Author: Momo Chan

Married for six years, Charlie Simpson finally agreed to hold a wedding for me, Evelyn Hayes. But our adopted son, Oscar Simpson, suddenly fell seriously ill, and Charlie and Oscar hurriedly flew abroad for treatment. Worried, I rushed over, only to find Charlie and his elder brother’s wife, Juliet Harrison, holding a wedding on the street. He knelt on one knee and said to Juliet, who was wearing a wedding dress, “Once we’re back home, life will push us forward again.” “No one knows us here, so let’s be reckless just this once.” I watched Oscar call her mom, the three of them looking so happy together, and quietly returned home, changing the bride’s name at the wedding venue to Juliet. Then, I called my teacher Valerie Harvey. “May I still have a chance to play a supporting role in your newly rehearsed musical?” “Have you figured it out?” On the other end, Valerie’s voice paused for a second, then was filled with excitement and joy. “Of course! You were my chosen successor back then. The troupe is heading to Paris for an exchange in half a month. Can you join us?” I said, “Mm, I’ll be there on time.” After hanging up, the wedding planning team quickly called to confirm. “Ms. Hayes, do you want to change the bride’s name to Juliet Harrison?” After receiving my confirmation and double-checking, they cautiously asked, “Has the bride changed? What about the plans…” “I’ll have the bride communicate with you in a few days,” I said calmly. After hanging up, that ache in my chest resurfaced. Charlie and I had been in love for years and were about to get married when his brother, Paul Simpson, passed away unexpectedly. Juliet was already pregnant at the time, and Charlie’s mother, Hazel Simpson, couldn’t bear to see her widowed so young, so she suggested that Charlie marry her too. At that time, I also found out I was pregnant and caused a big scene. Only then did Hazel back down and instead suggested adopting Juliet’s child to Charlie. Later, Juliet went abroad, and Charlie and I quickly got our marriage certificate. I became a stepmother at a young age and faced a lot of criticism. Charlie kept postponing the wedding, using Paul’s recent passing as an excuse. I was joyfully preparing for the wedding. But worried about Oscar, I dropped everything for the wedding and searched for a long time at the hospital address they gave me. But on the bustling street, I ran into Charlie, who was supposed to be waiting outside the operating room. In my shocked eyes, the reflection showed Charlie holding Juliet, dressed in a wedding gown. She covered her mouth, tears in her eyes, staring in disbelief as Charlie knelt on one knee, offering her a ring. I was stunned too. I never expected Charlie to have such feelings for Juliet. “Dad, Mom, I want you to stay together forever.” Oscar rushed over to hug them, his little face scrunched up. “I don’t want Dad to marry that woman.” Mentioning me, Charlie’s smile faded slightly, but his gaze at Juliet was filled with helplessness and pain. He said, “I don’t want to either. But there’s no choice.” “Your mom and I can’t be together. We each have our own lives.” He turned to Juliet, his gaze becoming gentle yet firm. “But now, we can let loose for once.” The crowd’s cheers erupted, like thunder splitting the sky above me. I staggered back two steps, watching them embrace and kiss deeply. The camera captured them, taking one wedding photo after another. Afterward, Charlie lifted Juliet’s gown for her. I followed behind them like a ghost. Juliet suddenly started sobbing, her affectionate eyes full of reluctance. “I’ll get married someday too, what will Oscar do then?” Charlie saw her tears and immediately got nervous. “Don’t cry, Oscar still has me.” “You know that’s not what I mean,” she said, biting her lip, aggrieved. Charlie said, “Don’t worry, Evelyn won’t have children. I’ve been giving her birth control pills all these years. When we return, I’ll get a vasectomy. From now on, she can only treat Oscar well.” Hearing Charlie say this, Juliet finally broke into a smile through her tears. At that moment, it felt like a bucket of ice water was poured over me, chilling me to the bone. For six years, Hazel had mocked me countless times for being “unable to conceive.” Each time, Charlie would stand up for me. “It doesn’t matter if Evelyn has children or not, I won’t force her. Besides, we have Oscar.” The words that once moved me now send chills down my spine. I didn’t dare to keep watching and had to flee back home in embarrassment. I looked at the carefully chosen gift boxes lined up, just waiting for Charlie to come back and pick one with me. Looking at the half-written wedding invitations, the joy and excitement I once felt turned into a pain that tore at my very soul. I stayed alone in my room, crying for days until my throat went hoarse and I could no longer make a sound. Today, I finally informed all the guests and let out a deep sigh. Since they can’t be together, I’ll give them a hand. I’m willing to step aside and let them be.

By the time Charlie came back, I had already composed myself. He held Oscar’s hand and naturally led Juliet inside. Seeing me sitting on the sofa, he paused and asked, “Why are you here? Weren’t you supposed to be picking out a wedding dress?” I looked at his instinctive move to shield Juliet behind him, feeling a dull ache in my chest. So he did remember that we had an appointment to pick out a wedding dress today. But he only sent me one text: [I might not make it back today, you go ahead and check it out.] He avoided my gaze and explained, “The flight changed, and I wanted to surprise you. I just happened to run into Juliet at the door.” Juliet gave an awkward smile and casually took my arm. “Perfect timing, aren’t you trying on wedding dresses? I’ll come along and give you some advice.” I agreed without hesitation. At the bridal shop, the staff saw Charlie and Juliet walking side by side while I walked behind with Oscar, and naturally asked Juliet, “Miss, what style do you like? We also have new arrivals inside.” Juliet was drawn to a wedding dress in the display window, her eyes lighting up as she instinctively looked at Charlie. I noticed it was the same style as the one she had worn abroad. The staff quickly said, “If you like it, you can try it on first!” Oscar also rushed forward excitedly, saying, “Aunt Juliet, this one suits you perfectly!” “Then go try it on,” Charlie said instinctively, a doting smile on his lips. As soon as he finished speaking, he suddenly realized my presence, and a trace of panic flashed across his face. He explained, “Juliet is about to remarry, so she can try it on to get a feel. Evelyn, try on whichever one you like. As long as you’re happy, anything is fine.” He looked at me affectionately, but I just found it a bit amusing. He also knew that Juliet’s blind date was successful and that she was preparing to get married. The curtain was pulled open with a “swish.” Juliet, like an excited little bird, lifted her skirt and walked over lightly. “Charlie, look!” Charlie was instantly stunned, his usually indifferent eyes filled with amazement. “This wedding dress suits you so well, even the groom is speechless from your beauty,” the staff praised, clearly assuming Juliet was the bride. But Charlie’s attention was entirely on Juliet, completely ignoring me, the real bride. “Aunt Juliet, you look so beautiful. Let me take some photos of you,” Oscar said, grabbing Charlie’s phone and snapping pictures nonstop around her. Charlie smiled helplessly, happiness almost overflowing from his eyes. I watched the scene before me, gave a self-deprecating smile, and turned to find the staff to settle the bill. I said, “The one she’s wearing will do, and let’s have the styling done here as well. When the time comes, the makeup artist can just come over and do it for her directly.” The staff said, “Alright, let me confirm, the bride is Juliet Harrison, correct?” I nodded and smiled, saying yes. Then, I walked up to Charlie. “Let’s go, I’ve paid.” He finally came to his senses, his smile suddenly froze, and he awkwardly asked, “Didn’t you try it on yet? Aren’t you going to look at others?” I said, “No need, let’s go home.” As soon as we got home, Oscar suddenly tugged at my sleeve and said, “Mom, my head hurts a lot.” He frowned, his eyes watery, and my heart wavered for a moment. After all, he is the child I raised with my own hands. The first word he learned was “Mom,” which he called out while hugging my neck. Even though he later learned about his background and became somewhat distant, in my heart, my love for him has always been unconditional. Even just a few days ago, I saw with my own eyes how he and Charlie betrayed me, but seeing his pain now, I still grabbed the keys without hesitation. I said, “Let’s go, I’ll take you to the hospital.” I walked out of the bedroom but didn’t see Charlie anywhere. However, I didn’t have time to care and immediately took Oscar to the hospital. The test results were all normal, but Oscar insisted on staying in the hospital. I had no choice but to stay with him. The next morning, I stepped out of the hospital, just about to buy breakfast for Oscar, but saw a couple passionately kissing at the corner. Juliet said, “Hurry up, or she’ll find out.” Charlie said, “It’s fine, Oscar is keeping her occupied. Juliet, I really want to marry you.” “If she hadn’t forced me to marry her by getting pregnant back then, I would have married you long ago.” I froze. Seeing Charlie’s face filled with resentment, I instantly felt a pang in my chest. Turns out, Oscar was faking illness to deceive me. Turns out, Charlie had long regretted marrying me.

I stumbled back to the hospital room. My heart, which should have been numb long ago, still ached sharply. Looking at the sleeping Oscar, I unconsciously reached out and plucked a strand of his hair. Before long, Charlie rushed over, his face full of apology. “Evelyn, I’m sorry. The company was too busy last night. I came over as soon as I saw your message this morning.” He pretended to pat Oscar’s head, glanced at the medical records, and finally let out a sigh of relief. “Luckily, everything’s fine. You must be tired. Take Oscar home.” I nodded, completed the discharge procedures, and handed two strands of hair to the doctor. When I returned to the ward, Juliet was sitting by the bed, feeding Oscar porridge. She took a small sip to check if it was too hot, leaving a bit on her lips. Charlie saw this and smiled, naturally reaching out to wipe it off for her. Seeing me come in, Charlie and Oscar both turned their heads, showing identical cold disdain. Charlie quickly put on a gentle expression. “Evelyn, you must be tired, right? Juliet came to visit Oscar and brought some seafood porridge. Have some too.” My throat tightened, and I gave a bitter smile, “I’m allergic to seafood.” He froze for a moment, awkwardly opening his mouth. “I’ve been so busy lately, I forgot about that.” I didn’t say anything else, just quietly packed my luggage. Oscar occasionally cast resentful glances at me. Realizing I was disturbing their family of three, I tactfully left the room. Soon, Charlie took us home. He glanced at me and tentatively said, “You’re busy preparing for the wedding these days. How about letting Juliet stay to take care of Oscar for now?” He signaled Oscar with his eyes, and Oscar immediately whimpered weakly, clutching tightly onto Juliet’s sleeve. I knew their intentions clearly. But I was tired and just went along with them. During the days Juliet stayed at home, I quietly wrote the invitations. I changed all my names on them to “Juliet Harrison.” A few days later, Charlie took us to Hazel’s house for dinner. As the door opened, Hazel warmly greeted Juliet and Oscar. When she saw me, her expression instantly changed, and she rolled her eyes. At the dining table, Oscar kept calling out “Aunt Juliet.” Hazel was happily chatting with Juliet, but as soon as she heard that title, her face darkened. “What Aunt Juliet? She’s your real mom!” She scoffed and glanced at my reaction. She never liked me anyway, probably waiting for me to argue so she could take the chance to scold me. But I just kept my head down, eating, pretending not to hear. Hazel’s face instantly changed, and she slammed her fork onto the table. Then she pointed at me and yelled, “Is it because you’re too jealous to let Oscar acknowledge his real mom?” “I haven’t even confronted you yet. Oscar was seriously ill and went abroad for treatment, but you stayed behind to plan a wedding? And just a few days ago, he was hospitalized again—is this how you take care of a child?” Oscar immediately started sobbing cooperatively, looking aggrieved. “I want to call her mom too.” I looked at Charlie’s silence, then at Juliet’s smug expression, feeling nothing but absurdity and exhaustion. I said calmly, “Fine, it’s my fault. I’ll take the punishment.” After speaking, without waiting for their reaction, I turned and went to the study. Hazel used to find every possible way to pick on me. As long as Oscar felt a bit unwell, she would blame me and punish me by making me kneel in the study. But now, I just sit on the chair for some peace and quiet. Unexpectedly, after a while, Juliet came over. She said, “Evelyn, don’t take what I said earlier to heart. Oscar is still young; he will definitely acknowledge you as his mom.” The mockery in her eyes was barely concealed. Before she finished speaking, seeing me scrolling on my phone while sitting on the chair, her expression changed. “Why aren’t you kneeling?” “This is the Simpson family’s rule. Hazel said to make Charlie a cup of coffee, why haven’t you done it yet?” She pretended to be anxious and shoved the coffee pot into my hand without giving me a chance to refuse. But her hands trembled violently, and the scalding coffee poured straight onto my hand. I clenched my teeth in pain and instinctively shook it off. “Ah!” She got splashed by the coffee, screamed in pain, and lost her grip, causing the coffee pot to crash to the ground. “What’s wrong?” Charlie and Hazel rushed in. Seeing the scene before them, their faces instantly turned pale.

