Author: Momo Chan

I gasped, my body convulsing in agonizing pain on the cold floor. I begged and cried, pleading with my own sister to stop, but all I got in return was her freezing, disgusted glare. “Jonah has a weak heart,” Evelyn snapped, her voice devoid of any warmth. “As his brother, what’s wrong with giving him yours? It’s just a simple heart transfer.” She locked me in the dark basement, completely indifferent to my agony. She turned around and showered Jonah with the utmost tenderness and care. “Are you feeling better, Jonah? If that useless trash’s heart doesn’t suit you, don’t worry. I will find you a better one.” I was locked in that pitch-black room, bleeding from my eyes, nose, and mouth, falling into utter despair. A month later, Evelyn finally remembered me. “Now that Jonah is fully recovered, drag your useless body out of there,” she muttered coldly to the empty hallway. She had no idea. I didn’t survive her cruel ritual. I had died in that dark room weeks ago, and my body was already rotting away.

Evelyn carefully fed Jonah chicken soup, spoon by spoon, her face filled with deep, maternal concern. “Jonah, how is your body recovering?” she asked softly. “If Cole’s heart feels uncomfortable in your chest, just tell me. I’ll find you another matching donor.” Hearing this, Jonah looked deeply moved, his eyes glistening with tears. “Evelyn, you are so good to me.” But as he spoke, a flash of mockery crossed his eyes. He lowered his head, pretending to hesitate. “But… after the ritual, Cole hasn’t come home for a month. Is he angry with me?” “If he’s mad, maybe I should give his heart back. I don’t mind the pain. I don’t want to ruin your relationship with him.” Evelyn’s heart ached for him, and she immediately pulled him into a comforting embrace. “Don’t worry about that ungrateful trash. He does this every single time. He throws a tantrum, runs away from home to threaten me, and eventually crawls back on his knees to beg for my forgiveness.” “This is just his pathetic way of trying to get my attention.” I hadn’t actually left. I was standing right beside them, but they couldn’t see me. If this had happened in the past, I would have gone mad, desperately trying to pull my sister away from Jonah. Jonah had stolen the love that rightfully belonged to me. Evelyn was my only remaining family, and I couldn’t bear the thought of losing her. And because of that jealousy, I used to get screamed at by Evelyn every time I tried to interfere. But now, as I stood right in front of them, I felt nothing. I was completely numb. Because my heart was gone, and I was dead. After the Heart Transfer Ritual, the violent organ rejection had tortured me to death. After my physical death, my soul had detached from my body. With a gaping, hollow hole in my chest, my spirit was bound to Evelyn, forced to watch her every move. Just then, Thomas, our old family butler, walked in with trembling steps. “Lady Evelyn, about Master Cole…” Evelyn frowned, her face darkening with annoyance. “What about him? Didn’t I tell you? I don’t care about anything regarding Cole anymore.” “Running away for a whole month over a petty fight. How childish. When will he ever grow up and be as mature as Jonah?” Thomas kept his head low, his voice shaking. “My Lady… Master Cole didn’t run away. He… he has been locked in his room for a month. No food, no water.” Hearing this, Evelyn’s frown deepened. Seeing her reaction, Jonah quickly chimed in, putting on a guilty face. “Evelyn, Cole must be really angry. Maybe I should go and apologize to him in person.” “After all, I’m just an outsider. I can’t let myself cause a rift between you two.” Evelyn immediately snapped at the butler, “Don’t bother with him. No food or water for a month? He’d be dead by now if he was actually fasting. Does he really think this cheap trick will make me worry about him?” She sneered, her voice icy. “What a pathetic drama queen. If he loves pretending to be dead so much, let him starve.” Thomas’s face went pale. He opened his mouth, wanting to say something, but stopped. Seeing his hesitation, Evelyn’s expression hardened. “Fine. If you’re that worried, I’ll go check on him myself later.” “But only on one condition: once he apologizes to Jonah and promises never to bully him again, I will let him out of that room.” Hearing her words, a phantom pain shot through my hollow chest, as if someone had poured crushed glass into my empty ribcage. I instinctively clutched my chest. My heart was currently beating inside Jonah’s chest, yet she wanted *me* to apologize to *him*? In the past, Jonah was always the one who set me up, but Evelyn never believed me. She was my biological sister, yet she treated me with nothing but cruelty. I still remembered the day of the ritual. Lying on the cold floor of the basement, I had cried and screamed, telling her how much it hurt. But she had looked down at me with pure disgust. “This little pain is nothing compared to what Jonah suffered,” she had said coldly. “You triggered Jonah’s heart attack. If I don’t teach you a lesson and make you feel his pain, I don’t deserve to be your older sister!” I had begged and apologized frantically, even though Jonah had faked the whole thing. I apologized because the pain of having my chest ripped open was too much to bear. I just wanted my heart back. But Evelyn didn’t care. She had ordered Thomas to lock me in the dark room. “If you learn how to behave and show Jonah some respect, I might consider finding you a healthy donor heart in the future.” She had slammed the door, leaving me in the dark. And in that darkness, my soul had withered away, and I died in absolute silence.

“You may leave now, Thomas,” Evelyn commanded the butler. “Later, go unlock his door and tell him to come straight to Jonah to apologize. If he refuses, I’ll lock him up for another three months.” “Pretending to go on a hunger strike… how pathetic. Anyone with a shred of maturity wouldn’t resort to such childish tactics.” Thomas opened his mouth, wanting to speak, but Evelyn waved her hand impatiently, dismissing him. Jonah smirked slightly when Evelyn wasn’t looking, then put on a fake worried face. “Evelyn, once Cole apologizes, please forgive him. After all, he’s your only blood relative. What if he really runs away for good this time…?” Before he could finish, Evelyn scoffed. “I’d be thrilled if he did. A useless, malicious parasite like Cole doesn’t deserve to be my brother anyway.” “If he hadn’t stolen the gift you made for me, your heart wouldn’t have failed in the first place.” With that, she gently hugged Jonah, her eyes filled with tenderness. Watching this, a bitter smile crept onto my face. Even without a heart, why did my soul still feel this stinging pain? The “gift” Evelyn claimed I stole was actually a Siren’s Wax Candle. I had spent an entire month crafting it by hand. Burning a Siren’s Wax Candle could protect a spellcaster’s spiritual aura during high-level rituals. I knew Evelyn worked late nights casting spells, so I wanted to make this for her. I had stayed up for weeks, burning my fingers so badly that my skin was peeling off. But Jonah had found it and tried to snatch it away from me. During our argument, Evelyn had walked in. Jonah had immediately dropped to the floor, clutching his chest and panting dramatically. “I know I’m just an adopted brother, Cole. I know you hate me. But I worked so hard to make this candle for Evelyn.” “I saw her working in the dark every night, and I just wanted to give her some light. Why did you have to take it from me?” He looked up at Evelyn with tear-filled eyes. “My chest hurts so much… I think my heart is failing again. Evelyn, please take care of yourself if I don’t make it.” His acting was flawless. Evelyn didn’t hesitate. She slapped me across the face so hard my lip split, then rushed to cradle Jonah in her arms. “Jonah, hold on! Please don’t leave me! I can’t live without you!” I had tried to explain. But Evelyn cast a silencing spell on me, locking my jaw so I couldn’t utter a single sound. As the head of the Vance Coven, Evelyn was highly skilled in the mystic arts and healing. If she had bothered to check Jonah’s pulse for even a second, she would have known he was faking it. But she was so blinded by her favoritism that she didn’t even give me a chance to speak. And when she coldly carved open my chest using our family’s forbidden magic, I finally understood. She wasn’t just biased. I simply didn’t matter to her at all. Jonah was her true brother; I was nothing. “Cole, is this how you treat Jonah when I’m not around? Stealing his gift and causing his heart attack?” “Fine. Since you love hurting him, I’ll give him your heart. Let’s see how you like living with a broken chest!” To avenge Jonah, she performed the forbidden Heart Transfer Ritual, swapping my healthy heart into Jonah’s chest. Then, she threw me into the dark basement. A month had passed since then. Only now did she think of letting me out. But the only thing waiting for her in that room was my decomposing corpse. Thomas returned, cold sweat dripping down his forehead, his face pale as a ghost. “My Lady… I went to deliver your message to Master Cole. He… he didn’t answer. I opened the door slightly, and… and a horrible smell came out.” “It smelled like… like a decaying corpse!” I looked at Evelyn, curious to see her reaction to the news of my death. To my surprise, she laughed. It was a cold, amused sound. “A decaying corpse? What kind of game is Cole playing now? Is he pretending to be dead just to see if I’ll cry for him?” “Since he loves playing dead so much, tell the staff to lock up all the food. No one is allowed to give him a single crumb. Let’s see how long he can keep up this act.” I laughed silently, a bitter, hollow sound. In the past, she had used all kinds of cruel punishments to force me to bow down and apologize to Jonah. I had long become numb to it. But this time, she wouldn’t get what she wanted. Because my body had already been half-eaten by the rats and insects in that dark room. Thomas stood frozen, cold sweat pouring down his face. “My Lady…” Evelyn’s patience finally snapped. “What are you still standing there for?” “Are you disobeying my orders now?” Thomas clenched his fists, his voice trembling. “My Lady, I truly believe something has happened to Master Cole!” “Please… just go and see for yourself!” Evelyn lost the last of her patience. “How much did Cole pay you to put on this ridiculous show with him?” “I need to spend time with Jonah. Tell Cole to get his pathetic self over here and apologize right now, or he will regret it!” Jonah hid a smirk behind his hand, pretending to be worried. “Evelyn, what if Cole really did get hurt?” Evelyn scoffed. “Then good. At least I’ll only have one brother to worry about from now on.” Hearing this, I clutched my empty chest as phantom tears poured from my eyes. The pain of having my heart ripped out returned, sharper than ever.

The Vance family was an ancient coven of powerful mystic spellcasters. For generations, many dark covens had eyed our secret spellbooks. Our parents had died in a brutal magical war when we were young. Evelyn had fled with me and our family’s ancient grimoires, running for our lives. She practiced magic day and night while raising me. Eventually, we both mastered the mystic arts. Evelyn avenged our parents, and we rebuilt the Vance family name to its former glory. That year, Evelyn was eighteen and I was sixteen. We were hailed as the twin prodigies of the magic world. But everything changed when I suffered a severe magical backlash while practicing a high-level forbidden spell. My magical core was shattered, and all my power was completely drained. At first, Evelyn wept, holding my hand and whispering, “As long as you’re alive, Cole. I will carry the Vance family name for both of us.” But as time went on and my attempts to rebuild my magical core failed repeatedly, Evelyn grew cold. The warmth and affection in her eyes when she looked at me slowly vanished. I tried desperately to please her, doing whatever chores and favors I could, but she remained completely indifferent. Then, one day, she brought Jonah home, announcing that he was now our brother. To make Evelyn happy, I treated Jonah like a real brother. But Jonah saw me as an obstacle. He constantly provoked me in secret, then ran to Evelyn crying, making himself look like the victim. Evelyn grew more and more disappointed in me, distancing herself further each day. Jonah replaced me. He became Evelyn’s new brother. The memory sent another wave of phantom pain through my soul. Humans are such strange creatures. Even without a heart, the soul can still ache. My spiritual form grew slightly fainter as my tears fell. “Evelyn, it’s been half an hour. Why isn’t Cole here yet?” Jonah asked, his tone dripping with fake concern. Evelyn’s brows furrowed in deep annoyance. “He really thinks he’s important enough for me to go beg him. He won’t learn until he faces real consequences.” “Clearly, a month in the dark wasn’t enough. I’ll lock him up for another three months until he truly repents.” With a dark expression, Evelyn stood up and marched toward the backyard. She walked so fast that Jonah could barely keep up. When they reached the door of the basement, they found it wide open. Thomas, the butler, was lying unconscious on the ground. A wave of an incredibly foul, putrid odor rushed out of the room. Evelyn winced, covering her nose. She conjured a splash of cold water, throwing it onto Thomas’s face to wake him up. “What happened here? Did Cole knock you out? Where is he?” Thomas’s face was deathly pale. He pointed a shaking finger toward the dark room, but his jaw trembled so hard he couldn’t form words. Watching this, I smiled bitterly. I knew exactly why Thomas had fainted. After the Heart Transfer Ritual, my body had suffered from severe organ rejection. I had bled from my eyes, nose, and ears, dying in a horrific state. Moreover, my body had been locked in a warm, sealed room for a month. The insects and rats had long turned my corpse into their breeding ground. Evelyn let go of the butler, pinching her nose as she shouted angrily into the room: “Cole! I’m here! Stop playing these disgusting games! You’re just a magicless loser now. How dare you bully Jonah? Get out here and get on your knees right now, or I will make you pay!” Evelyn stepped forward, but the overwhelming stench of decay brought tears to her eyes. Infuriated, she screamed, “Cole! You think this disgusting smell will stop me from dragging you out?!” She quickly chanted a spell, summoning a violent gust of wind. The wind tore through the basement, ripping the door off its hinges and blowing open the roof. Along with the wind, a swarm of black flies, scurrying rats, and my decaying corpse were thrown into the open yard. As my skeletal remains—half-eaten bones with chunks of rotting flesh still clinging to them—slammed onto the grass, a dark, shriveled organ lay exposed in the center of my shattered ribcage. Evelyn’s eyes widened in horror.

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My wife was raped and beaten to death in our newly bought house by my best friend. Yet, in court, I stood up and defended him, securing his acquittal. My father-in-law, Arthur, had a stroke on the spot from pure rage and was rushed to the ER. My brother-in-law, Tyler, cornered me with a knife in his hand. “Ethan! She was your wife! She was in your new home, hanging up fairy lights and waiting for you when she was murdered!” “Why did you protect that animal, Leo Vance?! Are you even human?!” He pressed the blade against my throat, his eyes bloodshot and wild as he roared at me. I didn’t even blink. Feeling the sharp pain of the blade slicing into my skin, I just smiled. “Do it.” “Send me down there to be with her.” “Let her ask me face-to-face why I did it.” Tyler’s hand shook violently. He was on the verge of a total breakdown. “Ethan! You think I won’t do it?” The hospital corridor was packed with onlookers, their phone flashes blinking in my face. “Isn’t that Ethan Cole, the hotshot lawyer?” “Yeah, I heard he took a massive bribe to get his own wife’s killer off the hook.” “What a monster. Feeding on his wife’s blood money.” “Disgusting. Why is he still breathing?” I listened to their whispers, my expression blank, a faint, cold smile playing on my lips. Suddenly, the VIP ward door was kicked open. Helen, my mother-in-law, rushed out with wild, messy hair. She immediately saw me, my neck dripping with blood. She didn’t call for a doctor. She didn’t try to stop Tyler’s knife. *SLAP!* A heavy slap landed on my face, burning hot. My head snapped to the side, the metallic taste of blood filling my mouth. “Get out! Get the hell out of here!” Helen pointed at my face, her voice high-pitched and hysterical. “You killed my Clara! Now you want to kill her father too? Why don’t you just die!” Tyler’s grip loosened, and the knife clattered to the linoleum floor. He collapsed to his knees, sobbing uncontrollably. I ignored the stinging on my cheek, raised my hand, and casually wiped the blood from my neck. No explanations. No apologies. I didn’t even give them a second glance. Turning around, I walked straight toward the elevator. Behind me, Helen’s curses and Tyler’s weeping echoed down the hall. I kept my spine perfectly straight. The moment I stepped out of the hospital lobby, my phone buzzed in my pocket. The screen displayed “Vance Family.” I answered, my voice instantly switching to a warm, gentle tone. “Hello, Mrs. Vance.” The grateful voice of an elderly woman came through the speaker. “Oh, Mr. Cole, thank you so, so much. The police just said there wasn’t enough evidence. They’re releasing my Leo…” I stopped walking and looked back at the towering hospital building. “Don’t worry. I have everything under control. Just do exactly as I said, and he’ll be completely fine.” Sudden, heavy footsteps rushed up behind me. Tyler had followed me out. He was staring death glares at the phone in my hand. He had heard everything. And I knew he would. “Ethan—!” Tyler lunged, grabbing my collar and slamming my head violently against the concrete wall. “You took that murderer’s money, didn’t you? You sold Clara’s life for a paycheck! You sick piece of trash!” Pedestrians stopped, pointing and whispering. “Is that the corrupt lawyer?” “Looks decent on the outside, but his soul is pure black.” Staring into Tyler’s burning eyes, I didn’t defend myself. My right hand remained in my trench coat pocket, my fingers tightly gripping a ball of unfinished, thick yarn. It was a scarf Clara had been knitting for me before she died. “Say something! Are you mute?!” Tyler threw a hard punch, hitting my cheekbone. I stumbled back a few steps, steadying myself against the wall. I kept my head down, letting my messy hair cover my eyes. My throat tightened. “Are you done?” I spat out a mouthful of bloody spit. “If you’re done, go back inside and take care of your father.” With that, I pushed past Tyler and hailed a cab. When I got home, the house was dead silent. I didn’t turn on the lights. I grabbed a bottle of cheap whiskey from the cabinet, unscrewed the cap, and took a massive gulp. The burning liquid scorched my throat, and tears instantly flooded my eyes. I pulled out my phone, the dim screen illuminating my twisted face. The screen showed a forensic photo—Clara lying in a pool of blood, her eyes still open, as if she were looking right at me. I traced her pale face on the screen with a trembling finger. “Clara…” A low, wounded growl escaped my throat. I smiled at the photo, but heavy tears kept splashing onto the glass screen. “Soon, baby. Very soon.” The next morning, I was shaken awake by the sound of glass shattering. The living room was a disaster zone. Tyler had brought a few of his rough cousins. Armed with baseball bats, they were brutally smashing the small memorial table I had set up for Clara. The flowers were trampled, and the memorial candles were kicked over. “Trash it! Trash this monster’s house!” Tyler stepped directly on Clara’s framed photograph, the sound of the glass cracking exceptionally sharp. I stood at the bedroom door, watching the scene unfold. My fists clenched so hard my veins turned blue. But I didn’t move. I just watched coldly, like an outsider.

The sky was so dark it felt like it was falling, and the rain poured down in sheets. At the entrance of the cemetery, a large wooden sign stood right in the middle of the path. “Ethan Cole and dogs keep out.” The words were spray-painted in dripping red paint, looking like fresh blood. I was dressed in all black, shielding a bouquet of fresh lilies in my arms. Those were Clara’s favorite flowers. Ignoring the sign, I walked straight in. “Stop him!” Tyler roared, and five or six muscular guys rushed me. Without a word, their fists rained down on my back and head. I curled my body into a ball, desperately protecting the flowers in my chest. “Throw him out! Don’t let him ruin Clara’s path to heaven!” Tyler kicked me hard in the ribs. A sharp, agonizing pain shot through me. I groaned but refused to let go of the bouquet. Until someone forcefully bent my fingers back and snatched the lilies away. “You think you deserve to give her flowers?” Tyler threw the lilies into the mud and stomped on them repeatedly until the white petals turned into black mush. “You belong in hell!” Lying in the mud, staring at the ruined flowers, my eyes burned red. I tried to crawl toward them, but a heavy boot slammed down on the back of my hand. Tyler looked down at me, pulled a photo from his jacket, and slapped it onto my wet face. “Look at this, everyone!” He pointed at the photo, his voice piercing through the heavy rain. “This is his true face! Six months before Clara was murdered, he was already drinking with that killer, Leo Vance, at a pub!” The photo was real. But it was taken when Leo had come to my office to ask for legal advice. The gathering relatives and guests erupted. “Oh my god, so it was a pre-planned murder?” “How is this guy not behind bars yet?” Someone spat on my face. Then came plastic water bottles, mud, and even small stones. “Beat this gold-digging bastard!” “You sick cuckold!” I was like a stray dog cornered in the street, surrounded by an angry mob. No resistance. No explanation. I let them pelt me with whatever they had. The sound of squeaking wheels approached. The crowd automatically split to make way. Arthur sat in his wheelchair, his face pale and sickly, his lips trembling. He held an old, mud-stained sneaker and threw it at me with what little strength he had left. The shoe struck my forehead, leaving a dirty smudge. “You… animal… get out…” The old man shook with rage, his chest heaving like a broken bellows. “Arthur…” The moment I opened my mouth, two strong hands pinned my shoulders to the ground. “Get on your knees!” Tyler kicked the back of my knees. “Apologize to my father! Apologize to Clara!” My knees crashed heavily onto the rough gravel. Before I could react, a large hand pressed the back of my head and slammed it downward. *Thud!* The sound of my forehead hitting the concrete step was sickening. Warm blood immediately flowed down my eyebrow, blurring my vision. Everything turned red. Around me were curses, insults, and the relentless sound of rain. The sheer humiliation gnawed at my heart like a venomous snake. I lifted my head, my face covered in blood. Through the red haze, I looked at Clara’s cold tombstone. Suddenly, I laughed. A distorted, chilling laugh. “Arthur. Tyler.” I locked eyes with them, my voice quiet but dripping with icy malice. “You will regret this.” “Only I… can truly let her rest in peace.” Tyler flinched, taking a step back, startled by the look in my eyes. But he quickly recovered, masked by embarrassment and anger. “Still acting tough! Throw him out of here!” I was dragged out of the cemetery like a dead dog. And thrown brutally into the muddy ditch by the roadside. The dirty water seeped into my cuts, causing a blinding pain. The storm raged on, washing away the blood and dirt from my body. I lay in the mud, staring at the gray sky. My body was in extreme pain, but my mind had never been clearer. Clara. Just wait a little longer. The show isn’t over yet.

