Author: Momo Chan

I found a secret dark room in my husband, Dr. Julian Thorne’s, study. Inside, dozens of glass jars held specimens of my body parts. From a fingernail he’d snipped when we first held hands, to a strand of hair he’d collected after our intimacy last night. And in the center of the room, a recording device looped my own voice. “Help me, Julian, please, no, it hurts…” It was the recording of my pleas from the operating room when I had my unexpected miscarriage last month. Just as I was about to flee, a cold touch grazed the back of my neck. “Elara, you finally found it.” “Every time you cry, I want to turn you into the most perfect specimen.” My blood ran cold. Suddenly, another woman’s seductive laugh cut into the recording: “Julian, when will you get me your wife’s vocal cord specimen?” I spun around. Dr. Julian Thorne stood at the dark room’s entrance, a scalpel in his hand. “You… you’ve been collecting these all this time?” My voice trembled. “Since our wedding day.” He took a step forward, his movements silent on the floor. “You said you loved all of me, including my professional habits, remember?” I was a medical student, and he was the youngest forensic professor. Our union had once been called a match made in heaven. But now, I just felt sick to my stomach. “What about that recording?” I pointed at the device in the center of the room. “The recording from the day of my miscarriage, why is Serena Bellwether’s voice on it?” Serena Bellwether was his ex-girlfriend. She had returned from overseas three months ago and started working at the same hospital. Julian stopped, the tip of the scalpel resting against his fingertip. “Serena is just interested in my research.” He said it nonchalantly. “She wanted a complete vocal cord specimen for a teaching model. I thought yours would be perfect.” “Perfect?” I almost laughed through my tears. “Julian, I’m your wife!” “So?” He tilted his head, a dismissive smile playing on his lips. “Elara, you’re too emotional. Science requires sacrifice.” He took another step closer. I instinctively recoiled, my lower back hitting the cabinet displaying finger specimens. That little finger in the jar still had my favorite nude pink nail polish on it. It was from a cut I’d accidentally gotten while cooking last month. “You want to turn me into a specimen? Like those corpses?” Julian smiled. But now, I just felt a chill run down my spine. “You’re different from them.” He spoke softly. “You’re a living work of art, and I will make you my most perfect masterpiece.” His hand reached for me. I screamed, shoved him away, and rushed for the dark room door. But it was locked. “Let me go!” I pounded frantically on the door. “Julian, you’re insane! This is illegal!” He hugged me from behind, his lips against my ear. “The law only protects the living.” “And here, to me, you’re already a beautiful corpse awaiting dissection.” I struggled violently, my nails scratching his hand. Beads of blood surfaced, and he actually lowered his head to lick them away, his eyes filled with a disturbing fascination. “Even your struggle is beautiful.” He sighed. “Unfortunately, time’s up.” Before I could ask, I felt a sharp sting on my neck. A needle pierced my skin. A cold liquid pushed into my veins, and my limbs began to go numb. Before my vision blurred, I saw the dark room slowly open. Serena walked in, wearing a nurse’s uniform and pushing a cart of surgical instruments. She leaned over me, her smile cruel. “Elara, don’t worry, Julian’s technique is excellent, it won’t hurt.” “Once you’re a specimen, you can stay by his side forever.” Julian took the scalpel she offered, its blade resting against my throat. I opened my mouth, but no sound came out. In my final moments, I heard him say: “In your next life, don’t be my wife again.” “What’s too easily obtained is always tempting to destroy.”

When I opened my eyes again, I was lying in our master bedroom. My body felt no numbness. I sat up abruptly and rushed to the mirror. My neck was intact, no knife marks. “Elara?” Julian’s voice came from the bedroom doorway. I flinched. He was holding a breakfast tray, his eyes filled with gentle concern. “Had a nightmare?” He put down the tray and walked over, reaching to touch my forehead. I instinctively recoiled. His hand froze mid-air, his eyes darkening slightly. “What’s wrong?” “N-nothing.” I forced myself to calm down. “Just dreamt something bad.” “What did you dream about?” Julian sat on the edge of the bed and took my hand. “I dreamt you killed me.” I stared into his eyes, saying each word deliberately. Julian paused, then laughed. “Don’t be silly. How could I ever hurt you?” “You’re my wife, the person I love most.” His eyes were sincere when he said this, even showing a hint of doting affection. Before, I would have thrown myself into his arms. But now, I just wanted to vomit. “Where’s Serena?” I suddenly asked. “Was she here last night?” Julian’s expression froze instantly. He frowned. “She was on duty at the hospital last night. Why would she be here? You’re overthinking things again.” “I heard her voice.” I insisted. “In your study.” “My study?” Julian stood up and walked towards the door. “I’ll go check. Maybe you had a night terror and imagined things.” He left the bedroom, and I immediately followed him. Julian pushed open the study door. It was neat as usual. I walked to where he had stood earlier, carefully examining the bookshelf. In my memory, the dark room was behind the third shelf. I reached out to push it, but it wouldn’t budge. Julian hugged me from behind, resting his chin on my shoulder. “What’s really going on with you? Do you want to go to the hospital for a check-up?” My body stiffened. “Maybe I really am just too tired.” I forced myself to relax. “I have class today, I’ll go get ready.” On the way to school, I was completely on edge. “Elara!” Someone tapped my shoulder from behind. I nearly jumped out of my skin. I turned to see my friend, Chloe. “What’s wrong with you? You look awful.” She looked at me worriedly. “I heard you had a miscarriage last week. Haven’t you recovered yet?” I froze. “Miscarriage? Last week?” “Yeah, last Wednesday.” Chloe looked at me strangely. “Dr. Thorne even took time off to be with you. We were all so jealous.” I grabbed her hand. “What’s the date today?” “April 18th. Why?” In my memory, yesterday was April 25th. I had gone back a week. I couldn’t focus in class all day. My mind was filled with those glass jars and Julian with the scalpel. When the bell rang for dismissal, my phone vibrated. It was a message from Julian: “Serena is treating us to dinner tonight to celebrate her promotion to attending physician. Remember to come.” I stared at my phone screen, my fingers cold. If my memory was real, this dinner was a trap. If I didn’t go, Julian would get suspicious. After a long hesitation, I replied with an “Okay.”

When I arrived at the restaurant, they were already there. They sat by the window, heads bowed, looking at the same phone. Serena was shaking with laughter, and a smile played on Julian’s lips too. The sight stung my eyes. “Elara’s here.” Serena saw me first and waved enthusiastically. “Come quickly, sit down!” “Have you been waiting long?” I sat down next to Julian. “No, we just got here too.” Julian naturally wrapped his arm around my waist and kissed my forehead. “Why do you still look unwell? Didn’t you get enough rest?” His actions were gentle and intimate. But I felt his hand linger a little too long on my waist. Like he was measuring me. “Maybe the medication hasn’t worn off yet.” I said blandly, staring into his eyes. Julian’s smile froze for a moment. “What medication?” Serena interjected, her eyes probing. “Post-miscarriage recovery meds.” I shifted my gaze. “Julian prescribed them. He said they were good for my body.” The truth was mixed. Julian had indeed prescribed the medicine, but I knew its real effect. It made me drowsy; it was probably more than just for recovery. “Dr. Thorne is so thoughtful.” Serena propped her chin on her hand, her gaze lingering on Julian’s face. “Whoever marries you will be incredibly happy.” Julian didn’t refute her, just smiled. During dinner, Serena kept talking about amusing hospital stories. Julian listened intently, the atmosphere so harmonious it was as if *they* were the couple. Serena suddenly turned to me. “I heard you’re preparing for your forensic certification exam? If you need materials, I can give them to you. Julian helped me compile a complete set back then.” “No, thanks.” I said calmly. “Julian already prepared them for me.” “Mine are different though.” Serena blinked. “Mine have Julian’s handwritten notes, lots of exclusive insights!” She was provoking me. I looked at Julian, but he was just cutting his steak, not even looking up. “Those are old materials. Elara can just use the new ones.” Halfway through the meal, Serena said she needed to use the restroom. As she stood up, she knocked over a red wine glass, spilling all the wine onto my dress. “Oh, I’m so sorry!” She exclaimed, “I didn’t mean to! Elara, are you okay?” Julian immediately helped me wipe it off. But his movements suddenly paused, his gaze fixed on my calf. I looked down. There was a faint scar there, from a fall when I was a child. In my memory from last night, the skin in this spot should have already been made into a specimen. “What’s wrong?” Julian snapped back to attention, his eyes complex. “Nothing, just remembered that scar of yours. It’s quite unique.” His finger traced the scar. The touch was gentle, but it sent shivers down my spine. “I’ll go clean up.” I pushed Julian’s hand away and walked towards the restroom. “Elara.” Serena’s voice came from behind. I looked up, seeing her leaning against the doorframe in the mirror. “Yes?” “Just wanted to remind you.” She smiled at me. “Some things aren’t yours, and it’s pointless to force them.” “Like what?” I turned around, facing her directly. “Like Julian.” Serena took two steps closer, lowering her voice. “Why do you think he married you? Because you look like me, your voice sounds like mine, even the way you cry is like mine.” “He’s using you as my stand-in, silly girl.” Her words were like daggers, piercing my deepest fears. Instead of breaking down, I smiled. “Is that so? Then why didn’t he just marry you directly?” Serena’s expression twisted for a moment. She leaned into my ear, her breath chilling. “Because he couldn’t bear to turn me into a specimen and display me in his dark room.”

When we left the restaurant, Julian’s car was already parked at the entrance. “Where’s Serena?” “She has her own car.” Julian got into the driver’s seat and leaned over to fasten my seatbelt. “What do you want to do tonight? See a movie or go home and rest?” His fingers brushed my collarbone, lingering for a second. Again, that measuring touch. “Let’s go home, I’m tired.” “Elara, you seem a bit off today.” He suddenly said. “Do I?” I looked out at the fleeting streetlights. “You’ve been avoiding me since this morning.” Julian’s voice was soft, yet it carried an oppressive weight. “Did Serena say something to you?” I turned, looking directly into his eyes: “She said I was her stand-in.” Julian’s fingers tightened on the steering wheel, his knuckles turning white. The car braked sharply at a red light. “You believed her?” His voice was low. “I don’t know what to believe, Julian. Do you love me?” I had asked him this question many times. Before, he would always kiss me gently and say, “Of course I do.” But this time, he was silent. The red light turned green, and the cars behind us honked impatiently. Julian restarted the car, and after a long moment, he said: “Yes.” “But there are many kinds of love, Elara.” “My love for you might not be what you’re looking for.” His words were ambiguous, but they confirmed my suspicions. Back home, Julian said he was going to his study to prepare for tomorrow’s class. I watched him pause briefly in front of the bookshelf, then push aside a thick medical dictionary. The bookshelf silently slid open a crack. I dug my nails into my palms, using the pain to stay alert. After he entered the dark room and the bookshelf closed, I quietly crept to the study door. Faintly, I could hear voices from inside. “She’s starting to suspect something.” Serena’s voice. “At the restaurant today, the way she looked at me was off.” “Your provocations were too obvious.” Julian said, his tone cold. “I told you not to tip her off.” “Just a few more days, until I collect the last of the data.” “Are you sure it will work this time? Didn’t it fail last time?” “Last time was an accident.” Julian’s voice suddenly turned cold. “Her pregnancy messed up my plans, all her body data changed. But now she’s back in optimal condition.” “So that’s why you made me provoke her miscarriage?” Serena asked. “You’re really ruthless, Julian. You’d even abandon your own child.” “Science requires sacrifice.” Julian repeated the chilling words. “Besides, we can always have another child later. A perfect specimen, once missed, is gone forever.” I slid down to the floor, leaning against the door, my hands and feet icy cold. Tears streamed silently down my face, but I bit my lip hard, refusing to make a sound. “So when do you plan to make your move?” “Tomorrow night.” Julian’s voice was excited. “I’ll inject her with the modified anesthetic. That way, she can experience the entire process while conscious, but unable to resist.” “The vocal cords are yours. The rest is all mine.” “Deal.” The conversation in the dark room continued, but I couldn’t bear to listen anymore. I rushed into the bathroom and vomited violently into the toilet. Wiping away my tears, I picked up a scalpel with trembling hands, aiming it at my heart. The moment the blade pierced my heart, I showed a twisted smile. “You want my body as a specimen? Then I’ll show you both that the living are far more terrifying than the dead.”

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My husband’s secretary has been spending wildly with my credit card, and she even called me a useless housewife at a French restaurant. Furious, I froze that card, leaving her unable to pay the bill. The restaurant manager had her sent straight to the police station. When my husband found out, he quickly explained with a smile: “She’s new to the corporate world. She doesn’t know the rules yet. I’ll teach her a lesson.” Later, on my birthday, my husband took me to that same French restaurant. After ordering a table full of expensive wine and dishes, he said he needed to step out to take a call. But I waited until nearly closing time, and he never came back. Just as I pulled out my card to pay, the restaurant manager told me: “Miss Serena, your credit card has been frozen.” “Frozen?” This was the card Callum gave me. Before we left, he even took my card away, saying that since it was my birthday, he had to be the one to pay. I was so touched at the time, secretly congratulating myself for finding such a good husband. But now he’s nowhere to be found, and he hasn’t answered any of the dozens of calls I’ve made. If this card doesn’t work, I’m going to be in serious trouble. The manager’s expression shifted from respectful to impatient as he looked at me. “Miss Serena, do you have any other card you can use?” “Let me be clear. We don’t allow people to dine and dash here. You knew that from last month, didn’t you?” Of course I remembered. Last month, Callum’s little secretary used the card he gave her to spend recklessly and called me a useless trophy wife. Could it be… An ominous feeling crept up my spine, making me suspect this was Callum’s way of getting revenge for his secretary. Just as that thought crossed my mind, I heard the sound of heels clicking outside. I quickly turned to look and saw Callum walking in with his arm around his secretary, who was glaring at me with pure hatred. Behind them followed a group of friends, all wearing expressions like they were about to watch a show. “Serena, don’t you just love punishing people who can’t pay their bills?” “Well, now you can experience firsthand what it’s like when you can’t pay.” As soon as he finished speaking, the whole room erupted. “I heard this Serena came from a poor family. She just got lucky that Mr. Callum took a liking to her. Now her own husband is here with his new flame to watch her humiliation.” “Ha ha ha ha! See that? This is what happens when you climb the social ladder using just your pretty face.” “Exactly! How long can her youth and beauty last? When a rich man finds a younger, prettier girl, that’s when her life of luxury comes to an end.” I slowly clenched my fists, the rage from being humiliated boiling over instantly. Just as I suspected, Callum had set me up to get revenge for his secretary. Callum held Lily’s hand and walked to the front, pulling out a chair to sit down. “Lily, don’t worry.” “However Serena humiliated you that day, I’ll make her pay back double.” Lily’s face lit up with delight, and she instinctively turned and kissed Callum on the lips. “Thank you, Callum.” Then she looked at me with a provocative stare: “Serena, you’re nothing but a pretty face. What gives you the right to freeze my card?” As soon as she finished speaking, she grabbed an expensive bottle of red wine and smashed it at my feet. “Crash!” Wine splashed onto my face, making me look even more pathetic. “Ha ha ha ha! You useless piece of trash! Now I have Callum to pay for me. I can smash as many bottles as I want and he’ll cover it. But you? You’re screwed.” Callum also looked at me with mockery: “Don’t glare at me like you want to kill me. If you have money, you can pay and leave.” “Ha ha ha ha! Like she has any money to pay!” “Those dishes and the opened bottles of wine add up to an amount that’s way beyond her reach.” “She’s always lived off Mr. Callum’s money. Without him, she’s nothing.”