My name is Eve Collins. My parents, Aaron Collins and Dianna Collins, along with my sister Kate Collins, were traveling by the sea when a tsunami struck, and all three of them perished. Leaving only me, about to start college, with a massive debt. The tuition I worked so hard to save, along with the house Aaron and Dianna left behind, were all taken by creditors. Helpless, I was forced to work in a factory. Working 16 hours a day, living in a rundown dorm with 10 people, eating the simplest and cheapest meals, living like a machine. I finally paid off the debt, only to accidentally see on TV that Kate, who was supposed to be dead, had become a famous dancer, and Aaron and Dianna even shared their thoughts. It turned out they took out a huge loan, faked their deaths, and ran off to Paris with Kate to pursue her dance dreams, leaving all the debt to me, who was just about to start college. I went to confront them, but was thrown out and got hit by a speeding truck, dying on the roadside. Before my consciousness faded, I heard Aaron curse, “Eve is so annoying, can’t even die somewhere far away.” When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day they faked their deaths. ***** My grandmother Daisy Collins’s sharp wailing slightly cleared my dazed mind. The excruciating pain of being crushed into pulp by the truck still spread throughout my body. I looked up and saw three bodies covered with white cloth neatly arranged in the mourning hall before me. Daisy sobbed uncontrollably beside me, “Oh, how did my son die so young?” I almost burst out laughing, thinking, “Dead? These three people are perfectly alive.” “Mom, don’t be too sad. Let them rest in peace soon.” My aunt Tessa Collins glanced at me and gently comforted Daisy. Tessa is a doctor, and the death certificates for Aaron, Dianna, and Kate were all issued by her. At this time in my previous life, I was heartbroken and only took a quick glance at the bodies; everything else was handled by Tessa. The next day, I received three urns and a massive debt. I watched them coldly as they acted. Clearly, those three weren’t dead, yet they put on a show of deep sorrow in front of me. The death certificates were issued by Tessa, so she must have known about Aaron and Dianna’s plan, yet she said nothing to me. In my previous life, when the creditors came knocking, I asked her for help, begging her to lend me some money first so I could finish my studies and pay it back gradually. The first time I came to her, she refused me. The second time I went to her, I found out she had applied to study further in Germany. Daisy was getting old, so all the debts ended up falling solely on me. I finally got into New York University, but I had to drop out because of overwhelming debt. To pay off the debt, I worked several jobs a day, but the creditors still thought I was too slow. In the end, they sent me to an illegal factory. I worked 16 hours a day, earning about $10,000 a month, but I only received $500, with the rest directly deducted for debt repayment. I lived frugally, ate vegetarian meals every day, and finally managed to pay off the debt. But I never expected that this was all a scam targeting me. Aaron and Dianna were never dead. They borrowed a huge amount of money and took Kate abroad for her dance training, leaving the massive debt to me. They exploited me to turn Kate into a glamorous dance star. I was nothing but a blood bag, drained of every drop to sustain their family’s glamour and dreams. This time, right under my nose, I want to see how they fake their deaths and escape. All the relatives and friends around were comforting Daisy and Tessa, but no one cared about me. It wasn’t until Tessa pushed me, causing me to fall to my knees, that others finally turned their attention to me. But they weren’t concerned about me; instead, they cursed me, “You jinx! Why wasn’t it you who died?” Maybe my expressionless face angered Daisy. She struck my back with her cane. Her force was so strong that it woke me up instantly. A relative tried to stop her, “Hey, don’t hit her, she’s just a child.” Daisy just glared at me and cursed, “Maybe she’s the one who jinxed her parents and sister to death. She’s been gloomy and unlikable since she was little. Now her parents are dead, and she doesn’t even shed a tear.” Facing the strange looks and whispers from everyone, I couldn’t be bothered to argue. I just got up, walked forward, and while they weren’t paying attention, yanked off the white cloth. Before Daisy could start cursing, I had already thrown myself onto Kate, punching her hard in the chest. I said, “You’re lying! I don’t believe it! My parents and sister are perfectly fine, they’re not dead, and you can’t curse them like this.” I deliberately messed up my hair, pretending to be deeply shocked, while my hand kept pounding on Kate’s chest. I kept pounding and shouting, “Kate! Kate, don’t sleep, wake up quickly, don’t scare me.” Every punch I threw was with full force, and to outsiders, it looked like I was heartbroken, trying to perform CPR on Kate. But Kate lying there probably didn’t feel so good. Getting hit several times and still having to pretend she felt nothing must have been tough for her. Daisy and Tessa’s faces changed drastically, and they hurriedly stepped forward to pull me back. “Stop messing with Kate.” If you’re acting, you have to take it to the extreme. I suddenly broke free from them, rushed toward Aaron and Dianna, and as usual, swung my fist hard, pounding their chests. I pounded as I cried out, “I don’t believe it! They can’t be dead. I’ll do CPR on them, they can definitely come back to life.” Daisy and Tessa couldn’t stop me and started cursing loudly on the side. A group of relatives swarmed in, trying to restrain me. I figured I’d gone crazy enough, so I quieted down and let them pull me to a chair nearby to sit. Then, I squeezed out a few perfectly timed tears. I cried and said, “I don’t believe it. Just a couple of days ago, my parents took Kate out to have fun and told me to earn my own tuition. How could they suddenly be dead?” “Aunt Tessa, you issued the death certificate. Are you sure you checked everything? Are they really dead?” I stared intently at Tessa, and everyone’s gaze instantly fell on her. A drop of cold sweat rolled down her forehead. She forced herself to stay calm and raised her voice, “Of course it’s true! I’ve been a doctor for so many years, how could I mess up a death certificate? The ones lying here are my family. Would I harm them? Are you out of your mind?” While Tessa was explaining to everyone, I glanced out of the corner of my eye at the three people lying over there. I trust my strength; I’ve been doing all the heavy work at home since I was a kid. With those punches, even if their ribs aren’t broken, they’re bound to bruise. It’s impressive they can still endure it, staying completely still. Especially Kate, she’s been pampered since childhood. Normally, if I accidentally bump into her, she’d run to Aaron and Dianna to complain, then come back to beat me up. I really want to see how long they can hold out. Daisy glared at me fiercely. “Eve, how much longer are you going to keep this up?” “Do you have to turn the house upside down? Your parents worried themselves sick over you when they were alive, and now that they’re gone, do you want them to be restless even in death?” Maybe she didn’t even realize it herself, but when she mentioned “passed away,” her gaze wavered for a moment. I ignored her and just glanced around at everyone. Daisy and Tessa know they faked their deaths; all that grief is just an act. The others are only here to pay their respects because of some distant family ties. It’s ridiculous—this fake funeral doesn’t have a single person truly grieving. I suddenly realized that Dianna’s parents, Julius Wallace and Clara Wallace, didn’t show up. They live in the countryside, far from here. In my past life, after Aaron and Dianna faked their deaths, I worked nonstop every day to pay off debts, leaving no time for anything else. Looking back now, it’s strange that Julius and Clara didn’t send any news or even contact me at all. When I was a child, I was raised by Julius and Clara, so I wasn’t very close to Aaron and Dianna. It wasn’t until Kate was born and I had to go to school that I started living with them. In other words, Julius and Clara might not have known and were somehow deceived by Dianna’s words, so they didn’t think to contact me. Thinking of this, I blurted out, “Such a big thing, why didn’t my mom’s family come? Didn’t anyone tell them the news? I’ll call them right now.” I took out my phone to make a call, and out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Dianna’s fingers seemed to move slightly. Tessa came over and pressed down on my phone, looking a bit nervous. “Eve, don’t tell them yet. They’re old and not in good health. I’m afraid they won’t be able to handle it. Let’s talk about it later.” “The most important thing now is to cremate their three bodies first. The weather is so hot, the bodies won’t last a few days before they start to rot.” “I’ve already arranged everything, no need for you to worry.” “How could that be, Aunt Tessa?” I wiped away my tears and looked at her with a mix of fragility and determination. “No matter what, they’re my family. Now that this has happened, how can I not do my part?” “I just made a call and contacted the best crematorium in the city. They’ll be here within five minutes.” “I’ll just take these three bodies there directly later, no need to trouble you.” Tessa got anxious. “Why didn’t you discuss this with me before deciding? Cancel it immediately.” I looked up, my eyes showing some confusion. “But didn’t you say it’s hot and the bodies need to be handled quickly? They’ll be here in 5 minutes, it’s fast.” Tessa said, “Oh, that’s not what I meant!”

Under everyone’s gaze, Tessa couldn’t find a suitable reason to respond to me and became flustered. They had already planned it, hiring people to pose as crematorium staff, pretending to take Aaron, Dianna, and Kate for cremation, but actually using the chance to send them to the airport. But my interference directly messed up their plan. Tessa and Daisy turned red with anxiety. They couldn’t just stand by and watch the crematorium staff carry three living people off to be burned, could they? Seeing them flushed and unable to say much, I was laughing like crazy inside, but outwardly I still maintained a mature and composed demeanor. I said, “Aunt Tessa, don’t worry, I’m not a child anymore. I know what to do.” The relatives nodded in agreement upon hearing this. “Eve has really grown up, so sensible and considerate, knowing how to ease the family’s worries.” “Sigh, poor child, just about to go to college, and something like this happens at home.” “How will she get through her days in the future?” They spoke so sincerely, as if they had forgotten their indifferent attitude earlier when Daisy was scolding me. In the end, it was Daisy who firmly made the decision. “Send them to the crematorium tomorrow! Let them stay at home for one more day. I only have two children, and my only son is gone like this. If you burn them right away, I’ll be heartbroken to death.” “Let them stay at home for one more night, just to keep me company.” Since Daisy put it this way, I naturally couldn’t insist further. I said, “Since you feel this way, fine, I’ll have them send over a few ice coffins first.” I glanced at the scorching weather outside and frowned, “It’s summer now, so hot outside. If the bodies are left overnight, they’ll definitely rot and stink by morning. My parents loved cleanliness the most when they were alive; how can they be treated so carelessly after death?” What I said made sense, even Daisy couldn’t argue back and just gave me a fierce glare. When the ice coffins arrived, I called a few relatives to help place all three people inside and turned on the low-temperature switch. I silently lowered the air conditioner temperature a bit more. Let them stay frozen for a while. Everyone was outside, so I took the chance to sneak into Aaron and Dianna’s room and rummage around. Finally, I found something. It was the organ donation consent form signed by Aaron and Dianna. I called the hospital using the number on it, asked them to come over, and contacted a few media outlets. Actually, Aaron and Dianna weren’t that noble and never intended to sign any organ donation consent form. It was just that once Kate felt her double eyelids weren’t deep enough and wanted to get them done. It just so happened the hospital had a promotion: sign an organ donation consent form, and you get 50% off double eyelid surgery. If I hadn’t just seen Kate’s exaggerated double eyelids outside, I wouldn’t have remembered this. In less than 10 minutes, the hospital staff and media arrived, packing the living room completely. Coincidentally, the person from the hospital was Tessa’s boss, the hospital director Henry Foster. As soon as Tessa saw him, she looked a bit flustered and asked with a flattering smile, “Dr. Foster, what brings you here?” Henry said, “Tessa, is the deceased your relative?” “They’re my brother and his wife.” She paused, trying to stay calm, “Is there a problem, Dr. Foster?” “I heard the news about your family’s passing, my condolences,” Henry offered some comfort before getting to the point. “Here’s the thing, they had signed an organ donation consent form during their lifetime, agreeing to donate their organs to the hospital after their death.” As soon as Daisy heard about organ donation, she immediately stepped forward to stop it. She said, “Who gave you permission to touch my son’s body? He’s already gone, and now you want to take his organs? Do you want him to rest in peace or not?” “I’m telling you, I absolutely do not agree with this.” It’s normal for the deceased’s family to react this way, and many of the elderly present also showed disapproving looks. “Exactly, even after death, they still have to endure this.” “Such disrespect to the deceased.” The crowd was buzzing with discussion, and Tessa pretended to look a bit troubled. She said, “Dr. Foster, I’m sorry, our family really didn’t know about this. How about we just forget it?” Henry took out a copy and handed it to her. “You can take a look. As a part of the hospital, you should understand this. The dead can’t come back to life, but his organs can save more people.” Tessa took the document, and it clearly showed Aaron and Dianna’s signatures, fingerprints, and the hospital’s official seal. She tugged at the corner of her mouth and said, “But we, the family, really can’t accept this. How about we just let it go?” Henry waved his hand. “It’s quite a coincidence. You know the billionaire Bruce Sterling, right? His son has heart failure and is hospitalized in our hospital. Bruce has been looking for a suitable heart for a transplant, but he hasn’t found one yet.” “The database shows that your brother’s heart is a perfect match. When he was still alive, we didn’t bring this up.” “It’s quite a coincidence. Your brother just passed away, and Bruce got the news immediately, urging us to act. Plus, he’s willing to offer ten million dollars as compensation to the deceased’s family.” That’s ten million dollars! All the relatives present were stunned by that number. “An average person couldn’t earn ten million dollars in a lifetime.” “This billionaire is being way too generous.” The crowd, who had just been talking about refusing organ donation, fell silent now.

That’s ten million dollars. An average person couldn’t make that in a lifetime. At first, everyone looked at me with pity, thinking I was about to become an orphan and wondering how I would manage my life afterward. Now everyone’s eyes are filled with jealousy and greed. For an orphan like me, suddenly holding ten million dollars is like carrying a piece of fresh meat into a pack of wolves. Everyone’s probably scheming how to get money out of me. I know exactly what these people are thinking. I rubbed my eyes, making them look swollen and bloodshot, as if I had just been crying. I took two steps forward and said to Henry, “Since my dad’s heart can save someone, then go ahead and take it. He loved doing good deeds when he was alive, always donating money. If he knew he could save someone, he’d definitely be very happy.” I then said to all the relatives, “You are all my elders, and this matter has troubled you a lot. After my parents and sister are buried, I’ll take out $1 million from the money given by the tycoon to cover grandma’s retirement and my college expenses.” “The remaining money, I will divide equally among everyone as a token of gratitude for your hard work.” There were only a dozen or so relatives present, and splitting it evenly, each could get seven to eight hundred thousand dollars. This is practically a windfall. Everyone looked at each other, and after a moment, someone finally stepped forward and said, “Since you’ve said so, we won’t hold back.” “Now we need to take the bodies to the hospital for organ retrieval, right? Everyone, lend a hand and help carry them up!” The relatives helped lift the person along with the coffin onto the vehicle. Nearby media reporters recorded the entire process, broadcasting the scene live. Netizens also started buzzing with discussions. [Oh my god, a single heart is worth ten million dollars? I’ve never seen that much money in my life!] [Bruce is the richest man. His assets exceed billions of dollars, so this amount is nothing to him.] [I initially thought she was quite pitiful, losing her parents and sister, leaving her all alone. I didn’t expect the plot twist to come so quickly.] [And she’s not greedy either. Her grandma is so old, and she still has to go to school. She only took a million dollars and gave the rest to her relatives. No matter what, for the sake of the money, these relatives should help them out with things now and then.] [She’s pretty smart.] Daisy and Tessa stood aside, completely stunned. Daisy anxiously pushed Tessa. “Go stop them! You can’t really let them take your brother’s heart!” Tessa watched the busy crowd in front of her, but she had her own plans in mind. She had originally agreed to help Aaron get a fake death certificate and secretly send them abroad. Aaron promised her $200,000, enough for her to study in Germany. If Aaron’s heart was really taken, as his sister, she should be able to get nearly a million dollars. This was much more cost-effective than $200,000. Having made up her mind, she let out a cold smile and reassured Daisy, “Mom, there are so many people here now, and cameras are recording. Rushing in to stop them will only cause trouble. Let them take him to the hospital first. Once we’re there, I’ll figure out a way to help Aaron escape.” Daisy was extremely anxious, but hearing this, she could only nod reluctantly. “You must hurry to the hospital and stay with him! Make sure nothing really happens to him!” Tessa said, “Don’t worry, Mom.” After sending Aaron to the hospital, Daisy initially wanted to persuade the relatives to go home and rest. After all, there were still two living people lying in the ice coffin, and they definitely wouldn’t be able to endure it. But the relatives were unwilling to leave, insisting on staying. “We didn’t do much, but took so much money, we really feel bad about it. Let us stay a bit longer, at least to show some care.” “Exactly, we didn’t do much but took so much money, it feels uneasy. You go rest first, we’ll take care of things here.” The group half-persuaded and half-forced Daisy back to her room, then grabbed a few stools, sat down, and started chatting. “Everyone, have some coffee. Thanks for your hard work tonight.” I brewed a pot of coffee and poured a cup for everyone present to help them stay alert. After all, in the middle of the night, you never know if something might suddenly pop out. I glanced at the two people in the ice coffin and smiled subtly. The internet is flooded with news about the richest man spending ten million dollars for his son’s heart transplant. I’m really curious about what Tessa can do to make my dad leave. Chatting made time fly. At dawn, the crematorium sent a vehicle to pick up the bodies. Relatives got up one after another to help, lifting Dianna and Kate onto the vehicle. Daisy wanted to stop them but didn’t know what to say. Tessa wasn’t by her side at the moment, so no matter how anxious she was, she could only watch as Dianna and Kate were sent into the cremation furnace. “Can’t cremate, can’t cremate,” she muttered incessantly, her eyes fixed on the cremation furnace. “Grandma, what are you saying?” I turned my head to look. “This is the highest standard I specially arranged—one person per furnace, clean and dignified. After it’s done, we can even go in and pick out the ashes ourselves.” “When my dad’s surgery is over, it’ll be the same process.” “Can’t cremate!” Her voice was small, only I could hear it. “They’re not even dead yet!” I didn’t respond, just smiled faintly. I thought, “Facing death already, and they still won’t get up?” At that moment, the crematorium staff ran out screaming. Closely following behind the staff were Dianna and Kate. Their faces were smudged with ash, hair slightly messy, looking both disheveled and comical. The relatives who followed instinctively wanted to run but abruptly stopped, probably thinking about those hundreds of thousands of dollars. A bold relative stepped forward and asked, “What on earth is going on? Are they dead or not?” “Of course, I’m not dead!” Kate couldn’t hold back and shouted first, “You just stood there watching us being sent for cremation?” Someone tentatively picked up a small stone and threw it, hitting Dianna’s shoulder. Only after hearing a cry of pain did they feel relieved. “It hurts! She’s really alive!” “This is coming back to life!”