The door to our apartment had two yellow police warning tapes stretched across it. Dragging my injured left leg, I ignored the tapes, ripped them off, and pushed the door open. The air inside was thick with a stale, metallic smell. On the floor, a large patch of dried, dark-brown blood was staring back at me. That was where Clara died. I grabbed a rag from the bathroom, got down on my knees, and began to scrub the floor. “Clara loves a clean house. Can’t let it stay dirty…” I mumbled to myself, my eyes completely hollow. From the hallway, a sharp, mocking voice drifted in. “Oh look, the freak is back.” Our neighbor, Mrs. Gable, was standing in the corridor, raising her voice on purpose. “Selling his wife out and having the nerve to come back. Who’s going to buy this cursed apartment now? What a jinx.” “I know, right? Heard he even defended the killer. He’s lucky her ghost hasn’t dragged him to hell yet.” My hand paused for a second. I didn’t look up. I kept scrubbing. I scrubbed until the floorboards turned pale and my fingers were raw and bleeding. Heavy, hurried footsteps echoed in the hallway again. Tyler burst in with a few guys, waving some papers in the air. “Ethan Cole! Explain this!” He threw the papers, and they scattered across the floor in front of me. It was a copy of a life insurance policy. The payout: Ten million dollars. The sole beneficiary: Ethan Cole. Tyler’s eyes were bloodshot, looking like a wild predator ready to rip me apart. “No wonder you defended Leo Vance! No wonder you didn’t press charges!” He lunged, grabbing my collar and shoving the paper in my face. “Because he was your partner! You were the mastermind! You set this up for the insurance money!” I stared at the policy, completely frozen. When did Clara buy this? I recalled the week before her birthday, when she had mysteriously told me she had prepared a huge surprise for me. So this was it. That foolish, loving woman… Was she worried that if anything happened to her, I would be left with nothing? My heart felt like it was being squeezed by an invisible hand, making it hard to breathe. My silence, however, was proof of guilt in Tyler’s eyes. “Silent? Guilty conscience?” Tyler grabbed a baseball bat from near the door and swung it down with full force. *THUD!* The bat slammed into my stomach. My stomach spasmed violently. I curled up on the floor like a shrimp, cold sweat instantly soaking my back. I grit my teeth and didn’t make a sound. “Tell me! Did you plan this?!” Tyler raised the bat for another swing. “Stop hitting him!” A man’s voice came from the door. Our neighbor, Marcus Drake, walked in, wearing an expression of righteous indignation. “Tyler, I’ll testify for you.” Marcus pointed at me as I lay on the floor, his eyes shifting nervously. “A few days before the murder, I heard him and Leo Vance arguing in the hallway. They were talking about ‘how to split the cash’ and ‘making sure it looks clean.’” The crowd outside the door gasped. “Oh my god, a witness!” “This is it! He’s guilty!” Lying on the floor, I forced my head up to look at Marcus’s hypocritical face. He had been obsessed with Clara, pursuing her constantly, and grew bitter after she rejected him. Good. Very good. All the monsters are finally in one room. I suddenly burst out laughing. It was a laugh that rattled my chest, tasting of copper and blood. I struggled to my feet, grabbed a half-empty bottle of liquor from the ruined counter, and took a large swig in front of everyone. The alcohol spilled down my chin, mixing with the blood on my lips. “Yeah,” I said, wiping my mouth, looking at Tyler with a mocking smirk. “The money is coming. Ten million dollars. Of course I’m thrilled.” “With that kind of cash, do you think I’ll have trouble finding another woman?” Silence. Complete, suffocating silence. In the next second, Tyler completely snapped. He grabbed a heavy metal shovel from the corner of the room and raised it high. “Then go to hell with your money!” The shovel cut through the air, aimed straight at my skull. I closed my eyes. I didn’t dodge. *CLANG!* A dull impact echoed, but the expected pain didn’t come. I opened my eyes. A frail figure had thrown herself over me. Warm liquid dripped onto my face. It was Mary Vance, Leo’s mother. The edge of the shovel had grazed her forehead, and blood was gushing out. “Don’t hit Mr. Cole… He’s a good man…” the elderly woman sobbed, shielding me with her body. The crowd went wild. Tyler froze, and then his rage flared even hotter. He pointed at Mary, the veins on his forehead bulging like worms. “Look at this! The killer’s mother is protecting this piece of trash!” “You guys are definitely in this together! You disgusting criminals!” The gathered neighbors were fully riled up now. “Beat them to death!” “No shame!” “They threw away their humanity for cash!” People started throwing rocks, garbage, and rotten vegetables. Tyler pulled out his phone and started a livestream on TikTok. “Guys, look at this! This is Ethan Cole! The monster who murdered his wife for insurance!” The comment section exploded in real-time. [He deserves the electric chair!] [Dox him! Find out where his family lives!] [Why isn’t this demon dead yet?] I had officially become public enemy number one. Just then, sirens wailed in the distance. Two police cruisers pulled up downstairs, and officers rushed up the stairs. “Freeze! Everyone step back!” They set up caution tape, barely keeping the furious crowd at bay. But Tyler wouldn’t let it go. In front of the officers, he shoved his phone camera right into my face. “Ethan Cole, in front of the cops, in front of millions online, do you dare to admit you ordered Leo Vance to kill her?!” “Do you dare to swear? If you lie, may you burn in hell!” The crowd pushed forward, and I was knocked to the ground. Someone from the crowd had brought a plastic bowl filled with cold, rotten food mixed with dirty water and ash from the memorial candle. *SPLASH!* The cold, filthy mush was dumped directly over my head. Some of it even got into my mouth. “Eat up! This is your final meal!” “Apologize to your wife!” I lay on the ground, humiliated to the core. At that moment, my dignity was completely ground into the dirt. I stuck out my tongue and tasted the bitter, ash-covered food on my lip. Then, slowly, I stood up. I pushed away the officer who tried to help me. Using my sleeve, I wiped the grime and blood from my face, inch by inch. My movements were so slow it made the room go quiet. I lifted my eyes, looking past Tyler, past the police officers, and locked my gaze onto someone standing in the very back of the crowd. I roared, my voice echoing through the entire building. “Leo Vance is not the killer!” I pointed a trembling finger at the figure in the back, pronouncing every word clearly. “The real killer… is standing right among us!”

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My best friend, Maya, went to Dubai to work as a nanny. Out of nowhere, she video-called me, claiming a billionaire oil prince had fallen head over heels for her and they were getting married. “Chloe, I get millions in allowance every single day! Next week, I’m sending a private jet to pick you up. I’m gifting you an oil well so you can just lie in bed and count cash for the rest of your life!” I was so hyped that I quit my job on the spot, waiting for my ride. But on the day we were supposed to meet at the airport… I watched private jets land and take off all day, but none of them were for me. I even checked the customs entry list for the entire day. Maya’s name wasn’t on it. Heart pounding, I dialed her number. But all I got was a cold, computerized voice: “We’re sorry, the number you dialed is no longer in service…” I stared at my phone screen, not daring to blink. The time jumped from 2:00 PM to 8:00 PM. The air conditioning in the JFK Airport VIP lounge was freezing, raising goosebumps all over my arms. The receptionist walked over for the third time. The sharp click of her heels against the marble floor made my head throb. “Ms. Chloe, there is no Maya on today’s private flight arrivals. No flights from Dubai have even registered.” She wore a professional, fake smile, but her eyes were dripping with mockery. “That’s impossible!” I slammed my phone onto the counter. The screen displayed my chat history with Maya. In the photo, Maya was wearing a diamond-encrusted gown, leaning against a gold Bugatti with a radiant smile. “Look closely! This is the location she sent me yesterday. She said she was sending a Gulfstream G700 for me!” “She said she was taking me to Dubai to swim in cash. She was going to buy me an oil well!” The receptionist took a disgusted step back. “Ms. Chloe, you can get those photos photoshopped on Fiverr for five bucks. Or buy a fake package on Amazon.” “Your time in the VIP lounge has expired. Without active flight info, I must ask you to leave.” To wait for Maya, I had thrown my resignation letter right in my boss’s face. I hadn’t even paid my rent. All my luggage was stored at the airport lockers. If I didn’t leave now, I’d be sleeping under a bridge tonight. “Maya would never lie to me! We grew up together. I know every single freckle on her body!” I grabbed my phone and dialed that familiar number again. Yesterday, she was still bragging about how obsessed the prince was with her. She said she’d buy me a solid gold toilet just so I could experience “treating money like piece of trash.” Her voice had been high-pitched and ecstatic. In the background, I could hear loud Arabic music and the roar of sports cars. Now, there was only the robotic female voice telling me the number didn’t exist. My brain went completely numb. With trembling fingers, I opened Snapchat. Our chat history stopped at her last voice note: “Send me a photo of your passport before you get on the plane!” I sent her a question mark. A bright red exclamation mark flashed on the screen. *Message failed to send. You are not connected with this user.* Blocked? Deleted? Or account deactivated? A wave of dizziness hit me. I almost collapsed onto the floor. “Maya, you got rich and decided to dump your poor bestie, is that it?” Refusing to believe it, I clicked on her Instagram. Her profile, which had been flooded with photos of Dubai supercars, yachts, and that “oil prince” who only showed his eyes, was completely blank. Just a gray line. “Ms. Chloe, security is on their way. Please cooperate,” the receptionist’s voice went cold. I turned around, dragging my two massive suitcases, and ran. I couldn’t believe Maya would be this cruel. Last month, she couldn’t pay her rent, so I maxed out my credit card to cover her. Her ticket to Dubai was bought with my savings for a house down payment. She always said I was her only real family. She wouldn’t just vanish and delete her number. Unless… something happened to her! I took a cab straight to Maya’s old apartment. On the way, I called everyone in my contact list. “Zach, have you heard from Maya?” “Chloe, you’ve got the wrong guy. My ex was Vanessa. I’ve been single since college!” The line went dead. I cursed and called Maya’s cousin. “Jessica, is Maya with you?” “Chloe, honey, are you under too much work stress? I’m an only child. I don’t have a cousin named Maya.” The cab screeched to a halt at the entrance of a sketchy, rundown alley. My head hit the back of the seat, but I didn’t even care about the pain. I tossed a hundred-dollar bill at the driver and dashed into the dark building. I ran up to the fifth floor and began pounding furiously on the metal door of apartment 502. “Maya! Get out here!” “Don’t think you can hide from me! Give me my money back!” “If you want to cut ties, fine! Just pay me back for the plane ticket, and we’re even!” The door didn’t budge. Instead, the door of 501 swung open. An old man, reeking of cheap beer, poked his head out holding a heavy kitchen knife. “Who’s screaming in the middle of the night? You want me to chop you up?!” I flinched at the sight of the knife. I pointed at 502, my voice shaking. “I’m looking for Maya.” The old man squinted at me like I was a lunatic. “That apartment has been empty for years! Nobody lives there!” “Impossible!” I pulled out my phone and scrolled through my photos. “I helped her move in last month! Look, this is a photo of us right at this doorway!” My fingers flew across the screen until I found the photo. My voice died in my throat. The background of the photo was indeed this rusty metal door. Even the faded Halloween pumpkin decal on the door was identical. But in the photo, I was standing there completely alone, making a peace sign at the empty air, wearing a stiff, creepy smile. Maya, who was supposed to be hugging my arm, was completely gone.

Cold sweat instantly drenched my back. I stared at the photo, my fingers rubbing the screen aggressively as if I could rub her back into existence. “No… this is impossible!” “Who photoshopped this? Who touched my phone?” The old man’s anger turned into pity. He shuffled back a bit. “Kid, your brain is fried. Go home and take your meds.” The door of 501 slammed shut. The hallway fell into a dead, suffocating silence, save for the buzzing of the cheap fluorescent light. I leaned against the rusty railing, gasping for air, my heart hammering against my ribs. The deactivated phone could be a coincidence. Her relatives denying her existence could be a conspiracy. But how did the photo explain itself? My phone had never left my side. Only Maya and I knew the passcode. Had some hacker breached my phone just to wipe Maya out of my life? What kind of insane vendetta would that require? Maya was just an ordinary girl. How could she trigger someone that powerful? Unless… that “oil prince” was the problem! My brain was a chaotic mess. I knew I couldn’t stay here. I had to go home. My parents would definitely remember Maya! Maya basically lived at our house growing up because her own parents didn’t give a crap about her. She was always over at our place, eating our food. My mother, Helen, was a snob. She used to look down on Maya for being poor. But the moment she heard Maya was going to Dubai to marry a billionaire, her attitude flipped instantly. She even bought expensive glass mason jars just to pack organic jam for Maya to take with her. I stumbled down the stairs, hailed another cab, and rushed to my parents’ house. The moment I burst through the door, I saw my mom lounging on the couch, eating sunflower seeds while watching TV, and my dad, Richard, tending to his plants on the balcony. “Mom! Something terrible has happened!” I rushed over and grabbed her arm. “Maya is gone! Her phone is disconnected, her Snapchat is gone, and she’s literally vanished from our photos!” My mom flinched, spilling her seeds all over the floor. She patted her hands clean, looking irritated. “Chloe, did you go crazy just because you quit your job? Act your age.” “Mom, I’m serious! Maya said she was marrying a prince and would send us a million dollars each!” “You even asked her to get you a limited-edition crocodile Birkin bag…” My mom reached out and felt my forehead, her brow furrowing in confusion. “No fever. Why are you talking nonsense? Who the hell is Maya? What Dubai prince?” She turned and yelled toward the balcony, asking my dad if I had lost my mind over money. My dad pushed up his reading glasses and walked in. “Chloe, a job is just a job. You don’t need to make up stories to cope with losing it.” Looking at their familiar yet suddenly alien faces, a chill crept down my spine. “Mom, Dad, stop playing! Maya was my high school roommate! We slept in the same bed!” “Remember Thanksgiving two years ago? She accidentally ruined the gravy by putting chocolate syrup in it! You don’t remember that?!” I grabbed my mom’s shoulders, shaking her desperately. My mom shoved me away with surprising force. She stood up, pointing a finger angrily at my face. “Chloe, have you been possessed?” “You’ve been an awkward loner with zero friends since you were a kid! Where did this ‘Maya’ come from?” “And that Thanksgiving incident? You were the one who ruined the gravy and blamed it on a make-believe friend!” “Stop reading those trashy billionaire romance novels. They’ve rotted your brain!” I collapsed onto the floor. The cold hardwood sent a shiver through me, instantly clearing my head. A make-believe friend? I looked up at the family portrait on the wall. It was taken last Christmas. Maya had insisted on squeezing in, standing right between me and my mom. Now, in the photo, there was a bizarre, empty space between us. My posture in the photo looked incredibly unnatural. My arm was hovering in mid-air, as if wrapping around a ghost. “This photo is wrong! If I wasn’t holding someone, why is my arm raised like that?!” I pointed at the wall, my finger shaking. My mom let out a cold laugh. “You said your shoulder was stiff that day and wanted to stretch it out.” “Chloe, I’m taking you to see a therapist tomorrow. You’re having hallucinations.” Everyone was telling me it was a hallucination. If this were before, I might have actually doubted my own sanity and believed I had conjured up a best friend in my mind. But then, as my mom turned around to pour some water, I spotted something poking out from under the couch cushion. An airline ticket stub. Destination: Dubai. Passenger: Tyler. My deadbeat younger brother. The date on the ticket: Yesterday! Why did Tyler fly to Dubai on the exact same day Maya went missing? My parents were lying. They were trying so hard to deny Maya’s existence. What were they hiding? While my mom was in the kitchen, I reached under the cushion, pulled out the ticket stub, and shoved it into my pocket. The sharp edge of the paper sliced my palm. The sting kept me brutally sharp. Maya was real. Her “disappearance” was a meticulously planned crime. And my parents were accomplices.

