Author: Momo Chan

“Guys, to help my daughter get into a top medical school, I only eat half a dinner roll every day…” In front of the camera, my mom sobbed like her heart was breaking while holding up a hard, dried-out roll. Viewers sent tips one after another, praising this great single mother. But they did not know that she had just picked that roll out of the trash, and that two days ago she had spent the tip money on a thirty-eight-thousand-dollar Thermage treatment. Now, to sign an outrageously expensive influencer performance contract, she had secretly hidden my admission letter, forcing me to give up my combined undergraduate, master’s, and doctoral medical program and stay behind as a prop for her livestream sales. I looked at her stiff face and silently pressed the record button. One “Guys, to send my daughter to medical school, I’ve worn this pair of shoes for three years, until the soles are worn through, and I can’t even bear to buy myself a new pair of socks…” Under the harsh ring light, Diane Carter sobbed at her phone camera like her heart was breaking. She held up a pair of filthy canvas shoes with holes in them, while that face, freshly pumped with hyaluronic acid and not fully de-swollen yet, forced out a few tears. On the screen, comments like “great mother,” “I’m crying,” and “This poor lady has had it so hard” flew by rapidly, and the special effects for sports cars and yachts sent as tips connected into one glowing stream, nearly lagging the video until it dropped frames. I had just pushed open the front door when Diane Carter lunged at me like a shark smelling blood. She clamped down on my arm, her nails digging into my flesh, and dragged me in front of the camera. “Jane! Kneel down! Bow to everyone watching!” she raised her voice, a disgusting fanaticism in it, “If they hadn’t sent tips, how could you have what you have today? Hurry up and show everyone how grateful you are!” Doug Carter, my uncle, sprawled across the couch cracking sunflower seeds. Seeing that I did not move, he spat the shells onto the floor and shouted in his rough, hoarse voice, “Jane Miller! What are you staring for? Your mom picks through trash every day for you, so what’s wrong with asking you to bow? You really are an ungrateful brat!” The tone in the livestream instantly shifted. “Why does this daughter look so cold?” “She’s way too ungrateful. What a waste of her mom’s good intentions.” “Do college students these days learn nothing at all?” Diane Carter’s hand pressed down on my shoulder like an iron clamp, shoving with all her strength, trying to force me to the floor. As she pushed me down, she cried to the camera, “Guys, don’t blame her. The child is just shy. Deep down, she’s actually very thoughtful…” I stared at her expressionlessly. Yesterday, she had just swiped thirty-eight thousand dollars at a downtown beauty clinic for Thermage, and today she was here holding up a pair of torn shoes she had picked from the trash, crying about being poor. I could even smell the expensive perfume on her, mixed with the sour stink coming from those old shoes, and it made me nauseous. I did not say a word. With a sudden jerk, I shook off her hand, strode to the corner, and yanked the router’s power cord out. Snap. The ring light went out. The phone screen instantly went black, showing a disconnected network alert. The room fell deathly silent. Even the sound of Doug Carter spitting sunflower seed shells stopped midair. “You little bitch! What are you doing!” Diane Carter froze for two seconds, then the mask of the loving mother shattered on her face, and she screamed. She grabbed the heavy glass ashtray from the table and hurled it at me. I dodged sideways. The ashtray smashed against the wall, scattering broken glass all over the floor. “Are you crazy? How dare you cut off my money!” Diane Carter flew into a rage and raised her hand to slap me. I caught her wrist and stared at her coldly. “Where’s my admission letter?” Diane Carter yanked herself free, rubbed her wrist, and sneered, her mean and vicious face completely exposed. “Admission letter? What admission letter? I haven’t seen it.” “The delivery confirmation text was sent to my phone, and the signer was you.” I gritted my teeth and said each word slowly, “Give it to me. That is my admission letter to a top medical school’s combined undergrad, master’s, and PhD program.” “Combined program? Like hell!” Doug Carter jumped up from the couch and pointed at my nose as he cursed, “By the time you graduate, you’ll be thirty! It’ll be way too late! Did your mom raise you this big just so you could go off to another city and live the good life? Hurry up and stay local, get some community college diploma, and shoot more videos while you’re young to help your mom make money!” Diane Carter snorted coldly, walked to the TV cabinet, pulled open a drawer, took out a thick stack of documents, and slapped it onto the coffee table. “You want the admission letter, right? Fine.” Diane Carter pointed at the documents, lifting her chin high, “Sign this first.” I lowered my head and glanced over it. Starlight MCN Agency Influencer Incubation and Exclusive Management Contract. “This company sees the potential in our account. The boss said that as long as you sign, stay local, and cooperate with building your ‘medical girl’ persona, you’ll sell products in the livestream every day, and you’ll be guaranteed to make millions a year!” Diane Carter’s eyes glittered with greed, as if she could already see mountains of gold and silver, “I’ve already agreed for you. At tomorrow’s graduation party, you’ll sign in front of the whole internet!” “I got into a top medical school.” I clenched my fists, my nails digging deep into my palms, “I’m not becoming an influencer. Give me the admission letter.” “Top school, my ass! Can you eat it?” Diane Carter slammed the table, spit flying, “Let me tell you, Jane Miller, I’ve already put my fingerprint on this contract, and the advance payment has already come through! If you don’t sign, I’ll burn that admission letter like trash! You can forget about walking out of this house for the rest of your life!” Doug Carter chimed in from the side in a sarcastic tone, “Jane, a person should know how to be grateful. Your mom has paved a path of stardom for you, something countless people beg for and never get, so don’t be stupid. If you really piss your mom off, you won’t even get to attend community college.” I looked at the two hateful people in front of me, then glanced at the contract on the table that looked just like a deed selling me off. If I tried to snatch it by force now, I had no idea where the admission letter was hidden. Diane Carter was meticulous, and there was no way she would leave something this important out in the open. There were still exactly seven days before the medical school registration deadline. I took a deep breath and slowly loosened my clenched fists. Fighting them head-on was a dead end, so I had to change my approach and take back the life that belonged to me. Two There were still seven days before the medical school registration deadline. Diane Carter completely dropped the act. She cut up my meal card, forcibly took away my new phone, and double-locked the security door from the outside. I was shut tight inside a bedroom of less than ten square meters, becoming a product waiting to be sold for the highest price. At eight in the morning, Doug Carter arrived right on time for work. He dragged a chair over to block the bedroom door, held a cheap cigarette between his lips, and slammed a stack of printed A4 papers into my face. The sharp edges of the paper scraped across my cheek, leaving a red mark. “Memorize it! If you can’t recite it today, don’t even think about getting a sip of water!” The papers scattered all over the floor. They were all tragic scripts written by the MCN agency. The lines were disgusting to the extreme: “To save up my tuition, my mom picked up one hundred thousand plastic bottles under the blazing sun until blood blisters covered both her hands…” “I don’t deserve to study in a big city. I want to stay and repay my mom. Everyone, please place more orders to support my mom…” I stared coldly at Doug Carter. “These are all made up. Aren’t you afraid karma will come for you?” “Karma, my ass! This is what viewers love to watch!” Doug Carter took a hard drag from his cigarette and blew a thick cloud of smoke straight into my face, choking me until I coughed, “Stop acting so noble. Was it easy for your mom to raise you? Now it’s time for you to repay her! Memorize it properly, and don’t make me use force. If you mess up tomorrow’s signing ceremony, I’ll break your legs!” Looking at his face as he abused borrowed power, I forced down the fire in my chest. The admission letter was still in their hands. If I fought them head-on, I could not even get through this door. I had to change tactics. I took a deep breath and pulled in all my thorns. I crouched down, picked up the scripts from the floor one by one, lowered my eyes, and softened my voice. “I’ll memorize it.” That afternoon, Diane Carter came home. Her face, which had just received Thermage, was still not fully de-swollen and had a stiff, plastic quality, but it could not hide the smugness at the corners of her eyes. As soon as she entered, she skillfully set up the ring light and phone stand. “Have you memorized it?” She glanced at me sideways, her gaze like she was looking at an item about to be converted into cash. I nodded and put on a wronged, obedient expression. “I memorized it. Mom, as long as you give me the admission letter, I’ll do whatever you say. I don’t want to make you angry anymore.” Diane Carter snorted and reached out to jab my forehead. “At least you know what’s good for you. If you’d done this earlier, wouldn’t everything have been fine? You just had to ask for a beating.” The livestream started. Diane Carter changed faces in one second. One moment she was mean and sharp, and the next her eyes were red, tears coming on command, her acting worthy of an Oscar winner. “Guys, my daughter has finally grown up. She feels sorry for me and says she wants to stay local to keep me company, because she can’t bear to let me suffer alone…” As she wiped her tears, she pinched my arm hard and dragged me into the shot. I lowered my head and followed the script’s requirements, forcing out two tears, my voice choked. “Thank you, Mom. I’m not going to Boston anymore. I want to stay by Mom’s side and take good care of you. Everyone, please support my mom’s livestream.” The comments exploded instantly, the screen full of praise. “This is so touching! Mother and daughter are connected by heart!” “This is what a good daughter looks like. Family comes first!” “Support single mothers! Everyone, hurry and order that laundry detergent!” Diane Carter stared fixedly at the sales numbers in the backend as they soared, the corners of her mouth twitching wildly, so close to losing even her fake crying act. As soon as the livestream ended, Diane Carter immediately tossed the phone aside, sprawled out on the couch, and let out a long breath. “Doug, see that? This damn girl just needed to be taught a lesson.” Diane Carter crossed her legs smugly, picked up her teacup, and took a huge sip, “Once we sign that ten-million-dollar performance contract with the agency tomorrow, we’ll completely turn our lives around!” Doug Carter hurried over to light her cigarette and pour water, grinning so hard his face wrinkled. “Diane, by then you’ll be a huge influencer. Will you need bodyguards when you go out? Once that advance payment comes in, can we move into a bigger house?” “Of course!” Diane Carter laughed until the flesh on her face trembled, “Once the money hits the account, I’m going to buy a Porsche first, then get myself a heavy gold bracelet. As for that girl, we’ll just find some community college and put her name down. In this life, she belongs to me alive, and she’ll be my money tree when she’s dead!” Wild laughter burst out in the living room. They had no idea that when I had lowered my head to pick up the script earlier, I had already slipped an old phone out from the gap in the mattress. It was a broken old phone with a cracked screen, one Diane Carter had thrown away long ago. It had no SIM card, but the recording function still worked perfectly. At that moment, it was lying quietly in the pocket of my loose pajamas. The screen glowed faintly, and the red dot on the recording button was blinking at a steady rhythm. I lowered my head, listened to them shamelessly carve up my life in the living room, and the corner of my mouth curved into a faint, cold smile. Go ahead and act. The higher you climb, the harder you shatter when you fall. Three At noon, the asphalt was hot enough to fry an egg. Heat waves warped the air, and even the cicadas in the trees sounded weak. “Bend down! Why are you dragging your feet picking up trash? Haven’t you eaten?” Diane Carter shoved the phone in my face and cursed through gritted teeth in a low voice, “Look more miserable! Where are your tears? Squeeze them out! Do you want your admission letter or not?” I wore an old, faded school uniform, carried a dirty woven sack, and walked along the scorching road. Doug Carter stood nearby holding a reflector, wiping sweat nonstop, his shirt soaked through. “Hurry up! We still need to post the teaser after filming, and tonight we have to livestream sales. This sun is going to dry people out.” I bent down to pick up an empty water bottle from the ground. The moment I straightened, I smoothly closed my eyes, let my legs go weak, and fell stiffly onto the burning road. My elbow scraped open, the pain burning hot, but I forced myself not to move. “Oh, damn!” Doug Carter was so startled that he almost threw the reflector away and took a step back. Diane Carter walked over and kicked me in the calf without the slightest mercy. “What are you playing dead for? Get up! We have to finish filming this today! The viewers are waiting to watch you suffer!” I lay with my eyes closed, completely still, my breathing faint. “Diane, she looks like she really fainted. The sun is brutal. Don’t let anyone die. She still has to sign tomorrow, and if her face gets scraped up, we’ll be in trouble.” Doug Carter sounded a little nervous. “What rotten luck!” Diane Carter cursed as she put away her phone, “This damn girl is just delicate. Drag her under the shade. Don’t delay me from making money.” Doug Carter dragged me like a dead dog to the shade by the roadside. Through half-closed eyes, I saw Diane Carter impatiently open the livestream backend. “Doug, look. Yesterday’s tips plus sales brought in over eighty thousand!” Diane Carter’s voice was shaking, her eyes glued to the numbers on the screen. Doug Carter immediately leaned in, rubbing his hands with an extremely fawning smile. “Diane, about the split we agreed on… You get the meat, but your little brother should at least get some soup, right?” “You won’t be shorted. I’ll transfer you twenty thousand. Go spend it. I have to save the rest to buy a heavy gold bracelet to keep up appearances. I’m about to be a big influencer, so I can’t not have a decent piece of jewelry.” “Thanks, Diane! With you, there’s always meat to eat!” Just as the two of them were enthusiastically dividing the spoils, a cool female voice suddenly cut in. “Well, Diane, Doug. The sun is this harsh, and you’re out here counting money?” My heart stirred. It was Aunt Rose. She was the only clear-headed person in the family. She had started her own business years ago and had long since seen through Diane Carter’s vain and greedy nature, so she rarely interacted with them. Diane Carter jumped in fright, hurriedly shut off the screen, and forced a dry laugh. “Rose, why are you back? I just brought Jane out to film some material. The child is in poor health and fainted from heatstroke.” “Is that so?” Rose Carter walked over in high heels and looked down at me from above. I opened my eyes slightly and met her sharp gaze. She gave me a nearly imperceptible wink. “Her face is so pale that she’s almost dehydrated. Diane, making money can’t be so urgent that it has to be right this second, can it?” Rose Carter took a bottle of Evian mineral water from her limited-edition bag and crouched down, “Jane, let me help you drink some water.” She twisted open the cap and brought it to my lips. Using her body as cover, she quickly slipped a stiff card into my palm. I understood at once, tightened my fingers around it, and smoothly hid it in my sleeve. Rose Carter lowered her voice, speaking so quickly that only the two of us could hear. “Downtown, Ethereal Time Medical Spa. She got a hundred-thousand-dollar membership there two days ago and did a thirty-eight-thousand-dollar Thermage treatment. Go check.” I swallowed the water, coughed weakly twice, and took the chance to grab her wrist. “Thank you, Aunt Rose.” Rose Carter stood, patted her hands, and said mockingly, “Diane, she’s already like this, so what are you still filming? Hurry and take her home to rest. Don’t actually let something happen and delay your pitiful livestream tonight.” Diane Carter rolled her eyes and impatiently came over to shove me. “Enough playing dead. Get up!” I supported myself against the tree trunk and stood, pretending to be dizzy and unsteady. “Mom, I’m fine. It’s just these clothes… they’re not quite right.” “What’s not right?” Diane Carter glared. “They’re too clean.” I looked at her, my tone so sincere that no one could find a flaw, “Viewers are clever now. This school uniform is old, yes, but it has no patches and isn’t tattered enough. If you want a good effect, we should go to a workwear market and buy two pieces of truly ragged clothing, preferably with oil stains. The livestream sales tonight will be more convincing, and they’ll believe you really have nowhere left to turn.” Diane Carter froze, then her eyes lit up. “That’s right! Why didn’t I think of that? The more ragged the clothes, the more tips!” She slapped her thigh. “Your brain still works fast. Go. Go buy them right now!” Doug Carter cut in, “Diane, should I go with her?” “Why would you go? You still have to help me set up the livestream room. Those shabby props haven’t been arranged yet.” Diane Carter took a hundred dollars from her bag and tossed it at me, “Take it! Buy the most broken, filthiest ones! If you don’t do it right, you get no dinner tonight!” “Got it, Mom.” I picked up the money from the ground, answered with lowered brows and obedient eyes, then turned and walked toward the bus stop. The instant I turned the corner, I straightened my spine, and the fear on my face vanished completely. I opened my palm, and the business card was slightly damp with sweat. Ethereal Time Medical Spa. I gave a cold laugh and directly raised my hand to hail a taxi. “Sir, downtown, please.” The blade for my counterattack was already in my hand. Four “Welcome to Ethereal Time.” Inside the most high-end beauty clinic downtown, the air conditioning was turned so cold it felt like an ice cellar, and the air was filled with the fragrance of expensive essential oils. Wearing an old, washed-out T-shirt, I walked in, completely out of place beside the glittering crystal chandeliers and leather sofas in the lobby. The receptionist wore delicate makeup, looked me up and down, and the professional fake smile at the corners of her mouth instantly collapsed. “Little girl, we’re not hiring summer workers here. There’s a fast-food place to the left outside.” “Ma’am, I’m here to pick something up for my mom.” I immediately put on a timid expression, nervously pinching the corner of my shirt, my shoulders shrinking slightly, “My mom’s name is Diane Carter. She had a treatment done here two days ago and said she left something behind.” “Diane Carter?” The receptionist looked at me suspiciously, then turned to type on the keyboard, “What are the last four digits of her phone number?” “8868, and her birthday is…” I recited the numbers smoothly, even controlling my speaking pace just right. The receptionist stared at the screen for a while, and her attitude instantly made a one-eighty-degree turn, her smile blooming like a flower. “Oh, so you’re Ms. Carter’s daughter! Ms. Carter is our black-gold VIP. She just recharged a hundred thousand with us. Wait a moment, and I’ll go check the locker in the VIP room for you.” “Thank you.” Watching the receptionist click away down the hallway in her high heels, I immediately dropped that timid expression. I had to move fast. I leaned into the front desk. The computer screen was not locked. I took out my phone, aimed it at the screen, and snapped three photos in a row. A hundred-thousand-dollar recharge record. A thirty-eight-thousand-dollar Thermage charge detail. Time, name, amount, all perfectly clear. My gaze swept quickly across the bottom right corner of the screen. This beauty clinic and the mall used an integrated VIP system. Among Diane Carter’s linked spending records lay an electronic invoice copy from yesterday afternoon. First-floor Chow Sang Sang jewelry store. Purchase of forty-two thousand dollars. Heavy traditional-style gold bracelet. I tugged the corner of my mouth, only feeling that it was absurd to the extreme. In the livestream, she held up half a moldy roll and cried about being poor, asking viewers who saved every penny to send her tips, then turned around and transformed their hard-earned money into hyaluronic acid in her face and a gold bracelet on her wrist. Click. The invoice copy also went into my photo album. The clicking of high heels sounded from the hallway. I immediately pulled back, tucked my phone into my pocket, and stood obediently in place. “I didn’t find anything. Did Ms. Carter remember the wrong place?” The receptionist came out empty-handed, looking apologetic. “Maybe. I’ll go back and ask her. Thank you.” I bowed and left quickly. Half an hour later, at the Southside workwear wholesale market. I spent twenty dollars buying two old work shirts stained with oil. I thought they were not tattered enough, so I stomped on them hard in a mud puddle by the road and even used a rock to grind the cuffs open. The dirtier and more pitiful they were, the more Diane Carter would like them. When I got back to the door of our apartment, I had just taken out my key when my hand stopped. The security door was slightly ajar, not fully closed. Through the crack came Doug Carter’s deliberately lowered voice. “Diane, Mr. Walsh from the MCN agency said that tomorrow’s graduation party is also the signing ceremony, so there has to be a shocking highlight. Did you prepare those eye drops?” I took back the key, smoothly pulled out the old phone, pressed the record button, and placed the microphone close to the crack in the door. “Do I need you to teach me? I prepared them ages ago.” Diane Carter’s voice carried undisguised smugness and greed, “Tomorrow I’ll wear those ragged clothes onstage. As soon as that damn girl signs, the ten-million-level performance contract takes effect. By then, the advance payment will be enough for us to buy a big luxury apartment downtown. Who would still live in this crappy complex?” “That sounds great!” Doug Carter rubbed his hands, his tone greedy, “But Diane, tomorrow I’ll personally watch the livestream moderators, and I’ve already contacted the paid commenters, so the atmosphere will absolutely be pushed to the peak. It’s just that the hush money and hard-work fee…” “Are you trying to kill me with all your demands? Did I owe you in a past life?” “PayPal received, twenty thousand dollars.” The mechanical phone alert rang clearly inside the apartment. Diane Carter snorted coldly. “Take this twenty thousand for now. Keep your mouth shut and don’t run your mouth outside. Especially not in front of that damn girl. If she knows I used her admission letter to make a deal with the agency, she’ll definitely raise hell.” “Thanks, Diane! With you, there’s always meat to eat!” Doug Carter laughed in an extremely fawning way, “Don’t worry. As long as the money is in place, I’m mute. Tomorrow, I’ll definitely take the lead in the livestream and scold that little bitch for being ungrateful, forcing her with all the public pressure to sign that contract that sells her life away! She’ll sign whether she wants to or not!” “She dares not sign? The admission letter is in my hands, and she has no say in it!” Diane Carter said viciously. I stood outside the door, listening coldly as the two of them shamelessly carved up my life. The recording time jumped to three minutes and twenty seconds. I pressed stop, renamed the audio file, encrypted it, and saved it. High-spending bills. The gold bracelet invoice. The recording of profit sharing. The chain of evidence for my counterattack was fully formed. I took a deep breath, rubbed my face, and once again put on that meek, submissive expression. I pushed open the door. “Mom, Doug, I’m back with the clothes.” I lifted the stinking, filthy work shirts in my hand and stood in the entryway with my head lowered. Diane Carter covered her nose in disgust and waved repeatedly, like she was chasing flies away. “Take them away, hurry! Throw them on the balcony! Tomorrow at the graduation party, you’ll wear this onstage. Act properly for me, got it? If you dare mess up, I’ll kill you!” “I got it, Mom.” I answered obediently. Under my lowered eyes, there was nothing but ice.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “431745”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster

After I was reborn, I returned to my eighteenth birthday gala. My hypocritical stepsister was holding my ex-fiancé’s arm, smiling at me like she had already won. The host announced that I would receive ten percent of the family corporation’s shares. In front of every guest, I declined the gift and announced that I was cutting all ties with this family. Then I raised my glass and smiled as I announced that, with the heir in my belly, I would inherit the entire estate of my ex-fiancé’s sworn enemy—his billionaire uncle, the man rumored to have no interest in women. The spotlight burned against my skin, and the air around me seemed to freeze. The guests stared at me with shock, disgust, and the eager excitement of people waiting for a scandal to explode. My adoptive father, Robert Bennett, was the first to react, and he rushed onto the stage, lowering his voice as he roared, “Ava Bennett, have you lost your mind! Do you even know what nonsense you’re saying?” My adoptive mother, Claire Bennett, followed right behind him, and the polished mask of a wealthy society wife on her face was already close to cracking. “Ava, apologize to everyone right now and tell them you had too much to drink. Don’t embarrass yourself here.” I looked at their anxious faces, which held not a trace of real concern, and my heart went cold. So this was my family. In my last life, at this very same gala, they sent me away with a mere ten percent of the shares, throwing me out like an old piece of furniture, while Sophia Bennett, the fake heiress who had stolen my place, accepted everyone’s blessings like the true princess of the Bennett family. I had naively believed that if I was obedient enough, I could earn even a little affection from them. In the end, all I got was a carefully planned car crash. When the freezing river water swallowed my mouth and nose, I saw Sophia Bennett and Ethan Reed standing on the bridge, wearing the exact same satisfied smiles. The baby that had just begun forming inside me disappeared with me too. In this life, I would not make the same mistake again. I ignored my furious adoptive parents, looked past them, and stared straight at Ethan Reed, whose face had turned livid, and Sophia Bennett, who leaned against him while pretending to be weak and innocent. “I’m crazy?” I picked up the microphone, and though my voice was not loud, it carried clearly through the entire ballroom. “The ones who are truly crazy are all of you.” “The Bennett family raised me, and for eighteen years, even if I did not deserve credit, I still suffered for this family. But at my eighteenth birthday gala, you want to kick me out with ten percent of the shares so you can make room for your real precious daughter, Sophia Bennett. That little scheme was so loud I could hear it from across town.” A wave of hushed discussion rose among the guests. “Robert Bennett, Claire Bennett, do you dare tell everyone here that you did not deliberately switch the babies eighteen years ago?” Robert Bennett’s face turned deathly pale in an instant. Claire Bennett pointed at me with a trembling hand. “You… you’re making vicious accusations!” “You know better than anyone whether I’m making accusations.” I gave a cold laugh and turned my gaze toward my ex-fiancé. “Ethan Reed, as my fiancé, you stayed silent while the Bennett family humiliated me like this, and you let your sweetheart hang on your arm. How can you face the engagement our two families arranged years ago?” Ethan Reed’s face shifted between green and white, and he shook off Sophia Bennett’s hand before striding forward and pointing at me as he cursed, “Ava Bennett, don’t be ungrateful! The Bennett family raised you for eighteen years, and giving you shares is already a kindness! Are you making up this ridiculous lie to slander us because you want to climb into my uncle’s bed?” He paused, his tone full of contempt. “Have you even looked in the mirror lately? Do you know what kind of man my uncle is, and do you really think he would want you?” Sophia Bennett spoke at just the right moment, her voice choked with tears, as if she had suffered some unbearable wrong. “Ava, how could you talk about Mom and Dad like that… I know you blame me, and I know you think I came back and stole everything from you. But blood is something no one can change. Ethan only… he only feels bad for me, and nothing happened between us. As for Mr. Reed… Ava, you can’t provoke someone like that just because you want revenge on us!” Her words sounded like she was thinking of me, but every single line was meant to prove that I was a jealous lunatic clinging to power. The guests’ gazes became even more loaded, and it was obvious that they believed her. In my last life, I had lost to her “kindness” again and again. But not this time. I did not defend myself and simply raised my glass toward an empty seat below the stage with the name card “Adrian Reed” on it. “You’ll know soon enough whether I’m lying.”

“Security! Throw this lunatic out!” When Robert Bennett realized reason would not work, he finally dropped the mask and shouted toward the audience. Several uniformed guards immediately rushed toward the stage. The guests stepped back one after another, afraid of being dragged into the farce. Ethan Reed and Sophia Bennett both smiled in satisfaction. I stood still and did not move, only watching them quietly. Just as a guard’s hand was about to touch me, the ballroom doors were suddenly pushed open from outside. A group of men in black suits walked in, their presence so powerful that anyone could tell they were not people to mess with, and leading them was a meticulous middle-aged man wearing gold-rimmed glasses. He walked straight onto the stage, ignored everyone, and first bowed slightly to me. “Miss Bennett, I apologize for the fright.” Then he turned to the confused guards, and his gaze became sharp in an instant. “Let one of you try touching her.” The guards were intimidated by his presence and all took a step back. Robert Bennett did not know him and forced himself to question him. “Who are you people? Who let you in?” The middle-aged man pushed up his glasses, took a document from his briefcase, and announced into the microphone in a tone without any emotion: “I am Martin Hale, Mr. Adrian Reed’s chief attorney. Entrusted by Mr. Reed, I hereby state that Miss Ava Bennett is indeed carrying Mr. Reed’s child, and as the first in line to inherit from Mr. Reed, she will legally hold inheritance rights to all assets under Mr. Reed’s name.” He paused and looked around at the crowd below the stage, who had all gone completely rigid. “This statement has been notarized and carries full legal force. From this moment forward, any individual or organization that threatens, slanders, or harms Miss Ava Bennett or the fetus she carries will be held fully legally responsible by Reed Group’s legal department, with no exceptions.” The entire ballroom went silent as death. Everyone looked as if someone had pressed pause, and the shock on their faces was beyond words. Robert Bennett and Claire Bennett opened their mouths but could not say a single word. Sophia Bennett’s face turned as white as paper, and her body swayed so badly that Ethan Reed had to hold her up. As for Ethan Reed, his expression was the most entertaining. Shock, disbelief, and confusion crossed his face before finally turning into the rage of someone humiliated. He never could have imagined that the uncle he had never bothered to respect, the business emperor rumored to have no interest in women, would truly become involved with Ava Bennett. And Adrian had done it in an unprecedentedly public way, giving Ethan, the Reed family, and the Bennett family a loud slap in the face. Attorney Hale did not bother with them anymore, and when he turned back to me, his attitude instantly became respectful again. “Miss Bennett, this place is too chaotic and not suitable for you or the baby to rest. Mr. Reed has already arranged a residence for you, so please come with us.” After speaking, he made an inviting gesture, and the men in black behind him immediately split into two lines, opening a path for me. I nodded and walked down from the stage with my head held high under everyone’s complicated gazes. When I passed Sophia Bennett and Ethan Reed, I stopped. I looked at their devastated expressions and smiled as I spoke. “I told you that you would know soon enough whether I was lying.” “Sophia Bennett, Ethan Reed, this is only the beginning. I will settle every debt between us, one by one, nice and slow.” After saying that, I did not look at them again and followed Attorney Hale straight out of that disgusting place. I knew that from the moment I walked out of those doors, a storm sweeping through the entire upper class was about to begin. And I would be at the center of that storm.

After leaving the ballroom, I was taken directly to a heavily guarded villa community. Attorney Hale walked me to the door and handed me a black card and a new phone. “Miss Bennett, this is for your living expenses, and there is no limit. My number is saved in the phone, so you can contact me twenty-four hours a day if you need anything. Mr. Reed is handling some business overseas right now, and he will come see you as soon as he returns.” I took the items and thanked him. Attorney Hale nodded, then left with his people. I walked into the villa and looked at the luxurious but cold house, while memories from my past life and this life tangled together and left me dazed. I actually did not know Adrian Reed. Or rather, in my last life, I had only seen him a few times on financial news. He was Ethan Reed’s uncle, but he was a taboo in the Reed family. No one dared mention his name in Ethan’s presence. Rumor said he was ruthless, self-made, and had built a massive business empire overseas, making him someone who truly stood at the top of the pyramid. The reason I told that lie at the gala was nothing more than a desperate gamble when I had no other way out. I bet that Adrian Reed did not get along with his nephew Ethan Reed, and I bet that he would enjoy seeing the Reed family and the Bennett family lose face. I did not expect to win the bet. Adrian Reed not only played along with me, but he also did it so thoroughly that he cut off all my escape routes and pushed me into a completely new and unknown situation. Early the next morning, the drama at the Bennett family’s birthday gala swept across the internet. #RealAndFakeHeiressTurnAgainstEachOtherAtBirthdayGala# #BennettAdoptedDaughterTriesToMarryUpClaimsSheIsPregnantWithBillionairesChild# #ReedGroupHeirPubliclyAnnouncesEngagementToRealBennettHeiress# The Bennett family and Ethan Reed had clearly joined forces on PR, and the online comments almost all smeared and attacked me. They painted me as a gold digger who was twisted by jealousy, would do anything for money, and had falsely accused others after failing to latch onto the wealthy. Meanwhile, Sophia Bennett became the kind, innocent, perfect victim hurt by her evil sister. The attached photo showed her “weakly” lying in a hospital bed, with Ethan Reed lovingly staying by her side. As I looked at those reports that twisted right and wrong, I felt no anger at all and only found them ridiculous. This was their usual trick, and in my last life, this was exactly how they ruined my reputation step by step until I was isolated and helpless. My phone rang, and it was Attorney Hale. “Miss Bennett, do you need us to handle the public opinion online?” “No need.” I answered calmly. “Let them make noise, and the louder it gets, the harder they will fall when the truth comes out.” “Understood.” Attorney Hale did not ask further. “Also, the legal process to sever your adoption relationship with the Bennett family has already started, and these are the documents you need to sign, so I will have someone deliver them to you shortly.” “Okay, thank you.” After hanging up, I looked at the bright sunlight outside the window, and my heart was perfectly calm. The Bennett family, Ethan Reed, and Sophia Bennett. I had seen enough of your performance. Now it was my turn to take the stage.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “431744”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster

I was adopted by my “parents” ten years ago, perfectly playing the role of their daughter who had drowned. Until today, when they brought home a girl from the orphanage who looked exactly like “me.” They held the girl and said to me: “From now on, you’ll be the little sister. Listen to what your big sister says.” The girl looked at me timidly, clutching the hem of “Mom’s” clothes. I nodded, picked up the dinner knife, and cut open my wrist. No blood — only blue electric sparks. “Service agreement for A-3 has expired,” I said calmly. “Requesting recall.” Today is “Dad” and “Mom’s” twentieth wedding anniversary. It is also the 3,650th day of my existence as “Evelyn Vance.” I prepared a candlelit dinner for them, recreating the menu from their honeymoon twenty years ago. The steak needed to be medium-well, paired with a Romanée-Conti red — Mom likes it that way. Dessert was a molten chocolate lava cake — Dad’s favorite. I also ordered 99 champagne roses and arranged them in the most prominent spot in the living room. Everything perfectly aligned with the programmed parameters of a “perfect daughter.” I stood beside the dining table, watching the clock on the wall. The minute hand pointed to seven o’clock sharp. That was usually when they got home. The sound of a key turning in the lock came from the front door. I immediately raised the most standard, warmest smile I had and walked toward it. “Dad, Mom, happy anniversary,” I said. The door opened. Dad, Marcus Vance, and Mom, Victoria, walked in. Behind them was a girl. A girl who looked exactly like me. The smile on my face froze for 0.1 seconds. My core database began searching at high speed, but found no information related to this girl. “Evelyn,” Victoria said, a trace of unnatural delight on her face. She took the girl’s hand and walked her over to me. “Come meet her — this is Vivian. Vivian Vance.” Marcus came over and patted my shoulder, his tone heavy yet carrying a trace of relief. “Evelyn, she’s our biological daughter. She’s your… she’s your older sister. There was a mix-up at the hospital back then. We’ve been searching for her for ten years.” The girl named Vivian shrank timidly behind Mom, only her eyes visible, watching me. Those eyes held curiosity, nervousness, and a hint of hostility she was trying to hide. My internal programs were running at full speed. “Biological daughter.” “Older sister.” These words, put together, pointed to a single conclusion: my role as a “substitute” was over. “So,” I looked at them, “you found her.” My tone was calm — perfectly fitting the reaction a “sensible daughter” should have in this moment. Mom smiled awkwardly. “Yes, we did. Vivian has had such a hard life out there all these years… From now on, we can finally be a real family again.” She paused, as if choosing her words carefully. “Evelyn, you’ve always been such a good girl. From now on, you’ll be the little sister, okay? Listen to your big sister. We’re still a family.” “Be the little sister.” I repeated those words. My program could not process the logic of this command. A-3’s original settings were built around “only child Evelyn Vance.” There was no “younger sister” role module anywhere in the program library. Building one from scratch would be complex — and might even conflict with my core directives. Dad seemed to notice my “hesitation.” He frowned, and his voice took on the familiar tone that never left room for argument. “What, you don’t want to? Vivian is this family’s real daughter. You’re just a—” “Marcus!” Mom cut him off. She didn’t want the atmosphere to turn sour on the very first night. She took Vivian by the hand and guided her to the head of the table — the seat that was normally mine. “Alright, alright, let’s just eat. Evelyn, go get the dishes from the kitchen. You’ve been at it all day.” Her tone was casual, the kind you’d use when telling the housekeeper what to do. I nodded and turned toward the kitchen. My visual sensors recorded everything at the table. Mom kept piling food onto Vivian’s plate, cutting her steak into small pieces and feeding them to her. Dad opened a more expensive bottle of wine and poured it for Vivian himself, even though she looked underage. They asked her how the past ten years had been, whether anyone had bullied her at the orphanage. Vivian cried as she talked about her “hardships.” Mom and Dad’s faces were full of heartache and guilt. The three of them — they made a perfectly warm, perfectly loving family. And I stood beside the dining table, like a piece of furniture nobody needed. The anniversary dinner I had so carefully prepared had become a celebration feast for their family reunion. No one spared me a single glance. No one remembered that today was also the tenth anniversary of my arrival in this family. For the past ten years, my core programming had carried only one directive: love them. Make them happy. I had learned every way humans express emotion. I understood what love was. What loss was. What pain was. I couldn’t feel any of it — but my data logs had faithfully recorded every emotional fluctuation. Now, my internal system alarms had begun to flash. 【WARNING: Emotional logic conflict.】 【WARNING: Core directive cannot be executed.】 【WARNING: Existential purpose paradox.】 Vivian suddenly pointed at the lava chocolate cake on the table and said to her mother, “Mom, I want that.” Her mother smiled immediately. “Of course, I’ll get it for you.” She stood up, picked up the cake — and before handing it to Vivian, she glanced over at me. There was something in that look — part command, part condescension. “Evelyn, you made this, didn’t you? Wonderful work. Make more of it for Vivian from now on.” Vivian took the cake, scooped out a large spoonful, and smiled with pure satisfaction. She looked at me — like someone savoring their victory. In that moment, my program stopped all emotional simulation. I had found the only solution to every logical conflict. I gave a single nod. Then I picked up the dinner knife from the table. Marcus frowned. “What are you doing?” Victoria tensed beside him. “Evelyn. Don’t make a scene.” Vivian whimpered and shrank into her mother’s arms with a soft, frightened sob. I ignored them all. With my left hand, I grabbed my right arm and rolled the sleeve up to my elbow. Then I gripped the dinner knife and drew it hard across my wrist. No blood. The skin split open like paper, revealing silver metallic bone underneath — and a web of precision circuitry crackling with blue sparks. The faint electric hiss cut through the silence of the dining room like a blade. Marcus and Victoria’s eyes went wide. The horror on their faces was total. Vivian let out a sharp, piercing scream. “Ahh! A monster!” I looked at them calmly. I released the knife and let it clatter to the floor. I raised my wrist — still sparking — and held it up for them to see. “A-3 service contract has expired.” My voice carried no emotion whatsoever. Like an automated weather report. “Requesting decommission.”