Drunk at a company dinner, I accidentally called my boss ‘hubby’. My colleagues chuckled: “Looks like she’s absolutely desperate to land the boss.” Adolph Scott, my boss, glared at me, his face cold. “Can’t even control your mouth, why are you drinking?” A brief, stunned silence hung in the air. Then, Archer Kingston, the notoriously hard-to-deal-with Project CEO, let out a cold laugh from across the table. “She was calling *me*. What are you getting so worked up about?” I’d chased Adolph Scott from our college days straight into his company, taking on an assistant role just to be near him. Everyone knew I was head-over-heels for him. One day, as I went to deliver some documents, I overheard voices from inside his office, teasing him. “Aurora Jenkins, a girl from *her* family, reducing herself to being your assistant? You actually let her?” Adolph scoffed. “She insisted on coming. What could I do?” The others laughed. “True. She’s always been stuck to you.” “Hasn’t changed in years.” “But Adolph, are you really not going to get serious with Rory?” “She literally dreams of being with you.” “Last time her family set her up on a blind date, you called us out for drinks late at night. I actually thought you cared about her then.” The words had barely left his lips. Adolph suddenly got angry, his voice dropping, icy cold. “She’s just a nuisance. Why would I care?” Outside the door, my hand, poised to knock, slowly dropped. I simply gripped the doorknob and pushed the door open. The people inside froze at my unexpected entrance. But only for a second. Soon, they were all smiling again, acting like nothing happened. “Rory, here to bring Adolph breakfast again?” It was my daily breakfast delivery, without fail. Adolph didn’t even lift his head, as if he’d anticipated my every move. He merely tilted his chin vaguely in my direction. “Just put it on the table.” But I shook my head. I placed the documents and my resignation letter on his desk. “Not breakfast.” “My resignation. For your review, Mr. Scott.” Everyone stared, stunned. They practically swarmed the desk, craning their necks to read the words on the letter, then asked in disbelief: “No way, Rory, are you serious?” Adolph finally frowned and looked up. He stared at me. “What’s this all about?” I pushed the resignation letter closer to him. “I’m quitting.” “I also sent an electronic copy to your email. Don’t forget to check it.” Adolph glanced at the letter on the table, asking impatiently, “Is this because I made you work late yesterday?” I shook my head. “No.” “I just don’t want to do this anymore.” Adolph’s face finally hardened, little by little. As I turned to leave, he called out to me. “Rory.” “If you leave now, there’ll be no coming back to me.” It sounded like a threat, yet also a warning. I didn’t look back. “Couldn’t be happier.” The atmosphere in the room instantly dropped to freezing point. As I pushed the door open and left, I heard cautious, probing voices behind me. “Adolph, she’s just having a diva moment, don’t take it to heart…” “Yeah, you know how much she likes you, right?” “She’ll probably regret it by this afternoon, and come begging to return…” Adolph stared fixedly at the closed door, letting out a cold scoff. “Like I care.”

I threw away all the useless things from my office. In the end, I found I had nothing left to take. Looking at the empty cubicle, I almost wanted to laugh. My mind drifted back to the anonymous video I’d received last night while working late at the office. In a private room, Adolph had his arm around a stunning beauty, listening indifferently to the chatter around him. “Rory is still dutifully doing grunt work at Adolph’s company, huh?” “You’ve got to admit, Adolph’s got skills. That heiress hasn’t shown up to any of our parties in ages.” It was true. Chasing Adolph for years, a privileged heiress like me, I’d practically become his indentured servant. All he had to do was ask, and I’d willingly work late, attend his business dinners, until I was exhausted and sick. In the end, all I got was a jest from his friends. “Looking at it this way, Rory really is like Adolph’s most obedient dog.” He stood by, swirling his drink, not denying it. He even scoffed. “What are you talking about? She’s just *a* dog by my side, not ‘the most’ obedient one!” The room erupted in laughter. In that moment, it felt like a bucket of ice water had been dumped over my head. So cold. But it was also like I’d instantly woken up. After a moment’s thought, I quietly pulled out my phone and scrolled through my contacts to find the new guy my family had set me up with recently. I’d heard he was a genuinely wonderful person. But before, my mind was entirely consumed by Adolph, so I kept postponing the meeting and even thought about sabotaging it. Now… It seemed a little unethical, perhaps. But as everyone knows, the best way to get over an ex is to start something new. I tapped the screen. **[Want to meet tomorrow?]** To my surprise, he replied almost instantly. **[Sure.]** He was very gentlemanly. He offered to let me choose the time and he’d arrange the location. But when my parents had mentioned the meeting before, I hadn’t listened to a single word. So now, I knew absolutely nothing about this man. Arriving early at our meeting spot, I hesitated outside the door. What if I didn’t recognize him later? That would be so awkward. As I paced back and forth, I accidentally bumped into someone. I looked up. My gaze met a perfectly tailored, sharp suit. Above that, a face with astonishingly refined features. And the owner of that face was looking at me with a gentle expression. “Why aren’t you going in?” His seemingly perfectly kissable thin lips moved as he spoke… I subconsciously swallowed. Then quickly realized my lapse in composure. Because I knew this man. Archer Kingston. A well-known powerhouse in the industry. I’d seen his name countless times on Adolph’s company’s target partner list. But rumor had it he was ruthless, cold-hearted, and incredibly difficult to approach. Collaborations with him had never succeeded. I quickly stepped back, making way for him. “Oh, sorry, so sorry. I’m waiting for someone, I was a bit distracted, my apologies, please go ahead—” But the man in front of me let out a soft laugh. “Ms. Jenkins.” I looked up, surprised. How did he know my last name? His eyes held a hint of a smile. “Is there a chance the person you’re waiting for… is me?”

I was stunned. My family had only said they were setting me up with a truly great guy. But I never would have imagined it would be someone of Archer Kingston’s caliber. It wasn’t until I was sitting face-to-face with Archer in the private dining room he’d arranged that I kept my composure, smiling politely. Under the table, I was frantically texting my mom. **[You set me up with Archer Kingston?!]** **[Is our family wealthy enough to marry into his now?!]** **[Did you guys get rich behind my back?!]** My mom instantly replied with question marks. **[???]** **[What are you talking about, honey? Daydreaming already?]** **[We set you up with one of Archer Kingston’s distant nephews.]** **[Your aunt probably didn’t explain it clearly, did she?]** I glanced at the man across from me, who was smiling as he watched me. Surely there can’t be two faces this handsome? As our eyes met, I couldn’t pretend to be busy anymore. I stammered, “Um…” “Are you… Mr. Archer Kingston, right?” He nodded, then offered an apologetic smile. “Yes.” “My fault, I haven’t introduced myself yet.” “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Jenkins. I’m Archer Kingston, and I’m your date for today.” A concise introduction. But it was completely different from the information my mom had given me. My mind was reeling. “But, my blind date… wasn’t supposed to be…” Archer raised an eyebrow. He picked up the teacup on the table and took a light sip. “That kid isn’t good enough for you.” “So I came instead.” He looked up at me. “Is something wrong?” “Does Ms. Jenkins prefer him?” I froze. The way he said that… it was like we were old friends. My heart began to pound. Archer, however, remained completely composed, his calm, deep eyes fixed on me, clearly expecting an answer. I forced myself to speak. “Of course not… I don’t even know him.” He chuckled softly. “Then it’s okay for me to stand in for him, right?” I swallowed. “No… it’s fine.”

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I deliberately crashed into the neighbor’s car. Grabbing my half-empty beer, I stormed out, ready to unleash hell. “Are you out of your damn mind? Do you have any idea how expensive my car is? Can you even afford to pay for the damage?” Ms. Henderson, the neighbor, was so furious she reached for her phone to call the police. I sneered, “Go ahead, call them! Who cares? I’ll be right here waiting!” The only reason I was acting like such a complete lunatic was because I had been reborn. In my last life, my fiancé, Blake Anderson, and his sister, Brooke, took my car for a joyride late one night. They hit and killed a cleaner, then framed me for it, making me take the fall. I was sent to prison for ten years. My mother, unable to bear the shock and grief, suffered a brain hemorrhage and passed away. Even after my release, Blake wouldn’t let me go. He used a mountain of debt to drive me to suicide. When I opened my eyes again, I was back—exactly 24 hours before the accident. 1 I stood at the entrance of the parking garage, intentionally parking my car way over the line. “Bang!” Ms. Henderson, the neighbor, backing into her spot, drove straight into my car’s rear bumper. I immediately grabbed my half-drunk beer and swaggered over, cursing under my breath. “Seriously, are you blind? You just totaled my car. Do you even have enough money to cover this?” She caught a whiff of the alcohol on me and immediately blew up. “Are you crazy? Drunk driving and you’re still this arrogant?” I leaned against my car door, taking a slow sip of beer right in front of her. “So go ahead and call the cops, then! Have them arrest me! I’m right here waiting. Do you dare?” She was beyond furious. She immediately pulled out her phone to dial 91

“Hello, 911? There’s a lunatic here, drunk driving. Yes, Maplewood Estates…” After hanging up, she glared at me. “You just wait. You’ll be crying later, I promise.” But I just smiled. This was exactly what I wanted. Soon, two police officers, body cameras rolling, walked towards us. “What’s going on here?” I immediately went to meet them, raising my hands, a barely suppressed grin on my face. “It’s me! I was drunk driving! Arrest me!” My reaction stunned everyone present. Ms. Henderson quickly interjected. “Yes! She was just like this! Completely out of control! People like her need to be severely punished!” Officer Davis, the lead officer, frowned, then pulled out a breathalyzer. “Please blow into this.” I cooperated, taking a big breath and blowing. The device immediately let out a shrill alarm. “Drunk driving,” Officer Davis said, his frown deepening. “You’re currently suspected of reckless driving. Please show me your driver’s license and vehicle registration. You’ll need to come back to the precinct with us for further investigation.” I immediately handed over the documents I’d already prepared, without the slightest hesitation. “Is this girl out of her mind? She looks like she just won the lottery, she’s so happy.” A younger officer mumbled beside him. I was escorted into the patrol car. Through the window, I saw several neighbors in the complex curiously peering out. But I remained perfectly calm. This was exactly what I wanted. The more eyewitnesses, the better. At the interrogation room, my cooperation was surprisingly thorough. “Officer, I drank two beers and a bottle of red wine just now. I definitely qualify for reckless driving.” Officer Garcia, the female officer recording my statement, was completely dumbfounded. She’d never seen a suspect so eager to be detained. “Barbara Saunders, do you know the consequences of drunk driving?” she asked, her expression serious. I nodded. “A thousand-dollar fine, and detention.” 2 Officer Garcia stared, momentarily speechless. “You know that and you still did it?” I managed to squeeze out a few tears at just the right moment. “Yes, I truly know I messed up.” She sighed, then continued to ask for more details. I answered each question, making sure every word was recorded. When the questioning ended, she didn’t leave immediately, instead watching me thoughtfully. “You don’t really seem like the type to drunk drive,” she suddenly said. My heart skipped a beat. I forced myself to stay calm. “People… sometimes make mistakes.” She nodded, seeming about to say something. Just then, hurried footsteps echoed from the doorway. “Barbara Saunders!” Mom and my childhood best friend, Noah Miller, burst through the doors, their faces etched with worry. “How did you guys know?” My words had barely left my lips when Mom rushed over and hugged me tightly. “Barbara, are you okay?” Feeling the real warmth of her embrace, my eyes welled up. It was so good. In this life, Mom was still alive. “Barbara, tell me the truth. How could you make such a mistake?” Noah frowned, looking at me. He couldn’t fathom how someone as cautious and law-abiding as me could commit reckless driving. Officer Garcia frowned, adding, “The breathalyzer results clearly show Ms. Saunders was indeed driving under the influence.” Noah looked at her. “Hello, I’m her lawyer…” But before he could finish, I cut him off coldly. “No. I don’t need a lawyer.” Mom’s eyes immediately reddened. She grabbed my hand, her voice thick with tears. “Barbara, what are you saying? Noah’s here to help you. Let’s just get you bailed out first, we can talk about the rest later.” Looking at them, I fought hard against the urge to tell them everything. In my last life, I was framed by my fiancé’s family, leaving me no way to defend myself. Mom ran around, begging for help for me, eventually falling ill from the stress and grief. Noah, in his desperation to find evidence for me, used extreme measures, ultimately losing his law license. This time, I wouldn’t let Mom die from a brain hemorrhage because of me. And I wouldn’t let Noah sacrifice his incredibly promising career for me. So, I had to stay here. Only by doing this could I protect everyone. “Mom, Noah, don’t interfere this time. Let me handle it myself. This is how I can truly grow up.” Then I told the police, “I plead guilty. Please detain me.” I also refused any further visits. At 10 PM, the blood test results came back. Conclusive evidence of drunk driving. “According to the law, we will be taking criminal detention measures against you.” I nodded. “Yes, I accept the penalty.” Signing, fingerprinting, photos – once the whole process was done, I was led to the holding cell. The moment the iron door clanged shut behind me, I let out a long, shaky breath. Phase one of the plan: complete. I was the only one in the holding cell. I curled up in a corner, beginning to think about my next step. Under the law, drunk driving detention is a maximum of 24 hours, after which bail can be requested. I looked up at the clock on the wall. 7:45 PM. In my last life, just an hour from now, my fiancé’s sister had secretly taken my car, sped recklessly, and hit and killed a cleaner. After the incident, my fiancé had Brooke change into my clothes, and since the car was mine, he bribed the only other cleaner on site. They both swore I was the one driving. I was helpless to defend myself and was unjustly imprisoned for ten years. But now, at the exact time of the accident, I was safely locked up in a police holding cell. 2 The memory of Blake, his fingers digging into my chin in my previous life, sneering, “No alibi means you’re dead in the water,” made me want to laugh right now. Now, with the police report, the interrogation room surveillance, and the blood test results, the entire justice system would be my alibi. Who could possibly question it? Time ticked by, second by second. I would doze off, then stare at the clock on the wall. 8:43 AM. My heart pounded. The time had come! Suddenly, I heard a commotion outside, followed by hurried footsteps. Had the accident happened? Had they found my car? Sure enough, at 6 AM, Officer Davis appeared at the holding cell, his expression grave. “Barbara Saunders,” he said, his tone unusually serious, “Last night, there was a hit-and-run on Riverfront Road. A cleaner was killed on impact. The vehicle involved was your white BMW 520, license plate number 520 XYZ.” I widened my eyes, feigning shock and confusion. “What? No way! My car has been parked in the complex garage the whole time!” Mom, who had been anxiously waiting outside the door, rushed in when she heard this. “Barbara! What’s going on? Is this why you wouldn’t let me see you? Because you hit and killed someone?” I frowned, about to explain. Just then, the door pushed open. My fiancé, Blake Anderson, appeared with his sister, Brooke, and a thin, dark-skinned old man. “Barbara Saunders! You hit someone last night, did you know that? You fled the scene! Do you have any conscience?!” My eyes widened in surprise, and even Officer Davis beside me looked stunned. I had been at the police station since yesterday afternoon. How could they still try to pin this on me? I spoke coldly. “I was here yesterday because of drunk driving, so…” Brooke shrieked when she heard this. “Aha! So you *were* drunk driving! No wonder you ran away after hitting someone and killing them!” Mom panicked. “Don’t talk nonsense! My daughter would never do such a thing!” “Why not? We have a witness right here! Are you still going to defend her? No wonder you raised her to be so lawless!” My face turned ashen with rage. “Brooke, you can talk about me, but how dare you talk about my mom? And where is this ‘witness’ of yours?” Brooke scoffed dismissively. “Looks like you won’t admit your crime until the very last moment.” No sooner had she spoken than the thin, dark-skinned old man beside her suddenly lunged at me. “Aha! You killed my wife, and you’re still so arrogant! Are cleaners’ lives not lives too?” More and more onlookers gathered, whipped into a frenzy by Brooke and the old man’s words. “I can’t believe such a young woman could be so vicious!” “Exactly! And she even dares to lie to the police!” “They should lock her up and execute her directly!” Hearing this, Mom’s body swayed. She collapsed to the ground. She cried, explaining to everyone, “My daughter wouldn’t do something like this! Don’t spread rumors!” My heart ached. I wanted to rush forward but was blocked by a group of people behind me. Many took advantage of the chaos, hitting and cursing me. I took several punches, my arms bruised and purple. “Barbara! Barbara!” Mom ran to save me, taking several blows to her back as well. Seeing the situation quickly deteriorating, Officer Davis quickly stepped forward to help, pulling us behind him. “I drove home yesterday at 6:30 PM and haven’t moved my car since!” I shouted frantically. “There’s surveillance footage in the garage that can prove it!” Blake’s face immediately changed, but he quickly put on a devastated, heartbroken act. 3 “Barbara, don’t try to deny it. If you made a mistake, you need to own up to it. Don’t worry, I’ll hire the best lawyer for you.” Before I could speak, he turned to Officer Davis. “Officer, rest assured, as her family, we’re deeply saddened, but we absolutely will not cover for her!” At that, I scoffed, a cold smile playing on my lips. “Deeply saddened.” “Absolutely will not cover for her.” What a joke. In my last life, to celebrate his sister getting her driver’s license, Blake secretly took my brand-new car, which I’d owned for less than two weeks. Later, Brooke, due to reckless driving, hit a cleaner on the road, killing them instantly. To escape responsibility, Blake immediately told her to get out of the car, then found my forgotten jacket in the back seat and threw it onto the driver’s seat. He also bribed the only eyewitness at the scene, another cleaner, paying him a large sum of money to keep quiet. In court, I was cornered by their so-called evidence, unable to defend myself, no matter how much I explained, no one believed me. I was unjustly imprisoned for ten years. Mom sold our family property and ran around, begging for help to save me. But in the end, unable to find assistance, she fell ill from stress and grief and soon died suddenly from a brain hemorrhage. My childhood friend, Noah, trying to find evidence for me, even resorted to “threatening” and “pressuring” that old cleaner. But ultimately, he was accused of “coercing” a witness, had his license revoked, and was banned from practicing law for life. After my release from prison, I mysteriously found myself buried under hundreds of millions in debt, eventually unable to bear the burden, and I jumped to my death. Thinking of all this, I wished I could just kill them right then and there! This time, I wouldn’t let them frame me so easily! Officer Davis frowned, looking at Blake, and said coldly, “Ms. Saunders has been under investigation at our precinct since last night. You claim she hit someone with her car. Do you have any evidence?” Without a moment’s hesitation, Blake immediately pulled out the “evidence” he had prepared beforehand from his bag. “Officer, we found my fiancée’s driver’s license at the scene of the accident.” He was completely immersed in the excitement of his own cleverness, not noticing Officer Davis’s expression change slightly. “You’re saying she drove and killed someone last night, and then left her driver’s license at the scene?” Though Blake was puzzled why he kept confirming, he still nodded. “Yes, this driver’s license is hers. If you don’t believe me, check again.” Hearing this, I couldn’t hold back anymore. I burst out laughing. “Blake Anderson, Blake Anderson, have you ever heard the saying, ‘He who digs a pit for others falls into it himself’?” He looked up at me, anger flaring in his eyes, but he dared not show too much in front of the police. “Barbara, I know you’re scared right now, but don’t talk nonsense. Just be honest with the police and try to get a lenient sentence.” “Exactly, Barbara! You already admitted to drunk driving, which means you drank too much then and don’t even remember the crime you committed.” I raised an eyebrow, finding it amusing how eagerly they were trying to pin the crime on me. After witnessing the entire farce, Officer Davis could no longer hold back. “Yesterday afternoon, when we responded to the call, we confiscated Ms. Saunders’ driver’s license and vehicle registration.” “Furthermore, after her statement was taken last night, Ms. Saunders’ mother and her lawyer friend also came, but they didn’t take her out either.” “Which means she has been under my direct observation from yesterday afternoon until now. How could she possibly commit a hit-and-run?” At his words, the entire room fell silent. Blake never imagined things would turn out this way. He stared at me in disbelief. “How… how could this be?” I looked up, watching him calmly, and then suddenly smiled.