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On the day of my wedding dress fitting, my fiancé’s childhood friend pointed at my open-back dress and burst out laughing. “Oh, Nina, isn’t this dress a bit too conservative for you? It doesn’t really match your wild style on *OnlyFans*, does it?” “Especially that red mole on your waist. It’s a carbon copy of the girl in that viral video—you know, the one who slept with three guys in one night.” I pulled the curtain shut, looking at her with cold eyes. “You looked quite closely, Lily. Did that girl also have my last name?” Lily looked terrified, instantly shrinking into my fiancé’s arms, trembling. “I’m sorry, Harrison. I just didn’t want you to be kept in the dark and marry a dirty woman.” Harrison’s face went completely black. He violently shook off my hand, wiping his palm on his pants as if I were a piece of garbage. “Nina, you make me sick. Take off that filthy dress right now!” Lily smirked, sticking her tongue out slightly before clinging to Harrison’s arm again. “Exactly. A sacred wedding dress is only meant for pure, innocent girls.” Just as Harrison reached out to tear the dress off me. The fitting room door was kicked open with a loud bang. My best friend, Chloe, who had literally just transmigrated back from a web novel world, stood there holding a shiny aluminum baseball bat. “Let’s see who dares to touch her. That girl in the video—isn’t it yourself, Lily?” **1** The metal bat slammed into the fitting mirror. With a deafening crash, the glass shattered. Shards flew everywhere, some slicing right through Harrison’s designer suit. Harrison froze, instantly releasing his grip on me. Chloe rested the bat in her palm, tapping it lightly. She tilted her chin, staring him down. “Well, aren’t we powerful, Harrison? Tearing a woman’s clothes off—is this the famous Cole family upbringing?” The store clerks outside didn’t dare to move or make a sound. I rubbed the red marks on my wrists. Harrison’s neck flushed red. He took a step back, eyeing Chloe’s bat, and growled, “This is between me and Nina! It’s none of your business! With the kind of dirty things she did, me not beating her up right here is already showing respect to her family!” Lily crept out from the corner, hiding behind Harrison, clutching his shirt. Tears welled up in her eyes. “Chloe, how could you treat Harrison like this…” Lily pointed at the lace cutout on my waist, where a small red mole sat. “I know you two are close, but the evidence is right there! The girl in that video has the exact same mole in the exact same spot! Nina made that kind of video just for money… she has no self-respect!” The people around us started whispering. “You really can’t judge a book by its cover. She looks like such an elegant designer, but in private…” “I’ve seen that site. She was really wild.” “Poor Harrison. His head is practically a forest of green.” Their judgmental stares landed on my bare back. I looked at Lily. I had sponsored her college tuition, brought her into the fashion industry, and in return, I reared a venomous snake. Just as I was about to speak, Harrison roared. The murmurs of the crowd made him lose all face. He didn’t want to investigate, nor did he want to protect me. “Nina! Haven’t you embarrassed me enough?” Harrison pointed his finger right at my nose, spitting as he yelled, his eyes filled with pure disgust. “I don’t care if it’s real or fake! As long as people are talking about it, you are dirty! The Cole family will never accept a stained bride! Now, take off that dress and get the hell out of here! Don’t let your filth ruin my eyes!” The last shred of my affection for him evaporated. This was the man I had loved for ten years. Easily swayed, double-standard, and always ready to sacrifice me to save his own face. Chloe raised her bat again. I put my hand on her arm. Chloe turned her head, her brows knitted tight. I shook my head. If we were going to end this, we were going to end it completely. I turned around, walked to the workstation, and picked up a heavy pair of tailor’s shears. Harrison took a step back, staring at me. “What are you doing? Have you lost your mind?” Lily shrieked, burying her face in Harrison’s chest. “Nina, don’t be reckless! Murder is a felony!” I looked down at this wedding dress. It had taken me three months to hand-sew it. I raised the shears and sliced down. *Rip!* The sharp sound of lace tearing and silk ripping echoed through the room. I didn’t stop. The train, the corset, the hand-beaded embroidery… Within minutes, the dress was reduced to a pile of shredded rags on the floor. I tossed the shears aside with a loud clang. Wearing only the ruined lining of the dress, I stepped over the fabric and looked up at him. “You’re right, Harrison.” I stared into his stunned face. “I don’t want filthy things either.” I grabbed Chloe’s hand and walked out. As we passed Lily, I paused. “Nice performance, Lily. Let’s hope your stage stays standing for a long, long time.” Lily’s body stiffened, but she quickly put back on her terrified face. Outside, the sun was shining brightly. We got into the car. Chloe threw the baseball bat into the back seat, slammed her foot on the gas, and the car roared forward. Neither of us spoke for a long time. Finally, Chloe broke the silence. “It’s an AI face-swap.” I leaned against the headrest, looking out the window. “I know.” Chloe glanced at me. “No, you don’t. This isn’t just a simple face-swap; it’s a plot. The original footage was filmed by Lily when she was studying abroad. She swapped her face with yours. In the original storyline of this world, you would be ruined, kicked out by the Cole family, and eventually die of severe depression.” I used to not believe in things like “storylines,” but looking at Harrison’s disgusting face today, I believed it. “A storyline?” Chloe gripped the steering wheel tighter. “But I’m back now, Nina. This time, I won’t let you lose.” I looked down at the calluses on my fingers. If Lily wanted to play, I would play with her until the very end. “Chloe.” “Yeah?” “Find the source of that video. And I want to know exactly how ‘colorful’ Lily’s life abroad really was.” Chloe let out a cold laugh. “Already on it.” The car entered a tunnel, and the world around us went dark. *** **2** My phone buzzed incessantly in my palm, the screen flashing non-stop. On my Snapchat and Instagram, the direct messages were a sea of red notifications, stuck at 999+. Lily had moved fast. Less than two hours after we left the bridal boutique, an edited video was trending at the bottom of the hot search list. The footage was heavily edited, showing only Chloe pointing a bat at Harrison, and me aggressively shredding my wedding dress. The caption read: *“Billionaire’s Bride-to-Be Caught in Wild Sex Scandal, Freaks Out After Engagement Canceled.”* The comment section was filled with paid bots and angry keyboard warriors. Photoshopped funeral pictures of me flooded my feed. My design sketches were defaced with hateful slurs. “She looks so elegant, but she’s such a slut in private.” “Why isn’t this woman dead yet?” “I heard she’s a designer? Who would dare wear her clothes? You’d catch an STD.” I swiped through the screen, taking screenshots of the most active accounts. *Thud!* The front door was kicked open, slamming hard against the wall. Harrison’s mother, Eleanor, stormed in with disheveled hair, with Lily trailing meekly behind her. Just as I stood up. *Slap!* My face whipped to the side. My ears rang, and the metallic taste of blood filled my mouth. I pressed my tongue against my cheek and looked at Eleanor. “You shameless bitch! You’ve dragged the Cole family name through the dirt!” Eleanor pointed at my face, her massive emerald ring almost scratching my eyes. “I never wanted you in our family! If Harrison hadn’t insisted, you wouldn’t even be fit to wipe our shoes! Now that video is everywhere, and the whole city is laughing at us!” Lily held Eleanor’s arm, gently patting her back. “Please calm down, Eleanor… Nina probably just made a mistake. She did it for the money…” “Money? Did the Cole family ever starve her?” Eleanor roared. “Nina, return the $500,000 engagement fund immediately! And every single piece of jewelry and designer bag Harrison bought you—spit them all out! Issue a public statement admitting that this was entirely your moral failure and has nothing to do with the Coles!” I wiped the blood from the corner of my mouth and looked at Lily. She was smirking behind Eleanor’s back. The living room was filled only with Eleanor’s shrill screaming. Lily went to get a glass of water, leaning in close to me as she passed. Her perfume was sickeningly sweet. “Does your face hurt, Nina?” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “The video might be fake, but Harrison believes it. Look at you now. Where is that proud designer attitude? I honestly can’t wait to see you completely destroyed.” With that, she quickly took two steps back, shrinking her shoulders to look weak. My phone rang in my pocket. It was Harrison. Right in front of them, I picked up and hit record. Harrison’s voice blasted through the speaker. “Nina, my mom is at your place, right? Don’t blame her for her temper. You went too far this time.” “For the sake of our ten years together, I’ll give you one last chance.” “Go to the hospital and get a virginity check and a full STD screening. Show me the clean report, and I won’t cancel the wedding.” He paused. Hearing no response from me, he continued, “But you can’t be my legal wife anymore. Lily is pure and innocent; she can’t be subjected to this humiliation. Lily will be my legal wife to keep up appearances, and I’ll buy you a penthouse to keep you as my mistress. As long as you’re submissive, I’ll still provide for you.” Keep me as a mistress? An STD screening? I gripped my phone and burst into a cold laugh. “Harrison, if the water in your brain leaked out, it could flood the entire Hudson River.” I hung up and saved the recording. This was piece of evidence number one. I looked up, staring directly at Eleanor. “I will return your money, and I don’t give a damn about any of your trashy gifts.” I took a step forward. Eleanor’s legs hit the edge of the sofa, forcing her to stumble back. “But we have some accounts to settle.” “That slap, and breaking into my house—I’ve recorded both.” I threw the front door wide open and pointed outside. “Take your precious foster daughter and get the hell out.” Eleanor’s eyes widened. “You dare kick me out? This house belongs to the Coles!” “The deed has my name on it. I paid the down payment, and I pay the mortgage. It has nothing to do with your family.” I pulled out my phone. “If you don’t leave in three seconds, I’m calling the police for home invasion and robbery.” Lily tugged at Eleanor’s sleeve. “Eleanor, let’s go first. Nina is emotionally unstable right now…” Eleanor spat on the floor as Lily guided her out. “Nina, just you wait! You’ll be begging me on your knees soon!” The door slammed shut. Silence returned. I slid down against the door, sitting on the cold hardwood floor. The recording file showed *Saved* on my screen. I wanted to cry, but I forced the tears back. Crying was useless. If I wanted to survive and drag these people down from their pedestals, I had to be dirtier and meaner than them. *** **3** The next morning, I walked into my fashion design firm. Before I even reached my desk, the pungent smell of wet paint hit my nose. My desk was covered in bright red paint, dripping onto the carpet. My sketches were torn to shreds, my computer screen was smashed into a spiderweb, and several keys had been pried off my keyboard, replaced with chewed gum. The assistants who used to call me “boss” or “mentor” kept their heads low, clutching their folders and avoiding my gaze. A few colleagues nearby weren’t even trying to hide their whispers. “How does she still have the nerve to show up?” “I heard that video is incredibly wild.” “Stay away from her. Don’t catch whatever she has.” I pushed open the door to my boss’s office. Mr. Henderson was smoking, not even looking up as he pointed at the termination contract on his desk. “Sign it.” The reason: *Severe damage to the company’s public image. Demanding heavy breach-of-contract fees.* I flipped to the last page. “The police investigation isn’t even over, and you’re already declaring me guilty?” Mr. Henderson crushed his cigarette in the ashtray and spun his chair around. “Nina, Harrison Cole personally called me. No one in this industry dares to cross the Cole family. Don’t blame me. You brought this on yourself.” I signed my name and put the pen down. “My lawyer will handle the fees.” As I stepped out of the building, my phone vibrated. It was a text message from the hospital reminding me to pay my mother’s upcoming surgery fee. I opened my banking app to wire the money. A red exclamation mark popped up: *Account Frozen.* It was a joint account between Harrison and me, but it held the life-saving money I had saved for my mother. Harrison had actually gone this far for that woman. I took a cab straight to the Cole Group headquarters. At the entrance, the security guard blocked my path. “Miss Barlow, orders from above. You are not allowed inside.” He looked anywhere but at me. “Tell Harrison to come down.” “Oh, look who it is. If it isn’t Nina.” Lily walked out from the VIP elevator, dressed in Chanel’s latest haute couture, clutching a limited-edition Hermès Birkin bag. She walked up to me and twirled. “Harrison is in a board meeting. He doesn’t have time for peasants. I heard your mother’s surgery fee is overdue? If you beg me nicely, maybe I’ll throw some spare change your way.” People were constantly passing through the lobby, and every eye was glued to me. I glanced at the bag in her hand. “Lily, that outfit was released just last month. It costs more than three years of your salary. How much limit does Harrison’s credit card even have left for you to burn?” Lily gripped her bag tighter, her neck stiffening. “Harrison loves spending money on me. What’s it to you?” “Enjoy it while it lasts.” I turned and walked away. Lily screamed behind me, “Nina! What the hell is that supposed to mean!” Back in my car, Chloe’s call came through. The background was filled with the rapid clacking of a keyboard. “I found it.” “The IP address that uploaded the video is located in the second-floor guest room of the Cole mansion—Lily’s bedroom. I tracked it further and managed to hack into her private, encrypted cloud storage.” Chloe paused. “Nina… it’s filled with her own videos. Extremely explicit, with price tags and custom services. She’s the one who’s actually filthy.” I buckled my seatbelt. “Back it up. Save it to the cloud.” “Already done. Also, I got some intel. Harrison is planning something big at the charity gala tomorrow night. He’s going to publicly cancel your engagement and announce his proposal to Lily.” The annual charity gala. It would be broadcast live across the city. Harrison wanted to completely ruin me to pave a golden path for Lily. “Tomorrow night,” I said, watching the city skyline recede in my rearview mirror. “We’ll send him an engagement present he’ll never forget.” *** At the five-star hotel ballroom. Chloe had secured two VIP invitations. We stood quietly in the shadows of a corner. Harrison entered, with Lily clinging to his arm. Lily was wearing a white mermaid gown, surrounded by a crowd praising her “artistic talent.” I stared at the dress. That was a discarded sketch I had thrown into the trash can a month ago. She had fished it out, added two cheap lines, and claimed it as her own original design. The lights dimmed, and a spotlight focused on the main stage. Harrison led Lily up to the stage and grabbed the microphone. “Ladies and gentlemen, I have an important announcement to make.” The massive LED screen behind them lit up. On the left was my professional headshot. On the right was the AI face-swapped nude photo, with the red mole on my waist heavily zoomed in. The room erupted into gasps. People started whispering, their eyes scanning the room to find me. Harrison pointed at the screen. “Nina Barlow’s private life is disgustingly wild. She makes and sells these kinds of videos. The Cole family will never accept such a vile woman! As of today, our engagement is officially null and void!” Some people clapped; others spat out curses. Suddenly, Lily clutched her stomach and stumbled backward. “Ah!” She grabbed Harrison’s suit jacket, pointing toward the VIP lounge. “Just now… Nina pushed me… my baby…” Harrison caught her, his eyes wild with fury as he swept his gaze across the room, instantly locking onto me in the corner. “Nina!” He charged down the stage. I didn’t move. In the next second, cold fingers clamped hard around my throat. Harrison slammed me against a marble pillar, his face inches from mine. “Ruining my reputation wasn’t enough? Now you want to kill my child?” I didn’t struggle. I just looked directly into his eyes. “It’s fake.” “Fake?!” Harrison grabbed a glass of red wine from a passing waiter’s tray and splashed it directly into my face. The cold liquid stung my eyes and entered my nose, making me cough violently as I bent over. Several hired instigators in the crowd immediately started shouting. “I’ve seen the video! It’s definitely her!” “Scammer! Give us back our money!” “A woman like her belongs in prison!” Security guards rushed over, grabbing my arms and dragging me to the floor. Nearby, a champagne tower wobbled slightly. Suddenly, a loud *clunk* echoed through the room. The automated doors of the ballroom locked shut. All the lights went out instantly. The massive LED screen flickered with static, turned black, and then a line of blood-red text flashed on the screen: **[WHO IS THE TRULY FILTHY ONE?]** Immediately, an unedited, raw video began to load. The loading circle spun twice. The audio came first. It was Lily’s high-pitched, moaning voice, echoing with crystal clarity through the dead-silent ballroom.

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The day Mason cheated on me, I took the Swiss Army knife he had gifted me and slashed my stepsister’s face open. After I went to prison, our marriage was automatically annulled. He finally gave my stepsister the grand, lavish wedding of her dreams. Three years later, I was released. Mason hired twenty security guards to keep a constant, paranoid watch on her. He set up fifty traps, desperate to throw me back behind bars. He even used a hundred middle managers to pass along a message: I could name any price, as long as I promised never to hurt Amber again. But he was overthinking it. Like a single drop of water merging into the ocean, I simply vanished from his life. Our next meeting was at my auto repair shop. I spit out the gum I was chewing, popped open the hood of his car with grease-stained fingers, and asked calmly, “How old is this ride?” He clenched his jaw so hard I could hear it. He squeezed the words out of his throat: “Valerie, this car was the very first gift you ever bought me.”

My hand holding the wrench paused for a fraction of a second. “Oh. Then it’s been a while. It’s due for a major overhaul.” My tone was too flat, completely devoid of emotion. Mason froze, his mouth opening and closing, but no sound came out. I tapped and checked every single bolt with my wrench, meticulous and focused. It was as if the dazzling yellow sports car in front of me was no different from the thousands of other beat-up sedans I had repaired. Perhaps the sharp clink of metal against metal grated on his nerves. Mason’s expression shifted several times before he finally forced a mocking sneer: “Valerie, if you’re short on cash, you can just call me directly.” “There’s no need to scatter nails on the road just to lure me to this godforsaken place to watch you perform.” I chuckled, chatting as casually as I would with any random customer. “If I were a good actress, I’d be in Hollywood by now.” “You came from 3rd Avenue, right? The local news mentioned this morning that a hardware truck spilled its cargo of steel nails there yesterday. You have to be careful.” As I spoke, I grabbed a rag from the counter and wiped the black grease from my hands. Mason’s eyes locked onto the rag. It was once pink, but now it was washed out to a dingy gray, the edges frayed and threadbare. He finally lost his temper, his voice rising: “Valerie, you used to be as proud as a swan.” “Claustrophobia, OCD, germaphobia—you had every single symptom of a spoiled rich girl. If a speck of dust landed on your high heels, you’d spend half an hour cleaning it. If there was a single oil spot on the dining table, you’d fire the maid on the spot…” “And look at you now…” “Hey, Val! Can you check my car? The AC is blowing hot air!” With a loud, cheerful shout, the glass door of the shop swung open. Mrs. Higgins, wearing a bright floral shirt, walked in and tossed her car keys into my hand. “You got it, Mrs. Higgins. Leave it here, I’ll check it out in a bit,” I said, catching the keys. “It probably just needs a freon recharge. Easy fix.” “Great, I’ll leave you to it.” She patted my shoulder warmly, then glanced at Mason. She lowered her voice. “You have a customer? I’ll get out of your hair then. Talk to you later!” After waving goodbye to Mrs. Higgins, I realized I still had a client waiting. I offered Mason a polite, professional smile. “Right, Mr. Miller. Your car is good to go. That’ll be twenty bucks.” “You…” Mason stared at me blankly. It took him a long time to utter that single word, as if he lacked the strength to say anything else. Instead, he hurriedly pulled out his phone, searching for a QR code to scan. When I saw the $500 notification on my screen, I waved my hands immediately. “Mr. Miller, you overpaid. Let me send the change back to you.” As I spoke, I instinctively opened Snapchat to find his contact. Then I remembered. The day I was sent to prison, he had blocked me on everything. Slightly embarrassed, I scratched my head. “Well, this is awkward. Mr. Miller, could you show me your Venmo QR code instead?” “Didn’t you… didn’t you say the car needed a major overhaul?” Mason’s expression was incredibly complex. “Check the other parts for me. Is this enough?” I smiled, genuinely pleased. “More than enough. It’s plenty. Please, have a seat while you wait.” I grabbed a small, folding camp stool from the corner and pushed it toward him. Looking at his perfectly tailored designer suit, I found a relatively clean cloth and laid it over the stool for him. Mason remained silent for a long time before gingerly sitting down. He sat elegantly, hands resting on his knees, looking entirely out of place. A second later, the squeak of the glass door startled him. “Hey, Val! Still working during lunch? Business must be booming! No wonder you ordered the double-entree lunch special today.” “Whoa, a luxury sports car. We’ve got a VIP client today!” It was Toby, the delivery guy who brought me lunch every day. I laughed and traded a few jokes with him before taking the paper bag from his hands. Hearing himself called a “VIP,” Mason shifted uncomfortably, turning his head slightly and letting out a quiet sigh. But there was nothing I could do about it. The neighborhood was just like this. Chloe, who owned the nail salon next door, ran in to ask if I wanted to grab hotpot with her tonight. A young guy from the upstairs apartment came down dragging a heavy suitcase, asking if he could leave it in my shop until he got back tonight. A high school girl rushed in, frantically asking if I had a portable charger she could borrow. Their eyes were full of curiosity, lingering on Mason’s expensive suit and striking looks. Finally, unable to bear it any longer, Mason crossed his legs and shifted on the tiny stool. “Valerie, have you really degraded yourself to this point? Hanging out with… these lowlifes?”

His eyes looked slightly red, though I might have been mistaken. After sewing uniforms in a federal prison for three years, my eyes tended to play tricks on me. “The car is in great shape,” I said, straightening up and wiping the sweat from my forehead with my elbow. “But the brake pads are a bit worn. You should get them replaced. My shop is too small to carry OEM parts, so you’ll have to go to an authorized dealership.” I pointed him in the direction of the nearest dealership and immediately opened my lunchbox. Orange chicken, beef stir-fry, and some greasy veggies—all my favorites. But even as I snapped my wooden chopsticks apart, Mason made no move to leave. Confused, I thought about it for a second and pushed the takeout box toward him. “Are you hungry, Mr. Miller? If you don’t mind, you can have some.” Mason’s gaze flickered. His eyes lingered on the black grease permanently stained under my fingernails, then drifted to the shiny, oily food in the box. When he spoke, his voice was raspy: “This is all cheap, processed microwave food. It’s unhealthy… You never used to eat this.” In his memory, I was a picky eater who only ate organic salads and fresh sashimi. If the food was even slightly un-fresh, I would spend the night throwing up in the bathroom. I smiled. “Well, prison food doesn’t have much flavor, and now I do manual labor all day. It cured all my spoiled habits.” “Every takeout place uses pre-made ingredients nowadays. Their spicy chicken is actually really good. You should try some, Mr. Miller.” “Oh, look! They even threw in an extra packet of chili oil today. What a steal!” I happily took the chili oil packet and tossed it into a plastic storage bin behind me. The bin was already half-full of free condiment packets. On tight days, buying a loaf of bread and using these was enough to get by. Mason suddenly stood up, his voice thick with emotion: “Stop it!” I froze, startled by his sudden outburst. In the next second, he threw a black card onto the counter. “This is my secondary card. Take it.” He moved so abruptly that he knocked over the small camp stool and almost flipped my lunchbox. Fortunately, my reflexes were quick. I leaned to the side and shielded my precious orange chicken. “Mr. Miller,” I said, feeling a bit helpless. “If you’re not going to eat, I’d like to finish my lunch…” “Valerie!” Mason growled, his voice trembling with suppressed rage. “I’m serious!” “This card is linked to my platinum account. It has a five-million-dollar limit. Use it however you want.” “Buy a nice storefront. Start a real, clean business. Be your own boss. Stop staying in this filthy hole working as a grease monkey!” “You used to be an elite skier from a wealthy family! Have you forgotten who you are?!” His roaring words echoed in the small shop, instantly dragging me back into the past. My family indeed used to be incredibly wealthy. My father was one of the top venture capitalists in Seattle. I was the pampered, only daughter of a billionaire family until I was seven, when my mother got pregnant with twin girls. But just as we were happily anticipating the arrival of my baby sisters, my father’s affair came to light. He fell head over heels for a mixed-race model, loving her with a passion that defied all logic. It got so bad that the mistress literally showed up at our house, demanding my mother sign the divorce papers. My mother was a proud, fiery woman. A fierce argument broke out. In the chaos, I saw with my own eyes that woman extending her long, red manicured nails, grabbing my mother by the throat, and shoving her down the grand spiral staircase. One mother, two unborn babies. Dead on impact. Afterward, to force me to change my police statement, my father locked me in the basement and beat me for a day and a night. His abuse eventually bought his mistress’s acquittal. They got married. The mistress brought her own daughter from a previous marriage—my stepsister, Amber. And so, my living nightmare began. The beatings, the verbal abuse, the false accusations, the non-stop bullying. To survive, I fled to Switzerland. I trained like a madwoman, became a competitive skier, and took the sports world by storm. Back then, Mason was studying at a prestigious business school in Zurich. After catching a glimpse of me on a live broadcast, he became my most devoted fan. Every time I crossed the finish line, he would be in the front row of the stands, holding a giant banner with my name, screaming at the top of his lungs. When a corrupt referee unfairly disqualified me, he led a protest with his classmates through the Swiss streets just to demand justice for me. He was there to comfort me through my injuries, and he encouraged me through my darkest lows. Finally, when I crossed the finish line in first place at the championships, I unbuckled my skis and ran straight toward him in the stands. Amidst the swirling confetti and the roaring crowd, under the gaze of thousands, I hugged him tightly. The dynamic of idol and fan ended there. He became my publicly acknowledged boyfriend. But I never could have imagined that on the night of my victory, as we strolled down a quiet Swiss street, two armed muggers would jump us from the shadows. They wanted our money and watches. To protect me, Mason immediately lunged at them, getting into a brutal fight. I was terrified. Fearing he would get hurt, I threw myself into the scuffle without a second thought. In the chaotic frenzy, a gunshot echoed. A bullet pierced my chest. It didn’t kill me, but it collapsed my lung and scraped past my heart. From that day on, I could never participate in any extreme sports again. Including skiing. But I never regretted it. Mason was the love of my life. His safety was far more important than any trophy. I could have won a hundred gold medals, but I only had one Mason. As I lay in the hospital bed, weakly holding his hand and whispering those words to him, he wept uncontrollably, burying his face in my chest. “Valerie, let’s go back to the States. My family has deep connections in both politics and business. No matter what you want to do next, I will back you up to the end!” Mason was that kind of man. He wasn’t good with sweet words, but he showed his love through action. Filled with hope and joy, I held his hand as we flew back home. At the airport, we were met by Amber. The moment she saw the wealthy young heir standing next to me, her eyes widened in shock, but she quickly masked it with a brilliant, sweet smile. It reminded me so much of her gold-digging mother standing next to my father. Their smiles had the exact same, calculating curve. And that dark premonition quickly became reality.