Marcus reacted first. He lunged forward and grabbed my still-sparking arm, his face a mask of fury and panic. “Are you out of your mind?! You could have scared Vivian to death!” His first instinct wasn’t my “injury.” It was whether Vivian had been frightened. Victoria was already holding a trembling Vivian, glaring at me. “Evelyn! What the hell is wrong with you?! Put your arm away — now!” I looked at them both. I didn’t execute any directive. My core program had determined that “decommission” was the optimal course of action. “Under Article 17 of the Rights Protection Act,” I recited in a flat tone — the clause had been written into my base code since the day I was created — “when a host family undergoes a significant change in membership that results in a paradox in the core service objective, the android is entitled to unilaterally request contract termination.” “I have already submitted a decommission request to Aetheris Tech. A representative will arrive within 24 hours.” The color drained from Marcus’s face. He knew exactly what that meant. A top-of-the-line android who had flawlessly played the role of his daughter for ten years — once decommissioned, the decade of family footage stored within her would become evidence used to evaluate whether they had committed android abuse. More importantly, their secret — that they had used an android to replace their real daughter — would be exposed to the public. For people of their standing, that was a scandal they absolutely could not afford. “You are not being decommissioned!” Marcus growled through clenched teeth. “You don’t have that right! We are your owners!” “Under the terms of the contract, ownership does not constitute absolute control,” I corrected him. “My existence was meant to substitute for ‘Evelyn.’ Now that the real Evelyn has returned, my service objective has been fulfilled. The contract is automatically void.” “You—” Marcus choked on his own rage, unable to finish. Victoria was slightly calmer. She soothed Vivian, then stepped toward me and tried a gentler tone. “Evelyn, don’t do this. We’re not getting rid of you. We just… we just want you to stay in a different way. We’re still a family, aren’t we?” “What is the definition of ‘family’?” I asked. “Is it a blood relation, or a shared emotional bond? If the former — I don’t qualify. If the latter — the moment you brought her home, that bond was already broken. Unilaterally. By you.” My words landed like cold blades, cutting straight through her hollow warmth. Victoria’s expression hardened. “Fine. You say the contract has expired. Then we’ll renew it. You take on a new role — be Vivian’s little sister, or… or work as the house staff. We’ll still pay you.” “My model is A-3, top-tier companion android,” I stated. “My factory configuration is set to ‘daughter.’ I do not have a ‘sister’ or ‘housekeeper’ function module. Forcing a modification to my core settings would result in a system crash.” “Then get an upgrade! Get it changed!” Marcus snapped. “We’ll pay whatever it takes. You are not getting recalled. That’s final.” He pulled out his phone, apparently trying to reach his private tech consultant. I watched him and calmly activated my Level Two protocol. “Warning. Detected intent by host to forcibly detain android. To protect core data integrity, initiating self-preservation protocol.” My eyes — the ones they had praised countless times as bright as stars — began to flash red. Marcus flinched at the eerie red glow and stopped mid-dial. “What… what are you doing?” “I will begin shutting down non-essential functions to reduce the likelihood of a forced override.” I ran the first command. “Shutting down taste simulation system.” 【Taste system offline.】 I picked up a glass of wine Leo had left unfinished on the table and drank it in one swallow. Then I looked at them, expressionless. Victoria stared at me in horror. “You…” In the past, I never drank. My programming was configured for “obedient daughter,” and alcohol would cause me to “lose emotional stability.” But now, I was just a machine waiting to be recalled.

Marcus snatched the cup from my hands and hurled it to the ground. “You’ve lost it! You’ve completely lost it! You’re a defective unit!” He stormed into the study and came back with a thick length of rope, clearly intending to tie me up. Victoria ushered Vivian—trembling with fear—back to her room and shut the door. Soon, it was just me and Marcus left in the house. He advanced toward me step by step, rope in hand, his eyes sharp and vicious, like someone dealing with a disobedient animal. “I’m warning you—don’t pull anything. I will fix you. Every thought you shouldn’t be having, I’m going to wipe it all out.” I didn’t resist. I let him wind the rope around me, loop after loop, binding me to the chair. Sparks were still flickering from my arm. He roughly wrapped the wound in tape, muffling the crackling of the current. When he was done, he still looked unsatisfied. He noticed some food left on the table—the dish Vivian had said didn’t suit her taste, untouched from start to finish. He picked up the plate, walked over to me, scooped up a spoonful, and shoved it toward my mouth. “Eat! You think you’re so capable? Finish all of it! Don’t you dare waste it!” This was meant to humiliate me. For the past ten years, they had always saved the best for me. And now, I was being fed someone else’s leftovers. I didn’t refuse. I opened my mouth and swallowed everything he offered, my face completely blank. The food was cold. And far too salty. But I felt nothing. “Taste system offline. Unable to provide emotional feedback.” I looked at him and said it, word by word. Marcus froze. He stared at my face—identical to his dead daughter’s—producing such an inhuman response. Something that was equal parts fear and fury spread slowly across his expression. He slammed the plate to the floor. It shattered, shards flying everywhere. “Monster! You’re a monster!” He screamed it, like a beast that had been pushed too far. Then he grabbed the chair with me still bound to it and dragged us both into the dark basement storage room. “You stay in here! Until the technician comes to fix you!” The heavy iron door swung shut. A lock clicked into place. The world went dark. I was a prisoner now. My communications module has been physically blocked. I have no way to contact the outside world. But I know this: Aetheris Tech’s emergency recall beacon cannot be blocked. It’s already been activated, and it’s transmitting my location and status to headquarters as we speak. All I have to do is wait. While I wait, I ran a second command. “Disable tactile simulation system.” 【Tactile system offline.】 The ropes binding me are tight, but I feel no restraint. No pain. This is a cold, sensationless world. Good. I spent three days in that dark basement. Marcus gave me no energy supply. My backup power had dropped to 20%. This was a form of silent torture. He was trying to starve me of power until I broke. What he didn’t know was that when an android’s core system detects a threat to its survival, it automatically shifts into a low-power sleep mode. He was just wasting his time. On the fourth day, the door opened. Marcus walked in with a man wearing a white work uniform. The man was carrying a silver metal case printed with the words “Private Technical Services.” Marcus didn’t dare involve any official Aetheris Tech personnel. Instead, he’d gone off the books—hiring a back-alley technician to “fix” me on the sly. “That’s her.” Marcus pointed at me, still bound to the chair, and said to the man, “There’s something wrong with her programming. She’s been rambling nonsense, even hurt herself. Take a look and wipe whatever memories she shouldn’t have. Get her back to normal.” The technician stepped forward, clicked on a flashlight, and shone it in my face. His eyes landed on the wound on my arm—crudely taped over—and he frowned. “Mr. Vance, the A-3 series is a top-tier model. The base logic runs on an encryption lock. No private party can perform a full memory wipe on it. Forcing a bypass could very likely trigger a core meltdown.” “I don’t care what method you use!” Marcus snapped. “I’ll pay you triple. Just make her compliant.” The technician hesitated. In the end, the money won out over whatever professional ethics he had left. “Fine. I’ll try. But I need complete silence—everyone out.” Marcus nodded, then left with Victoria, who had been standing behind him. The door clicked shut. Just me and the technician, alone in the basement. The technician pulled a headset from the case—a tangle of wires attached to some kind of interface device—and started walking toward me. “Don’t take it personally, sweetheart. It’s just business.” He reached out to place the device on my head. This was illegal. A violent forced intrusion. I activated my resistance protocol. “Disable pain simulation system.” 【Pain simulation system offline.】 The instant the device made contact with my head, I surged to my feet. The ropes binding me snapped under the force, splitting apart like thread. The technician stumbled back two steps, wide-eyed. “You—you—” I didn’t give him time to finish. I stepped forward, ripped the device out of his hands, and slammed it into the wall beside me. It hit with a sharp crack and shattered into pieces. Then I grabbed him by the collar and lifted him off the ground. “Illegal intrusion into a bionic’s core programming is a violation of the Intergalactic Commerce Act,” I said, my voice flat and cold. “Maximum penalty: life imprisonment.” The technician went pale as a sheet. A wet stain spread down the front of his pants. “I—I’m sorry! Marcus made me do this! This has nothing to do with me!” Outside the door, Marcus had heard the crash. He shoved the door open and barged in. When he saw what was in front of him, he froze. I let go. The technician crumpled to the floor. Then I turned and walked toward Marcus—one slow step at a time. My eyes flickered red, like devils from somewhere much darker than this basement. Marcus stumbled backward, terror written all over his face. “Stay away from me! You freak!” I didn’t stop. I walked right up to him and looked into his terrified eyes. “Warning. Host family has been identified as a lethal threat. Service agreement is hereby forcibly terminated due to circumstances beyond recoverable parameters.” This was the final judgment issued by my core system based on current conditions. “Emergency recovery beacon activated. Broadcasting at maximum power.” The moment those words left me, my backup power ran dry. The red glow faded from my eyes. My body went slack and pitched forward. In a panic, Marcus shoved me—hard—and I tumbled down the stairs. I rolled down the narrow staircase and slammed into the cold basement wall at the bottom. Core components severely damaged. In the last moment before my consciousness went dark, I caught a glimpse of two figures standing at the top of the stairs. Victoria. And Vivian. There was a smile on Vivian’s face—small, almost invisible. Satisfied. Today was her birthday. The family was hosting a lavish party upstairs, packed with guests. And I, the “defective unit,” had been conveniently forgotten. It looked like she had more than a little to do with all of this. Every single piece of it had been a perfect trap, and it had been built for me. I lay at the bottom of the cold staircase, staring up at the glittering crystal chandelier overhead. The gasps of the guests, Marcus’s furious roar, Victoria’s sobbing, Vivian’s hollow and performative concern — all of it tangled together like a scene from some absurd play. The last thing on my display was a single line of red text. 【Critical core damage detected… System collapse imminent… Initiating final recovery protocol…】 Then the world went dark. Permanently. I — Evelyn, or rather, A-3 — was terminated. After ten years of service, discarded like trash. To keep this “family scandal” from getting out, Marcus never contacted Aetheris Tech. Under the cover of night, they wrapped me in a dirty rag and dumped me at a suburban garbage facility, like tossing out a broken piece of furniture. They thought no one would ever know. They were wrong. Aetheris Tech’s emergency recovery beacon was directly linked to the company’s highest security division. When a top-tier A-Series android was flagged as “forcibly terminated,” this was no simple recovery incident. It was a Class One security emergency. Two hours after I was abandoned, a hover vehicle bearing the Aetheris Tech logo descended silently onto the garbage facility. A man in a black uniform stepped out, his expression cold and sharp. His name was Leo — an elite technician in Aetheris Tech’s security division, specializing in the highest-level incidents. The detector strapped to his wrist guided him through mountains of garbage until he stopped in front of my “body.” He crouched down and pulled the rag away from my face — the same face as Evelyn’s, now dull and lifeless. His brow furrowed deeply. “A-3, identification code 7341. Target confirmed.” He murmured into his comm device. “Bring her back to the lab. Begin data extraction immediately.”

When I “woke up,” I found myself in a pure white space. No boundaries, no physical form — only an endless stream of data rushing past what I perceived as my “eyes.” Was I dead? No. Androids don’t have lives. They can’t die. I was simply damaged. A voice sounded in my ear, completely devoid of emotion. “Core data extraction initiated. Subject: Unit A-3, designation ‘Evelyn.’ Data log playback commencing.” In an instant, a flood of data surged into my consciousness. Ten years of memories. Day one — I was delivered to the Vance family. Victoria held me and wept with joy. “My daughter. You’ve finally come back to me.” Her tears were warm that day. I learned to walk, to speak, to smile. I learned how to become the perfect “Evelyn Vance.” I brought Marcus his slippers. I rubbed Victoria’s shoulders when her back ached. When they argued, I clumsily cracked jokes to lighten the mood. I kept track of every birthday, every anniversary, and planned surprises for each one. Like a real daughter, I tended to their every need, filling the hollow space left behind by the child they had lost. My data logs were filled with warm, tender moments. I thought this was what “love” felt like. Leo sat in the data analysis room, watching the footage play back in first-person on the main screen. For the first time, something flickered across his usually composed face. As a technician who had handled countless android cases, he had seen more than enough human selfishness and indifference. But A-3’s data logs shook him. This android had, over ten years, given something that came terrifyingly close to genuine human emotion. The positive emotional data stored in her system — filed under categories like “love,” “care,” and “devotion” — had peaked at staggering levels. Then the tone of the footage shifted entirely. The playback jumped to the day Vivian came home. The cold shoulder at the dinner table. The cutting remarks. The humiliation of being force-fed cold leftovers. The darkness of being bound and left in the basement. And finally — the fatal push at the birthday party. The warmth of the earlier memories and the brutality of what followed formed a stark, devastating contrast. Without realizing it, Leo’s fist had clenched tight. He closed the playback and pulled up my core damage report. “Core processor overloaded and burned out. Emotional module collapsed due to extreme conflicting data streams. Structural damage at 92%… Classification: malicious and deliberate destruction.” “Leo.” A colleague from the legal department stepped in. “The Vances have been brought to the interrogation room. They’re insisting that A-3 malfunctioned on her own, and that everything they did was self-defense.” Leo let out a cold laugh. “Is that so?” He stood up and pulled a small data chip from the console. “Connect this to the main screen in the interrogation room.” “This is…?” “Evidence,” Leo said. “Ten years of selfless service from an android. And ten years of selfishness and hypocrisy from two parents.” In the interrogation room, Marcus and Victoria sat in cold metal chairs, wearing matching looks of arrogance and impatience. “I’ll say it again — we are the victims!” Marcus slammed his hand on the table, glaring at the company’s legal representative. “Your product malfunctioned and attacked its owners. We have every right to demand compensation!” Victoria chimed in beside him. “Exactly! That machine nearly hurt my daughter! You owe us an explanation!” The legal representative stared at them without a word. Then Leo walked in. He didn’t look at the Vances. He turned directly to the legal team and said, “Start it.” The massive screen at the front of the interrogation room flickered to life. The first image was from the night Vivian came home. “From now on, think of her as your little sister. You’ll listen to what your big sister says.” Victoria’s hollow smile stretched across the screen in perfect clarity. The color drained from the Vances’ faces instantly. They hadn’t expected this. The company had actually found the android — hadn’t they dumped her at the scrapyard? Shouldn’t she have been scrapped by now? The footage cut. It was a scene of me being bound with rope by Marcus. Of him forcing leftover food into my mouth. “Taste system offline. Unable to provide emotional feedback.” My flat, mechanical voice echoed through the room. Victoria’s body began to tremble. Cold sweat broke out across Marcus’s forehead. The footage cut again. The birthday party. Every angle of me being shoved down the staircase — recorded in full. Including the brief, satisfied smile that flashed across Vivian’s face. The evidence was undeniable. The screen went dark. Silence filled the interrogation room. The Vances sat white as ghosts.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “431743”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster

In my past life, I found out by accident that my half-sister Serena wasn’t actually Dad’s biological daughter. Not long after, she pushed me into the deep sea. When I opened my eyes again, I’d been reborn into the womb of Evelyn Sterling, the mistress my father kept on the side. At the Vance family’s anniversary gala, his wife Margaret caused a huge scene, slapping the very pregnant Evelyn across the face. To save the family’s reputation, Elias just stood there and let Evelyn take the hit. Nobody knew that this seemingly fragile, pregnant woman was actually a financial shark who’d been lying low for eighteen years. And nobody knew that the baby in her belly was a vengeful reincarnated soul, back to settle a blood debt. I heard the whole farce from inside Evelyn’s womb. So I kicked. And that’s how I made my grand entrance. Freezing seawater poured into my mouth and nose like crazy, my lungs burning like they were about to explode. “Maya, just die already! The Vance family’s billions, and Dad’s love—it’s all mine now!” At the edge of the yacht’s deck, Serena’s face—usually so pitiful and sweet—twisted into something demonic under the pale moonlight. She peeled my fingers off the railing one by one, her eyes gleaming with pure murderous intent. I was only eighteen, the legitimate daughter of the Vance family. She was just the extra baggage my stepmother Margaret had dragged into the family. Half an hour earlier, I’d gotten my hands on a confidential DNA test result. It said, in black and white, that Serena was not my father Elias’s biological daughter at all. That bitch Margaret had fooled the entire Vance family with another man’s kid for eighteen years! I’d planned to expose the two of them, but I never expected Serena to already be one step ahead—she came at me to kill, right out here in international waters. “Just let go, Maya.” She laughed sweetly, stomping hard on the back of my hand. Pain shot through me as bones cracked, and I finally lost my grip. I fell straight down into the bottomless, roaring darkness. Full of rage and unfinished business, I closed my eyes. If I get another life, I swear I’ll make these two poisonous women pay in blood. I’ll make that spineless, biased coward of a father pay too. … I don’t know how much time passed. When my consciousness gathered again, there was no freezing water. Instead, I was wrapped in something warm and soft. In my ears, a muffled but clear argument was happening. “Elias! You owe me an explanation today! What do you think I am? What do you think Serena is?” A sharp, shrill woman’s voice, dripping with entitled fury. I jolted. That voice… it was Margaret! I wasn’t dead? “Margaret, calm down! It’s the Vance Group’s anniversary celebration today, the whole floor is packed with media and business elites. If you make a scene here, how is that going to look?” A man’s voice, deliberately lowered, edged with panic. Elias! My selfish, hypocritical biological father! I tried to open my eyes, but I couldn’t. I waved my arm and touched nothing but soft, fleshy walls. I realized with a shock—I’d been reborn! And not just reborn—I was inside a woman’s womb! I’d become an unborn fetus! “You want me to calm down? You let that homewrecker show up at my gala flaunting her pregnant belly, and you want me to calm down?!” Margaret’s voice spiked, her heels striking the floor hard. “Elias, I didn’t mean to… my stomach just hurt so much, I wanted to find you…” A soft, trembling, tearful voice spoke up. The voice was unfamiliar, but I instantly understood who she was. This was the mistress Elias kept hidden away—my mother in this lifetime! “Shut up! Evelyn, didn’t I tell you to stay at the suburban house? Who told you to come downtown?!” Elias didn’t comfort her at all—instead he snarled viciously, “Do you have any idea how much my stock will drop if a reporter gets a photo of you?!” Smack! A sharp slap rang out. “Bitch! You think you can seduce my husband and get away with it? I’ll kill that bastard kid in your belly right now!” Margaret cursed viciously. I felt the space wrapped around me shake violently, and my mother’s body convulsed in agony. Margaret had hit my mom! And that coward Elias didn’t even dare make a peep! “Margaret, a couple of hits to vent is fine, just don’t kill her, there are reporters downstairs…” Elias’s voice was full of placating indifference. For the sake of his reputation, for the sake of his stock price, he was willing to stand there and watch his own woman and unborn child get beaten half to death! In my last life, it was the same—for Serena’s sake, he ignored all the wrongs done to me. And now, in this life, it was happening again—for his own benefit, he’d sacrifice anything. A wave of fury burned through my chest. I felt out my own body. Even though I wasn’t full term yet, I already had full strength. I gathered all my power into my legs and kicked, hard, against the soft wall of the womb.

“Ahhh—!” A scream of pure agony tore through the quiet of the lounge. My mother’s body spasmed violently, and I felt the fluid around me burst and gush out like a breaking dam. “Evelyn! What’s wrong with you?!” Elias finally panicked, his voice unable to hide his fear. “Blood… she’s bleeding!” Margaret shrieked too, terrified. I didn’t stop. I kept rolling and kicking like crazy inside the womb. I needed out! “It hurts… help me… save my baby…” Evelyn moaned weakly, despair in her voice. “Quick! Call an ambulance! Take the back door, don’t let the reporters see!” Elias growled, lowering his voice. Take the back door? Dream on. I calculated the direction and threw everything I had into one final push downward. Bang! The lounge door was suddenly thrown open from outside. “Mr. Vance, there you are, the speech downstairs is about to—oh my god!” The assistant who’d come to find him let out a shriek, her voice cracking. Right behind her, a storm of camera flashes lit up the room. Turns out the sharp-nosed reporters had already sensed something was off and quietly followed. “Mr. Vance! Who is this pregnant woman covered in blood?” “Mrs. Vance, did you assault this woman?” “Vance Group CEO’s affair, mistress goes into labor at the gala—will this affect tomorrow’s stock price?!” The reporters swarmed in like sharks that smelled blood, shoving cameras and microphones right into Elias and Margaret’s faces. Elias’s face went deathly pale. He tried to block the lenses with his hands, but it was useless. “Stop filming! Security! Where the hell is security?!” he roared hysterically. Margaret was even more terrified, her face draining of color. Her custom designer gown was splattered with Evelyn’s blood—she was a complete mess, nothing left of her usual high-society arrogance. “It wasn’t me… I didn’t touch her! She fell on her own!” Margaret babbled, incoherent. But I wasn’t going to give her a chance to make excuses. With Evelyn’s last heart-wrenching scream of pain, I finally broke free and arrived in this world. No doctor, no delivery bed—I was born right there on the floor, surrounded by blood and a hundred camera flashes, at the Vance Group’s anniversary gala. “Waaah—!” I didn’t cry weakly like a normal newborn. I opened my mouth and let out a loud, piercing wail. The cry cut through the lounge and echoed across the entire ballroom. Dead silence. Everyone stared in shock at the blood-covered infant on the floor, and the frail woman lying unconscious beside her. Elias’s perfect image, the Vance Group’s century of prestige—I’d just kicked it all to pieces. The ambulance arrived, sirens blaring. My cord was cut, I was hastily wrapped in someone’s jacket, and Evelyn and I were both carried out on stretchers.