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It was the fifth year since my own brother sent me to kidnappers, and I finally escaped, barely clinging to life. Dizzy with hunger, I spotted a discarded cake on the roadside and crammed it into my mouth. My mouth was still full when a heavy kick sent me sprawling to the ground. “Stella! Are you deliberately showing up on Isabella’s birthday to provoke her again?” My eyes met his, and I realized it was Albert, the billionaire brother who had just thrown a multi-million dollar birthday bash for the girl everyone thought was his real sister. He sneered, his gaze cutting through my miserable face. “Now you know how hard life outside is, huh? You totally deserve this!” “You still have one more month left of your five-year term. Then I’ll bring you home and give you the best life.” “But only if you promise not to hurt Isabella ever again!” I rubbed my eyes hard, but no matter what, I couldn’t make out Albert’s face. Suddenly, I chuckled. Maybe he was always just a blur in my mind, except for the pain he inflicted. “No… never again,” I whispered. He wouldn’t have to worry about his beloved sister being bullied anymore. And I wouldn’t be coming home with him. After all, with late-stage brain cancer, even one more month of life felt like a luxury.

I choked down the stale cake, the bitterness matching my own. I knew he didn’t want to see me, so I wisely pushed myself up, my leg throbbing, desperate to get out of his sight. But the cancer in my brain had spread to my eyes, and I could barely see the path ahead. I hunched over, my hands reaching out, fumbling my way forward, slowly. Then I heard it—a few harsh laughs. It was Albert’s friends. “Oh, look at her, playing the crippled beggar card to make Albert pity her and take her home early.” “She’s really going all out, isn’t she? No shame, especially in public like this!” “Seriously, Albert’s a billionaire. She’s totally embarrassing him.” Albert’s face went dark with anger, his pride clearly wounded. He growled, barely suppressing his fury. “Stella, when I say one month, I mean one month. Not a day sooner will I take you back.” “Besides, I specifically told them to be decent to you. You were only supposed to face some hardships, not end up like *this*! This act is sickening.” I froze. *Be decent to me?* Past pains flooded my mind, a tide of memories. In the end, I just shook my head with a faint smile and kept moving. But before I’d walked two steps, someone stopped me. “Stella, wait!” That familiar voice. Even without seeing her face, I knew it was Isabella. She pressed a perfectly intact slice of cake into my hand. As her hands clasped mine, her nails dug in, sharp and malicious, almost breaking the skin. “It’s my birthday today, so I’m not mad about the past, okay? I just hope we can get along when you come home.” The sweeter her smile, the deeper her nails dug in. Until blood welled up. But even with the searing pain, I didn’t cry out. Because no one would care, and no one would ever believe me. I took the cake, my only wish to escape them quickly. Maybe then I could live a little longer. Back in my makeshift bed under the bridge, I frantically rummaged for expired painkillers. I swallowed handfuls, just barely easing the pounding in my head. The cold wind howled through the bridge tunnel, and I pulled my thin clothes tighter. A moment later, a charity outreach van pulled up to the bridge entrance, a loudspeaker blaring. “Temperatures are plummeting! Mr. Albert is here with warm clothes and blankets! Come and get them!” The eyes of dozens of beggars under the bridge lit up, and they scrambled to form a line. I struggled with my throbbing head, joining the very end of the queue. When it was finally my turn, the volunteer looked at me, then at a photo on his phone. He waved me away. “Go back. Mr. Albert personally said not to give you anything.” He sneered, a look of contempt on his face. “Mr. Albert is a renowned philanthropist, known for helping any beggar he can. Honestly, what kind of person do you have to be for Mr. Albert to personally tell us to cut you off?” I pressed my lips together. It was expected, yet still absurd. Albert, the celebrated global philanthropist. The man who, out of the goodness of his heart, decided to keep Isabella even after discovering she wasn’t his blood sister, continuing to give her a life of luxury. The man who donated globally, praised by everyone for his good deeds. Yet, he wouldn’t even spare his own flesh and blood sister a warm coat to survive the night.

Too cold to sleep, I decided to move around a bit to warm up. But as soon as I stood, I saw a little beggar girl being dragged away by a man, his hand clamped over her mouth. That familiar feeling—there was no mistake. The man was a kidnapper! Without thinking, ignoring the throbbing pain in my head, I lunged forward, biting down on the man’s wrist with all my might. I punched and kicked, but my strength was no match for his. In the end, I managed to save the girl, but not before he broke one of my ribs. Yet, I felt no pain. Seeing the girl unharmed, I burst into laughter. But as I laughed, tears streamed down my face, unstoppable. No one, no one knew better than me which was more agonizing: being kidnapped or being a beggar. Five years ago, on Isabella’s birthday. Just because of her tearful, false accusation: “Albert! Stella called me a fake, said I stole her life, and that she was going to sell me to kidnappers!” Coincidentally, a security guard caught a shifty man in the backyard. He swore up and down that I had paid him to abduct Isabella. No matter how I explained, Albert refused to believe me. His eyes blazing, he slapped me hard across the face, then immediately handed me over to the kidnappers. “I thought if I spoiled you enough, I could change the bad habits you picked up all those years. But I only made you more spoiled, more vicious!” “Before Mom and Dad died, I promised them I’d help you become a better person. If gentle methods don’t work, then you’ll just have to learn the hard way!” The first day I was sent away, my leg was broken, and I was sold into forced labor on the black market. Often, I worked for two days and a night straight, without a single bite of food. I was even locked in a cage, paraded around like an animal, people laughing and poking, living a life worse than any stray. I once secretly called Albert, crying and begging him to bring me home. But his resolve was unyielding. “I promised Isabella you’d suffer for five years. That’s the only way to wear down your spirit until you wouldn’t dare lay a finger on her!” Isabella! Always Isabella! Why was it always because of her? From the first day I was brought home, she twisted everything I did, always finding a way to accuse me. But Albert always took her side, and gradually, I became the villain in his eyes. After hanging up, I broke down and cried hysterically. After that, I never dared to hope for the family affection I’d longed for. I became numb, letting them manipulate me, torment me… Until one night, the lock on my box wasn’t secured, and I tumbled down a hill. Terrified of being recaptured, I avoided finding work that would expose me, surviving by begging. I scrounged for bottles and cans, saved up what little money I could to finally treat my old injuries, only to be hit with a late-stage brain cancer diagnosis. The little girl beside me suddenly reached out and gently stroked my face, wiping away my tears. She draped half of her thin jacket over me, and we huddled together for warmth. Suddenly, a large commercial screen in the distance lit up with a news report. [Mr. Albert Buys His Sister a Lavish Mansion in the Most Exclusive Neighborhood! Valued at Tens of Millions of Dollars! Truly a Global Philanthropist – the Kinder He Is, the More Successful His Business!] The little girl looked at the house on the screen, her eyes wide as she gazed up at me. “Stella, does everyone get to have a home? I hope you and I can have a home someday!” I froze. A home? The orphanage from my childhood was home to all the kids there. After I was found by my blood family, their house became Isabella’s home. Now, with my life ticking down. I suddenly wanted a home that was truly my own, even if it was just a burial plot. So, I started collecting bottles day and night, selling scraps, doing any odd job I could find. I saved just enough for a deposit on a burial plot.

My body deteriorated daily; often, I wasn’t fully conscious for an entire day. I knew I could die at any moment. But I still hadn’t paid the remaining balance for the burial plot. As I fretted, a passerby on the street handed me a flyer. “You might want to check this out. There’s a mystery CEO throwing a yacht party tonight. Shining shoes for the rich is easy money, hundreds of dollars a night.” “And the best part? These rich folks give out generous tips, sometimes a huge amount in one go.” I looked at her extended fingers, then took the flyer. At this point, any work was good work. I wasn’t in a position to be picky. I boarded the bus for workers and arrived at the yacht. From the moment I stepped on board, my knees never left the floor. I knelt by the entrance, shining shoes for every guest who arrived. The passerby hadn’t lied; some wealthy kids casually tossed me tips worth hundreds, even thousands, of dollars. I don’t know how long passed, but suddenly, the crowd erupted in cheers. “Here he comes! Tonight’s guest of honor!” I still didn’t look up. As I prepared to shine the next pair of shoes, my polishing cloth was kicked clean out of my hand. Then, a familiar voice filled my ears. “Stella! What the hell?! You’d stoop to anything to get my attention, wouldn’t you?!” “There are only three days left until you come home! You can’t even wait that long?” I finally looked up, realizing this entire party was something Albert had arranged just to make Isabella happy. He stared at me, red-faced with fury. His fists clenched tighter and tighter, but in the end, he just cursed under his breath and stormed inside the yacht. Listening to the wild party inside, I just counted the cash in my hands, bill by bill. Realizing I had exactly enough to cover the remaining balance, I quickly called the cemetery owner. But as I gave him my details and asked him to register it, he sounded puzzled. “Stella? I can’t find any information for you. You’ve been deregistered; you can’t buy anything.” “How is that possible? Sir, did you make a mistake? Please check again, okay?” Seeing my frantic, incoherent words, the owner kindly made an inquiry for me. Finally, he spoke softly. “The staff at the bureau said it was Mr. Albert, the billionaire CEO, who forced your identity to be revoked…” My phone slipped from my grasp and clattered to the floor. My eyes burned red, completely shattered. Why? Why can’t I even die in peace? Was he truly going to drive me, his own sister, to rock bottom, all for Isabella? My head buzzed, and I stormed straight into the party. “Albert!” My shout brought the entire room to a sudden, stunned silence. “How dare you revoke my identity?” “Am I not even allowed to exist anymore? To have an identity?” Albert slowly swirled his drink, his gaze on me complex and unreadable. “You’ll stoop to anything to get me to feel sorry for you. Who knows what tricks you’ll pull to mess with Isabella when you come back? If you don’t have an identity, you can’t do anything.” “But don’t worry, I’m your brother. I can give you everything you want and protect you for life.” I suddenly laughed out loud. He’d already tormented me to death; what peace could I possibly want? Isabella, acting all sweet and innocent, patted Albert’s back to soothe him. She glanced at the money in my hand and spoke. “Stella, why do you insist on doing such degrading things?” “Albert will give you anything you want, won’t he? If you hadn’t broken his heart and embarrassed him, he wouldn’t have done this.” As she spoke, she walked over to me, snatched the money from my hand, and flung it into the air.

