel he’d barely managed to wrap around himself. I pressed closer, kissing his jaw. He tried to hold back, but my hot breath on his face made him falter. Thinking he was just holding out for money, I mumbled, “Please, help me… I can pay you.” With a sigh, I let out a stupid line, “You’ve already gotten my first kiss, what’s with the hesitation?” Finn’s brows furrowed, his forehead slick with a thin sheen of sweat. “What are you talking about?” He looked shocked, as if he couldn’t believe what I’d just said. The pressure from below was becoming unbearable. I didn’t stop—my lack of experience didn’t matter anymore. I kept kissing him. He finally gave in, his control snapping as he turned from resisting to taking the lead, pushing me down onto the bed. Even in the heat of the moment, he held back, asking, “Are you sure? No regrets?” I couldn’t stand it any longer. I pulled his hesitant lips down to mine and silenced him. 0

That night felt endless. By morning, my entire body was sore, like I’d been hit by a truck and shattered into pieces. I never expected this supposed male escort to be so skilled. He hadn’t stopped all night, murmuring, “Good girl,” while kissing me softly. When my cries became too much, he’d say “I’m sorry” before plunging deeper, each time wilder than the last. Eventually, I passed out. Honestly, I’d never felt better in my life! Totally worth it! Especially hearing someone so reserved and clean-cut say such… things. Hehe, I scored big time! I grinned as I turned to look at him. And then I froze, my expression twisting into shock. Holy crap! “Finn?!” I was so stunned that I yelled his name. This… this… wasn’t he the librarian from the second floor of the NYU library? The one who just started this semester?? Oh my god, I had slept with the librarian. Panic exploded in my mind like a thousand firecrackers. Girls, is it too late to play dead? I want to cry. So… Our school librarian is a male escort? Hahaha, this is the juiciest gossip ever! If I posted this on the university’s confession page, all the fangirls would lose it knowing their beloved librarian is a gigolo! I was still giggling to myself when I noticed Finn staring at me with a look that clearly said, “Where’s my money?” Wait… does he seriously not care that I’ve figured out his secret? Isn’t he embarrassed? How can he just openly ask a student for money like this? My hands were shaking as I opened my banking app, staring at my balance of 512 bucks. I transferred him 500. Our last chat was still from the time I messaged him, “You done for the day?” Back then, I’d been studying for the exam, trying to hide my books in the library shelves. I didn’t want them confiscated, so I shamelessly added him on social media, mostly because he was pale, quiet, and a bit shy, with just the right amount of cockiness—like a heartthrob straight out of a college drama. He hit all my weak spots. Since then, I’d used my sweetest smile to make myself unforgettable. I’d always be the last to leave the library, flash him a grin when hiding my books, and sit in spots where we could make eye contact. That way, I’d managed to snag his social media handle. But this guy? He was ice-cold. After we exchanged one awkward message, he never replied. Under his confused gaze, I hurriedly pulled on my clothes, ready to bolt. But before I could escape, his long fingers closed around my wrist. He stared at me, disappointed. “You’re really just going to leave?” I thought he was upset about the amount of money I’d sent. “I-I-I’m a broke student, okay? That’s all the money I have! Thank you, sir, for your excellent service! Wishing you continued success in business. I’ll be off now!” I tried to peel his hand away as I backed toward the door, barefoot. Finn stretched out his hand, pulling the blanket over me and rolling me back into his arms. “You—you—you… what are you doing? Aren’t you supposed to be a gentleman?” I tried to push against his chest, which, by the way, felt amazing. He leaned down, smirking. “What do you think?” Before I could catch my breath, he kissed me again. Desperately, I tried to protest. “I-I-I don’t have any more money!” After a couple of intense minutes, he pulled back just enough to chuckle. “Buy one, get one free.” That left me speechless. This guy was good—too good. I couldn’t complain. 0

When I woke up again, it was already noon, and my stomach was growling. Finn wasn’t in bed, but I could hear the shower running. If I was going to sneak out, this was my moment. I quickly threw on my clothes and made a dash for the door. After finishing my exams, I still had two final projects to complete, and my professor had been nagging me to choose my thesis topic. I couldn’t risk running into Finn again—too awkward. I switched my usual library spot to room 202, but I still couldn’t focus on studying. Then one day, while I was grabbing water, I ran into him again. As he walked by, I blushed furiously, wondering what to say. But he just passed me without so much as a glance. Seriously? Pretending we don’t know each other? I fumed silently. For several days, we acted like strangers at the library. It was exactly what I wanted, yet somehow, it bothered me. Then, on New Year’s Day, I was eating alone at a bistro when a cute guy, Jake, came over and asked to join me. He had big, bright eyes, and honestly, I was a little envious of his double eyelids. Feeling playful after finally finishing my exams, I decided to give this junior a chance. But fate has a twisted sense of humor—Finn happened to be sitting across the restaurant and witnessed the whole thing. I saw his face darken as he marched over and sat directly across from me, uninvited. It felt like I’d been caught cheating. Wait—cheating? Why would I feel like that? He’s just a male escort I hired! “He’s too young for you,” Finn commented casually as he ate his meal, clearly confident he was in control. “Hmph, younger guys are fun. Full of energy, and you can touch their abs,” I teased, smirking. I glanced up to see his expression darken even further. “Tonight. Movie. You’re coming.” It wasn’t an invitation—it was a command. Hmph, who does he think he is? Acting like a stranger for days, and now he orders me around? No way am I going! And yet… that evening, there I was, perfectly dressed, standing outside the movie theater. Why? Because this man knew me too well! He took me to see I Miss You. And seriously, who can resist a hot guy who’s that thoughtful? “You, a grown man, know about I Miss You?” I teased. I wouldn’t have expected someone as stoic as him to watch a romantic drama. “You don’t want to see it?” What?! I hadn’t even posted on social media that I wanted to see this movie, except for one TikTok where I’d mentioned, “Would love to watch I Miss You, but my friends don’t want to risk getting COVID.” And somehow, he’d found that! Oh no, has he seen all my silly TikTok videos? Save me! Did he catch me leaving comments on his Instagram too? That would be mortifying. By the time the movie ended, it was already 10 PM, and I seriously suspected that Finn had intentionally made sure I couldn’t get back to the dorm. He took me back to his place instead. The moment we stepped inside, without even bothering to take off his shoes, Finn started kissing me, hungrily, like a starved animal. In no time, I was breathless, my heart pounding like crazy. “Breathe, idiot,” he rasped, giving me a moment to catch my breath before diving in again, as if he couldn’t get enough. By the time I could think clearly, he had already pinned me down on the bed, his hands exploring my body with expert precision. I had to admit, the man had skills. No wonder I thought he was an escort.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “294602”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster #浪漫Romance #玄幻Fantsy #狼人werewolf #擦边Steamy #励志Inspiring #现实主义Realistic #校园School #后宫Harem #重生Reborn