To completely humiliate me, Callum stood up with a smile and swept his cold gaze across the room. “Anyone who dares to help Serena out of this situation is my enemy and will be making an enemy of me.” Everyone knew the Reeves family was the wealthiest in Manhattan. No one dared to offend Callum. A few business partners who had good relationships with me were about to stand up to help me out. But when they heard Callum’s words, they quickly sat back down, afraid Callum would notice their movement. “See that? Mr. Reeves is serious.” “He loves his little secretary more than his wife!” “Right! I thought since they were legally married, Mr. Reeves was just angry for the moment. But this is real.” “With his threat, who would dare help Serena?” I lost control in my anger and walked over to grab Callum’s hand, demanding answers. “Callum, are you really going to humiliate me for this woman?” Callum slapped me across the face with his other hand. “Slap!” “Yes!” I couldn’t believe it as I turned back to look at Callum. We’d been married for three years and were known as a loving couple. He was the one who pursued me when I first came to Manhattan. At our wedding, he made vows, saying he would be loyal to me forever, never betray me, and love me with his life until the end of time. But now? It’s only been three years, and all those vows, all those beautiful memories, have been destroyed by his cold, cruel actions. Just like outsiders said, someone who married into a wealthy family based on looks has no dignity. Once a younger, prettier mistress appears by his side, the luxurious life of being a wealthy man’s wife comes to an end. But Callum had no idea that when I willingly married him years ago, it wasn’t for his family’s money. It was because I loved him. Facing my bloodshot eyes, Callum pulled out a tissue and disdainfully turned to wipe the hand he’d just used to hit me. “You knew I cared about that secretary, but you had to go and freeze her card.” “Serena, if you can’t pay the bill next, I’ll have the manager strip you naked and make you run out of this restaurant.” As soon as he said this, the whole room cheered, everyone staring at me with mocking and greedy eyes. “Mr. Reeves is really willing to go this far. For his new lover, he’s making his own wife strip naked.” “Right?” “Soon she won’t be his wife anymore. Looks like after tonight, Serena will be kicked to the curb.” “Ha ha ha ha! Let’s stop talking and just watch the show.” The middle-aged wealthy men looked at me with amusement and mockery. “Tsk tsk tsk, I want to see if she has a good body. Ha ha ha ha!” My face burned with the fire of humiliation. Before we left, Callum took all my cards, making me let my guard down. All I had left was this expensive designer dress I was wearing. I had no money to pay the bill. And my phone had died. I realized now that Callum had planned all of this.

“It’s getting late, Serena. The restaurant is waiting for you to pay so they can close.” “Don’t tell me you can’t pay!” “What are we going to do? If you can’t pay, you’ll be detained and sent to the police station. Oh wait, isn’t that what you did to me?” Lily pulled out a cigarette, put it in her mouth, lit it, and started smoking. She didn’t forget to blow the smoke in my face, her arrogant expression making me unable to resist raising my hand to swipe at her. The scene instantly became chaotic. Callum, feeling sorry for Lily, quickly had his bodyguards rush over and throw me out. “Serena, stop it right now!” “What? You’re allowed to play with others, but they can’t play with you in return?” I stared at Callum with bloodshot eyes. The only reason he was able to rise to the top as the wealthiest man in Manhattan in just three years was because of my help. I used my family’s power and connections to help him fight his way to the top. Even dangerous people from the underground who wanted to cause him trouble backed off because of me. I had planned to tell Callum about my background tonight on my birthday, to tell him I wasn’t just a commoner. I was the heir to the first of New York’s four founding families. I also planned to take him home to meet my father and mother. I just didn’t expect people’s hearts could change so quickly. I misjudged him. I overestimated his character. “Callum, are you really going to make me leave this restaurant humiliated and disgraced?” Callum laughed coldly: “What else? You think I set all this up for nothing?” Lily, emboldened by the bodyguards, punched me in the face: “You bitch! Either you can’t pay and get sent to jail, or you strip naked, bite this piece of steak, and crawl out of here on all fours like a dog.” “Oh, and the difference between the two? The first one you get to keep your clothes on. The second one you’re naked and have no dignity left. Ha ha ha! Hurry up and choose. I can’t wait!” Facing dozens of pairs of eyes watching this spectacle, I clenched my fists and looked at Callum without any emotion. “Fine. Since this is what you chose, bankruptcy is on you.” As soon as I finished speaking, Lily burst out laughing. “Ah? Ha ha ha!” “Has this woman been reading too many romance novels? Does she think she’s some hidden identity billionaire?” “This woman must be so angry she’s lost her mind.” Callum also glared at me angrily. He thought I was lying too. He casually picked up a plate of food and threw it at me: “Stop your delusions about making the Reeves family go bankrupt. You? As if!” “Think about how you’re going to solve your current problem!” “Manager!” The manager understood and immediately walked over with security guards, speaking to me coldly: “Miss Serena, will you be paying cash or having someone pay for you?” Out of professional courtesy, the manager still didn’t humiliate me completely. I scanned the entire room and finally looked at a business partner I’d worked with before. We met when I was negotiating projects on behalf of the Reeves family. I walked toward her. As soon as she saw me coming her way, she quickly stood up and backed away. “Serena, don’t come near me. I don’t dare pay for you…” “Don’t be afraid. I’m not asking you to pay for me. I just need to borrow your phone.” “Can I?” “I just need to make one call to have a friend bring money over to pay the bill…” “Ha ha ha! This woman is still acting! Who in Manhattan would dare bring money over to help you pay?” “Go ahead and call. We’ll give her another half hour. If time runs out and she still can’t pay, I’ll have these fat old men strip her naked. What a billionaire has used must be good quality, right?”

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I bombed my SATs and didn’t get into college. Meanwhile, my cousin Clara got accepted into an Ivy League. When my professor mother heard the news, she was so furious she literally coughed up blood. “If I’d known you’d turn out to be this useless, I should’ve just let your aunt swap you when you were born. I wish Clara was my daughter instead.” When I was born, Aunt Helen gave birth to Clara at the same hospital. While my mom was unconscious after delivery, my aunt bribed a nurse to switch us. My crying woke Mom up. Like a protective wolf, she ignored her postpartum injuries and fought to get me back. But now, Mom said she regretted it. My depression spiraled. I jumped from the balcony. When I woke up, I’d gone back to the day the nurse tried to switch us. This time, I stayed quiet. Because this was what Mom wanted. She didn’t pick me this time. But later, Mom held my emaciated body and cried tears of regret. She just wanted to hear me call her “Mom” one more time. Falling from a building hurts. My head felt like it had split into pieces. Before I could process what happened, I found myself as a baby again. I could see my mother’s pale, sleeping face right beside me. The air was thick with the smell of blood and disinfectant. I’d been reborn to the moment right after my birth. Suddenly, a nurse in white appeared at the door, holding another red-faced baby. She moved quickly and quietly, swapping me with the infant in her arms, then rushed toward the door with me. I remembered—Mom had told this story countless times in my previous life. She said I’d almost been switched, but at the crucial moment, I’d cried loudly and woken her up. Mom got me back, but the violent movement caused severe tearing. She had to stay in the hospital for three months and developed an embarrassing condition. When she got emotional, she’d leak urine. For a distinguished professor who valued perfection and dignity, this was unbearable trauma. But I’d been reborn. I could change everything. I kept my mouth shut tight. I wouldn’t make a sound. But unexpectedly, the baby on the bed started crying. The nurse holding me froze. I whipped my head toward Mom’s direction. The room was dark. From this distance, I couldn’t see clearly, but the person on the bed didn’t move. The nurse bolted for the door. In her panic, she didn’t control her footsteps, but even as she burst through the door, Mom still didn’t wake up. The nurse hid outside, watching nervously. She saw Mom sit up and skillfully pick up the baby, humming a lullaby. The melody drifted out of the room, and my whole body went rigid. Mom didn’t know any lullabies at this point. In my past life, when I was three and wouldn’t eat, Mom had specifically learned that song to coax me. So Mom had been reborn too, hadn’t she? She’d pretended to sleep, waiting for the nurse to finish the swap. So what Mom said in my past life wasn’t just angry words. She really did want Clara as her daughter. Mom didn’t want me anymore. No matter how heartbroken I was, I was still switched and given to Aunt Helen. Aunt Helen didn’t care for me the way she’d cared for Clara in my previous life. Because I was just a fake. She even deliberately collected her breast milk. “If Victoria runs low on milk, she can give the baby mine. Can’t let her daughter go hungry.” I was so hungry I could barely stay awake. Finally, someone pried my mouth open and stuck a bottle in. I sucked once and realized it wasn’t milk—just bland rice water. When I stopped after a few sips, Aunt Helen pinched my bottom hard. “How dare you be picky? Who told you to be born to Victoria? Don’t drink it then—starve to death!” I wailed from the pain. This scene would repeat often in the house. Dad’s parents were dead. He only had Aunt Helen. So after she got pregnant out of wedlock, she moved into my parents’ house. When Mom and Aunt Helen were both taking care of babies, my aunt would find ways to make me cry. I was already a premature baby. In my past life, with Mom’s careful care, I’d still grown up weak and sickly. Now, drinking rice water, I quickly got sick from malnutrition. I ran a fever and broke out in rashes. Aunt Helen ignored me, sitting on the couch drinking soup the housekeeper made. The only person who could save me—Mom—wasn’t home. That morning, Clara had choked on milk and refused to drink anymore. Mom panicked and had Dad drive them both to the hospital. Eventually, I passed out completely. Even my survival instinct faded.

I thought I would die. When I woke up, I was in the ICU. I gulped oxygen, and my body slowly regained sensation. Outside, Dad was scolding Aunt Helen so harshly she didn’t dare talk back. After that, Aunt Helen didn’t dare feed me rice water anymore, but she still couldn’t bear to waste her breast milk on me. She bought the cheapest formula instead. My life was temporarily spared. Mom named Clara after me—Clara Rivers, the name I’d had in my past life. I felt heartbroken that I’d even lost my name. Aunt Helen casually picked mine. “This one will be Mia.” Mom didn’t say much, just looked at me with complicated eyes. At six, Clara and I attended the same elementary school. Classes started at 7:30 AM. The difference was, Clara got to go to school with braids Mom had personally done, carrying a warm breakfast, riding in Dad’s car. I had to make breakfast for Aunt Helen, clean the house, and only leave with ten minutes to spare under her impatient glare, walking fifteen minutes to school. First week of school—late every single day. I had to stand during morning study hall as punishment every time. Whenever I asked to leave earlier for school, Aunt Helen would beat and scold me. That’s how I became the “bad kid” in my classmates’ eyes and the cautionary tale teachers warned others about. One day, Mom forgot some documents and came back early. She saw this exact scene: Little me standing on a stool cooking, while Aunt Helen sat in the living room watching TV, eating fruit and yelling that I was trying to starve her. Mom froze. Our eyes met. Mine were filled with tears, but also hope. Aunt Helen treated me badly because I wasn’t her child. But I was Mom’s child. The next second, Aunt Helen had her excuse ready, pulling out her so-called “tough love” philosophy. “I’m just disciplining the child. Doing hard labor at this age helps her appreciate studying later.” Mom was easily convinced. She grabbed her documents and left without looking back. I stared at her retreating figure, frozen. Then Aunt Helen beat me again. But I couldn’t feel the pain. Because my heart hurt more. In middle school, girls started developing. Aunt Helen hand-sewed four bras and put them all in Clara’s closet. When I asked for one too, her mocking gaze swept over me, and the next second she reached out and twisted my tender chest cruelly. Tears streamed down my face from the pain. She screamed: “Already acting like a slut at your age? Trying to seduce men, is that it?” I never dared ask again. I could only fold tissues flat when she wasn’t looking and tape them to myself with clear tape. It gave me a tiny bit of security. But middle school had PE class, and the uniforms were loose. When I ran, sweat loosened the tape, and the tissues fell out in front of everyone. Boys stared at me strangely. Girls wanted nothing to do with me. After that, rumors about me spread through school. When I went to the bathroom during breaks, boys would deliberately bump into me. When the teacher noticed, she contacted my guardian to come to school. I stood outside the office. When Aunt Helen arrived, she greeted me with two loud slaps across the face. Students in the hallway stopped to stare. Teachers came out of the office at the sound. My face burned. The humiliation nearly drowned me. But Aunt Helen didn’t stop. She pulled my hair and my collar, screaming: “Seducing people at your age—you’re disgusting!”

She started pulling at my shirt, trying to strip me in front of everyone. I clutched my clothes desperately, sobbing hysterically. Finally, a teacher who couldn’t stand it anymore stepped forward to stop her and brought her into the office. After calming Aunt Helen down, the teacher got to the point and pulled out my exam results. “The rumors will die down. Kids forget fast. Just buy Mia a couple of bras and it’ll be fine.” “The real issue is Mia’s grades this time… They’re not good…” When we got home, Aunt Helen took my report card to complain to Mom. “I’m so jealous you have Clara. Great grades, obedient, adorable.” “Not like Mia. Today the teacher called me to school—I’ve never been so humiliated.” Mom’s eyes flashed with relief and pride, though she offered comfort. “Learning is mostly about natural talent. She’ll get there eventually.” In Mom’s eyes, I was the one without talent. But she didn’t know—in my past life, my grades were bad because of bullying. After Mom found out and transferred me to an advanced class, my grades still didn’t improve. Because by then, my best friend Luna had already been bullied to death. This time, I swore I’d protect her. After the first monthly exam results came out, Luna was targeted again. Because she’d scored first place by a huge margin. Using my knowledge from my past life, I quickly became friends with Luna. I also discovered something shocking—the source of the bullying was Clara. Luna had been threatened to put Clara’s name on the next exam, or the bullying would continue. I gave her advice: don’t score as high next time. But keep studying hard in daily life. By the second monthly exam, Luna only scored twentieth in class. Meanwhile, my grades skyrocketed. I became second in the entire class, drawing all the fire. When I came home with my good grades, Dad, Mom, Aunt Helen, and Clara were sitting together like a tribunal. Clara had bombed this exam. She cried pitifully and implied that I’d cheated with the help of the first-place student. I didn’t care what the others thought. Even when Aunt Helen hit me with a broom, I didn’t move. I just stared at Mom without blinking. Soon, Mom looked at my report card and delivered her verdict: “She definitely cheated. You don’t have the talent. Your grades couldn’t improve this fast.” “She did something wrong. A beating will teach her a lesson.” A bitter smile twisted my lips. What was I even hoping for? In the eyes of someone who doesn’t love you, nothing you do is right. But in the middle of the night, I found a bottle of painkillers lying quietly outside my door. Mom’s regular medication. I bit my lip and brought it into my room. Aunt Helen insisted I’d cheated and deliberately starved me as punishment. I fainted from hunger at school. This time, both Aunt Helen and Mom came. Facing Mom’s questioning, Aunt Helen instinctively threw me under the bus. “She stole money from me, so I cut off her allowance. Don’t you have some savings of your own? How could you faint from hunger? I think she’s faking!” I explained weakly, my face pale: “Clara took my savings.” Mom called Clara over. Clara looked aggrieved: “You’re lying! You gave your savings to those delinquent boys in class.” With her real daughter backing her up, Aunt Helen tried to cement the accusation that I was dating delinquents. But this time, Mom stopped her with a serious expression. “Clara, you can’t say things like that. A girl’s reputation is important.” “If the meal card is lost, just report it and get a new one.” Aunt Helen was a bit afraid of Mom and mumbled into silence. They all left. I was lying there with an IV drip, eyes closed, when I felt movement under my blanket. I opened my eyes just in time to see Mom tucking money under my covers. Caught in the act, Mom jerked her hand back and turned to leave. But I called out to her: “Mom!” Her back stiffened, but she said stubbornly: “I’m not your mother. Don’t call me that.” But I persisted: “I heard Clara call Aunt Helen ‘Mom’ in private. What if there was a mistake? What if you really are my mother?” Mom’s voice sounded flustered: “Everyone wants an excellent daughter. Stop overthinking. I only have Clara as my daughter.” But “Clara Rivers” was the name you gave me in my past life, Mom. I made up my mind not to let Mom keep deceiving herself. Since she wanted an excellent daughter, I’d become excellent. Becoming first place by a landslide should be enough, right?

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “344665”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster #浪漫Romance #现实主义Realistic #重生Reborn

Everyone knew I loved Kevin to the point of self-abasement. For ten years, I swallowed every insult, shielded him from every scandal, even gave my own blood, all for him. They called me the biggest joke in high society, the woman who shamelessly clawed her way into an engagement. Kevin thought so too. Until the day of our wedding, when I smiled, slipped on the ring, and leaped from the cliff. This wedding was never about love. It was because the System told me: “Marry Kevin, and you can bring your true love back to life.” Jennifer POV Late at night, the piercing ring of the phone echoed through the apartment. I jolted awake. On the other end, Kevin’s friend shouted, his voice laced with panic. “Jennifer! Kevin’s in trouble, he’s at Downtown General!” I was there in under fifteen minutes. Outside the hospital room, Kevin’s friends were laughing and joking, their voices jarringly loud. “Kevin’s such a madman! Wing-suiting just to get Sarah’s souvenir back, and he broke his leg!” “Seriously! All for a dare! I bet Jennifer, his little shadow, is already on her way. Her nose is sharper than a bloodhound’s.” “You can’t even get rid of her. Kevin says even if he beat her with a golf club, she’d crawl back, crying.” The words seeped into my ears, but my face remained expressionless. From inside the room, I heard Kevin’s scoff, his tone dismissive and utterly confident. “She loves me too much; she’d be lost without me.” I lowered my gaze, then pushed the door open. Silence fell for a moment inside, then burst into a chorus of laughter. “Kevin’s little pet has arrived!” “Jennifer, you’re quick! We thought you’d need to cry in the car for a while.” Kevin lay on the hospital bed, his left leg in a cast. His handsome face was pale, and his eyes, when they met mine, were arrogant and icy. He didn’t speak, just lifted his chin, signaling his cronies to continue. A man stepped forward, scrutinizing me playfully. “Jennifer, Kevin got hurt because of you. He’s not happy. Shouldn’t you do something to make it up to him?” “Yeah! Do something! Do something!” The jeers grew louder. Someone pointed out the window, making a cruel suggestion. “You said you’d die for Kevin, didn’t you? If you’re so brave, blindfold yourself and walk across to that scaffolding on the building next door.” I followed his gaze. Between the two towering buildings, a narrow, temporary steel plank bridge had been erected for construction. The night wind howled, making the plank sway precariously a hundred feet up, looking fragile and deadly. The sheer malice of their request sent a chill through me. “What, too scared?” I was about to refuse when Kevin finally spoke. Leaning against the headboard, he used my decade of devotion as a weapon, each word a cruel blow. “Jennifer, you said you loved me, that you’d die for me. Didn’t you?” My heart plummeted. Our wedding was in a month. For this wedding, I had endured for ten years. I couldn’t let everything fall apart at the last minute. Under their eager gazes, I nodded softly. “Okay.” Kevin’s friends erupted in excited whistles. Someone immediately produced a black silk ribbon and roughly tied it over my eyes. Darkness enveloped me. The humiliation nearly choked me. I was pushed onto the windowsill, my trembling toes reaching for the cold steel plank. Below, Manhattan’s lights twinkled, a dizzying abyss. Around me, mocking laughter and the click of phone cameras. I took a deep breath, stepping onto the plank, inching forward. The wind picked up, violently shaking my slender body in the air. Halfway across, just as I felt I was about to be blown off, Kevin’s furious roar stopped me. “Crazy woman! Get back here!” My movements froze. “What are you waiting for? Planning to fall and die there, polluting my view?” Kevin’s voice dripped with impatience. He commanded imperiously, “Go to the Upper East Side. Line up and buy me those limited-edition croissant donuts from that place! Don’t come back without them.” I felt like a prisoner granted clemency, scrambling back in a hurry. I pulled off the blindfold. The others looked disappointed, while Kevin turned his face away, refusing to meet my gaze. I said nothing, just turned and left. The trendy dessert spot had a long line. I waited for three agonizing hours before finally securing the daily limited-edition treat. When I returned to the hospital, the room was empty except for Kevin. He was asleep, brows furrowed, as if in the throes of a nightmare. I placed the dessert on the nightstand, about to leave, when I heard his mumbled dream talk. I instinctively leaned closer. “Sarah… don’t leave…” He whispered, his voice laced with a vulnerability and plea I’d never heard from him. “Just turn around, and I won’t get married, Sarah…” The words were a blade that sliced through my heart. My body froze, blood draining from my face. Ten years. I’d chased this man for ten years, from a naive girl to the laughingstock of high society. I’d sacrificed every shred of dignity for a wedding a month away. Yet, in his heart, the wedding I’d earned with ten years of blood and tears meant less than a single glance from Sarah. Despair choked me. Just as I felt the pain crush me, a cold, mechanical voice resonated in my mind. “Host emotional fluctuation abnormal. Warning.” “Task progress: 99%.” “Task objective: Marry Kevin.” “Task reward: Revive William.” “Host, please stabilize emotions and complete the final 1% of the task.” The voice was like a bucket of cold water, pulling me back from the brink of collapse. I slowly closed my eyes, memories flooding my mind. Ten years ago, I didn’t belong in this world. My childhood sweetheart and fiancé, William, and I were about to get engaged. But in an accident, William saved me and fell into a deep coma, becoming a vegetable. Doctors said his chances of waking were slim. In my despair, the voice of the System appeared. It told me that if I crossed into this world and completed the task of marrying Kevin, I would receive the reward of waking William. So I came. In this world, my identity was an orphan deeply in love with Kevin, pursuing him by any means necessary. I knew Kevin hated me because the “first love” of his heart, Sarah, was my stepsister. But I didn’t care. Kevin’s love and hate were merely background noise to the task. All his torment and humiliation were just steps I had to endure to complete my mission. My heart had died the moment William fell into a coma. The only belief that sustained me was completing the task and returning to William’s side. I opened my eyes again. The vulnerability and despair in them had faded, replaced by numb determination. I looked at the sleeping man on the bed, my nominal fiancé, my gaze as calm as if I were looking at a stranger. Only one percent left. As soon as the wedding was over, I could go back. William, wait for me.

Jennifer POV The next morning, I woke to the sunlight. Kevin was propped against the headboard, on a FaceTime call with Sarah. His profile, bathed in the morning glow, seemed softer than I’d ever seen it. “Yacht party? Okay, I’ll be there.” He answered in a low voice, a smile playing on his lips. The call ended, and the softness on his face vanished, replaced by his usual cold demeanor. “Go handle the discharge papers,” he commanded. My heart tightened. I instinctively pleaded, “The doctor said you need a few more days of rest…” “What?” Kevin shot me a cold glance. “Are you not listening to me now?” His threatening gaze sent a chill down my spine. I was terrified he’d cancel the wedding in a fit of pique. I could only obey. “Yes, I’ll go right away.” That evening, at the exclusive yacht club at the private marina. Sarah had organized the party to celebrate Kevin’s miraculous survival. As soon as they arrived, Sarah, champagne flute in hand, greeted him with a beaming smile, though her eyes hid a subtle sharpness. “Kevin, you’re finally here! You’re so late, you deserve a penalty.” No sooner had she spoken than waiters pushed in a dining cart laden with dozens of exquisite French dishes. My gaze swept over the food, and my heart sank. Several dishes were heavily garnished with crushed peanuts. Kevin was severely allergic to peanuts; if he accidentally ingested them, the consequences would be dire. “You have to try a bite of each dish to show you’re truly sorry,” Sarah cooed, offering a silver fork to Kevin. Kevin, knowing it was a trap, glanced at Sarah, then actually reached for the fork. “Don’t!” Without thinking, I snatched the fork from his hand. Under everyone’s astonished gazes, I straightened my back and declared, every word clear, “I’ll eat them for him.” Kevin froze. Sarah’s smile faltered, then turned playful again. “Miss Jennifer truly loves Kevin, doesn’t she?” A ripple of laughter spread around us. I ignored them, picked up the fork, and under everyone’s watchful eyes, tasted every single dish. I have a mild seafood allergy, and these dishes contained a lot of shrimp and crab. For the sake of the wedding, I had to endure it. Next, guests, for various reasons, kept bringing new dishes. “This one’s a chef’s special, Kevin, try it?” “This white truffle was flown in specially from Italy, a welcome gift for Kevin!” Each time, I ate them in his place, my expression unchanging. I didn’t know how much I’d eaten, only that my stomach was churning, and my throat burned. Finally, red rashes began to erupt on my skin, itching agonizingly. I made an excuse and rushed to the restroom, vomiting until nothing but bile remained. The woman in the mirror was deathly pale, her lips bloodless. I splashed cold water on my face, forcing myself to calm down. I couldn’t leave him out there alone. What if Sarah tricked him again, and he touched an allergen? What about the wedding a month from now? I couldn’t bear the thought. I quickly tidied myself, endured the discomfort, and hurried back to the party. As I approached, I heard Sarah’s mocking voice. “Kevin, look, Jennifer truly loves you. She’d risk her life for you.” Kevin’s voice held a hint of subtle smugness. “Naturally,” he chuckled. “Why else would I marry her?” Hearing that, my heart settled a little. At least he still remembered the wedding. But the next second, Kevin’s words plunged me back into despair. He turned to Sarah, his voice low, with a hint of a question, “Sarah, is our agreement still on? If you just…” “Oh, what are you talking about?” Sarah smiled, cutting him off. She pulled a stack of elegant invitations from her clutch and began handing them out. “Everyone, I’m getting married next month too. You absolutely have to come.” She smiled beautifully as she handed out the invitations, finally placing one directly in front of Kevin. “Kevin, you and Miss Jennifer absolutely must come.” Kevin’s face darkened, turning as black as a storm-laden sky. He stared fixedly at the gilded invitation, which clearly bore Sarah’s name and Anthony’s name. Anthony was the heir to another prominent family in the city, and Kevin’s long-standing rival. The air in the party grew cold. Kevin’s anger twisted into a cold laugh. He snatched the invitation, tossed it to the ground without a glance, and stormed off. I hurried after him. I followed him into his car. Through the window, I watched Sarah being carefully escorted into another sports car by her fiancé, Anthony. The sight stung my eyes.

Jennifer POV The engine roared. Kevin watched Sarah get into Anthony’s car, rage consuming him. He floored the accelerator. He repeatedly and dangerously cut off their car, reckless, as if playing a game of chicken on the highway. I had just recovered from my allergy-induced vomiting and was thrown around, dizzy and nauseous. My face grew even paler. The chase led to the marina, where both groups boarded speedboats. On the sea, the pursuit continued. Kevin, like a madman, clung to Anthony’s boat. “Boom!” A deafening crash as the two speedboats collided violently. The immense impact threw me forward. Without thinking, I lunged, shielding Kevin with my body. Excruciating pain shot through me, yet I remained conscious. The boat was sinking. Fighting through the pain, I fumbled to smash the cabin window. Seawater immediately flooded in. I swam out of the cabin, firing a distress signal, and then, with all my might, dragged the unconscious Kevin onto a life raft. As soon as Kevin regained consciousness, he shoved me away, swimming frantically toward the other sunken boat, screaming, “Sarah! Sarah!” He saw Anthony alone, scrambling onto a life preserver, fleeing without a backward glance. “Anthony! Where’s Sarah?” Kevin roared. Anthony’s face was ashen. He selfishly defended himself, “I’m the sole heir to my family; I can’t die!” Kevin ignored him, diving into the water. He pulled Sarah, who was unconscious from the collision, out of the sinking cabin. Just as they surfaced, the speedboat behind them, due to fuel leakage, exploded and caught fire, flames reaching toward the sky. In the hospital corridor, Kevin anxiously stayed by Sarah’s side the entire time, ignoring me, despite my serious injuries and soaked clothes. I was a ghost. Medical staff wheeled me past him, but he didn’t even lift an eyelid. Outside the emergency room, the doctor emerged, his expression grave. “Miss Sarah has internal organ damage, severe hemorrhage, and she has rare RH-negative blood. The blood bank is critically low.” “Take mine!” Kevin immediately stepped forward, without hesitation. “No!” I cried out, struggling off another hospital bed and rushing to the doctor. “He’s injured too, he shouldn’t donate blood! Take mine! I know I’m also RH-negative!” The doctor looked at my pale face and injuries, frowning. “Miss, your body is also very weak; you’re not suitable for blood donation.” But I was stubbornly insistent, gripping the doctor’s arm, my eyes resolute. “I insist. Use my blood.” Kevin looked at me, his expression complex. The operating room light stayed on for a long time. After the blood donation, my already weak body felt even worse. Nurses helped me out of the operating room, each step feeling like walking on a blade. I looked up and saw Kevin in the next room, tenderly caring for Sarah, who had just been out of danger. He was feeding her water and wiping the sweat from her forehead. That tender look, a luxury I’d chased for ten years and never caught. I suddenly felt a wave of weakness, my vision blurred, and I almost fell, saved only by the nurse beside me. “Why do you do this to yourself?” the nurse sighed. “He doesn’t have you in his heart at all.” I tried to force a smile, my face tight, probably managing a grimace worse than a cry. I didn’t speak, just lowered my head and continued bandaging my arm. A voice in my heart repeated, forcefully, No, I don’t love him at all. I only knew I had to do this. Only this way could the wedding proceed smoothly. And only this way would my William have hope of returning. In the following days, Kevin, naturally, stayed at the hospital. I often caught glimpses of him hurrying down the corridor, or carrying a basin to fetch water. He seemed utterly devoted. That day, I was leaning against the wall near the nurses’ station when I heard Sarah’s delicate voice drift from the half-open door: “Kevin, the nurses here are so clumsy…” After a moment of silence, I distinctly heard her next words, “I want Jennifer to take care of me.” A brief quiet. Then Kevin’s calm voice: “Okay.” Soon after, footsteps stopped in front of me. I looked up and saw Kevin. He looked at me and said in a commanding tone, “Go take care of Sarah.”