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The eighth year since I was diagnosed with autism, Mom was packed into a red suitcase. She didn’t come out for a long, long time. I didn’t cry or make a fuss, because Mom had given me a mission. She’d carved words onto my back, telling me to find an old man named Mr. Harrison, saying he was my maternal grandpa. I asked blankly: “What if I can’t find him?” At just that one sentence, Mom’s eyes reddened. She fell silent for a moment, mumbling unconsciously. “You’re right, what if I can’t find him…?” After she spoke, even her shoulders began to tremble. Doctor Auntie said that Mom was sad, so I hugged her tightly. It worked. The next second, she smiled through her tears, cupping my face with both hands and saying: “If you can’t find Grandpa Harrison, then find Brandon. They’re both good people and they’ll like you.” But later, when I found them both, I realized Mom hadn’t just lied to them, she’d lied to me too. Two hours after Mom left, I finally went outside. Mom had specifically told me to wait. But I didn’t listen to her and go straight to the police station. Instead, I went to the nearby dumpster. Several times, I’d seen bad people drag her there. My footsteps were very light. But no one was at the dumpster, only a pungent smell, and a single, bright red suitcase. I circled the suitcase a few times. Mom said not to touch unfamiliar things casually. I started to leave, but stopped when I lifted my foot. An hour later, I stood at the police station entrance, dragging the suitcase. The bright red color on me was too dazzling. The police officer stroked my head. “Little one, where are your parents? Your mom and dad?” My face was devoid of expression. My blood-stained finger pointed at the suitcase, my voice stiff. “Mom’s in there!” At a glance, the officer scoffed. He ruffled my hair, a disapproving look on his face. “Kids shouldn’t lie. This suitcase is barely 20 inches. How could a person fit in it?” I didn’t argue. I went along with what he said. “Sir, my dad’s name is Brandon.” To complete Mom’s mission, a small lie was fine. The officer’s eyes changed when he looked at me. He immediately turned and made a phone call. A moment later, I saw Brandon, the man Mom had mentioned. Tall, thin, and imposing. And somehow vaguely familiar. Because on countless nights, Mom would hold his photo and secretly cry. And I pretended not to see. When he saw me, his eyes flickered, then instantly filled with a hint of disgust, much like the expressions of the neighbors who called me crazy. “Mr. Peterson, he says he’s Clara Harrison’s son. Apparently, he’s not quite right in the head…” The man pointed to his own head and shook it. Brandon frowned, stepped back a few paces, and then squatted down to my eye level. “Where’s your mom?” I pointed to the suitcase. “She’s in there!” His already indifferent face instantly darkened, his brows furrowing even deeper. “Your mom is a thief who stole and sold artifacts. You’re truly her son, also full of lies!” I gripped my fingers, wanting desperately to argue with him. But Mom’s mission wasn’t finished yet. I had to endure. I lowered my head and apologized softly, mimicking how children in TV shows act when they’ve done something wrong. “Sorry, sir. But Mom has something to give you.” Seeing me apologize, his stern face softened slightly. “What?” I glanced at the people around us and shook my head. “Mom said only you can see it!” Hearing this, someone scoffed mockingly: “Mr. Peterson, don’t listen to him! His mother not only ran away from your wedding but also stole a batch of your family’s ancient artifacts. What kind of decent offspring could such a bitch produce!” “A so-called artifact restorer, always tinkering in the black market, associating with those illicit dealers. She’s rotten to the core!” “She’s too ashamed to face you herself, so she sends her son to harass you! Truly a slutty, trashy schemer!” Their spit splattered all over my head and face. I stared at the ground, almost digging my fingernails into my palms until they bled. Thinking of Mom, no matter how awful it felt, I had to endure. Brandon didn’t join in the insults. After a moment of thought, he pointed towards the door. “I can take you, but not that suitcase.” I looked up abruptly. “Staring at me won’t help. Your mom is rotten and worthless, and her things are the same! I find them disgusting!” Brandon’s face was devoid of expression. I wanted to say. Mom isn’t dirty. She’s right there in that suitcase, but none of them believed me. I didn’t hesitate. I knelt down abruptly, bowing my head to him. *Thump-thump*, the sounds echoed like thunder in the police station lobby. Brandon froze for a second, then his expression turned utterly mortified. He pointed at me, squeezing a few words through gritted teeth. “So young, and already resorting to blackmail?”

I stayed silent, just repeatedly hitting my head against the floor. Blood flowed down my forehead and into my eyes, blurring Brandon’s face. But I would never leave Mom behind. People pointed fingers at us, about to crowd closer. “Enough!” “You can take him, but no one will help you!” Brandon gave me a deep look, then strode towards the door. I scrambled up, not bothering to wipe the blood from my forehead, and stumbled after him, dragging the suitcase. Seeing Brandon get into the car, I couldn’t help but speed up. *Bang!* My foot caught, and I, along with the suitcase, tumbled down the steps. For a long while, I lay on the ground, unable to get up. But seeing the suitcase rolled far away, I bit my tongue, and slowly crawled towards it. My knees scraped against the pebbles, making a sharp, grating sound. Blood dripped all the way. But I didn’t feel any pain. I just clutched the suitcase tightly, softly murmuring: “Don’t cry, Mom. Baby doesn’t hurt…” In a daze, Brandon’s impatient voice suddenly boomed above my head. “Are you coming or not?” I wiped my eyes, my throat tight, and replied, “Coming!” Brandon stared at my face for a few seconds, hesitating, then finally picked up the suitcase. Looking at his tall back, I felt a tiny bit happy. I jogged after him, mumbling, “Easy, sir, Mom will hurt…” Brandon ignored me. He just forcefully flung open the trunk, tossed the suitcase inside, and said stiffly: “Since you care so much about the suitcase, you can sit back here and keep it company.” With that, he loosened his tie and got into the car. The car door slammed shut with a *clang*. That little bit of happiness. It quietly slipped away again. I pressed my lips together, laboriously climbing into the trunk. As soon as I sat down, I hissed aloud. The heat was almost scalding my skin. “Now what?” The car window rolled down, revealing Brandon’s irritated face. I quickly shook my head. Curling up, I pulled the trunk door shut, letting the suitcase lean against me. I’m a tough boy. Not afraid of heat, not afraid of pain. I need to protect Mom. The car moved in stops and starts. The temperature in the trunk rose again with the engine. When the heat became unbearable, I would pinch my palms hard. Then I’d press my face against the suitcase and whisper, “Mom, just a little longer. It’ll be over soon.” I don’t know how long passed. Brandon took me out of the car and into a house. A strange woman came out. She pointed at me, her tone overly warm. “So this is Clara Harrison’s… son?” Although she hid it well, The disgust in her eyes was still caught by me. The doctor said that people like me with Asperger’s, though lacking emotions, can always accurately see through others’ masks. “Say Auntie!” “She’s your mom’s best friend, Stella.” Brandon didn’t respond, he just looked at me and spoke. But Mom never mentioned having a best friend. And she didn’t seem like a good person. I wanted to change the subject, so I looked up. “Sir, I have something for you, but only you can see it.” Brandon didn’t move. Stella seized the opportunity to speak. “Brandon, this child is just like his mother, so secretive… always treating others like thieves when she herself was one!” I don’t know what Brandon thought of, but his face instantly turned cold as ice. He lit a cigarette, took a drag, and exhaled a single sentence. “I’m not interested in anything belonging to your mom. Take it or leave it!” Before I could react, he went straight to the study. Only Stella and I were left in the living room. Now, she didn’t bother pretending. She folded her arms and leaned against the doorframe, a cold sneer escaping her nose. “I heard you’re very smart, but your mind isn’t quite right. Who do you think Brandon will believe, me, his wife, or you?” With that, she grabbed a red wine bottle from the shelf, smashed it with a *bang*, and lunged at me with the jagged pieces. *Thud!* Hot blood gushed out, but it wasn’t mine.

When Brandon rushed in, He saw Stella with glass shards embedded in her chest, bleeding profusely. She had collapsed to the ground. At that moment, I understood her intention. The next second, a slap, carried by the wind, landed on my face. Along with it, Brandon’s furious scolding. “The police were right, you really are sick! Attacking someone the moment you walk in!” Even then, Stella didn’t forget to act. She clutched his sleeve, falsely pleading. “Don’t blame him, it’s my fault. I shouldn’t have offered to bathe him…” Hearing that, Brandon’s eyes blazed with fury. While bandaging her, he pointed to the door. “Get out! You lunatic deserve to rot to death with your mother!” I clenched my fists, looking up to meet his gaze. “Sir, why don’t you ask how she really got hurt?” He looked as if he’d heard something hilarious, twisting his head sharply. “Do you really think she’d stab herself just to frame you?” I stared at Stella’s gradually paling face. I completely understood. This Brandon was like all the others; he didn’t believe me. Then, I’d just have to find my grandpa. Mom was right. Most people in this world, no matter the truth, only believe what they see with their own eyes. That’s why they called Mom a thief, a liar, even cursed her as a slut. But Mom wasn’t. Yet I lowered my eyes again, conceding and apologizing one more time. “I’m sorry, sir. Please hit me again if you want, just don’t be angry with me.” I offered my bruised, blood-stained face to him. He froze for a moment, then shoved me hard, turning his head away. But his voice softened slightly. “You really are your mother’s son, you’ve completely learned her trick of sticking a knife in someone’s back then offering a sweet treat…” I didn’t understand what he meant. I just knew that showing weakness appropriately could achieve my goals faster. Ignoring the pain throughout my body, I struggled to get up, tugged at his sleeve, and asked very carefully: “Does my Grandpa Harrison live here?” Almost simultaneously, the door opened. A white-haired old man stood at the entrance, his features somewhat resembling Mom’s. A surge of joy welled up in my heart. I couldn’t help but step forward, but then I heard him speak coldly. “I am not your grandpa! Don’t try to claim kinship!” “Did that bitch die, and she sent you back to deliver the news?” Doctor Auntie told me. The hardest bond to sever in this world is the blood tie between parents and children. It was true for Mom and me, and for Mom and Grandpa too. But Grandpa didn’t want to acknowledge me. Suddenly, I felt a little wronged. Not for myself, but for Mom. Remembering Mom’s instructions, I straightened my back and called out again. “Grandpa, my name is Leo…” “Shut up!” Along with the words, his cane came crashing down. *Thump!* It felt like my forehead had been split open. I finally couldn’t bear it, and knelt down in pain. Brandon reached out his hand, but quickly pulled it back. Stella huddled in his arms, struggling to suppress a laugh. “Where did this bastard come from, how dare he call me grandpa! Tell Clara Harrison, I cut off all ties with her! We are no longer father and daughter!” “Don’t let any random stray come and defile my Harrison family!” Grandpa clenched his fist and coughed violently a few times. After coughing, he didn’t forget to spit at me. I stared blankly at his face, filled with hatred, then at Brandon, who had been watching coldly. It was a sudden realization. Mom had lied to me. Neither Brandon nor Grandpa Harrison liked me. I lowered my head, digging my fingernails into my already raw palms. The blood from my forehead, mixed with tears, dripped one by one onto my lap. Seeing me cry, Grandpa grew even angrier.

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I was painting by the lake with my son when I ran into my parents for the first time in eight years. My son, flying a kite, bumped right into my father. When my father saw Leo’s face, the ceramic piece fell from his hand. “This child…he looks just like Skylar did.” I dropped my brush, stepped between them, and turned to leave. “Skylar Wallace!” My mother was in front of me, blocking the path. ” Eight years without a word.” “Do you know how many cities we’ve searched for you in? Your brother got into a car accident looking for you. He still has a limp!” “Why are you still so selfish and stubborn? You’re nothing like Chloe.” I calmly looked them over. “You’ve got the wrong person. My name is Rain.” The home they spoke of had died in my heart eight years ago. “Skylar! Is that any way to look at your own parents?” Seeing my expressionless face, Father grew even angrier. “We were too soft! Should’ve let you rot in prison!” My five-year-old son thrust himself forward, arms spread. “Don’t you dare yell at my mom! You’re bad!” Father’s face turned purple with rage, his finger practically poking my face. “Is this your son?! No wonder you’re hiding! Who’s the father? Some backwater nobody?” He raised his hand and slapped me hard. Seeing me get hit, Leo cried and rushed forward, his tiny fists pounding against Mr. Wallace’s leg. “Bad man! I’ll tell Daddy to stab you with his carving knife!” Ignoring the stinging pain on my face, I quickly scooped Leo back into my arms. “Leo, let’s go home.” My mother ran up, grabbing my sleeve. “Skylar, stop this nonsense! Your dad is just upset! He was diagnosed with liver cancer last year; the doctors say three years at most… Can’t you show him some understanding? Please, come home with us!” I shook off her hand, my voice as cold as ice. “I told you, my name is Rain. If you harass me again, I’m calling the cops.” With that, I carried Leo and walked towards my husband’s studio. Back in the studio, I collapsed onto the sofa, trembling all over. Leo, still sobbing, pulled my husband, Alex, out. “Daddy! He hit Mommy! Look!” Alex, still holding a sculpting tool covered in clay, rushed to me in a few strides. He cupped my face, his fingertips gently tracing the red, swollen area. “Who did this? Tell me.” I gripped his wrist, shaking my head. “I ran into two people I wish I hadn’t.” Alex didn’t press further, just pulled me into his embrace, stroking my back gently. “Don’t be afraid. I’m here. No one will hurt you again.” Leo stood on his tiptoes, his little hands stained with paint touching my cheek, mimicking how I’d comfort him. “Mommy, no boo-boos. I will kiss it better.” Alex also lowered his head, his forehead resting against mine. “Rain, honey, I’m here.” My vision suddenly blurred. A long time ago, I was cherished like this too. I was afraid of thunderstorms, so Mom and Dad covered my room ceiling with glow-in-the-dark stars. Dad said each star was an eye watching over me. I was afraid to sleep alone, so they set up a small cot by my bed and took turns sleeping next to me. “Skylar, honey, Mommy and Daddy will always be with you.” All of that crumbled when I was six, after my father brought home the orphaned daughter of his army buddy.

“Skylar, this is Chloe. From now on, she’s your sister.” I was so happy. I brought out all my most treasured picture books for her, and gave her the limited-edition music box Mom had brought back from Paris. Finally, I carefully took out the ceramic vase from the display cabinet. “Chloe, look, this is the first piece Mom and I ever made together. It’s one of a kind!” Chloe took the vase, stared at it for three seconds, then suddenly let go… The porcelain vase crashed to the floor, shards flying everywhere. “What are you doing?!” I shrieked, pushing her away. Chloe fell back among the shards, her palm pressing onto a piece, and blood instantly welled up. Her cries drew my parents. Father rushed in and scooped her up, while Mother hurried to find the first-aid kit. “Skylar pushed me… She said a stray like me doesn’t deserve to touch her things…” Chloe sobbed, gasping for breath. My father’s eyes were bloodshot. He held her tight. “Chloe, don’t cry. From now on, I’m your dad.” He turned and roared at me, “Skylar! Apologize to Chloe right now!” I pointed at the scattered shards, tears streaming down my face. “She broke my vase first!” “Is a stupid vase more important than your sister’s hand? How could you be so cruel?!” my father roared. “Mom and I worked on that for three whole days…’” I choked, unable to finish. “Skylar, we’ve spoiled you too much!” Mother sighed, shaking her head. “No dinner for you tonight. Go to your room and think about what you’ve done.” That night, they took Chloe to the restaurant I’d always wanted to go to. When they returned, they brought me a slice of Black Forest cake. Mother said Chloe had lost her parents, so I needed to be understanding and let her have her way more often. I ate the cake, nodding in naive agreement. But that ‘giving in’ ended up costing me my entire life. Whenever Chloe wanted something, Mother would say, “Skylar, let Chloe have it.” My art supplies, my study room, even my dreams. When I was twelve, Chloe stole my pottery piece, the one I’d worked on for a year. She submitted it to the National Youth Art Competition. She took home the Grand Prize. I stopped Mother in the hallway. “Why?” “Haven’t you won enough awards? Just let Chloe have this one.” “That was a year’s worth of work for me!” I nearly screamed. “Enough!” Father emerged from his study, his face dark. “It’s just one pottery piece! If it took you a year, it means you have no talent. Don’t touch clay again!” That night, I had an acute gastritis attack, curled up on the floor in pain. They were out with Chloe, attending the awards gala, being interviewed by the media. The next day, Grandma Rose, who had rushed from a neighboring town, found me and took me to the hospital. The doctor said that if we’d been half an hour later, a stomach perforation would have been serious. Grandma Rose flew into a rage on the spot. Ignoring my parents’ objections, she insisted on taking me away. They tried to pick me up later, but every time they were about to leave, Chloe would either have an asthma attack or threaten to hurt herself. Gradually, they stopped coming to see me, and I stopped asking. My time with Grandma Rose was the most peaceful period of my life. She didn’t call me Skylar; she called me Rain. She said I was her proudest grandchild, the smartest kid in the world. But Grandma Rose was getting old, and I had to return to that house my sophomore year of high school.