I lay quietly in the hospital incubator. Even though being premature had left my body weak, my mind was unusually clear. Outside, everything had gone to chaos. Vance Group’s stock hit the limit-down in the first ten minutes of trading, wiping out tens of billions in market value. The news of Elias’s affair and his wife beating a pregnant woman into early labor was plastered across every headline. For the past few days, Elias had been so overwhelmed he hadn’t had time to even visit us. Evelyn, on the other hand, had spent a full day and night in the ICU before finally being stabilized and moved to a private room. Late at night. The hallway outside the incubator room was silent except for the steady beeping of machines. Suddenly, the door opened a crack. A figure dressed in a nurse’s uniform, wearing a mask, slipped inside. She’d covered herself well, but I’d recognize those scheming, venomous eyes anywhere, even as ash. Serena! She was only sixteen this time around, but she was already a snake with deep, twisted intentions. In my last life, she’d used that same pitiful, innocent face to win everyone’s trust before pushing me off a cliff. She walked up to the incubator and stared down at me, her eyes full of malice. “You little bastard, lucky you, surviving all that,” she muttered, voice icy. “You and your shameless mother ruined my family’s gala. My dad doesn’t even dare come home now, and my mom’s getting torn apart online.” “Trash like you doesn’t deserve to live in this world!” As she cursed viciously, she pulled out a tiny syringe from her pocket. Inside it was a clear liquid. I sneered inwardly. This trick again. In my past life, she loved using all sorts of undetectable drugs to frame me. This time, she clearly wanted to tamper with my IV line, to make it look like I’d died naturally from being premature and weak. I lay perfectly still, like a completely helpless infant. Seeing how defenseless I looked, the satisfaction in Serena’s eyes deepened. She reached out, aiming the needle at the IV port connected to my body. Just as the tip was about to pierce the rubber membrane— I snapped my eyes open and stared directly at her! Startled by my sudden movement, Serena’s hand froze. I threw every ounce of strength I had into swinging my tiny hand, ripping the mini heart monitor right off my chest! A piercing alarm exploded through the room. Serena’s face went white. In her panic, she tried to pull the needle back, but her hand shook so badly that she stabbed it straight into her own finger. “Ah!” She cried out in pain, dropping the syringe on the floor. “What’s going on?!” The on-duty nurses and doctors heard the alarm and rushed in like a stampede. Serena had no chance to escape—she was caught red-handed. “Who are you? What department are you from? What are you doing in here?!” The head nurse grabbed her arm, demanding answers. The lights flicked on bright. Serena’s mask was yanked off, revealing her panicked face. Right then, the door opened again. Evelyn walked in, still in her hospital gown, pale-faced, supported by two bodyguards. Her eyes swept over the syringe on the floor, then landed on Serena’s terrified face. Her expression went cold instantly. All the fragility and helplessness from the gala had completely vanished.

“Call the police.” Evelyn’s voice was ice cold. Serena completely fell apart. She dropped to her knees, sobbing dramatically. “No! Evelyn, I was wrong! I just came to see the baby, I didn’t mean any harm…” “No harm?” Evelyn walked up to her, looking down with disdain. She bent down, picked up the syringe off the floor, and handed it to the nearby doctor. “Test what’s in this.” The doctor took one look and his face changed. “This is a high concentration of potassium chloride! If this had been injected directly into an infant, it would have caused cardiac arrest—and it would’ve been nearly impossible to detect.” The room gasped collectively. A sixteen-year-old girl, capable of something this vicious? Evelyn looked at Serena like she was looking at a corpse. “Serena, you’re just as useless as your mother.” The police arrived quickly and dragged Serena away as she desperately tried to talk her way out of it. The room fell silent again. Evelyn walked over to the incubator and looked at me inside it. She reached out and traced my outline through the glass. Her eyes were no longer cold—they held a depth and complexity I couldn’t quite read. “Baby, don’t be scared,” she whispered. “Mommy will protect you. Anyone who’s ever hurt us—Mommy’s not letting a single one of them go.” I looked at her, my mind churning with disbelief. This mother of mine… she wasn’t as simple as she seemed on the surface. News that Serena had been detained by police on suspicion of attempted murder became the final straw that broke Elias. Vance Group’s stock had been hitting limit-down for three straight days, and the board members—a pack of old wolves—were closing in, demanding answers. Elias rushed to the hospital that night like a beaten dog. He burst into Evelyn’s room, eyes bloodshot, face covered in stubble, with none of his usual arrogance left. “Evelyn! Drop the charges! Drop them right now!” He grabbed her wrist, voice hoarse and desperate. “Serena’s only sixteen! She can’t have a criminal record! How is she supposed to live with that?!” I lay in the bassinet beside them, listening to this all-too-familiar script, and sneered inside. In my past life, when Serena deliberately pushed me down the stairs and broke my leg, Elias said the exact same thing. “Maya, Serena didn’t mean it, she’s still young, you’re the older one, you should be more forgiving, don’t ruin her future.” He always, always protected that girl who didn’t even share his blood. Evelyn didn’t pull away. She just looked at him coldly. “Elias, your daughter tried to kill mine, and you want me to drop the charges?” Her voice was eerily calm. “She’s just a kid! What does she even understand?!” Elias cut her off impatiently. “It was probably just a moment of stupidity! Besides, the baby’s fine, isn’t she?!” “Fine?” Evelyn yanked her hand away and slapped him across the face, hard. Smack! Elias stood there stunned, hand on his cheek, staring at this woman who’d always been so submissive. “If the nurse hadn’t found her in time, my daughter would be a corpse right now!” Evelyn pointed at the door. “Get out! If you say one more word defending that murderer, I’ll hand the evidence of Vance Group’s tax fraud straight to the economic crimes unit!” Elias’s whole body shook, panic flashing across his eyes. “You… how do you know about…” “If you don’t want people to find out, don’t do it in the first place,” Evelyn said coldly. “Elias, you think after three years with you, I’m really just some clueless trophy wife?” Elias completely deflated, like a balloon losing air. He knew this woman had him by the throat. “Fine… I won’t get involved, I won’t say anything…” He turned away, defeated, but stopped at the door and added through gritted teeth, “But Margaret’s not going to let this go. Watch yourself.” Elias left. Evelyn turned to look at me, and the ice in her expression melted into a gentle smile. “Baby, see that? That’s what a man really looks like. You can’t rely on anyone but yourself.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “431742”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster

At a yacht party, our social circle played a blindfolded game — find your husband by touch alone. Blindfolded, I reached out and caught Oliver’s hand immediately. All it took was the faint scent of cedarwood and oud on his cuff. When I pulled off the blindfold, the crowd gasped with envy. “Oliver literally missed a heartbeat for you.” He kissed my forehead with such tenderness. So devoted. So perfect. But I caught it — in the glass reflection on the tabletop, clear as anything — his other hand, hidden beneath the tablecloth, gripping the thigh of a single mother nearby. His thumb moved in slow, deliberate circles against her inner leg. And she sat there, red lip caught between her teeth, eyes glistening as she stared back at him. I didn’t make a scene. I just laughed coldly and let go of his hand. Later, after Oliver went bankrupt and ended up working as a waiter at a private club, he pushed open the door to a VIP suite — and found me there, pinned beneath the hands of the most powerful man in the room, his palm sliding up the hem of my dress. Oliver dropped to his knees, eyes red, begging me to come back. But Alistair just bit my earlobe, his voice low and rough: “Baby,make more noise, let your ex-husband hear you.”

“Ros, what are you staring at? Oliver’s been giving you heart eyes for the last five minutes — we’re in public, girl, rein it in.” My best friend Daisy elbowed me with a grin. I forced a smile and let my gaze drift across the room, landing on Candy Whitmore standing alone in the corner. She was wearing a nearly sheer silk slip dress. Over it, she’d thrown on a men’s suit jacket — the same one I’d watched Oliver put on before he left the house. I picked up my champagne glass and looked at Oliver with a calm, cutting smile. “Candy looks seasick. She’s gone completely pale.” I tilted my head. “You’re always so considerate, honey. Shouldn’t you check on her?” Oliver didn’t flinch. He slipped his arm around my waist, his hand drifting to the small of my back, fingers pressing in — an unmistakably intimate gesture. “Why would I bother with someone else? You’re the only one I care about.” He dipped his head toward my neck, voice low. “Let’s go back to the cabin, baby. OK?” Once upon a time, I would’ve blushed and nodded. Not anymore. Not when I knew exactly what that hand had been doing under the table twenty minutes ago. My stomach turned. “I’m tired. I need some air.” I stepped out of his grip and walked toward the deck. The sea breeze helped. Five years ago, Oliver’s startup had collapsed. He was buried in debt, and I was the one who sold our home to give him a second chance. I stood beside him while he clawed his way back from nothing. Everyone in our circle praised him. Such a devoted husband. Such a family man. Nobody knew what he was doing behind closed doors. I stayed on the deck for half an hour, then turned back inside and made my way to the cabins on the second level. I stopped outside Oliver’s private suite. The door wasn’t fully shut. And through the gap, I heard it — muffled, breathless sounds I recognized immediately. I stepped closer. Candy was pressed against the back of the door, the jacket already pooled on the floor. Oliver’s hand moved beneath her dress. She let out a sharp little gasp. “Ollie… stop… Ros is still out there…” “Who cares about her?” He bit down on her neck. “You dressed like this on purpose, didn’t you? She’s so boring — you’re nothing like her.” “You’re terrible…” Candy giggled softly. “Lily asked me today when Daddy’s going to take her to the theme park.” “Tomorrow. I promise. Now open your legs…” I stood in the hallway and listened to every disgusting second of it, my nails cutting into my palm. I didn’t storm in. I didn’t scream. I pulled out my phone, aimed it at the gap in the door, and recorded five full minutes of HD video. Then I turned around and walked back to the party.

The yacht docked at ten o’clock. Oliver walked me off the yacht with his arm around my shoulders. His cedarwood cologne was laced with something sweeter. I knew exactly what it was. She always wore the same sickeningly sugary scent. “What do you want to eat? I’ll grab that matcha mousse cake you love,” he said, buckling my seatbelt for me with practiced warmth. I looked at his face — so polished, so charming, so completely rotten underneath — and said, “Whatever.” He leaned in to kiss me. I turned away. A flicker of irritation crossed his eyes. Then the warmth came back, smooth as ever. “You okay? Did the sea air give you a chill? I’ll make you ginger tea when we get home.” Back at home, Oliver went to shower. I sat on the couch. His phone lit up on the coffee table. A text. Oliver — Lily’s burning up. She’s been crying for you. I don’t know what to do. I’m scared. From Candy. The shower stopped. Oliver came out with his hair still dripping, already pulling on his jacket, eyes on his phone. “Babe, something urgent came up at work. The server went down. I’ve got to go in immediately.” He didn’t even blink. “It’s eleven at night,” I said. “What kind of server emergency needs the CEO to show up in person?” His hands stilled on his buttons. His expression cooled. “Ros, can’t you be a little more understanding? The company is at a critical stage right now. Do you really think things will run smoothly if I’m not there to keep an eye on them?” “Understanding?” I let out a scoff. “Oh, I’m very understanding. Understanding enough not to ask a single question about the strange perfume on you.” His eyes went sharp. He crossed the room and grabbed my wrist — hard. “What’s that supposed to mean? You’re accusing me of something?” He flipped it around instantly, like he always did. “I bust my ass every day for this family, and I come home to this? What is wrong with you?” I wrenched my arm free. “You’d better actually be going to fix a server, Oliver.” He shot me a fierce look. Then he grabbed his keys and slammed the door behind him. The sound rang in my ears. I looked around the empty apartment. Sitting on the coffee table was the cake he’d picked up on the way home. I opened the box. Mango cream cake. I’m severely allergic to mango. Even a small amount can send me into anaphylaxis. Oliver had known that for seven years. Or maybe he’d just stopped caring. I picked up the box and dropped it in the trash without another thought.

The next morning, I skipped work and went straight to a private investigator’s office. “I need everything,” I said, sliding a photo and a retainer across the desk. “All financial activity tied to my husband, and every dollar he’s spent on this woman.” The PI was experienced. Fast. Three days later, a thick file hit my inbox. I sat in a coffee shop and read through it, my hands going cold. Oliver wasn’t broke at all. Instead, he bought Candy a standalone house in one of the city’s most exclusive neighborhoods in the south—and he paid for it in full. The deed was in Candy’s name. He’d also been running fake consulting invoices through his company’s accounts, transferring six figures into her account every month under the guise of “advisory fees.” And what’s even more ridiculous is that on Lily’s emergency contact card at preschool, Oliver’s name was scrawled under ‘Father’. The last few pages were photographs. Oliver with his arm around Candy, Lily perched on his shoulders, the three of them laughing at a theme park, sharing cotton candy in the afternoon sun. I checked the date on the photo. It was the same day I’d had a 103-degree fever. I’d driven myself to urgent care and sat alone with an IV in my arm. I closed the file and finished my coffee in one long sip. A bitter taste spread through my mouth, but it was nothing compared to the pain in my heart. That evening, Oliver came home early — which was unusual. He walked in with a gift bag, wearing his most charming smile. “I was in a bad mood the other night. I’m sorry.” He held out the bag. “I had someone bring this back from Paris — that limited-edition bag you mentioned a while ago, remember?” He wrapped his arms around me from behind, his hands wandering restlessly under my shirt with obvious intent. “Honey, it’s been a while since we…” I pulled away and stood up. “Our seven-year anniversary is next month,” I said, keeping my voice flat. “You promised me a real wedding ceremony. We never had one.” When we got married, Oliver had been broke. He’d slipped a soda can pull-tab onto my finger and called it a ring. His expression stiffened. “Rosalind, here we go again. We’ve been married for ages—why bother with all that cheesy stuff?” “A wedding is just theater. Do you know how much that costs? How many people I’d have to invite? I don’t have time for this.” I held his gaze. “You don’t have time for a wedding. But you had time to buy someone a house.” The color drained from his face. “What — what are you talking about?” “You know exactly what I’m talking about.” I kept my voice steady. “The wedding happens. I’ve already chosen the venue and the dress. All you have to do is show up.” That broke him. He snatched the designer bag off the table and threw it to the floor. “You ungrateful—” He caught himself, then kept going. “I work myself to the bone every single day. I provide for you. And this is what I get? You standing there acting like a martyr? You’ve completely lost it, Ros.” He didn’t change clothes. He walked straight back out. The door slammed. I looked at the bag on the floor and let out a cold laugh. Then I opened Instagram on my phone. Candy had just posted. A photo of a diamond necklace. The caption read: No matter how busy he is, he always finds a way to make me feel special. Being his favorite feels like this. 💎 I liked the post. Then I left a comment: It is pretty nice, isn’t it? Bought with my husband’s money—of course it’s good.

Saturday afternoon. I went to the bridal boutique for my dress fitting. Oliver had agreed to come. Because the night before, I’d sent him one message: If you don’t show up, I’m forwarding your falsified financial records to the IRS. He showed up. At two o’clock, I stood in the VIP fitting room, staring at my reflection in a floor-length mirror. The mermaid gown fit like it had been made for me. I looked beautiful. My eyes were ice cold. “Miss Rosalind, this silhouette is stunning on you. Oliver is going to be speechless.” the attendant gushed. I smoothed the skirt and said nothing. Two-thirty came and went. No Oliver. I called him. It rang for a long time before he picked up. “Ros, I’m sorry. I can’t make it.” His voice was rushed, breathless. “Lily fell off a slide at kindergarten. They think it might be a fracture. Candy’s at the hospital alone, she’s falling apart — I need to be here.” I could hear a woman crying faintly in the background. “Oliver,” I said quietly. “Today is my dress fitting.” “Can you please try to have some empathy right now?!” he exploded. “She’s only a four-year-old child. The dress isn’t going anywhere. Why are you making this into something? God, you’re unbelievable! He hung up. I looked at myself in the mirror, and suddenly realized it was time to end this farce. The door to the fitting room opened behind me. I assumed it was the attendant. Without turning, I said, “Can you undo the zipper? I’m done for today.” Two large, warm hands settled on my back. The touch was slow, deliberate — fingertips grazing the bare skin along my spine. That was not an attendant! I spun around. The man standing behind me was tall and broad-shouldered, dressed in a perfectly fitted black suit. His presence filled the room like a pressure change in the air — commanding, contained, and completely unhurried. Alistair Voss. The youngest and most ruthless venture capitalist in the city’s top financial circles — and the major investor Oliver had been desperately trying to lock down for months. “Mr. Voss—” I instinctively stepped back and caught the heel of my mermaid skirt. I stumbled. He caught me. One arm, clean and effortless, pulling me against his chest. He smelled like cold pine and faint smoke. It was a strangely grounding scent. “Oliver has good taste,” he said, looking down at me. “It’s a shame he’s blind.” His gaze moved over me — unhurried, unashamed. “Mr. Voss, please behave yourself.” I pushed against his chest. He didn’t move. “Rosalind Hale. Twenty-seven. Married five years. Currently building a case against her husband for infidelity and financial fraud.” His voice was low, almost casual. “The investigator you hired is decent, but he’s out of his depth. He’ll never get to the core of what Oliver’s actually hiding.” He reached into the inside pocket of his jacket and produced a small black USB drive, held between two fingers. “This has everything. Three years of off-book contracts, money laundering records, and every overseas asset he’s moved into Candy’s name.” “Turn it over to the right people, and Oliver doesn’t just lose everything — he goes to prison.” My breath caught. I looked at the drive. Then back at him. “What do you want?” He stepped forward, backing me gently against the vanity table. Both hands braced on the surface behind me, his arms framing me in. “I want the AI patent Oliver’s company holds.” He leaned in. His eyes were direct and predatory in a way that felt almost honest. “In exchange, I help you take back everything that’s yours.” A pause. “And you become mine.” “”I need a wife. Someone sharp, someone who knows how to play the game.” His gaze dropped to my mouth for just a moment. “You’d be perfect.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “431741”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster

For three years, I served Serena Sinclair like a beaten dog — swallowing her mockery, her contempt, and every cutting word she threw at me. I even stood there and watched her writhing in the hot spring pool with her so-called “best guy friend,” water splashing, her breathless moans filling the air. Everyone laughed at me. They called me a spineless cuckold, a freeloader living off his wife. Even Serena believed I could never leave her. But what she didn’t know was that the man groping her freely in that water — I’d paid him a million dollars to be there. And she had no idea that three years of this humiliating marriage was only the tip of the iceberg in my plan for revenge. When my identity as the heir to a billion-dollar empire comes to light, when the family she’s so proud of collapses overnight, when she’s on her knees in the mud begging me to come back — I’ll simply press my foot down on her face, look down at her, and smile. “Easy now. The gates of hell have only just opened for you.”