I don’t know when it started, but Mason began mentioning Amber more and more. At first, he said she was sweet and obedient. Then, he said she was pitiful, living under another family’s roof. Eventually, it became: “Valerie, stop bullying Amber all the time.” I wanted to have a serious talk with him, but it coincided with the anniversary of my mother and sisters’ deaths. I had to focus on the memorial service first. But when I returned home from the cemetery, I witnessed a scene that would haunt me for the rest of my life. Mason and Amber, those two disgusting hypocrites, were lying naked on my white bedsheets, tangled together in passion. “Hehe, Mason, why didn’t you go to your future mother-in-law’s memorial today?” “What mother-in-law?… A dead woman from the countryside doesn’t deserve that title… If I had to choose a mother-in-law, I’d choose yours…” A loud buzzing filled my ears. I completely lost my mind. I charged into the room like a feral animal, grabbing the knife on the nightstand and swinging. The blade sliced right across Amber’s beautiful, flawless face. Her blood-curdling screams still echo in my mind. Honestly, it was incredibly satisfying. After the incident, considering I was the victim of a betrayal, the judge initially wanted to give me a suspended sentence. But Mason hired the most expensive legal team in the country, even bribing witnesses to commit perjury, just to ensure I received a solid three-year prison sentence. Time flies. It has been seven years since I was released from prison. I exhaled slowly, quietly studying the man standing before me. It must be nice to be rich. Time hadn’t left a single mark on this handsome man’s face. But it had gifted me with cracked skin on my hands, a chin-length haircut for convenience, and grease permanently embedded under my nails. I gently pushed the black card back to him. “There’s no need, Mr. Miller. I’m doing quite well now.” “I have food, shelter, and my freedom. I’m not stealing or begging. I earn my living with my own two hands.” “I’m just an ordinary citizen. No great wealth, but no great tragedies either.” But Mason stubbornly kept his hand extended. “Just take it… as my compensation to you. Once you take the money, let go of your resentment. We’ll be even.” I looked at him, slightly amused. The arrogant young master of the Miller family had actually learned how to compensate someone. In the past, he never bowed his head to anyone. “That’s even less necessary. I saved your life because you were my boyfriend at the time, and I went to prison because I voluntarily assaulted someone. That’s just justice.” “Neither of us owes the other anything.” Mason clenched his fists, his eyes locking onto mine. It was as if he was trying to confirm, over and over again, that the woman standing in front of him was indeed Valerie. Finally, his head dropped slowly, and a faint glint of moisture appeared in the corners of his eyes. “Valerie… you’ve become such a stranger.” I glanced at the clock on the wall. “We haven’t seen each other in years. It’s only natural.” “Back then… I just lost control of my emotions for a moment,” he stammered, his voice cracking. “For all these years, I’ve been thinking… if you hadn’t impulsively committed that crime, I would have married you out of guilt. I would have treated you a thousand times better…” I remained silent, letting the ticking of the clock stretch the quiet into infinity. “Everyone has their own path to walk.” I pulled a lollipop from my pocket, peeled off the wrapper, and popped it into my mouth. “Never regret what you’ve done, and never look back.” “You—” Mason was choked up by my simple words. After a long pause, he said half-angrily: “One thing about you hasn’t changed. You’re still as stubborn as a rock!” I nodded cheerfully. “My neighbors say the same thing. They call it persistence.” “Valerie!” Mason clenched his fists. After hesitating for a long time, he suddenly called me by my old nickname. I dazed for a moment. The way he pronounced those syllables was exactly the same as before. Seeing me space out, his voice softened: “If you won’t accept my money, I can talk to your father for you. You probably don’t know, but Arthur has late-stage pancreatic cancer. The doctors say he doesn’t have much time left.” “If you ask for his forgiveness now, you can still get a share of the inheritance. It’ll be enough for you to live luxuriously for the rest of your life…” “Really?” I smiled genuinely. “Karma finally caught up to him.” Having his suggestions shut down repeatedly, Mason finally snapped. He grabbed my arm, trying to drag me toward his sports car. “Valerie, how long are you going to keep up this stubborn act?!” “Look at yourself! Look at what you’ve become!” “Renting a tiny, dark apartment, doing this filthy, exhausting manual labor!” “Eating greasy, cheap takeout, getting excited over a thirty-cent condiment packet!” “Do you think living like this makes you look cool? Or unique? Do you think it’s attractive?” “You’re just a low-class mechanic! The absolute bottom of society!” I looked down at myself—my overalls were covered in grease, my hair was tied in a messy ponytail, and there was probably dirt on my face. I argued back honestly: “It’s not that bad. At least I still have a clean, scar-free face. Unlike some people…” As if his tail had been stepped on, Mason’s face flushed red, and he practically jumped: “Amber has had reconstructive surgery! It’s completely fixed! Even though there are scars, she can cover them with makeup!” “But you? You smell like motor oil, and your hands are as rough as sandpaper! What man could ever stand you?!” Getting increasingly emotional, he started swinging his expensive Hermès bag at me as if to beat some sense into me. Right then, the glass door creaked open again. A boy and a girl, like two little rockets, came bursting into the shop…

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “442717”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster

On our fifteenth wedding anniversary, Ethan’s mistress showed up at my doorstep. She played a video of their intimacy right in front of my face. It was filmed in our own bedroom. Ethan was holding Amber, whispering over and over again how much he loved her. Amber caressed her flat stomach. “I’m pregnant. It’s his.” I froze. “And?” She smirked with pure provocation. “Ethan said he wants me to keep the baby.” I didn’t break down the way she wanted me to. I even smiled and told her, “Okay.” I just thought to myself—love really does have an expiration date. Fifteen years ago, I saved his life and lost the ability to ever become a mother. Back then, Ethan knelt by my hospital bed, crying, promising he never wanted kids. He said I was the only one he needed for the rest of his life. But promises expire. Since he forgot his, I would be the one to fulfill it. Starting today, I will arrange a grand exit. I will make sure Ethan never finds me again for the rest of his miserable life. Olivia’s POV When Amber slid her phone across the table, the muffled, heavy breathing of a man started playing from the screen. Soft piano music filled the cozy coffee shop, while outside, the rain beat down on the busiest street of downtown Seattle. Everyone knew today was Ethan and my fifteenth wedding anniversary. The whole city was waiting to see what grand romantic gesture Ethan had prepared for me tonight. But as I looked down, I was greeted by a very different kind of “surprise.” In the video, Ethan’s shirt was torn open. Amber’s soft arms were wrapped tightly around his neck, her face tilted up, her voice sickeningly sweet. “Ethan, I’m pregnant.” The camera shook slightly. Ethan didn’t push her away. My fingers clenched. The coffee in my cup trembled, and a drop of the dark liquid splashed onto my snowy white cuff, leaving an ugly, stubborn stain. Amber sat across from me. She slowly took her phone back, her smile innocent yet triumphant. “Olivia, did you see that clearly?” I looked up at her. In her eyes, I saw my reflection. I looked beautiful—the kind of beauty that remained unbroken even after years of quiet suffering. I didn’t show her the panic or despair she was desperate to see. “Faking a video isn’t hard,” I said softly. “Do you really think I’m that gullible, Amber?” Amber giggled, then tapped her screen to open another video. This time, there was no hiding behind clever angles. It was security footage from a hotel hallway. Ethan was carrying a disheveled Amber into a room. He didn’t walk out until three in the morning. As he stepped into the hallway, he pulled out his phone and made a call. His voice had been so gentle, almost cautious. “Olivia, something came up at the office. I won’t be home tonight. Go to sleep early, okay?” I remembered that call. That night, my chronic stomach ulcer had flared up. I was sweating cold from the pain, but I still forced a smile over the phone and told him, “Okay, babe. Don’t work too hard.” It turned out he wasn’t working. He was in another woman’s bed. Amber watched the color drain from my face, her hand gently resting on her belly. “I’m six weeks pregnant. Ethan said we are keeping this baby.” My breath hitched. A baby. Those words felt like a dull, rusty knife stabbing into the deepest, most sensitive part of my soul. Fifteen years ago, Ethan and I got married. Back then, he was the black sheep of the wealthy family, surrounded by ruthless business enemies. Three months into our marriage, Ethan was kidnapped. His captors didn’t want money—they wanted his life. I went to the drop-off location alone, trading myself to get him out of that abandoned warehouse. They kept me locked up for three days. When I finally woke up in the ICU, the sharp smell of bleach made me gag. The doctor stood by my bed, his voice full of pity. “Olivia, the internal damage was too severe. I’m afraid you can never have children.” That day, Ethan knelt by my bed, his eyes bloodshot. He squeezed my hand and sobbed, “Olivia, I don’t care about kids. I only want you. Just you.” For the next fifteen years, whenever his snobbish mother, Madeline, brought up the family line, Ethan would block her cold. He used to tell everyone, “If anyone pressures Olivia about kids again, you’re dead to me.” I believed him. I thought the whole world might judge me for being barren, but never Ethan. Yet here was Amber, rubbing her stomach, telling me Ethan wanted this child. How pathetic. I sacrificed my womanhood to save his life, and he went and got another woman pregnant. Seeing my silence, Amber assumed she had finally broken me. Her smirk widened. “Olivia, you have to understand Ethan. The family empire needs an heir. Since you can’t produce one, you can’t expect him to stay childless forever, right?” I slowly raised my eyes. Amber leaned in close, whispering, “So what if he loves you? A man’s love is nothing compared to his legacy. Besides, when he was holding me last night, he certainly didn’t look like he was being forced.” Slap! The sharp sound cut through the quiet coffee shop. Even the piano music seemed to skip a beat. Amber’s head snapped to the side. She clutched her burning cheek, staring at me in utter shock. “You… you slapped me?” I stood up, looking down at her cold-eyed. “That was for ruining my morning.” Amber’s eyes flared with pure venom. “Who do you think you are, Olivia? Ethan is keeping my baby! You’ve clung to the title of his wife for fifteen years, but in the end, you still couldn’t give him what he wanted most!” My chest throbbed with a suffocating pain, but I didn’t let myself take a single step back.

Olivia’s POV I picked up a napkin from the table and slowly wiped the coffee stain from my sleeve, as if wiping away something utterly repulsive. “Amber, you better pray he can protect you for the rest of your life.” Amber sneered. “Of course he will. Because the heir to the family fortune is inside my belly.” I looked at her, and suddenly, an overwhelming wave of exhaustion hit me. I wasn’t tired of losing to Amber. I was tired of the fifteen years of love, trust, and the marriage I had built with my own hands, all collapsing into dust in a single second. I didn’t argue. Arguing was cheap and pathetic. I grabbed my purse and turned to leave. Behind me, Amber’s voice chased after me, dripping with smug victory. “Don’t forget to look at the giant billboard downtown tonight, Olivia! Ethan’s anniversary confession is broadcasting live city-wide!” My footsteps paused, but I didn’t look back. I pushed open the glass door of the coffee shop. The cold wind rushed over me, making my eyes sting. The next second, the massive digital billboard in the center of the plaza lit up. The crowd around me gasped in awe. “Oh my god, look! It’s Ethan!” “Wow, his wife is so lucky. Fifteen years of marriage and he’s still this romantic!” I stood frozen in the middle of the crowd, slowly raising my head. On the screen, Ethan wore the custom black suit I had handpicked for him. His eyes were as warm and gentle as always. Looking straight at the camera, his deep voice echoed through the speakers. “Happy fifteenth anniversary, Olivia.” “You are the only one I will ever love.” All around me were whispers of envy and admiration. To me, it was nothing but a sick joke. I thought of the hotel video, of his heavy breathing as he held Amber. I thought of him kneeling by my hospital bed, swearing he didn’t want kids. I thought of our wedding day, when he promised that if he ever betrayed me, he would disappear from my life forever. Promises really do expire. Looking at the deeply devoted man on the screen, I let out a soft, cold laugh. Since Ethan forgot his vow… I would make sure it came true. Starting today, I would plan my disappearance. I would make sure Ethan could never find me again. On the screen, Ethan was still smiling. His face was magnified to a towering height, the city lights reflecting in his dark eyes—perfect, handsome, and utterly flawless. “Olivia, thank you for being by my side for fifteen years.” Below the screen, a young girl holding a cup of boba sighed. “This is true love. Fifteen years and he still does this.” “She must be the happiest woman in the world.” Standing in the crowd, listening to the waves of envy crashing over me, I felt like a prized exhibit in a museum. Everyone was admiring my “perfect life.” But only I knew that beneath the shiny, golden shell, it was completely rotten. On the screen, Ethan lowered his head slightly, as if looking directly at me through the sea of people. “I know you’ve endured a lot of pain over the years, and I know I owe you so much. I promise to spend every anniversary with you for the rest of our lives.” My fingers went numb. Owe me so much. Oh, he absolutely owed me. He owed me a body that could no longer bear life. He owed me for the fifteen years I swallowed my pride to keep his family happy. He owed me for every single time I had to pretend everything was fine in front of his toxic mother. And he owed me an explanation. But he didn’t give me one. Instead, he gave Amber a baby, and gave me a public humiliation masquerading as a love letter. My phone buzzed in my hand. It was an image from Amber.

Olivia’s POV The photo showed a woman’s hand with pale pink nails resting gently on a man’s wrist. The watch on the man’s wrist was one I knew too well—it was the birthday present I had bought for Ethan last year. Below the photo was a text message: 【He’s on his way to see you right now, Olivia. Guess whose bed he just got out of?】 I stared at the text, a sharp pain twisting my stomach. I didn’t reply. I tossed my phone into my purse and walked away from the crowd. My car was parked at the end of the block. My driver, Joe, noticed my pale face and immediately got out to open the door for me. “Are we heading home, ma’am?” I sat in the backseat, pausing for a long moment before saying, “Not yet.” Joe glanced at me through the rearview mirror but didn’t ask questions. “Where to, then?” I gave him an address. It was a small consulting firm located in an old building in the industrial district. It had a very ordinary name: The Clean Slate Agency. Three years ago, I had helped the founder of this agency during a charity gala. When she handed me her business card, she had said only one thing: “If there ever comes a day when you need to safely disappear from your life, Olivia, call me.” Back then, I thought it was ridiculous. I had Ethan. Why would I ever need to disappear? The city lights blurred past my window. I closed my eyes, but I couldn’t block out the voices from the video. “Ethan, I’m pregnant.” “We are keeping this baby.” I suddenly recalled the first time Madeline, his mother, had told me to my face that the family legacy couldn’t end with a barren woman. That night at the dinner table, everyone had gone dead silent. Only Ethan had put down his fork, his voice icy. “I married Olivia because I love her, not to use her as an incubator.” At that moment, I genuinely believed I was cherished. But people change. And vows turn into the ultimate mockery. The Clean Slate Agency was on the twelfth floor. The receptionist recognized me immediately. Without any surprise, she quietly led me into a private conference room. Ten minutes later, a middle-aged woman in a sharp gray suit walked in. “Olivia, it’s been a while.” I looked at her. “Sam, I need you to arrange my disappearance.” Sam sat down, pushing a glass of warm water toward me without asking probing questions. “A divorce, moving abroad, a new identity, or cutting all ties completely?” I wrapped my hands around the warm glass, the heat stinging my cold palms. After a long silence, I spoke. “A fake death.” Sam’s eyes flickered. “Olivia, that’s not a standard package. It means leaving everything you own behind. Your wealth, your social circle, your status, and even your name.” “I know.” “Ethan is a powerful man. If he suspects anything, he will dig until he finds the truth. It will be very difficult.” I looked up. “That’s why I need you to make it absolutely flawless.” Sam studied me for a few seconds. “Timeline?” I looked out the window. In the distance, the giant billboard was still flashing Ethan’s face, playing his confession on a loop like a beautiful knife repeatedly slicing open my heart. My voice was dead calm. “One month.” Sam asked, “Why one month?” I lowered my eyes. Because I wanted to see just how deep Ethan could cut me before I left. And because fifteen years of marriage deserved a clean, final wrap-up. But I didn’t say any of that. I just set the glass down, my voice as quiet as falling dust. “I want Olivia to be completely dead to Ethan’s world in exactly one month.”

Olivia’s POV By the time I walked out of the agency, the night had turned pitch black. I didn’t let Joe drive off immediately. I just stood on the sidewalk, letting the freezing wind bite my face. When my phone rang, I saw the caller ID. My finger hesitated. Ethan. I picked up, my voice showing no emotion. “Hey.” “Where are you?” Ethan’s deep voice was filled with his usual concern. “Joe said you weren’t home. Are you feeling sick again?” I watched a young couple in a convenience store across the street, laughing as they picked out hot drinks. My throat tightened. “Just tired. Out getting some fresh air.” “Send me your location. I’ll come pick you up.” I wanted to say no, but the words died in my throat. “Okay.” Twenty minutes later, a sleek black Maybach pulled up to the curb. Ethan got out, still wearing the exact same suit from the broadcast. Impeccable cut, perfect cuffs, and the watch I gave him sitting prominently on his wrist. My eyes lingered on the watch. In the photo, Amber’s hand had been resting right there. Ethan didn’t notice my stare. He quickly walked over and touched my forehead with his hand. “Why are you so pale? Is your stomach hurting again?” His hand was warm. I used to crave this warmth. Whenever I couldn’t sleep, Ethan would wrap his arms around me from behind, and the world would instantly feel safe. But now, as his hand rested on my skin, I only felt sick. I turned my head away, avoiding his touch. “I’m fine.” Ethan’s hand froze in mid-air, but he quickly withdrew it smoothly. “Are you still upset about the broadcast? I wanted to watch it with you, but something urgent came up at work.” Something urgent at work. I almost laughed out loud. He was always like this—lying with such smooth sincerity that it made you feel like you were the crazy one for doubting him. I didn’t call him out. I only asked, “Ethan, do you remember what you said on our wedding day?” Ethan blinked, startled. “Why are you bringing that up all of a sudden?” “Do you remember?” The streetlights stretched our shadows. Ethan looked at me, his gaze softening. “I remember.” Our wedding fifteen years ago wasn’t huge. Back then, Ethan had just taken over the family company, facing threats from both inside and out. Everyone was waiting for him to fail. At the ceremony, his mother Madeline didn’t even smile. She barely tolerated my presence. But as Ethan led me down the aisle, he held my hand so tight it hurt. In front of all the guests, he said, “Olivia, you are the only one for me. If I ever betray you, let me lose the right to ever see you again.” The guests had cheered, and I had laughed with tears in my eyes. I thought it was a lifetime vow. Ethan smiled faintly as he recalled the memory. “I said, if I ever betrayed you, I’d never see you again.” I looked into his eyes. “Did you mean it back then?” Ethan frowned slightly, looking a bit helpless at my questioning. “Of course I did.” He reached out to hold my hand. “Olivia, I know my mother has been putting pressure on you lately. Don’t listen to her. Having kids doesn’t matter to me. It never has.” I didn’t move. I watched him, feeling something inside me sink into a dark, bottomless abyss. If I hadn’t seen the video, I probably would have teared up at those words. But now, it was just pathetic. How could a man tell me kids didn’t matter, while simultaneously deciding to keep another woman’s baby? Ethan finally noticed my cold silence. “Olivia, what’s wrong with you today?” I shook my head. “Nothing.” I got into the car, my movements smooth and completely detached. Ethan stood there for a second before joining me in the backseat. On the way back, neither of us spoke. The car was filled with his usual cedarwood cologne, but there was also a very faint, foreign scent of women’s perfume. I rolled down the window a crack. The freezing wind rushed in, making my eyes water. Thinking I was cold, Ethan reached over to close it. I held the button down. “Leave it.” Ethan’s hand paused. “Olivia.” I didn’t turn to look at him. He said softly, “No matter what happens, I will always be here for you.” I stared at the passing neon lights, my heart dead silent. No, you won’t, Ethan. From the moment you betrayed me, you were already gone. Since you forgot your vow, I’ll be the one to make sure you keep it. We will never see each other again.