Before my senior year started, Grandma Rose’s heart condition flared up. She insisted my parents take me home, saying she couldn’t let my studies be interrupted. I held a bottle of Grandma Rose’s homemade wine, pushing open the door with anticipation. Grandma Rose had once said that my father loved her homemade wine most when he was young. But when I got home, the nanny told me my parents had taken Chloe to Switzerland for skiing. A week later, they finally returned. “Skylar, I missed you so much!” Mother hugged me. Father also patted my shoulder. “Kiddo, you’ve grown taller.” I was about to turn and get the wine when Chloe suddenly shrieked and tumbled down the stairs. They immediately released me and rushed over. “I wanted to help Skylar with her luggage… I slipped…” Chloe’s face was as white as a sheet, clutching her ankle. “I’m so useless…” Mother examined her foot. “Silly girl, your ballet recital is next week. What if you’ve injured your foot?” “Let’s go get X-rays at the hospital right now.” Father already had the car keys. Before leaving, Mother glanced at the wine bottle in my hand. “Stay away from that stuff. You’re a senior, you need to focus on your studies.” I sat on the stairs, uncorked the bottle, and drank it all, sip by sip. That night, I suggested moving out, into the school dorms. My parents initially disagreed, but eventually nodded after Chloe’s persuasive argument that “Skylar needs a quiet environment to study for her exams.” The day I received my acceptance letter to the Art Academy, I rushed home to pack. Grandma Rose had always said her favorite was Italian Renaissance painting. So I applied to a university in Italy; I wanted to take Grandma Rose with me. Just as I was dragging my suitcase out, my phone rang. It was the nursing home calling. “Is this Skylar? Your Grandma Rose… had a sudden heart attack. She’s being resuscitated. Please come quickly…” The phone slipped from my grasp. Trembling, I opened the door. My parents stood outside, their faces grim. “Mom… Grandma Rose, she…” I gripped Mother’s arm, my voice shaking. “Take me to the nursing home… I need to see Grandma Rose… please…” “Skylar, Grandma Rose will be fine,” Mother said, hugging me and patting my back gently. “But before you go, can you do us a favor?” “What favor?” I asked, looking up through tears. “Save Chloe.” Mother looked past me. Chloe emerged from behind Father, covered in blood, trembling all over.

My mind went numb, and a chill spread through me. “What happened to her?” “Chloe… she got into a fight with someone in the art studio tonight. She accidentally… pushed someone down the stairs.” Mother’s voice trembled. “That person is still in critical condition, and Chloe was scared, so she ran back here.” I understood instantly, but still asked, “How do you want me to help?” Father gripped my shoulders. “Skylar, you need to take the fall. Chloe is only seventeen; her life can’t be ruined like this! She’s already an orphan; she can’t go to prison too!” I shoved him away, screaming with all my might, “What about me?! My life can just be ruined?! I’m only eighteen!” “How could you be so selfish?” Mother looked at me, incredulous. “You’re our daughter! Even if you go to prison, we can support you for the rest of your life! But what about Chloe? She has nothing!” I looked at her and suddenly laughed, tears streaming down my face. “I can’t help you with this. If you won’t take me to Grandma Rose, I’ll go myself!” I dragged my suitcase and rushed for the door. “Stop!” Father’s sharp command. Two bodyguards emerged from the shadows and pinned me down. “If you don’t agree today, you’re not walking out this door!” I looked at them, then at Mother. “Mom, Grandma Rose is being resuscitated, and you don’t care?” “Skylar, your Grandma Rose has doctors treating her, but if you don’t help Chloe now, her life will be over!” Mother cried. “Chloe said if she goes to jail, she’ll kill herself! Skylar, please, just take pity on us, save her life!” As she spoke, she pulled my ID card from my pocket, handed it to the lawyer standing nearby, and then dialed 911 right in front of me. “Hello, I’d like to report a crime. This afternoon’s fall from the Art Academy building? My daughter, Skylar, did it.” The call ended. I looked at them, my tears all dried up. “Mr. and Mrs. Wallace, you truly are saints.” I said calmly. “Fine, I’ll confess. But you must take me to the nursing home now. I need to see Grandma Rose one last time.” When I arrived at the nursing home, the lights in the emergency room were already off. Grandma Rose had stopped breathing an hour earlier. I knelt by her bed, placing my Art Academy acceptance letter next to her cold hand. “Grandma Rose, look, I got into the Art Academy. I can take you to Italy now…” Later, the police took me away from the nursing home. At the police station, I tried to recant my confession. But my parents and their lawyer fabricated everything. They planted my clothing fibers at the scene. The surveillance cameras captured a figure resembling me from behind. They even had a text message, supposedly from me to Chloe, admitting it all. On the day of the trial, my parents sat in the front row of the courtroom. Chloe wept delicately against my mother’s shoulder. My mother gently patted her back. Father murmured comforts to her. I kept my eyes forward and never looked back. In the end, I was convicted of aggravated assault resulting in serious injury and sentenced to five years. “Mommy, your hands are so cold.” Leo’s voice pulled me from the dark well of memory. I pulled him close, my lips pressed to his hair. “I’m okay. I have you and Alex. I’m not afraid.” Then Alex was there, his arms encircling us both, his kiss a soft promise against my temple. “It’s all over now. I’m here.” Suddenly, the wooden door of the studio was kicked open. My parents stormed in, faces contorted with rage.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “314836”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster #重生Reborn #现实主义Realistic #浪漫Romance

Everyone believed Spencer loved me to death. Little did they know, for four years he hid another woman in a private hospital suite. His “business trips” were nights in her arms. Now, I couldn’t wait to see his face when he got the news. News of my “death”… on our wedding day. Hayley POV “Ms. Hayley, your Digital Ghost Protocol is activated. The execution date is set on the day of your wedding with Mr. Spencer. We stage an accident and erase you. Please authorize with an iris scan here.” I leaned into the scanner. A cold red light swept over my pupils. On the screen, my digital signature instantly appeared. I left the unmarked building and vanished into the crowd. At a newsstand, a magazine cover stopped me cold: Spencer and me. The headline screamed: BILLIONAIRE HEIR: A DECADE OF DEVOTION, ALL FOR HAYLEY. I remembered that photo. It was taken after Spencer successfully proposed. He knelt on a mountaintop covered in white tulips, his hands, usually so steady, trembled uncontrollably as he placed the ring on my finger. When I said yes, tears streamed down his face. Beside me, two girls at the bus stop were huddled over the magazine. “Oh my god, the way Spencer looks at Hayley, it’s absolutely melting!” “I know,” the other said. ” Did you hear about when she got hurt climbing? The blood bank was empty, so Mr. Spencer chartered a private jet to Europe for blood.He stayed by the ICU door for three days. And that observatory Spencer built for Hayley? It’s still one of the hottest dating spots around! This isn’t a romance novel. It’s better!” I looked away, a ghost of a smile touching my lips. Everyone believed Spencer loved me to death. So, no one would believe it. For four entire years, he’d hidden another woman in a private hospital’s VIP suite. I discovered the truth. Those countless “business trips” were nights spent in her arms. The betrayal didn’t crush me all at once. It was a slow freeze, my heart fracturing into a thousand cold, silent pieces. I opened the encrypted cloud drive, filled with that woman’s diaries and recordings. Closing my eyes, my thoughts drifted back. Back then, my family had just gone bankrupt, and relatives were all scrambling to get a piece of the pie. It was Spencer who directly called in his legal team. He signed the guardianship transfer agreement for me. His voice wasn’t loud, but every word carried immense weight. “From now on, her problems are my problems. I am responsible for her future.” From that day on, he gave me the world. He’d drank until he was hospitalized in my stead. He knew all my food allergies. His social media was practically a shrine dedicated to me. To everyone, he was “Hayley’s Knight.” When he proposed, he kissed my hand, his voice hoarse, pleading, saying he only wanted me for the rest of his long life, and if I left, he would completely lose control. He was the one who first said he couldn’t live without me, and he was also the one who betrayed me first. So be it. I would give him a staged death. I would make sure he could never find any trace of me, ever again. A black Bentley glided silently to my side. The car door opened, revealing Spencer’s sharply defined profile. “Get in.” He said concisely. I got into the car. He didn’t ask any questions, just turned up the heat a few degrees and handed me his still-warm coffee. “Your hands are freezing. Aren’t you afraid of catching a cold?” His voice held a hint of concern. Spencer squeezed my hand, then pulled me into his embrace, trying to warm me with his body heat. “You’re so cold… And you didn’t even dress warmly. Are you trying to break my heart?” I said nothing, just looked up at him. The concern in his eyes was so genuine, so flawless. And precisely because of that, I found it even more chilling. Just then, a financial reporter with a camera hurried over, eyes gleaming, peering in through the window. “Mr. Spencer, Ms. Hayley! I’m a reporter from the Capital Frontier. It’s such a thrill to meet you both! Your love story inspires so many people. Could you spare a minute for a photo?” I initially wanted to refuse, but after a moment’s hesitation, I nodded. Spencer, who usually disliked cameras, still obediently pulled me closer and smiled for the lens. After the photo, the reporter thanked us, her face flushed, her words full of blessings. She wished us a fairytale ending, living happily ever after. Happily ever after? I turned my head to look at Spencer. He happened to be looking down at me too, his eyes filled with a tenderness that could drown a person. As if he, too, believed in this fairytale ending. Only I knew, our road had reached its end.

Hayley POV The wedding reception was to be held on a private island Spencer had bought specifically for me. As soon as we landed, the wedding planning director and her team greeted us, their voices respectful and envious. “Ms. Hayley, as Mr. Spencer instructed, we’ve prepared a thousand varieties of Dutch tulips, air-freighted here for your selection. Would you like to visit the flower house now?” I didn’t speak, my gaze sweeping past everyone to Spencer, who stood a short distance away. He was looking down at his phone, his eyes filled with that raw, undisguised desire. I’d only ever seen that look in his eyes when he viewed photos attached to that woman’s audio diaries. Noticing my gaze, Spencer immediately put away his phone and hurried over, his face etched with apology. “Hayley, there’s a glitch at the company. A document needs my immediate signature in person. It can’t wait; I have to leave right away.” With that, he pressed a kiss to my forehead and rushed towards another helicopter, which was already preparing for takeoff, leaving me alone on this island that was meant for me. The planning director cautiously stepped forward. “Ms. Hayley, shall we-” I cut him off with a shake of my head. “No need. I don’t want any of this.” After all, the star of this grand wedding would be a “missing” bride. In the car back to the city, my burner phone pinged to life. An encrypted message came, sender unknown. An audio file. Only seconds long. In the background, the rhythmic drip-drip of an IV machine. A fragile female voice, tinged with sobs, spoke haltingly. “The medicine…it’s so bitter. And my hand…it hurts. But just thinking of you…I can…I can stand it.” Immediately after, a message from Spencer’s black profile picture appeared. “Be a good girl. I’ll be there soon.” I turned off the screen, closed my eyes, and tried to suppress the gut-wrenching pain in my heart. I thought I’d become numb after reading so many explicit diary entries and listening to so many intimate recordings. But that bone-deep agony still easily swept over me. Finally, I forced myself to lean back against the seat and set my phone to silent. Late at night, I curled up in bed, my eyes red and sleepless. The phone beside my pillow pinged with encrypted message notifications every hour. I didn’t open them until dawn. The number periodically sent photos-sometimes a hand hooked up to an IV, sometimes a half-finished cup of warm milk, sometimes the breaking dawn outside a window. The last photo was accompanied by a line of text. “He says he only finds peace with me.” I lay motionless, just like that, my eyes red, staring at those photos again and again. When Spencer returned, I hadn’t changed my position. He seemed to pause for a moment, then lunged forward, pulling me into his arms, his voice tight. “Hayley, who hurt you?” Had I cried? I only then snapped back to reality, belatedly touching my cheeks. They were cold and wet. After a long time, I managed a faint smile. But the smile couldn’t hide the lifeless gaze in my eyes. “Nothing, I just saw a really touching set of photos.” Spencer kissed my face, dotingly saying, “What photos made you cry like that? Babe, are you trying to give your husband a heart attack?” Just as I was about to speak, the butler respectfully knocked on the door from outside. “Sir, the car is ready.” He hummed in response, then turned to kiss me again, still in his arms. “Hayley, it was my fault for leaving you alone on the island yesterday. As compensation, at tonight’s charity auction, whatever you want, I’ll bid on it for you, okay?” I didn’t answer. He took my silence as consent, sweeping me into his arms and personally choosing my gown and jewelry.

Hayley POV At the auction. To win a smile from me, Spencer bought every single item in the entire first half of the auction, even though I didn’t spare a single glance for any of them. During the intermission, a few of Spencer’s childhood friends came over to chat. “I was wondering who was being so possessive. Of course, it’s you, Spencer.” “You totally swiped that antique I wanted to get for my mom’s birthday right from under my nose. Guess I missed my chance.” “Hey, Spencer, give us a break for the second half, okay? We just want to buy one thing!” Spencer barely bothered with them, focused instead on peeling a blood orange for me. Only after they finished complaining did he slowly lift his eyes and say nonchalantly, “What’s the rush? My fiancée hasn’t even started picking yet.” The group let out a chorus of dramatic complaints but could only reluctantly accept defeat. Spencer’s lips curved upwards as he held a perfect segment of orange to my mouth. I turned my head away, my expression cold. “No appetite.” The second half began. Just then, the side door of the venue opened. A slender woman in a simple white dress, guided by a staff member, walked in. I felt Spencer’s body beside me instantly stiffen. I looked up, and Mia’s pale yet fragile face drifted into my line of sight. Mia softly thanked the staff member, declined the empty seats in the front row, and chose to sit alone in the least conspicuous corner at the very back. Everyone in the room cast curious glances, whispering to each other. “Isn’t that Mia, the famous artist from social media? I heard she has really poor health and rarely makes public appearances.” “Why would she be at a place like this?” “Shh, don’t you know? She has a mysterious patron, rumored to be incredibly powerful. Looking at her, she’s probably here to bid on something for her patron.” I was about to look away when I saw Mia take out her phone, snap a photo of a painting about to be auctioned, and then send a message. Almost simultaneously, Spencer’s phone lit up. He quickly glanced at it, then put it back in his pocket, but his posture unconsciously straightened. My heart sank. Throughout the second half, I remained distracted until the final item, the grand finale, was presented. It was a yellowed manuscript of poetry, said to be the sole surviving copy left by a deceased niche poet-my favorite poet. The auctioneer passionately described the manuscript’s rarity and uniqueness. Perhaps sensing a flicker of interest in my eyes, Spencer didn’t hesitate to raise his paddle. “One million!” A cool female voice rang out from the back row. “Two million, one thousand.” It was Mia. Her voice was soft but carried a stubborn edge. Spencer’s brows furrowed, “Five million!” “Five million, one thousand.” “Ten million!” “Ten million, one thousand.” Mia’s voice trembled slightly, as if she was exerting all her strength. … Finally, Spencer, expressionless, made a gesture to his assistant. The assistant immediately stepped forward and whispered to the auctioneer. The auctioneer excitedly struck his hammer. “Ladies and gentlemen! Mr. Spencer has exercised his right of first refusal and has just completed a full acquisition of the auction house’s parent company! This manuscript, and all items auctioned today, now belong to Mr. Spencer!” The room erupted in applause. Spencer gently squeezed my hand and whispered in my ear. “Stay here, I’ll go handle the transfer paperwork.” I watched him stand and leave. At the other end of the room, Mia also stood up, giving me a deep, unreadable look. After everyone had left, I slowly uncurled my tightly clenched hand, my nails leaving deep, bloody marks in my palm. I didn’t feel the pain. I just stood up and walked towards the exit. My phone screen was still on the message I had just received. “Underground parking.”