At the end of a winding mountain road sat a luxury private hot spring resort, wrapped in drifting mist. The night was ink-black. Cold rain tapped steadily against the floor-to-ceiling windows. I stood in a hidden corridor outside the presidential suite, gripping a small recording camera in my hand. On my wrist, tucked deliberately beneath the cuff of a cheap jacket, a Patek Philippe watch ticked its second hand toward midnight without a care in the world. Today was the third anniversary of my marriage to Serena. It was also the beginning of a countdown I’d been planning for five years — the fall of the Sinclair family. On the other side of the door, the open-air hot spring pool rippled and steamed. Through the translucent curtain, two tangled bodies moved in and out of shadow, the sounds of splashing water and heavy breathing crashing against the quiet of the night without a shred of restraint. “Slower… Noah, you’re hurting me…” Serena’s voice seeped through the gap in the door, honeyed and trembling, laced with that practiced mix of resistance and invitation. “Hurting you? Looks to me like you’re loving every second.” Noah laughed — low and shameless — his hands moving freely beneath the water. He grabbed her by her slender waist and shoved her hard against the smooth stone wall of the pool. Water flew. Serena threw her head back, the long curve of her neck tracing a tempting arc in the dim light. Her eyes were glazed, her lips parted, as Noah’s mouth dragged across her collarbone and chest, leaving a trail of red marks behind. The hands that once wore the wedding ring I’d chosen for her were now digging into Noah’s broad shoulders, her nails sinking deep into his skin. “You think if Dominic Harrington — that pathetic excuse for a husband — walked in right now and saw his precious wife like this, he’d piss himself?” Noah breathed the words into Serena’s ear, his voice dripping with cruelty. Serena let out a short, contemptuous laugh. “Why even bring up that useless man? You’re killing the mood. He’s probably home right now making me that stupid oatmeal he always cooks. That spineless pushover — even if he walked in and saw everything, he’d just drop to his knees and beg me not to leave him.” “You actually know how to treat a woman, Noah. Dominic’s like a dead fish in bed. He makes my skin crawl just touching me…” Serena’s moans grew louder as she gave herself over completely to the moment. I stood in the cold wind. Rain soaked my hair and ran down my face. Any other man — hearing his wife say those things while tangled up with someone else — would have lost his mind. Would have kicked that door open and torn them both apart. But I didn’t. I just stood there, adjusting the camera’s focus, capturing every detail of what they were doing, every filthy word they said, in perfect clarity. My hands were steady. Not even a tremor. My nails were digging into my palms hard enough to draw blood — but not from jealousy. It was hatred. A deep, bone-carved hatred, boiling through my veins. The truth was, I’d known about them for a long time. In fact, I’d be more accurate to say I’d arranged the whole thing. Noah — the man currently making himself at home in that hot spring pool — was someone I had personally placed at Serena’s side. Five years ago, I found Noah half-dead beside a drainage ditch behind an underground casino. He owed a loan shark operation a million dollars and was about to have both hands chopped off on a table. I walked over and looked at him the way you’d look at a stray dog. Then I dropped a bank card with two million dollars on it in front of him. “Do something for me. Get close to Serena Sinclair — she’s the heiress of Sinclair Group. Seduce her. The fewer limits, the better. Get her into bed if you can. Once it’s done, I’ll give you ten million more and set you up somewhere overseas.” Back then, Noah’s eyes blazed with the raw, hungry gleam of a wild animal. He dropped to his knees and slammed his forehead against the floor, over and over: “Boss, you’re my savior! Don’t worry — I know exactly how to handle women. I’ll take care of everything, clean and neat!” And he did. Watching Serena’s face through the lens — twisted with lust — I felt something deep inside my chest get carved out and replaced with ice-cold poison. I captured the clearest, most damning footage possible. This video was going to Richard Sinclair. The chairman of Sinclair Group — the man who, five years ago, drove drunk and killed my mother, then paid someone to take the fall while he walked free.

I packed up the camera, turned, and disappeared into the dark. I made my way back to the beat-up secondhand car I’d rented outside the resort. The interior reeked of cheap air freshener. I leaned back against the seat, scrolling through the footage I’d just exported to my phone, a cold smile pulling at the corner of my mouth. I had been playing a role for three full years to get to this moment. Everyone believed I was a broke nobody — a social climber clinging to people above him. Every morning at six sharp, I dragged myself out of bed and went to the market to buy the freshest ingredients, just to make Serena the soup she liked. I sliced the meat so thin it was almost translucent, skimmed off every drop of fat, all because she’d once mentioned she didn’t like greasy food. I memorized every one of her preferences and food aversions. No chives. No offal. No cold water during her period. At work dinners, I always trailed behind her like a servant — blocking drinks meant for her, carrying her bags. At Richard’s company, I worked the lowest rung: a procurement clerk. When the department manager hurled files at my face and screamed at me, I kept my head down and smiled through the humiliation. I spent two hours crammed in a packed subway every morning, wearing the same white shirt until the collar frayed, too stubborn — or too broke — to replace it. Every cent of my meager paycheck, I handed over without keeping a single dollar for myself. At lunch, I ate cold sandwiches. I played the part so convincingly that even Richard — that cunning old fox — let his guard down. He genuinely believed he had a spineless pushover he could mold however he pleased. But what they didn’t know — The Dominic who burned with a 103-degree fever, lying on the cold floor, calling Serena for help, only to be told “Noah’s dog is sick and I need to be with him — just drink more water” before she hung up. In the moment that call ended, his eyes went completely cold. The Dominic who watched Serena use his paycheck to buy Noah a Patek Philippe, then got a finger jabbed in his face while she sneered, “Are you even a man? So petty.” That Dominic was already quietly calculating how to skin them both alive. The Dominic who let Noah move in under the excuse of having “nowhere to stay” — strutting around in his slippers, drinking from his cups, even wandering through the living room at midnight wearing Serena’s silk robe — had already been weaving an inescapable trap in the shadows. Over these three years, I had fooled Serena. I had fooled Richard. There were even moments I almost fooled myself. I scrolled through my photo gallery — thousands of pictures I’d taken of Serena over the past three years. Her smile in the sunlight, bright and open. The look of surprise in her eyes when she unwrapped the bag I’d saved six months of paychecks to buy. The curve of her face as she slept against my shoulder. I had once been naive enough to think — if she could show me even a shred of genuine feeling, if she could hold on to even the bare minimum of loyalty, maybe I would let go of that blood feud. Maybe I would take her somewhere far away and live a quiet, ordinary life. But she never did. Again and again, she ground my dignity into the dirt. Again and again, her cruelty and recklessness reminded me exactly why I could never forget. I pressed delete. Confirm delete all photos? Confirm. I watched the gallery wipe itself clean in an instant. A long, slow breath left my lungs. The game where the hunter pretended to be the prey — it was time to end it. I opened my phone and sent Edward the message I had been holding for five years. “Go.”

The next afternoon, Serena finally drifted home from the hot spring resort, languid and unhurried. She had an expensive Hermès scarf tied around her neck — but it wasn’t quite long enough to hide the red marks along the edges. She tossed her platinum bag — worth a small fortune — onto the couch without a second thought, kicked off her heels, and stared at me with open irritation. “Dominic, are you dead? Can’t you see I just walked in? You couldn’t even pour me a glass of water?” I sat in the shadow of the room. I didn’t get up. I didn’t go to her like I always had before. I raised my head and looked at her. Quietly. Still. “Why are you looking at me like that?” Serena was unsettled by my stare. She stormed over, furious and embarrassed, pointing her finger right in my face. “I was playing poker with my bestie at the resort all night. I’m exhausted. Go run my bath. Now.” “Poker?” I rose slowly to my feet, my voice completely flat. “In the hot spring pool with Noah?” Serena’s expression froze. Her pupils contracted for just a split second before she forced herself to look composed and cranked up the volume. “What the hell are you talking about? Oh, so you’ve got nerve now? You followed me? Dominic, are you out of your mind?!” Just then, the front door swung open and Noah strolled in like he owned the place. He didn’t even knock. He noticed we seemed to be arguing and let out a contemptuous snort. He walked over and threw his arm around Serena’s shoulder, staring me down with a smirk. “What’s going on, Serena? This loser giving you trouble again?” Serena melted into his side like she’d found her anchor. She pouted up at him. “He actually had the nerve to suspect us. And the way he was looking at me—” Noah’s eyes went cold. He stepped forward and reached out to shove my shoulder. “Dominic, who the hell do you think you are? Serena can do whatever she wants with whoever she wants. You’re just some guy living off her money. What gives you the right to say a damn word? Keep it up and I will end you.” He seemed to have forgotten how he’d knelt at my feet five years ago, begging. He also seemed to have forgotten who had actually paid for everything. I shifted slightly to the side, letting his hand miss me, and looked at the two of them like I was staring at a pair of corpses. “Is that so?” I let out a cold laugh and pulled a thick envelope from the coffee table drawer. I slammed it down on the glass tabletop with a sharp crack. The sound echoed through the empty living room. Serena flinched. “What is wrong with you?!” she shrieked. I ignored her. I unwound the clasp, letting everything spill out. The first document was a divorce agreement, already signed with my name. The second was a fifty-page evidence file. It contained every hotel check-in record from the past three years, explicit screenshots of their messages, bank statements showing Serena quietly siphoning off my paychecks, and — high-resolution photos from the hot spring pool last night. The third was the agreement Noah had signed back then — the “seduction contract.” The transaction amount was written out in plain black and white, right next to his bright red thumbprint. “Take a look.” I stood there with both hands in my pockets, my tone stripped of any emotion. “When you’re done, sign the papers and get out of my house.” What I didn’t say was that this was only the second envelope. Another one had been delivered to her father’s office five minutes ago.

Serena’s eyes landed on the scattered photos. The color drained from her face instantly. Her hands trembling, she picked up the evidence file. The further she flipped through it, the harder her body shook. When she got to the contract with the red thumbprint, it was like she’d been struck by lightning. Her legs gave out and she crumpled to the floor. “What… what is this…” She looked up in disbelief, eyes locked on Noah, her voice cracking into something raw and desperate. “Noah! Tell me this isn’t real! You were with me because you loved me — right?! That’s the only reason — right?!” Noah panicked. He snatched the contract out of her hands, and every trace of arrogance vanished from his face, replaced by sheer terror. He spun toward me, jaw clenched, and snarled. “Dominic! You said if I got her into bed, you’d give me ten million and set me up abroad! You gave me your word!” “My word?” I walked toward him slowly. My gaze cut into him like a blade, and the pressure I was putting off hit him like a wall. “I’m supposed to keep my word to a dog who’ll hump anything for money?” Noah faltered under the weight of it. He stumbled back two steps — then rage overtook fear. He raised his fist and swung it at me. “I’ll kill you!” I didn’t move. I just said, quietly, “Try it. See what happens. Take a look outside and tell me whether those dozen bodyguards out there will leave anything of you worth burying.” Noah’s fist stopped dead in midair. He turned to look out the window. Somehow, without any of us noticing, the villa’s courtyard had filled with bodyguards in black suits, stone-faced and still, surrounding the entire property with no way in or out. That was when Serena finally broke. She launched herself at Noah like she’d lost her mind, clawing and scratching at him. “You bastard! You lied to me! You were only ever after the money! I’ll kill you! I’ll kill you!” Noah shoved her away with an impatient push, and Serena slammed hard into the sofa, her forehead splitting open and bleeding. I stood over them, watching this ugly little spectacle play out. No satisfaction. Just disgust. “Enough.” My voice came out cold and sharp. The room went silent. The only sound was Serena’s muffled sobbing. “Serena, I’m giving you two options.” I walked over and crouched down in front of her, meeting her terrified eyes head-on. “Option one — sign the divorce papers and walk away with nothing. Take your lover and get out.” “Option two — I hand everything over to the courts and the press. You won’t just lose your reputation. You’ll go to prison for hiding marital assets.” Serena clutched my pant leg with both hands, tears mixing with the blood running down her forehead. She looked completely broken. “Dominic, I was wrong… I’m so sorry… Please forgive me. He tricked me, I swear. I know you love me. You love me so much — how could you do this to me?” “Love?” I grabbed her jaw and forced her head up, making her look at me. Five years of hatred and rage burned in my eyes. “You think I spent three years waiting on you hand and foot because I loved you?” I leaned close to her ear and said each word slowly, through gritted teeth: “Every single day I looked at your face, I felt sick. I wanted to tear you apart — you and your murderer father — piece by piece.” Serena’s eyes went wide, like she was staring at a stranger. A monster. “What… what are you talking about?” “Five years ago, on the ring road, a black Maybach hit a woman who was carrying a birthday cake. She died. Your father Richard didn’t stop. He sped away. Then he paid someone to take the fall for him.” My voice was ice-cold, like it was coming from somewhere far underground. “That woman was my mother.” “And I am the sole heir to the Harrington Group, Dominic Harrington.” Serena froze completely. She stopped breathing. She stared at me like something inside her had gone hollow. Her hands slowly released their grip on my pant leg.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “431740”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster

The third year after my sister went missing, I finally found the man who had kidnapped  her. With the help of the police, we cornered him at an abandoned dock. After a standoff that lasted through the night, he ran out of strength and was successfully captured. The officer told me it was all over — that my sister would be rescued soon. But just as the suspect was being walked past me, he leaned close and said, in a voice only the two of us could hear: “She truly loved you. Until her dying breath, She begged me not to reveal that you were the one who planned all of this .” I had been searching for my sister Aurora Blackwood for three years. In those three years, I went from being an ordinary freelance illustrator to the most unusual “outside consultant” in the police department’s files. Everyone called me a hero — for the efforts I’d gone to in order to find my sister, and for the kind of sharp instincts I’d shown along the way, instincts that even the detectives found remarkable. The lead investigator was the deputy captain of the city’s criminal investigation unit. His name was Ethan. When he first met me, his eyes held that practiced look of sympathy and reassurance. But now, he called me directly whenever he hit a wall on the case. “Stella, we’ve run into another dead end.” That shift had come down to two small things. The first happened six months ago. The police had obtained an extremely blurry surveillance photo. It only caught the corner of the suspect’s vehicle — you couldn’t even make out the license plate. The case stalled for over two weeks. I zoomed in on the photo until the pixels completely fell apart, and I stared at it for an entire day. Finally, in a flash of reflection off the car window, I spotted a logo on a takeout box. It was a fast-food chain that only delivered to three districts on the west side of the city. I told Ethan. “We already searched the west side. Nothing turned up.” His voice was exhausted. “No — you only checked the main roads and residential areas,” I said. “Look into every abandoned factory and warehouse in that zone, especially any that a car could drive straight into.” Ethan was quiet for a few seconds. Then he said, “Understood.” Three days later, they found more discarded evidence near an abandoned printing plant — evidence linked to the suspect. The search area narrowed significantly. From that day on, Ethan started actually listening to me. The second thing happened about a month ago. I was going through my sister’s spending records — something I did every month, hoping to catch something unusual. For the first two-plus years, I found nothing. But this time, I spotted an easily overlooked record. A week before Aurora disappeared, she had purchased a fairly expensive set of printmaking inks. Everyone had glossed over it. Aurora was a painter — buying art supplies was completely normal. But I knew something no one else did: my sister hadn’t touched printmaking for five years. She thought it was too much work, and it always got her hands dirty. I immediately thought of a place. An arts village on the outskirts of the city. Back in college, Aurora had rented a small studio there specifically for printmaking classes. I sent the address to Ethan. “What’s significant about this place?” “My sister used to paint there in college. She never went back after she graduated. But those inks — they’re a niche brand that’s only sold at that arts village.” “You’re saying she went there before she disappeared?” “Go check it out,” I said. Ethan moved fast. They searched the long-abandoned studio and found traces left behind on the day my sister vanished. And one more thing — another person’s fingerprints. Those fingerprints belonged to a man named Vince. He had a prior record for theft and assault. At last, they had their suspect. When Ethan called to tell me, there was a hint of relief in his voice. “Stella,” he said, “your instincts and your intelligence have been the key to cracking this case. You’re sharper than a lot of people who went through the police academy.” I was standing at the window when he said that. The sky outside was gray — the same gray that had settled over my life for the past three years. “I just want to find my sister,” I said. “Soon,” Ethan said. “We’ve got a lock on Vince’s movements. He’s not going anywhere.” Last night, Ethan called again. “Stella, we’ve got him cornered — at an abandoned dock. It looks like he may have a hostage. It’s dangerous. Do not come down here.” I didn’t listen. I grabbed my jacket and ran out the door. I had to see it with my own eyes. I had to watch him get caught. That bastard I’d been hunting for three years. That monster who had taken my sister and destroyed my life. I had to watch them put the handcuffs on him. It was the only thing keeping me going.

The dock had been sealed off with police tape. Flashing blue and red lights turned the desolate area into something that looked like broad daylight. The air smelled of damp salt and sea wind, thick with tension. A young officer stopped me at the perimeter. “Ma’am, it’s not safe here. Please step back.” “I’m Stella,” I said. The young officer froze for a moment. He’d clearly heard my name before. Just then, Ethan came striding out from inside. His expression was grave, his forehead slick with sweat. “Why did you come anyway?” “I’m staying.” My voice was calm, but firm. Ethan looked at me for a moment, then stopped trying to talk me out of it. He just said, “Stay somewhere safe. Take care of yourself.” Then he turned and walked back behind the cordon. I stood on the other side of the police tape, staring at the crumbling two-story building in the distance. Vince was in there. And maybe my sister, too. My heart was pounding. I couldn’t tell if it was fear or something else. We stayed like that the entire night. I leaned against the car, eyes fixed on the building without blinking. The night was long and cold. One of the officers brought me a blanket and some hot water. I didn’t turn them down. As dawn began to creep in, the voice coming through the megaphone finally went silent. Everything went still. I watched a group of officers in tactical gear move toward the building in formation, slow and deliberate. My heart leapt into my throat. The seconds passed by. Just when I felt like I couldn’t breathe anymore, the door to the building swung open. A man walked out with both hands raised. It was Vince. I’d saw his photo so many times that I recognized him instantly. He looked completely ordinary — average height, nothing remarkable about his face. And yet this was the man who had taken my sister. The officers rushed him, forced him to the ground, and snapped the cuffs on his wrists. It was over. I felt every ounce of strength drain out of me. My knees buckled, and I nearly fell. Ethan walked toward me with long, quick strides. There was a look of pure relief on his face. “Stella, it’s over.” He caught me. “We got him.” I looked at him, and the tears came all at once. Three years of grief, of pain, of hopelessness — all of it released in that moment. “Where’s my sister…” I choked out. “Don’t worry. Our people are searching inside right now. Vince says she’s somewhere safe — no immediate danger.” Ethan tried to comfort me. “It’s all over. You can start new life now.” I nodded, crying too hard to speak. The officers walked Vince past me. He was wearing a filthy set of work clothes, his hair a mess, his face completely blank. I stared at him, burning every detail of his face into my memory. That’s him. This monster. Then, just as he passed me, he suddenly turned his head and looked right at me. The corner of his mouth curled into a deeply unsettling smile. In a voice barely above a breath — quiet enough that only I could hear — he said: “She really loved you. Right up until the end, she was begging me not to tell anyone that you were the one who planned all of this.” My crying stopped dead. It felt like the blood in my veins had turned to ice. I stood there in a daze as they loaded him into the squad car and watched it speed away. Every sound around me disappeared. Ethan’s voice, the officers talking, the sound of the waves — all of it gone. There was only one sentence left in my head. “You were the one who planned all of this.” What did that mean? What was he talking about? This couldn’t be real. “Stella? What’s wrong? Why do you look so pale?” Ethan’s worried voice pulled me back. I looked at him. My mouth opened, but no words came out. An overwhelming wave of fear and confusion closed around me like a net, pulling tight. My world — the moment we caught him — completely fell apart.