Jennifer POV I became Sarah’s official private caregiver. On the first day, Sarah pointed to a plate of lobster, sweetly complaining her fingers might get hurt, and demanded I peel out the whole lobster meat with my bare hands. I silently complied. Lobster shells are hard and sharp, and my fingers were soon raw and bleeding. I peeled one after another until my fingertips were numb with pain. When Kevin pushed the door open, I instinctively hid my hands behind my back. He didn’t notice, walking straight to the bed to pick up a bowl of soup, spooning it gently into Sarah’s mouth. The sight was like a needle piercing my heart, yet no blood flowed. The next day, Sarah deliberately dropped a diamond earring into the hospital garden’s frozen pond. “Oh dear, it slipped,” she feigned panic. “Jennifer, could you please find it for me? Kevin gave it to me.” It was deep winter, and the water was covered with thin ice. Without a word, I stripped off my coat and jumped into the pond. The icy water made me shiver, my teeth chattering uncontrollably. I dived repeatedly, searching, occasionally surfacing for air. From the hospital room window, I could see Kevin massaging Sarah’s shoulders, both of them laughing and chatting. It wasn’t until dusk that I found the earring in the pond’s muddy bottom. When I crawled ashore, my hands and feet were numb with cold, and my lips were purple. On the third day, Sarah had someone bring in a valuable long-haired cat. I am severely allergic to cat fur. Sarah pretended not to know, pointing to the luxurious cat tree in the corner, covered in fur. “Jennifer, the cat tree is filthy. Would you mind cleaning it, please?” she asked with a smile. I said nothing, and walked over. In the enclosed space, fine fur particles floated everywhere. Soon, I began to have difficulty breathing. My skin became red and itchy, my eyes bloodshot and tearing. I felt like I’d been thrown into boiling water. I fought the suffocating sensation, determined to clean the cat house until it was spotless. When I stumbled back into the hospital room, Kevin was sitting on the sofa. He saw the red rash on my face and my nearly swollen-shut eyes. His brows furrowed. I thought he might show a little pity. But he didn’t. He just spoke coldly, his voice laced with disgust, “Go clean yourself up. Don’t scare Sarah.” Those words cut deeper than any knife. As I turned to leave, I heard Sarah and her friends’ barely suppressed laughter behind me. “Look at her, she’s a mess! So funny.” “She’s got the life of a maid, yet she dreams of being a billionaire’s wife.” “I bet Kevin will get bored and dump her soon, then get back with Sarah.” Kevin didn’t reply. His silence, surprisingly, made me feel a little better. At least he hadn’t confirmed it himself. The day Sarah was discharged, the sky opened up, unleashing a torrent. Before getting into the car, Sarah suddenly grabbed Kevin’s arm, pointing at me. “Kevin, I don’t want to ride in the same car as her.” Kevin didn’t even look at me, simply commanded, “You take a taxi back.” With that, he closed the car door, and the black Bentley sped away from me, splashing mud. I stood in the pouring rain, soaked to the bone in an instant. I stretched out my hand, but couldn’t hail a single cab. Finally, I had no choice but to walk back in the rain, step by arduous step. Three hours. When I finally reached the empty mansion, I looked like I’d been pulled from the water; not a single spot on me was dry. The days of exhaustion, torment, and this downpour utterly broke my body. I fell ill, burning with a high fever that wouldn’t break. In my feverish sleep, I seemed to return to my own world, seeing the person I longed for day and night. William was holding me tenderly, his warm hand stroking my forehead. “William…” I couldn’t hold back anymore. Ten years of accumulated grievances and longing burst forth. I clutched his sleeve, like a helpless child, sobbing uncontrollably. “I miss you so much… I hurt so much… I almost couldn’t go on…” “Jennifer.” A cold, hard voice ripped me from my dream. I painstakingly opened my eyes. Through my fever-blurred vision, a tall figure sat by my bed. It was Kevin. His face darkened, his eyes churning with an anger and a scrutiny I couldn’t decipher. He stared at me, demanding, word by word. “Who is William?”

Jennifer POV The moment Kevin demanded an answer, my entire body tensed. Despite my severe illness, I forced a smile and lied without thinking. “William is my brother. We were inseparable. He passed away many years ago.” Kevin stared at my face, his gaze sharp, trying to find a crack in my expression. He seemed angry. He walked out, and the door slammed shut, leaving me alone in the room. Only then did I finally relax, slumping back onto the bed. Just a little more. A few days later, just as I began to recover, Kevin took me to a gala. When we arrived, I realized it was Sarah’s birthday celebration. The ballroom was magnificent, filled with high society. As soon as Kevin arrived, he left me behind, walking straight to the evening’s main attraction. Sarah, in her couture gown, looked absolutely stunning, like a princess. Kevin stood by her side, shielding her from unwanted attention, adjusting her dress, attending to her every need flawlessly. I became the laughingstock of the entire event. Guests intentionally or unintentionally avoided me, isolating me in a corner, as if I were something dirty. I was content to be ignored. I found an inconspicuous corner and watched the whole charade with a detached gaze. The gift-giving segment began, and the atmosphere grew lively. Kevin presented a velvet box. When he opened it, a gasp swept through the room. It was a necklace custom-made with rare pink diamonds, sparkling brilliantly under the lights, priceless. Sarah gasped in surprise, her eyes turning to Kevin, as she sweetly said, “Kevin, you’re too extravagant.” Kevin’s face showed a faint smile as he personally fastened it around her neck. The whispers of the crowd filtered into my ears. “Did you see that? Kevin only has Sarah in his heart.” “So what’s Jennifer? A lovesick fool throwing herself at him. So embarrassing.” “Exactly, she just shamelessly latched onto an engagement. Has Kevin even looked at her properly? Pathetic.” The words were sharp as needles, but I paid them no mind. I picked up a glass of champagne, raising it toward Kevin and Sarah’s direction, silently mouthing a blessing. As long as Kevin didn’t publicly cancel the engagement, he could give Sarah all the gold and silver, even his heart, and I wouldn’t care. I never loved him anyway.

Jennifer POV Halfway through the party, Sarah excused herself to the garden for some fresh air. Soon after, her sobbing voice came through a phone call, thick with tears. “Kevin, save me, someone pushed me into the pool… I’m drowning…” Kevin’s face changed instantly. He didn’t even hang up the phone, just dashed out. My heart tightened with a bad feeling. I immediately put down my drink and followed him. Deep in the garden, I indeed saw Kevin pulling a drenched Sarah from the pool. “Kevin…” Sarah nestled in his arms like a frightened bird, her cries sharp and broken. She extended a trembling hand, pointing to me not far away. “It was Jennifer, she was jealous you were good to me, so she pushed me.” She choked, each word like a knife, “I know you love Kevin, but how could you use such a vicious method…” Kevin was furious, his eyes on me as if he wanted to devour me whole. “Jennifer, you are truly wicked!” He didn’t listen to my explanation, announcing, word by word, “Our engagement is hereby canceled!” I panicked. My mission was going to fail! “No… it wasn’t me…” I rushed forward, clutching Kevin’s suit sleeve desperately, trying to explain, “Kevin, believe me, it really wasn’t me!” “Please, don’t cancel the engagement. You can hit me, curse me, just don’t cancel the wedding.” Kevin roughly shook me off, with such force that I fell directly to the ground. He carried Sarah away, without a backward glance, leaving my cries to echo behind him. I scrambled up regardless, chasing him out of the ballroom, only to watch his car speed away into the distance. I collapsed to the ground, but the man never once looked back. From that day on, Kevin refused to see me. For the sake of the mission, I could only resort to the most desperate method. Day after day, I stood outside the tightly shut ornate iron gates of Kevin’s mansion. The sky opened up, unleashing a torrent. The temperature plummeted. I was soaked to the bone, shivering in the rain, yet I dared not move an inch. “I know I was wrong. Please, don’t cancel the wedding.” I repeated the words into the intercom, my voice already hoarse. I stood in the rain for three days and three nights, until my legs swelled and my consciousness blurred. On the evening of the third day, the tightly shut gates finally opened. Kevin stood at the entrance, frowning as he looked at me, drenched and swaying precariously. His expression was complex. “Do you have no self-respect?” he asked, his voice hoarse. Seeing a glimmer of hope, I immediately seized the opportunity, tears welling in my eyes. “No… I don’t care about dignity… As long as I can marry you, I’ll give up anything…” Kevin stared at me for a long time. Finally, he conceded in a low voice, “If you want my forgiveness, go make amends to Sarah.” He took me to the alley behind an abandoned factory on the outskirts of town. A winding path was covered with broken glass, glinting sharply in the setting sun. Kevin’s assistant stood at the entrance, relaying Sarah’s words. “Miss Sarah said if Miss Jennifer can walk this path barefoot, she will forgive you.”

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Julian Blackwood’s mistress set him a monthly KPI: at least 10 sexual encounters. This month, he was too busy and only managed 9. His mistress responded by going on a one-day hunger strike. To appease her, Julian actually begged me to comfort Tiffany: “Aria, please go explain to Tiffany. Tell her I haven’t touched you all year. Don’t let her be jealous or upset.” My eyes widened. Julian and I hadn’t been intimate in three years, but his request was beyond ridiculous. I agreed to help him, but scoffed, “You should really see a doctor. If you can’t even manage 10 times a month, what kind of mistress would want you?!” I called Tiffany’s phone, my voice calm: “Julian has belonged to you for a long time, and he’ll only belong to you from now on.” After I hung up, Julian tried to soothe me: “You’re always in my heart too, Aria.” But I didn’t care anymore. We’d been separated for almost two years and would soon finalize our divorce. However, Tiffany wasn’t pleased by my explanation. She didn’t believe Julian hadn’t been with me! So, Julian came back to me, looking dejected, asking for help again. I asked him directly: “Julian, what exactly do you want me to do?” “How about you go to the hospital for a vaginal exam? The doctor can prove you haven’t been intimate in a long time. Don’t worry, I’ll arrange for a female doctor.” He paused, then continued, “Tiffany’s got a one-track mind; she won’t believe it unless you do this. Just bear with her.” A wave of nausea churned in my stomach, and I recoiled instinctively, putting as much distance between us as possible. Even though I’d long since given up on him, hearing him make such a request for his mistress still sent a chill through me. He completely disregarded my feelings, pressing on: “Just think of it as a regular check-up.” The disgust in my chest intensified. I clutched my chest and sneered at him, “Julian, let’s just get divorced already!” I exploded at him. Knowing he was in the wrong, he didn’t push it further, his tone softening as he tried to placate me: “Don’t be angry! You’re always the most important person to me. Just calm down for a bit.” He always said that. He’d say I was the most important, then climb into his mistress’s bed again and again. He just presumed his money and power meant I’d put up with anything! After all, I’d fought my way through a lineup of his admirers to become Mrs. Blackwood. What Cinderella, once she’s in the castle, would ever want to leave? He didn’t know that this Cinderella had already saved enough to be financially independent. Julian’s phone rang again. He answered it. I heard Tiffany crying hysterically: “Julian! I became your mistress at 18. You promised me you’d be with me 10 times a month and never touch your wife! You’re a liar! I’m breaking up with you!” Tiffany Reed was the most spoiled and demanding of all the mistresses he’d ever kept. But Julian doted on her the most. Even a year ago, when his mother passed away unexpectedly, Julian left the funeral early on the very day to be with Tiffany. He left me to manage the funeral alone. In the middle of the night, during the funeral, Tiffany sent me taunting photos. They were all of her and Julian in various explicit poses in bed. From that day on, I knew Julian wasn’t just having a physical affair; he was truly in love! He loved her so much that he was willing to trample all over my dignity.

“Tiffany! You won’t believe anything I say, fine! Tomorrow, I’ll have a doctor examine her! Then you’ll believe me!” Julian’s voice on the phone snapped me back to reality. I never imagined that after my clear refusal, he would actually agree to such a thing just to placate Tiffany! The next morning, Tiffany arrived with a male doctor. Julian was stunned. He told her, “No male doctors, it has to be a female doctor!” His face hardened, a flicker of jealousy in his eyes. He might be cheating himself, but he still kept a tight leash on me. If I spoke to another man for more than two sentences, he’d go ballistic with jealousy. Tiffany scowled: “What’s the difference between a male and female doctor? It’s just a quick check-up anyway!” Julian coaxed her, “Let’s just get a female doctor instead.” Tiffany reluctantly agreed. I walked silently to Tiffany, then slapped her across the face. “Who the hell do you think you are?! You’re just a mistress! What right do you have to interfere with my and Julian’s bedroom affairs!” Just to spite her, I even deliberately added: “The only reason Julian didn’t hit your monthly KPI is because he spent 17 nights with me this month, and he was too exhausted!” Seventeen times! That colossal number was like a bombshell to Tiffany. She instantly broke down, tears streaming down her face, and screamed at Julian: “You still won’t admit it! She just admitted it!” Julian was furious with me. He scolded, “What are you talking about?! Aren’t things messy enough already?!” Tiffany, clutching her stinging face, ran off in a rage. Julian immediately chased after her to explain. The ironic thing was that as he ran after Tiffany, he ordered his butler: “Give Mrs. Blackwood her medication!” Ever since his affair started, I’d developed panic attacks, unable to be touched by him. The moment he touched me, I’d feel sick and suffocated. Twice, I even had to be rushed to the emergency room. For years, he’d spent a fortune on various medications to “cure” me. He’d often reassure me, “I’ll make you better. Once you’re well, we’ll have a child.” What he didn’t know was that I’d poured all those medicines down the drain. I hadn’t taken a single dose. I counted down the days, yearning for the day I could leave. On my way to apply for an overseas visa, Julian’s people suddenly intercepted me. I was confined to the mansion, then forced onto a cold, hard examination table. Five female doctors roughly restrained my arms and legs. As I struggled frantically, one of the female doctors’ video calls rang. The next second, Tiffany’s voice came through. “Make sure you examine her thoroughly! Miss Reed, we’re professionals in this field.” I roared with uncontrollable rage, “Tiffany, I’ll kill you!” “Julian, I’ll make you pay for this!” I knew he had to be with Tiffany. Sure enough, his voice came through the phone: “Aria, Tiffany’s pregnant. I’m 35, don’t make things difficult for me, okay?” His meaning was clear: he wanted me to cooperate with the examination. He had wanted to be a father since he was 25. We once had a child too, but Julian had fertility issues, making it difficult for me to conceive. He took a lot of medication and underwent treatment for several years before I finally got pregnant. That time of nurturing a new life was the happiest period Julian and I ever shared. But just as I was nine months pregnant and about to give birth, Julian fell for Tiffany at first sight. Tiffany was young, beautiful, and vibrant. He completely fell for her after just one motorcycle ride. That day, Tiffany posted a photo of the two of them on a motorcycle online. It caused a stir, with countless netizens praising them as a perfect, made-for-each-other couple. I stumbled upon the video three days later. The shock triggered a difficult labor, and I lost our child. The loss of our child didn’t make Julian change his ways. He cried and promised me, “It was just an accident, we’ll have another child.” Julian didn’t know that from that moment on, I had completely given up on him.

Now he had another child, and he’d undoubtedly do everything to keep it! He knew that child loss was my deepest wound, yet here he was, asking me to endure such humiliation for him and Tiffany’s baby. I screamed at him, enraged: “Julian, you heartless monster! If you dare let them touch me today, I’ll hate you for the rest of my life!” Tiffany impatiently mumbled, “Hurry up and finish the exam!” Julian also lost patience and directly ordered the female doctors: “Give Mrs. Blackwood a light anesthetic injection.” He paused, then tried to calm me, “It’ll only be for a moment, it won’t harm you.” I continued to struggle desperately, watching as the female doctors approached with long, thin examination tools, preparing to remove my clothes. A wave of terror washed over me. Another female doctor injected a thin, long anesthetic needle into my arm. I couldn’t struggle anymore and quickly fell unconscious. Sometime later, I vaguely heard that Tiffany’s call was still connected. The female doctor was still examining me. Her phone was placed near my ear, broadcasting muffled sounds. Julian’s voice was controlled and strained: “You’re pregnant, you can’t be intimate. After the baby is born, I’ll make it up to you.” “No, I won’t let you be deprived. Just be gentle, even if I’m pregnant, 10 times a month can’t be skipped.” Her coquettish voice made me intensely uncomfortable. Suddenly, she deliberately asked, “You always say you love me, so why haven’t you divorced your wife yet?!” I also really wanted to know the answer to that, and I couldn’t help but strain my ears. Julian’s voice remained unchanged: “Are you stupid? Divorce means splitting half my assets. I haven’t touched her in years, it’s practically the same as being divorced. Remember, I’m a businessman, everything I do requires weighing pros and cons.” He really knew how to manipulate young, naive women. He claimed he couldn’t afford to divorce me because of the money, but in reality, all the money he earned had been transferred to my personal account. It was even legally notarized as solely my property. I had previously, out of spite for his affair, deliberately leaked confidential business secrets of Blackwood Corp to his competitors. This caused Blackwood Corp to suffer losses in the hundreds of millions, pushing the company to the brink of bankruptcy. Even after I pushed him so hard for a divorce, he refused. He didn’t even scold me, instead trying to calm me down. I finally saw through him completely. He genuinely loved me, and he genuinely loved Tiffany. He didn’t want to lose either of us. He was greedy; he wanted one woman at home and another outside. The doctor finished the examination, took the phone from my ear, and reported: “Miss Reed, we’ve completed the examination. Mrs. Blackwood has not only not been intimate recently, but she hasn’t had any intimate activity for at least a year.” Tiffany, having received the satisfactory answer, sounded a few shades lighter: “Thank you for your hard work, here’s your payment.” They packed up their things and left. As the anesthetic wore off, a dense, throbbing pain spread below. The air was thick with the smell of blood. I tried to shift my body, and a violent surge of agony struck me. Below, and on my backside, there was sticky blood everywhere. This wasn’t any scientific examination; it was torture. An overwhelming hatred engulfed me, and within minutes, I was covered in a cold sweat from the pain. In that moment, an earth-shattering idea flashed through my mind! After several hours of pain, I finally managed to stand. Dragging my broken body, I set fire to “Cinderella’s Castle,” the mansion Julian had spent a billion dollars to buy for me.

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At my male friend Daniel’s engagement party, his phone suddenly got ninety-nine extremely explicit videos. He freaked out, wanting to delete them, but his fiancée, Scarlett, snatched the phone right out of his hand. Scarlett had always seen me as a thorn in her side, convinced there was something inappropriate going on between Daniel and me. I never thought that during the climax of the ring exchange ceremony, she would force me to connect my phone to the big screen. I broke out in a sweat, desperately holding down the screen mirroring button and trying to dissuade her. “Scarlett, these videos really can’t be played…” But Scarlett’s face twisted with venomous resentment, and she shoved me hard in front of all the guests. “Now you care this? When you were busy seducing my fiancé, why didn’t you ever consider what a day like this would bring?!” “Today, I’m going to make all our friends see how much of a slut you really are in bed!” I froze. But the main characters in those videos were clearly you and Daniel.

At Daniel and Scarlett’s engagement party, I was about to hit play, ready to display their “Our Love Story” slideshow. Suddenly, Scarlett snatched the mouse from the table and smirked at all the guests. “Today, on this wonderful occasion, on behalf of the Davies family, I invite everyone to enjoy something truly special!” Before I could react, she operated the screen mirroring and directly opened a deeply hidden folder on the desktop. I recognized that folder instantly. It was the “Private Collection” that Daniel, due to a cloud sync error, had accidentally uploaded to my work computer three days ago. Both Daniel and I, who were working late, had been startled by it. Daniel’s face went ghost-white, and he practically begged me on his knees to delete the folder. At the time, I just assumed it was some inappropriate videos he’d downloaded from the internet, and I didn’t think much of it. Watching Scarlett’s finger about to click, I rushed forward like a madwoman, trying to stop her. “Don’t click it! Please! These videos really can’t be played!” I tried to make my voice sound earnest, even though I was already worried. “The stuff in that folder, it really shouldn’t be seen.” “There are so many family members and esteemed guests here; let’s not make a complete fool of ourselves.” “Just give me the phone, and we can talk backstage, okay?” Scarlett laughed. “Embarrassing?” “You didn’t feel embarrassed when you were seducing my man, did you?” She turned to face the guests, her eyes filled with a crazed glint. “Ladies and gentlemen, since Cassidy doesn’t want you to see it, I’m going to make sure you all see it crystal clear!” “Let’s all see just how utterly shameless this woman, who usually pretends to be so innocent, really gets in bed!” The bridesmaids in the audience started to jeer and egg her on. “Yeah! Don’t be a coward!” “Play it! I want to hear what kind of sounds a bitch like her makes!” In the corner, I saw Daniel. The groom, who should have been standing up, was hiding behind a champagne-colored pillar. His face was pale, and he was trembling like a leaf, his hand clamped over his mouth, not daring to make a sound. My heart sank. Scarlett didn’t give me any chance to explain. She slammed down the Enter key. The big screen instantly lit up. The first video began to play. The light was dim, and the camera was shaking violently. Loud, suggestive moans and gasps that made everyone uncomfortable echoed from the speakers. There were only two overlapping, blurry figures in the frame. The entire hall erupted in murmurs. Scarlett pointed at the figures on the screen, a cold smirk on her face. “Everyone, look closely!” “Whose figure could that be if not Cassidy’s?” “Daniel told me before that some women are just so trashy, they’ll practically give themselves away for free!” I looked at the blurry figure on the screen. Was that my back? If I tried to refute her now, she’d just release more. I could only grit my teeth, enduring the scornful glances from others. “That’s not me.” I offered a weak denial. Scarlett didn’t listen. “Not you? Then who the hell is it, a ghost?” “Cassidy, the evidence is undeniable, and you still want to deny it?” “It seems one video isn’t enough to make you give up.” Her finger slid the mouse again. “Then let’s have something even more thrilling!” “This next one, let’s see you try to talk your way out of this one!” Scarlett clicked on the second video file. This time, the light was much brighter. The scene shifted; it was no longer a blurry hotel room. The background showed two massive ornate pillars, and a rose-covered feature wall. The entire hall instantly went wild. Someone gasped loudly: “Hey? Isn’t that Daniel and Scarlett’s new house?” “I’ve been to their place; Scarlett had those pillars custom-made!” “Oh my god, Cassidy and Daniel were actually hooking up on their bed!”

The murmurs grew louder. Scarlett froze for a moment. She obviously recognized her own wedding suite. In that instant, the expression on her face stiffened. She whipped her head around, her eyes practically bulging out of her head, glaring fiercely at me. “You actually snuck into our wedding suite to seduce Daniel when I wasn’t home?” “That’s our bed! The bed I’m supposed to use when I get married!” Scarlett’s voice cracked with extreme rage, becoming shrill and piercing. “How could you be so trashy?!” “Messing around on someone else’s wedding bed? Aren’t you afraid of what karma will bring you?!” In her twisted victim narrative, everything became my premeditated scheme. The guests in the hall were swayed. “Oh my god, how utterly shameless is that?” “Women like her are terrifying; seriously, you gotta watch out for your friends!” Suddenly, a figure rushed out from the main table. It was Mrs. Davies, Daniel’s mother, who had always been so kind to me. She rushed up to me and slapped me across the face. My head snapped to the side, my ears rang, and my cheek stung with a fiery pain. “I treated you like my own flesh and blood! How could you betray me by sleeping with my son?!” She pointed a trembling finger at my nose. “Are you that desperate for male attention?” “You’ve utterly disappointed me! Get out! I’ll pretend I never took care of you!” I covered my stinging cheek, looking at her eyes filled with disappointment, and my heart ached so much I couldn’t breathe. When I was little and bullied, she was the one who held my hand and helped me get justice. I had always depended on her. But now, even she didn’t believe me. I opened my mouth, wanting to explain. But looking at Scarlett’s enraged face, at Mrs. Davies’s disappointed eyes, and at Daniel, who was still trying to act invisible in the corner… I suddenly felt that explanations were pointless. This family is completely hopeless. Scarlett’s triumph in her eyes grew stronger when she saw me get hit. She frantically dragged the video’s progress bar. “Serves you right!” “This bitch totally deserves it!” “Don’t worry, everyone, I’m going to show you her face!” “I’m going to let everyone see how utterly shameless her expression is on my bed!” The mouse clicked loudly. The images on the screen flashed rapidly. It was all wild intertwining of two naked bodies, sweat flying. But precisely because of the camera angle, only the woman’s back or a side profile obscured by hair was visible. No frontal view. The more Scarlett searched, the more agitated she became, fine beads of sweat appearing on her forehead. She frantically rummaged through that folder. “Why is it all backs?!” “Daniel, that incompetent idiot, couldn’t even manage to film a proper frontal shot?!” She cursed as she clicked on the third video. The screen image jumped. This time, it was inside a car. A cramped space, a shaking camera, wild moans and muffled grunts… Through the car window, the blur of passing streetlights was visible. It was the back seat of Daniel’s unmistakable black SUV. Everyone recognized it. Scarlett’s eyes grew even redder. “Car sex? Wow, Cassidy, you really get around, don’t you?” “You usually act so detached and sophisticated at the office, but you like this kind of kink?” I ignored her humiliation. While everyone’s attention was on the big screen, I secretly pulled out my own phone. This was my last chance. And my final ultimatum to Daniel.

I dialed Daniel’s number. Daniel, hiding behind the pillar, clearly hadn’t expected me to call him then. The phone rang only once before it was answered. But before I could speak, a hand suddenly reached out and snatched my phone. It was Scarlett. “Trying to call for help?” She looked at Daniel’s name displayed on the screen and sneered. “Perfect, he’s right here.” “I’d love to hear what kind of sweet nothings you two cheating trash have to whisper to each other!” She didn’t hang up; instead, she directly pressed the speaker button. “Daniel!” Scarlett roared into the phone, “Speak!” Through the speaker came Daniel’s barely suppressed voice, filled with terror. “Scarlett! Don’t play it anymore!” “Please! Turn it off! You really can’t play it!” “Someone’s going to get seriously hurt if you don’t stop!” The entire hall erupted in chaos. That was practically an admission of guilt! If the people in the video weren’t him and Cassidy, why would he be begging like that? “You’re protecting her?” “Even now, with the evidence right in front of us, you’re still protecting this slut?!” Scarlett roared into the phone, tears streaming down her face. “Daniel! I’ve been so good to you, and you’re begging me for her sake?!” “You’re afraid she’ll be shamed? Afraid she’ll be socially ruined?” “But did you ever think about my feelings?!” Daniel on the other end of the phone was still babbling incoherently, “No! I’m not protecting her! It’s for us…” “Shut up!” Scarlett didn’t want to hear any explanations. She raised the phone and smashed it hard onto the red carpet in front of her. The phone screen shattered. Scarlett breathed heavily, her eyes scanning the entire hall fiercely. “The more Daniel doesn’t want me to play it, the more I will!” “I’m going to make Daniel realize what happens when you betray me!” I looked at the shattered phone on the ground, my eyes cold. Scarlett had completely lost it. She frantically clicked the mouse. Each click was accompanied by her hysterical running commentary. “This one! The background looks like a movie theater restroom!” “Cassidy, aren’t you grossed out? You’d actually go that low?” The screen flashed, full of pixelation in the dim light. “And this one! An outdoor tent!” “You two went camping? Was it last year when I was away on that business trip?” “Oh, great, the moment my back was turned, you two were out in the wilderness getting it on?” The guests in the audience, initially shocked and embarrassed, slowly became numb to the spectacle. Some even held a secret excitement. Countless phones were raised. Some were recording, some were live-streaming. Flashlights flickered on and off, making it hard to keep one’s eyes open. That’s human nature. Since the bride herself didn’t care about the humiliation, everyone treated it as a free, vulgar show. Although the images on the screen were all blurry, obscuring faces. The sounds, however, were crystal clear. It was an unrestrained, primal outpouring of desire. Accompanied by Scarlett’s crude commentary. “Listen to that sound, how wild she gets.” “Cassidy, what happened to that detached, sophisticated act you pull at the office?” “How do you become such a complete slut in bed?” If it had truly been me today, my life would be over. But unfortunately, it wasn’t me.

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During the ultrasound, I heard two babies arguing inside my womb. One voice was sweet and whiny. “Stop shoving me.” The other snapped back, fierce and territorial. “Get out. This is my space.” Overjoyed, I turned to the doctor. “It’s twins?” The doctor’s eyes flicked toward my husband, Julian Thorne, behind me, then he shook his head. “You’re mistaken, Mrs. Thorne. There’s only one.” Julian smiled, wrapping an arm around me. “You must have imagined it.” Really? But I heard the fierce baby’s sneer as clear as day. “He’d better keep his mouth shut. If he dares tell the truth, my father will end him.” His words instantly put me on high alert. What did this fierce baby mean? I touched my belly, my palms cold, a terrifying thought taking root deep within me. Julian carried over a glass of warm milk, placing it thoughtfully by my hand. “What’s wrong? Still thinking about twins? Don’t overthink it, the doctor said there’s only one. Let’s just focus on nurturing this one.” His smile was gentle, his eyes full of adoration, exactly as they were when I first met him. I lowered my gaze, hiding the coldness in my eyes, and obediently took the milk. Then I asked, feigning nonchalance, “Julian, a friend of mine is also pregnant, and she’s having twins. Wouldn’t it be wonderful if we had two babies too?” I stared intently at his face, not wanting to miss any expression. His hand, holding the mug, paused. “Twins are too risky. I just want you and our baby to be safe and sound.” His voice was still gentle, but tight with tension. That night, I pretended to be asleep in bed. Julian tiptoed in, believing I was truly asleep. He stood by the bed for a long time, so long I almost couldn’t keep up the act. Then, I felt his cold fingers gently rest on my belly. He seemed to be calculating something. I stiffened, barely daring to breathe. The soft baby whimpered, “I’m scared…” The fierce baby immediately soothed, “Don’t be. Just stay put, don’t let him find me.” A cold dread settled in my stomach. The fierce baby was afraid someone would discover him? Was he afraid of Julian? Just then, I heard Julian let out a barely audible sigh, then turn and walk out of the room. The next day, Julian told me he’d gotten me a new cell phone. “Less radiation, better for the baby,” he said, smiling. I looked at the old-fashioned phone, so basic it could only make calls and send texts, and a cold laugh echoed in my heart. Less radiation, or easier to monitor? He took my old phone, skillfully formatting all the data. My heart sank, piece by piece. Within two days, Julian’s mother, Amanda, suddenly moved into our villa. She brought an entire team: a nutritionist, a nanny, and two expressionless bodyguards. She said it was to take better care of me. “Elara Thompson, starting today, your meals will be Vera’s responsibility. She’s the most professional prenatal nutritionist.” Amanda sat on the sofa, speaking in a commanding tone. I looked at the woman named Vera; she adjusted her glasses, her gaze sharp. My life was completely taken over. I couldn’t go out, couldn’t see friends. My daily range of activity was confined to this villa. Julian came back every day, showering me with concern. But to me, it was no different from imprisonment.

The fierce baby seemed to sense the danger too. “That old witch is up to no good. She’s been adding something to the soup she gives you. It’s small amounts, but it’s consistent.” I held the bowl, even managing a placating smile at Amanda. “Thank you, it’s really delicious.” Amanda’s lips curved up in satisfaction. I tipped the bowl back, draining it completely. Then, I used the excuse of needing the restroom, rushed into the bathroom, and forced myself to vomit by sticking my fingers down my throat. I vomited until nothing but bile remained, then collapsed onto the floor, exhausted. I couldn’t sit idly by and wait for death any longer. I had to contact the outside world. I remembered I had a spare phone, hidden in an old briefcase in the innermost part of my walk-in closet. During a bodyguard shift change, I slipped into the closet and locked the door. I found the phone; thankfully, it still had power. Fumbling frantically, I called my best friend, Chloe Green. The phone rang only once before it was picked up. “Hello? Elara?” The moment I heard Chloe’s voice, tears welled in my eyes. “Chloe, I…” I only managed three words before the closet door was suddenly kicked open from the outside. Amanda stood at the doorway, two bodyguards behind her, a chilling smile on her face. “Elara Thompson, who are you calling?” She walked towards me, step by step, her heels clacking against the floor, each sound a hammer blow against my chest. I instinctively hid the phone behind my back. She didn’t give me a chance to react; with a single glance, one of the bodyguards rushed forward, roughly snatching my phone. Amanda took the phone and glanced at the name on the screen. “Chloe?” She let out a short, dismissive laugh. “It seems I’ve been too lenient with you.” With that, she smashed the phone to the floor right in front of me. The screen shattered instantly. “Anything or anyone that might disrupt your pregnancy, I will eliminate completely.” She finished, then turned and walked away. That night, when Julian returned, Amanda told him what had happened. I thought he would at least speak up for me. But he just listened in silence, then walked to my side and knelt down. “Elara, Mom is doing this for your own good. Right now, the most important thing is for you to rest and nurture our baby, don’t think so much.” His voice was as gentle as a placid lake, yet it sent a chill to my very bones. I looked at him, asking, enunciating each word carefully, “Julian Thorne, I am your wife, not some tool your family keeps for breeding.” His veneer of gentleness cracked. “How can you think that? I love you, Elara.” The fierce baby in my belly sneered. “Love? His love means locking you up and then trying to kill one of your children.” I closed my eyes, not wanting to see his hypocritical face anymore. From that day on, their surveillance tightened even further. Two bodyguards guarded my bedroom door, never leaving. I couldn’t even close the bathroom door when I used it. I started a hunger strike. It was the only way I could fight back. On the first day, Amanda watched with cold indifference. On the second day, she started threatening me. “Elara Thompson, don’t push your luck. If you harm my grandchild, I’ll make sure your whole family suffers the consequences.” My parents were my only weakness. I glared at her with reddened eyes. “You wouldn’t dare!” “Just watch me.”

She tossed a document onto the table. “Your parents’ restaurant, seems the recent health inspections haven’t gone so well.” I trembled with rage. I had no choice but to compromise. I started eating, but every bite felt like swallowing razor blades. I had to find a way; I couldn’t let them succeed. A plan slowly began to form in my mind. That afternoon, when the maid, Lucy, wasn’t looking, I secretly poured some shower gel on the bathroom floor. Then, I slipped and fell heavily. “Ah!” I cried out, clutching my belly. Lucy’s face went white with fright, and she screamed, running out to get help. Soon, Julian and Amanda rushed in. Seeing me on the floor, a faint trace of blood beneath me, Julian’s face instantly drained of color. “Quick! Call Dr. Miller!” Amanda shouted. My heart sank. Again, the family doctor. My gamble was that they would panic and send me to the nearest public hospital. I had lost my bet. But my mind raced, trying to figure out how to use this “injury” to create the next opportunity. Dr. Miller, the family doctor, arrived quickly. He performed a series of examinations, then shook his head at Julian and Amanda. “She took a significant fall. It has threatened the pregnancy, and she requires immediate, strict bed rest. I recommend starting her on a nutrient IV to stabilize the fetus.” I lay in bed, cold all over. I heard the fierce voice in my belly curse furiously. “Foolish woman! Do you think they’re blind? This pathetic sympathy ploy will only make them despise you more!” I closed my eyes in despair. Cold liquid flowed slowly into my body through the IV tube. Soon, an overwhelming wave of drowsiness washed over me. My eyelids grew heavier and heavier. Before I completely lost consciousness, I heard the soft baby whimper: “I feel so bad… my body’s so hot…” Immediately after, the fierce male voice roared: “Damn it! They’re drugging her! This medicine is meant for me! They’re trying to kill me!” My consciousness drifted in and out of the darkness, my body burning as if on fire. No, I couldn’t sleep. Summoning every last ounce of strength, I bit my tongue hard. The sharp pain brought me back to my senses, if only for a moment. I opened my eyes; the room was empty. On the back of my hand, the cold liquid continued to flow into my veins. This was it, this thing, it was trying to kill my baby. With my other hand, the one not hooked up, I trembled and ripped the needle from the back of my hand. A blinding pain made my vision go dark, a tearing, burning sensation searing through my veins. Ignoring the pain, I scrambled off the bed, stumbling into the bathroom and locking the door. I turned on the faucet, splashing cold water on my face again and again, trying to stay awake. The drug was potent; my body grew hotter and hotter, but my limbs were starting to go numb. Inside my belly, the fierce voice also sounded weak: “Hold on… stupid woman… don’t fall asleep…” I slid to the floor, leaning against the cold wall, gasping for breath. Not long after, urgent footsteps echoed outside. “Elara! Open the door!” It was Julian’s voice, tinged with panic. I didn’t make a sound. “Break down the door!” Amanda’s sharp voice cut through the silence. The bathroom door was kicked open.

Julian rushed in, his face instantly contorted into a mask of pure horror as he saw me slumped on the floor, the pool of blood at his feet, and the pulled-out IV needle on the bedsheet. He quickly came forward, grabbing my arm. “Elara Thompson! Are you insane?! Do you have any idea what you’re doing?” His grip was so strong it hurt. I looked up at his face, etched with concern and fury, and suddenly smiled. “What am I doing? Julian, why don’t you ask yourself what you’re doing?” I pointed at the IV bag still standing on the bedside table. “What’s in there? ‘Nutrient solution’? Do you take me for a fool?” “What exactly is that?! Why are you trying to kill our baby?!” I practically screamed. Julian’s expression froze, panic in his eyes quickly replaced by anguish. “Elara, calm down, it’s not what you think.” He tried to hug me, but I shoved him away. “It’s not what I think? Then what is it? Tell me!” Amanda stood at the doorway, watching our play-acting with cold indifference. “Julian, why waste words on her? Since she’s seeking death, then let her…” “Mom!” Julian abruptly cut her off, glancing back at her. Amanda’s face shifted, but she finally clamped her mouth shut, though the venom in her eyes remained undiluted. Julian turned back to me, a pained expression on his face. He knelt down, taking my hand, his voice hoarse. “Elara, I’m sorry, I’ve been hiding it from you.” “We are, indeed, having twins.” My heart skipped a beat. “But…” He took a deep breath, his eyes reddened. “Through the Thorne family’s most advanced genetic screening, we discovered… we discovered that the boy has a very severe congenital heart defect.” “The doctors said he wouldn’t live past one year old. And his presence would severely impact the healthy baby, and even you.” “So… we decided to only keep the healthy one.” He spoke tearfully, but I could sense his hidden triumph. “Bullshit! My heart beats stronger than anyone’s! He’s just trying to find an excuse to kill me!” The fierce voice, though weak, was full of conviction. Watching him fabricate lies without batting an eye, a chill settled in my heart. I lowered my head, my shoulders began to shake, faking sobs. “Really? Our baby… he…” I sobbed uncontrollably, my body trembling. Julian immediately pulled me into his arms, gently patting my back. “I’m sorry, Elara. I didn’t want to upset you, that’s why I kept it hidden. We were doing it for your own good, for the good of our healthy baby.” I buried my face in his chest, and from the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of Amanda at the doorway. The tense lines on her face finally relaxed, and she even gave Dr. Miller a knowing look. They both thought I believed him. I continued to “sadly” cry, my mind, however, racing. Heart defect? That lie was too clumsy. But why would they tell such a lie? Why were they so insistent on getting rid of the boy and keeping the girl? “Will you really die?” The soft, whiny voice sounded incredibly sad. “Don’t listen to his nonsense.” The fierce voice held a hint of impatience, but more soothing. “We’re boy-girl twins. They’re not afraid of me being sick; they’re afraid of me.” Afraid of him? Why would they be afraid of an unborn infant? Behind this, there had to be a much bigger secret.

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My boyfriend, Brandon, was desperate to claw his way into elite social circles and insisted we go to that high-end club. I wanted to refuse, but his eyes were red as he swore it was his one big break. The moment we entered the VIP room, his childhood sweetheart Tiffany, draped in designer labels, sneered. “Brandon, is this your girlfriend? She looks awfully familiar. Isn’t she one of the dancers here?” “Last week, I saw you giving a lap dance to some old man. You were down to a G-string, but I admit, you have a good figure.” She finished, then feigned regret, covering her mouth. “Oops, sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.” The room of rich kids burst into laughter. “How much for a dance? Give me one too!” Brandon’s face turned crimson, then pale with humiliation. He pointed at the door and told me to get out. But I just slowly settled onto the sofa, watching Tiffany with a smirk. “It’s perfectly normal I look familiar. After all, your father was practically on his knees begging me for an investment last week. Also, this club is the least valuable property in my portfolio.”

To even enter The Summit Club, Brandon had spent half a year’s salary. Standing before its gilded doors, his palms were damp with sweat. He gripped my hand, his hold so tight it almost hurt. “Aria, once we’re inside, just smile and keep quiet.” He instructed me again, his voice trembling. “We can’t afford to offend anyone in there. Don’t you dare embarrass me.” I frowned, trying to pull my hand free, but he tightened his grip even more. “I know you don’t like these kinds of places, but this is about my future.” Brandon’s eyes were red, his words pleading. “If I can just get in with Chad, I can secure that construction project, and we won’t have to be stuck in our cramped studio, surviving on ramen anymore.” Seeing him so tense and yet so excited, I swallowed the words I was about to say. What I wanted to tell him was that I already had a membership card here – one of those Founder’s Black Cards that didn’t require any top-ups. As for Chad, I’d had him thrown out last week for smoking in a private room. But before I could speak, the doorman had already pulled open the grand doors. The moment the doorman saw me, his face went white. He instinctively began to bow and greet me. My gaze chilled slightly. I subtly raised a finger to my lips, signaling him to keep quiet. He reacted fast, stopping mid-bow, though the hand holding the door still trembled. Brandon was too busy taking deep breaths and composing himself to notice anything amiss. Brandon inhaled deeply, straightened his back, plastered on an obsequious smile, and pulled me inside. Pushing the door open, the room was thick with smoke, the music throbbed. A dozen or so impeccably dressed young men and women were sprawled on sofas, the coffee tables laden with expensive liquor. “Is this Brandon?” A guy with a buzz cut, sitting in the center, lifted his eyelids, casually glancing at us. It was Chad. Brandon immediately bent low, offering a box of cigars he’d clearly prepared, and even moved to light one for him. “Chad, hi, we met at the bar last time.” Chad didn’t take the cigar. He just scoffed, his gaze sliding past Brandon and landing on me. In that instant, I saw a flicker of confusion in his eyes. After all, I’d worn the same icy expression when I had him kicked out last week. Just then, a sharp female voice cut through the awkwardness. “Oh, is this Brandon’s girlfriend?” The woman sitting next to Chad stood up. She was wearing the latest Chanel, her makeup flawless, but her eyes held a distinct malice. Tiffany. Brandon’s childhood friend. And the woman who’d always kept Brandon on a leash, treating him like her personal backup. Brandon’s eyes visibly brightened when he saw her, then he looked a bit flustered. “Tiffany, you’re here too.” Tiffany ignored him, walking directly toward me and sizing me up. Then, she covered her mouth, feigning surprise as she exclaimed. “You look so familiar! Aren’t you the new stripper here?”

The music still played, but all other conversations died. A dozen pairs of eyes fixed on me, filled with amusement and disdain. Brandon’s smile froze. He instinctively let go of my hand and took half a step back. That simple action sent a chill through me. I raised an eyebrow, looking at Tiffany’s face, which was practically radiating malice. “Ms. Hayes, you shouldn’t just throw around accusations.” My tone was flat. Tiffany, however, laughed exaggeratedly, bending at the waist. She turned to the people in the room and declared loudly, “Why would I lie?” “Last week, I came here with Chad, and I personally saw her giving a lap dance to some old man!” She gestured with her hands as she spoke. “I saw the man’s back; he was short, fat, and bald, clearly a sleazy, newly-rich guy.” “That day, she was down to just a G-string! Her figure was actually pretty good!” “After the dance, she even left with that old man.” Finished, she turned, looking at Brandon’s ashen face, and blinked innocently. “Oh, sorry. I forgot she’s your girlfriend now. I shouldn’t have said anything.” “But Brandon, you’re so careless. How can you bring this kind of woman to a place like this?” “What if one of the regulars recognizes her? Where would Chad’s reputation stand then?” Her words instantly ignited the room. “Holy crap, she’s a stripper?!” “I knew it! Look at her cheap clothes, probably not even two hundred bucks head to toe. How else would she hook up with Brandon?” “Women these days will do anything for money.” “Dude, she’s openly making a fool of you, and you’re just gonna stand there?” Chad leaned back on the sofa, a smirk playing on his lips as he looked at Brandon, his eyes full of amusement. “Brandon, your taste is certainly… unique.” “How much does your girlfriend charge for a lap dance? Why don’t she give us one today?” Laughter erupted. Someone whistled, someone started chanting for me to take my clothes off. Brandon’s face cycled from green to white, veins throbbing on his forehead. He frantically glanced at the disgusted looks around him, then at me. A flicker of hesitation crossed his eyes. But when Chad’s contemptuous laugh reached his ears, that hesitation twisted into ruthless self-preservation. He yanked his hand from mine, retreating to Tiffany’s side. Then, with an intentionally raised voice, he roared at everyone, “Aria! You’ve disappointed me so much!” “I brought you here to experience the world, and you’ve been doing… such despicable things behind my back!” I looked at the man I’d once thought was honest and reliable. “If I said it wasn’t true, would you believe me?” I countered. Brandon didn’t even look at me. He just gritted his teeth, turning to Tiffany with a placating smile. “Tiffany saw it herself. How could it be fake?” “No wonder you came home so late last Friday night and wouldn’t answer your phone!” “When I asked you where you were, you said you were working overtime! So, this is where you were working overtime?!” He spoke louder and louder, as if volume could drown out his own insecurity. “I’m slaving away for our future, and you’re doing such low-down dirty work behind my back!” “Aria, you disgust me!”

I looked at Brandon’s twisted face and smiled. Last Friday? Yes, I was indeed at The Summit Club, busy handling the equity transfers and management purge. I didn’t answer my phone because I was in a board meeting. And the sleazy, newly rich old man Tiffany described? That was her own father, Mr. Hayes. That day, Mr. Hayes had indeed hired a stripper for a lap dance at this very club, which I own. I was celebrating a friend’s birthday at the club at the time. Later, as my friend and I were leaving, Mr. Hayes suddenly spotted me. He cornered me in the hallway, crying and begging for more investment for his failing company. He even tried to kneel. It took a good while for my security guards to drag him out. “Well? Say something! Cat got your tongue?” Seeing my silence, Brandon assumed I was guilty, and his confidence swelled. Tiffany added fuel to the fire. “Brandon, don’t blame your girlfriend. After all, a place like The Summit Club is so expensive. If she wants a designer bag, she definitely has to pay a price.” She picked up a bottle of red wine from the table and walked over to me. “Since we’re all here to have fun, why don’t you show us what you’ve got?” “This bottle is Chad’s prized collection. If you can chug it all, I’ll consider it your apology.” With that, she flicked her wrist. Over half the bottle of red wine splashed directly onto my clothes. The liquid ran down my collar, soaking my white T-shirt, which instantly clung to my skin. When the wine was thrown, Brandon didn’t even try to shield me. Instead, he quickly jumped away, terrified of getting his expensive suit stained. “Oops, butterfingers.” Tiffany covered her mouth, but couldn’t hide the triumphant gleam in her eyes. “Sweetie, you’re not going to get mad, are you? It’s just a cheap knock-off anyway.” Everyone around roared with laughter. Chad slapped his thigh, pointing at me. “Alright, clean up that mess, and then get out.” “Don’t stand there in my sight, you’re ruining my mood.” I looked down at the wine stain on my chest, then at Brandon, who stood nearby with a look of utter disgust. “Brandon, this is the circle you want to be a part of?” I asked him coldly. Brandon avoided my gaze, gritting his teeth. “How much longer are you going to make a scene?” “Tiffany said it was an accident. Just apologize and leave.” “Don’t make things harder for me here!” Apologize? After being splashed with wine, slandered, and humiliated, he wanted me to apologize? In that moment, I finally understood. In this man’s heart, my dignity meant less than nothing to these trust fund babies. For his petty vanity, he would stomp me into the mud without a second thought. “Alright, fine.” I nodded, reaching for the tissues on the table, and slowly wiped the wine from my hands. “Brandon, remember what you just said.” I crumpled the soiled tissues into a ball and tossed them directly onto Brandon’s suit, the one he’d spent three months’ salary on. “What are you doing?!” Brandon shrieked, frantically batting the tissue ball off his suit. “Aria, are you crazy?! This suit is expensive!” “Since you think I’ve embarrassed you, let’s break up,” I said calmly. “From this moment on, we have nothing to do with each other.” Brandon froze, then his face flushed crimson. “Break up? Who the hell do you think you’re scaring?” “Who would want a dirty woman like you after me?” “Get out! Don’t ever let me see you again!!” He pointed wildly at the door, yelling like a madman.

Tiffany triumphantly linked her arm through Brandon’s, cooing. “Brandon, don’t be angry. She’s not worth it.” “Chad, tell security to kick her out. No need to spoil everyone’s fun.” Chad waved a hand. “Get the manager in here. Let him see what kind of trash they’re letting in.” The VIP room door swung open. Mr. Dawson, the General Manager of The Summit Club, rushed in, sweating profusely. He’d seen me enter this room on the surveillance cameras and was clearly terrified. “Chad, what can I do for you?” Mr. Dawson bowed, his tone deferential, but his eyes darted around the room, clearly searching for me. “Mr. Dawson, has The Summit Club’s standard dropped?” Chad pointed at me, his face full of disdain. “You just let any prostitute walk in here?” “Get her out, and don’t let me see her again.” Tiffany chimed in. “Exactly, Mr. Dawson. This woman is lowering The Summit Club’s class.” “Look, she’s even dirtied the floor. Make her kneel and clean it before she leaves!” Mr. Dawson followed their pointing fingers to me. When he saw the wine stain on my clothes and my disheveled appearance, the color drained from his face completely. He froze in place, his lips trembling, unable to speak. I calmly walked to the main leather sofa. The two trust fund babies who were sitting there instinctively started to curse when they saw me approach. But I just gave them a cold stare, and they inexplicably fell silent, even making way for me. I sat down, crossed my legs, and leaned back into the chair. I picked up an unopened bottle of Romanée-Conti from the table, weighing it in my hand. “Mr. Dawson.” I called out. Mr. Dawson shuddered, then dropped to his knees in front of me with a thud. That sudden genuflection stunned everyone. Brandon’s eyes nearly popped out. Chad’s wine glass slipped from his hand, hitting the floor and shattering. Tiffany’s smile froze. “Boss…” Mr. Dawson’s voice trembled, his forehead pressed to the floor. He didn’t dare lift his head. “This was my negligence. I deserve to die. I’m so sorry you were disturbed!” Boss? The word struck everyone like a hammer. Brandon’s mouth hung open, his eyes fixed on me as if seeing a stranger. Chad’s face drained of all color. He knew better than anyone who truly owned The Summit Club. That was Aria Knight, the heiress of the Knight Empire, a name the entire business elite knelt before. The woman rumored to possess a sharp mind, ruthless tactics, and a fortune in the billions. I ignored Mr. Dawson’s pleas and turned to Tiffany, who was now trembling in terror. “Tiffany, you called that old man short and ugly?” I rose slowly to my feet and advanced toward her, step by step. “Did you know that the ‘creepy old man’ begging me for an investment in the hallway, even trying to kneel, was your own father, Mr. Hayes?” “And this club? It truly is the least valuable of all my assets.”

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On our wedding night, my wife, Sarah, wouldn’t let me touch her. She said she was too tired and asked me to wait a while. But every night, in the dead of night, she’d sneak downstairs to the basement. When she returned, she’d always shower, and an eerie, unsettling smell would cling to her. I asked her what she was doing. She said she was doing yoga. Yoga in the middle of the night? I couldn’t take it anymore. One night, I secretly followed her down to the basement. She spotted me, spun around, and grabbed the collar of my pajamas, yelling: “Get up here!” “You can’t go into the basement!” “Otherwise, we’re getting a divorce!” I clutched the stair railing, trembling with anger. My parents bought this house for us as a wedding gift. This is my home! Why can’t I go into my own basement? As my wife, who does she think she is talking to me like that? I took a deep breath, trying to keep my cool. “Sarah, is that how you talk to me?” Sarah still had a tight grip on my pajama collar, her slender fingers surprisingly strong. “Mark, let’s go upstairs first. I’ll explain everything in the bedroom.” “You can’t explain it here?” I pointed to the pitch-black basement below. “Why can’t I go down there? Don’t I have a right to know?” “I’m doing yoga, and that’s my private space down there. It’s not time to share it yet.” She stepped down a few stairs, blocking my path with her body. “Why?” “Because it’s just not the right time. When it’s ready for you to see, I promise I’ll show you!” My gut twisted with frustration. I took another deep breath, forcing myself to calm down. “If that’s the case, did you really have to snap at me like that?” “I…” She bit her lip. “I was just a little worked up, you know? Besides, you know I’m direct; you’re used to that.” I scoffed and turned to go upstairs. Fine, I’d wait until she left for work tomorrow, then I’d check out what was really going on down there. Back in bed, I tossed and turned, unable to sleep. There had to be something fishy going on in that basement, something serious. Was it a secret Sarah didn’t want anyone to know? I looked at her. She was also awake, staring at the ceiling, lost in thought. I remembered how shocked I’d been when she first asked me out. She was so beautiful, with so many guys after her, while I was just an average-looking guy. What did she even see in me? She’d said she liked my kindness, my quiet demeanor, and the sense of calm I brought her. I believed her. But if that was true, why did she push me away every night? I’m her husband, after all. Was this normal? Finally, I couldn’t hold back. I reached out, wanting to gently caress her cheek. “What are you doing?!” She pulled away like she’d been burned, glaring at me with disgust. The kind of look you give something revolting. I suddenly got it, and angrily turned away. But I couldn’t let that insult slide. If she didn’t have feelings for me, why did she ask me out? Why marry me?! Thinking that, I spun around, glaring at her. “You said you needed time, that we couldn’t be too intimate yet, and I get that. But why such a strong reaction when I just touched you?” “How many times have I explained this? It’s a psychological thing. I’m looking for a therapist, aren’t I? You need to be patient.” Sarah picked up her phone and gently tapped my shoulder with the back of it—she wouldn’t even touch me with her hand. “Mark, please, just give me six months, okay? After six months, I promise I’ll be better.” She tapped me with her phone, not even her hand. Was I really that repulsive to her? Could I even believe her? But right then, I had no choice but to wait. I sighed and rolled over. Truth is, I’d given her everything. From the start of our relationship, I’d done whatever she wanted. She said she liked jewelry, so I bought her expensive necklaces. She wanted to travel, so I took her everywhere. She mentioned investing, so I supported her learning about finance. I gave her everything I had, did my best to get her whatever she wanted. But this is what I got after the wedding. It all had to connect to that basement! I had to find out what was going on!

Morning came. As usual, I made breakfast—Sarah’s favorite. She stayed distant, eating silently without a word to me. Felt like I was her maid, not her husband. After breakfast, I drove her to work. We both worked in sales at the same perfume company, Serenity Scents. After parking, she walked into the building. Once she was out of sight, I quickly told a coworker I’d be out and left the office. I didn’t take my car—instead, I hailed a cab home. I unlocked the front door, rushed into the living room, and headed straight for the basement. When I got there, I froze. The basement door was different! At some point, it had been replaced with a reinforced door with a combination lock! Without the code, there was no way in! I pulled out my phone, took a picture of the door, and started looking up how to open this kind of lock. “What are you doing?!” Sarah suddenly appeared at the top of the stairs, yelling. She hadn’t trusted me and had followed me home! She practically ran down the stairs and slapped me hard across the face. “What did I tell you?!” “You hit me?!” I held my stinging cheek. She continued to yell, “What did I tell you?!” I yelled back, “This is my house! Don’t I have the right to go in? And you couldn’t even tell me you were changing the door?!” “I was just about to tell you!” She raised her hand, ready to strike again. I dodged the slap and pulled out my phone. “I’m calling the cops!” My cheek burned, and I was shaking with anger. We’d barely been married, and she was already hitting me? What was going to happen next?! Sarah panicked immediately, grabbing my hand. “Why are you calling the police?” “This is my house, why won’t you let me in? Why did you hit me just now? Why can’t I call the police?!” I insisted on dialing 911. “Mark, don’t get so upset.” Her voice softened. “I… I was just acting on impulse.” “You get impulsive, so you hit me?” I pulled my hand away. “Let go! I’m calling the police!” She grabbed my hand again. “Mark, is calling the police really necessary? If you think this isn’t working, we can get a divorce.” Divorce?! Hearing that, I stepped back and fell silent. Things were bad, but I didn’t think we were at divorce level yet. Besides, if we split, this house—marital property—would probably get divided, and my parents’ investment would go to waste! There was no way I was letting that happen! “If we get divorced, I’ll get half this house,” Sarah added. “If you don’t want a divorce, we keep things the way they were. Now go back to work.” After thinking it over, I shot her a dirty look and headed upstairs. I had no choice—I couldn’t let my parents’ savings go to waste! “Come back!” I stopped and turned around. “You disrespected me. Don’t you think you owe me an apology? And a promise?” Sarah demanded. I was so mad I punched the stair railing. Blood started gushing from my hand. I gave her one last angry look and left quickly. “Mark, what’s up? You look terrible.” When I got back to the office, my coworker David asked. I mumbled I was fine, sat down, and opened my laptop. My right hand was bandaged, so I had to use my left. I kept my right hand under the desk so David wouldn’t see it. “Hey!” David came over, sat next to me, clapped my shoulder, and winked. “Don’t overdo it on the honeymoon, man. You look exhausted.” I forced a laugh. If only that were the problem. “Tomorrow’s Saturday, and we’ve got that team-building thing. It’s family-friendly, so they want everyone to bring their spouse or partner,” David reminded me. “Missing the main activities could mess with our team’s evaluation and bonus.” I didn’t care about team-building, but I didn’t want to lose my bonus. Sarah, though, loved this stuff—she never missed company events. “If Sarah goes, I’ll go,” I said. “I just asked her, and she’s not going. If that’s the case, you two will lose this month’s bonus!” “I’ll go talk to her.” I stood up and walked to the next cubicle area where she worked. I went in and saw her chatting with two female coworkers. Two months ago, there was a hit-and-run right outside our building—some driver hit a few coworkers and took off. They still hadn’t caught him. The girls were talking about it casually. I walked right up to Sarah and quietly asked, “Are you going to the company team-building event?” “No,” she answered coldly. I whispered again, “If you don’t go, we’ll lose our bonus.” “So what if we do?” “I just don’t think we need to throw away money over this—” “Are you serious?!” Sarah suddenly yelled. “I’m staying home, end of story!” Her voice echoed through the office, and everything went quiet. All the coworkers stared at me, shocked. My face burned—I wanted to crawl under a rock. She’d just yelled at me like that in front of everyone at work! What else could I say? I hung my head and walked away. In that moment, all my fantasies about Sarah died. “Mark, hey, sorry I pushed you about that earlier.” When I got back to my desk, David put his arm around my shoulder and apologized quietly. “It’s fine.” I suddenly remembered something, picked up my phone, and sent him a picture. “David, you know a lot of people. Can you help me figure out how to open this kind of reinforced combination lock door?” David checked his phone, looked at it for a second, and nodded. “Sure, I know a guy who does this stuff. I’ll ask him for you.”

Evening came again. While making dinner, I checked the security camera app on my phone. Just like this morning, the camera was still broken. Had Sarah done this on purpose? I finished cooking and brought the food to the dining room. Sarah got home carrying a cake, but she was acting weird—hiding it from me, tucking it away in the pantry. I caught a glimpse anyway: a fancy French mousse cake. I paused. It wasn’t her birthday or mine. What was she up to? She didn’t say, and I didn’t ask. During dinner, we barely spoke. She acted like a restaurant customer, me like the server. By bedtime, my right hand needed a new bandage. I carefully unwrapped it, put on antiseptic cream, and re-bandaged it myself. Sarah lay next to me, completely ignoring me. “By the way, Mark, what have you decided?” Sarah suddenly asked. I was startled. “Decided about what?” “About the divorce, I mean. Have you thought about it?” she asked again. I scoffed. What was she really after? Did she marry me just for this? I shot back, “What do you think? Do you want a divorce?” Sarah stayed quiet. “If you’re not happy with our marriage, just say so,” I said flatly. “I won’t stop you.” Sarah’s expression darkened. She suddenly turned away from me. “Go to sleep, just go to sleep!” “You said to give you time, that once your psychological issues got better, things would be fine. Remember?” I said pointedly. “We’ll see,” she said sharply. “I’m tired, just go to sleep!” I finished getting ready for bed, turned off the light, and lay down. We shared a bed but lived separate lives—this was pure torture. But for now, I had to tough it out. I must have dozed off without realizing it. Maybe it was muscle memory or just my subconscious at work, but I woke up in the middle of the night. Moonlight filtered into the bedroom—not bright, but enough to see by. I turned my head, and Sarah was gone! She must have snuck down to the basement for her “yoga” again. As I rolled over to get up, I heard a clink and my left wrist suddenly felt heavy! I tugged, and saw a silver handcuff locked around it—the other end chained tightly to the bedpost! Clank! I pulled with all my strength; my wrist burned, but it wouldn’t budge! “Are you kidding me?!” I was livid! Sarah had handcuffed me just to go to the basement! She wasn’t even treating me like a person! Just then, I heard footsteps outside! Sarah was back! In a split second, I flopped back down, pretending to be sound asleep. A minute later, Sarah tiptoed over and sat carefully on the edge of the bed. She gently lifted my left hand, unlocked the cuff, unhooked the chain from the bed, and stashed it away—hardly making a sound. When she was done, she lay back down. Like she was checking if I was awake, she tapped my shoulder lightly with her phone. I didn’t move, keeping up the “asleep” act. She exhaled, apparently relieved, and finally settled in. I caught a whiff of her shower gel, plus a faint cake smell. And mixed in with those was that weird, unidentifiable odor. Had Sarah taken the cake to the basement? Was she eating cake during her “yoga”? Or was there something else hidden down there? I couldn’t make sense of it. Soon, she was breathing softly. I couldn’t sleep though—just lay there staring at the ceiling. Morning came. When I looked in the mirror, I had huge dark circles. I wasn’t exactly a model, but I usually kept myself presentable. Seeing how run-down I looked made me feel even worse. I had to end this—if things kept going like this, the stress would break me. After breakfast, I checked the living room trash can specifically. There was a cake box in there! It was definitely the one Sarah brought home last night! So who ate the cake? Was someone hiding in the basement?! My heart raced. Was Sarah hiding someone down there? Her lover?

“Mark, I heard back from my friend!” David grabbed my arm as soon as I got to the office, talking loudly. With other coworkers around, I quickly shushed him. He laughed, covering his mouth, then leaned in close. “My friend says she can get that door open!” Perfect! I was thrilled. Once the nearby coworkers left, I pulled David over and whispered, “David, I need a favor.” He raised an eyebrow. “C’mon, we’re friends—just say the word!” I checked the office door to make sure no one was coming, then put my arm around his shoulder and murmured in his ear. He nodded as I spoke. “Leave it to me!” We talked it over for ten minutes, then he took off. I stayed at the office, waiting. While I waited, I noticed Sarah sneaking glances my way a few times. She was obviously keeping an eye on me, making sure I wasn’t planning to sneak home again like before. At eleven, David texted: Sorry, couldn’t get the door open. Felt like someone was inside—right when we almost had it, they locked it again. My stomach dropped. We’d underestimated Sarah! Now what? Should I call the cops? If I didn’t, whatever was in that basement would stay a secret forever. But if I did… what if there was nothing? Our relationship would be totally ruined! What was I supposed to do? Quitting time came again. I drove Sarah back to the house. As soon as I pulled into the driveway, she lunged at me—scratching my face, yanking my hair. No warning, just attacking me out of nowhere! “What the hell are you doing?!” I yelled, covering my face. She didn’t say a word—just kept hitting me harder and harder. My face and head burned; I was scared she might actually hurt me badly if this kept up. I fumbled with the seatbelt, unbuckled it, and tried to open the door to get out. She latched onto my arm with one hand to stop me, while the other kept attacking—scratching, punching, hitting my face and body! The pain was too much, so I started yelling for help. She clamped her hand over my mouth to muffle me. Then I remembered the small scissors in the glove compartment. I fumbled it open, grabbed them, and held them up toward her! “Ah!” She yelped and finally backed off. I gasped for air, glaring at her. Her eyes were bloodshot, and she was clutching her left wrist—it was bleeding badly, cut by the scissors! My face throbbed and my head was spinning. “Why the hell did you attack me?” I shouted. “You had it coming!” she snapped. “Had what coming?” “You know exactly why!” Then it hit me—she must have found out I tried to get someone to open the basement door! “You sneaky bastard!” She pointed at me, venom in her voice. “I warned you to stay away from the basement, to leave it alone!” “This is my house! My parents bought it!” I shot back. “And I told you to give me six months! That after six months, things would get better! Don’t you remember?” “I don’t believe a word you say! With that attitude, in six more months you’ll probably kill me!” I’d hit my breaking point. When you can’t take it anymore, you just can’t.

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After Dad went bankrupt, Mom was demanding a divorce. I didn’t fight or argue, just watched coldly as my younger brother Asher pushed me aside and ran to Dad: “Don’t be sad, Dad. I’m here for you!” In my past life, after Mom and Dad split up, Asher went with our wealthy mother while I stayed with our bankrupt father. But Mom remarried a real loser who not only squandered all her money but kicked her out too. Asher suffered right along with her. Meanwhile, Dad built a successful business and got rich again. Consumed by jealousy over my good fortune, Asher caused my death in a car crash. When I opened my eyes again, we’d both gone back to the day the divorce was finalized. This time, Asher gave me a provocative smile and quickly announced, “I love Dad, and I want to go with him.” He had no idea I was smiling even wider inside. I was so done with running and hiding all the time! Asher looped his arm through Dad’s, pouting playfully. “Dad, please let me stay with you! I love you more than anyone, and I’m not scared of hard times.” Coming from Asher—who’d been spoiled rotten and totally self-centered his whole life—those words actually moved Dad. He didn’t even notice Mom’s furious expression beside them. “No way! Asher will suffer if he stays with you. The court will side with me for custody,” Mom stepped forward to object. So Asher would suffer with Dad, but I was just some afterthought? Disposable? In the courtroom, they fought tooth and nail over Asher’s custody, with lawyers throwing around all kinds of documents. I might as well have been invisible—a ghost in the room, completely ignored. In the end, maybe it was Asher’s own firm declaration to the judge that made the difference. Mom reluctantly settled on me, like an afterthought. I got into my stepfather Mr. Waylon’s sleek luxury car with Mom. Asher skipped along, holding Dad’s hand. Before we left, he shot me a smug, challenging look. I didn’t care one bit. After all, Mom was loaded now, and Dad’s situation was a total disaster. In my past life, he dragged me from one hideout to another every day just to avoid creditors. I couldn’t focus on school at all. The business failure and Mom leaving hit him really hard. He completely checked out, drowning himself in cheap booze in our run-down apartment, ignoring everything. Even though I was a straight-A student, I couldn’t afford tuition and had to take care of him, forcing me to drop out early and get a job. Asher, though? He had it way easier than me. He was good-looking and knew how to charm our parents. They both spoiled him rotten. Plus, being the younger one, they always used that old line: I was the big sister, so I had to be responsible and always put my little brother first. Even after the divorce, both parents only wanted him. But this time, he ultimately chose Dad, giving Dad a moment of petty triumph in front of Mom. Sitting in the car, Mom immediately started complaining. “You’re always so quiet and withdrawn. Now that we’re moving in with Mr. Waylon, you need to learn to be more flexible, more clever.” Whatever. The car pulled into an upscale neighborhood with mansions. I knew Mr. Waylon was rich in my past life, but I hadn’t realized he was this loaded. Mr. Waylon enrolled me in the city’s most prestigious private school. I had a private driver taking me to and from school every day. To make up for the education I’d lost in my past life, I hit the books hard. I excelled, maintaining a perfect GPA. Mom, who’d always ignored me before, suddenly couldn’t wait to attend parent-teacher conferences. When she went, other parents would envy her, and teachers would praise her for having such an outstanding kid. And since Mr. Waylon had no kids of his own, I was living pretty comfortably here. I also started thinking about studying abroad. “You’re too young to go overseas. Don’t think good grades mean you can actually take care of yourself.” Before Mr. Waylon could even say anything, my own mother was already shooting down the idea. Later, I learned that real hatred doesn’t need a reason. Not even between a mother and her child.

Mr. Waylon wasn’t the moody, controlling, violent monster Mom and Asher had made him out to be in my past life. In fact, he was incredibly sharp—though definitely proud and strong-willed. It didn’t take long after we moved in for his issues with Mom to surface. Mom was a total trophy wife—all looks, no substance. Honestly, her and Dad had been perfect for each other. Dad had been a trust fund kid with more money than sense. He’d landed Mom purely with his charm and fat wallet. When Grandpa and Grandma were alive, they kept everything together. After they passed, Dad got roped into terrible investments by his so-called “friends.” He gambled away his entire inheritance—everything Grandpa and Grandma left him. Mom immediately found a new sugar daddy and divorced him. My study abroad plans were on hold thanks to Mom’s meddling. But with my grades, I was confident I could get into a top local university. “Asher’s here!” “Ms. Evans, is Mom home?” “Your mom went shopping, but your sister’s upstairs reading.” I heard Asher’s footsteps heading toward my room. He opened my door without knocking. “Leo, cut the act. Nobody’s home—who are you trying to impress with all this studying?” He walked right in and snatched my books. Asher was supposed to be living with Dad, yet almost every month he’d show up demanding money from Mom, plus jewelry and clothes. Every time he left, his car would be loaded up. But the next month, he’d still be wearing ratty clothes. Dad, now a full-blown gambling addict, had long since pawned all his nice stuff for cash to blow. In this life, Dad wasn’t just a drunk—he was a gambler too. Mom actually felt sorry for Asher living such a hard life with Dad. She even talked to Mr. Waylon about letting Asher move in with us. Mr. Waylon actually agreed, but surprisingly, Dad refused to let Asher go. After all, he was using Asher to milk Mom for stuff to fund his lifestyle now. “You’ve studied yourself stupid. What’s the point of all these books? You’re not as good-looking as me, and even Mom and Dad don’t really like you.” “And this good life you’re living? I handed it to you on a silver platter. Enjoy it while it lasts, ’cause it won’t.” He started rummaging through my stuff like he owned the place. He wasn’t wrong—this room had been his in my past life. He searched everywhere. “You don’t even know how to enjoy the good life. What kind of crap is this you’ve got?” “All you do is bury your head in these books every day.” I ignored him, letting him throw his little tantrum. “Is that my sweet Asher I hear?” I watched coldly as they put on their ‘loving mother and son’ act. Mom saw my room was completely trashed. “What good stuff could you find in her room? Come on, let’s go to my room—I just bought tons of clothes and jewelry. Take whatever you want.” With that, she dragged Asher out. She didn’t even look at me, let alone say something like “Are you okay?” Ms. Evans, the housekeeper, brought up a glass of fresh orange juice. She came into my room and started tidying up like it was nothing. “I’ve never seen such a biased mother.” Whatever. Her good times were about to run out anyway.

A few days later, I heard a huge argument downstairs. “You absolute disgrace! Living off my money, wearing my clothes, and you still have the nerve to cheat on me!” Mr. Waylon backhanded Mom hard across the face. Asher immediately jumped in to break it up. Mr. Waylon was so mad he shoved Asher to the floor. “And don’t get me started on your precious son! Didn’t we agree—one kid each?” “Why does he keep showing up here, and every time he does, half my stuff goes missing!” Mom shot back, “My son is taking my things. It’s none of your business!” “Yours? Look at yourself! Everything you’re wearing, every piece of jewelry—I bought it all! Now I have to support your whole freeloading family?!” “Mr. Waylon, how dare you lecture me! If you weren’t sterile, would I even be in this mess?!” Mom’s words pushed Mr. Waylon over the edge. He lost it completely, grabbing Mom’s stuff and throwing it everywhere. She tried to stop him but ended up getting pushed down too. No one in the house dared to interfere. Asher hid in the corner, too scared to move. Mr. Waylon had married Mom because she was beautiful and already had two kids. After we moved in, he treated me more like a protégé—someone he could mentor and trust. But in my past life, Mom had taken advantage of that trust, recklessly wasting Mr. Waylon’s money. Asher, good-looking as he was, had zero common sense. That alone wouldn’t have been so bad. But these two—greedy and stupid… Not only was Mom cheating, but Asher was going around telling everyone Mr. Waylon’s entire fortune would one day be his. Word got back to Mr. Waylon fast. He wasn’t even dead yet, and they were already eyeing his money. Anyone would be ticked off. Mr. Waylon had no choice but to bring in his niece Rachel to train as his business assistant, and kick Mom and Asher out. In this life, Mom still got thrown out. But Mr. Waylon didn’t kick me out. “Leo, you’re better off with me than with your short-sighted, ignorant birth mother.” All my hard work had paid off. Mr. Waylon knew I was smart, driven, and had good judgment. I always put his interests first, consulting him before making any big decisions. I even casually mentioned that I saw him more like a father figure. Of course, my shopaholic mother had no clue about any of this, and she didn’t care anyway. Mom refused to leave, saying she’d rather die than step out of the house. She had no idea who she was dealing with. A self-made man like Mr. Waylon was nothing like my spineless trust-fund father. He wouldn’t fall for her little games. “Ms. Evans, go to the bedroom and pack some of her clothes.” Then he called security. And just like that, Mom and Asher got escorted out. As Mr. Waylon walked past my room, he patted my shoulder. “Leo, focus on your studies. This grown-up drama isn’t your problem.” I nodded. Idiots. No matter how many chances they got, they’d always be this stupid. My life wasn’t affected at all—in fact, Mr. Waylon started trusting me even more. Mom tried to get me to beg Mr. Waylon to take her back. Of course I said no. She called every day, screaming the most horrible things at me. Ms. Evans heard her once and wondered if I was even her real kid. In Mom’s eyes, only Asher existed. Without Mom’s money, Asher’s life got rough. He flunked all his classes and hated school. Dad just let him drop out. But Dad was drowning in debt, and their lives were a total mess. I was focused on studying for college entrance exams. Mr. Waylon had been super busy lately, barely ever home. Not long after, some thugs jumped me on my way to school. Our car was in the shop that day, so I was walking home alone. Right after school, a woman blocked my path. “You Leo?” Before I could answer, someone covered my mouth from behind and dragged me into an old warehouse. As soon as they took the blindfold off, someone kicked me to the floor. “Well, well, big brother. Enjoying life in that fancy house?” Asher walked over, looking down at me like I was dirt.

Asher backhanded me hard. “You bastard. I seriously underestimated you. That old man treats you like a king, and you’re still living there even after Mom got kicked out.” “I want to know exactly what you did to pull this off.” He pulled out a pocket knife, waving it inches from my face. When they saw he had a real knife, the other girls got nervous and stepped in. Maya was Asher’s delinquent girlfriend. Those other girls might have been troublemakers, but they weren’t about to get mixed up with weapons. Maya stepped in to break it up. “Asher, knock it off with the knife. He’s still your brother.” “This piece of trash? He’s not my brother.” He spat right in my face. But he did put the knife away, at least. They beat me until I couldn’t stand, then finally let me go. I limped to a taxi and headed back to the mansion. Only Ms. Evans was home, and she looked horrified when she saw me. “You left this morning perfectly fine. What happened to you?” I was covered in bruises. She cleaned me up gently. That evening, Mr. Waylon showed up after being gone for a while—with Mom, all dressed up like nothing had happened. They’d gotten back together. When Mr. Waylon saw me, he asked what happened. Mom, standing next to him, snapped: “Always getting into trouble. Never learning. Not like your brother, who knows how to behave.” He had his goons beat me up this afternoon, and now he’s walking around our house like he owns the place. “Mom, why don’t you ask who did this to me?” I shot back, angry. “Who else? You must have been messing with the wrong people…” “Leo, what happened?” Mom kept badmouthing me, but Mr. Waylon cut her off. I pointed at Asher. “He had a bunch of guys jump me right outside school.” “Are you crazy? What kind of lies are you telling?” Asher acted all innocent, trying to turn it around on me. I told Mr. Waylon and the police there might be security cameras near the school entrance and the warehouse. The police checked the footage and found Asher’s group on camera. They didn’t catch the actual beating, but it was enough to show what happened. Mr. Waylon looked shocked. He couldn’t believe someone would hire people to kidnap and beat their own brother. “This is sick. This isn’t just some prank.” “How does that prove Asher did it? Leo, you’re unbelievable! I know I haven’t been around much lately, but you don’t have to frame your brother like this!” Mom tried to turn it around, blaming me instead. “Asher, do you know these people?” Asher denied it, saying he was just passing by and had nothing to do with it. “Mom, you have to believe me.” Asher, looking even more upset, suddenly slapped me. I didn’t see it coming. After hitting me, he collapsed into fake sobs. The whole time, he played the victim while I was the one who’d been beaten. “Look what you did! You made your brother pass out! You’re so cruel—I don’t know why I ever had a monster like you!” She helped Asher to his room and even called the family doctor. I was hurt and bleeding, and she didn’t even say a word to me.

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