Hayley POV The parking garage was so empty you could hear echoes. Only a Maybach sat in a corner. Spencer’s driver stood nearby, politely redirecting anyone who tried to approach. Therefore, no one noticed the faint mist covering the car’s rear window. A woman’s low sobs and a man’s suppressed gasps drifted out intermittently. I instantly lost all strength, leaning against a cold pillar, staring intently at the scene unfolding before me. The car window wasn’t completely closed, revealing glimpses of the interior. Mia was pressed against the window by him, the precious manuscript tossed aside, its pages crushed and distorted. “Spencer, please… the manuscript will be ruined.” Spencer’s voice was hoarse and thick, “Isn’t this exactly what you wanted? Now, along with me, all of this is yours.” With that, he thrust deeper. I clamped a hand over my mouth, turned, and fled in shame. I don’t know how long I ran, finally collapsing on the steps of the fire escape, gasping for breath, tears streaming down my face. I thought everything at the auction had already hardened my heart, but that scene in the car completely suffocated me. When Spencer and I first started dating, he was as innocent as a schoolboy. The first time we held hands, his palms were slick with sweat. The first time we kissed, his lips trembled. Our first time truly being intimate was the night he successfully proposed. I used to often tease him about his restraint, but he would just hold me tight, his voice hoarse. “Babe, no man can hold back when he’s with the woman he loves. It’s just that I love you too much; I wanted to wait until everything was settled, to give you the utmost respect.” He cherished me so deeply. But now, reality had slapped me across the face with the harshest truth. I buried my face in my knees, shaking uncontrollably as I cried. After what felt like an eternity, I numbly got up and walked towards the restroom. My phone vibrated in my hand. It was from Mia. A photo. The back seat of the car was a mess, the manuscript casually tossed in a corner, its cover damaged. “This car is filled with our scent. And, Spencer promised to give me this manuscript. Now, this unique love is mine.” I didn’t look again, just turned off my phone. By the time I’d touched up my makeup and emerged from the restroom, I ran into Spencer, who had returned to look for me. His hands, sure enough, were empty. The next second, I was enveloped in an embrace, carrying a faint, unfamiliar perfume scent. Just as I was about to push him away, his apologetic voice sounded above my head. “Hayley, the author’s family for the manuscript changed their mind at the last minute and demanded an exorbitant price, refusing to sell. I promise I’ll find you an even better one next time, okay?” I took a deep breath, looked up, my voice carrying an almost imperceptible choke. “What if I just want that one?” Spencer softly cajoled. “Babe, don’t cry. That one actually had a lot of flaws. I won’t allow my girl to own anything imperfect. I’ll send people to search the world for it right now, okay?” Hearing this, I smiled. In the past, whatever I wanted, he would immediately place before me. Now, for another woman, he had a thousand excuses. Just as he was about to say something more, I pushed him away, my voice weary. “Forget it, I don’t want it anymore.” I turned and walked away. “Hayley!” Spencer called my name from behind, his hurried footsteps following me. I didn’t stop until, at the corner of the corridor ahead, a figure slowly emerged. It was Mia. She was clutching the manuscript tightly, the creases on its cover clearly visible. The footsteps behind me abruptly stopped. I paused and glanced back. Spencer’s face instantly turned ashen. He froze, his gaze fixed on the item in Mia’s arms, utterly flustered and at a loss. I turned back around, expressionless, and walked past Mia as if I hadn’t seen her. From behind me came Spencer’s low growl, filled with suppressed fury. “Are you insane? I told you not to appear in front of her!” I didn’t look back, just slowed my pace, listening to this absurd drama unfold. Mia’s voice was weak and innocent. “I’m sorry… I just wanted to say thank you to her. She didn’t even notice, did she? I won’t do it again…” Immediately followed by a pained gasp. “Spencer, I feel so dizzy… I think I have a fever again…” The next second, I heard the rustling of fabric-the sound of a man frantically steadying a woman. “Why are you so hot?” Spencer’s voice, the anger that had flared just moments before, instantly vanished, replaced only by undisguised urgency and concern. He didn’t chase after me. In that long corridor, he stopped pursuing me, turning instead to embrace the “feverish” woman. I looked at the empty exit ahead, a sarcastic curve to my lips. No need to look back now.

Hayley POV Spencer didn’t come home that night. He only said the company had an urgent merger. I didn’t question him, didn’t argue. If I was going to disappear completely, I had to erase every trace of myself from this world. I categorized, packed, donated, and destroyed all my belongings. Finally, I opened the safe in the study. Inside were all the design sketches Spencer had given me over the past ten years. At ten, my first dress drawn with a boy’s unsteady hand. At fifteen, a pair of high heels he designed. A note beside it read, “Let me walk every path with you.” At seventeen, the blueprints for The Hayley Observatory, his tribute to Halley’s Comet calling me his eternal miracle. At eighteen,a wedding ring of his own design, with a vow to propose anew each year until I was ready, until I said yes. … Without hesitation, I scanned the artworks, packaged them, and anonymously shipped the entire collection to one of the nation’s largest art charity foundations. Note: Unrestricted donation for public auction. All proceeds to fund art education in underserved regions. News of the priceless, exclusive manuscripts being donated without compensation instantly went viral online. I finished everything and was about to rest when the front door burst open. Spencer rushed in, bringing with him the biting night wind. He grabbed my hand, his voice trembling. “Hayley, you donated all those manuscripts. What does that mean?” I looked up at him. He looked like he’d rushed back as fast as possible, his expensive coat still damp from outside, his face etched with unconcealed panic. I asked softly, “How did you know?” “It’s already a trending topic on social media!” Before I could speak, he pulled me into a fierce embrace, his trembling words filled with terror. “Hayley, tell me why? Those are our memories, how could you…?” “What did I do wrong? Tell me, I’ll fix it. I’ll change everything. Just don’t leave me, okay?” Finally, he almost cried. But I just gazed calmly into the empty space before me, my expression utterly indifferent. If he was so afraid of me leaving, why was he keeping another woman outside? Was he too confident, or did he think I was too foolish? Now, with just the tip of the iceberg, he was already panicking. Well, I eagerly awaited the look on his face when he received news of my “death” on our wedding day. I slowly pushed him away, my face calm. “You’re overthinking it. Those things were just taking up space. Ideally, they should serve a meaningful purpose, helping those in need. Wouldn’t that be better? Why are you so nervous… do you think I should cling to the past?” At my last question, his expression shifted slightly, but he immediately gripped my hand tightly. “That’s not what I mean, Hayley.” He said decisively. “You know how much I love you! We’re getting married soon, nothing will go wrong.” I pulled at the corner of my mouth, “If nothing’s wrong, what are you worried about? It’s late, I’m tired.” With that, I turned and walked away.

Hayley POV Because of my recent, consecutive strange behaviors, Spencer changed. For several days straight, he was like a shadow, clinging to me every step of the way. Until one morning, his phone vibrated. He opened the message, and the sleepiness in his eyes vanished instantly. He glanced at me, “asleep” beside him, pressed a soft kiss to my forehead, then silently slipped out of bed and left the room. The moment he left, I opened my eyes. I checked my phone. The “Digital Ghost” agency had sent a message. my new identity’s biometric data collection was complete, requiring only a final in-person confirmation. In a covert biological laboratory. I stared at the newly generated digital identity on the screen. From gene sequence to iris data, it was completely different from my own. The entire process went smoothly. It seemed Spencer would never suspect a thing. Everything was ready. As I finished my business and was about to leave, the person in charge called me back and handed me a file. It was the final report from the investigation I had commissioned into Mia’s background. I opened the folder. The first page was a medical scan. Under the “Diagnosis” section, it read. “Pregnancy, 12 weeks.” And under “Emergency Contact,” two words were signed. Spencer. They had a child? I don’t remember how I left, or how I got home. In the dark room, my phone screen emitted a faint glow. Just as the screen was about to dim, a notification popped up. Mia was live-streaming. I tapped it open. Mia glowed in her maternity dress, sharing her pregnancy bliss with an adoring stream. The chat flooded with congratulations. Then a man’s hand entered the frame. Long fingers, a distinctive scar. Ice flooded my veins. I knew that hand. It had held my face, wiped away my tears, and put a ring on my finger. But now, this hand was gently caressing Mia’s swollen belly. “Doctor’s orders, love. Time to rest.” As this deep, magnetic voice spoke, the chat went wild. “Wait…is that Spencer Corp’s CEO?” But the comment was quickly drowned out. Mia smiled shyly, letting his hand hold hers. “He’s very private. He doesn’t want to show his face.” Fans began to tease, asking about their love story. Mia glanced beside her, smiling. “Him? He once loved me so much. In high school, he wrote me love letters, but he was too nervous to say anything, afraid I’d reject him. Finally, I had to snatch his letter and tell him I would…” My grip on the phone tightened abruptly. That was our story. “Plink.” Tears splattered onto the screen. In the live stream, Mia suddenly announced she was going offline. Facing her fans’ protests, she playfully complained. “It’s not me who wants to stop streaming. It’s the baby’s dad, he’s pestering me, saying he wants to start teaching the baby in utero.” No sooner had she spoken than Spencer reached out and cut off the video feed. But he forgot to turn off the microphone. A gasp was heard. “Oh, what are you doing…” Then came the man’s low chuckle and the woman’s suppressed moans. “Shh. The doctor said, be gentle, it’s good for the baby…” I couldn’t listen anymore. I slammed the power button. Soon. Soon, I would be free.

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The city remained, but we were strangers. The tenth time I found Julian cheating in our bed, his reaction wasn’t as intense as before. He glanced at his watch, then gently draped a coat over the young woman in his arms. Turning to me, he said, “Your prenatal appointment isn’t until this afternoon, is it? Why are you back so early?” When I didn’t answer, he gently stroked her head. “If you want to argue, argue with me! Don’t hurt her!” He thought I’d throw another huge tantrum, just like always. But what he didn’t know was that our ten-year pact was almost up. I was finally going to be free of him. On our wedding photo by the bed, two clear handprints stood out. One on my face, one on Julian’s. It was easy to imagine exactly what they’d been doing moments before. I took a deep breath and turned to Julian. “Didn’t we agree you wouldn’t bring anyone home?” “Do you even remember what day it is today?” Julian scoffed, unfazed. He lit a cigarette, blowing the smoke right into my face. “Had too much to drink, how could I remember so many things?” The young woman beside him, Chelsea, flinched. She scrambled to put on her clothes, nervously glancing at me. “Mrs. Sterling, I didn’t mean to.” “It was last night…” Seeing her fumbling, I walked closer and zipped up the back of her dress. “It’s fine. You can go.” “I know exactly what kind of man Julian is.” This wasn’t the first time this had happened in all these years. Drunk, in a bad mood, bored, looking for fun. Anything could be an excuse for him to cheat. As for this young woman, I couldn’t even keep track of how many there had been. Why bother getting angry at her? Chelsea scurried away, terrified. I called Maria, our housekeeper, to clean up the room. The messy room, the scattered contraceptives on the floor. It was sickening to look at. I covered my nose and mouth, spraying disinfectant everywhere. Julian came up behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist. His head, fuzzy from sleep, nuzzled into my neck. “Honey, when did you become so understanding?” “Are you worried I won’t come back, or have you finally learned how to be a proper socialite?” He squeezed my cheek, smirking. “This is so much better.” “As long as you’re obedient, I’ll never let anyone take your place as Mrs. Sterling.” With that, Julian expertly pulled a pair of earrings from a pile of gift boxes and put them on me. “This is your reward.” “Alright, don’t be mad. I know today is our tenth wedding anniversary.” “Wipe your tears, I’ll take you out to celebrate.” He said it so casually. But he didn’t know that in these ten years, my tears had long since run dry. I avoided Julian’s touch, holding out the divorce papers I’d already prepared. “Julian, let’s get a divorce.” He froze for a moment, then burst out laughing. “Don’t be ridiculous, Aurora.” “You know we can’t divorce.” He pinched my cheek, his hand trailing down my body, stopping at my lower abdomen. “Go pack your things. I’ll take you to your prenatal appointment.” “Don’t cause trouble for yourself.” Years ago, to be with Julian, I broke ties with my family. My father declared I was never to set foot in our home again. To punish my willfulness, he pulled some strings, binding Julian and me together. No breakups, no divorce. For life, whether in love or hate, we were to remain with each other. Back then, Julian knelt before me, swearing he’d love me for life, promising I’d never regret my choice. But in the second year of our marriage, he betrayed us. Julian, arm-in-arm with his mistress, looked at me defiantly. “Yes, I cheated. What can you do about it?” “Aurora, you have nowhere to go.” “For the rest of your life, you’re stuck with me!” I cried, calling my family, saying I regretted everything. My father coldly hung up. My mother stood by, doing nothing. They said it was the path I chose, and I had to walk it till the end, even if I was crying. And so, knowing I couldn’t leave, Julian grew more brazen, more reckless. He had endless affairs, his scandals constantly in the tabloids. Now, he was openly bringing women into our home. But what he didn’t know was that when I left, I made a ten-year pact with my father. A gamble on how long our love would last. If I won, he would do everything to support our marriage. If I lost, I would return and accept the family’s arranged marriage. Because of Julian, this marriage, this gamble—I lost everything spectacularly. While Julian was driving, I dialed that familiar number. “Dad, I lost.” “A bet’s a bet. I’ll be back in three days to marry him.”

My father had never lost a bet. Facing this expected outcome, he showed no surprise. He simply hummed in acknowledgment, giving a few brief instructions. “Aurora, you are my eldest daughter. This empire still needs you to inherit it.” “What’s past is past. I won’t argue with you, but there’s one thing you must remember.” “Don’t take what shouldn’t be taken, and don’t leave what shouldn’t be left behind.” What shouldn’t be taken was the child in my womb. What shouldn’t be left was the fortune I’d built for Julian. These ten years of pain were the lesson he wanted me to remember. “I understand, Dad.” After I hung up, Julian was already honking the horn downstairs, urging me to hurry. I got into the passenger seat—the one that had another woman’s name written all over it. On the way, neither of us spoke. He pretended not to notice the distance on my face. I pretended not to notice the suffocating perfume in the car. When we got out, Julian instinctively reached for my arm to steady me. His rolled-up sleeve revealed a long, jagged scar. For a moment, I couldn’t help but feel a pang of melancholy. To be with me, Julian had once taken eighteen knife wounds, barely clinging to life. The man who had once loved me enough to risk his life… how had he become this? Before I could ponder it further, a woman linked her arm through Julian’s. “Julian, you haven’t visited me in so long!” “What brings you here today? Did you argue with your old hag at home, or couldn’t your new fling satisfy you?” It was Chelsea. The most favored of Julian’s many mistresses, and the one who had been with him the longest. Chelsea intimately snuggled up to Julian, her ample chest rubbing against him. Julian beamed, ignoring me completely. He magically pulled out a ruby necklace to appease her. “What are you talking about? I’d forget anyone before I forgot my little darling!” “I saw how fair your skin is, so I specifically bought you this necklace.” “Alright, go entertain yourself for a bit. I still need to take my wife to her prenatal appointment. I’ll come find you when I’m done.” He even gave Chelsea’s backside a pat before he finished. Looking at the sparkling necklace, I almost laughed out loud. A man who clawed his way up from nothing truly knows how to be frugal. A single jewelry set, split and given to so many different women. The earrings in my ears burned, stinging my heart. I casually took them off and tossed them into a nearby trash can. As I turned, I overheard some passersby gossiping about us. They were curious about our tangled relationship. One person leaned in to listen closer, but a friend pulled her back. “Are you crazy? Didn’t you see the woman next to him? She’s the group’s heiress.” Before I could react, Chelsea scoffed. She shot me a disdainful look, her face full of scorn. “What heiress? She’s just a useless nobody, kicked out of her family, clinging to the Sterling name!” “An old, fading wife, only getting a second glance from her husband because of the baby in her belly.” “What’s there to be afraid of? I despise parasitic old women like her!” A parasite? So what did that make Julian, who had built his empire on my back? And what about Chelsea, Julian’s kept woman? When did they hook up? Was it the first time I miscarried? Was it when I drank myself to stomach bleeding to help Julian secure a deal? Or when Julian was being hunted by his enemies, and I took a bullet for him, falling into a coma? It had been too long; I couldn’t remember. I only remembered Julian getting involved with this nurse during my hospital stay. Their passion was a raging inferno, their love a whirlwind. During that time, I often received texts from Chelsea. I lay in my hospital bed, pale and alone. Chelsea lay on a different bed, flushed with passion, my husband wrapped around her. All these years, Chelsea was still this arrogant. It was clear how much Julian had spoiled her. But it didn’t matter. Once I left, they could be together openly and without shame.

I ignored the bickering couple and walked into the operating room. The doctor regretfully told me, “I’m so sorry, your body is too fragile, and your emotions are unstable. We couldn’t save the baby.” I gave a bitter laugh. “It’s fine.” The doctor looked startled. “You’re still young, you’ll have other chances…” Would I really have other chances? This wasn’t my first miscarriage. The first time was when I was 20. Back then, we were both dirt poor, squeezed into a basement apartment, unable to afford a warm coat in winter. I collapsed from the cold on my way to deliver food to Julian. When I woke up, the baby was gone. And my body was damaged. I was young then, and with proper care, I could have recovered. But we were too poor. Busy making money, busy surviving. By the time our business finally showed some promise, I was busy catching him cheating, busy fighting off mistresses. In and out, it dragged on until now. In the beginning, Julian had nothing. He knelt by my bed and said, “Aurora, I will definitely make something of myself and make up for all your suffering.” Later, Julian became successful. He held his mistress, looking at me. “Aurora, I know everything you’ve done for me.” “I promise you, I won’t let any woman take your place, and I won’t let them have a child before you do.” “Everything I have will only be for our flesh and blood.” Now… I looked out the window at the two of them, tightly embracing. I shook my head, a bitter smile on my face. “Forget it. I’m leaving soon, and a child would be inconvenient.” “Besides, Julian smokes, drinks, and has a chaotic private life. How could a child born in such circumstances be healthy?” My father also built his empire with my mother’s help. After he became successful, he had a string of mistresses. Because of this, I yearned for a genuine connection even more. But the first time I caught him cheating, Julian showed no remorse. Instead, he righteously told me, “Aurora, what’s your problem?” “Your dad has more than one lover; what’s wrong with me occasionally having some fun outside?” “Think about what your mother did!” “You grew up around them, immersed in that world, how have you still not learned how to be a socialite?” He used my most private pain as a weapon to hurt me. At that moment, I knew. Our love had reached its end. But because of that ten-year pact, I couldn’t leave Julian. I could only watch him shamelessly insult my dignity and trample my feelings. The wedding I had fought so hard for became a cage. The love that once ran so deep became Julian’s weapon against me. I had eaten enough of the bitter fruit of family and love. Looking at the city gradually being swallowed by darkness, I couldn’t help but wonder. Julian and I, why did we end up like this? Was it because of Chelsea? Or was it… that incident?

It didn’t matter anymore. Whatever the reason, betrayal and hurt were undeniable facts. I hailed a cab, intending to go home and pack. While waiting, I saw Julian at the crossroads. He and Chelsea were strolling hand-in-hand down the bustling street, looking like a couple deeply in love, sweet and charming. Chelsea kissed Julian’s cheek and giggled. “I had my check-up today, and the baby is very healthy.” “The doctor says it’s a boy! In five more months, you’ll have a son!” Julian smiled. He thoughtfully took off his coat and draped it over Chelsea. “You silly girl, you’re pregnant and still don’t take care of yourself.” “I bought you a villa in Bali. Move in with me. Winter here is too cold; I’m afraid you won’t be able to bear it.” Then Julian prattled on about many other things. He spoke of pregnancy precautions. He spoke of postpartum care methods. He said he would do everything he could to protect this child. Those words, mixed with the cold wind of winter, slowly tore my heart apart, piece by piece. Finally, Julian took Chelsea’s hand. He fastened the lucky charm I had once bought for our child around Chelsea’s neck. “I’ve named our baby Lucky. Lucky and prosperous.” That was the name I had chosen for my first child. That was the eternal wound in my life. I remembered Julian and I, once truly in love. But now, Julian was giving that gift to another woman. He was making up for his failings to me and our child by showering his mistress and illegitimate son with attention. How absurd and tragic. I took a deep breath, trying to pretend I didn’t care. But Chelsea, sharp-eyed, spotted me. “Julian, your old hag is here to check up on you again.” “Honestly, some people just need to stop seeking attention, okay?” She fiddled with the lucky charm, scornfully adding, “Your useless dead child, how could he compare to the baby in my belly?” “Instead of crying here, why don’t you go home and rest? You’re old enough, even if you manage to get pregnant with a second child, it’s not certain you’ll carry it to term.” “If you lose this baby, Julian won’t even look at you!” She was trying to provoke me, hoping I’d miscarry again and lose my child. But what she didn’t know was that the child was already gone. And I no longer needed Julian’s love. When morning came, I would leave this place. By then, Julian and I would both return to our original paths. He would become that penniless nobody again. I took one last look at Julian, completely without attachment. “Julian, you will regret this.” “Because you forgot who gave you everything you have.” Julian tried to say something, but Chelsea held him back. He looked back again and again but ultimately didn’t follow. Moonlight streamed down, casting silver-grey light everywhere. I dragged my weary body away, alone. In the last few hours, I paid off the housekeeper, Maria, and asked her to dispose of all my old things with Julian. Then, I waited alone at the airport for dawn. As the sun began to rise, a private jet landed before me. “Miss Sterling, I’ve come to take you home.” The plane flew over the city, letting all the past condense into nothingness. From now on, Julian and I would be separated by an ocean, never to meet again in this life. *** Julian woke suddenly from a nightmare. He remembered that sorrowful look in my eyes from last night, and a sudden unease settled in his heart. He picked up his phone, intending to make a call. But the breaking news headline caught his attention— “Heiress to Fortune Weds Shipping Tycoon.” “Numerous corporations announce divestment, Sterling Group faces severe repercussions.”

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My husband treats me as if I do not exist unless he needs someone to blame. My son has learned to follow his lead and sees my boundaries as hostility. I work alone, parent alone, and fight alone. When I discover Dan drinking with other women while claiming he is the victim, I understand the dynamic fully. This marriage no longer protects me or my child. It only drains me. Filing for divorce becomes the first decision I make for myself in years. Sunday nights are the hardest. Tyler is dragging his feet, crying over homework that’s due tomorrow, while Dan is lost in his own world, gaming with his headphones on, utterly indifferent. No one wants anything to do with me. Tyler is glaring at me, teary-eyed from my scolding; Dan is pretending not to notice, clearly annoyed by my presence. I’m left standing by the table, clearing up their plates, whispering to myself that it’s all my own fault. But my heart aches. Late at night, Dan slips away to the study, Tyler falls asleep, tear stains on his cheeks, and I find myself in the bathroom, looking at my own weary reflection. This is the third month of Dan’s silent treatment. Three long months—I can hardly remember why we’re fighting. Under the same roof, he hasn’t said a word to me. I refuse to give in; I’m convinced he’s at fault. But sleeplessness nags at me. I walk to Tyler’s room to tidy up his backpack. And there, on his desk, I see the new journal I got him. Under “Rewards,” written in that innocent, clumsy handwriting, I see: “I wish Mom would just disappear.”

I blink, thinking I’ve read it wrong. I pick up the journal and take it to the living room, reading that line again. “I wish Mom would just disappear. “She’s so scary when she yells at Dad; she chased him away.” I collapse on the couch, numb, feeling an overwhelming, dull ache settle in. The study light flips off as Dan emerges, grinning. The moment he sees me, his usual icy expression returns. He doesn’t say a word, just picks up his car keys from the coffee table. As he walks past, I catch a whiff of his cologne—Vanilla Musk. It’s the same scent I picked out for him in college when we started dating. Back then, he was a tech geek, always in black-framed glasses and a white T-shirt, hopelessly oblivious to style. I remember teasing him, “A little cologne goes a long way with girls.” He promised he’d keep it because I liked it. And he’s used it ever since. The familiar scent stirs memories of who he was, of our better times, and of the family I desperately want to keep whole for Tyler’s sake. The pain my son caused me rushes back, and without thinking, I stand up and grab Dan’s arm. “Dan, please, can we talk?” Tears silently slip down my face as I stand behind him. He jerks his arm away. I notice his phone screen: he’s on a call. Who is he talking to this late at night, wearing cologne? “Dan, are you coming down? I’ve been craving BBQ all week!” A girl’s voice comes through, laughing flirtatiously. That soft, sweet tone brings back all the reasons we’re in this fight. I turn to leave, but Dan grabs my arm again. With a smirk, he says, “Beg me, and I’ll stay with you and Tyler tonight.” Dan has always reveled in the moment I give in, that satisfaction of seeing me break, especially now that some young girl is competing for his attention. The way he stays—like he’s doing us a favor.

I laughed, but not in amusement. “Beg you? As if I made Tyler all by myself. You’re his father, too, aren’t you? “Am I the only one responsible for him? Don’t you care at all? “Do you even realize the toll this is taking on him?” Dan’s expression hardened, his mouth a thin line. Like I was some madwoman, he grabbed his jacket and slammed the door behind him. Tyler’s journal, with its wish for my disappearance, was still lying on the couch. Dan had left his study lights on as usual. He never bothers with issues—either saying something sharp to rile me up or storming out the door, leaving me to pick up the pieces. The slam of the door woke Tyler. Barefoot, he padded out of his room, staring at the direction his dad left. He came over, picked up his journal from the couch, frowning. “Mom, why do you always make Dad so mad?” I didn’t answer. Downstairs, the sound of Dan’s car engine roared, and the car drove off. Guess I’ll be biking Tyler to school again tomorrow. I looked at the journal clenched in his little hand, at the eyes he inherited from his father. For the first time, I realized just how trapped I’ve been all these years.

I managed to make it to my bedroom, collapsed onto the bed. Closing my eyes, I kept seeing, “Mom would just disappear.” Those four words. Honestly, I’d never screamed at him hysterically. In fact, I went out of my way to avoid conflict, humbling myself to keep Dan around for Tyler’s sake. I pleaded with Dan to come home, to spend time with his own son. Sleep was impossible. My phone lit up on the nightstand; it was a message from Linda. “I heard Dan storm out again. Did you two argue? Are you okay?” I met Linda through Craigslist, where I sold handmade crafts after Dan cut off my access to our joint account during one of his silent treatments. I had no income, so I took on small jobs to make ends meet. Eventually, we discovered we were neighbors. She even bought from me, supporting my small business and showing care. As I heard Tyler’s door close, I texted back: “Thanks, Linda. I’m fine.” The next morning, I woke up completely drained, my eyes swollen. Dan had returned. The scent of Vanilla Musk was barely there, drowned in alcohol. His gaze lingered on me for a moment, then shifted away. This wasn’t the silent treatment. This time, he muttered from the bathroom doorway, scornfully. “Don’t you think this look is a bit dramatic?” He expected me to lash out, to scream and cry so he could leave, feeling justified. But I’d grown tired. I didn’t react. He seemed surprised, watching me with something like uncertainty. He walked into Tyler’s room and spoke in that bright, affectionate tone. “Hey, buddy, Daddy’s taking you to school today.” The two of them left hand in hand, happily chatting, his kindness for Tyler a sharp contrast to his coldness with me. Neither of them thought to ask how I was doing. It felt like two knives twisting in my chest.

Taking out the trash, I ran into Linda. She noticed my eyes and took me inside, rolling a cold spoon over the bruises under my eyes. She looked at me, her own eyes brimming with tears. “Does it hurt?” Her kindness brought back memories of Dan from when we were first married. Back then, Dan and I had nothing. Living in San Francisco was expensive, and we could only afford a tiny basement apartment on the outskirts. Our bathroom and kitchen were communal, and we slept on a small twin bed. One day, after cooking in the shared kitchen, I accidentally ran into someone in the hall. In my reflex to avoid them, I burned the back of my hand with hot food. When Dan came home, I wore gloves to hide it, not wanting him to worry, but he noticed immediately. I tried to laugh it off, saying it didn’t hurt. Dan, frantic, rushed to get me first aid. He cried so hard, his tears wouldn’t stop. I teased him, saying, “What kind of man cries so much?” He replied through sobs, “Evely, I’ll make sure you never suffer again!” That night, he held me close, promising all the beautiful things we’d do together. “Evely, I won’t ever let you get hurt again.” I believed then he truly loved me. But when did he change? Now, it feels like we’re two ticking time bombs, bound together, ready to explode at the slightest friction. Except Dan is a dud—no noise, just a silent smoke that fills every corner, choking me in fear, making me scream. Returning home, I found the place empty. The kitchen was cold, Tyler’s dirty clothes scattered across the wet bathroom floor, muddy footprints tracked through the living room. I sank onto the couch and opened my laptop. I started drafting the divorce papers. I didn’t lack qualifications compared to Dan. Before becoming a stay-at-home mom, I was a college grad, passed the bar, and worked as an attorney for two years. I once earned a good salary, winning cases and thriving in my career. Then, I got pregnant. Dan convinced me to quit and focus on raising Tyler. At first, he’d said: “When your maternity leave’s over and Tyler’s a little older, we can hire a nanny. You can get back to work whenever you’re ready.” Later, he changed it to: “Tyler’s used to you now, and I’m in a career upswing. Going back would mean hiring a nanny, and her salary would eat up yours. It just doesn’t make sense for us financially. “Let’s wait until Tyler’s a bit older.” My son hugged mine and babbled for mommy. I went soft. Blame me for not insisting. Thinking about it now, Dan’s cold violence appeared a little bit from that time. Having finished drafting the divorce agreement, I noticed it was almost evening. Dan still hadn’t come home with Tyler.

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