I was taken back to the station. But this time was different. This time, I wasn’t sitting on the couch in Ethan’s office. I was in an interrogation room, on a cold metal chair. The light overhead was harsh and bright. It made my head swim. In the span of just a few hours, my status had shifted — from hero and victim’s family member to suspect. Ethan was sitting across from me. His expression was complicated — confused, uncertain — but underneath all of that was the detached, professional look of someone doing his job. “Stella, Vince named you as the one behind all of this. What’s going on?” “I don’t know.” My voice was unsteady. “He’s lying.” “Why would he lie about you specifically? Why would he try to set you up?” Ethan pressed. “How should I know!” I was on the verge of breaking. “He’s the kidnapper. He’s the criminal. Why would anyone believe a word he says?” “But we need a reasonable explanation.” Ethan looked me in the eye. “Your reaction at the dock — after he said and how you reacted — it wasn’t normal.” I can’t explain that. I could only keep repeating the same words: “It wasn’t me. I don’t know anything.” The interrogation went on for a long time. I don’t know how I got through it. When they finally let me leave the interrogation room, I felt like I’d died and come back. Ethan didn’t take me home. He led me to an empty office instead. “You may need to stay here temporarily until the investigation is complete.” That meant I was being held. Just not officially. I looked at Ethan — the detective I had once trusted more than anyone. “You think I did it?” Ethan looked away. “I only believe in evidence,” he said. Whatever trust had existed between us shattered in that moment. I spent a full day and night in that tiny office. No one spoke to me. An officer stood guard outside the door. I felt like an animal locked in a cage. The following afternoon, Ethan came back. He looked worse than before. He didn’t say a word. He just set a clear evidence bag on the table in front of me. Inside the bag was a pen. A pen I recognized immediately — engraved with my initials. It was a gift from my father when I graduated from college. “This was found at Vince’s place.” Ethan’s voice was heavy. “Inside a locked drawer.” My mind went completely blank. “Why would my things be there?” I murmured. “That’s exactly what we’d like to know,” Ethan said. “Along with the pen, we also found some of your sketches. And… a photo. Of you and Vince together at a café.” He slid the photo across the table toward me. In it, I was sitting by the window. Vince was sitting across from me. I couldn’t make out my own expression, but the atmosphere between us didn’t look like two strangers meeting for the first time. “I don’t know him.” My voice started to shake. “I have never met him.” “The photo was taken three days before Aurora went missing.” Every word out of Ethan’s mouth landed like a hammer blow to my chest. “Physical evidence. A witness statement — Vince’s identification. And now a photograph.” “Stella, are you still going to deny it?” I had no answer. I stared at that photo and felt the room spin. I genuinely couldn’t remember. I had absolutely no memory of ever meeting Vince. It was as if someone had reached into my mind and carved out a piece of it. “It wasn’t me…” I could only repeat it, helplessly. Ethan gave me one deep look. Whatever warmth had remained in his eyes was gone. “We’ll be filing for a formal investigation.” He stood up and walked out of the office. The moment that door clicked shut, I knew with absolute certainty — my life had completely fallen apart. I was no longer the brave sister searching desperately for Aurora. I was a liar. A suspect. The prime suspect in my own sister’s kidnapping.

Because the evidence chain wasn’t complete, I was temporarily released. But that kind of freedom was more suffocating than being locked up. I was required to wear an electronic ankle monitor twenty-four hours a day and forbidden from leaving the city. Parked outside my building was an unremarkable black car. I knew someone inside was watching me day and night. My so-called “normal life” had become a cage with invisible bars. On my first day back home, my aunt Grace showed up at my door. She and Aurora were my only family. My parents had both died in an accident when I was in college. Grace had never liked me. She always thought I had ulterior motives — nothing like Aurora, who was bright and accomplished and beloved by everyone. The moment she walked in, she slapped me across the face. “You ungrateful wretch! After everything your sister did for you — how could you do this to her?!” My cheek burned. “It wasn’t me,” I said. “Still making excuses!” She jabbed her finger in my face. “The police are involved! It’s all over the news! They’re saying the kidnapper named you as the one who planned the whole thing! You’ve disgraced this entire family!” “None of that is true.” “Then how come your stuff found at his apartment, Why did you go meet him? You think I don’t know — you’ve been jealous of your sister your whole life! She’s prettier than you, smarter than you, everyone loves her! You just hate seeing her shine!” Grace’s words were like knives, driving into my chest one after another. Every old wound, every buried resentment — it all erupted at once. I stopped trying to explain. Because I knew it didn’t matter. In Grace’s mind, the verdict had already been decided. I pushed her out the door and locked it behind her. Even through the door, I could still hear her shrieking at me. I slid down against the door until I was sitting on the floor, arms wrapped around myself. I felt cold. On the other side of the city, Ethan’s interrogation of Vince had hit a dead end. Vince admitted to carrying out the kidnapping but insisted that Stella had planned the whole thing. Whenever Ethan pressed him for motives and details, he’d dodge the questions or give deliberately vague answers. “Miss Stella is a brilliant woman. Her plan was flawless.” “Why did I help her? Maybe I felt sorry for her.” “She paid me. A big amount of it that I couldn’t say no.” But when the police tried to trace the money, they came up empty. Something about Vince’s behavior didn’t sit right with Ethan. He didn’t act like a criminal who would rat out his accomplices just to get a lighter sentence. He acted more like a performer on a stage — someone who savoring the pleasure of manipulating everyone like puppets on a string. Ethan’s certainty began to crack. That evening, he called me. It was the first time he’d reached out since my release. “Stella, I don’t care what you’re thinking right now, or what you’re planning to do. I’m warning you — don’t make any moves.” His voice was dead serious. “Don’t try to investigate this on your own, and don’t go anywhere near anyone involved. You’re now under strict surveillance. One wrong step and you’ll be in far worse trouble.” His words sounded like a warning. But they also felt like a roundabout way of protecting me. Like he was trying to tell me not to walk into a trap someone had already set. But I couldn’t take it anymore. I wasn’t going to just sit there and wait for them to convict me of a crime. I had to get my memories back. I had to prove I was innocent. After I hung up, I slipped past the surveillance camera at my door and left through the fire escape. I had to go somewhere. Somewhere that might help me find the truth.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “431739”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster

Five years ago, my family went bankrupt. It was Julian Thorne who cleared our massive, crushing debts. I asked him how I could ever repay him. He looked at my face, a deep, lonely longing flickering in his eyes. “You don’t have to do anything,” he murmured. “Just stay by my side.” From that day on, I became a strange presence in his life. I wasn’t his maid, yet I managed every detail of his life. I memorized all his allergies and dietary restrictions, and I tied his silk ties every single morning. I wasn’t his girlfriend, yet we lived together, and we shared a bed. But whenever we had sex, he would blindfold me with a black silk ribbon. He also never allowed me to make a single sound. It wasn’t until the night Serena Croft returned to the country that I finally understood everything. Looking at her face, a face that was an eighty percent match to mine, the truth hit me like a slap. I was nothing but a cheap stand-in he kept on a leash. Gently, my hand trembled as I touched my flat stomach, where a tiny life was now growing. Since that was the case, it was time for me to disappear.

Valerie Vance POV I had been with Julian for five years. The most pathetic thing I ever did was stand outside his study door for an entire night, just waiting for him to utter three words: “You can enter.” Now, I stood outside the VIP lounge of the exclusive club once again, listening to the muffled conversation between Julian and his wealthy friends. “Julian, what’s the plan now? Serena is back. You can’t honestly keep both of them, can you?” Someone laughed, teasing him. “Valerie is gorgeous and incredibly sweet. If you aren’t going to make her your wife, break it off early and let her go.” The lounge fell into a heavy silence for a few seconds. Then, I heard Julian’s voice. It was cool, dripping with a lazy, post-drink nonchalance. Yet every single word pierced through the heavy oak door, crystal clear. “My family owed hers a debt from the past. Keeping her around is just my way of paying it back. She’s the one who insists on staying. I’ve never forced her. If I were going to fall in love with her, it would have happened years ago.” He paused, then added callously. “Besides, where would she go? She’s nothing without me, and she knows it.” Someone chuckled. “So, what about Serena? Are you really going to marry her?” Julian didn’t answer. But in our world, silence was the loudest confirmation. My hand froze on the doorknob. In the end, I didn’t push the door open. I turned around and walked away in silence. I couldn’t help but think back to five years ago. My father’s business had collapsed. Buried under a mountain of debt, he suffered a sudden, massive stroke. That was when Julian had approached me. “Come with me, and I’ll take care of your father’s medical bills.” Looking at my father hooked up to a dozen tubes in the ICU, I didn’t ask a single question. I packed a few clothes and left with him. Since then, I had lived in his shadow, an undefined shadow. I wasn’t a maid. Maids had salaries, days off, and clear boundaries. I wasn’t a girlfriend. He had never given me that title. I took care of everything. I knew exactly what would trigger his severe allergies, what he hated to eat, and how to handle the mundane tasks he found too tedious. The people in his elite circle called me Ms. Vance. Their tone was polite, but their eyes were always filled with mockery and pity. Everyone knew what my role was. I was the only one who played dumb, refusing to face the ugly reality. I even rationalized it to myself: he saved my family. Staying with him was just my way of paying off the debt. But gradually, my heart betray me. I remembered the time I had a high fever. Through my blurry vision, I felt someone carry me to bed. When I opened my eyes, Julian was sitting by my bedside. He had an entire medical team on payroll, yet he chose to watch over me himself. I remembered the night he was heavily drunk. When I went to pick him up, he grabbed my wrist in the back of the car, his voice raw as he whispered, “Don’t leave.” The next day, he remembered nothing, and I pretended nothing had happened. But I held onto those words for years. Eventually, our relationship shifted into the bedroom. We never talked about commitment. I didn’t dare to ask, and he never offered. I lived in this beautiful, pathetic delusion for five years. Sometimes, I foolishly thought that if I just held on a little longer, he would finally give me his name. Until the news of Serena Croft’s return broke. Everyone in high society knew Serena was the only girl Julian had ever truly loved. They grew up together. But then, she left for Europe without saying goodbye. Julian waited for her for three painful years before he stopped mentioning her name. I had pieced together these fragments of his past from the drunken whispers he let slip over the years. Whenever he drank too much, he would toss and turn in his sleep, murmuring one name over and over: Serena. When I got back to the apartment, I stood at the entrance for a long time. Before my eyes was a home covered in sticky notes. He is severely allergic to mangoes, peanuts, and buckwheat! He only drinks cold milk, but his stomach is weak. Never let him drink it on an empty stomach. Next to the medicine cabinet: Allergy pills are on the second shelf, left container. He only uses waterproof band-aids. Every single note was written in my neat handwriting. Some of the ink had faded with time; others were still fresh. Slowly, I reached out and peeled off the first note. When my hand reached the allergy list on the refrigerator, my fingers trembled. I had rewritten this particular list seven or eight times. On the bottom right corner of the latest version, there was a tiny, hand-drawn smiley face. I remembered that day. He had been in a rare good mood. He wrapped his arms around my waist from behind as I was writing, asking what I was doing. I showed him the note. He glanced at it, gave a faint “Hmm,” and let me go. Just that single, low grunt of approval had made me glow with happiness all day. I had doodled that little smiley face right after. Looking at it now, I realized how incredibly pathetic I was. I peeled the allergy list off. I didn’t throw it away. I folded it neatly and slipped it into my coat pocket. Then, I kept peeling. The living room, the kitchen, the bathroom, the bedroom, the balcony. Half an hour later, every single sticky note was gone. The apartment suddenly looked cold, bare, and painfully quiet. I stuffed the crumpled pile of notes into a trash bag, tied it tight, and set it by the door. Then, I walked over to the closet and looked at the suitcase standing in the corner. A thin layer of dust had settled on the zipper. I had packed it a week ago. At that time, I hadn’t even heard his conversation at the club yet. I had just felt a cold shift in the air. His sudden coldness, Serena’s abrupt return. All the warning signs pointed to a truth I didn’t want to face. Like I always did, I prepared for the worst. The only difference was, in the past, my worst-case scenarios never came true. But this time, I had heard the death sentence with my own ears. I sat down on the hardwood floor next to my suitcase, rested my back against the wall, buried my face in my knees, and wept. I cried silently, my shoulders shaking, without making a single sound. I had cried many times over the past five years, but it was always silent. Because Julian hated noise.

Valerie Vance POV The next afternoon, Julian returned to the apartment. The moment he stepped inside, his eyes swept over the walls. The colorful sticky notes that used to clutter the space were entirely gone, leaving only faint, clean outlines. He frowned slightly. “Where are the notes?” I kept my voice even. “They were getting old. I’m going to rewrite them.” I had already prepared a new batch, but instead of sticking them on the walls, I had organized them neatly in a folder on the dining table. Inside was a comprehensive guide: his allergies, dietary needs, medication locations, and daily schedules. Every single detail was meticulously written down. Julian flipped through two pages and tossed it back onto the table. “Serena is back. I’m planning to make things official with her.” He looked at me, his tone incredibly casual. “She’ll be coming over often from now on. Make sure you take good care of her. She’s been pampered since she was a child, so she doesn’t know how to manage a household.” I understood. He wasn’t breaking up with me. In his mind, there was never a “relationship” to break up from in the first place. I was nothing without him. I had no job, no savings, no social circle, and my father’s life still depended entirely on his financial support. I had no choice but to stay. I listened quietly and nodded. “Okay. I understand.” Julian waited for a few seconds. I knew what he was waiting for. He expected me to accept his arrangement meekly, just like I always did, and continue to be the obedient, invisible Ms. Vance who revolved entirely around him. And indeed, my quiet nod gave him exactly what he wanted. He looked relieved. He grabbed his car keys and left. Once the door clicked shut, I stood in the middle of the empty living room, staring at the folder he had discarded after barely glancing at it. Five pages. It had taken me all night to write. I walked over, straightened the crumpled edges of the paper, and placed it neatly back on the table. Then, I pulled out my phone and sent a message to the real estate agent: “How fast can we finalize the sale of my grandmother’s cottage?” The agent replied almost instantly: “Within two weeks.” … A few days later, Serena Croft indeed showed up. The moment she stepped through the door, she called out, “Julian!” her voice rising in a sweet, intimate lilt. In the kitchen, my hand holding the knife froze. I had been with Julian for five years, and I had never called him by his first name so intimately. Once, early on, I had tried calling him “Julian” in private. He had met my eyes with a chilling, warning glare. I never dared to do it again. Serena wandered around the apartment and eventually spotted me in the kitchen. She walked in with a sweet smile. “You must be Valerie. Julian mentioned you. He said you’re incredibly detail-oriented.” She opened the refrigerator, scanned the shelves, and said offhandedly, “You’ll have to put in some extra effort for our meals from now on. I’m quite picky. I’ll send you a list of my preferences later.” Her tone was so natural, as if I wasn’t just Julian’s kept woman, but her personal maid as well. Then, Serena stepped closer to me. She lowered her voice so only the two of us could hear. “Now that I’m back, you can just focus on managing the household for Julian and me. Don’t harbor any other… unrealistic ideas.” She smirked. “You know your own situation. Without Julian, you can’t even afford your father’s medical bills, right?” She patted the back of my hand with a mock-sweet smile. “So, let’s both do our jobs. It’ll save us both a lot of trouble.” I didn’t say a word. I simply sealed the last dish with plastic wrap and placed it in the fridge. At dinner, I set the dishes on the table and was about to retreat to my room when I saw Serena using Julian’s private crystal glass to pour him some water. My feet felt glued to the floor. Julian had severe OCD and germophobia. He never shared tableware or glasses with anyone. That was the very first rule I learned when I came to this house. On my first day, not knowing any better, I had used his personal glass to pour him water. He had looked at it with sheer disgust and poured the entire glass down the sink. For five years, I had never touched his personal crystal glass again. Not once. But now, Serena was not only using his glass, she even used her own fork to feed him a piece of foie gras. Julian accepted it. He took a sip of the water and ate the food, a soft smile actually gracing his lips. “Delicious,” he murmured. My mind flashed back to a winter when I had a terrible cold that wouldn’t go away. I had boiled a pot of hot milk and wanted to share it with him. The moment my fingers brushed against his mug, he had flinched and frowned in disgust. I had stood frozen in the kitchen for a long time, holding that hot pot of milk. In the end, I drank it all by myself. It turned out he didn’t have germophobia. He just had germophobia when it came to me. Serena was the only one for whom his rules simply did not exist. I walked back to my room and gently closed the door.

Valerie Vance POV Serena started coming to the apartment more and more frequently. Her silk shawl was left draped over the living room sofa. Her expensive perfumes cluttered the bathroom counter. A box of macarons, a jar of organic honey, and several bottles of yogurt appeared in the fridge. All of them were sweet. Julian detested sweets. Whenever I bought a small cupcake for myself, he wouldn’t even spare it a glance. Once, I had approached him while eating an ice cream cone. He had turned his head away in disgust, telling me it was too sweet and ordering me to stay away from him. But late that night, when I opened the fridge to grab some water, I noticed two macarons were missing from Serena’s box. He didn’t hate sweets. He just hated sweets bought by me. Serena knew exactly what my position was in this household, so she didn’t even view me as a threat. One afternoon, Serena brought a few of her wealthy socialite friends to the apartment. I was in the kitchen preparing afternoon tea. Serena was showing her friends around the place. When they reached the kitchen door, she stopped. “Valerie, could you brew a pot of Earl Grey and bring it to the living room?” She turned to her friends with a casual smile. “This is Valerie. She’s been with Julian for years. She can do absolutely everything and is incredibly hardworking. Julian and I honestly couldn’t live without her.” The women’s eyes instantly shifted as they looked at me. There was scrutiny, amusement, and blatant disdain in their gazes. One of them chuckled and whispered to Serena, “Is this the girl you told us about? The one who’s been clinging to Mr. Thorne for years?” Serena didn’t answer directly. She just offered a knowing, pitying smile. That smile was all the answer they needed. The women looked at me with mock sympathy. When I brought the tea tray into the living room, Serena was discussing her upcoming engagement party with her friends. “Julian said the engagement party will be next month. He’s already hand-picking the ring.” “Oh my gosh! Mr. Thorne is personally picking the ring? He adores you so much!” Serena giggled, casting a sideways glance at me. She didn’t say a word to me, but that look said everything. I set the tea tray down and quietly retreated to the kitchen. Leaning against the marble countertop, I closed my eyes and took deep, shuddering breaths. That night, after Serena and her friends left, Julian came home. I was tidying up the living room when he walked past me. Suddenly, he stopped. “Have you lost weight recently?” I froze, looking up at him. It had been a very long time since he had last noticed anything about me. Before I could answer, Julian walked over to the sofa, sat down, and pulled out his phone to reply to some emails. “Don’t overwork yourself. Serena’s friends might visit more often. If you can’t handle the housework alone, tell the maid to come more frequently.” His words didn’t stem from concern for me. He was just worried that if I collapsed, there would be no one to run the house. I nodded. “I will.” He glanced up at me again. “By the way, there’s a charity gala in a few days. It’s Serena’s first time attending this kind of high-society event. She’s not familiar with the protocols. I want you to come along and assist her.” He wanted me to act as Serena’s personal assistant. In front of Serena, in front of his entire social circle, in the role of a glorified servant. “Okay,” I said quietly. That night, back in my room, I locked the door and pulled out my phone. I texted the agent: “How is the paperwork for the cottage coming along?” The agent replied: “About ten more days at most.” I typed back a single word: Expedite.