Olivia’s POV By the time we got back to our estate, the maid had reheated dinner for the third time. Worried about my stomach, Ethan personally scooped a bowl of soup and placed it in front of me. “Eat a little.” I stared at the soup. Ethan used to be incredibly busy, but whenever my stomach acted up, he would personally supervise my meals. Those tiny, caring details were what kept me going through all the cold shoulders I received from his family. But now, looking at them, they just felt degrading. How could a man split his tenderness so precisely—one half for his wife, the other for his mistress? I picked up the spoon and forced myself to swallow a few sips. Ethan let out a sigh of relief, reaching over to tuck a stray lock of hair behind my ear. “I cleared my schedule tomorrow. I’ll take you to that art exhibition you wanted to see.” I kept my eyes down. “No need. You’re busy.” Ethan paused. “Never too busy for you.” Right after he said those words, his phone on the table began to buzz. The screen lit up. There was no contact name, just an unsaved number. But I saw the subtle shift in Ethan’s eyes. He pressed decline, pretending nothing happened, and continued eating. Within thirty seconds, it buzzed again. I put down my spoon. “Answer it.” Ethan looked at me. “It’s not important.” When it buzzed for the third time, I finally let out a small, mocking laugh. “Ethan, people don’t call three times if it’s not important.” He was silent for a moment before picking up the phone and walking out to the balcony. The sliding glass door had excellent soundproofing. I couldn’t hear what he was saying, but I saw his shoulders tense up as he rubbed his temples. When he came back inside, his voice was perfectly normal. “An urgent issue came up with an overseas branch. I have to head to the office.” I looked at him. “Now?” “Yeah. I might be late.” I nodded. “Go ahead.” Ethan didn’t seem used to my calm reaction. Before leaving, he leaned down to kiss my forehead. I turned my head. His lips met empty air. The room went dead silent for a second. Ethan asked softly, “Still feeling sick?” “Acid reflux,” I said. “I don’t want to throw up on you.” It was a perfectly logical excuse. A flash of worry crossed Ethan’s eyes. “I’ll have the family doctor come over.” “No need.” My voice was quiet. “Don’t you have somewhere to be?” Ethan stared at me for a few seconds before finally grabbing his coat and walking out. The moment the heavy front door clicked shut, the massive villa plunged back into silence. I sat at the table, motionless. Ten minutes later, my phone pinged. Amber had sent another photo. It showed Ethan’s car parked right outside a high-end private women’s hospital. Amber was standing on the steps, wearing Ethan’s coat over her shoulders. Her face looked pale, but her hand was wrapped tightly around his arm. 【Did Ethan tell you he had work tonight, Olivia?】 Immediately followed by another text: 【He just rubbed my belly. You have no idea how excited he is for this baby.】 I stared at the screen for a long time. Until my eyes burned, I flipped the phone face down on the table. When heartbreak reaches its limit, you don’t scream or cry. You just feel cold. A cold so deep that even breathing feels like swallowing glass. I got up and walked upstairs to our bedroom. On the nightstand sat a framed photo of us from our tenth anniversary at a ski resort. Ethan was holding me from behind, kissing the top of my head. I was smiling, my eyes full of complete, unshakeable trust. I picked up the frame, my fingers brushing over my younger self. How foolish I had been. I actually believed love could make up for all my sacrifices. I opened the drawer and pulled out a pair of scissors. Snip. The photo was cut right down the middle. I kept my half, tucking it deep into the drawer, and threw his half into the trash can. My phone buzzed again. This time, Amber sent only one sentence: 【Tomorrow night at eight, Seattle Auction House. Your mother’s heirloom is putting up for bid. Do you have the courage to show up?】 My grip on the phone tightened. My mother’s heirloom. I raised my head. In the vanity mirror, the woman looking back was pale, but her eyes had gone entirely cold. Amber could ruin my marriage. But she crossed the line when she touched my mother’s memory.

Olivia’s POV The next evening, I went to the Seattle Auction House alone. Ethan had called me in the afternoon, saying he had a business dinner and couldn’t make it home. I had heard Amber’s faint coughing in the background over the phone, but I just replied with a quiet, “Okay.” I didn’t ask. Asking would only bring more polished lies. The auction hall was bright, filled with Seattle’s elite dressed in tuxedos and evening gowns. I sat in the back row, my hat pulled low, quietly flipping through the catalog. When I reached item seventeen, my fingers stopped. It was a vintage emerald brooch. Waterdrop shaped, bordered with delicate diamonds, with a tiny letter “O” engraved on the back. Before my mother passed away, she had left this brooch to me. But when my family went bankrupt years ago, our estate was seized, and many belongings were scattered. I had spent years searching for this brooch to no avail. My chest tightened as I stared at the page. How did Amber find out about this? Once the auction started, I kept my bidding paddle down. When the emerald brooch was finally brought to the stage and the auctioneer announced the opening bid, the light in the VIP balcony on the second floor lit up instantly. “One million dollars.” Whispers broke out around me. “Mr. Ethan is bidding.” “It must be for his wife. Their anniversary was just yesterday, right?” I looked up at the private balcony. The glass was tinted, obscuring the people inside, but I could make out Ethan’s sharp, stern silhouette sitting on the leather sofa. My phone buzzed. A text from Ethan: 【Heading home tonight. I bought a surprise for you.】 Looking at the text, my heart felt like it was being squeezed by an invisible hand. If I hadn’t seen those videos, if Amber hadn’t rubbed it in my face, I would have truly believed Ethan bought this because he remembered my mother. A second later, Amber’s text popped up: 【Don’t get ahead of yourself. Want to guess who will actually be wearing this tonight?】 I raised my head. The door to the private balcony on the second floor opened slightly. Amber stood in the shadow, smirking down at me. She was wearing Ethan’s suit jacket over a sleek, low-cut silk dress, her hand resting protectively over her stomach. I suddenly realized Amber didn’t care about the brooch. She was just here to stomp on the very last piece of my heart. The bidding ended quickly. Ethan secured the brooch for three million dollars. When the hammer fell, my eyes welled up, but I forced myself to sit still. Half an hour later, the auction went on intermission. I got up to use the restroom. As I walked down the side hallway, I heard Amber’s soft laughter coming from a private lounge. The door wasn’t fully closed. I stopped. Through the crack, Ethan was sitting on the sofa, his brow furrowed with slight impatience. Amber, however, was leaning close, pulling his hand to rest on her belly. “Ethan, I think the baby just moved.” Ethan said softly, “It’s only been six weeks, Amber. It doesn’t move yet.” Amber pouted. “But I just want you to feel him.” Standing outside the door, I felt the blood in my veins turn to ice. Ethan didn’t pull his hand away. The hand that had once held mine by my hospital bed, swearing he didn’t care about having children, was now being pressed onto another woman’s stomach. I couldn’t look anymore. I turned and walked away. By the time I got back to the estate, the living room lights were on. Ethan arrived thirty minutes after me, carrying a beautifully wrapped jewelry box. “Have you been waiting long?” He walked over, his voice unusually tender. “Open it.” I looked down. Inside the box was not my mother’s emerald brooch. It was a brand-new diamond necklace—exorbitantly expensive, dazzling, and completely foreign. Ethan said, “I thought this suited you better. The brooch was too old and worn out. I had my assistant take it to a specialist for restoration first.” I looked him in the eye. “Where is the brooch?” Ethan hesitated for a fraction of a second. “I’ll give it to you in a few days.” I felt a sudden, profound exhaustion. Even his lies were getting lazy. My phone vibrated. It was a location drop from Amber. Seattle Auction House, Underground Parking, Section B. Accompanied by a text: 【Your mother’s brooch is on me. Do you have the guts to come see?】 I slowly closed the jewelry box. “I feel a bit suffocated. I’m going out for a walk.” Ethan stood up. “I’ll go with you.” “No need.” I grabbed my coat and headed out the door. This time, I was going to see exactly how disgusting Ethan could truly get.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “442031”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster

A friend of Theodore Shaw’s had gotten his hands on a micro-expression polygraph from overseas and egged everyone on to test who Theodore loved most right there in the private room. Everyone thought that after I had lowered myself and played the obedient fiancee at Theodore’s side for four years, even a stone should have warmed by now. At the very least, his heart should have stirred a little. But when my photo appeared on the big screen, the green line on the polygraph stayed as flat as a dead pond. And when Lily Vance’s photo appeared, his heart rate shot straight up to 150. His friends mocked me one after another. “The second the one who got away comes back, the stand-in is scrapped on the spot!” I sat in the corner, perfectly calm. They thought I was swallowing humiliation for love, but they had no idea there was a translucent panel hanging above my head that only I could see. [Countdown: 30 days.] Ethan Cole, wait for me. If I endure just 30 more days, I can take the mission reward and go back to save you.

Jocelyn Reed’s POV “Beep—” The sharp alert from the machine rang out inside the VIP private room, sounding especially piercing to my ears. “Heart rate sixty-five. Not even a ripple, Theodore!” The rich heirs around him stared at the polygraph and burst into undisguised laughter. I looked toward Theodore Shaw, who was sitting in the center of the sofa. He tugged at his tie, his deep-set brows and eyes carrying a careless arrogance. Polygraph sensor pads were still stuck to his skin, and my portrait filled the large display screen. Someone who apparently had no fear of death kept stirring things up. “Then switch to another photo and try again?” The image on the big screen flashed. My photo disappeared, replaced by a picture of a girl with a bright, radiant smile. Lily Vance. Theodore’s first love. The woman who had gone abroad for further studies for a full three years. She was also the one who got away, the woman he had always kept at the very tip of his heart. “Beep, beep, beep, beep!” The alarm instantly became rapid. The heart-rate number on the screen soared all the way from 65 to 120. The red peaks jumped violently, exposing the test subject’s uncontrollable heartbeat at that moment. The private room fell eerily silent for one second. Then even harsher whistles erupted. “Holy hell, this polygraph doesn’t lie! Theodore, your heart’s screaming what you refuse to say out loud.” “I told you, didn’t I? Jocelyn Reed has been running herself ragged at Theodore’s side as his fiancee and free nanny for four years, and in the end, she still can’t compare to a single photo of Lily Vance!” Theodore did not get angry. Instead, he let out a low laugh. He casually tore the patches off his body and tossed them onto the coffee table, then turned to look at me, who had been standing quietly in the shadows the whole time. I was still holding a cup of freshly poured warm water, ready to soothe Theodore’s throat after he finished drinking. Not a flicker crossed my face, not even a flutter of my lashes—as if the woman being mocked in front of everyone was a stranger, not me. I knew Theodore hated this dead-water look of mine the most. He leaned back against the leather sofa, legs crossed, his gaze like he was assessing a useful object. “Did you hear that? The machine is honest.” In the most casual tone, he said the cruelest words. “Jocelyn Reed, you really have been obedient these past four years, and I’m used to having you around to handle everything. But habit is not a heartbeat.” “But don’t worry. Our wedding is next month. Since I promised to marry you, I’ll still give you the position of Mrs. Shaw. After all, I need a sensible wife.” As soon as he said that, the way everyone around us looked at me filled with ridicule and contempt. I had been publicly labeled as nothing more than an emotionless ornament. A shameless, pathetic woman who clung to him for the status of his wife. If it were any other woman, she would have slammed the door and left by now. But I did not. I walked forward and gently set the cup of warm water, exactly forty degrees, beside Theodore’s hand. My voice was mild. “Your stomach isn’t good. Drink less iced wine.” The people in the room looked at one another. Then even louder laughter burst out. “Holy shit, she really is the ultimate ninja turtle.” “Theodore, you trained her so well. She won’t hit back or talk back no matter what!” Theodore seemed very satisfied with my reaction. He picked up the cup and took a sip. Just as he was about to speak, the phone on the table suddenly vibrated. The screen flashed: Lily Vance. Theodore’s expression changed instantly. He shot to his feet. Because he moved too abruptly, he knocked over the cup of water I had just placed on the table. Warm water splashed all over me, but Theodore did not even glance at me. He answered the call and strode outside. “Lily? You returned to the country? Wait for me at the airport. I’m coming right now!” The door to the private room slammed shut with a bang. To pick up Lily, Theodore left me behind in the private room without a second thought. “The real woman he loved is back. Looks like the good days are over for certain stand-ins.” The crowd mocked me mercilessly as they left. I pulled out a tissue and unhurriedly wiped the water stains from my clothes. I did not feel even the slightest bit sad. I merely lifted my head quietly and looked at the translucent countdown panel in midair, visible only to me. [System Alert: 30 days until the wedding mission checkpoint.] “Thirty days.” I tugged coldly at the corner of my mouth and repeated silently in my heart, “If I endure 30 more days, I can take the mission reward and go back to save my Ethan Cole.”

Jocelyn Reed’s POV On the first day after Lily Vance returned to the country, Theodore summoned me with a phone call to a deep-diving club downtown. The moment I pushed open the door to the private deep-diving area, the damp air rushing toward me made my breathing abruptly seize. Ahead was an extreme deep-diving pool fifteen meters deep. My body trembled slightly beyond my control. I had severe underwater claustrophobia. Because in my world, the man I loved most, Ethan Cole, had lifted me onto the shore during a flood. He himself had been swept into a whirlpool, and to this day he still lay in the ICU in a vegetative state. “How long are you going to stand there?” Theodore’s impatient voice cut through my instinctive terror. I looked up and saw Theodore sitting on a lounge chair by the pool, his arm around the graceful Lily Vance. The group of rich heirs who had laughed at me in the private room last night were all gathered nearby, ready to watch the show. Lily nestled against Theodore’s chest, eyes glistening with feigned tears. She gestured toward the pitch-black pool bottom in a whiny, sugary tone. “The custom diamond earrings you gifted me two years ago slipped out of my hand down there. They’re your very first present to me—I can’t bear to lose them.” The water pressure at the bottom of the deep-diving pool was enormous. Normally, anyone going down had to wear professional scuba gear. But Theodore did not call a lifeguard. Instead, he looked straight at me. “Jocelyn Reed, aren’t you always saying that to marry me, you’d be willing to do anything?” Theodore pointed to the bottom of the pool, fifteen meters down. “Lily’s earrings fell in. Go down without a wetsuit and without an oxygen tank, and retrieve them.” The people around us sucked in a breath. “Holy shit, Theodore is going this far? Diving fifteen meters bare-handed? If she hasn’t had professional training, her lungs could burst, right?” “This isn’t about finding something. This is Theodore laying down the rules for Lily!” I bit hard on my paling lower lip, my nails nearly digging into my palms. I looked at Theodore’s arrogant face, my voice a little hoarse. “I don’t know how to dive.” “You don’t know how to dive?” Lily gave a soft laugh from the side. “If Ms. Reed doesn’t want to retrieve them, then forget it. After all, they’re only a pair of earrings worth a few million. It’s just a shame… Theodore told me yesterday that next month’s wedding is going to be held on an island. If Ms. Reed is even afraid of this little bit of water, I’m afraid the wedding can’t happen, can it?” She was using the wedding to threaten me. That was my greatest weakness. Without the wedding, my mission would fail completely, and Ethan Cole would never wake up. Theodore looked at my rigid body, and a trace of mockery flashed through his eyes. “Exactly. If you can’t retrieve them, next month’s wedding will be postponed indefinitely. In any case, Theodore Shaw’s wife cannot be a useless woman who isn’t even willing to do this tiny thing for me.” In Theodore’s eyes, I loved him to the bone. As long as he said the word, I would even throw away my life, let alone get into some water. I looked at the blood-red countdown on the panel and closed my eyes. “Fine. I’ll retrieve them.” I did not even take off my coat. I went in wearing my white shirt and suit pants. Under the shocked, eager-to-watch stares of the crowd, I jumped without hesitation into the fifteen-meter-deep pool. “Splash!” The icy water instantly swallowed me over my head. The violent sensation of weightlessness crushed my chest like madness. I almost convulsed underwater. My ears screamed with sharp pain from the water pressure. The air in my lungs was squeezed out bit by bit, and a strong taste of blood rose in my throat. I could not die. I could not fail. Ethan Cole was still waiting for me. Forcing myself to hold on to my last breath, I found the glittering earring at the bottom of the pool. “Splash!” I broke through the surface and grabbed the handrail at the edge, climbing onto shore. I was in a miserable state. My soaked clothes clung tightly to my body. I shook all over from the cold and coughed violently. The surroundings fell silent for a moment. Even that group of rich heirs was frightened by my ruthless, life-risking resolve. With a trembling hand, I held the earring out to Theodore. Word by word, I asked, “The wedding will go on as planned, right?” Theodore looked at my bloodless face, and his expression shifted. But he quickly suppressed that strange feeling. He took the earring, turned around, and gently put it on Lily. “Of course. After all, you’re so obedient.” Theodore did not even hand me a towel. He only cast a cold glance at the water dripping beneath my feet, his brows tightly furrowed, his tone full of disgust. “You made the floor filthy. Go dry your clothes yourself.” After saying that, he wrapped an arm around Lily and, surrounded by the crowd, left the deep-diving area without looking back. In the empty venue, a cold wind blew through. I collapsed onto the floor tiles, clutching my arms tightly, my head filling with wave after wave of dizziness so intense it felt like it would split open. [System Alert: Wedding progress remains unaffected. Countdown: 28 days.] Listening to the voice in my mind, I pulled a weak smile at the corner of my mouth. Then my vision went completely black, and I lost consciousness.

Jocelyn Reed’s POV When I woke again, I was already lying in a hospital. The mild pulmonary edema from deep diving and the high fever caused by near-drowning had drained almost all my strength. I struggled to open my eyes, only to discover, unexpectedly, that the man sitting beside the bed and reading documents was Theodore. Hearing the movement, Theodore closed the tablet in his hands. His deep, cold eyes locked onto me. The pressure in the hospital room was extremely low, as if the air itself had congealed. Theodore did not ask how I was feeling. He simply spoke in a gloomy voice. “Who is Ethan Cole?” My body stiffened violently, and my heart missed a beat. The background information the system had forged for me in this world was flawless. Ethan Cole’s name should never have appeared. “Your fever reached thirty-nine point five degrees Celsius. You were unconscious for a full day and night.” Theodore stood up and approached me, carrying an intense sense of pressure. “During that entire day and night, you didn’t say anything except cry and keep calling Ethan Cole’s name, telling him not to leave.” Theodore’s long fingers suddenly gripped my chin, forcing me to lift my head and meet his gaze. “Jocelyn Reed, Theodore Shaw’s fiancee, crying her heart out in her dreams for another man. Don’t you plan to explain?” There was no pity in his eyes for his seriously ill fiancee. Instead, there was a jealousy he himself had not even noticed. I knew what he was thinking. He believed that for the past four years, my entire heart and world had been filled with him. How could I, how dare I, think of another man’s name when I was at my weakest? Inside, my heart was in turmoil. But on the surface, my eyes remained completely calm. “He’s no one important.” My voice was hoarse as I lied without a ripple. “When I was in college, I used to take private translation jobs in my spare time. I translated a foreign tragedy novel once. The supporting male character was named Ethan Cole. He drowned in a flood saving the female lead. I was only dreaming.” “A dead supporting character in a novel?” Theodore narrowed his eyes dangerously, clearly only half believing this answer. “Yes.” I looked at him coldly, and there was even a self-mocking curve at the corner of my mouth. “Or did Mr. Shaw think that a woman like me, who will do anything to climb into the Shaw family, could still have some unforgettable one who got away in her heart?” That sentence greatly pleased Theodore. The hand gripping my chin let go. Theodore wiped his hand with a disinfectant wet wipe in disgust. “Whether that Ethan Cole is someone from a novel or something else, since you want to be Mrs. Shaw, there can only be one person in your mind. Me.” “I don’t allow my things to be tainted with the slightest trace of anyone else.” Just then, the door to the hospital room was pushed open, and Lily Vance walked in. She glanced at me lying weakly in the hospital bed. A trace of unconcealed smugness flashed through her eyes. Then she sweetly hooked her arm through Theodore’s. “Theodore, why are you still here? Didn’t you promise to go with me to choose the bridesmaid dress for the wedding?” Lily pouted and acted spoiled. “Since Ms. Reed is awake, she probably won’t die. Let’s go.” I had been hospitalized with a high fever because of him, yet he was going to accompany his first love to pick out a bridesmaid dress. “Fine. Let’s go.” Theodore did not hesitate in the slightest and clasped Lily’s hand in return. When he reached the doorway, his footsteps paused. Without turning back, he left me with one cold, hard sentence. “Lily is holding a welcome-home banquet next week. As my fiancee, you’ll be in charge of organizing it.” The door closed. I looked at the empty hospital room and listened to the sound pulsing from the system panel. [Countdown: 27 days.] I slowly closed my eyes. At last, one warm tear slid from the corner of my eye. It was the first tear I had shed in the four years since I came to this world. “Ethan Cole…” I silently called to him in my heart. “Wait for me another twenty-seven days. After twenty-seven days, I will bring you home.”

Jocelyn Reed’s POV As soon as my high fever subsided, I forced myself to return to Theodore’s villa and began preparing Lily’s welcome-home banquet. Three days later, inside the villa’s private fitting room, Lily held a measuring tape and put on an act as she measured around my body. “I’m tired of all those haute couture gowns from top luxury brands. This time, I want to personally design a suit for Theodore, and then make myself a matching gown.” Lily smiled sweetly toward Theodore, who was sitting on the sofa not far away and handling documents. “Theodore, I just haven’t been able to find a draping model with the right measurements. Ms. Reed’s figure is rather similar to mine. Why not let her be my human fitting mannequin for a few days?” Theodore did not even lift his head. His fingers flew across the laptop keyboard, his tone casual. “Do whatever makes you happy. As long as she doesn’t make you angry.” I was told to take off my coat and stand ramrod straight on the round platform in the center of the fitting room wearing only a thin, fitted silk blouse. Lily took a box of straight pins and began draping fabric on me. “Hold perfectly still, Ms. Reed. Fabric draping demands flawless precision. The tiniest shift will ruin every fold I’ve laid out.” A malicious light glittered in Lily’s eyes. She drove the dress pin straight through the fabric and my thin silk top, sinking the sharp metal deep into my left shoulder. “Hiss—” The pain made me suck in a sharp breath, and my body instinctively shrank back. “Oh my, why is Ms. Reed so delicate?” Lily cried out in surprise. Not only did she fail to pull the pin out, she pressed it in even deeper. “I told you not to move. Look, the fabric is crooked now!” For the next full three hours, Lily deliberately stabbed straight pins into my shoulder, my waist, and my arm again and again. My legs went numb from standing. Cold sweat poured from my entire body. On my white silk blouse, faint dots of crimson blood had already seeped through, like red plum blossoms blooming one after another. I bit through my lip and forced myself not to move. Because the bottom line of the system mission was this: before the wedding, I absolutely could not anger Theodore and cause the wedding to be canceled. I looked coldly at Theodore on the sofa ahead of me. He could clearly see the bloodstains on my blouse. He could clearly hear the breaths I was swallowing back in pain. But he merely turned a page of his document and spoke flatly. “Bear with it. Lily has an artist’s temper. Once this gown is finished, for your wedding next month, I’ll order you that wedding dress brand you like the most.” Finally, Lily seemed to grow tired of playing and clapped her hands. “That’s enough for today.” I stepped down from the platform, ignored the bloody punctures on my body, and began expressionlessly cleaning up the scraps of fabric on the floor. Lily Vance looked at my lifeless expression and suddenly seemed to lose interest. Then her eyes shifted, and another idea came to her. “Theodore, I remember there’s a private kitchen in the southern suburbs whose truffle congee is amazing. I want that.” The southern suburbs were a full forty kilometers from the hillside villa. A round trip would take at least two hours. If it snowed heavily tonight, the roads would be extremely dangerous. Theodore frowned. He looked at me, and I knew he thought it was going too far too. But his need for control still won out. “Jocelyn Reed,” Theodore ordered. “Go buy it. Lily wants it hot.” I stopped what I was doing. The straight pins still stuck in my shoulder throbbed faintly. I knew Lily was deliberately making things difficult for me, but I only nodded calmly. “Okay.” I picked up the car keys and did not even change out of the bloodstained shirt before walking straight out of the villa. Watching me leave, Lily leaned smugly into Theodore’s arms. “Theodore, look at her. She really is so obedient. If you told her to go eat snow, she wouldn’t even hesitate, would she?” I looked back once. Theodore was not looking at me. He was staring at the darkening sky outside the door, his brows tightly furrowed, as if he felt irritated. But in the end, he only gave a cold laugh. “She went to such lengths to become Mrs. Shaw. Of course she has to pay the price. She’ll get used to it.” Two hours later, the wind howled, and the heavy snow arrived right on schedule. I was driving across an empty suburban overpass when I heard a dull, abnormal sound from the engine. The car broke down completely, stopping on a stretch of road with nothing in front of me and nothing behind me. And at that moment, my phone had only 2% battery left.

Jocelyn Reed’s POV The snowstorm outside the car window grew stronger and stronger, the goose-feather flakes nearly blotting out my vision. Temperatures plummeted to ten below zero Fahrenheit. I sat in the broken-down car, every breath I exhaled turning into white mist. The wounds left by the straight pins had already scabbed over, but under the freezing wind pouring in, they turned purple from the cold. In the upper-right corner of my phone screen, the battery flashed a glaring red 1% warning. I took a deep breath and called Theodore. “Beep… beep…” The phone rang for a long time before it was answered. What came from the other end was not Theodore’s voice, but Lily’s sweet, flirtatious laugh and the elegant sound of violins in a French restaurant. “Ms. Reed? Did you get the salad? I’m really sorry. I suddenly felt that place’s salad was too bland, so I pestered Theodore into taking me out for French cuisine.” Lily’s voice carried unconcealed triumph. Then, faintly, Theodore’s low voice came through the phone. “Who is it? Eat the foie gras first. It’ll taste fishy once it gets cold.” My fingers tightened around the phone until my knuckles turned white. I had gone to the southern suburbs on this blizzard night to buy salad. And they were already sitting in a warm, luxurious restaurant, enjoying French cuisine. “Where’s Theodore?” My voice was strangely calm, without a trace of resentment. “My car broke down on the South Ring Elevated Road. There’s a blizzard outside, and the temperature is too low. I need help.” The other end went quiet for one second. Then Theodore took the phone. His tone was full of obvious impatience. “Jocelyn Reed, if your car broke down, call a tow truck yourself. I’m still having dinner with Lily. I don’t have time to deal with you.” “I can’t get through to the towing company. The snow is too heavy. They may not be able to come out.” I stated the facts calmly. “My phone has almost no battery left. Theodore, can you come pick me up? Or send your driver.” Theodore gave a cold laugh on the other end. “Jocelyn Reed, once is enough for a self-inflicted pity act. The South Ring Elevated Road is thirty kilometers from the restaurant. You want me to abandon Lily and run over there for the sake of your car?” “Figure out a way to get yourself back. If you really think it’s cold, get out and walk back.” “Beep—beep—beep—” The call was hung up without mercy. The next second, my phone screen went completely black. The temperature inside the car had already dropped until it was almost no different from outside. If I kept sitting in the car, I would definitely freeze to death tonight. System Alert: Countdown: 24 days. Vital signs are declining. Host, please take self-rescue measures. I silently glanced at the black phone screen. Then I made up my mind, pushed open the car door, and stepped onto the elevated road against the raging snowstorm. The South Ring Elevated Road was more than thirty kilometers long. There were no streetlights and nowhere to take shelter from the wind. All I had on was that thin shirt and a light trench coat that could not keep out the cold at all. I took my first shaky step onto the ice-slick pavement, wind slicing across my cheeks like razor blades. My heels slipped on the ice. I fell countless times, my knees bruised purple, my hands scraped open by the rough ice and snow. Blood mixed with icy water and froze on my fingertips. I did not know how long I walked. The blisters on the soles of my feet burst and were rubbed raw, then burst again. Every step felt like I was treading on knife points. But even that could not compare to the despairing pain I had felt when Ethan Cole’s heart stopped in the emergency room. For Ethan, I could endure anything. Four full hours. When I limped to the gate of the hillside villa, the sky had already begun to lighten. The villa was brightly lit. I pushed the door open and walked into the living room with the cold and the scent of blood clinging to me. Theodore was sitting on the sofa, holding a cup of hot coffee. When he heard the movement, he looked up at me, and his entire body suddenly froze. He looked at the woman before him, soaked through from head to toe, leaving bloody footprints on the carpet with every step, and his brows drew tightly together. A flash of shock crossed his eyes. I knew what he was shocked by. He thought I had said the car broke down to act spoiled. He thought I had said my phone was out of battery as an excuse. He thought I had taken a taxi back long ago, that I had merely found somewhere to hide outside so he would feel sorry for me. He had never imagined that I would really walk for four hours through a blizzard. “Are you insane?” Theodore abruptly stood up, a trace of panic in his voice that even he did not notice. “Jocelyn Reed, did you really walk back the whole way? Didn’t you know to find a convenience store and ask for help?!” I stood where I was and did not take a single step closer to him. My purple, frozen lips curved slightly. My eyes were empty and calm as I looked at him. “Theodore, you forgot. There are no convenience stores on the South Ring Elevated Road.” “You told me to figure out a way to get myself back. I got myself back.” My voice was very soft, yet it struck Theodore’s heart like a heavy hammer. “As long as the wedding happens as scheduled, it doesn’t matter even if I die on the road.” Theodore’s pupils suddenly contracted. He parted his lips, just about to say something. But a cry of surprise came from the stairs. “Oh my god! Theodore!”

Jocelyn Reed’s POV Lily ran down the second-floor stairs wrapped in Theodore’s robe. When she saw the state I was in, shock flashed through her eyes, but it was quickly replaced by thick jealousy and malice. I knew what she was thinking. She would never allow Theodore to feel even the slightest guilt toward me. “Ms. Reed, what happened to you? Didn’t Theodore tell you to take a taxi yourself? You didn’t have to walk back, did you?” Lily rushed down the stairs hypocritically and reached out to pull my arm. “Hurry and take a hot shower. You’re getting the carpet all dirty…” The instant Lily’s hand touched me, my body instinctively flinched from weakness, and I took half a step back. That step back did not touch Lily at all. But Lily seized the moment and let out a shrill scream. “Ah—!” Her whole body flew like a kite with its string cut, tumbling straight down the last few steps. Her forehead slammed hard into the marble floor, and crimson blood instantly seeped out. “Lily!” All of Theodore’s panic and that tiny bit of guilt that had just begun to form vanished in an instant. He rushed over like a madman and pulled Lily into his arms. “Lily, how are you?” Lily leaned weakly in Theodore’s arms, blood running down from her forehead, making her look all the more pitiful. Her eyes reddened as she pointed at me, her voice trembling. “Theodore… I only wanted to take her to shower. Why did she push me? It hurts so much…” I stood quietly where I was, watching her clumsy performance. I did not even have the desire to explain, because I knew Theodore’s eyes were blind, and his heart was biased. Sure enough. After Theodore settled Lily down, he suddenly stood up, strode to me in a few steps, and slammed me hard against the wall. A sense of suffocation swept over me instantly. I was already weak to the extreme. Now, with Theodore gripping me like he was holding a chick, I did not even have the strength to resist. “Jocelyn Reed! How did you grow such a vicious heart?” Theodore’s eyes were bloodshot, his handsome face turning savage with rage. He stared at me through gritted teeth. “When your self-inflicted pity act doesn’t work, you start trying to kill people, is that it? What did Lily ever do to you that you would hurt her like this?!” “I didn’t.” I forced the three words out from between my teeth, my voice hoarse beyond recognition. “You’re still arguing!” Theodore’s grip suddenly tightened. “I saw you push her with my own eyes! That scheming mind of yours, willing to do anything to climb up, is absolutely disgusting!” He suddenly released his hand. I slid to the floor like a piece of torn cloth, coughing violently and gulping down the freezing air. A shocking ring of blue-purple bruises immediately appeared around my neck. Theodore looked down at me from above, his gaze as cold as ice. “Jocelyn Reed, do you think using such low, dirty methods will let you sit securely in the position of Mrs. Shaw?” “Next month’s wedding is postponed indefinitely! Get out of my house. Without my permission, don’t even dream of stepping through the doors of Shaw Group again in this lifetime!” System Warning: A major change has occurred at the wedding mission checkpoint! If the wedding is completely canceled, the mission will be directly judged a failure! Countdown: 23 days. The piercing alarm echoed wildly in my mind. I sat collapsed on the icy floor, watching Theodore carry Lily away in long strides. Postponed indefinitely. That sentence was the same as sentencing Ethan Cole to death. My hands clenched the edge of the carpet so hard that my nails even snapped off at the roots, and blood seeped into the carpet. “No.” My eyes turned ruthless. “The wedding must happen as scheduled!”

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The iPad screen lit up on the study desk. “Ethan, the copyright transfer and design attribution for the ‘Galaxy’ collection are fully processed. At tomorrow’s launch event, Chloe will be officially introduced as the Chief Designer of the Miller Group.” I stared at the screen, my mind going completely blank. Chloe was Ethan’s ultimate muse, the one that got away. The sound of the shower in the bathroom stopped. Ethan walked out, wrapping his arms around my waist from behind. He rested his chin on my shoulder, his voice thick with post-shower warmth. “Babe, what are you just standing here in the dark?” I lowered my eyes, my fingers gripping the spoon so hard my knuckles turned white. “Nothing. Just a bit of a stomachache.” He kissed the crown of my head gently. “Once the launch is over tomorrow, I’m taking you to Tahiti for a vacation.” I said nothing. I only knew that in three days, at my birthday party, he planned to broadcast a humiliating video of me begging him on my knees to the entire high society of New York. He wanted to destroy me completely. So I had already deleted every single backup on his phone, emptied his cloud trash, and blocked all his contacts. Ethan, your little hunting game ends tonight.

Aria POV I was once known as the prodigy of the jewelry design world. At nineteen, I won the International Gold Award in Paris. My future should have been limitless. But the most foolish thing I ever did was give up my fellowship in Paris for Ethan Miller. I chose to stay hidden by his side for three whole years. For three years, I lived like a shadow in this luxury villa under his name, working as his hidden designer for his family business, the Miller Group. The only reason Miller Jewelry rose so fast in the market, even overshadowing my brother Julian’s firm, the Sterling Vaughan Enterprises, was because of my designs. Today was our third anniversary. The kitchen was filled with a rich aroma. I had spent hours making Ethan’s favorite wild mushroom cream soup. Holding the delicate bowl, I walked quietly up to the second-floor study. Ethan had just returned and was taking a shower. The muffled sound of running water leaked through the frosted glass door. On the desk, Ethan’s iPad kept buzzing. The notifications were relentless. I didn’t mean to spy, but as I set the bowl down, the preview on the lock screen caught my eye. It felt like a knife twisting straight into my chest. The message was from Ethan’s best friend, Zachary. “Ethan, the paperwork for the ‘Galaxy’ collection is done. Chloe is going to present it tomorrow at the press conference as Miller’s new Chief Designer. The press releases are ready. She’s going to be a star overnight.” “If Julian Vaughan finds out his precious, sheltered little sister has been your free labor for three years, and that her masterpiece is going to his rival’s fiancée, he’ll probably have a stroke on the spot!” “Brilliant move, man. You’ve been fighting her brother for years, and now Julian is ruined by his own sister. Aria really helped you steal some major clients from Vaughan Enterprises these past three years.” I stood frozen by the desk. It felt like all the blood had been drained from my body. The “Galaxy” collection was the result of countless sleepless nights. I had revised the blueprints hundreds of times, even ending up in the ER with stomach bleeding from pure exhaustion. It was supposed to be my third-anniversary gift to Ethan. The concept was “Loving you across the galaxy.” Now, it was going to Chloe. His actual fiancée. I stared at the screen until Ethan’s reply popped up. It was only one cold sentence. “She’s just a pawn to destroy Julian Vaughan. Keep an eye on her until the launch tomorrow. Don’t let her suspect anything.” My brain buzzed. Total silence. Every sweet word, every promise over the last three years. It was all a beautifully crafted lie. The car accident where he “saved” me in the pouring rain, his gentle care, his deep confessions… all of it was just a sick, twisted plot to get revenge on my brother. The shower water suddenly stopped. I snapped back to reality, forced myself to turn around, and faced away from the desk. I dug my nails into my palms, using the physical pain to keep myself from screaming. The door opened, and Ethan walked out in a black silk robe. Water droplets slid down his chiseled chest. His dark eyes, always filled with apparent warmth, locked onto me. “Babe, why are you standing there like a statue?” He walked up, naturally wrapping his arms around my waist, burying his face in my neck. He took a deep breath of my chamomile perfume. “The soup smells amazing. Thank you, babe.” His voice was low, raspy, and incredibly seductive. Just like always. But my body shivered uncontrollably. A wave of intense nausea hit me. Just minutes ago, I was looking forward to our anniversary. Now, feeling his touch made me feel like I was holding a corpse. “What’s wrong? Are you cold? Why are you shaking?” Ethan noticed my reaction. He turned me around, placing his warm hand on my forehead, his eyes full of worry. He was such a good actor. Looking at his handsome, concerned face, I felt my heart shatter into a million jagged pieces. Ethan, how could you act so well? You made me look like the ultimate fool, willingly handing you the dagger to stab my own brother. “I’m fine.” I lowered my gaze, hiding the tears. “Just a bit tired from drawing lately. My stomach is acting up.” Ethan let out a soft laugh and kissed my forehead. “Once the launch is over tomorrow and ‘Galaxy’ hits the market, I’ll give you a long break. I’ll take you to Tahiti. You’ve always wanted to go, right?” I forced a pale smile but said nothing.

Aria POV The next day, at the Manhattan International Convention Center. The launch event for the Miller Group was spectacular. Hundreds of media cameras were lined up, and almost every prominent figure in New York’s high society was in attendance. It wasn’t just a jewelry launch; it was Ethan’s declaration of dominance over the market. I wore an oversized black trench coat and a baseball cap, blending into the dark corner at the back of the hall. On stage, the man who held my heart for three years stood holding a microphone. Ethan looked incredibly sharp in his custom black tuxedo. His presence was commanding, effortless. He smiled, elegantly holding the hand of the woman next to him, and announced to the flashing cameras: “Today, I want to introduce the brilliant mind behind the ‘Galaxy’ collection, our future Chief Designer, and my fiancée, Miss Chloe Sinclair.” The crowd erupted into thunderous applause. Chloe wore a breathtaking, custom-made star-patterned gown. Around her neck was the centerpiece necklace of my “Galaxy” collection. She smiled with pure vanity, leaning close to Ethan. The giant screens began to display the design drafts. Every line I drew, every diamond cut calculation, even the tiny shorthand notes I made to myself. Everything was on display. The host spoke enthusiastically: “Miss Sinclair spent years studying in Paris, and this collection perfectly bridges modern European aesthetics with…” I watched quietly. I watched another woman steal my soul’s work, and the man I loved drive a stake through my heart. I didn’t cry. I didn’t run on stage to make a scene. When the pain goes deep enough, tears feel useless. I just felt cold. A deep, bone-chilling cold that numbed my entire existence. I turned around and walked toward the backstage exit. I needed to breathe. As I passed the VIP green room, the door was slightly ajar. I heard laughing inside. Zachary’s voice was unmistakable. “Ethan, you’re ruthless. Giving Aria’s work to Chloe just like that? Aren’t you afraid she’ll find out and throw a fit? She spent six months on those drafts.” “So what?” Ethan’s lazy voice drifted out, followed by the metallic click of a lighter. He sounded completely indifferent. “She loves me so much she’d die for me. Even if she finds out, a few sweet words and a limited-edition Birkin bag will keep her quiet. What else does she have besides me?” “True. Julian Vaughan really has a stupid sister. She cut off her family for you. When are you dumping her anyway? The Sinclairs are pushing for the wedding date.” “No rush,” Ethan chuckled, blowing out a stream of smoke. “Next week is her birthday. I’ve prepared a ‘grand gift’ for her. I’m going to let all of New York see the proud Vaughan heiress begging on her knees like a dog, pleading with me not to leave her. I’m going to break Julian Vaughan’s back once and for all.” Outside the door, I bit my lip so hard that the metallic taste of blood filled my mouth. I didn’t push the door open. I didn’t make a sound. I stood straight, turned, and walked out of the convention center. The sky was pitch black, and a sudden storm began to pour. Cold rain drenched me instantly, but it was nothing compared to the ice in my heart. I pulled out my phone and dialed a number I hadn’t called in three years. It rang once and was picked up instantly. “Aria?” My brother Julian’s voice trembled with disbelief, almost afraid that if he spoke too loud, I would hang up. Hearing his voice, my fake strength shattered. Tears streamed down my face, mixing with the rain. “Julian…” I sobbed, my voice breaking. “I want to come home.” The line went silent for two seconds. Then, Julian’s voice came back, steady, powerful, and thick with protective rage. “I’m sending the private jet to JFK right now. Aria, Boston is always your home. I’ve built you the best design lab in New England, and I’ve already set you up with a fiancé who will actually cherish you. Come home, baby sister. Stop hurting.” I closed my eyes, letting the rain wash over my face. “Okay. I’m coming home.”

Aria POV Back at the villa that had been my prison for three years, I took a hot shower to wash away the cold. I put on some clean clothes and sat at the vanity, looking at my pale face and empty eyes. I took out a piece of paper and calmly made a checklist. Resign. Pack. Delete everything related to Ethan. Leave New York. I grabbed some heavy-duty black trash bags from the closet and started throwing things away. The matching couple cups? Trashed. The cashmere scarf I hand-knitted for him that he never wore? Trashed. The expensive but thoughtless jewelry he had his assistant buy to pacify me? All of it went straight into the trash bags. I worked like a machine. No tears, no hesitation. Just disgust. By evening, Ethan came home. He smelled of whiskey, clearly having celebrated at the afterparty. He loosened his tie and walked into the living room. When he saw the massive trash bags piled by the door, his brows furrowed. He walked up behind me and hugged me out of habit. “Babe, what is all this? Why are you throwing things out? Don’t like them anymore?” I didn’t pull away. I let him hold me, my voice as flat as dead water. “I’m bored of them. They take up too much space. I want new things.” Ethan probably thought I was throwing a tantrum about the launch. After all, the news was everywhere. He chuckled, reached into his suit, and pulled out an unlimited black card, slipping it into my hand. His voice was gentle but carried the arrogance of a master throwing a bone to a dog. “I know today was hard on you, babe. But Chloe just got back, and the Miller Group needs the Sinclair family’s backing. She needed a launchpad. You’re my girl, you don’t need those petty titles. You’ll still run the design team behind the scenes. Be good, okay? Take the card and buy whatever bags or diamonds you want.” I looked down at the cold piece of plastic. It was hilarious. He stole my work, claimed my designs as his, and crushed my pride. And he thought a credit card could fix it. What was I to him? Just a well-kept pet. “Okay,” I said quietly, tossing the card onto the side table. Ethan was pleased with my obedience. He kissed my hair. “Next week is your birthday. I’m hosting a huge party for you at ‘Midnight’. I’ve invited the biggest names in New York. I have a huge surprise for you.” I kept my eyes down to hide the sheer hatred in them. A surprise? More like a public execution to humiliate me and my brother. The next day, Ethan went to the office. But the villa welcomed an uninvited guest, Chloe. Chloe walked in wearing six-inch Louboutins, strutting like she owned the place. She looked at me sitting on the couch with pure disgust. “Aria, why are you still here? Didn’t you watch the news? Ethan is marrying me. A side-chick like you should pack up and get lost.” I turned a page of my book, not even looking up. “Congratulations. The door is behind you. I won’t see you out.” My calm attitude drove her crazy. “What are you acting high and mighty for?” Chloe rushed over, snatching the book from my hands and slamming it to the floor. “You think Ethan loves you? You’re just a tool to hurt your brother! To him, you’re cheaper than a street girl! And guess what? Your precious designs have my name on them now. How does that feel?” “Are you done?” I finally looked up, staring at her with pity. “If you’re done, get out. You’re getting grease on my floor.” Chloe’s face twisted in rage. Her eyes locked onto a glass display case nearby. Inside was a vintage violin. It was my eighteenth birthday gift from Julian, bought at a prestigious auction in London. It was my most prized possession. A wicked smirk played on Chloe’s lips. She marched over and shoved the display case with all her might. Crash! The thick glass shattered across the floor. The priceless violin slammed onto the hardwood, its strings snapping with a screeching sound. The wooden body split wide open, ruined forever. I stood up, my face instantly pale, blood rushing to my head.

Aria POV “Oh my, I’m so sorry. I lost my balance. My hand slipped.” Chloe covered her mouth, her apology dripping with fake sincerity and malicious joy. Looking at the broken violin, my fists clenched so hard my nails drew blood. That was the last piece of my family I had left in this cold house. Just then, the front door swung open, and Ethan stormed in. Seeing the shattered glass and the broken violin, his face darkened instantly. Chloe reacted in a split second. She instantly squeezed out tears, running to Ethan and grabbing his arm. “Ethan! Thank God you’re home. I just came to visit Aria and apologize about the design credit. But she has such a temper! She started screaming at me, told me to get out, and then she went crazy and smashed her own violin…” Ethan looked at the violin on the floor. He knew how much that instrument meant to me. He also knew exactly who Chloe was, and he knew damn well I would never destroy my brother’s gift. But he just stepped in front of Chloe, shielding her, and looked at me with cold disapproval. “Aria, enough,” Ethan’s voice was stern, full of authority. “Chloe came to see you, and you throw a tantrum? Even if you’re upset about yesterday, you don’t take it out on property, and you definitely don’t attack my guests.” I stood there, looking at the man I had loved for three years across the wreckage. No screaming. No tears. No explanations. Just a deep, exhausting sadness. “Ethan, that was the violin my brother gave me.” My voice was quiet, dead. “It’s just a violin!” Ethan snapped, his eyes cold. “I’ll buy you a better one from Europe tomorrow! Ten of them if you want! But your attitude right now is unacceptable. Apologize to Chloe. Now.” He wanted to break me. He wanted to show me that in his world, he was king, and I had to submit, no matter how badly I was hurt. I looked at him, and for the first time, I smiled. It was a cold, lifeless smile, like a rose freezing in the snow. “Okay. I’m sorry.” I didn’t fight back. I didn’t argue. I turned to Chloe, who was hiding behind him with a smug grin, and said flatly, “I apologize, Miss Sinclair. My bad. I shouldn’t have startled you.” Ethan froze. He expected me to cry, to beg him to believe me, to scream at Chloe. But my instant submission, my complete lack of emotion, rattled him. “Alright, Chloe, go home first,” Ethan said irritably, pulling his arm out of her grip and sending her away. The living room fell silent. Ethan stepped over the broken glass and reached out to hold me. “Babe, I…” I took a step back, dodging his touch. “I’m tired. I’m going to sleep.” I didn’t look at him as I walked upstairs, leaving him alone in the mess.

Aria POV For the next few days, I was terrifyingly quiet. I never mentioned the violin again, and I didn’t ask about Chloe. I ate on time, slept on time, as if nothing had happened. Until the third morning, when the HR department of the Miller Group received my formal resignation letter. When Ethan found out, he went ballistic. He canceled a major board meeting and drove back to the villa like a maniac. Bang! He kicked my bedroom door open. He stormed in, grabbed my wrist as I was organizing my desk, and slammed me against the wall. “Aria, what the hell are you doing? Resigning? Who gave you permission!” His eyes were bloodshot, veins popping on his forehead. I was forced to look up, my back aching against the hard wall. But my eyes remained calm. “I’m tired of designing. Since ‘Galaxy’ belongs to Chloe now, Miller Group doesn’t need me anymore.” “If you’re tired, stay home! I can afford to feed you! What is this nonsense about resigning?” Ethan’s grip on my jaw tightened, nearly crushing my bone. “Is this because of the violin? Or Chloe? I told you I’d make it up to you! What more do you want? Stop trying to manipulate me with this!” I didn’t struggle. I just looked at him. “I don’t want anything, Ethan. I’m just done.” The calmer I was, the angrier he became. He was used to my dependence, my warmth. He couldn’t stand this cold, detached version of me. “You’re not going anywhere!” Ethan growled, slamming his lips onto mine. It wasn’t a kiss of love. It was a violent, possessive bite. He didn’t let go until the taste of blood filled our mouths. “Listen to me, Aria. You are mine. You don’t leave unless I say so. I tore up your resignation. Behave yourself.” He slammed the door and left. Late that night. I lay in bed, listening to his steady breathing beside me. I opened my eyes, fully awake. I quietly got out of bed and picked up his phone from the nightstand. The passcode was my birthday. How ironic. He used my birthday as a password while planning to destroy my life. I unlocked it, opened his hidden folder, and typed in the same passcode. When the folder opened, my breath hitched. It was filled with videos of us over the past three years. Not sex tapes, but something worse. Mental torture. Videos of me crying, begging him not to leave me for Chloe. Videos of me holding a birthday cake I made from scratch, saying, “Ethan, I’ll love you forever.” Videos of me slumped over my desk, sleeping from exhaustion while he recorded and laughed quietly in the background. And in a group chat named “The Hunt,” the latest messages made my blood run cold. Zachary: “Ethan, the projectors for her birthday party at Midnight are set up. Once we play these clips on the big screen, all of New York will see the proud Vaughan heiress acting like a desperate dog for you.” “Man, I can’t wait to see Julian Vaughan’s face. He’s going to lose his mind! You really tamed his little sister.” Ethan’s reply: “Make sure it goes smoothly. I want Julian broken.” My hands shook, but my eyes were ice. I selected all the videos, hit delete, and then permanently cleared the trash bin. Next, I logged out of his accounts, wiping any trace of my access. I put the phone back and looked out the window at the dark New York skyline. Ethan, your little game is officially over. On my birthday. The weather in New York was surprisingly clear. I woke up early, packing my remaining essentials and my ID into a single black suitcase. I looked around the room one last time. This beautiful villa was nothing but a gilded cage. Ethan came out of the bathroom, drying his hair. When his eyes landed on my suitcase, his gaze went cold. “Where do you think you’re going?” He marched over, slamming his hand on the suitcase handle. I didn’t flinch. I looked him dead in the eye and said smoothly, “Just dropping some old clothes off at a donation center. It’s my birthday, so I thought I’d clear out the closet and buy some new things.” Ethan stared at me, trying to detect a lie. But my expression was flawless. Finally, he let go, stepping in to kiss my forehead. His tone returned to its usual fake warmth. “Good. Have the driver take you. Don’t be late for the party tonight at Midnight. I have a huge surprise for you. I’m going to let everyone know you belong to me.” I lowered my gaze to hide the sheer disgust. “Okay,” I whispered. Ethan smiled, satisfied, and went to get dressed. The moment he left, I grabbed my suitcase and walked out of the villa without looking back. I didn’t call his driver. I didn’t go to any donation center. I hailed a cab on the street and went straight to JFK Airport.

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My most desperate moment wasn’t when I saw my daughter’s face photoshopped onto a naked body. It wasn’t when the image went viral in a group chat full of high school boys. It was when we went to report it, and Mrs. Evans looked her in the eye and said, “Boys will be boys, sweetheart. It’s just a phase.” My seventeen-year-old daughter, Maya, was quiet, sweet, and had never hurt a soul in her life. She was secretly photographed in a bathroom stall, her face merged onto obscene nudes, and publicly humiliated in a group chat for three agonizing hours. And what did she get instead of justice? A cold warning from the school “not to blow this out of proportion,” and a freezing shoulder from her own father. “The more you scream, the more you ruin her. Who’s going to want her after this?” When everyone begged her to swallow the dirt, I chose to fight. Armed with nothing but voice recordings, screenshots, medical records, and a burning rage, I took the school to court. I dragged the bullies into the light. And I locked the man who once promised to “protect us from the world” out of our lives forever. 1 Elena Miller’s POV My seventeen-year-old daughter Maya’s face was cropped onto a naked woman’s body. Accompanied by the most disgusting, filthy comments, the image had been circulating in three different high school boys’ Snapchat groups for three hours. And yet, when her guidance counselor, Mrs. Evans, called me into her office, the first words out of her mouth behind closed doors were: “Mrs. Miller, listen. Boys at this age are just curious. It’s hormones. Let’s handle this privately. We don’t want to blow this out of proportion and ruin these young men’s college prospects, do we?” I stared at Mrs. Evans’s phone screen, the blood in my veins turning to ice. The first screenshot was taken from beneath a bathroom stall divider. The side of the face was crystal clear. It was my sweet, introverted Maya. The next image was a sickening, AI-generated nude, captioned: “Look at Maya from class 3. Absolute trash, but hot, right?” Below it was a waterfall of laughing emojis, throw-up faces, and thumbs-ups. “How long has this been out?” I whispered, my voice trembling with pure rage. “We’re still verifying the shares, but it has already spread to the senior class chats,” Mrs. Evans said smoothly, taking her phone back. She crossed her hands on her desk with an air of professional superiority. “My advice? Let’s bring the boys’ parents in for a quiet chat. A young girl’s reputation is fragile, Elena. If you call the police, this goes public. How is Maya supposed to show her face at school after that?” Her reputation. Fragile. When those bastards were passing her around like a joke, not a single person cared about Maya’s reputation! “I’m calling the police,” I said. I pulled out my phone and dialed 91

Mrs. Evans’s face fell instantly. She reached across the desk and grabbed my wrist, her voice dropping into a harsh threat. “Mrs. Miller! There is a protocol for this! The boy’s family owns a massive business in this city. They have deep pockets and serious connections. If you blindly call the cops now, have you thought about the consequences?!” Consequences? I violently slapped her hand away. I remembered the parent-teacher meeting last semester. This exact woman had stood at the podium, promising a “zero-tolerance policy on harassment.” But now that the bully had rich parents, “zero-tolerance” became “boys will be boys”? “Sneaking a camera into a girls’ bathroom and distributing non-consensual pornography is not a phase. It’s a felony!” I glared at her. “If those were your daughter’s naked photos, would you be asking me to sit down and have a friendly chat?!” Mrs. Evans’s expression hardened. Her patience was gone. “Since you are being so uncooperative, the school will not assist you further. I strongly advise against police involvement, and we will not be releasing any security footage or internal records to help your case.” I didn’t argue. I had never been more clear-headed in my life. Screaming at her would change nothing. The school had already chosen its side. I took a sharp step forward, snatched Mrs. Evans’s phone off her desk, and opened the Snapchat thread. I held up my own phone and immediately started recording a video of the screen. The usernames, the timestamps, the photoshopped images, the filthy comments. Click. Click. Click. “What do you think you’re doing?! That is private school property!” Mrs. Evans panicked, lunging to grab her phone back. I ignored her, quickly capturing dozens of screenshots. Combined with the voice recording I had started the moment I walked into her office, I gripped my phone like a lifeline. “Private property? No. This is the evidence that’s going to put them in handcuffs.” I slammed her office door behind me. The hallway was empty; the final bell had rung long ago. I dialed Maya’s number over and over. “The subscriber you are trying to reach is not available…” I didn’t know where Maya was. I didn’t know if she had already seen the disgusting things they were saying about her. The cold wind slapped my face as I walked out of the building. I clenched my fists. They wanted to bury this in a quiet office? In their dreams. 2 Elena Miller’s POV My hands were shaking as I hailed a cab to go find my daughter. By mid-afternoon, my phone buzzed. It was Mrs. Evans again. The moment I picked up, her voice was frantic. “Elena, you need to get to the downtown hospital emergency room right now! Someone sent the screenshots to Maya. She smashed her phone and locked herself in the hospital bathroom. She won’t come out!” My head spun. My mind went entirely blank. I screamed at the cab driver to step on the gas. The ER observation wing was at the end of a long, white hallway. The smell of bleach and antiseptic hit me like a solid wall. I ran through the doors and saw Chloe, Maya’s friend, crouching outside a room, her school hoodie stained with dirt. Chloe looked up, her eyes red and puffy. “Mrs. Miller… the whole school knows. Someone DM’ed the photos straight to Maya. She saw them, lost her mind, and threw her phone against the wall.” My feet glued to the floor. I looked past Chloe toward the half-open door of the hospital room. The bed was empty. But the bathroom door inside was shut tight. I walked over, my fingers touching the cold metal handle, and immediately heard the click of the lock from the inside. Then, the sound of Maya’s choked, desperate sobbing leaked through the wood. “Maya,” I said, my throat feeling like it was full of broken glass. “Open the door, baby.” No response. The crying stopped for a second, swallowed down by sheer panic, replaced by shallow, hyperventilating gasps. I slid down and sat on the edge of the empty hospital bed, feeling entirely drained. I looked at Chloe’s phone. The Snapchat groups were still going crazy. Someone had tagged Maya: “Is your mom gonna die of embarrassment when she sees this?” Right after, another photoshopped image popped up with a single caption: “Trash.” A string of laughing emojis followed. My fingers pressed against Chloe’s screen so hard my knuckles turned white. I systematically saved every single screenshot. Someone in the chat joked: “Did she actually kill herself or something?” The immediate reply: “Even better. Free show.” Just as I saved the last screenshot, my phone rang. The caller ID: Marcus Vance. For a second, I hesitated. But in that second, my mind flashed back to seventeen years ago in the delivery room. The man who had held my hand, eyes red, swearing he would protect us from anything, was now looking at this tragedy with nothing but cold, upper-class indifference. I pressed accept. “Don’t make a scene out of this, Elena,” Marcus’s voice was flat, totally devoid of warmth. “If this gets out, it ruins everyone.” No “How is our daughter?” No “Is Maya hurt?” Not even “What did they do to her?” “Don’t make a scene” was the first thing out of his mouth. My heart felt like it was being carved out by a dull knife. “Do you have any idea where Maya is right now? She is locked in a hospital bathroom, terrified to even make a sound while she cries!” The line went silent for two seconds. Then Marcus sighed, his tone dripping with irritation. “It’s just high school boys being boys. You making a big deal out of this only feeds their attention.” I listened to his corporate, polished excuses while my daughter’s muffled, agonizing cries echoed from the bathroom. The contrast made me physically sick. Marcus continued, “If you keep pushing this, it’s going to affect the custody agreement. You know how that works.” I pulled the phone away from my ear, hit the record button to save the call, and hung up. The crying in the bathroom shifted. I leaned my forehead against the wooden door and spoke softly, but with a voice like iron. “Maya. You don’t have to come out right now. But I promise you, I will make them pay.” 3 Elena Miller’s POV When we finally got back to our apartment, Maya immediately locked herself in her bedroom. I stood outside her door, holding a plate of freshly cooked steak. The plate made a soft click as I set it down on the floor. “I’m leaving the food right here, sweetheart,” I said to the closed door. Not a single sliver of light came from under the frame. Maya was so quiet she felt like a ghost. I went back to the living room and sank into the couch. My iMessage icon showed dozens of unread notifications. I tapped on the pinned chat at the top, the Vance Family Group Chat. A group I hadn’t uttered a single word in since the divorce. Marcus’s father, Arthur Vance, had sent a message that sat at the top like a toxic weight: “Control Maya. Don’t let outsiders laugh at our family over this trash.” The replies from the relatives flooded in right after. “Exactly. A girl’s reputation is everything.” “If she didn’t act out, boys wouldn’t do this. Marcus, you need to talk to Elena.” “Marcus, sort this out.” And Marcus? He remained completely silent in the chat, silently agreeing to the public execution of his own daughter’s dignity. I stared at the screen, my face blank. I didn’t type a furious reply. I didn’t leave the group. I simply pressed the screenshot buttons, capturing Arthur’s words, the relatives’ faces, and their contact cards. Every single one of them. Once I finished, I called Marcus back. It rang five times before he picked up. “Have you seen the family chat?” I asked directly. Marcus lowered his voice. “…Yes.” I waited for him to say more. A stupid, naive part of me hoped this father would stand up for his daughter just once in front of his elitist family. But Marcus spoke. “Look, my dad isn’t entirely wrong, Elena. The more noise you make, the worse it gets. Who is ever going to want to marry her in the future if she’s known for this?” That sentence blew away the very last ashes of respect I had left for him. “Let me ask you something,” my voice cracked, shattering the quiet of the apartment. “She locked herself in a hospital bathroom today. Now she’s locked in her room, and she won’t eat. Have you asked her how she is? Just once?!” Marcus remained unmoved, his voice carrying that familiar, condescending tone. “Calm down. I’ll talk to the family. Just make sure she eats.” He hung up on me. I set the phone down. The call had been automatically recorded. I opened my notes app and began cataloging the evidence: 7:12 PM. Arthur Vance: “She’s bringing embarrassment to the family.” 7:14 PM. Marcus Vance: “Who is ever going to want her after this?” I suddenly remembered the day Maya was born. Marcus’s mother, Eleanor, had held her in the hospital room, bragging to the nurses, “She’s a Vance through and through.” I let out a cold, cynical laugh and typed one last line in my notes: The Vances say Maya belongs to them. I stood up and walked back to Maya’s room. The food outside her door was cold. The darkness beneath her door was absolute. 4 Elena Miller’s POV Marcus’s phone call came in just as I was putting on my coat. I stood in the entryway, looking at his name flashing on the screen. I answered. “Elena, let me give you some perspective here,” Marcus said, his voice dripping with that arrogant, corporate tone. “The boy’s family is very influential. They run half the real estate in this city. If you back down, they’ll make sure Maya gets taken care of. If you drag this out, the only one who suffers is Maya.” My heels clicked sharply against the hardwood floor as I hung up on him, muted my phone, and slipped it into my pocket. Half an hour later, I was standing outside a massive estate in the wealthy suburbs of the city. The door opened, and the boy’s mother stood there. She wore an expensive beige cashmere dress. She looked me up and down, blocking the doorway completely. “I’m Maya’s mother,” I said, keeping my voice deadpan. “Your son harassed my daughter at school. I want a written, face-to-face apology to Maya.” The mother adjusted her collar and let out a soft, dismissive chuckle. “Oh, please. Kids play around. It’s not like he actually took her clothes off. Coming to my house like this? You’re making yourself look desperate.” The father walked up behind her, holding a cup of espresso. He didn’t even look at me. “Maybe Maya should watch how she behaves around boys. Why is it always our son’s fault?” I stood on the porch, looking at this smug, wealthy couple. I memorized their faces, etched their arrogance into my mind, and turned around. The heavy oak door slammed shut behind me, a loud bang that felt like a laugh at my expense. I drove straight to the school. In the administration building, Mrs. Evans’s desk was empty, her coffee cup cold. Principal Cooper intercepted me at the end of the hall, a polished, fake smile plastered across his face. “Mrs. Miller, Mrs. Evans is out sick today. We are conducting an internal investigation. As for the security cameras from that day… well, as you know, the system is old, and it happened to be down for maintenance.” Down for maintenance. Happened to be. I stared at him. “Where is the maintenance log and the technician’s report?” Principal Cooper’s smile faltered for a fraction of a second. “We are compiling the paperwork. Why don’t you take Maya home to rest? We will contact you when we have an update.” With that, he slipped into his office, leaving the door slightly ajar. I could hear faint laughter from inside. I didn’t leave. I sat down on the concrete steps outside the school, pulled out my phone, and scrolled to a picture of last semester’s syllabus. There was Mrs. Evans’s quote printed on the front page: “Any report of harassment will be investigated within 24 hours, with disciplinary action taken immediately.” I stared at it and moved the photo into a folder labeled “EVIDENCE.” Lies. Cover-ups. Deflection. They thought I would get tired and walk away. But they had no idea what a mother who has nothing left to lose is capable of.

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I spent an entire year working myself to the bone for the Paris Avant-Garde Fashion Showcase. I almost went blind. All I wanted was to bring the last piece of art my late Grandma Evelyn left me onto the global stage. But right before the flight, Carter, my boyfriend of five years, canceled my ticket. He took the couture gown I had hand-sewn with my own blood and sweat and put it on his sob-story assistant. He said: “Chloe’s depression is flaring up again. She needs this runway show to rebuild her confidence.” “You’re the talented one, Maya. You’ll have other chances. Just do this to help her out.” He thought I would swallow my pride and step back, just like I had done for the last five years. But he didn’t know. Once you give some things away, they are gone forever. And along with that dress, my love for him was completely drained. Later, that parasite of an assistant was thoroughly ruined, and Carter’s family empire went bankrupt. He knelt in a raging blizzard, begging me to look at him. But I just held the arm of Julian Vance, the sole heir of New York’s top financial empire, and didn’t even spare Carter a glance. “Get lost, Carter. Don’t get your cheap hands on my dress.”

Three days before the start of Paris Fashion Week, I dragged my temperature-controlled case filled with couture designs to JFK Airport, dripping with sweat. Carter and I had agreed to meet at Terminal 3. I had spent countless sleepless nights on this collection, working until my retinas were bloodshot, just to win this invitation to the international showcase. But when I stood in front of the self-service kiosk, it didn’t print my boarding pass. Instead, a cold notification popped up on the screen: Flight canceled. Ticket refunded. I called Carter. His phone was off. Fifteen minutes later, I saw him through the glass wall of the VIP lounge. He was wearing the black trench coat I had personally tailored for him, leaning down to tenderly adjust a scarf around Chloe’s neck. Chloe was holding my sketchbook in her hands. Around her neck hung my official entry pass. And in the temperature-controlled case next to her feet was Grandma Evelyn’s final masterpiece, which was supposed to be in my hands! Before I could even get close, Chloe’s eyes welled up with tears, and she shrank behind Carter. “Maya, please don’t be mad. I just… I just wanted to see Paris so badly.” “My anxiety has been so terrible lately.” When Carter saw me, his gentle expression instantly hardened into a scowl. “What are you doing here?” I pointed at the case by her feet, my fingers trembling. “That’s mine.” Carter took an impatient step forward, blocking Chloe from my view. “Chloe is in a bad mental state. The doctor said she needs to travel and clear her mind.” “What’s the big deal if she borrows your dress just to take some photos outside the venue and make herself feel better?” “Then what about my plane ticket?” Carter paused, pulled a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket, and shoved it into my hand. “I bought you a ticket back home. You’ve been too tired lately. Go back and get some rest.” He looked down at me, his voice low, but every word stabbed like a dagger. “Paris is a shark tank. Even if you go, you’ll just be a nobody in the background.” “Chloe is different. She needs this exposure to apply to Parsons. Don’t be a party pooper.”

I looked at the ticket. A one-way, coach-class ticket back home. So, my year of sleepless nights, of almost losing my eyesight, was worth nothing more than a retreat Carter had patronizingly arranged for me. I ripped the ticket to shreds and threw them into the air. Carter’s face twisted in anger. “Maya! What kind of tantrum are you throwing now?” I glared at him, my eyes burning. “My pass, my sketchbook, and my grandmother’s masterpiece are all in her hands. Why the hell should I leave?” Chloe immediately grabbed Carter’s sleeve, tears streaming down her face. “Carter, maybe I should just give everything back to Maya. I should go back to the hospital. I don’t deserve to see the show anyway…” She said she wanted to give it back, but her hands clutched the case tighter. Carter frowned at me, his eyes filled with disgust. “Chloe is literally this sick, and you’re trying to publicly humiliate her and drive her over the edge?” While he spoke, I reached into my pocket and silently turned on my backup phone. The recording app started ticking away. The airport PA system began announcing final boarding for the flight to Paris. Chloe gently tugged at Carter’s sleeve. “Carter, we have to go, or we’ll miss the flight.” Carter didn’t look at me again. With one hand around Chloe’s waist and the other dragging my case, he turned and walked into the VIP boarding lane. I stood there, watching their retreating backs. A massive tower in my heart crumbled to dust. I turned around, walked to the ticketing counter, and bought a ticket on the next budget flight to Europe. Three layovers. Thirty-six hours of travel. No checked baggage allowance. Just a single backpack. Halfway through, Carter sent me a message on SnapChat. “Chloe gets panic attacks on planes. Don’t send any messages to trigger her.” I didn’t reply. Thirty-six hours later, with swollen legs and dark circles under my eyes, I stood at the front desk of the hotel in Paris. The receptionist checked my passport, looking apologetic. “Miss Maya, the reservation was indeed paid for with your card.” “However, Mr. Carter changed the guest name to Miss Chloe.” I gripped my passport. “Who gave him permission to do that?” “I am sorry. Mr. Carter claimed he is your fiancé and showed us a screenshot of your authorization.” Ding. The elevator doors opened. Carter walked out, wearing a plush bathrobe, his hair slightly messy. When he saw me, his first words weren’t to ask how I had survived thirty-six hours of exhausting layovers. Instead, he knitted his brows and hissed, “Are you seriously stalking us all the way to Paris?” I looked at him. “Where is my room?” “Chloe just took her meds and fell asleep. Keep your voice down.” “I asked you, where is my room?!” Carter rubbed his temples, his tone incredibly dismissive. “The hotel is fully booked.” “There’s a small storage room in the basement with a cot. You can crash there for tonight.” He tossed a rusty key onto the floor at my feet. “Don’t come upstairs and make a scene. Chloe can’t handle any stress.” I looked down at the key and suddenly let out a cold laugh. “Carter, I worked night shifts for three months drawing blueprints to save up enough money to book this suite.” “I know.” His voice grew even lower, carrying a chilling indifference. “But Chloe is weak. She’s exhausted after a ten-hour flight.” “Maya, grow up. Stop being so petty about everything.” I reached into my pocket and tapped my phone. The recording was still going. This time, I didn’t swallow my tears like I used to. When I pushed open the basement storage door, a foul smell of mold and dust hit my face. Mops, bleach, and mountains of dirty laundry filled the space. My temperature-controlled case was carelessly dumped right next to a bucket of dirty water. The lock had been brutally smashed open. My blood ran cold. I lunged forward. The inside was a total mess. My sketchbook was there, and my sewing kit was there. But the heavy-embroidered couture gown, “Ethereal,” was gone. My phone buzzed. It was a message from Carter. “Chloe took the gown to try it on. She says she wants to wear it to the showcase tomorrow.” “It’s an honor for your work to be worn by her. Don’t be ungrateful.”

The next morning, the showcase committee announced that the preliminary review would take place at 10 AM at the plaza outside the Louvre. I hadn’t slept a wink. Clutching my broken case, I rushed upstairs. As soon as the elevator doors opened, I saw Chloe standing by the floor-to-ceiling window at the end of the hallway. She was wearing my “Ethereal.” It was a piece sewn stitch by stitch with ultra-fine silver threads, forming a stunning celestial map. But right now, Carter was holding a pair of scissors, cutting open the back hem of the gown without a second thought. His movements were so casual it made my heart turn to ice. That gown was the last piece of art Grandma Evelyn had taught me to embroider, stitch by stitch, when she was on her deathbed. Grandma had said: “Maya, when you go to the big stage, bring this sky with you. Let the world see our heritage.” I rushed over, my voice hoarse with pure fury. “Take it off!” Chloe gasped, her eyes instantly turning red. “Maya, I didn’t know this was yours…” “Carter told me he bought this couture piece for me.” Carter immediately shielded her behind him, pointing the scissors at me. “Maya, you want her to strip right here? This is a public hallway. Do you have any decency?” I stared at him. “That is my grandmother’s final legacy!” Carter’s face stiffened for a fraction of a second, but then he sneered. “The old woman has been dead for years. Are you really going to trigger Chloe’s panic attack over a piece of dead fabric?” Chloe hid behind him, her shoulders shaking as she sobbed. Carter immediately turned around, whispering sweet things to comfort her. “Don’t worry, babe. She’s just crazy. She’s jealous because you look prettier in it than she ever could.” At the preliminary review, Chloe, wearing the mutilated “Ethereal,” took center stage. She held my sketchbook, leaning into Carter’s chest, smiling coyly for the cameras of international media. Some peers from our college recognized Carter and cheered: “Wow, Carter! Your girlfriend’s dress is insane! It’s gorgeous!” Carter didn’t correct them. He just turned his head and gave me a cold, warning look. There was no guilt in his eyes. Only a high-and-mighty threat. After the review, Chloe held up the ruined hem of the dress and ran down to the steps by the Seine. “Carter, take some solo photos of me! I want to post them on Ins!” I marched over and grabbed her wrist. “Take the dress off and give it back to me.” Chloe struggled, pulling back. “Maya, I’m not done taking photos…” “Take. It. Off!” During the struggle, she suddenly shrieked. A sharp ripping sound echoed through the air. The delicate silk hem had snagged on the sharp iron railing of the stairs. The gorgeous silver embroidery tore open, leaving a huge, ugly gash. Chloe took the opportunity to fall straight into Carter’s arms, sobbing uncontrollably. “I didn’t mean to! Why did Maya have to push me?” Carter shoved me away with brutal force. Unprepared, I fell heavily onto the stone steps. My palms scraped against the rough concrete, and blood instantly welled up. But he didn’t even look at me. He was too busy inspecting Chloe’s ankle. “Did you twist it? Does it hurt?” I looked down at the bright red blood on my hands, then at the completely ruined “Ethereal.” Carter looked back, his eyes as cold as ice. “Are you happy now, Maya? Do you have to ruin everything before you’re satisfied?” I opened my mouth, but the taste of copper filled my throat. Before I could speak, Chloe suddenly pulled a crumpled little fabric pouch from the inner pocket of the dress. “Ugh, what is this cheap junk? It was pressing against my skin the whole time.” My face drained of all color. That was the silver locket and lucky charm containing Grandma’s hair. I lunged to grab it, but Chloe let go of her hand, pretending to slip. The pouch fell straight into the rushing currents of the Seine, swallowed instantly by the dark waves. I knelt on the cold stone bank, reaching wildly into the water. But there was nothing. Only the freezing river water, chilling me to the bone. Carter stood behind me, his voice dripping with impatience. “It’s just a cheap pouch. I’ll buy you ten designer bags when we get back, okay?” I knelt on the ground, my fingers clutching the cracks in the stone so hard my nails cracked, bleeding onto the rock. At that exact moment, I finally woke up. Some people don’t hurt you because they don’t know your pain. They hurt you because to them, your entire life isn’t worth a single tear from their precious lover.

At noon, Carter sent me a text on WhatsApp. “Bring your original design sketches to the exhibition hall. Chloe needs them for her judge interview this afternoon.” I didn’t go. I sat in the damp basement storage room and opened my laptop. My cloud backup was empty. My entire life’s work from the past three years had been wiped out. The entire series of sketches titled “Rebirth” was gone. I had worked on them for three long years. Countless sleepless nights, hundreds of worn-down pencils. I wanted to show them to the world on the Paris stage. But now, they were gone. I called Carter. Before the call connected, I turned on the recording on my backup phone again. He took his time answering. In the background, I could hear the soft jazz of a high-end restaurant and the clinking of expensive cutlery. “What now?” “Where are my cloud sketches?” There was a two-second silence on the other end. “Chloe needed a headline collection to apply to Parsons. I copied your sketches for her.” “And I cleared the cloud so you wouldn’t do anything stupid and ruin her chances.” I shook so hard my teeth clattered. “Who gave you the right to steal my life’s work?” Carter’s voice turned icy, filled with the arrogant condescension of a wealthy heir. “Maya, can you stop being so selfish?” “You’re just an undergraduate. Those sketches are wasted in your hands anyway.” “Chloe is different. She actually needs them.” I let out a harsh laugh. “So my future is just a stepping stone for her?” “It’s just borrowing your name temporarily.” “Carter, that was three years of my life!” He fell silent for a moment. When he spoke again, his voice was utterly heartless. “Maya, don’t bite the hand that feeds you. Without the Wilson family’s resources, do you honestly think you’d even be in Paris?” I hung up. Ten minutes later, the design community back home went into a frenzy. Chloe had posted a set of design sketches on Instagram and Twitter. The caption read: “East Coast Aesthetics: My Paris Debut.” The first slide was my main collection blueprint. The second slide was my embroidery breakdown. The third was a highly edited photo of her wearing my damaged gown. The comments below were filled with worship. “Chloe is a literal genius!” Our college dean even posted in the student group chat: “Chloe, this collection is outstanding. It’s enough to secure your early admission to Parsons. We are so proud of you.” I grabbed my coat and stormed towards the Michelin-starred restaurant they were at. I kicked the private dining room door open. Carter was leaning over, patiently cutting a steak for Chloe. He had never cut my food for me. Once, when I accidentally cut my hand while rushing a deadline and couldn’t even hold a fork, he had mocked me, saying I couldn’t even feed myself. But now, that perfectly cut steak was placed right in front of Chloe. The waiter served foie gras. Carter subconsciously said, “Maya can’t eat organ meats, it makes her sick.” My steps paused. The next second, he pushed the expensive white truffle pasta to Chloe. “You have a delicate stomach, eat this.” I felt a sudden wave of absurdity. He remembered everything. He just consciously chose to give his care to someone else. I marched over and held out my hand. “Give me the flash drive with my sketches.” Chloe’s eyes instantly turned red, looking like a frightened little deer. “Maya, I really just wanted to try my best to prove myself…” I stared at her coldly. “By stealing someone else’s work? Does that prove you’re a thief?” Carter slammed his fork onto the plate, making a sharp, metallic screech. “Maya, watch your mouth!” “If you’re so worried about being clean, maybe you shouldn’t have done something so filthy!” The room fell into a dead silence. Carter stood up, his tall frame towering over me, his face extremely dark. “Do you have to embarrass us abroad and ruin this dinner?” “You ruined my entire life!” Chloe sobbed, shaking her head. “Maya, Carter gave me the sketches. I thought you agreed to it.” “If I knew you didn’t want to, I would rather die than use them.” Carter wrapped his arm around her shoulders, glaring at me. “I gave them to her. If you have a problem, take it out on me.” I sneered. “Great. Then post a public statement right now telling the world who actually drew those sketches!” He instantly went quiet. Chloe wept even harder, clutching Carter’s shirt. “Maya, why do you have to push Carter like this?” “You already have so many great designs. Can’t you just let me have this one?” The next second, my phone screen lit up. It was an official email from our college board. “Maya, we have received a formal plagiarism report accusing you of stealing Chloe’s showcase designs.” “Your graduation portfolio review has been suspended, and your degree is being withheld.” Immediately after, an email from the top NYC design studio I had signed with popped up. “Dear Miss Maya, due to a severe academic and commercial plagiarism controversy, your employment offer has been rescinded.” I stood frozen, staring at the words on the screen. My blood turned to absolute ice. I found out later that the “formal report” had been sent by Chloe herself. She had recorded the confrontation in the private room earlier, edited it to make me look like a hysterical bully trying to steal her work, and sent it to the school and the studio. She didn’t just want to steal my designs. She wanted to brand me as a plagiarist forever, ensuring I could never work in this industry again. I didn’t have a powerful family like Carter. I didn’t have the luxury of crying to get whatever I wanted like Chloe. That job offer was my only ticket to a better life. And they had just destroyed it. Seeing my pale face, Carter frowned. “What’s wrong?” I threw my phone straight at his chest. He looked down at the screen, and for a fleeting moment, a flash of panic crossed his eyes. But Chloe quickly tugged his sleeve, her voice trembling. “Carter, I’m scared… did I do something wrong?” And just like that, his guilt vanished. He tossed the phone back onto the table and said in a patronizing, dismissive voice: “Maya, don’t blow this out of proportion.” “If you just post a statement saying you ‘inspired’ each other, Chloe is kind enough not to sue you.” I looked at this man I had loved for five years in sheer disbelief. “You want me, the actual creator, to publicly apologize to a thief?” He avoided my eyes, sounding irritated. “We need to quiet down the media first! You don’t have a backup. If you fight this, you will lose!” I threw my head back and laughed. I laughed so hard tears came out of my eyes. The designs were mine, she was the thief, he was the accomplice who handed her the knife. And yet, I was the one who had to kneel and apologize.

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