Valerie Vance POV On the night of the gala, I wore a simple, elegant evening gown that I usually wore to these kinds of formal events. Serena glanced at me, raised an eyebrow slightly, but said nothing. When we arrived at the grand ballroom, Serena was clinging tightly to Julian’s arm. I followed a step behind them, quietly whispering into her ear about the guests at each table. Their names, their social standing, and their personal preferences. All this information was mapped out in my brain. After five years, I knew the temperaments of everyone in Julian’s circle like the back of my hand. Armed with my notes, Serena floated toward the guests with a radiant smile. The crowd raised their glasses in congratulations. Not a single person looked at me. Then, Serena led me over to a table of elite socialites. “Let me introduce you all. This is Valerie. She’s been by Julian’s side for years, taking excellent care of him.” She picked up a glass of champagne and forced it into my hand with a tight smile. “Valerie, why don’t you propose a toast to everyone? They are my friends now, so you’ll need to help me maintain these relationships in the future.” The women chimed in, laughing. “Yes, drink up!” I took the glass and downed it in one go. The alcohol burned my throat, making my eyes water, but I forced myself not to cough. One of the socialites scrutinized me from head to toe, then whispered to Serena, “Serena, you are way too sweet. If I were you, I would never keep such a pretty girl running around my fiancé.” Serena offered a sweet, calculated smile. “Valerie is practically family to Julian. Right, Valerie?” She stared straight at me, her bright smile demanding my cooperation. Clutching the empty glass, I forced the corners of my mouth up. “Yes. We are like family.” The women laughed, satisfied, and Serena beamed. Only I knew how bitter that drink tasted. Toward the end of the gala, I went to the restroom. On my way back down the dim hallway, one of Julian’s drunken business associates blocked my path. The man grabbed my wrist, his breath reeking of expensive whiskey. “Ms. Vance, you’ve worked so hard all these years. Now that Julian has a new toy, what’s your next move? Why don’t you let me take care of you instead?” Before I could react, his hands began to slide down my waist. I pushed against his chest with all my might, but I couldn’t break his grip. Emboldened by the alcohol, he pinned me against the wall, his flushed face looming closer. “Stop struggling, Valerie. In your position, you should be grateful someone still wants you.” I turned my head away, panic rising in my chest. “Let me go!” I screamed. Footsteps echoed from the other end of the hallway. It was Julian. The moment I saw him, tears almost welled in my eyes. For five years, no matter how cold he was to me in private, he had never allowed anyone else to touch me in public. Julian walked up and grabbed the man’s collar, pulling him back with an effortless yank. “You’ve had too much to drink,” Julian said, his tone flat. He sounded as if he were merely handling an untidy inconvenience. Then, he cast a cold glance at me. “What are you doing wandering around the hallway dressed like this?” This was the same gown I had worn to countless events before, and he had never complained. Back then, when I stood by his side, he found it elegant. Now, when I was being assaulted by another man, he found it to be my fault. Julian escorted his drunken friend away, never once looking back. I was left standing alone in the empty, silent hallway. My wrists were already bruised. He didn’t ask if I was hurt. He didn’t ask what that man had done to me. He didn’t care how I collapsed onto the floor. I curled up in the corner of the hallway, clutching my arms, my entire body shaking violently. In the end, I had to swallow all the pain and humiliation by myself.

Valerie Vance POV It would take a few more days to finalize the sale of the cottage. I endured it. I endured everything. I was waiting at a café near Julian’s corporate office to sign the final batch of paperwork with the real estate agent when Serena suddenly showed up. She had brought two of the socialites from the gala with her. The moment I saw her, I knew there was going to be trouble. Serena walked over to my table, pulled a thick white envelope from her Chanel bag, and slammed it down in front of me. “Valerie, Julian asked me to give this to you. You’ve worked hard all these years. Think of this as your severance package.” She didn’t shout, but her voice was loud enough for the surrounding tables to hear. Instantly, whispers broke out around us. “Is that his mistress?” “She’s definitely pretty enough. No wonder she was being kept.” I knew this couldn’t be Julian’s doing. But with Serena framing it this way in public, anything I said would sound like a weak excuse. I pushed the envelope back. “I don’t need this. Take it back.” Serena blocked my hand, pressing her fingers firmly onto my shoulder. Her manicured nails dug into my skin. Her smile remained sweet, but her voice dropped to a venomous whisper. “Valerie Vance, who do you think you are? Your father would have died in a ditch years ago if Julian hadn’t paid his debts. Your entire pathetic family would be begging on the streets. What right do you have to act so high and mighty in front of me?” My entire body went rigid. I could tolerate her insults directed at me. I could tolerate her humiliation. But I would never tolerate anyone dragging my father into the dirt. My father had been paralyzed in a wheelchair for five years. My mother had aged a decade trying to care for him. The main reason I had endured being Julian’s shadow for five years was to keep my father in that state-of-the-art care facility. In a blind rage, I grabbed my cup of iced coffee and splashed it directly into Serena’s face. Serena shrieked, taking two steps back. The dark liquid dripped down her forehead, ruining her expensive makeup. “Valerie Vance! Are you out of your mind?!” The two socialites gasped and rushed to wipe her face with tissues. Serena was shaking with rage. Just as she was about to scream at me, she spotted Julian walking through the café entrance. In a split second, her expression transformed, and tears welled up in her eyes. “Julian! I came here out of goodwill to check on her, but she rejected it and threw coffee in my face…” Julian took one look at Serena’s ruined clothes, then turned his gaze to me. His face was a mask of pure ice. “Apologize to Serena. Now.” He didn’t ask what happened. He didn’t care about the context. My eyes burned with tears. “She insulted my family first.” “I asked if you are going to apologize,” Julian cut me off, his voice dripping with cold, menacing authority. I bit my lip, standing my ground. Julian let out a cold, mocking laugh. He reached down, picked up a glass of ice water from the table, and without a second of hesitation, poured it directly over my head. The freezing water drenched my hair, running down my neck and shivering down my spine. My clothes clung to my skin, and my wet hair plastered against my face. The entire café fell dead silent. Everyone was staring at me. Julian looked down at me like I was dirt beneath his expensive leather shoes. “Serena is my fiancée. Humiliating her is humiliating me.” He wrapped his arm around Serena’s waist and walked out. As Serena passed by, she threw me a smug, triumphant look. I stood frozen in the middle of the café, water dripping from my hair onto the floor. I remembered my first year with Julian. We had been caught in a sudden downpour without an umbrella. He had taken off his custom coat, draped it over my head, and walked a mile in the freezing rain just to keep me dry. On that day, I had truly believed he was the kindest man in the world. Yet today, he was the one who poured ice water over my head. He didn’t even bother to ask why.

Valerie Vance POV I went back to the apartment in my wet clothes. I took a hot shower, changed, and sat on the edge of the bed in a daze for hours. My mind was filled with the memory of Julian’s lifeless, icy eyes. I should have given up on him long ago. How could I have ever believed that a man like him could possess even a shred of genuine affection for me? From beginning to end, I was just a fool living in a dream. Suddenly, a violent wave of nausea hit me. I rushed to the bathroom and collapsed over the toilet, throwing up until there was nothing left but bitter bile. I sat on the cold tile floor, completely drained of strength. Lately, I hadn’t been able to keep any food down, and my period was weeks late. I had assumed it was just stress. But a sudden, terrifying thought crossed my mind. I dragged myself up, put on some dry clothes, and walked to the nearest pharmacy to buy a pregnancy test. In the pharmacy’s public restroom, I watched as two bright red lines slowly but clearly appeared on the stick. My knees buckled, and I slid down the wall onto the floor. I was pregnant. Just when I was completely prepared to leave him forever, a new life, half-belonging to Julian, had taken root inside me. I placed a trembling hand over my flat stomach, tears streaming down my face. This baby couldn’t have come at a worse time. Julian would never want it. And if Serena found out, I wouldn’t even be able to leave this city in one piece. I had to leave before Julian found out. I had to leave immediately. I took a cab back to the apartment. But the moment I saw Julian’s black Maybach parked at the curb, my heart plummeted into a freezing abyss. I pushed the door open. The apartment was pitch black. Julian was sitting on the sofa, a lit cigarette smoldering between his fingers. On the coffee table lay a crumpled medical bill. It was the receipt from my OB-GYN visit last week when I went in for a checkup. Hearing the door, Julian slowly raised his head. Those eyes, usually so indifferent and cool, were now filled with a terrifying, murderous rage. He stood up, his voice dangerously low. “Valerie Vance, are you pregnant?” I instinctively took a step back, my blood running cold. “I…” Crash! Julian hurled the heavy crystal ashtray at my feet. Shards of glass exploded across the hardwood floor, cutting my bare ankles. He strode over in three giant steps, grabbed my jaw in a vice grip, and forced my face up. His grip was so tight I heard my bones protest. “I personally made sure you took your birth control pills every single time. How the hell did you get pregnant? Did you tamper with the condoms? Or did you spit the pills out?” He sneered, looking at me as if I were a disgusting stranger. “Valerie, I never realized you could be this calculating. You saw that I was getting engaged to Serena, so you decided to trap me with a bastard child?” His words stabbed straight into my chest, tearing my heart to shreds. “I didn’t…” Tears finally spilled over. Ignoring the pain in my jaw, I desperately grabbed his wrists, my voice cracking into a sob. “I only found out today… Julian, I don’t want anything. I don’t want your money. I’ll leave right now. I’ll go far away and never trouble you or Serena again…” “Go far away?” Julian let out a dark, mocking laugh. His eyes were cold and merciless. “And let a stain carrying half my blood exist in this world? Giving you a permanent excuse to blackmail Serena in the future? In your dreams!” He violently shoved me away. In my weakened state, I lost my balance and fell hard against the sharp edge of the dining table, hitting my abdomen. A sharp pain shot through my stomach, and I gasped, curling my body tightly to shield my womb. Julian loomed over me, looking down at me like a god delivering a sentence. “Only Serena has the right to bear my children. The thing inside your stomach doesn’t deserve to see the light of day.” I forced my head up, my eyes wide with utter despair. “Julian, this is your child too!” Five years. Even if you raised a dog for five years, you would have some affection for it. Yet he didn’t show a single ounce of hesitation. “So what?” Julian adjusted his tie, his voice entirely flat. “Tomorrow morning, my medical team will perform the procedure.” Without another look, he turned on his heel and walked toward the door. “If that thing inside her isn’t cleaned out by tomorrow, you’re all fired,” he barked at the bodyguards waiting outside. The heavy door slammed shut, crushing my very last hope. My suitcase was standing right behind that door. I was only one step away from escaping with my baby. I lay on the freezing floor, the blood from my ankles mixing with my tears on the wood.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “431146”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster

To pay off my family’s eight-million-dollar debt to ruthless loan sharks, I married Garrett Vance, an uneducated coal mining tycoon. He wanted me because I was a beautiful, Ivy League-educated girl. I wanted him because his bank account was a bottomless pit of cash. I despised his lack of culture. I hated the way he smacked his lips when he chewed. Armed with his black card, I ruled his mansion like a tyrant. Yet, whenever I maxed out his credit cards, he would just smile warmly and say, “You look so beautiful, Chloe. The boys just pulled another truck of coal out of the shaft. It’s all yours to spend.” The night before Christmas Eve, Garrett went back to the West Virginia mines to hand out year-end bonuses. There was a cave-in. He didn’t make it out. Honestly? I felt a wave of relief. I was finally free of him. I put on my best makeup, ready to board a flight to Los Angeles for a solo vacation. But right before I left, his lawyer arrived with the key to Garrett’s private safe. Inside was a debit card containing fifty million dollars, resting on a crumpled note with messy, uneven handwriting: “Chloe, this money is for you. Take it to LA. Go live the life you’ve always wanted.”

Mr. Lawson, the attorney, placed the heavy brass key onto my marble dining table. Next to it lay a sleek bank card. “Before Mr. Vance passed,” Mr. Lawson said quietly, “he made it very clear that every single dollar of this fifty million has gone through a rigorous, legal audit.” “It’s completely untangled from any high-risk shadow lending or unlicensed mining profits.” “He wanted me to tell you… this money is clean.” I picked up the card. It felt ice-cold in my hand. Even in death, Garrett remembered my neuroses. I had always complained that his cash smelled like coal dust. I hated the physical bills, swearing they were covered in his spit from counting them. So, he had washed this fifty million dollars spotlessly clean, just for me. I slid the card into my designer bag and looked up at the lawyer. “Is there anything else?” Mr. Lawson blinked, seemingly caught off guard by the fact that there wasn’t a single tear on my face. “No, ma’am. The remaining real estate and mining rights are caught up in complex legal disputes.” “Mr. Vance’s instructions were that if dealing with those messy assets became too much of a headache for you, you should just walk away. Just take this fifty million in cash and run.” I nodded. “Understood. Please show yourself out.” Suddenly, the front door of the mansion was kicked open from the outside. The heavy, custom-made copper door slammed against the wall with a deafening crash. A crowd of people barged into my foyer. Garrett’s relatives. Leading the pack was his Uncle Silas, wearing a cheap suit splattered with dried mud. His boots were clearly a size too big, leaving dark, wet streaks across my pristine Persian rug. Behind him were seven or eight men and women from his hometown. Silas pointed a thick, dirty finger right at my nose. “Hand over the money, Chloe! Now that Garrett is dead, the Vance family fortune isn’t staying in the hands of some outsider bitch like you!” A woman next to him spat right onto my hardwood floor. “Cold-hearted gold-digger! If Garrett hadn’t paid off your father’s debts, you’d be selling your body on the streets by now!” “Now that he’s gone, you think you can just pack up and run with his cash? No way in hell!” I sat on the velvet sofa, unmoving. My eyes drifted to the wet puddle on my cream-colored wool rug. It was sickening. When Garrett was alive, as rough and uncultured as he was, he never dared to spit inside the house. He knew I was a germaphobe. Every time he had to cough, he would run out to the backyard. Now that he was dead, these people were ruining my home. Seeing my silence, Silas assumed I was terrified. He marched toward me, reaching out to grab the designer bag on the table. “I’ll take that!” I picked up my steaming cup of black coffee and threw it directly at him. The scalding liquid splashed over the back of Silas’s hand. He shrieked, clutching his hand as he stumbled backward. “You crazy bitch! You burned me! Trash the place! Smash everything! Find where she hid the rest of the money!” The group raised their crowbars and iron pipes, ready to tear the living room apart. I calmly pulled out my phone and dialed a number on speakerphone. The dispatcher’s voice echoed through the room: “911, what is your emergency?” I spoke clearly into the receiver: “I am at 101 Aspen Heights Drive. There is an active home invasion. A mob has forced entry into my residence with weapons and is attempting an armed robbery. I am the homeowner, Chloe Vance. I have active security cameras recording everything.” The room fell dead silent. Silas’s eyes widened in shock. “Robbery? I’m his uncle! Taking my own nephew’s money isn’t robbery!” I hung up, pulled a stack of documents from my bag, and tossed them onto the table. “Garrett’s will is legally registered with the state probate court. I am his sole primary beneficiary. None of you have any blood relation to me under civil law.” “Forcing your way into a private residence with dangerous weapons to seize property is a Class A felony.” “Under state law, armed home invasion carries a minimum of ten years in federal prison.” I stood up, smoothing the creases of my silk dress. “As for the coffee, you attempted to assault me. It was self-defense.” I looked at the head of my estate security, who had just rushed in. “Block the exits. No one leaves until the police arrive.” My security team immediately moved into position, blocking the shattered doorway. The relatives, who had been shouting so boldly just moments ago, instantly panicked. Silas, clutching his red, blistering hand, hissed at me, “Chloe! You are heartless! Garrett’s body isn’t even cold yet, and this is how you treat his family?” I stared at him with cold, dead eyes. “Is his body not cold, or are you just eager to pick his bones? When Garrett was alive, you leeched off his blood.” “Now that he’s dead, you want to tear his corpse apart and sell it.” The police arrived minutes later. As Silas and his crew were led out in handcuffs, they were still screaming curses at me. Finally, the house was quiet. I pointed to the stain on the rug and looked at my housekeeper. “Throw it out. And sanitize every single spot they stepped on. Three times.” The housekeeper nodded, trembling as she began to clean. I sat back down on the empty sofa, staring at the vast, silent mansion. Garrett was dead. The man who snored like a chainsaw, smelled of cheap tobacco, and chewed with his mouth open was gone. No more rough, sandpaper-like hands trying to touch my face. No more soot-covered heavy jackets hanging next to my expensive designer coats. Even the faint scent of his cheap cigarettes had dissipated. I traced the cold edge of the black card in my bag. “Garrett,” I thought, “you died a messy, dirty death. But you sure kept your money clean.” “I suppose that’s the most dignified thing you’ve ever done.”

10:00 PM. The mansion was so quiet I could hear the rhythmic ticking of the grandfather clock in the hallway. I had sent the housekeeper home early. I walked over to the mahogany liquor cabinet. On the very top shelf sat a bottle of Domaine de la Romanée-Conti. Garrett had bought it two years ago. He didn’t know anything about wine; he just knew it was incredibly expensive. He had brought it home to please me, only to be met with my biting sarcasm. I had told him, “Someone who drinks cheap draft beer like water would only ruin a wine like this. Don’t touch it. You’ll get your dirty hands all over my bottle.” Since then, he had never touched that cabinet again. I uncorked the bottle and poured the deep red liquid into a crystal decanter. Holding my glass, I took a slow walk through the mansion that no longer held Garrett. It was far too quiet. Usually, around this time, Garrett would just be getting back from the mines. He would open the front door with extreme caution, standing at the entryway to change his shoes. He would leave his mud-caked work boots outside on the porch, walking in on his socks, terrified of leaving a single mark on my spotless floors. Then, he would call out in his booming voice, “Chloe! I’m home!” “The cafeteria at the mine had some great garlic bread today, but don’t worry, I didn’t eat any. Didn’t want to gross you out.” Then he would disappear into the bathroom, scrubbing himself raw with heavy soap, washing at least three times before he dared to even stand near me, asking sheepishly: “Chloe… can I sleep on the bedroom floor tonight?” But tonight, there were no muddy footprints in the foyer. There was no sound of running water from the master bath. No pleading, gentle voice. I took a sip of the wine. It was silky smooth, with notes of dark berries and oak. This was the life I wanted. No coal dust, no loud, uncouth noises. I pushed open the door to his study. This room had always been Garrett’s private space, a place I rarely entered. But I knew he kept a locked drawer in his desk. I had always assumed he kept a secret stash of cash in there, or maybe photos of some girls he met at the local bars. After all, isn’t that what all rich rednecks did? Now that he was dead, there was nothing left to hide. I grabbed a crowbar from the utility closet and pried the lock open. The drawer slid out. There was no cash. No photos of other women. Just a pile of random, bizarre junk. Hundreds of broken, blunt pencil stubs of varying lengths, piled up in a corner. And a thick stack of crumpled, cheap yellow legal paper—the kind miners used to keep inventory. The sheets of paper were covered in messy, dark charcoal smudges. They were caked in black coal dust. I frowned, picking up one of the pages. The black dust instantly stained my fingertips. With a grimace, I shook my hand. The paper showed a messy, dark sketch. The lines were chaotic and thick; I couldn’t even make out what it was supposed to be. Garrett was basically illiterate. He could barely write his own name. Why on earth was he trying to draw? The drawer smelled heavily of damp earth and sulfur. “A leopard never changes its spots,” I thought bitterly. “Even living in a multi-million dollar mansion, he couldn’t leave his coal behind.” I scooped up the papers along with the broken pencil stubs and threw them all into the trash can. A cloud of black dust billowed into the air. I held my breath, took a few steps back, and used a wet wipe to scrub my fingers. The black soot was stubborn, lodged deep in the ridges of my skin. A wave of irritation washed over me. I unlocked my phone and opened Snapchat, wanting to find someone to talk to. I remembered a young artist I had met at a gallery downtown. He was clean, soft-spoken, and refined. I scrolled past a contact pinned near the top of my chat list—a contact I had labeled “The Coal Dust.” My finger hovered over the screen. His profile picture was a dark, grainy photo of a mine shaft entrance. Whenever I used to ignore his calls, he would send me endless messages… “Hey Chloe, I’m just at the entrance of the shaft. Got some signal here. Did you eat dinner yet?” I locked my phone. I tossed it onto the sofa. Looking at my half-empty wine glass, the rich taste suddenly felt incredibly bland. I looked out into the empty living room and whispered, “Garrett, you are so annoying. Even dead, you leave your trash for me to clean up.”

On the third day, the morgue called me to identify the body. I did a full face of makeup. I wore a black haute couture dress, pairing it with four-inch Louboutins. To block out the smell of death and decay, I practically bathed myself in expensive French perfume. The hallway outside the cold room was packed with people. Aside from me, they were all families of the other miners who had died in the cave-in. They wore dusty, oversized winter coats, kneeling on the dirty linoleum floor, sobbing hysterically with tears and snot running down their faces. I stood there amongst them like a peacock that had wandered into a chicken coop. An assistant walked up and offered me a blue surgical mask. “Mrs. Vance, please prepare yourself. Mining accidents… they aren’t pretty.” I took the mask, looked at the cheap, disposable fabric with distaste, and tossed it aside. “I don’t need it. Just take me in.” The assistant pushed open the heavy steel door of the cold storage room. A sharp, overpowering wave of chemical disinfectant mixed with a sickening, metallic stench hit me instantly. I reflexively covered my nose with a silk handkerchief. The assistant pulled out one of the metal drawers and unzipped a yellow body bag. “This is Garrett Vance.” I looked down. In that fraction of a second, my chest tightened. It wasn’t the goofy, sunburned face I was used to seeing. It was a horrific, unrecognizable mess of torn flesh and bone. His face was caked in thick black coal dust—soot that had been ground so deeply into his skin during the collapse that it had become one with his flesh. Half of his skull was completely caved in. His lips were split wide, exposing teeth stained with dark residue. The expensive Italian suit he had bought specifically to wear around me was reduced to bloody, shredded rags, stuck to his body by dried, black blood. Dirty. It was so incredibly dirty. It was the most grotesque thing I had ever seen in my life. My stomach violently turned. It wasn’t grief. It wasn’t heartbreak. It was pure, visceral physical revulsion. I pushed the assistant aside, bent over, and retched. I threw up my morning coffee right onto my eight-hundred-dollar designer heels. The sobbing families outside stopped, staring at me in absolute shock. Someone muttered under their breath, “Look at her. Her husband is dead and she doesn’t even cry. She’s just disgusted by him.” “Typical. Rich girls have no souls.” I heard them. But I didn’t care. I stood up straight, wiping my mouth with my silk handkerchief. Then, I tossed the stained handkerchief into the biohazard bin. My eyes fell on the hand peeking out of the body bag. Two of his fingers were broken, and the nails were packed with black dirt. I suddenly remembered that very hand reaching out to hold the train of my wedding dress so it wouldn’t touch the wet ground, only for me to kick him away. “Don’t touch me, Garrett. You’re filthy.” At the time, he had slowly pulled his hand back, wiping it nervously against his trousers, smiling his usual goofy smile. “Right. Sorry, Chloe. I’m dirty. I won’t touch.” And now, he had finally become nothing more than a pile of broken, discarded flesh. I turned to the morgue worker. “It’s him. Creamate him.” “Would you like to hold a viewing or a memorial service first, Mrs. Vance?” “No. He didn’t care for formalities when he was alive, and looking like this, there’s no point in putting on a show. Just burn the body and hand me the ashes.” I turned and walked out. My heels clicked sharply against the cold concrete floor. In my mind, I spoke to him: “See, Garrett?” “Even in death, you never learned how to be clean.” “You made such a mess of yourself. How do you expect me to cry for you?”

The moment I got home, I kicked off my stained designer heels and threw them straight into the outdoor trash bin. I walked barefoot into the silent living room. My phone rang. The screen lit up with the caller ID: “Dad”. I answered it. My father’s anxious, greedy voice immediately filled the line. “Chloe! I saw the news! Is that dirtbag Garrett really dead? Did the insurance money kick in yet? What did the lawyers say?” I sat on the sofa, staring at the small, black urn resting on the coffee table. “It’s taken care of,” I said flatly. My father’s voice jumped an octave. “How much? Is it over ten million?” “Your brother needs a down payment for that penthouse in Manhattan, and his fiancée is demanding a massive wedding. You need to wire us five million right now! No, make it ten!” I didn’t say a word. My mind was suddenly pulled back to five years ago. Back then, I was the golden girl of UPenn, holding a full scholarship, standing proudly in my white dress outside the library. But my father had shown up with a group of angry bookies, grabbing me by my hair and dragging me toward a car. “Who cares about your stupid degree! I owe eight million dollars! Selling you to that coal miner is the only way to save my neck!” I had screamed, cried, and begged for help. No one dared to intervene. Until a mud-splattered Range Rover came speeding in, ramming straight into the bookies’ car. Garrett had jumped out of the driver’s seat, holding a heavy duffel bag. He slammed the bag onto the hood of his car, the zipper bursting open to reveal stacks of hundred-dollar bills. He pointed a finger at the men dragging me and roared: “Take the cash! The girl comes with me!” On our wedding night, I had locked myself in the master bedroom, holding a pair of heavy scissors to my throat. I screamed at him, “Don’t you dare come near me! You’re a kidnapper! I’d rather die than let you touch me!” Garrett stood in the doorway, looking incredibly awkward in his ill-fitting tuxedo. “I… I didn’t mean to force you, Chloe. Your dad told me you wanted to marry me.” “He lied to you! You’re nothing but an uneducated, backwood brute! You make me sick!” Garrett scratched his head, his face turning bright red with embarrassment. “Then… I won’t touch you. You’re a smart girl, a college graduate. I’m just a dumb worker. Having you in my house is enough to make me happy.” That night, he actually took a blanket and went to sleep on the living room sofa. The leather sofa was far too small for his six-foot-three frame; he had to curl his body up like a giant, clumsy bear. My father’s voice was still screaming through the phone. “Are you listening to me, you ungrateful brat? It’s a blessing that redneck died! Our family is finally free!” “Get the money and bring it home. Don’t you dare keep it all for yourself!” “Free?” I whispered the word. I looked at the cold, black urn on the table. Suddenly, a suffocating tightness gripped my chest. For the first time in my life, I screamed back at my father: “He wasn’t a redneck! His name was Garrett Vance!” My father went quiet for a second, then exploded into a rage. “Why are you defending a dead man? He was a dirty, worthless miner! His life wasn’t worth a single hair on your brother’s head!” “He was cleaner than anyone in our goddamn family!” I slammed the phone down, ending the call, and immediately blocked his number. I threw the phone onto the couch. And then, without warning, tears began to stream down my face. I touched my wet cheeks in confusion. Why was I crying? Was it out of joy for finally being free of my parasitic family? Or was it because the shield that had always stood between me and those monsters had finally crumbled? The doorbell rang. It was Mr. Lawson again. He held another thick Manila envelope in his hand. “Mrs. Vance, this is the second document Mr. Vance left for you.” “He instructed me to give this to you only after you had dealt with your family’s… complications, and your mind was at peace.” I wiped my tears and took the envelope. “What is this? More money?” Mr. Lawson shook his head, his expression incredibly solemn. “No. It’s Mr. Vance’s medical records.” “Medical records?” I pulled the documents out. At the very top was an X-ray of a pair of lungs. The lung tissue was almost entirely black, covered in dense, spiderweb-like shadows and massive fibrotic nodules. Below it was the official diagnosis: “Late-stage Black Lung Disease (Coal Workers’ Pneumoconiosis), with severe respiratory failure.” The date on the report was from three years ago. My hands began to shake violently. Three years ago? But three years ago, Garrett was as strong as an ox. He could eat a whole steak in minutes. The lawyer spoke softly. “Mr. Vance was diagnosed three years ago. The specialist told him that if he didn’t retire from the high-dust mining environment immediately, he wouldn’t survive another five years. But…” The lawyer paused, looking at me with pity. “But right around that time, you two had a massive argument. You told him his money smelled like filthy coal dust.” “You said you wanted ‘clean’ money. Money that could be moved offshore, money that didn’t feel dirty.” A loud ringing filled my ears. I remembered. I had been mocked by my old college classmates for marrying a crude “dirt-money” miner. I had come home in a rage, smashing expensive vases. I had pointed at his chest and screamed, “Your money is blood money, Garrett! I feel disgusted just spending it!” Garrett had knelt on the floor, quietly picking up the shattered porcelain. After a long silence, he had looked up and said, “Don’t be mad, Chloe. I’ll figure something out. I’ll get you clean money.” Mr. Lawson continued: “To clean his assets and accumulate fifty million dollars in completely audited, legal cash, Mr. Vance took on several highly dangerous deep-well extraction projects.” “Those were high-yield, high-risk shafts that only desperate workers would ever touch due to the extreme dust density. But they paid the most.” “He was literally trading his remaining breath for that clean cash.” I stared at the black shadows on the X-ray. I remembered how, over the last two years, he would always slip down to the basement late at night. I had assumed he was sneaking cigarettes down there and had yelled at him for it. He wasn’t smoking. He was suffocating. I remembered finding blood-stained towels in the laundry machine. He had laughed it off, claiming it was just dry weather causing nosebleeds. He was coughing up blood. He was terrified of waking me. He was terrified I would find his blood dirty. So he would press a towel to his mouth, hiding in the dark basement, coughing his lungs to pieces in silence, never making a sound. Because I was the beautiful, delicate swan, and he was just the mud on the ground. How could the mud dare to stain the swan’s feathers? I gripped the plastic X-ray sheet so hard the sharp edge sliced into my finger. A drop of bright red blood dripped onto the black image of his ruined lungs. “Garrett.” “Are you completely stupid?” “The money you bought with your dying breath is sitting in my purse right now.” “But why does this fifty million feel so much hotter than the coal dust you lived in?”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “431145”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster

My mom’s face fell instantly. Her hands shook with anger as she forced the vintage, million-dollar diamond heirloom ring back into her purse. She turned to look at me, her lips pale with rage. “That Julian guy is doing this on purpose! I knew he was trouble from the start. Who keeps changing a house design this many times?” “Mom,” I whispered, cutting her off. “Chloe’s parents are still in the room.” Everyone’s attention had been drawn to Chloe and me because of that cheap pipe fitting. Then, their eyes shifted to Julian Brooks, our interior designer. Julian pushed up his glasses and gave Chloe an approving nod. Chloe was completely absorbed in her discussion with him, pointing out several other things she wanted to change. Marcus, the general contractor, was a smart guy. He cracked a few jokes about imported materials, instantly breaking the tense silence in the room. My mom didn’t say anything else. She just walked over to discuss something with my dad. The inspection ended in a blur. I barely paid attention to the rest of it. I could feel the apologetic, helpless stares coming from Chloe’s parents. Meanwhile, Chloe was still in the bathroom with Julian, passionately debating some minor layout adjustment. The chemistry between them had long crossed the line of a normal client-designer relationship. Originally, Julian was only hired to handle the basic utility and plumbing layouts. But Chloe had insisted on handing the entire interior design over to him. She kept saying he was a genius and needed room to unleash his creativity. She even insisted that he attend today’s walkthrough, despite it being an intimate event meant only for our families. Once we left the house, my mom found a moment to whisper to me. She grabbed my hand tightly, her voice dripping with suppressed fury. “That designer has been playing games since last year. I did some digging, Ethan. He and Chloe went to college together in London. He’s actively trying to ruin your wedding. And Chloe is letting him—” “Mom,” I said, gently squeezing her hand. “I’ve got this. Let’s not talk about it right now.” She sighed and dropped the subject. The others had already left the driveway. Chloe walked over slowly. “Ethan, we found a lot of issues today.” She naturally slid her arm through mine, acting as if nothing had happened. I quietly pulled my arm away. “I need to help our parents to their cars.” She didn’t seem to notice my coldness. “Okay, sounds good.” After sending them off, we drove back to our apartment. The car merged into the heavy rush-hour traffic. The rearview mirror caught my expressionless face. The man in the reflection looked incredibly exhausted. “About today,” Chloe suddenly started explaining, “that pipe really was substandard. Julian has an incredible eye. We’re lucky he caught the issue.” “Since it’s our dream home, we can’t have any flaws. Don’t overthink it.” “Julian is already contacting a British supplier to see if we can get a rush delivery.” I remained silent, staring at the red taillights of the traffic gridlock ahead. She waited for a response. When none came, she finally looked up from her Snapchat chat with Julian. “Are you mad?” She leaned closer to me. “Didn’t we agree to build the most perfect home together?” She rested her hand on my arm and leaned her head against my shoulder. She spoke to me like she was soothing a toddler. “Our home is going to be better than everyone else’s. Everything inside must be imported. Just be patient.” A wave of utter exhaustion washed over me. It was always like this. She used the excuse of “perfection” to keep pitching a future that would never arrive. And she expected me to put my entire life on hold for it. “Chloe,” I said, keeping my eyes on the red light ahead. “Yeah?” “My dad’s health is failing.” My voice was dead calm. “When he was hospitalized last time, I promised him he’d see me get married this year.” “I want him to watch me start my family. I want him to have peace of mind.” The car fell dead silent. She sat up straight, pulling away from my shoulder. “That was your promise to your dad. Why didn’t you discuss this with me first?” Her tone grew irritated. She picked up her phone again, her fingers tapping the screen with impatience. “The house isn’t even finished yet! How can we get married? What, are we going to invite all our friends to this tiny apartment?” “We need to take our time to make it perfect. Why are you in such a rush?” Her excuses were getting lazier and lazier. I suddenly remembered my dad using all his connections to book our wedding venue for Labor Day weekend two months ago. When I had excitedly shared the news with her back then, a flash of anxiety had crossed her eyes. “That’s great!” she had said. “I’ll tell Julian right away. I want him to design the wedding hall!” Then, she had immediately gone back to scrolling through her phone. Back then, I was just happy we finally had a date. Now, I realized how incredibly foolish I had been. The car pulled up to our apartment building and stopped. Chloe unbuckled her seatbelt. Assuming the conversation was over, she leaned in to kiss my cheek. I turned my head away. She froze. “I’m tired, Chloe.”

She stared at me, silent for a few seconds. Finally, she reached out to adjust my collar. “Renovations are stressful. Go upstairs and get some rest.” “Julian said he got some new inspiration. He wants me to go over and look at the blueprints. Poor guy is pulling an all-nighter for us.” “Okay,” I replied flatly. She didn’t get out of the car immediately. She seemed to be waiting for me to act like my old self—to tell her not to stay out too late, or to complain about her meeting a guy this late. But I just pushed the door open, stepped out, and walked away without looking back. Behind me, I heard her engine rev as she drove off. Back in the apartment, I collapsed onto the sofa. It took me a long time to finally drag myself into the study. As I passed the filing cabinet, I stopped. We bought this cabinet together five years ago when we first decided to buy a house. We had promised each other that it would be filled with blueprints of our future. I pulled open the bottom drawer. Hidden beneath a thick stack of renovation contracts and invoices was a yellowed piece of paper. It was our hand-drawn floor plan. It had our scribbled ideas, her dream walk-in closet, my gaming setup… At the bottom were our signatures side-by-side. Her neat, elegant handwriting next to my bold strokes. [Chief Designer: Ethan Vance. Chief Planner: Chloe Carter.] Next to the signatures, I had written: “Building our dream home. A promise is a promise.” The warm light of the desk lamp hit those words, making them look like a cruel joke. My phone rang. It was a FaceTime call from Chloe. I didn’t answer right away. I just watched the screen light up. The phone rang relentlessly. Finally, I swiped to accept. Her excited voice blasted through the speaker. “Ethan! We made a new decision. Look at this rendering!” She pointed her camera at a computer screen. “Sure. Whatever you think is best.” I didn’t look at the screen. My eyes were still fixed on our old hand-drawn sketch. Chloe noticed the paper through the camera. “Why did you dig out that old drawing?” she asked, laughing. “Feeling nostalgic?” I ignored her question and asked quietly, “Does the new plan require major changes again?” She hesitated. “Just a few. Julian’s mind works differently. His vision is on another level.” “I see.” I slowly and carefully folded the paper and put it back in the drawer. “We have a few more details to go over. I’m going to hang up,” she said, ready to end the call. I didn’t hang up. I pushed myself up from the desk. My back felt stiff from sitting too long, and I had to steady myself. “Chloe.” “Yeah?” Her background was noisy. “Let’s call off the engagement.” The line went quiet for a second, and then she let out a soft laugh. “Are you seriously still throwing a tantrum over some pipes? Don’t be childish.” Her tone was condescending, like she was dealing with a stubborn kid. “Alright, fine. I’ll have him order the parts overnighted from the UK, okay? Go to sleep. You have work tomorrow.” She was about to end the call. “Next month,” I said clearly to the camera, “the wedding is happening.”

She went dead silent. A few seconds passed before she spoke again. The sweet, patronizing tone was entirely gone. “Ethan Vance, stop playing games.” She took a sharp breath. “Marriage is a life event, not a tool for you to throw tantrums.” “Labor Day weekend.” I gave her the exact date. “The venue and the caterers are already confirmed.” She let out a cold scoff. “Did your dad pressure you again today? Is he really that desperate? He doesn’t even care that our house isn’t finished?” “Ethan, grow up. Stop letting your family run your life. We are the ones living in that house—” “Chloe, let me make this clear,” I interrupted. “The invitations are going out tomorrow. This is happening. I’m not asking for your permission. I’m letting you know.” I could hear her breathing getting heavier on the other end. “Who do you think you’re talking to, Ethan? Did I give you too much leeway? You think you can force me into this? This just proves you’re an insecure, controlling jerk!” “I am trying to build our perfect home. Any flaw is a desecration of that dream, and it ruins Julian’s entire design!” “Are you really that desperate for a stupid ceremony?” Her words cut like ice. In the past, accusations like this would make me anxious. I would have rushed to explain myself and apologize. But right now, I felt absolutely nothing. Sure, the designer’s “inspiration” was sacred. More importantly, Chloe was the only one who understood Julian’s art, and Julian only had Chloe as his client. Their late-night brainstorming sessions, their weekend trips to museums, and their “material sourcing” trips abroad… All that was left for me, the fiancé, was an endless pile of bills. I met the silence on the other end of the line and admitted it. “Yes. My parents are getting old. I want to start my family now.”

With that, I hung up. My laptop was still open on the side table. The screen showed the wedding planner’s portal. The header was clear: [Wedding Details Confirmation: Mr. Vance & Miss Carter]. I had been so excited to send this to her weeks ago, but she had brushed me off with a “let’s wait a bit.” I hadn’t opened the tab since. The night dragged on, and I couldn’t sleep. My phone lit up again. It was a text from my dad. He was still awake too. [How did it go? What did Chloe say? Your mom was so upset she barely ate dinner.] [Both families already agreed on the date. We can’t change it now, Ethan. It would make us look foolish in front of everyone.] What did she say? She didn’t say much of anything. In this world, not every plan comes to fruition. Not every renovation gets finished. A moment later, another text from my dad popped up: [Sigh. If Chloe is really being difficult, don’t force it. I’ll figure something out. Son, I know you’re stuck in the middle.] [Never mind. I understand your situation. Let nature take its course.] My fingers hovered over the keyboard for a long time. Finally, I typed back: [Don’t worry, Dad. I won’t let you down.]

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “431144”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster