Author: Momo Chan

The day I discovered my husband, Leo, was cheating, his health report arrived, confirming a severely weakened heart. The doctor repeatedly warned me: “Your husband must avoid any strong emotions, especially when it comes to sex. He needs to abstain, or risk sudden death.” I nodded, but the moment I was out of sight, I tore up the report. After that, I played the role of the tender wife, pretending ignorance of his affair, even deliberately creating opportunities for him to cheat. Until one night, Leo died of sudden cardiac arrest while he was with his mistress, Eve. Holding the autopsy report, I faced a sobbing Eve and said, “You murderer, I’ll see you locked up for life!” Watching Eve’s terrified, panicked face, I couldn’t help but smile to myself. His inheritance, plus Eve’s compensation, would soon all be mine. Our seemingly perfect, middle-class life, envied by outsiders, crumbled today. Blown to pieces by two packages that arrived simultaneously. One was a thick envelope from a private investigator, filled with countless photos. My husband, Leo, walking hand-in-hand through the mall with a younger woman, kissing passionately in front of his car, and even entering a discreet adult hotel together. The photos were blindingly clear. The woman’s face was radiant, captivating—displaying a brazen vulnerability and dependence I had never once shown Leo. The dates ranged from six months ago to just yesterday. The other package was from the City Medical Center, containing Leo’s comprehensive health report. I had been casually flipping through it until my eyes landed on the cardiovascular section: severe coronary artery atherosclerosis, critical stenosis. Warning: Extremely high risk of acute myocardial infarction. Immediate intervention recommended. Avoid emotional agitation, excessive fatigue, overeating… Avoid emotional agitation? I looked at the warning in the health report, then back at Leo’s flushed face in the photos, eyes gleaming with excitement as he held that woman around the waist. A frantic thought took root. The blade of betrayal and the gravedigger’s shovel – both handed to me at the same time. The world fell silent for a moment. Then, a strange calm mixed with excitement enveloped me. I didn’t cry, didn’t make a scene, didn’t even feel the expected heartache. Only a cold, hard thing named revenge quietly solidified within me. Well, Leo, you’re having so much fun out there, but what happens when you burn yourself out? As your lawful wife, it’s my duty to help you replenish your energy, isn’t it? I picked up the health report, carefully tucking it into the bottom drawer. Then, I shredded the unbearable photos. Afterward, I put on my apron and started preparing dinner. The rich aroma of roasted pork ribs wafted from the kitchen – Leo’s favorite, but also precisely the kind of dish the doctor had strictly warned him to avoid. At seven sharp, Leo came home. His shirt collar had a smudge of glaring fuchsia lipstick. He handed me his briefcase as usual, his tone carrying a subtle hint of perfunctory dismissal: “Lots of company stuff today, I’m exhausted.” I greeted him, taking his bag, my smile impeccably gentle: “You work so hard, Leo. Go wash up, I made your favorite roasted pork ribs, and I opened a nice bottle of wine to help you unwind.” Leo looked at me with a touch of surprise, apparently not expecting this reaction. He probably anticipated an interrogation or a cold war. After all, just yesterday we had a huge fight because he’d “worked late” until dawn again. But he was quickly drawn in by the aroma, a familiar, somewhat entitled look of satisfaction spreading across his face: “You’re so good to me.” I watched him devour the thick, glossy pieces of meat slathered in sauce, watched him drain the wine glass I had filled. The stagnant pool in my heart stirred, a ripple of greasy satisfaction spreading through it. Eat, drink, my dear husband. This is only the beginning. Your good times are still to come. On the surface, I remained Freya, the gentle, considerate wife. But in the shadows, I became the most patient hunter, weaving Leo’s fate inch by inch with silken threads of tenderness. Our daily meals were completely revamped, all under the guise of “nourishment.” Breakfast was no longer oatmeal and whole wheat toast, but sizzling bacon and eggs, paired with crispy, buttered white toast, and a high-sugar, full-fat chocolate milk. Leo ate with a wide smile, praising my cooking and saying I’d become more “caring.” “Darling, you work so hard every day, so much brainpower. You need quality fats and protein.” I refilled his bacon, watching his slightly bruised eye bags with feigned concern. “Your complexion still doesn’t look great lately. Is work stress too much? How about I fry you a steak tonight to give you a boost? That’s the most nourishing.” Leo mumbled a reply, eyes glued to his phone, fingers flying across the screen, a subtle smile playing on his lips. I didn’t need to guess who was on the other end. My heart felt dipped in ice water, but the smile on my face grew even softer. Dinner was the main event. Lamb chops, steak, foie gras, ice cream… a rotating feast. Fats and sugars are silent killers for the cardiovascular system, and I, with my own hands, disguised these assassins as a feast of love, feeding them spoonful by spoonful into my husband’s mouth. He ate until his mouth was greasy, occasionally touching his chest and saying, “A bit rich, I feel bloated.” I would immediately hand him a pre-prepared strong coffee or fresh juice, saying softly, “Drink some coffee to cut through the richness, and juice for vitamins. Your stomach’s just a bit sensitive since you don’t go out much. You’ll get used to it after a few more times. It’s all for your health.” Occasionally, he’d cast a scrutinizing glance my way, but it would always melt under my impeccable concern.

The real ‘extra meals’ happened late at night. Leo’s “overtime” became increasingly frequent and late. Before, he would at least come up with plausible excuses. Now, it was almost just a notification. I never pressed him. Instead, when he returned late at night, reeking of booze and cheap perfume, collapsing onto the sofa and complaining of exhaustion, I’d tie on my apron and head into the kitchen. Ten minutes later, a steaming bowl of instant ramen, topped with a golden fried egg and a few slices of spam, shimmering with oil, or a generously portioned microwave pizza, loaded with stretchy cheese, would be placed before him. “You’re back so late, you must not have eaten properly. Going to bed on an empty stomach is bad for you, hurry and eat something while it’s hot.” I sat opposite him, propping my chin on my hand, my eyes so gentle they could melt. “I also brewed a pot of strong coffee for you, to perk you up. You don’t want to get sleepy after eating, do you? Don’t you still have emails to deal with?” Leo usually had already had a late-night snack in Eve’s “love nest,” but faced with my earnest care, plus the energy drained by his illicit affair, he often managed to force down a considerable amount more. High-salt, high-fat late-night meals, combined with the stimulating caffeine, forcibly awakened his nerves in the dead of night. His heart raced, his face flushed. Several times, after eating, he’d irritably tear open his collar, pacing the living room and complaining, “Damn it, I’m stuffed and wired, can’t sleep now.” At this, I’d slip on the running jacket and shoes I’d conveniently left by the sofa, my eyes bright: “Can’t sleep? Let’s go for a night run! The doctor said moderate cardio is good for sleep and strengthens your heart and lungs. I’ll go with you!” Leo was initially resistant, but he couldn’t resist my persistent coaxing. Sometimes I’d say things like, “Look, your belly’s getting a bit soft. Running will help you stay in shape. I love it when you have abs,” half-coaxing, half-encouraging. His deep-seated male chauvinism and vanity were completely satisfied. So, at one or two in the morning, the figures of us, the “loving” couple, began appearing on the quiet streets outside our neighborhood. Of course, I couldn’t really run. After a few hundred meters, I’d stop, breathless, leaning on a streetlamp, waving him on: “Honey… I can’t go on, you’re… you’re so fit… You keep running, I’ll wait for you here and cheer you on!” Leo’s vanity swelled under my admiring gaze and the occasional surprised, somewhat envious looks from passersby. He was like a spinning top whipped by an invisible lash, running furiously under my watchful eye, on the silent streets. I could see the veins bulging in his neck, hear his increasingly heavy, bellows-like breathing. Meanwhile, I’d slowly walk to the 24-hour convenience store, buy two energy drinks, then sit on a bench by the roadside, taking out my phone. The screen displayed real-time data from his health app. Heart rate: 158, 162, 165… constantly climbing, hovering near the danger zone. When he finally finished one or two laps, sweat-soaked and purple-faced, returning to my side, I’d immediately rush up, wipe his sweat with a towel, hand him a drink, my face full of concern: “Darling, you’ve sweated so much, you must have burned a lot of energy. Are you hungry? There’s a BBQ joint still open over there, shall we grab something to replenish your strength? If you don’t refuel after exercise, you’ll lose muscle.” And so, Leo, fresh from his “healthy” night run, would once again find himself at a smoky BBQ joint, eating greasy grilled meat and drinking ice-cold beer. I watched him with a smile, as he consumed those high-salt, high-fat, high-purine foods. A few scattered late-night diners and the BBQ joint owner all looked on with admiration. “Buddy, you’re a lucky man! Your wife’s gorgeous and so thoughtful. She even works out with you late at night and then feeds you!” “Not many couples work out together like you two these days. Such a great relationship!” Leo, puffed up by these compliments, guzzled his beer, arm around my shoulder, boasting to onlookers, “That’s right, my wife’s one of a kind!” I leaned into his embrace, smiling as I accepted everyone’s praise, my fingers subtly tapping my phone screen, checking his health app data from an angle he couldn’t see. His daily diet was the high-load foundation. My ‘loving’ late-night snacks added fuel to the fire. The ill-timed night runs were the final straw. And the BBQ and beer after his workout? The perfect, deadly cycle. Every step was filled with a wife’s profound concern for her husband’s health. Every step pushed his already fragile heart closer to the brink of collapse. A neighbor lady bumped into me at the supermarket and complimented me: “You look so well lately, dear. Must be your husband making you happy. I see him running every night, he’s got more energy than a twenty-year-old!” I smiled shyly: “Oh, he’s just restless. But exercise is always good, and I support him.” I supported him. Yes, I supported him more than anyone, towards the ‘healthy’ end I had so meticulously prepared for him.

My physical care was meticulous, and I never relaxed my mental and physiological manipulation either. However, from the day I confirmed his affair, my body had completely shut him out. Every touch physically repulsed me. But that didn’t stop me from keeping him in a state of insatiable hunger, high arousal, yet utterly unsatisfied by me. I began deliberately changing my information consumption habits. My browser history would occasionally show pages for adult novelty stores and niche lingerie brands. The search bar on my shopping apps would be filled with keywords like ‘sexy,’ ‘seductive,’ ‘couple’s intimacy.’ Big data algorithms are ruthless and efficient. Soon, not just my phone, but the shared household tablet, and even Leo’s own phone, began popping up with related recommendations. Ads for barely-there lingerie, promotions for all sorts of bizarre products, and even short video clips disguised as ‘tutorials’ but actually quite explicit. At first, Leo would awkwardly swipe them away, scolding: “What kind of rubbish are you looking at all day?” But the light in his eyes didn’t lie. I wouldn’t argue, simply responding in a shyer, more innocent tone: “Oh, I just clicked on it by accident. This big data is so annoying…” My tone and expression were like a child who had just discovered a new world, both scared and curious. This blend of innocence and forbidden suggestion was more impactful than any direct seduction. Leo’s Adam’s apple bobbed. His gaze at me grew complex, holding surprise, suspicion, but mostly an undeniable, aroused desire. I created a new, anonymous social media account, with no connections to anyone we knew. Then, I ‘accidentally’ let Leo discover it. Consequently, bolder, more explicit images, links, and short videos began to ‘casually’ appear in our lives. I never said, “Let’s try this.” I just asked, “Does this look good?” or “Is this useful?” leaving the space for choice and imagination entirely to him. His body, ravaged by alcohol, high-fat diets, and irregular sleep, secreted untimely hormones of excitement. I knew he forwarded most of those pictures and links to Eve. Because I had inadvertently seen Eve’s replies pop up on his phone: “You devil, so kinky?!” “Buy it! I want the black one!” “This looks wild, let’s try it next time!” Their interactions, thanks to my unseen contribution, grew more passionate, more brazen. I could even imagine how Eve was using these ‘new toys’ to desperately please and bind Leo to her. This was exactly what I wanted. However, merely adding fuel to their fire from afar wasn’t enough. I needed this fire to burn more wildly, consuming him even faster. The opportunity soon arose. Eve was even more impulsive than I’d imagined. Perhaps my changes made her feel threatened, or maybe Leo’s recent physical discomfort made him less capable, causing her anxiety. She actually used a seemingly ordinary anonymous account to send me a SnapChat friend request. The message read: “Hey, thinking of trying out some new skincare? Let me know!” I looked at the profile picture and name and almost burst out laughing. Such a petty trick. I clicked “Accept.” She started sending me occasional skincare ads, her tone enthusiastic and humble. I would occasionally reply with a bland “Hmm,” or “I’ll take a look,” my attitude cool but polite. I posted on Ins, setting the privacy to ‘custom visibility,’ meaning only she could see it. The first photo was a lavish dinner I had cooked, captioned: “Hubby’s been working hard lately, so I’m nourishing him. He ate all of my loving dinner!~” The second was a profile shot of me wiping Leo’s sweat after his run, captioned: “Accompanying hubby on his night run. Even though he’s fast, I’ll always be at the finish line waiting for him.” The third showed a corner of our closet, vaguely revealing an adult novelty item, captioned: “Oh dear, my package arrived by accident, so embarrassing… I’ll surprise him when he gets back!” Every Ins post was precisely targeted. Sure enough, Leo’s “overtime” hours suddenly increased, and the timing became even more ridiculous. Sometimes he wouldn’t come home all night. When he returned, his face bore the exhaustion of overindulgence, his eyes bruised, but his spirit had an unnatural high. Besides his usual cologne, he sometimes carried the mixed scent of cheap essential oils or other strange fragrances. And whenever he received certain calls, looking hurried and about to leave, I would express just the right amount of disappointment, but quickly replace it with an understanding smile. “More overtime? Go on, don’t work too hard.” Or, before he left, I would gently pull him back, my face flushed, saying in a voice only we could hear: “My… my new nightgown arrived. Will you… come home early tonight?”

The most spectacular incident was on Leo and Eve’s one-year anniversary. That afternoon, I posted an Ins story visible only to Eve: an old photo of Leo and me, captioned: “It’s that day again. Thank you, darling, for always being there. See you at our usual spot tonight~” Then, I pre-booked Leo for dinner at home, telling him I’d learned to make his favorite fondant cake, a complex process, and he absolutely had to come home for it. At seven sharp, Leo arrived home, looking restless. I pulled him to sit down, fed him a bite of cake, my eyes as soft as water. Just as he picked up his spoon, his phone began to vibrate wildly. It was Eve. He glanced at it, his face subtly changing, and hung up. The phone rang again. He hung up again, and it rang once more. I looked at him, surprised: “What’s wrong? Urgent company matter?” Leo stammered: “No… just a difficult client.” “Then pick up, don’t delay important business,” I said thoughtfully. He awkwardly walked to the balcony and answered the call. The soundproofing was good, but I could still hear his low, anxious voice. “…I know what day it is! But I really can’t leave right now!… Stop making a scene, okay?!… What Ins post? You saw it wrong! That was an old one!… Hello? Eve! Hello!” He slumped, lowering the phone, and turned to see me watching him silently, still holding a soup spoon. His face was a mix of embarrassment, guilt, and unvented frustration. “Darling, I…” he tried to explain. But I smiled faintly, interrupting him: “Was that Eve? She sounds very anxious to find you. Is today… some important day for you two?” Leo looked as if he’d been struck by lightning, his face instantly draining of color. Without waiting for his answer, I put down the spoon, my voice still calm, even tinged with a weary tolerance: “Go on, don’t keep her waiting. I’ll save the soup for you.” In that moment, the expression on Leo’s face was priceless: the panic of being exposed, guilt towards me, and fury at Eve’s ill-timed theatrics. But he eventually grabbed his jacket and rushed out of the house, without even a proper explanation. I knew that when he left, he would face an Eve completely out of control, driven by jealousy and insecurity. Appeasing her would require ten times the energy and effort than usual. Indeed, Leo didn’t return until well past midnight, dragging himself in, even more exhausted, reeking of stale smoke and booze, an air of despondency clinging to him. He saw the living room light still on. I was curled up on the sofa, seemingly asleep, covered by a thin blanket, the TV playing some boring late-night show. He paused, then tiptoed over, his eyes filled with genuine remorse. He wanted to touch me, but didn’t dare. I stirred at the opportune moment, rubbed my eyes, and seeing him, offered a tired yet soft smile: “You’re back? Want some more cake?” “No, Freya!” He grabbed my hand, his voice hoarse, “I’m not hungry. Why… why aren’t you in bed?” “Waiting for you,” I whispered, with just the right touch of grievance and dependence. My lack of argument, my waiting, my fatigue, my forced tenderness in my eyes—they were like countless needles pricking his dwindling conscience. He felt an unprecedented wave of guilt, a guilt that demanded immediate atonement. “I’m sorry, Freya, I…” He stammered incoherently. Then, as if finding an outlet, he hastily added: “I’ll clean the kitchen! You go rest!” He rushed into the kitchen, clumsily started washing the pots and pans I had deliberately left, splashing water everywhere. After tidying up, he noticed the floor was a bit dirty. Without a word, he grabbed the mop and started cleaning the floor. After doing all this, his energy still had nowhere to vent. Or rather, guilt compelled him to do more to compensate. “Freya, you look pale. You haven’t been exercising. How about we do some yoga? I’ll join you!” He pulled out the dusty yoga mat. In the dead of night, after finishing chores, he started exercising again. His breathing quickly grew heavy once more, sweat beading on his forehead. After a few awkward yoga poses, he was still wide awake. Or rather, he dared not sleep. He was afraid if he closed his eyes, he’d see me, quietly waiting, or Eve’s hysterical face. “How about… we watch a movie? A horror film? That’ll wake us up.” he suggested, his eyes bloodshot. So, at three in the morning, we sat on the sofa, watching a horror movie with jarring sound effects and gory visuals. The screen’s light illuminated his pale, agitated face. With every sudden scare, his body jerked, his heart pounded like a drum. I leaned against him, feigning fear, gripping his arm, feeling the abnormal, violent throbbing of the veins beneath his skin, and his increasingly ragged breaths. As he stared intently at the screen, gasping in fear at the plot, I smiled coldly. Look how hard my husband works. Working hard to juggle two women, working hard to burn away what little health he had left. And I, I just quietly accompanied him, Until he completely burned out.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “419003”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster

While applying for colleges, I got a video call from my future self. The woman in the video looked utterly exhausted, screaming: “Don’t give up Harvard for Ethan! No one should ruin your future!” “Ethan truly loves Lily Smith, not you. They secretly agreed to get married right after college. Everyone knows about it!” I froze for a few seconds, then quickly changed all my applications to Harvard. Seeing me finish, the woman in the video visibly relaxed. She then leaned closer to the camera, speaking faster, “Go buy a lottery ticket tomorrow. The numbers are 122033, and buy ten of them! This money will completely change your fate.” “Also, no matter who tries to persuade you, don’t sell the old house Grandma left you. This area is scheduled for urban redevelopment soon.” “In two years, Horizon Tech’s stock will skyrocket a hundredfold before being delisted.” “What you need to do is buy heavily into it on May 6th, 2024, to bottom-feed.” “Eighteen-year-old Chloe Smith, you absolutely must save yourself from this mess. You must seize this opportunity and live a life of success.” As soon as she finished speaking, the video cut off, and my phone went completely black. I murmured, “I will.”

My bedroom was so quiet I could hear my own breathing. I stared intently at my phone, which was now just a black screen, my heart pounding. What had just happened felt like a dream. Compared to my youthful crush on Ethan, the undeniable regret and exhaustion in my future self’s eyes were like a bucket of ice water poured over my head, snapping me wide awake. My hands trembling, I pulled a notebook from my drawer and carefully wrote down the lottery numbers. Below them, I marked in red — “Don’t sell Grandma’s house, Horizon Tech.” After I finished, I let out a long breath. Just then, my phone buzzed with a SnapChat message from Ethan: [You changed your college applications to Texas College, right? Lily loves the ocean, so we’ll both go with her to the coast.] Lily’s message followed immediately: [Chloe, Ethan said you’d come to college with me and take care of me.] [Thanks! You really are the best sister in the world.] My gaze fell on the constantly popping up messages on my phone screen, and I slowly closed my eyes. Ethan was my childhood sweetheart, we grew up together. Lily was my half-sister. Half a month after my mom passed away, Dad brought Lily and her mom home. That’s when I found out I had a sister, Lily, who was only half a month younger than me. Grandma was worried I’d be mistreated, so she took me in and raised me. It wasn’t until Grandma passed away that I was sent back to live with Dad. Dad felt guilty and tried to make it up to me in every way possible, giving me more allowance than Lily. My stepmom was relatively kind; at least, she didn’t overtly make things difficult for me. Lily, on the other hand, loved sticking by my side, always telling everyone she had a super-smart older sister who aced everything. But after that phone call, I realized these people might not be worth it. My life, my future, should be my only pursuit, something I should give my all for. Perhaps seeing that I hadn’t replied for a long time, Ethan called directly. “Chloe, what’s going on? College applications are almost due. Have you even—” “Don’t worry, I’ve filled them out.” My voice was calm. Hearing this, the person on the other end of the line let out a sigh of relief. Then came Lily’s sweet and lively cheer, “Yay! That’s great! The three of us can be together again!” Lily’s voice was as innocent and harmless as it had been countless times before—she was a girl who truly grew up surrounded by love. Before, I would have thought that Lily depending on me and Ethan being by my side was the best thing ever. But now, I just felt a bitter irony. On the other end of the line, Ethan was completely at ease, his tone as gentle and confident as ever. “Chloe, I knew you’d be the most understanding.” “Texas College has a nice environment and is close to home. It’ll be convenient for all three of us to come back on holidays, much better than going thousands of miles north.” He always took things for granted. He never considered that I could have gone to Harvard and had a brilliant future. But thankfully, it wasn’t too late. I washed up and went to bed. I had a dreamless night. The next day, as soon as it was light, I woke up with a start. In my mind, that string of numbers, enough to rewrite my destiny, flashed over and over, perfectly clear. I quickly changed, not even stopping for breakfast, and rushed out the door, heading straight for the nearest lottery store. The morning breeze was cool, dispelling the summer heat. I walked up to the counter and recited the numbers I knew by heart: “Excuse me, I want to buy 122033, ten lines.”

Five minutes later, I walked out of the lottery store. I carefully folded the ten thin lottery tickets and put them into my pocket, close to my body. I unconsciously clenched my hand, my fingertips trembling slightly. Before yesterday, I was willing to sacrifice my own future for Ethan and Lily. But now, I only cared about myself. As I walked towards the apartment building. I vaguely heard rustling sounds from the lawn ahead. “Lily, let me hug you. I’ve missed you so much.” It was Ethan’s voice. Then came the sound of clothes rubbing together, and wet kissing sounds. I was about to walk past when I heard Ethan’s voice again, “Chloe is such a tag-along, always clinging to us. Good thing she’s not around today, or we wouldn’t have any alone time.” “You’re so bad, don’t talk about Chloe like that.” Lily’s coquettish voice followed. Ethan chuckled, taking over with a spoiled tone, “Okay, okay, we won’t talk about her.” “But Lily, we can’t go public yet. Chloe wouldn’t be able to handle it.” Lily sniffled, a little wronged, “Okay, I know. Chloe is so pitiful, and she’s always liked you a lot.” “Chloe is sensitive, fragile, and has a weird personality. She’s always disliked me. In her subconscious, Mom and I are the culprits who destroyed her family.” “But I actually like her.” Ethan sighed. “Lily, you’re just too kind. No matter what, you’re innocent.” I didn’t listen any further, turning and quickening my pace. To say I wasn’t sad at all would be a lie. Ethan was my most important friend when I was a child. Even after Dad took me back, my connection with Ethan never broke. He would worry about me being bullied, constantly reminding me to watch out for my stepmom, almost like he had paranoia. [Chloe, you have to be careful of your stepmom. She doesn’t look like a good person; that’s how it always goes in TV dramas.] [You should be careful of your dad too. After all, a new mom often means a new dad.] [That sister of yours isn’t simple either. A child born from an affair—what good could come from that?] [Chloe, if you get bullied, tell me, and I’ll rush over to save you that very night.] [We’re childhood sweethearts; I’ll be your strongest support.] Later in high school, Ethan threw tantrums at home to protect me, absolutely insisting on coming to the same school as me. … I took a deep breath. Compared to that slight melancholy, what filled my heart was the wild joy of impending destiny change. Back home, I buried myself in my room. By then, it was 8:50 AM. The lottery drawing was less than half an hour away. I reached into my pocket and touched the lottery tickets, feeling like I was holding a scorching hot fire-ball. Just then, someone knocked on my door. I opened it. It was Ethan who knocked, with Lily standing beside him. Seeing me, Lily immediately flashed a sweet smile, walked over, and linked her arm through mine, her voice soft, innocent, and spoiled, “Chloe, where did you go this morning? Ethan and I waited for you forever.” Ethan frowned at me, his eyes filled with worry and confusion, “What’s wrong with you? You haven’t replied to any messages all day. Do you know how worried we were about you?” “Didn’t check my phone.” I said dismissively. Ethan paused slightly, the tenderness in his eyes fading a bit, a flicker of annoyance crossing his brows. But soon, his brow smoothed, and he chuckled, “You’re throwing a fit because we asked you to apply to Texas College, aren’t you? Chloe, you’re so stubborn.” “Honestly, if you really didn’t want to, who could force you? But you can’t agree verbally and then secretly resent us.”

Lily quickly stepped between Ethan and me, playing the peacemaker, “Okay, okay, both of you say less.” She looked back at me, her voice soft and coaxing, “Chloe, we’re going on a trip. Are you coming? The SATs are finally over; shouldn’t we relax?” I subtly pulled my hand back. “No, I’m not interested.” The air hung heavy. But I didn’t pay them any more attention, turning back into my bedroom and closing the door. At this point, there were only five minutes left until the draw. The two outside seemed to say something else, but I couldn’t hear it. My gaze returned to the lottery draw page. The countdown ticked down, with only three minutes remaining. I pulled out the ten lottery tickets I had kept close to me, my hands trembling, and spread them out on the table. At 9:15 AM sharp, the numbers were drawn. Every single digit matched. In an instant, my blood surged, boiling hot! I stared intensely at the screen. A single winning ticket was ten million. Ten winning tickets meant a hundred million. After taxes, I’d have a solid eighty million dollars. The next morning, I put on the most inconspicuous baggy hoodie, a baseball cap, and a mask, then grabbed my ID and the lottery tickets to claim my prize. I arrived at the state lottery center around 11 AM. Following the procedures I had looked up in advance, I cooperated with the staff to complete registration, tax payment, and bank transfer. Two hours later, eighty million dollars were transferred into my newly opened exclusive bank account. Looking at the long string of numbers, I could barely suppress my smile. Indeed, money solves ninety-nine percent of problems. Perhaps because of the unpleasant argument the night before, Ethan seemed to be giving me a “lesson” and didn’t contact me all day. Lily, however, sent me a message: “Chloe, are you unhappy?” “No.” I replied. She clearly didn’t believe me but didn’t ask further. I got home in the evening. As soon as I opened the door, a heavy, oppressive atmosphere hit me. Dad sat on the sofa, smoking, his face full of worry, looking tired and anxious. My stepmom, Mrs. Jenkins, sat beside him, sighing frequently, her eyes red-rimmed. Lily sat close to Mrs. Jenkins, her eyes downcast. I changed my shoes as usual and walked over calmly. Hearing my movement, Dad looked up, speaking with some difficulty, “Chloe, you’re back. Dad needs to talk to you about something.” I looked at him, my gaze utterly calm. I could already guess what he was going to say. Sure enough, Dad spoke again, “The factory ran into big trouble. We’re having cash flow problems, and if this keeps up, we might… go bankrupt.” Mrs. Jenkins immediately chimed in, “Chloe, you’re a sensible girl. You know how important this factory is to our family. If it goes under, we’ll all struggle.” “The most urgent thing now is to cash out quickly and plug the hole!” With that, Mrs. Jenkins rushed over, grabbed my hand, and said urgently, “Chloe, the old house your grandma left you is in a great location, right next to the commercial district. We’ve checked; it can sell for at least five million, which is just enough to cover the debt.” I pulled my hand back, not a ripple of emotion in my eyes. My future self had repeatedly warned me to hold onto that old house. Seeing my silence, Dad grew more anxious, “Chloe, we’re family. You can’t just ignore us when the family is in trouble. That old house is sitting empty; it’s a waste to keep it. We might as well sell it for an emergency.” “Once Dad gets through this, I’ll definitely compensate you.” Lily looked at me with teary eyes, “Chloe…” I looked up, my gaze sweeping over the family of three before me, and slowly said, “Okay.” At my words, their eyes lit up, and smiles appeared on their faces. Dad chuckled, “I knew Chloe would be the most understa—” But I cut him off directly, calmly throwing out a question, “But I have one question: this factory that needs me to sell my house to save it, in the future, who will it go to?”

As soon as the words left my mouth, the living room fell into dead silence. Lily suddenly looked up at me, biting her lip tightly. Dad’s smile froze, momentarily speechless. The gentle, sincere expression on Mrs. Jenkins’s face completely vanished. She stared hard at me, saying nothing. In that eerie and awkward atmosphere, I smiled. My laughter was jarringly out of place. Everyone knew the answer to that question. All the family’s assets and savings were implicitly reserved for Lily. They wanted me to sell the house Grandma left me to save the family business that would eventually belong to Lily. That night, I used it as an excuse to pack my bags and move out. Before I left, Dad’s figure seemed to slump significantly. He asked me, “Chloe, you never truly forgave me, did you?” I paused for a moment. No, I never did. All these years, I’d acted indifferent, trying to fit in with this family. But all of that was just a means for me to survive. That night, I returned to Grandma’s old house. I tidied up a bit and then crashed, falling into a deep sleep. Perhaps because I had been so stressed these past few days, I slept like a log until 2 PM the next day. Just after I finished eating, the doorbell rang. It was Ethan. He actually came to make up. “Chloe, can we stop this cold war? You haven’t spoken to me in days; I can’t take it.” “Okay, okay, I admit it was my fault. I neglected you.” “How about this: after our test results come out, we’ll go on a trip. I’ll go anywhere you want, just you and me.” I looked at him with some surprise. Ethan met my gaze, his ears slightly red, “I used to think you clung to me too much, making me feel suffocated. But these past few years, with you ignoring me, I feel even worse.” I couldn’t help but frown. Ethan, lost in his own emotions, smiled and reached out to ruffle my hair, “We promised each other we’d be together forever.” I took a step back, spreading my hands. “My dad once said that to my mom too, but he cheated on her while she was pregnant.” My words were too blunt, making Ethan flinch. He instinctively retorted, “But Lily is innocent; she can’t help how she was born.” I stared at him for a long time. How could I have ever liked someone like this? I then turned and closed the door. I wouldn’t stop for unworthy people anymore. In the following days, Dad and Mrs. Jenkins still didn’t give up. Annoyed, I directly asked in the family SnapChat group—”You need money to plug the hole, so why don’t you sell all the gold jewelry at home? Why don’t you sell the cars and house? You’re just waiting to take advantage of me, aren’t you!” My words were too blunt and harsh. It caused a stir in the extended family chat. Dad, being thin-skinned, left the group that day. Mrs. Jenkins then played the victim in the group, claiming how good she had been to me, but I had never truly accepted her. Of course, doing so only made the relatives scold her even more. As for Lily, the beneficiary, she remained silent. Ethan wasn’t someone who would pester endlessly. After being treated that way last time, he also felt angry. For a long time, he didn’t appear before me again. I was happy with the peace. About half a month later, acceptance letters for college started arriving for my classmates. The class SnapChat group was lively every day. Everyone was excitedly looking forward to college life. I also received my acceptance letter—it was from Harvard University. I looked at the letter, my fingertips tracing the school name over and over, my eyes moist. Ethan, who hadn’t spoken to me in a long time, called me proactively, “Are you still mad? You should have gotten your Texas College acceptance letter by now. We’ll be going to college together, you know.” I raised an eyebrow and said, “Who told you I was going to Texas College with you?”

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After Ethan Thompson and I started dating, he blocked his ex-girlfriend, Scarlett Hayes, on all platforms. But every time she got drunk, she’d show up outside our apartment building and cause a massive scene, pounding on the door and ringing the doorbell incessantly, until he came down. As soon as the lights went out, he had to go downstairs. They were always on a collision course, clashing like rivals since their dating days, and they’d argue intensely over the smallest things, each cursing louder and fouler than the last. I had long grown used to it. But this time, the usual war of words escalated. Scarlett straddled him, her fists and kicks showing no mercy. Furious, I rushed over and pushed her away, only to receive a harsh slap in return. Just as I was about to retaliate, Ethan clamped down on my wrist. He helped Scarlett up from the ground, his eyes overflowing with concern: “Did you hurt yourself when you fell?” When he turned to me, there was only harsh criticism: “She’s had too much to drink, why would you push her?!” I stared blankly at the man who allowed another woman to cling to him and throw a drunken tantrum. Suddenly, I understood. When a man says he hates a girl he’s dated, that girl is actually the one he can’t forget.

Ethan and Scarlett had been entangled for seven years, and their breakup was anything but amicable. I had been living in Ethan’s apartment for three years, and Scarlett had been causing trouble for three years. At first, she secretly made a spare key and, when he wasn’t home, stole the dog they had raised together. Ethan spent three days tracking her down, finally retrieving the dog from a rental in the suburbs. Later, she attached a miniature device to the bottom of his car. Every time we drove out, the car’s GPS would loop the voice message of Ethan confessing his feelings to her from back in the day. After that, every time she drank, she’d come to our building and cause a huge scene, pounding on the door and ringing the doorbell incessantly, until he came down. Such was the tangled mess of their love and hate. Ethan would clench his teeth in anger every time, swearing he’d cut ties with her completely. Yet he never truly pursued any action against her. This time, I was the one who got hit. But she was clinging to him, still sobbing, her face streaked with tears. Ethan didn’t look at me. He didn’t even ask if I was hurt. He just held her patiently in his arms, comforting her in a soft, low voice: “There, there, it’s okay now. I’m here, stop crying.” “I hate you, Ethan!” Scarlett clung to him, feigning drunkenness, tearing and biting at him. Ethan was a severe germaphobe. He couldn’t stand physical contact with others. Every time I tried to kiss him, he’d turn his head. Frowning, he’d say, “Chloe, cut it out, it’s not hygienic.” But now. She wrapped her arms around his neck, her wet kisses landing on his cheek, his neck, the corner of his lips. The sounds of her wet kisses were jarring. He didn’t pull away. Even when she bit his Adam’s apple, he only let out a muffled groan and tightened his arms around her. “Chloe, don’t mind her, she’s had too much to drink.” He finally spared me a glance. “You go on back to sleep. I’ll take her home.” With that, he lifted her into his arms and turned to leave. Scarlett lay on his shoulder, her previously closed eyes suddenly opening. There was no trace of drunkenness in those eyes, only triumph. She looked over his shoulder at me, a defiant smirk playing on her lips. As if to say, “See? I won again.” I watched Ethan’s retreating figure. It was strange; he seemed to have lost his light. I had tried hard to convince myself that for a crazy woman like Scarlett, Ethan felt nothing but disgust. It wasn’t until this moment, watching him carry her away and disappear around the street corner, that I finally understood. His fondness for her was almost physiological. It would always override his reason.

That slap couldn’t be for nothing. I immediately called the police. The siren’s wail quickly pierced the quiet of the neighborhood. Scarlett sobered up instantly, lunging at me like a maniac, trying to scratch me, but the police officers handcuffed her arms behind her. She screamed as she was shoved into the patrol car. Ethan’s usually impassive face was almost contorted with panic. “It’s a complete misunderstanding! She’s my friend, she was drunk and emotionally unstable, that’s why she lashed out at me! We can sort this out at home…” The officer explained, “A victim, Ms. Chloe, reported an assault. We need to take her back to the station to verify the details.” “What victim?” Ethan whipped his head around, his gaze like an ice pick, piercing right through me. He looked like he wanted to skin me alive. “Chloe! Are you seriously going to take this that far?!” My cheek was still swollen, and I looked at him coldly. “Ethan! Save me! No!” Scarlett cried out from the car. Ethan was burning with anxiety, pounding on the car window: “Scarlett, don’t be scared! I’ll be right there!” He ignored me, started his car, and sped after the police vehicle. I went to the hospital and got a medical report for the injury. All the way, my phone vibrated frantically. When I didn’t answer, messages popped up one after another. All from Ethan, demanding answers. [Answer the phone.] [Why did you call the police? Scarlett was drunk, it wasn’t intentional, and besides, you pushed her first!] [Go to the police station right now and drop the case.] [If she gets a criminal record, her life will be ruined. Can’t you be a little kinder?] Kinder. I touched my still-throbbing cheek and made a decision in my heart. Back at Ethan’s apartment, I pulled out my suitcase. Three years, but not many personal items. I neatly folded my clothes, and threw away my used toothbrush. Finally, I opened Ethan’s laptop. I deleted the few, precious photos of us together from his cloud storage. Those were the only few photos from our three years together, proof that I hadn’t imagined this relationship. The login ID auto-filled. The page refreshed, and just as I was about to delete, I clicked on the folder named “Archive” by some strange impulse. The mouse wheel scrolled down. No end in sight. Over ten thousand photos. All of them Scarlett. Waves crashing, she ran barefoot on the beach, the camera capturing her flying hair as she looked back. Cherry blossoms like snow, she stood under a tree laughing joyfully, his hand reaching out to support her waist. In a field of flowers, he held a cake, gazing at her deeply, his eyes brighter than starlight. Their past was intimate and unrestrained. And me? Three years into our relationship, I always felt like a shadow. I used to think trust was the most important thing in a relationship. He blocked all her contact methods, hated her so much he wouldn’t even order her favorite dishes or listen to her favorite songs. That meant it was completely over. I had strong self-esteem; I wouldn’t snoop, I hadn’t even asked for his phone password. Even if his replies to my messages were always brief and cold. Even if I gave him gifts, he would always give gifts of similar value in return. I lied to myself, thinking it was his politeness and boundaries. But now, the screen displayed countless saved chat logs, like a giant spiderweb. That was their daily life back then. He’d say: [I saw a cat on the street today, it looked a lot like yours.] She’d say: [The clouds today look like marshmallows, you have to buy them for me after work.] He’d say: [My little greedy cat.] Meaningless chatter back and forth, he’d reply to all of it. Even when they fought, he’d write lengthy messages, every word carefully chosen, arguing with her endlessly. He even gave her his salary card, playfully begging her: [Babe, can I have some spending money?] I looked at those photos, those records. It felt like a dull blow to my chest. A long, sinking feeling of helplessness washed over me. It wasn’t that he didn’t understand romance, or that he was inherently cold. It was just that his passion, his indulgence, his boundless affection, he had always been stingy about sharing even an ounce of it with me. To him, I was always dispensable. That’s why, with me, he thought even arguing was a waste of time. I closed the laptop. The moment the screen went black, it reflected my pale face and swollen red eyes. My phone buzzed on the table, its screen lighting up and darkening. Ethan sent another message: [I’ll wait for you for half an hour. If you don’t come drop the case, we’re breaking up.]

The elevator doors slowly closed. I looked down at my phone screen, his threat pricking my eyes like needles. For three years, he had always been a decent boyfriend. It was only when Scarlett was involved that every argument between us felt like he became a different person. I remembered last week, he waited in line for half an hour to buy the drink I wanted. Just as he handed it to me, Scarlett appeared. She stopped us, pouting petulantly: “I want one too, Ethan. You promised you’d only ever buy drinks for one woman – me.” Without a word, he took the cup from my hand, inserted the straw, and handed it to her. I looked at my empty hand, but he casually put his arm around me: “It’s just a coffee, give it to her, or she’ll make a scene again.” In our second year of dating, I took him home for the first time. My parents prepared for three days, cooking a table full of his favorite dishes. Halfway to my place, Scarlett called, saying her car had been in an accident. He turned the car around and left. I was left alone with a table full of cold food and my parents’ awkward silence. Later, he coaxed me: “She’s never handled these things before, don’t be mad. I’ll make it up to your parents another day.” When that “another day” came, he was having dinner with my parents. His phone rang, an unknown number. He stood up to answer it, speaking into the screen with extreme impatience: “Scarlett, are you done yet? What is it now?” My mom’s hand, holding a dish, froze in mid-air, and my dad put down his wine glass. After he hung up, I quietly reminded him that it wasn’t very polite. He frowned, stating matter-of-factly: “If I don’t answer, she won’t stop. Your family won’t mind this.” Our biggest argument erupted when I had acute appendicitis. I was about to go into surgery, when Scarlett called, drunkenly screaming, “If you don’t come in ten minutes, I’m ordering three male escorts.” He hesitated for three seconds, then chose her. When I woke up, he was standing by my hospital bed, looking exhausted, with blood marks from her scratches still on his neck. He explained: “She was drunk, I was afraid she’d do something she’d regret.” “You’re fine now, aren’t you? I’ll take time off to take care of you for the next few days.” They say a good ex should be like they’re dead. But his ex was everywhere. Like air, like a virus. Every time, he’d say dismissively: “I’m annoyed too, what can I do?” Making me feel like I was the petty, unreasonable villain. The elevator descended, the numbers constantly changing. I sent Ethan one last message. [Okay, let’s break up.]

No matter what Ethan sent me next, I firmly refused to reply. Of course, I didn’t go to drop the case. But the next morning, a call woke me up. Through the receiver, Scarlett’s voice was triumphant, almost floating. “Chloe, so what if you called the police? Ethan still couldn’t bear to see me suffer!” “He contacted his dad last night and bailed me out.” I instantly sobered up. Ethan and his estranged father, who had abandoned his family, hadn’t spoken in over a decade. It was the deepest scar on his heart. Now, for Scarlett, for a mere 48-hour detention, he had humbled himself to beg that man. Seeing my silence, her laughter grew even more jarring. “Doesn’t that count as Ethan publicly slapping you in the face?” “So what if you’re his girlfriend? His first choice, the one he loves, will always be me.” I hung up the phone, and the screen lit up. It was a screenshot of Scarlett’s Ins story. That private list, visible only to three people, was once filled with her presence. When he was with her, he updated it daily. Sweet moments, arguments, making up—all updated. But for me, he had never officially announced my existence, saying only that showing affection on social media was childish. For every one of their anniversaries, he would meticulously prepare surprises. Because he was afraid “my little princess wouldn’t be happy, and would cause a scene again.” Yet for our three anniversaries, he was absent due to Scarlett’s various dramas. I once tried acting out like Scarlett. He frowned impatiently: “Chloe, I broke up with her precisely because I was tired of her capriciousness. Are you going to be like that too?” I loved him too much, so I could only swallow my grievances and back down. At noon, the lock turned. Ethan came in, carrying a large bouquet of champagne roses. Seeing the unpacked suitcase in the hallway, he smiled helplessly. “Baby, yesterday was my fault. I spoke out of turn.” He walked closer to me, his tone indulgent as he explained. “I didn’t mean to favor her. You know her personality; I was worried she’d keep causing trouble if you hit her back.” “You’re usually so gentle, you’d get the short end of the stick in a fight.” I looked at him, feeling both absurd and amused. My 6’1″, eight-pack-abs boyfriend was right there. But I still took a slap for nothing, didn’t I? “So, you sought out the person you despise the most, to bail her out?” At the mention of that man, Ethan’s expression hardened. “If you hadn’t insisted on making such a big deal out of it, would I have gone to beg him?” “Scarlett’s mom and my mom are best friends, we grew up together. Now my girlfriend put her in a police station, how are our families going to interact in the future? What will my mom think of you?!” “I used to think you were sensible, but this time, you just acted so recklessly.” He kept talking. “Chloe, does it make sense for you to always be jealous because of her? That’s just her personality, you know I’ve blocked her, what else can I do?” Listening to his string of accusations, my heart grew colder. Yes, he had blocked all her contact information. But he never missed a call from those unknown numbers. “You should go.” I heard myself say. “I agree to break up.” “I already said I was impulsive and spoke wrong. Can’t you just let it go?” He tugged irritably at his collar. “Chloe, I’ve told you many times, I will never get back with Scarlett. Her temper is too fiery, we simply can’t make it work.” Saying this, he took a velvet box from his pocket and opened it. Inside was the diamond ring we had custom-made together. “Once we’re married, she’ll finally give up and stop bothering us.” “From the day I started dating you three years ago, I knew you were the perfect wife for me.” I looked at the diamond ring I had dreamed of so many times. Now, the light it reflected was no longer dazzling, only blinding. He said so many words about “suitable,” “wife,” and “stability,” but he never once mentioned love. The refusal was on my lips when my phone rang at an inconvenient moment. It was my mom. Her voice was excited and relieved. “Ethan just brought so many gifts to the house, and he and your dad set the engagement date. This weekend sounds good.” I was stunned, instinctively refusing: “Mom, I don’t want to, it’s too rushed…” “You child, you’ve been together for three years, it’s time to move forward. What more could you want from a good man like him?” Mom’s rambling faded as she hung up. Ethan hugged me from behind, resting his chin on the top of my head. “Your mom is very happy about our engagement.” His voice was coaxing: “She just slapped you, right? I’ll let you hit me back for her, as much as you want, okay?” “Let’s not quarrel over such a small thing.” I remembered my mom, just a while ago, wiping away tears and holding my hand when she found out she needed heart surgery: “Mom’s biggest worry is that no one will take care of you.” I stood there blankly, letting him slide the ring onto my ring finger. Like a beautiful set of shackles.

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Julian Thorne’s first love was back. He not only settled her in the most secluded mansion in the hills overlooking New York, but he also played the piano for her. That very piano he had sworn he would never touch again. As he indulged her, letting her drink from his personal mug, I suddenly understood. He wasn’t born cold-hearted. He just wasn’t warm to me. Today was our fifth wedding anniversary. I had canceled all my appointments and spent the day cooking all his favorite dishes. At eight that evening, Julian called. His voice was as distant and cool as ever. “There’s an urgent merger and acquisition deal at the office. I won’t be home tonight. You should get some sleep.” He had chronic stomach issues, relying on medication to manage it. I poured the warm soup, which I had kept simmering on the stove, into an insulated container and drove to Thorne Corp. The lights in his executive office were off. The assistant on duty saw me, his eyes darting away, stammering, unable to offer any coherent explanation. I didn’t press him. I turned and went downstairs, pulling up Julian’s car’s GPS location. The red dot was stationary at a hillside estate outside New York. It was one of Julian’s private properties, one I’d never even visited. The night wind was chilly. It took half an hour of driving winding roads to reach the destination. The villa’s front gate was ajar, spilling warm yellow light. I pushed the door open, walked through the entryway, and the scene in the living room hit me, completely unprepared. In front of the massive floor-to-ceiling windows stood a black Steinway grand piano. Julian sat on the piano bench, his long fingers dancing across the black and white keys, producing a light, gentle melody. I froze. His right hand had been injured, once making it difficult even to hold a pen. I’d spent a full year seeking out top doctors, massaging his hand with warm towels every night, painstakingly helping him with physical therapy. He recovered, but afterwards, he refused to touch the piano again. “Audrey,” he’d said, “my hand hurts. I won’t play anymore.” My heart ached for him, so I had the piano at home moved out and never brought it up again. But now, his hand didn’t seem to hurt at all. Because the woman sitting beside him was watching him, a radiant smile on her face. Serena Bell wore a silk slip dress, leaning lazily against the edge of the piano. She casually picked up a glass of water from the piano and took a sip. It was Julian’s mug. He was an extreme germaphobe, with territorial instincts that bordered on obsessive. At home, if I accidentally used his cutlery, he would toss it directly into the trash. Yet at this moment, not only was he not angry, but he stopped playing, naturally lifted his hand, and gently wiped the water from Serena’s lip with his thumb. “Drink slowly. No one is going to snatch it from you.” His voice was incredibly soft, filled with a level of indulgence and affection I had never heard directed at me. The scene was blinding, stinging my eyes. Julian and I had been married for five years. He was always polite, distant, and restrained with me. I thought he was just that kind of person, like a block of ice that couldn’t be melted. I believed that with enough patience, I could eventually warm him. Now it seemed the ice had long melted, but it had turned into water in someone else’s mug. I took a deep breath, raised my hand, and knocked twice on the open doorframe. “Excuse me.” The piano music stopped abruptly. The two people near the sofa turned to look at me simultaneously. Serena gasped, flinching back like a startled fawn. Julian’s face instantly darkened. He instinctively stood up, shielding Serena behind him. That protective posture, so practiced, sent a chill through me. “How did you find this place?” He frowned, his tone full of accusation and displeasure. I walked in, carrying the insulated container, and placed it on the coffee table. “I came to bring you your stomach medicine. But it seems, Mr. Thorne, your appetite is doing quite well right now; you don’t need this.” Julian’s gaze swept over the container, a flicker of discomfort in his eyes, but it quickly returned to cold rigidity. “Company matters finished early. Serena just got back to the country and is a bit unstable emotionally. I came to check on her.” “Emotionally unstable?” I tugged at the corner of my mouth, my gaze moving past him to Serena. “Does it require drinking from the same mug to cure? Which hospital prescribes that kind of remedy? I’d love to learn.” Serena bit her lower lip, her eyes instantly welling up. “Audrey, please don’t misunderstand. I was just thirsty and didn’t realize I grabbed the wrong mug. There’s nothing going on between Julian and me; it’s completely innocent.” Her aggrieved, innocent act made me look like an irrational shrew. I let out a cold laugh. “Completely innocent? A man and a woman, alone in a secluded villa late at night, playing piano and sharing drinks? You call that innocent? Ms. Bell, your definition of ‘innocent’ seems a little too flexible.” “Audrey Hayes!” Julian cut me off sharply. “Watch your tone. Serena has severe depression and can’t handle stress.” “She can’t handle stress, but I can?” I met Julian’s eyes, asking each word distinctly. “Today is our fifth wedding anniversary. You lied to me, saying you were working late at the office, only to be here playing therapist for her?” Julian was silent for two seconds, then softened his tone slightly. “It’s just an anniversary. We can celebrate later. Go home first; don’t make a scene here.” A scene? In his eyes, my coming to find my husband was “making a scene.” I looked at the piano, and suddenly felt an overwhelming sense of absurdity. “Your hand wasn’t able to play the piano anymore, was it?” Julian’s body stiffened, his fingers at his side curling slightly. “Understood.” I nodded, then swept the insulated container directly into the nearby trash can. With a dull thud, the soup spilled all over the floor. “It wasn’t that you couldn’t play; it’s that you didn’t want to play for me. Julian Thorne, you disgust me.” With that, I turned and walked away. Julian strode after me, grabbing my wrist. His grip was strong, squeezing my bones painfully. “What’s wrong with you?” he growled, suppressing his anger. I violently shook off his hand, stepping back in disgust. “Don’t touch me. You’re dirty.”

I walked out of the villa without looking back. The mountain wind blew against me, carrying the chill of late autumn, instantly piercing my thin coat. I pulled open the car door and got in, gripping the steering wheel so tightly my knuckles turned white. My stomach churned. I pushed the car door open and squatted by the roadside, dry heaving. Nothing came up but bitter stomach acid burning my throat. Five years of marriage, over eighteen hundred days and nights, had turned into a complete joke tonight. I’d always thought Julian was an emotionless person. He didn’t laugh loudly, didn’t get angry, and even in bed, he maintained a precise rhythm and restraint. I tolerated his aloofness, grew accustomed to his rules, and even changed my style of dress and daily habits to cater to his preferences. I believed this was our way of being together. It wasn’t until tonight that I saw a vibrant side of him. He would lie for a woman, play the piano for her, and glare at me because of a single tear from her. The difference between love and indifference was so stark. I didn’t return to the house filled with Julian’s presence. Instead, I drove to my small, older apartment, a bit run-down, that I’d bought in college. It wasn’t large, but every piece of furniture was hand-picked by me, filling it with a cozy and lived-in vibe. As I opened the door, the scent of dust greeted me. I didn’t even turn on the lights, collapsing onto the sofa fully clothed, my eyes open until dawn. The next morning, the sound of the lock turning echoed through the apartment. Julian walked in. He was wearing the same custom-tailored suit from yesterday, the creases still in the same place; clearly, he hadn’t slept at home. He carried a cake from my favorite bakery in the South End, his expression normal as he walked to the dining table and set it down. “Get up and eat something.” His tone was so calm, as if nothing had happened last night. I sat up, watching him coldly. “How did you get in?” “The password hasn’t changed, so of course, I could get in.” Julian unbuttoned his suit jacket, sat on the single armchair, and frowned slightly. “I can explain what happened last night.” “No need,” I interrupted him. “I don’t want to hear it.” Julian’s face hardened a few shades. “Audrey Hayes, can’t you stop being so stubborn? Serena went through something overseas years ago; she has severe psychological trauma. She has no family or friends in this city. As a friend, it’s perfectly reasonable for me to look after her.” “Friend?” I chewed on the word, finding it utterly ridiculous. “What kind of friend needs you to lie to your wife in the middle of the night to spend time with them? What kind of friend gets to drink from your mug? Julian, do you take me for a fool?” “I already said, it was an accident!” His voice rose, tinged with irritation. “Do you have to cling to this trivial matter?” Trivial matter. In his eyes, deception and betrayal were just “trivial matters.” I suddenly felt exhausted, lacking the energy even to argue. “Say whatever you want,” I stood up, walked to the window, and pulled back the curtains, letting the glaring sunlight stream in. “Julian, let’s get a divorce.” The room fell into an instant, heavy silence. Julian stared at me, his gaze gradually turning sharp and icy. “What did you say?” “I said, divorce.” I turned to face him, calmly meeting his eyes. “Let’s end things amicably before it gets too ugly.” Julian abruptly stood up, his tall frame looming over me with an oppressive presence. “Audrey Hayes, don’t throw around the word ‘divorce.’ It’s not funny.” “I’m not joking.” I looked at his tense jawline. “I’ll grant you your freedom. You can openly care for your severely depressed patient without needing to make excuses to lie to me anymore.” “Impossible!” Julian gritted his teeth. He grabbed my shoulders, his grip so tight it felt like he might crush my bones. “You want to divorce me over this misunderstanding? Audrey Hayes, what kind of tantrum are you throwing?” I forcefully broke free from his grasp, stepping back two paces to create distance. “Misunderstanding? Julian, can you look me in the eye and say you only have platonic feelings for Serena Bell?” His thin lips were pressed tight; he said nothing. Silence was the best answer. I managed a sarcastic laugh. “See? You can’t even be bothered to lie to me anymore. If your heart belongs to someone else, why keep me tied to your side? Let me go, and let yourself go.” “I said, divorce is not an option.” Julian took a deep breath, forcing down his anger. “Stay here for a while to cool down. I’ll come pick you up when you’ve thought things through.” With that, he turned and strode out, his retreating figure exuding an undeniable forcefulness. The loud bang of the door closing plunged the room back into silence. I looked at the cake on the table and unhesitatingly threw it into the trash. Cool down? I was perfectly calm. Calmer than any moment in the past five years.

The silent treatment had officially begun. I didn’t return to the villa, and Julian didn’t come looking for me again. He probably assumed that if he just ignored me for a few days, I’d be the one to back down and make peace, dutifully returning to his side, just like before. After all, for five years, I was always the one to compromise first. But not this time. I poured all my energy into my company. Apex Tech, a startup, was founded by me and a few seniors after college. Years ago, our funding dried up, and we were on the brink of bankruptcy. It was Julian who stepped in with an investment, bringing the company back from the dead. Now, Apex Tech was back on track and preparing for a new round of financing. I was swamped with work every day, trying to numb myself with endless tasks. Until Friday afternoon, when my assistant, Sarah, knocked on my office door. “Ms. Hayes, have you seen the news?” Sarah handed me her tablet, her expression complicated. The screen displayed an entertainment gossip headline. “Thorne Corp. CEO Splurges on ‘Tears of the Ocean’ for a Mystery Woman.” The accompanying image was a blurred profile shot. Julian, dressed in a custom black tuxedo, was leaning down to fasten a sparkling sapphire necklace around the woman’s neck. I’d recognize that woman’s figure anywhere. It was Serena Bell. And that “Tears of the Ocean” necklace was an exhibit I’d looked at for a moment too long at a gala Julian and I attended last month. I’d casually remarked that it was beautiful. Julian, however, had coolly commented, “It’s too flashy. It doesn’t suit you.” It wasn’t that it didn’t suit me; it was that it didn’t suit him to buy it for me. Now, that flashy necklace adorned the neck of his long-cherished first love. “Ms. Hayes, this…” Sarah looked at me cautiously. “It’s fine. You can go.” I pushed the tablet back, my voice so calm it surprised even myself. Did it hurt? It felt like the pain had numbed me. I opened my laptop, pulled up a divorce agreement I’d drafted long ago, filled in the date, and printed two copies. If he wouldn’t end things amicably, I’d make him. At 3 PM, I took the agreement to Thorne Corp. This time, I wasn’t stopped downstairs. The receptionist respectfully called me “Mrs. Thorne” and let me pass directly. I pushed open the door to the executive office. Julian was listening to an executive report. Seeing me enter, he raised a hand, signaling the executive to leave. Only the two of us remained in the office. Julian leaned back in his chair, his gaze fixed on my face, seemingly assessing my state over the past few days. “Have you come to your senses?” he asked nonchalantly, his tone carrying an arrogant certainty that he was in control. I walked to his desk and slapped the divorce agreement down in front of him. “Sign it. Let’s get a divorce.” Julian’s gaze landed on the bold black letters “DIVORCE AGREEMENT,” and his face instantly darkened. Without even looking at the contents, he picked it up and tore it in half right in front of me. “I told you, no divorce.” The shredded paper was casually tossed into the wastebasket. I expressionlessly opened my bag, took out another copy, and placed it before him. “It’s alright. I printed plenty.” Julian’s eye twitched, and he tore it up again. I kept taking them out. He kept tearing them. Until I produced the twelfth copy of the agreement. Julian finally lost his patience, abruptly stood up, braced his hands on the desk, and glared at me. “Audrey Hayes, are you ever going to stop? It’s just a necklace; do you really need to make such a scene?” “A necklace?” I laughed. “Julian, do you really think if you toss me a crumb of your patience, I should be grateful and continue being your perfect wife? You use my affection to fawn over another woman, and you expect me to applaud magnanimously?” “I bought that necklace because Serena needs it for an important gala she’s attending! She needs to make a good impression!” “She needs to make a good impression, so you use something I admire to boost her image?” I met his gaze without backing down. “Julian, stop making excuses for your favoritism. Just sign it. It’ll be better for everyone.” Julian clenched his jaw tightly, his chest heaving. He looked at my resolute eyes, seemingly finally realizing that I wasn’t playing hard to get. I followed him, neither of us speaking, as we drove separately to the courthouse. There weren’t many people applying for divorce in the afternoon. Soon, it was our turn. The clerk checked our documents and, as per routine, asked, “Irreconcilable differences, confirm you want to divorce?” “Confirmed,” I answered without hesitation. The clerk turned to Julian. “And you, sir? Are you sure?” Julian sat in the chair, his jaw as rigid as iron. He stared at the divorce petition in front of him, his pen hovering, never quite touching the paper. Time ticked by, second by second. The clerk grew a bit impatient. “Sir, if you haven’t made up your mind, you can always go back and reconsider.” Julian suddenly flung his pen down and abruptly stood up. The chair scraped against the floor with a harsh sound. “I won’t divorce.” He dropped those three cold words, then turned and walked out.

I froze for a second, then rage shot through me. “Julian, what game are you playing!” I grabbed my bag and chased after him, blocking his path. “Are you insane? You signed the papers, you brought me here, and now, at the finish line, you’re backing out?” Julian looked down at me, his eyes as deep and lifeless as stagnant water. “I changed my mind. Is that not allowed?” His righteous attitude made me laugh in anger. “Why? If you care about Serena so much, why won’t you divorce me to make room for her? Keeping me as your legal wife, forcing her to be a mistress in the shadows her whole life. Is that your love for her?” “Shut up.” Julian roared, a vein throbbing faintly on his temple. “Serena and I don’t have that kind of relationship. I promised to take care of you for life, and I won’t break my word. The position of Mrs. Thorne can only be yours.” Take care of me for life? That declaration, which once moved me to tears, now sounded utterly chilling. “Your ‘care’ is treating me like a trophy wife, then pouring all your emotions and energy into another woman?” I looked at him coldly. “Julian, I don’t need your pity. I’m divorcing you, no matter what.” I didn’t bother with him anymore, turning to walk towards my car. Since an amicable divorce wasn’t possible, I would have to sue. The next morning, I went straight to my lawyer and filed a divorce petition with the court. I thought this would be a long, drawn-out battle. But I underestimated Julian’s methods, and I overestimated my own leverage. On the third day after filing the lawsuit, Apex Tech ran into trouble. The company’s largest supplier suddenly announced a unilateral termination of our contract. Immediately after, two investment firms that had agreed to fund us simultaneously pulled out, and even the bank froze our loan facility. In just one day, the company’s funding completely dried up. My partners were frantic, calling me one after another. “Ms. Hayes, what’s going on? The supplier is even willing to pay the breach of contract penalty; they’re determined to cut ties with us!” “The investors said they received a ‘message from above’ and couldn’t fund us anymore.” I sat in my office, looking at the continually flashing red numbers on my computer screen, feeling a chill run through me. In this industry, only one person had such immense power and could precisely squeeze Apex Tech’s lifeline. Julian. He didn’t even bother to conceal his actions, openly telling me: he could crush me as easily as an ant. I grabbed my car keys and sped all the way to Thorne Corp. This time, I didn’t knock; I pushed open the door to the executive office directly. Julian was sitting behind his large desk, a cup of coffee in his hand, casually reading a document. Seeing me rush in, out of breath, he didn’t even lift an eyelid. “Julian, you’re despicable!” I charged to his desk, slamming my hands on the surface. “How dare you mess with my company?” Julian put down his coffee cup, leaned back slightly, and looked at me calmly. “I merely reclaimed the resources I once provided. You know perfectly well whose help Apex Tech owes its success to.” His voice was devoid of emotion, yet every word stung. Yes, Apex Tech had survived back then because of Thorne Corp.’s investment. Over the years, many partners had given us preferential treatment out of respect for Julian. I thought my career was something I had built through my own hard work and struggle, but it had always been under his wing. He could take it all back at any time. “What do you want?” I asked, gritting my teeth. “Withdraw the lawsuit,” Julian said, his long fingers lightly tapping the desk. “Then move back home. As long as you’re obedient, Apex Tech will be back to normal tomorrow.” He looked at me as if I were a pet throwing a tantrum. Cut off my food supply, and I’d surely return to my cage. I glared at him, my fingernails digging deep into my palms, using the pain to maintain the last shred of my sanity. “What if I don’t?” Julian let out a faint laugh, but his eyes were chillingly cold. “Then Apex Tech won’t survive this week. Your partners, those seniors who started the company with you, will be saddled with massive debts and never recover. Audrey Hayes, can you bear to drag them down with you?” He knew me too well. He knew I was loyal, knew I couldn’t sacrifice others’ hard work for my own marital problems. He had me completely trapped. My chest felt like it was stuffed with waterlogged cotton, making it hard to breathe. I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and when I opened them again, only the dead calm of compromise remained. “Fine, I’ll withdraw the lawsuit,” I heard my voice, hoarse and unfamiliar. “I’ll move back today.” A flicker of satisfaction crossed Julian’s eyes. “That’s better, isn’t it?” He stood up, walked over to me, and reached out to touch my hair. I turned my head, avoiding his touch. His hand froze in mid-air, his face slightly darkened. “Don’t touch me,” I said coldly. “Julian, you won. But I’m telling you, you’ve only kept a shell.”

I moved back into the hillside villa. The moment I stepped through the front door, that suffocating sense of oppression washed over me again. The piano in the living room was still in its original spot, silently mocking my helplessness. I didn’t take my luggage into the master bedroom. Instead, I walked directly to the most secluded guest room on the first floor. Julian followed me. Seeing my actions, his brows immediately furrowed. “What are you doing?” “Sleeping,” I pushed my suitcase into a corner, then turned to face him. “Mr. Thorne, you only asked me to move back; you didn’t specify which bed I had to sleep in, did you?” Julian’s face was so dark it looked like it could drip ink. He strode over, grabbed my wrist, and tried to pull me out. “Go back to the master bedroom! What would it look like if a married couple slept in separate rooms?” “Is there any dignity left between us?” I struggled against his grip, glaring at him coldly. “That bed is full of your disgusting lies; I find it repulsive. If you’re unhappy, you’re welcome to bankrupt Apex Tech right now!” Julian’s actions froze. He looked at the undisguised disgust and resolve in my eyes, his jawline clenched to the extreme. They stood there, locked in a stalemate, for a full minute. Finally, he roughly flung my hand away and scoffed. “Suit yourself.” He turned and strode off, his retreating back radiating furious irritation. I locked the guest room door, then slid down the doorframe, collapsing onto the floor, completely drained. First round, I had lost completely. But I knew this was only a temporary compromise. Over the next few days, Julian and I lived under the same roof but existed in two separate worlds. I left early and returned late, trying to avoid him. When we occasionally met in the dining room, I treated him as if he were thin air, not even sparing him a glance. Julian tried to mend things in his usual condescending way. He would have his assistant send expensive jewelry, have the kitchen prepare my favorite dishes, and even knock on the guest room door at night. But my response was always a locked door and icy silence. He was accustomed to my obedience. Faced with my unyielding attitude, his patience was rapidly running out. And I wasn’t idle either. I returned to the company and called a meeting with a few key partners. “I plan to bring in new investment firms, dilute Thorne Corp.’s shares, and gradually strip Thorne Corp. of its control over Apex Tech.” I pushed a detailed financing plan in front of them. The conference room fell silent. The partners exchanged glances; no one reached for the plan. “Audrey,” Michael, the eldest senior, rubbed his hands, looking troubled, “actually, Mr. Thorne has already reinstated the cooperation, and the funds are in place. To provoke him now would be too risky.” “That’s right,” another partner chimed in. “Thorne Corp.’s resources are unparalleled. Besides, husband and wife make up in bed. Since Mr. Thorne is willing to compromise, you shouldn’t be too stubborn.” I looked at their evasive eyes, a wave of sadness washing over me. “He’s not compromising; he’s using you to threaten me.” I took a deep breath, trying to make them understand the gravity of the situation. “As long as Thorne Corp. is involved, Apex Tech will always be his puppet. Today he can cut off our funding; tomorrow he can kick us out!” “It’s not that serious, is it?” Michael forced a dry laugh. “What man doesn’t have a few flings? Mr. Thorne is just playing around. As long as he hasn’t committed a cardinal sin, you can just turn a blind eye. It’s not worth jeopardizing the company over this.” Turn a blind eye. So, in their eyes, my dignity and boundaries were worthless in the face of profit. I looked at this group of comrades who had once stayed up all night coding with me, eaten instant noodles, and vowed to build a great business. Suddenly, they felt utterly foreign. Our paths diverged. I retrieved the plan and stood up. “Since we disagree, I won’t force it.” I looked at them calmly. “I will sell all my shares and withdraw from Apex Tech.” The conference room instantly erupted. “Audrey, are you crazy? This is your life’s work!” “If you leave, what will happen to the company?” I ignored their pleas and accusations, turning to walk out of the conference room. What if it was my life’s work? If this hard-earned achievement became the shackles Julian used to trap me, I’d rather destroy it with my own hands. I would sever all ties to him, leaving him completely and cleanly.

Once the decision to leave Apex Tech was made, I acted quickly. I didn’t contact any industry magnates who had connections with Julian. Instead, I secretly reached out to several out-of-state venture capital firms and competitors. My shares were tempting, but taking them on meant potentially offending Julian, so negotiations were not smooth. To expedite the sale, I proactively lowered the price, seeking only a swift resolution. Half a month later, I finally reached an agreement with a conglomerate from Hong Kong. On the day of signing, the Hong Kong representative looked at me, somewhat puzzled. “Ms. Hayes, Apex Tech’s momentum is excellent right now. You’re cashing out at this price, which is a significant loss.” I signed my name, capped my pen, and smiled faintly. “Some things are more important than money.” Like freedom, like a bottom line that could no longer be manipulated. The moment the funds were transferred, I let out a long sigh of relief. I returned to Apex Tech one last time, placing the share transfer agreement in front of my partners. They looked at the official seals on the document, their faces turning pale. “Audrey Hayes, you actually sold your shares? You sold us out to outsiders!” Michael, the senior partner, angrily pointed at me. “I gave you a choice; you chose Julian,” I said, calmly looking at their angry faces. “Now I’m out. You can rest easy clinging to Thorne Corp.’s leg. I wish you all the best.” I didn’t take a single thing from the company, only my personal laptop. Stepping out of the office building, the sunlight was a bit dazzling. I glanced back at the “Apex Tech” logo atop the building, feeling no regret, only liberation. Now, between Julian and me, only a marriage certificate remained. I found a quiet coffee shop, preparing to call my lawyer to restart the divorce proceedings. Just as my coffee arrived, the chair opposite me was pulled out. A pungent scent of perfume wafted over. I looked up and saw Serena Bell. Today she was dressed in a Chanel haute couture suit, her makeup flawless, completely devoid of the helpless, depressed patient appearance she’d worn that night. “Audrey Hayes, you certainly have a lot of free time on your hands,” Serena said, taking off her sunglasses, looking down at me with blatant provocation in her eyes. I took a sip of my coffee, not even sparing her a direct glance. “Ms. Bell, what can I do for you? If you’re here to discuss your condition, there’s a psychiatric hospital around the corner to your left; it’s more suitable for you.” Serena’s face stiffened for a moment, then she let out a cold laugh. “You don’t need to be so sharp-tongued with me. I came here today to ask you, when exactly are you going to divorce Julian? Don’t you feel ashamed monopolizing the position of Mrs. Thorne?” I put down my coffee cup and looked at her with interest. “No, I don’t feel ashamed. After all, I’m legitimate, protected by law. As for you, running here in broad daylight to make demands, what’s wrong? Did Julian not satisfy you last night, leaving you feeling frustrated?” “You!” Serena’s chest heaved with anger, and she gritted her teeth. “Julian spent the whole night with me! He doesn’t love you at all, so why are you clinging to him so shamelessly?” “Is that so?” I chuckled lightly, my tone full of mockery. “Then you’d better try harder to get him to sign the divorce papers soon, instead of just sitting on it. After all, he’s the one who refused to sign, even threatening my company to make me move back. If you’ve got the guts, get him to come to court with me today.” Serena’s face turned from green to pale as I hit a nerve. She glared at me, then suddenly started laughing, her smile twisted with a cruel triumph. “Audrey Hayes, you’re truly pathetic. Do you really think Julian won’t divorce you because he can’t bear to let you go?” She leaned forward, lowering her voice. “Do you really think a privileged golden boy like him would take an interest in an orphan like you, who had nothing? Do you think your meeting, his salvation of you back then, were all mere coincidences?” I frowned slightly, a bad premonition rising in my gut. “What do you mean?” Serena looked at me, her eyes glinting with malice. “Want to know? Then beg me.” I looked at her smug, petty face, and my disgust reached its peak. “If you don’t want to say, then don’t. It’ll just choke you.” I stood up, picked up my bag, and prepared to leave. “Audrey Hayes, stop right there!” Serena cried out, scrambling up to block me. “Don’t you want to know how your brother, Ryan Hayes, really died?” At the mention of that name, my steps froze. My blood seemed to turn to ice.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “419000”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster

For five years, I was with Scarlett. Her latest movie became a blockbuster, raking in hundreds of millions at the box office. I used my five years of savings to secretly order an engagement ring, believing that the day we’d finally start a family was just around the corner. But the night before the wedding, she leaned back on the couch and casually dropped the bomb. “The inspiration for this movie was Ethan, my first love.” “Back then, I was afraid he’d have to endure hardships with me, so I sent him abroad.” “And you, you were just a stand-in.” My hand, which was ironing my shirt, froze. “Why are you telling me this today?” Her tone was as nonchalant as if she were discussing dinner, so entitled it was absurd. “Ethan has suffered a lot abroad over the years. I want to make it up to him, so I already married him yesterday. But don’t worry, I’ll divorce him in a year, and then I’ll definitely marry you.” “I haven’t treated you badly all these years. I’ve taken care of you, supported you. You haven’t lost out.” It was as if she thought giving me a hidden, unofficial position was some grand favor.

I stood there, motionless for a long time. I didn’t even notice my arm getting burned until the skin blistered. It was Scarlett who frowned, pulled me to the couch, and applied medicine. Her voice was full of concern, as if she hadn’t just said those words. “How can you be so clumsy? You can even hurt yourself ironing clothes.” I got injured often over the past five years. Scarlett had done this many times. Each time, a warmth spread through my chest. Only this time, my chest felt heavy, as if something was lodged there. I pulled my arm back, my voice low. “Scarlett, don’t you find it pointless, living with a fake for five years?” Scarlett’s face darkened. “Alex, don’t talk about yourself like that.” She was too calm. I couldn’t help but smash the first-aid kit. “Didn’t you turn me into this?!” My chest heaved uncontrollably. Scarlett sighed, gathered the scattered medicines, and spoke softly. “I know it’s hard for you to accept right now, but we’ve been together for five years. There’s no need to deny everything over such a small matter.” As she spoke, Scarlett reached out to touch my shoulder. I moved aside, avoiding her. Suddenly, I felt like I was back on the day she confessed to me. My mom had a heart attack and was hospitalized. To earn money, I worked as a server at a club. One accidental spill soaked the guest’s shoes, and the people behind them started jeering. “Designer shoes! So, handsome, are you going to pay up, or spend a few nights with Tiffany?” “I recommend the latter, it’s a better deal.” “Yeah, Tiffany has high standards.” I clutched the tray, caught between a rock and a hard place. That’s when Scarlett appeared. Seeing me, she paused for a moment, then came to my rescue. “Didn’t you say this was for my birthday? Come on in, don’t bother him.” She was a close friend of Tiffany’s, so no one dared to say anything when she intervened. The group left. Before long, someone brought me a band-aid. It was Scarlett’s doing. After that, I often saw Scarlett at the club. She’d watch where I went, and she’d have her friends order from me. One evening, a few drunk guests blocked her in the hallway, making crude comments. She ignored them, her face cold, but one of them reached out to grab her purse. My blood boiled, and I grabbed a bottle nearby, smashing it. The scene descended into chaos. I was surrounded and kicked several times. Eventually, security rushed in and pulled everyone apart. I leaned against the wall to stand, blood oozing from the corner of my mouth, my back covered in bruises. Scarlett pulled me into the break room, got a first-aid kit, and treated my wounds. Her movements were gentle, and she didn’t speak for a long time. Finally, she asked in a low voice, “Why are you so good to me?” I leaned back in the chair, wincing from the pain, and casually replied, “If you don’t know how to repay me, how about you just give yourself to me?” Scarlett stopped what she was doing, looking up at me. “Alex, I’m serious.” “Will you be my boyfriend?” It would be a lie to say I wasn’t moved. Because of that, all these years, I’d always felt Scarlett was a stroke of luck from above. I never imagined it was all a deception from the very beginning. I turned my head away, not looking at her, my voice unusually firm. “Scarlett, let’s break up.”

As soon as the words left my mouth, Scarlett’s phone rang. She glanced at it, her tone casual, as if she didn’t care at all. “I’ll just assume you’re angry and speaking out of emotion. As long as you’re good this year, you won’t miss out on what’s yours.” “I’m going to Ethan’s welcome party first. You stay home and think about it.” The moment the door closed, I smashed the only photo I had with Scarlett. My phone suddenly lit up, grabbing my attention. It was a link from my friend. Scarlett’s book had become popular, bringing her into the public eye. These past few days, he’d sent me plenty of videos related to Scarlett. But this time, seeing his text, I froze for a moment. [Your early photos with Scarlett have been dug up.] In fact, Scarlett had never publicly acknowledged my existence. Whenever I brought it up, she’d use the excuse of not wanting her private life to be overly scrutinized. Because of this, I had been with Scarlett for five years without any official status. Even though I already had a suspicion, when I clicked on the link, my heart felt a sharp prick. The link contained a Google Maps screenshot from five years ago. And the main characters in the picture were Scarlett and “me.” The same height, similar backs. If I hadn’t learned the truth about being a stand-in today. I might have thought I’d lost a memory. But Scarlett would never squat down to tie my shoelaces. In the five years we were together, Scarlett and I did everything couples do. Except for her bending down to tie my shoelaces. I can’t count how many times I wanted Scarlett to tie them for me. But each time, it was fruitless. Even when my stomach pain made my face turn pale, Scarlett was indifferent to my request to tie my shoes. What I got was annoyance. “I don’t like tying people’s shoelaces. Can you please stop forcing me?” I remember that day, I didn’t speak all evening. Later, Scarlett tried to coax me for a long time. I thought I had forgotten, but three years later, that memory was still vivid. So vivid that seeing that scene, my chest felt like it was crushed by a heavy stone. So it wasn’t that she didn’t like to, it was just that the person wasn’t me.

I don’t know how long I stared at that photo. It wasn’t until Scarlett came in with a drunken Ethan that I snapped back to reality. Seeing me still awake, Scarlett paused, then explained. “Ethan’s drunk, and he lives alone, so there’s no one to take care of him.” I should have exploded in anger. But I knew clearly, it was useless. Scarlett didn’t love me. Thinking this, I moved aside to let Scarlett pass. Scarlett raised an eyebrow in surprise. “Good, it seems you’ve thought it through. I haven’t treated you badly, after all.” “Besides, if you leave me, you won’t be able to afford your mom’s medical expenses.” I didn’t reply, letting Scarlett help Ethan upstairs. I also deliberately ignored the faint smirk on Ethan’s lips as he looked at me. It was only when I returned to the bedroom and saw the clothes Ethan was wearing that I clenched my fists. I rushed forward, wanting to tear the clothes off him. The moment I touched Ethan, he cried out, “Ah, you’re hurting me!” The next second, Scarlett, coming out of the bathroom, shoved me away. The force was too much, and I hit the corner of the table. In my ear was Scarlett’s accusation, “Alex, are you out of your mind?!” I braced myself against the table corner and stood up straight, responding for once. “Shouldn’t you be asking yourself that?!” “You know this jacket was handmade by my mom, and she’s barely clinging to life with medical equipment. How can you let another man wear it?!” Scarlett’s movements paused, as if she finally realized. But she didn’t lower her head, shielding Ethan behind her, and said in a deep voice, “Even so, you shouldn’t lay a hand on him! Apologize to Ethan!” My voice tightened. “He’s the one who was wrong. Why should I apologize?” Scarlett scoffed. “Fine, let’s see how long you can keep this up. Don’t regret it!” With that, she turned to Ethan, her tone softening. “Change back into your clothes. I’ll take you to the hospital.” Ethan nodded, casting a glance at me before he left. I hadn’t meant to lose control. But the emotional disparity was too great; it was suffocating me. Blood from the cut on my forehead trickled down my brow, and a familiar message popped up on my phone. [My offer still stands. As long as you’re willing, I’ll marry you.] I didn’t want to wait for Scarlett anymore. I’d waited for her for five years for this marriage. How many five-year periods does one life have? I finally made up my mind to reply. [I agree. Get ready.]

But I didn’t expect Scarlett’s methods to be so swift. The next day, as I went downstairs, two bodyguards forced me into a chair. In front of me were countless bottles of liquor. My heart tightened, and I looked at Scarlett, who was sitting on the couch. “What are you doing?” Scarlett smiled, pointing to Ethan beside her. “I told you, let’s see how long you can keep this up.” The consequence of not apologizing. The realization hit me like a thunderclap, as if something exploded in my mind. I stared intently at her. “Scarlett, you can’t do this to me, I can’t drink alcohol!” A flicker of hesitation crossed Scarlett’s eyes. Ethan saw it. He frowned, looking at Scarlett. “If he doesn’t want to apologize, just let it go. I’m fine.” Scarlett’s face darkened. “I said I wouldn’t let you be wronged.” With that, Scarlett looked back at me and smiled. “Didn’t you used to work at a bar? How can you not drink now?” “Since you won’t apologize, then you’ll have to endure this.” My heart sank. Scarlett seemed to have truly forgotten that my stomach was ruined drinking for her. Back then, Scarlett’s family sent people to the bar to make things difficult for her. Knowing she was allergic to alcohol, they still demanded she drink ten bottles of liquor before she could leave. It was me who drank bottle after bottle for her. By the end, I lost consciousness and was rushed to the hospital. When I woke up, Scarlett was there, watching over me. She apologized again and again. “The doctor said you can’t touch alcohol anymore. Let’s quit this job, okay?” “I’ll take care of you from now on, and I’ll take good care of your stomach.” Scarlett spoke earnestly, and I was happy that she could continue doing what she loved. Time passed, and in just four years, Scarlett had forgotten. I suddenly felt that my four-year-old self wasn’t worth it. The bodyguards forcing the liquor down my throat brought my thoughts back. I struggled, but no matter how much I resisted, the alcohol still went down my throat. It made me cough. Scarlett’s hands clenched at her sides, and she reminded me, “As long as you apologize to Ethan, I can let you go.”

I didn’t bow my head, struggling to speak. “What did I do wrong?” “You’re the one who’s wrong, both of you!” Seeing that I still wouldn’t give in, Scarlett waved her hand to continue. The alcohol entered my stomach, causing a burning pain. I gritted my teeth, trying not to make a sound. But the next second, my phone rang. It was a call from Ms. Miller, my mom’s caregiver. Ms. Miller never called for no reason; every time it was because Mom had been rushed to the operating room. Thinking of this, my heart suddenly sank. I yelled hoarsely, “Scarlett, I apologize, I know I was wrong.” “I was wrong, I won’t ever lay a hand on Ethan again, please let me go.” Scarlett was a little surprised, but she still sneered, “Alex, an apology needs some sincerity. I’m not the one you should be apologizing to.” The bodyguards, perceptive, released me. I didn’t care about anything else, and I walked a few steps to Ethan’s front. To his surprised expression, I bowed my head again and again. “Ethan, I know I was wrong, I shouldn’t have laid a hand on you.” “I beg your forgiveness, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry…” I don’t know how many times I said it, but Scarlett still didn’t give in. It wasn’t until the wound on my forehead split open and started bleeding that Scarlett frowned. She had a bodyguard bring the first-aid kit and tried to pull me up. “I told you, as long as you’re good, I’ll give you anything you want.” “Let’s just forget about this time, just be good in the future.” But I ignored Scarlett, pushing her away and stumbling out. Scarlett chased after me, her voice laced with panic, “Alex, where are you going?!” I didn’t respond, flagged down a car, and went to the hospital. Throughout the journey, I prayed incessantly. As I arrived at the operating room, the doors opened. The doctor looked at me and shook his head, giving a different result for the first time. “I’m sorry, we did everything we could.” I stood at the operating room door, my mind buzzing. Scarlett, who had rushed after me, also heard those words. Her face instantly turned ashen. Remembering what she had just done, Scarlett felt a wave of panic. She walked forward, wanting to say something. A hand suddenly blocked her. “Get away! Don’t touch him!”

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The day I collapsed from heart failure, I lay alone in our large house during a power outage. My husband and son were outside, setting off fireworks across the city for another woman. After what felt like an endless night, my son finally came home. He kicked my emergency medication, which lay by my foot, with disgust. “Mom, can you please stop faking illnesses for sympathy? Bella is so upset because of you, she can’t even eat!” My husband, Daniel, shielded our son, his voice laced with annoyance. “Eleanor, have you made enough of a scene? Bella just got back from overseas, and she’s emotionally fragile. As the lady of the house, can’t you be more generous and accommodating?” I looked up at the man whose face once swore to protect me from any grievance. I didn’t argue. I just quietly signed the “Organ Donation Consent Form” I’d hidden at the bottom of a drawer. Eight years ago, Daniel had written on a greeting card: “My heart beats only for Eleanor.” Our eight-year-old son had awkwardly drawn a heart on it, adding: “I’ll protect Mommy forever too.” They seemed to have forgotten. It’s fine. They’ll remember the day my heart stops beating for good.

The pen scratched across the paper, and the moment my name was signed, a dull, heavy ache pulsed in my chest again. I pressed my hand to my left side, cold sweat tracing paths down my cheeks. It took a while for the pain to subside slightly. I folded the organ donation consent form and tucked it into the deepest part of the drawer. The lock clicked as I turned the key, just as the front door downstairs swung open. “Watch your step, don’t twist your ankle.” That was Daniel’s voice, hushed and unusually gentle and patient — a tone he rarely used with me. I held onto the banister as I walked downstairs. Daniel was carefully escorting a woman inside. It was Bella Rivera, his college sweetheart, the woman who once made him smoke an entire pack of cigarettes alone late at night. Now, she was brazenly walking into my home. Bella scanned the living room after entering, her gaze finally landing on me. A smile played on her lips, but her body subtly snuggled closer to Daniel. “Eleanor, I’m so sorry. I just got back to the country and haven’t found a place yet. I’ll have to bother you for a few days. You don’t mind, do you?” I gripped the banister tightly, my failing heart pounding even harder in my chest. What good would minding do? Last night, Daniel hadn’t even discussed it with me; he’d simply informed me she was moving in. Before I could answer, eight-year-old Leo, clutching a new pair of slippers, ran up to Bella. “Bella, wear these. They’re super soft.” My vision blurred as I looked down. Those were the slippers I’d trekked to three different stores under the scorching sun to buy just two days ago. When I first brought them home, Leo had clung to my leg, playfully begging, saying I would look the prettiest wearing them. Now, he didn’t hesitate to give them away to impress another woman. Bella smiled and ruffled Leo’s hair as she put on the slippers. They were a bit too big, and she frowned prettily. Seeing this, Daniel immediately glared at me, his brows furrowed in displeasure. “Eleanor, you’re usually just idling around at home. Why can’t you even manage basic preparations for a guest? Bella has small feet. Giving her such big slippers, are you deliberately trying to embarrass her?” My stomach churned with acid. I took a deep, nauseous breath. They were bought for me, of course they wouldn’t fit her. I didn’t argue. I just turned and walked towards the sofa. My body swayed as I moved too quickly, and I had to grab the back of the sofa to steady myself. Daniel didn’t notice anything amiss. He pulled Bella to sit opposite me. “You’ve been busy all morning, Bella must be hungry. Go to the kitchen now and prepare something light. Bella has a sensitive stomach and can’t eat greasy food.” He leaned back on the sofa, issuing orders. In the past, I would have rushed into the kitchen, eager to earn a word of praise. But today, I was simply too exhausted. The sharp pain in my chest had drained all my strength, let alone the energy to cater to his first love. I took off my apron and draped it over the back of the sofa. “I’m a bit tired. I don’t feel like cooking. You guys can order takeout or go out.” Daniel froze, apparently not expecting his usually obedient wife to dare to refuse him in front of an outsider. A cold, angry sneer quickly appeared on his face. “Eleanor, you’ve grown a temper, have you? Bella just arrived today, and you’re already putting on airs as the lady of the house, even haggling over a single meal? This little game you’re playing, it just makes me sick.” Even my refusal to serve them was seen as a tactic to gain his attention. Before I could speak, Leo pouted and pointed at me. “Mom is so selfish. She never does anything around the house, and she won’t even cook something for us. Bella just got back and worked so hard, you don’t even care about her. Bella is much gentler than you.” Each word from my eight-year-old son pierced my heart. This was the home I’d sacrificed my career to care for, for eight years. This was also the consequence of the heart condition I developed after risking my life to give birth to him. In the end, I couldn’t even compare to a stranger. My heart began to beat erratically, and my vision blurred again. I knew I couldn’t stay. I calmly turned, dragging my heavy steps towards the guest room on the first floor, leaving the master bedroom and living room to the three of them. “Stop right there. Who are you putting on this ‘poor me’ act for?” Daniel demanded from behind me, his voice simmering with rage. I didn’t pause until I reached the guest room and closed the door behind me. Soon, Bella’s soft, comforting voice could be heard outside. “Daniel, don’t blame Eleanor. She’s probably upset that I’m here. Let’s just go out to eat.” Leo chimed in, eager to take her out for a fancy meal, and then the front door slammed shut. The house fell silent instantly, leaving only my labored breathing. I slid down the door to the floor, fumbled for my emergency medication, and dry-swallowed a few pills. Once my breathing steadied, I pulled out my phone and dialed a number. “Dr. Miller, it’s Eleanor Vance. I’ve already signed the organ donation confirmation form. How long does the process usually take?” The voice on the other end sounded heavy, sighing just before I heard the sound of a key turning in the lock outside the door.

I quickly hung up and flipped my phone face down, struggling to stand upright. Leo ran in, clutching an old notebook with yellowed edges, heading straight for the living room. That was my journal from when I was pregnant with him, documenting the three hundred-plus shots I’d taken to protect the pregnancy and the joy of counting his fetal movements. I’d always kept that journal cherished in the living room’s glass display cabinet. I walked out of the guest room and saw Leo placing the journal directly under the plate Bella was holding. “Bella, the table is a bit wobbly. I’ll use this to prop it up so your food won’t spill.” Blood rushed to my head. I strode over, intending to pull the journal out, but Bella deliberately pressed down on its edge. She looked up, feigning innocence, but a subtle smile played on her lips. “Eleanor, I’m so sorry. Leo said this was just an old, worthless notebook, so I used it as a coaster. Don’t be angry with the boy. I’ll just help you wipe it clean later.” The bottom of the plate scratched deep marks into the cover. The moment my fingers touched the journal’s edge, Leo forcefully shoved me. Unprepared, I stumbled backward and hit the wall. A dull pain shot through my back. “Why are you scaring Bella? What’s a few old notebooks worth anyway? Dad can just buy you new ones.” Leo stood in front of Bella, glaring at me with open hostility. Daniel walked out of the kitchen, carrying a cup of hot milk. Without asking for an explanation, he frowned and reprimanded me. “Eleanor, what’s gotten into you first thing in the morning? You’ve completely ruined the atmosphere. What’s the big deal if an old journal is used as a coaster? Is it worth laying hands on a child over?” My fingernails dug deeply into my palms, blood seeping from my skin. “That was my journal from when I lay in the hospital for half a year, fighting to give birth to Leo.” My voice was dry and tight. Daniel’s eyes flickered with an unnatural expression, but he quickly hardened his face. He pulled out his black credit card from his wallet and tossed it onto the dining table, sliding it towards Bella. “Bella, after you eat, let Leo take you shopping. Use this card for whatever you want. Consider it compensation for the trouble you went through today.” He was using my money to please another woman, to compensate her for the ‘shock’ of using my journal as a coaster. A metallic taste of blood rose in my throat. My legs gave out, and I slid down the wall, clutching my chest. Cold sweat trickled down my forehead. I gasped for air, but it felt like I couldn’t breathe. Leo, standing by, rolled his eyes and snorted. “Dad, look, she’s acting again. Every time she can’t win an argument, she pretends to be sick. That trick is so old. Bella, let’s ignore her. We’ll go buy a big Transformer.” Daniel looked at my pale face and trembling body, his brow furrowing. He took a step forward, but Bella grabbed his sleeve. “Daniel, I feel a bit dizzy. Maybe I haven’t adjusted to the time difference yet…” Daniel immediately turned to steady Bella, not sparing me another glance. I gritted my teeth, swallowed the metallic taste in my throat, and used the wall to slowly push myself up. I walked to the dining table. Right in front of them, I forcefully pulled out the crumpled journal. The cover was already stained with grease. I didn’t look at it again, simply lifted my hand and tossed it into the nearby trash can. Daniel’s face changed as he saw the journal in the trash. He opened his mouth to speak but forced himself to remain firm, scolding me. “Absolutely illogical, your temper is getting stranger and stranger.” Then he put his arm around Bella’s shoulders and left with Leo. Hearing the car drive away, I retreated to the guest room and collapsed onto the bed. Only after the dreadful palpitations subsided did I pick up my phone. I dialed a number I hadn’t called in a long time. “Mr. Davies, it’s Eleanor. I want to divest all my indirect shares in Vance Corporation.” When Daniel started his business, I sold my house and borrowed money to raise capital for him. The shares had always been registered under his name. Mr. Davies quickly agreed, scheduling a meeting for tomorrow afternoon. Just as I hung up, a new message arrived from my attending physician at the Central Hospital. “Ms. Vance, your test results are in. Your heart failure has worsened significantly. Conservatively, you have less than three days. Please come to the hospital for admission immediately.” Three days. I stared at the numbers on the screen, my dry lips curling into a bleak smile. Good. Divesting the shares and completing the donation procedures would be enough.

Only two days remained until the final deadline. Daniel pushed open the guest room door. Without even looking at my pale face, he held out his hand for the keys to the Ocean Bay Beach House. That was the house he bought with his first big money, registered in my name, and the place where he proposed to me. I lay against the headboard, unmoving, and looked at his expectant face, asking what he wanted the keys for. He impatiently tugged at his tie, his face full of displeasure. “Bella is feeling down and wants to clear her head by the sea. I’m taking her and Leo to stay at the Ocean Bay for two nights. She just got back and has nothing. As the lady of the house, can’t you be generous enough to lend her the house for a few days?” To take another woman to the place he proposed, for a vacation, and expect me to hand him the keys myself. I pulled open the drawer, found the keys, and the access card, and tossed them onto the duvet. “Take them. You can use everything inside however you like.” My straightforward attitude surprised Daniel a little. He took the keys, looking uncomfortable as he explained they were just going to relax. I didn’t respond, turning my back to him, and picked up my phone to text Mr. Davies. “Also, please draft a divorce agreement for me. I don’t want anything. Send it to me as soon as possible.” Seeing that I ignored him, Daniel snorted, took the keys, and slammed the door shut as he left. In the evening, I heated the doctor’s prescribed medicine in the kitchen. The bitter smell made me cough uncontrollably. Laughter and playful shouts from Bella and Leo came from the living room as they packed their bags. Suddenly, a gasp was followed by the sound of something heavy falling. Bella had fallen down the last three steps of the staircase. She sat on the floor, clutching her ankle, tears streaming down her face. Hearing the commotion, Daniel rushed downstairs. He picked Bella up tenderly, then spun around, glaring fiercely at me as I emerged from the kitchen. “Eleanor, look what you’ve done! So what if I borrowed the keys to your old beach house? Do you really have to be so malicious as to push someone down the stairs?” My hand, holding the medicine bowl, trembled. A few drops of scalding medicine splattered onto my hand, leaving a red mark. “I was in the kitchen the whole time. I wasn’t even near the stairs.” Bella, nestled in Daniel’s arms, shook her head tearfully. “Daniel, don’t blame Eleanor. I just lost my footing. Maybe she accidentally bumped me as she passed.” Daniel completely exploded. He strode over and kicked the bowl of medicine out of my hand. The ceramic bowl shattered on the floor, and the life-saving medicine I had just spent three hours brewing splashed everywhere, soaking my pants. I looked at the mess on the floor. The stabbing pain in my chest returned, and I lost the strength to even stand upright. My knees gave out, and I sank to the floor, reaching out with a trembling hand to pick up the pills that were still usable. The moment my fingertips touched a pill, Leo stepped on my hand, grinding his heel into it. He gritted his teeth, glaring at me with intense disgust. His small face was full of loathing. “You wicked woman, not only do you bully Bella, but you also cook this stinky stuff at home. I don’t deserve a mom like you, you make me so ashamed!” My finger bones were throbbing, and my skin scraped against the broken ceramic, starting to bleed. Hearing my own son utter such words, I didn’t cry; my eyes didn’t even well up. I pulled away my bloody, bruised hand, looked at the clear shoe print on its back, and forced a smile. A smile at the eight years of devotion that had led to this outcome. Daniel, seeing me still smiling, looked even more disgusted. He picked up Bella and walked out without a backward glance. “Come on, Leo. Let’s take Bella to the hospital for a check-up. This crazy woman can stay home and reflect.” The three of them left. Thunder rumbled outside the house, and a few minutes later, the rain began to pour. All the lights in the house suddenly went out, plunging the surroundings into darkness. The throbbing in my chest turned into a continuous, excruciating pain. I fumbled for my phone, only to find it dead. I could only crawl along the wall towards the landline in the living room. A mere few meters felt like twenty minutes. Finally, I reached the receiver and pressed it to my ear, but there was no sound. I traced the telephone line down and found a smooth cut. The phone line had been severed. Leo had been messing with craft scissors just before they left. He had personally blocked his own mother’s last chance at life. The intense pain completely overwhelmed me. I curled up on the cold floor, my consciousness beginning to fade. I didn’t even have the strength to breathe. I could only lie there, silently waiting in the dark, powerless house. I don’t know how much time passed. The rain stopped. The faint light of dawn filtered through the window, and faintly, the wail of an ambulance siren could be heard outside.

The mansion’s front door was forcibly smashed open. A team of people in uniforms rushed in, their flashlights sweeping across my face. This was the private emergency medical team I had prepaid a high price to hire two days ago. The lead doctor knelt, checking my pupils, and urgently directed them to put me on a stretcher. “Patient is in deep shock, heartbeat extremely weak. Immediate stretcher transfer, quickly!” My body was numb. They carried me onto a stretcher and rushed me into the emergency room at Central Hospital. With the jolt of the defibrillator, I briefly regained a sliver of consciousness. The attending physician stood by the bed, holding a report, his face grim. “Ms. Vance, your heart function is completely lost. You can’t undergo a transplant surgery. The machines can only maintain your vital signs for the last two hours. Do you have any family members you need to speak to?” A layer of mist clouded the oxygen mask. I used my remaining strength to weakly shake my head. No family left. The nurse looked distressed. According to regulations, she had to call my immediate family for confirmation. She dialed Daniel’s number, which was on file, and put the phone on speaker by my pillow. It rang for a long time before someone picked up. From the other end, cheerful music and the sounds of fireworks played. “Daniel, look at that firework, it’s so pretty! Leo, come take a picture!” Bella’s joyful laughter echoed into the emergency room. The nurse paused for a moment before raising her voice. “Hello, is this Mr. Daniel Vance? This is the Central Hospital emergency room. Your wife, Ms. Eleanor Vance, is in extremely critical condition and could pass away at any moment. Please come immediately to sign some papers.” There was a brief silence on the other end, then Daniel’s extremely impatient shout. “Eleanor, are you done yet?! Bella finally got to the amusement park to clear her head. Why do you have to pick this moment to fake your death and ruin the mood?! I’m telling you, even if you die at home today, I won’t come back to see you!” After the noise, the phone seemed to be snatched away, and Leo’s shrill voice came through. “Exactly! Stop lying, you always use this trick. If you’re really sick, then get on your knees and beg Bella for forgiveness, or we’re absolutely not coming back!” The medical staff in the emergency room exchanged glances, their eyes full of shock and sorrow. The ventilator hissed rhythmically. I raised my bloody and bruised hand, trembling. The nurse quickly brought the phone closer to my ear. I swallowed a final mouthful of bloody saliva and parted my dry lips. “No need to come back. I hope you… have fun.” My voice was soft, without a ripple of emotion. After speaking, I used my last ounce of strength to press the end call button. The nurse, with reddened eyes, handed me the confirmation form for refusing resuscitation and consenting to organ donation. I didn’t hesitate. I held the pen and shakily signed my name at the bottom. The pen slipped from my grasp and fell onto the bedsheet. The breath that had been trapped in my chest for eight years finally dissipated. The lights above me blurred, and the alarms from the instruments faded into the distance. I was finally free. The monitor let out a steady, long beep, and only a flat line remained on the screen. Dozens of miles away at the amusement park, fireworks lit up the sky one after another. Daniel shoved his phone back into his pocket, his brows deeply furrowed, and muttered a curse under his breath. Bella, linked arm-in-arm with him, pointed at the fireworks in the sky and laughed. He forced a smile, but his phone in his pocket vibrated violently again. Annoyed, he pulled out his phone. It was the same number from before. He answered, about to unleash a tirade. A cold female voice came from the other end. “Mr. Vance, this is the Organ Donation Department at Central Hospital. Your wife, Ms. Eleanor Vance, has been confirmed deceased, and organ procurement has been completed. Please come to the morgue as soon as possible to claim her remaining belongings.”

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On the day of my pregnancy checkup, my boyfriend William and my best friend Heather came with me. Everyone said I was lucky, blessed with both love and friendship. I held Heather’s hand and joked with William, “Heather is my best friend. You better not neglect her.” William gave a helpless smile, but didn’t exactly give Heather a warm look. Seeing William maintain such clear boundaries filled me with happiness as I went in for my exam, but when the checkup was over, William and Heather were nowhere to be found. I immediately called William on my phone, but heard a familiar ringtone coming from the stairwell. I followed the sound toward the stairwell door. Separated by just that one door, I heard the most devastating words of my life. “Darling, you smell so good~” “Stop it, we’re in a hospital.” The normally gentle and respectable William was now shamelessly tangled up with Heather. I watched them flirt as if no one else existed, their vulgar and suggestive words spilling out nonstop. The massive shock made my head spin instantly, a sharp pain twisting in my abdomen, and I let out a groan of pain before blacking out. When I woke up again, I saw the worried expressions on William and Heather’s faces…

“Lisa, are you okay?” William reached out to help me up, but I instinctively pulled back. The filthy, disgusting scene in the stairwell flashed through my mind again. “Don’t touch me.” William met my eyes and his face stiffened. He knew I must have seen everything. Just then, the doctor walked over and said, “The patient fainted due to emotional shock. Luckily, her body is fine, but your wife is about to give birth. Be a little more considerate.” The doctor looked at William with a hint of displeasure. William quickly nodded and apologized, unsure of how to face me. After the doctor left, Heather, who had been silent the whole time, finally stepped forward. “Lisa, since you know, there’s no need for William and me to hide it from you anymore.” William shot Heather a glare, but she didn’t care at all. “Lisa is my best friend. What’s there to hide between us? We’re together now.” She said it with such self-righteousness, like it was just some kind of announcement. My face was pale. William had been watching my expression closely and immediately snapped at Heather. “Enough! Don’t you know Lisa is pregnant?” Heather pouted. William came over to soothe me. “Don’t upset the baby. I’ll explain this whole thing to you later.” “Get away from me!” I shoved William away with disgust, a sharp pain twisting in my chest. The truth was slapping me right in the face. What was there left to explain? Heather quickly steadied the stumbling William and glared at me angrily. “Lisa, don’t be so unreasonable. Don’t use your pregnancy as an excuse to scream at William.” “He’s not just your man anymore. Even if you don’t care about him, I do.” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. My eyes red, I demanded, “How long has this… been going on?” Just asking that question took every ounce of my strength. The pain in my chest was so fierce I could barely breathe. “Let it go, Lisa. Please, just listen to me, okay? The most important thing right now is your health,” William said, unable to bear seeing me like this. But I screamed, my heart shattering, “Answer me!” The scream made Heather’s face twist with anger. She shot back, a hint of revenge in her tone, without any hesitation. “I’ll be honest with you. The day I introduced William to you… no, even earlier than that, we were already together.” My whole body trembled. Three years. Three whole years. And even longer. The first year, Heather introduced William to me. The second year, William and I officially started dating. And this year, the third year, I got pregnant. Yet in some corner I never saw, William and Heather were inseparable. The thought that we had shared a man for these three years made me violently nauseous. Heather, however, put on understanding act and smiled at me. “Lisa, we’re friends who tell each other everything. You’ll understand, right?” Looking at my once cheerful best friend holding onto my man, I couldn’t hold it in anymore. I bent over and retched violently. William was terrified. He rushed to my side in a flash. “Lisa, what’s wrong? Let me get a doctor.” I used all my remaining strength to back away, refusing to let him near me. Gasping for air, I said, “William, I don’t want this baby anymore.”

William’s face instantly turned ashen. He grabbed my hands tightly and forced me back down onto the bed. “Lisa, don’t joke around.” William was usually mild-mannered and never lost his temper with me. This was the first time I’d seen him like this. I was stunned, but when I came to my senses, I was more confused than anything. I didn’t understand why William, who was so clearly entangled with Heather, had purposely gotten me pregnant with his child. William seemed to realize how frightening he looked. He took a deep breath and returned to his usual gentleness, coaxing me softly. “This is my fault. It has nothing to do with the baby. If you’re angry, take it all out on me.” I couldn’t speak. It all felt so absurd. Seeing I was still upset, William turned to Heather and scolded her, “This is all because of your big mouth! Get over here and apologize to Lisa right now!” He was defending me, just like he always did. And that was exactly why I had never suspected anything between them before. Heather was clearly unhappy after being yelled at by William, but she obediently walked over to me, looking wronged. “Lisa, don’t be mad anymore. The baby in your belly is what’s important.” The nausea washed over me again. Heather pouted. “You saw it yourself. William cares about you. Besides, we’ve been friends for so many years. I’m not here to steal your man.” I was so shocked by Heather’s shamelessness that I couldn’t even speak. Was what I saw in the stairwell just some kind of illusion? “You’re the baby’s mother. William can’t bear to lose you, and I care about you too. Can we just focus on having a healthy pregnancy, okay?” “Get out!” It was like I was seeing Heather for the first time. I grabbed the teacup from the nightstand and hurled it at her with all my might. “Ah!” Heather let out a pitiful scream. I looked up and saw the teacup shattered in the corner, with Heather on the floor. I stared at my own hand, momentarily at a loss. Then I looked up and met William’s furious gaze. “Lisa!” It was almost a roar, but the accusing words were forced back down when he saw my pale face. William silently rushed to Heather, carefully checking her body. “I’m fine. Lisa is mad at me, and I deserve it.” William helped her up to go see a doctor, but before leaving, he made a point of saying to me. “Don’t go anywhere. The baby you’re carrying is also my child. If anything happens to the baby…” He stopped there, his expression extremely complicated. Then he took Heather and finally left the hospital room. I sucked in a sharp breath, tears streaming down my face at the same time. The tears I had been holding back for so long, alone now in that hospital room, finally burst forth like a flood.

Heather and I had been friends for six years. Three years ago, she introduced me to her childhood friend. William, an independent game developer. Handsome and rich. In Heather’s words, he was a high-quality man. But I hadn’t really had any strong feelings for William. I knew he was Heather’s childhood friend, and because of that connection, I kept turning him down. I didn’t want a man to ruin my friendship with Heather. But Heather kept pushing for us to be together, saying her biggest wish was for me to be happy. So, with Heather cheering us on, William chased me for an entire year. And just like Heather said, William was a great guy. He was gentle and caring, never once losing his temper with me. In the years I was with William, I felt incredibly happy. We would all go out together like usual. I didn’t mind Heather joining us, but William seemed quite annoyed by it. Taking advantage of a moment when Heather went to the bathroom, he grabbed my waist and whispered a kiss near my ear. “Lisa, I was hoping our dates could be just the two of us. Heather always tagging along… what is this?” “During the movie just now, I didn’t even get a chance to steal a kiss.” William’s words made my heart tingle. Just as I was about to soothe him, Heather popped up again. Embarrassed, I pushed William away. “Oh, William, stop it.” Heather took the opportunity to wedge herself between us, naturally looping her arm through mine and saying sourly. “Lisa, you’re so blinded by love. Now that you have a boyfriend, you’ve forgotten all about me!” I quickly denied it jokingly, moving to placate Heather. “You’re the one who set us up. When we get married, I’ll have to thank you properly.” But just as the words left my mouth, Heather froze. Maybe it was my imagination, but I caught a flicker of shock in Heather’s eyes. I didn’t think too much of it at the time. Heather laughed dryly and said, a little strangely, “You two are getting married?” As she spoke, her eyes darted toward William. William looked at me and was silent for a long time before finally murmuring, “Yeah.” But after that outing, year after year, I brought up my wish to get married countless times. William’s answer was always the same: wait a little longer, there’s no rush. Now that I think about it, I realize he wasn’t against marriage. It was just that I was never the one he wanted to marry. Thinking this, my tears had already run dry. I was like an empty shell drained of all strength, my heart filled with nothing but endless grief and helplessness. The door clicked softly, and Heather walked into the room, perfectly fine. She came closer and sat on the edge of my bed, saying softly, “Don’t worry, I’m not hurt at all.” I stared silently at this incredibly familiar face, trying to see through her and figure out what she was thinking. “Pretty good act, right?” She smiled, a look of provocation on her face. “William really does still care about me.” My brow furrowed, and I ground my teeth. “Why?” Heather let out a sigh and answered casually, “Because I love him.” “You bitch!” Heather’s shamelessness made me furious all over again. I raised my hand to slap her. But I was too weak. Heather easily overpowered me in a second. She grabbed my wrist and slammed it down hard against the bed. Her face flushed with anger, clearly offended by what I called her. “Lisa, watch your mouth! You’re the one who stole William from me!” I let out a humorless laugh. She was the one who pushed me towards William, and now she was the one betraying me! How dare she accuse me of stealing her man?! If she loved William, why did she go out of her way to set us up, over and over? More than William’s betrayal, being played by Heather hurt me so much more. I ground my teeth, threw all dignity out the window, and spat out the most hurtful words I could find. “I’m pregnant with William’s child. We’re going to get married. So aren’t you the one rushing to be the other woman right now?” 　　 Heather’s face darkened with humiliation. “So what if you two were sneaking around behind my back? Did he give you any real status? Did he promise you anything?” “Am I wrong to call you a whore? Sharing my husband with me?” I glared at her fiercely, my voice a low growl through gritted teeth. “Heather, you are a goddamn whore!” “Shut up!” Heather was furious. She raised her hand and suddenly grabbed my throat. This time, I understood. There was hatred in her eyes. She hated me. “Who do you think you are? Let me tell you something. The only reason I let William go to you was because I wanted to use your body to get a child!” “You bitch, you actually dared to seduce William. If it weren’t for his baby in your belly, I’d strangle you right now!” “What do you have to be so smug about? You think William loves you? He has never loved you! I’m the only one he loves!” “If it weren’t for me, he wouldn’t even want to touch you! You call me the other woman? Let me tell you, you’re the other woman!” “The one who isn’t loved is the other woman!” My heart shuddered violently. My eyes red, I asked her one more time, “Then why? Why do this to me? Wasn’t I your best friend?” Heather glared at me, grinding her teeth. “I never considered you my friend.” Ridiculous. Absolutely ridiculous. So it was all one-sided. I was the one who foolishly thought Heather was my friend. I was the one who foolishly fell in love with William. 　　 Whether it was William or Heather, this disgustingly twisted three-way relationship, I wanted nothing to do with any of it anymore! “Fine. I’ll give him back to you.” I climbed out of bed in a daze. “I’m going to get rid of this baby right now. You and William, and that… child that can never see the light of day. I don’t want any of it.”

“No!” Heather’s face stiffened as she grabbed my wrist. I froze, my brow furrowing, and just then, there was a noise from outside the door. I tried to pull my wrist free from Heather’s grip, but she was terrified I’d rush out to get an abortion, so she held on even tighter. I was in serious pain. “Let go!” So I struggled even harder, and right at that moment, William pushed the door open. Heather immediately slapped herself across the face. I was stunned. William stormed over impatiently, couldn’t help but roughly shove me aside, and shielded Heather behind him. “Lisa, are you done causing trouble yet? Heather’s already admitted she was wrong. Is there any point in you constantly going after her?” I stared at William in disbelief. Heather, seeing this, immediately pressed closer to William, looking utterly wronged. “Lisa thinks I’m the other woman who broke you two up. In the end, it’s all my fault. But I really never meant to steal your man.” “I love William, and William loves me. Isn’t that just two people who love each other?” I looked at William, hoping he would deny it. William looked at the red slap mark on Heather’s cheek, his expression complicated. After a moment of silence, he spoke. “Heather is not the other woman. We truly do love each other.” Heather raised an eyebrow, unable to hide the provocation in her eyes, as if she was proving something. In that moment, my heart died completely. A doctor knocked on the door from outside, reminding us about the medical bill. Heather said smugly, “I’ll go pay it. Gotta do my duty for the baby.” The hospital room was left with just me and William. William looked conflicted. He reached out to take my hand, but I subtly avoided him and walked over to the window alone. “Lisa, please don’t be mad anymore, okay?” I stared blankly out the window. In William’s memory, I was always bright and radiant, but right now, I looked like a deflated, empty shell. “Lisa, I know I shouldn’t have kept this from you, but aren’t you and Heather friends? This little thing isn’t worth all this drama, right?” A little thing? I scoffed bitterly. “William, these past three years… did you ever love me?” A sharp pain twisted in William’s chest. He didn’t know how to answer. After a long while, he said hesitantly, “Of course I love you, but I also love Heather.” I was silent. Seeing me not say a word, the unease in William’s heart grew more intense, a primal intuition of loss. He was terrified I didn’t want to keep the baby, even more terrified I’d say the word ‘breakup’. So he launched into a string of explanations on his own, but I couldn’t listen to any of it. Suddenly, as if he’d thought of something, he looked up hopefully. “Lisa, haven’t you always wanted to marry me? Once you have the baby, let’s get married, okay… Lisa!” The proposal wasn’t even finished when William’s hopeful face turned deathly pale in an instant. Time seemed to stretch out in that moment. William lunged toward the window. But it was all too late.

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After the fake heiress slandered me for the ninety-ninth time, my family sold me to the most sadistic tycoon in Los Angeles. I lay on the ground, crying and banging my head until it bled, begging them to let me go. But my father, George, slapped me hard across the face. “You wanted to fight for attention and bully Audrey? Go to the tycoon, learn your place, and how to behave.” My brother, Holt, chimed in from the side, “Exactly! Audrey is the same age as you, so how is she so much more thoughtful and caring? If you can’t learn the rules, don’t ever come back!” My mother, Mason, who once loved me the most, looked at me with a stranger’s eyes. She held Audrey in her arms, and her gaze was like an icy arrow. “Only by suffering can the lesson be etched into your bones. Only then can you understand Audrey’s hardships and pain.” So I was sent away. I carried three pregnancies for the tycoon that never came to term, was handed to his rivals for humiliation, took the fall for his crimes and went to prison, had three fingers severed, was forced to crawl through crotches and bark like a dog… In the third winter, I escaped, and died alone under a frozen bridge. Two years later, my family wanted to draw my Rh-negative blood to save the fake heiress, but I had already been dead for five years.

I died. My soul drifted into the pitch-black night sky, staring down at my ghastly, inhuman, pale corpse. Following my faded memories, I drifted back to the Rasmus family home. The house was so lively, hosting Audrey’s birthday party. I stared at Audrey, who was the center of attention, like a princess among her subjects. She wore a designer haute couture dress, diamond-encrusted high heels, and jewelry worth a fortune, smiling a stunning, show-stopping smile. I thought of myself, frozen to death under the cold bridge. Dressed in a filthy, ragged cloth, my face so disfigured from inhuman torture it no longer looked human. My left hand was a disgusting sight, three fingers chopped off from my escape attempt. Yet, I was clearly the child of my parents, Holt’s biological sister, and I had died a miserable death in the ice and snow, with a grievance I could never let go. Amidst the laughter and chatter, a noblewoman mentioned me. “Where’s Carol? Why isn’t she out? Isn’t it her birthday too?” Mason’s face darkened, and George and Holt’s faces looked like they could drip water. Audrey paused, her eyes darting around, and said with a smile, trying to smooth things over. “Mom and Dad punished her, and she got upset and ran away from home. It can’t be helped; Carol has always been more delicate than me.” The noblewoman nodded, tactfully not mentioning me again. George snorted, sneering. “Audrey, you don’t need to make excuses for that scoundrel. A degenerate who frames her sisters and harms her own family—the Rasmus family has no such daughter!” The noblewoman gasped, covering her mouth. I knew she was a gossip. Without a doubt, my reputation would be dragged through the mud by those few words tonight. Holt’s face was full of disgust as he clenched his fist. “Dad’s right. Rest assured, Audrey, as long as I’m alive, and as long as she hasn’t repented, I won’t let her set foot through the Rasmus family’s door again.” Mason also nodded, her face expressionless. “On such a joyous day, why bring up that unlucky person?” I thought about the past. When I first returned to the Rasmus family as the true heiress, they all treated me like a treasure. Audrey always said she saw me as her dearest and best sister, but whenever we were together, she was always having some kind of “accident.” She fell and scraped her knee, saying I pushed her, deliberately making her look bad at a business banquet. She said I poisoned her drink, making her throat hoarse so she couldn’t sing, causing them to get last place in a choir competition. Slowly, George stopped smiling at me, Holt stopped calling me his sister, the gifts they prepared never included me, and Mason stopped holding me or making me delicious food. The only things I received were endless distrust and punishment. Finally, one day, when Audrey cut her own face and said I did it, they sold me to the most ruthless “sugar daddy” in all of Los Angeles. “If you don’t learn your place, don’t ever come back!” I was sold to be molested in a casino, forced into bed with greasy men. I was beaten until I miscarried, carried three pregnancies for my abuser that never came to term. I was handed to his rivals for humiliation, took the fall for his crimes and went to prison. I had three fingers severed, was forced to crawl through crotches and bark like a dog… Thinking about this, my eyes turned red. Dad, Mom, Holt, if you knew the torture I endured and that I was already dead, what would you do? Just then, George’s phone rang. He patted Audrey’s shoulder affectionately and walked aside to answer it. “Hello, this is the LAPD. Carol’s body was discovered by a passerby tonight. Please come to claim the body as soon as possible.”

I waited for George’s reaction, but he just let out a cold smirk. “Carol, what kind of trick are you playing now? You want to come home? Dream on!” “Did you think we’d let you come back and bully Audrey?” A pang of pain shot through my heart. It was true. Over the years, I never stopped hoping my family would get me out. Even when the result of trying to contact them was a broken right leg, ten fingernails being pried off, or being beaten unconscious again and again. Over the years, I tried everything. Sending messages through people, calling, texting, even going to find them myself, but it was always like a stone sinking into the ocean. The day after I was beaten into a miscarriage, I chewed through the ropes and jumped from a fourth-story window, running barefoot straight to the Rasmus Group headquarters. The security guard was shocked by my pale face and horrific injuries, hurriedly helping me call the police and running to find my family. But in the end, I didn’t see any of my family members. The security guard was fired by Audrey. I was sent back to my abuser’s house by the Rasmus Group’s bodyguards, awaiting me was pepper spray, a waterboarding cell, and being tied up under the sun while the flesh on my back was sliced off piece by piece… The tycoon picked his teeth with a sadistic grin, spat his phlegm on my face. “Miss your family, huh? Here, let me let you hear their voices.” He played a recording on his phone. It had my dad, mom, Holt, and Audrey. “Dad, I heard someone calling herself Carol is at the gate. Shouldn’t you go check it out?” It was Audrey, feigning concern for me. Holt sounded impatient. “What? She ran out? Then just send her back. Is this little thing worth bothering Dad over?” “That’s right, Audrey. You’re just too kind. After all the bullying she did to you back then, a little suffering is good for her.” George echoed. “I bought you a carload of new clothes. Go see if you like them.” From then on, I lost all will to live, only wanting to die. Back to the present. Holt furrowed his brow, his face hesitant. “Dad, the police wouldn’t mess around with someone like this, would they? Should we send someone to check?” Audrey’s face was grim. She picked up her phone and went off to the side, fiddling with it. George scoffed, his face full of disdain. “Silly boy. With AI so prevalent now, who can’t fake an audio clip?” “Don’t let family ties blind you to the truth. A mistake deserves punishment. Why should Audrey be the one to suffer?” Mason, who had been a bit suspicious, immediately lost most of her doubt and turned angry again. “That kid is really something else, deliberately using our concern for her to threaten us!” Holt shook his head, his brow furrowed, expression grave. “Is it real or not?” Just then, Audrey ran over with her phone in hand. “Look! Carol’s Twitter account just followed a celebrity and liked her favorite celebrity’s posts!” Holt grabbed the phone and looked; his face flushed red, he clenched his fist, and the veins on his forehead throbbed. “Great! She fools us and still has the nerve to be on Twitter! It seems the tycoon’s punishment was too light.” Saying this, he walked aside and called the tycoon. “Hey, Mr. Brooks. Yeah, you need to step up the punishment for Carol. Don’t let her have any more of these ridiculous, strange ideas.” I floated in mid-air, shivering in fear at the sound of the tycoon’s voice. But Holt, that Twitter account that belonged to me had long been taken by Audrey to boost her favorite celebrities. And the so-called usage record was clearly staged by her. The truth was, I was already dead, long ago.

After the party ended, the Rasmus family home returned to silence. But that phone call about me was like a needle lodged in everyone’s heart. The usually fastidious George sat on the couch, chain-smoking one cigarette after another, ashes falling all over the floor. Mason held a teacup, the tea long gone, but she mechanically sipped from it, her gaze drifting towards the door. Holt paced back and forth irritably, unlocking and locking his phone, finally slamming his fist against the wall. “What the hell is Carol trying to do now?!” Nobody answered. I just looked at them sorrowfully. Then, the housekeeper came down from upstairs carrying a cardboard box, asking cautiously. “Sir, should I still keep these?” I looked down, and my heart clenched violently. Those were my things. The teddy bear I slept with as a child, the trophy from my first competition, a photo with my parents, the birthday gift Holt bought me, and a diary worn ragged at the edges. George’s face instantly darkened. “Throw it all away.” Mason’s fingers paused slightly, and she said subconsciously, “Maybe we should keep it for now.” A flicker of panic flashed in Audrey’s eyes. She quickly hugged Mason’s arm, her eyes reddening. “Are you still reluctant to let go of Carol?” “It’s actually okay. After all, she’s your biological daughter, and I’m just an outsider…” She lowered her head as she spoke, tears streaming down her face. Holt’s expression changed immediately. He rushed to her and pulled her into his arms. “Nonsense! How can she compare to you!” George was even more furious. “That beast isn’t even fit to lick your boots!” He stood up abruptly, kicking the cardboard box over. “Burn it! Burn every last bit of it!” The contents scattered all over the floor. I watched helplessly as the scarf Mason had knitted for me as a child was trampled into the mud, and the music box Holt gave me shattered into pieces. Finally, the housekeeper took everything to the backyard. The fire burned fiercely, the flames lighting up half the sky. I stood by the fire, staring blankly as those things slowly turned to ash. Mason suddenly spoke. “Carol used to really love that bear.” Holt paused for a moment. George’s face was grim as he snorted. “Love it? Then she shouldn’t have done such shameless things!” But after he finished, the surrounding area fell silent, and nobody spoke. Audrey clenched her hands, her nails digging deep into her palms. George irritably stubbed out his cigarette. The next day, the Rasmus family went to dine at the most exclusive private club in Los Angeles. From the hallway came the loud, drunken laughter of a few men. “I’m telling you, that crippled chick at Mr. Brooks’ place, tsk, an absolute delicacy.” “Not only does she crawl like a dog, but she wiggles her ass. I heard she used to be some Miss Carol or something!” The wine glass in Holt’s hand shattered on the floor. Mason’s face turned ashen, and George froze instantly. I hovered in mid-air, shaking all over. Those men, they were the ones who had brutalized me. Holt suddenly stood up and rushed over, his voice trembling. “Who did you just say?” The men were startled. One of them said drunkenly. “Mr. Brooks’ little plaything. What was her name…” “Oh, yeah. Carol.” A dead silence filled the air. Mason’s legs went weak, almost collapsing to the floor. George’s face was ashen, veins bulging on his forehead. “Say that again?” The man was frightened by them, his drunkenness fading by half. “Just that woman Mr. Brooks keeps. Everyone knows about her.” “I heard she was pregnant several times, all aborted. She even did time for Mr. Brooks…” “Later, she ran away and got caught. Three fingers were chopped off. It’s even more thrilling with a broken body!” Holt’s breathing grew more and more rapid, his eyes bloodshot. “What did she look like?” The man tried hard to remember. “Pretty skinny. Her face was ruined, couldn’t really see clearly. But I heard she used to be really beautiful…” “Her name was something like Carol?” The knife and fork in Mason’s hands clattered to the ground. She began to tremble all over. George’s face was terrifyingly grim, his lips turning white. At that moment, Audrey suddenly stood up, forcing a smile to interrupt. “It definitely wasn’t Carol!” “Lots of people in LA are named Carol. And isn’t she still active on Twitter?” “How could she be as miserable as they say?” She deliberately clung to Mason’s arm, saying softly. “Mom, don’t overthink things. Carol is so smart, she wouldn’t let herself be taken advantage of.” Holt was stunned for a moment. The wavering in George’s face slowly subsided. Right. If it was really me, how could there be no news at all? If it was really me, why would the police only call once? If it was really me, why wouldn’t I come home? They desperately convinced themselves, but once the seed of doubt was planted, it would eventually take root and sprout. I was willing to wait, wait for the day the truth came to light. I could afford to wait. After all, I was already a spirit.

Ever since returning from the club that day, everyone in the Rasmus family had been acting a little strange. Especially Mason, who started having sleepless nights. Sometimes she would wake up in the middle of the night, drenched in a cold sweat, grabbing George and asking. “Hey, you don’t think something really happened to Carol, do you?” George would turn over irritably. “Don’t be so paranoid!” But after he said it, he couldn’t sleep anymore either. On the internet, news about me started popping up out of nowhere. At first, it was just some gossip accounts posting comparison videos. “‘Fake Heiress Audrey is the True Socialite,’ ‘Carol is Evil, Bullies Poor Audrey.’” In the videos, Audrey was gentle, kind, elegant, and noble. And I was edited to look like a vicious, scheming, jealous true heiress. The comment sections were flooded with abuse. “I heard she got kicked out of the house. Serves her right.” “Audrey is so pitiful, being bullied by someone like that for so many years.” Audrey held her phone, unable to suppress the smile at the corner of her mouth. She pretended to be worried. “Mom, Dad, should we clarify? I’m afraid Carol will be sad if she sees this…” Holt sneered. “She has the nerve to be sad?” George even directly told his assistant to fuel the trending topic, pushing the hashtag #Carol The Evil Heiress# to the top. I floated in mid-air, watching those filthy words, my heart felt like it was being carved by a thousand cuts. But slowly, the tide began to turn. Someone anonymously posted a few photos. In a dim basement, a woman covered in blood was kneeling on the ground. She was barely clothed, her left hand was empty, missing three fingers, and her back was covered in crisscrossing wounds. There was also a blurry video clip. In the video, a woman was being forced to crawl through a man’s crotch and bark like a dog. The men around her roared with laughter. And that woman, curled up on the ground like a dying dog. Although her face was mostly hidden by blood and matted hair, anyone familiar with her could still recognize it was me. The internet exploded instantly. “WTF! Is that Carol?” “For real? That’s so brutal.” “I thought it was just running away from home?” “This is a crime!” When Mason scrolled to the video, her face went white as a sheet. Her phone fell to the ground, shattering. Holt stared intently at the screen, his breath ragged. “How is this possible…” George, for the first time, fell silent. The entire living room was deathly quiet. Just then, Audrey suddenly cried out. “Look! There are already people online analyzing it, saying the video was deliberately faked to smear the Rasmus family!” Sure enough, a massive number of accounts started posting like crazy. “‘Secret of the Rich! The Rasmus Family’s True Heiress Suspected of Being Sacrificed’” “‘The Rasmus Family Made Their Fortune Through Dark Arts, Their Biological Daughter Was Used to Ward Off Disaster’” “‘Carol is Dead, Her Vengeful Spirit Appears at the Rasmus Family Home for Revenge.’” The rumors got more and more absurd, and someone even Photoshopped a picture of me, covered in blood, standing in front of the Rasmus family home. For a moment, the entire internet was buzzing, and the Rasmus family actually felt a sense of relief. Yes. With things this ridiculous, it must be fake. Holt irritably turned off his phone. “A bunch of psychos.” George sneered. “I told you someone was deliberately messing with us.” Although Mason’s face still didn’t look good, she reluctantly nodded. Only I was desperately shaking my head. It wasn’t fake. Those wounds were real. That blood was real. Audrey suddenly let out a little “ah!” “Carol’s online on Twitter!”

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The day it went viral online that I’d cheated on my husband, everyone assumed Ethan Vance would divorce me. Yet, he calmly went on a trip with his mistress. When asked about it, he spoke nonchalantly. “Ten years ago, I jumped from the third story of the school building to pursue Anastasia Reed, and broke a leg. She called me a pathetic simp, unworthy of love.” “Ten years later, I’ve ruined her. I’ve trapped her in the marital prison she hates most, making her life a living hell.” “I don’t love her anymore, so how could I care if she cheats?” His words were recorded and sent to me. A thirty-million dollar wager was placed, betting I’d beg for forgiveness within a day. Instead, I calmly dialed the hospital’s body donation program. Ethan didn’t know that on the day he confessed his love to me ten years ago, I dropped out of school and vanished because I’d been diagnosed with a rare disease. Doctors had given me countless death sentences, but my love for him pulled me through time and again. Now, I no longer loved him. A marital prison couldn’t hold a dead woman.

A month after Ethan went traveling with his mistress, I signed the body donation agreement. I calmly packed all my belongings and called the cemetery manager. “Ms. Davies, please buy me that plot.” “Yes, I won’t be burying a body, just some old things.” “Could you please pick up the packed items from Ethan’s villa?” With everything arranged, I transferred the last of my money via PayPal. The moment my account balance hit zero, there was no fear or confusion. Only a sense of peace and release from death. A year ago, I thought my illness was cured. With a mix of hope and trepidation, I returned to New York, hoping to win Ethan back. But I found everything had changed. Ethan hated me. He wished I was dead. He trapped me in the marriage I despised most. Reminding me again and again how much I’d hurt him back then. For a year, I quietly endured it, trying to melt away the hatred between us with love. But I failed. The consequence of that failure was my disease relapsing. This time, Ethan got what he wished for. His screams in bed, asking why I didn’t just die, had finally come true. Forcing myself to ship out the packed items, I swallowed a handful of painkillers. Just as the pain began to subside, my phone rang. Ethan’s Ins feed had updated again. He’d posted countless photos of him and Serena on their trip. They kissed under romantic snow-capped mountains. They planted a pine tree named after them in a vast, endless desert. They went deep-sea diving and took photos with sharks… All the things I had once written in my diary. All the things Ethan had promised to do with me. He had done them, one by one, with Serena. A sharp, stabbing pain pulsed in my chest, and I endured it numbly. Just as I was about to turn off my phone, Ethan’s call came directly through. “Ana Reed, send ten boxes of condoms to the Hilton Hotel.” “Serena is allergic to strawberry-flavored ones. If you mess up again, I’ll tell the vet to stop treating your precious sick dog!” Ethan’s voice was slightly breathless, and if I listened closely, I could hear a woman’s seductive voice. I gripped my phone, it took me a long moment to find my voice. “Ethan, Buddy is already dead…” “Poisoned by your mistress…” A month ago, Ethan held a welcome-home party for Serena. That night, he threw the games in front of me, deliberately losing to her multiple times. The first time, Serena demanded he French-kiss her for three minutes. Before the kiss, he drank the soup I’d spent three hours making for him, then locked lips with Serena, deliberately humiliating me.

The second time, Serena demanded he take off his shirt and leave seven hickeys on his abs, to commemorate their seven years apart. He stood before me, his voice cold, and ordered me to take off the shirt I’d ironed for him that morning. The third time, Serena leaned limply against him, pulling out a hotel key card, and wanted to go to bed with him. He tossed me a black card and told me to personally go buy condoms. I threw the strawberry-flavored condoms from my bag onto the table and walked away. In the middle of the night, Serena had an allergic reaction to strawberry-flavored condoms, went into anaphylactic shock, and was hospitalized. To punish me, he brought a critically ill Buddy home. When I found out, the doctor was telling me the news of my relapse, and Serena called me on FaceTime, laughing. “Ana Reed, I’m so sorry. I accidentally fed your dog rat poison. It died, foaming at the mouth.” My fingers gripping the phone turned white, and a sharp, continuous throbbing pain shot through my chest. Buddy was the dog we’d promised to raise together. Its warm yellow fur was the first color I saw after countless resuscitations. It had accompanied me through the most painful ten years, only to be poisoned to death. Tears streamed down my face. I didn’t wait for Ethan to speak again, hanging up the call immediately. Numbly, I returned to my bed, curling up, trying to draw warmth from around me. Just then, my phone started buzzing with texts, one after another. **[Ana Reed, do you know who orchestrated your affair??]** **[It was Ethan Vance!]** **[He knew you hated cheating most, but for Serena’s amusement, he still did it!]** The anonymous texts. I froze. My eyes were glued to the words: “Ethan orchestrated your affair.” Emotions churned within me, and a metallic taste of blood filled my throat. I once had a happy family. But because my dad cheated, my mom drove us away. The car collided with a semi-truck. My mom shielded me, her body crushed into pieces. That night, my mouth, eyes, and nostrils were all filled with the taste of my mother’s blood. I had once laid bare my deepest vulnerability. Ethan had protected it carefully, treasured it. Now, for Serena’s amusement, he’d used infidelity against me. My whole body spasmed with pain. I didn’t take any more painkillers and finally passed out. The next day when I woke up again, I signed for the euthanasia pills the doctor had sent. I unwrapped the pills and had just put them into my bag. When the villa door was suddenly kicked wide open. “Ana Reed, who told you to send Serena so many strawberry-flavored things!” “Don’t you know her allergy is so severe she couldn’t even stand the smell of strawberries?!” Ethan radiated cold fury, his eyes filled with intense disgust. I froze, then saw Serena, behind him, covering her face, smiling a knowing, meaningful smile. “Ethan, my face is ruined!” “I have to get my revenge…” Before she finished speaking, Serena strode forward. She slapped me, hard, across the face, again and again. “Smack!” “Smack, smack, smack!” My face stung and swelled from the slaps. I leaned against the wall. After collecting myself, I picked up a nearby vase and smashed it over her head. “Crash!” The vase shattered on Serena’s head. I stared intently at Ethan, and asked the question. “Ethan Vance, was that affair, was that all your doing?!” “It was my doing.” “I knew you hated cheating most, I did it on purpose!” “Ana Reed, do you know what I regret most?” “Saving you in sophomore year of high school! I should have let your dad and his mistress beat you to death!”

He spoke each word slowly. Ethan’s eyes harbored deep hatred. He gave me a look of disgust, then stepped back, calling a doctor to bandage Serena up. I slid down the wall to the floor. My heart felt like it was being chiseled open with an axe. In my agony, I finally realized that perhaps I had been wrong ten years ago. My perceived “good intentions” were actually slow poison. Ten years later, the poison took effect. Neither Ethan nor I could escape it. “Ethan, actually ten years ago, I…” Lying on the floor, I forced the metallic taste of blood down and began to speak. The next second, a delicate, fearful voice sounded. “Ethan, my head hurts so much! Come over and look at me!” Serena’s voice cut me off. Ethan walked past me, a sneer on his face as he spoke. “Ana Reed, you want to say you had a hidden reason back then? Do you think I’d believe it?” “Or, to put it another way, can the leg I broke for you just magically reappear?” His cold, mocking words were like a sledgehammer striking my soul. I bit down hard on my lip, looking down at Ethan’s left leg, which moved with an unnatural limp. All strength left my body. Without another word, I slowly stood up to return to the bedroom. But Ethan mocked me again. “Ana Reed, wrongdoers must be punished, didn’t you say that?” “How will you apologize this time?” “I’ll apologize with my death…” I said calmly, my fingers resting on the doorknob. I noticed my fingers, once slender and strong, were now dry and brittle like wood. “Ana Reed, what did you say?!” Ethan grabbed my hand tightly, his voice trembling with anger. “Death? You want to use death to escape your guilt towards me?” “I’m telling you, no way! In this world, as long as I don’t want you dead, you can’t die!” Ethan spoke through gritted teeth, his eyes blazing with fury. I didn’t say a word, calmly letting him hold my arm. Ethan didn’t know that everyone is subject to the natural cycle of life and death; he couldn’t stop it. “Ethan, I remember you broke a leg falling from the third story of the school building trying to pursue Ana Reed. How about we make Ana Reed jump from the third floor of the villa?” “There’s a pool below anyway, she’ll be fine.” After a few seconds of silent stalemate, Serena, her wounds bandaged and her eyes filled with hatred, walked over. She gently tugged Ethan’s arm, whining. “Ethan, just agree! Ana Reed hit my head so hard, she has to apologize to me!” “Plus, I have a photography exhibition soon, and I still need a dramatic diving photo!” Ethan’s grip on my arm tightened, and hatred churned in his eyes. In that moment, I thought he would just strangle me. But a few seconds later, he let out a cold laugh. “Fine!” “Let’s do it!” “I also want to see if our little scaredy-cat, who used to be terrified of heights and water, has overcome it yet?” That familiar nickname echoed in my ears. I clenched my fists and bit down hard on my lip, remaining silent. Ethan, however, smiled and had the bodyguards take me to the third floor of the villa. “Ana Reed, I’ll be waiting for you on the first floor. Don’t disappoint me with your apology…” Forced by the bodyguards to stand by the third-floor window, my whole body trembled. The long-suppressed metallic taste of blood seemed ready to burst forth. “Ana Reed, hurry up! Ethan and I are getting tired of waiting!”

On the ground floor, Ethan and Serena stood side-by-side. I didn’t know what Serena said, but Ethan bent down and kissed her. A sharp pain pierced my heart. I took out the euthanasia pills from my bag, remembering the doctor’s instructions. “Ms. Reed, if you want to go quickly, take this new pill.” “But after taking it, you mustn’t touch water for an hour, or your body will…” The doctor’s horrified expression reappeared in my mind. I held the euthanasia pills, turned, and had a bodyguard call Ethan. “Ethan, can I not jump?” I asked quietly, and Ethan’s sarcastic voice immediately came through. “Ana Reed, are you scared? Want me to give you a push?” “With your fake ashes.” Ethan’s words made my heart clench. Just then, the bodyguard came out carrying the box I’d sent to the cemetery for burial. “Shipping things to be buried in a cemetery?” “Ana Reed, you’re a real comedian.” “And this urn, it looks so convincing. If Serena hadn’t told me your dog was still alive, I would’ve been fooled.” “I’ll give you ten seconds. Jump now, or all these things are going straight into the pool!” His cold words came through the phone. I bit down so hard on my lip, I tasted blood, and was about to speak. But Ethan was already counting down. “Ten!” “Nine!” “Eight!” … Each count, one after another, was like the anesthetist’s countdown before surgery. I smiled through my tears, and agreed, my voice hoarse. “Okay…” The countdown on the phone stopped. Without hesitation, I swallowed the euthanasia pill. I stood on the windowsill. Just as I spread my arms, I heard a startled cry from below. “Ah! I didn’t mean to!” “I just wanted to see what was inside…” Serena’s surprised voice floated up. The small dog urn in Ethan’s hand was knocked over. A gust of wind blew, and the ashes inside scattered into the pool. Gray ashes floated on the surface of the water. Tears rolled down my eyes, blurring my vision. I spoke to Ethan on the phone one last time. “Ethan, after this apology with my death, I’ll owe you nothing anymore…” With that, I leaped from the third floor of the villa. My body plummeted rapidly. The wind whistled past. Memories flashed through my mind. I saw Ethan when we first met, his face radiating a bright, righteous energy, shielding me behind him. I saw Ethan bringing me tampons for the first time, his face flushed, but still asking if I was in pain. I saw Ethan, having written ninety-nine love letters, his eyes filled with love, swearing to love me forever. In the final flicker of my life, I saw the only sweetness in my short life. As my consciousness faded and I hit the pool, I saw twenty-eight-year-old Ethan, his face filled with shock and panic. … By the swimming pool, Ethan’s face was splashed by the water. The icy cold water snapped him back to reality. He looked at the ashes floating in the pool. My words echoed in his mind. For a moment, his mind went blank. “Ethan, Ana Reed’s expression when she jumped was so funny. When I put it in my exhibition, it’s going to go viral!” Serena held her camera, laughing carelessly. “Oh, why isn’t Ana Reed coming up yet? It’s so cold out, we should go back inside!” Serena pulled Ethan, heading towards the villa. But Ethan remained rooted to the spot. His eyes were fixed on the pool.

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My daughter clutched my hand, her body trembling with sobs, as she choked out words into the live camera: “Dear netizens, even if it means giving every last bit of my bone marrow, I will save my dad! He raised me, now I’ll care for him in his old age!” My son stood beside her, eyes red-rimmed, bowing deeply to the camera: “Thank you for all your donations. We’ll sell everything we own to make sure Dad gets better!” The comments instantly flooded the entire screen: “Now *these* are truly filial children! So touching!” “That old man must have done good deeds in his past life to have such amazing kids!” “Already donated! Wishing a speedy recovery to the uncle!” The whole internet envied me, saying I had a pair of devoted children eager to donate their bone marrow. Only I knew they were here to claim my life. The live stream ended, and from the end of the hallway, I heard the siblings’ conversation. There wasn’t a hint of their earlier sobs, only cold calculation: “Bro, I really don’t want to donate bone marrow to that old man. It’ll hurt my body and mess up my wedding photos next month!” “Don’t worry, silly sis, who’s actually going to donate to him? We’ll just tell the netizens the transplant failed due to rejection, and they can’t check the records anyway.” “Oh, right! And when he dies, that downtown apartment of his and his fifty thousand in savings, we’ll split it evenly!” “Plus, the eighty thousand from the netizens’ donations, we’ll divide that too. It’ll be just enough for your wedding fund!” I lay in my hospital bed, listening to them plot how to divide my assets, and quietly activated a hidden live stream. Today, I would expose these “internet’s most filial children” and ruin their lives. 0

My fingertip lightly pressed the frame of my glasses, and the live camera feed synchronized online. The next second, my daughter came over with a bowl. “Dad, let me feed you some chicken noodle soup. I specially made this for you, it’s good for your stomach.” She spoon-fed me, one spoonful at a time, with their camera set up beside her. “As long as my dad gets better, I’ll do anything. I’d trade my life for his.” I looked at the soup offered to my mouth and deliberately knocked the bowl over. The scalding soup spilled all over my daughter. The comments instantly flooded the screen. 【Is this dad sick in the head?! His daughter is so good to him, and he’s still not satisfied!】 【I think he deserves to be sick. This kind of person shouldn’t be a burden to his children anymore.】 Ethan immediately rushed over, gripping my emaciated hand, his voice choked. “Dad, don’t worry, Chloe and I will get you cured, even if we have to sell everything we own.” “We’ve already prepared to donate our bone marrow to you. As soon as you give the go-ahead, the surgery can happen.” Chloe picked up a towel, delicately trying to wipe the soup off me. On camera, she looked patient and kind, but only I knew. Every movement of her hand was so heavy it felt like it could peel off a layer of skin. The comments were still full of angry remarks. 【These children are so incredibly devoted. What bad luck to have a dad like this.】 【The internet’s most filial children, truly deserving of the title.】 Watching their phony act, I spoke. “I suddenly feel like having some pecan pie.” It was a treat I’d been mentioning for years. Chloe immediately nodded. “Dad, don’t worry, I’ll go buy you some right now, the most authentic kind!” She pulled Ethan out, thinking I couldn’t hear them. “Do you even know which bakery’s pecan pie he wants?” Ethan scoffed. “How would I know? Just buy the cheapest pie and bring it back. That old man won’t taste the difference; just get it over with.” Before long, Chloe walked back in with the pie. Comments flashed wildly before my eyes. 【This daughter is too good. What more could the protagonist be unhappy about?】 I merely took a bite, then abruptly threw the box to the floor. Ethan and Chloe immediately surrounded me again. Looking at their feigned concern, then at the barrage of insults in the comments. My heart was calm. I just wanted to see how long they could keep up the act. That night, I was in too much pain to sleep, so I faked a cough and a restless turn. But I heard muffled arguing from outside the hospital room. “Bro, how much longer? I can’t keep this act up, seeing him every day drives me crazy.” It was Chloe’s impatient voice. “Just hold on a little longer. Once that donation money clears, and we get his apartment, we’ll be free.” Ethan whispered. “Don’t mess up, don’t let him find any cracks in our story.” “What if he suddenly gets better?” “Relax, the doctors said his condition has progressed to its advanced stages. He wouldn’t last much longer. Then we’ll just say the bone marrow transplant failed. Netizens will only sympathize with us more.” As soon as he finished speaking, I deliberately coughed loudly a few times. The voices outside instantly vanished. Seconds later, my “children” pushed open the door, their faces again filled with worry. Ethan reached out to feel my forehead, his voice tender. “Dad, are you feeling bad again? We’ll stay with you, don’t be scared.” I lay still in bed, letting them perform. The whole internet was still praising their deep affection. Only I knew that these two were wolves in sheep’s clothing. 0

After that day, Ethan and Chloe constantly talked about taking me for check-ups and pulling strings to find specialists. They put on a show of being devoted children, worried sick about me. But in reality, they deliberately delayed every check-up. They even secretly changed my appointment times. Important bone marrow re-examination dates were secretly changed again and again, postponed repeatedly, and finally, simply missed. I suddenly remembered how before, they’d held up their phones, constantly filming me. Completely ignoring how my skin had already ulcerated from the illness, red and broken in patches. The pain at night was excruciating. The slightest movement tore at my flesh, making even the blanket unbearable. During filming, Chloe would gently dab ointment on my sores, crying into the live stream about how much it pained her to see me suffer. But as soon as the camera was off, they wouldn’t even spare me a glance. I’d whimper in pain, and they’d only complain that I was noisy, that I was a burden, that my rotting appearance was an eyesore. Forget applying medicine or wiping me down; they wouldn’t even bother to hand me a glass of water. One time, I was in such agony that I begged Chloe to help me change a bandage. But she recoiled in disgust, her brows furrowed. “It’s so gross. Don’t touch me. Can’t you just deal with it for a few days? It’s not the first time.” Ethan was even more direct, waving his hand impatiently. “Don’t bother. Medicine isn’t free, you know? Just endure a few days, it’ll pass.” All those tears shed on camera, all that feigned sympathy, were just an act for the netizens. When the doctor made rounds, I pretended to know nothing. “Doctor, why haven’t my last bone marrow re-examination results come back yet?” As soon as I spoke, Ethan’s face changed, and he hurriedly stepped forward to smooth things over. “The doctor is busy; maybe they haven’t sorted them out yet. Dad, don’t worry, we’ll ask them for you.” The doctor frowned, looking puzzled. “The re-examination date was long ago. Didn’t you say the patient wasn’t feeling well and canceled it?” That sentence, clear as day, was recorded verbatim by the camera. The comments were still a chaotic mess, defending them, but my heart had turned to stone. I pretended my phone was dead and reached for Ethan’s phone. “Let me call a relative.” He reluctantly handed it over. My fingers swiftly swiped open his bank statement. A large, unfamiliar transfer stood out, marked as ‘advance payment’. Scrolling further up, recent cash withdrawal records—amounts, times— They perfectly matched the records of my retirement savings that I had secretly checked. My retirement savings were being slowly drained by them. Late at night, I suddenly developed a high fever, my body burning hot. I desperately pressed the call button, the bell ringing repeatedly, but no one came in. Dragging my heavy body, I slowly shuffled out of the hospital room. My “children” were arguing in hushed tones in the hallway. “How much longer do we have to endure this, Bro? I’m really starting to break.” It was Chloe’s annoyed voice. “Just hang in there. This is a critical time. Once this period is over, everything will be fine.” Ethan gently persuaded her. “He’s lucid one moment, confused the next. What if he slips up on camera one day and all our previous efforts go to waste?” “Don’t worry, he’s so far gone, he wouldn’t be able to cause any trouble. Just wait patiently.” After confirming the camera captured their conversation, I quietly retreated back to my room. The comments were silent for a moment before someone hesitantly typed: 【Did anyone just hear voices outside?】 【It sounds like the siblings chatting? Too quiet to hear clearly.】 【They’re probably worried about their dad. Taking care of a sick person is hard work, after all.】 【It sounds a bit like complaining, but that’s normal. Anyone would have complaints after caring for someone for so long.】 Seeing that doubts were finally appearing in the comments, a faint smile touched my lips. This was only day one. These two’s true faces would soon be impossible to hide. 0

The next morning, as soon as I opened my eyes, I saw Ethan and Chloe had already set up their camera and were filming me. The two were chatting and laughing, discussing how much money they could make today. Online, they claimed all that money was for my treatment. But in the end, they were spending all *my* retirement money. And the money they earned from the videos had long since gone into their own pockets. I suddenly raised my hand and fiercely swept the water glass on the nightstand to the floor. Chloe’s face stiffened, then instantly plastered on a smile. “It’s okay, Dad, just an accident. We’ll get you clean sheets right away.” Ethan also leaned in, wiping his eyes for the camera. “As long as Dad is comfortable, we’re willing to endure any hardship.” The comments were full of praise. 【What wonderful children. If it were me, I’d have lost my temper already.】 【This dad is too much trouble.】 The camera turned. They stood with their backs to me, changing the sheets, their voices hushed, yet every word was swallowed by the microphone on my glasses. “Such a hassle. If it weren’t for the traffic and the money, who’d want to wait on this old man?” “Hurry up and change it. Don’t let him cause any more trouble. Once the money is ours, I’ll show him.” The live stream momentarily froze. Finally, a few doubtful comments popped up. 【Wait, I think I heard something?】 【Did I mishear? It sounded like they were badmouthing him?】 They couldn’t see the comments in front of me, so they naturally didn’t know that everything was being recorded by me. Before long, they composed themselves again, holding up a piece of paper to film a video. “Everyone, don’t worry, we found a match! Bone marrow transplant can be arranged soon!” They turned the camera to me. “Dad, you finally have a chance to recover. Then we’ll take you on a world trip, and we won’t have to suffer from illness anymore.” The two wiped away tears, looking as if they’d finally seen light after hardship. “We’re still a bit short on surgery fees. We’ll just work extra shifts and sell everything we can, and we’ll have enough.” Ethan and Chloe finished filming and started editing. The so-called matching report was tossed aside. I clearly saw the blurred handwriting and crooked stamp on it. Seeing this, the comments grew more suspicious. 【It feels like a setup, that report looks fake.】 【These children are completely different when the camera is off, so weird.】 While they were out taking a call, I secretly pressed the doctor’s direct line. My attending physician sounded surprised. “Matching? Both of them failed the matching test a week ago. I thought you already knew.” That single sentence hit me, making my whole body go cold. They never intended to save me. The so-called bone marrow donation was a scam from beginning to end. Before long, Mr. Henderson, an old neighbor, rushed in with fruit. Ethan immediately blocked the doorway, a fake smile on his face. “Uncle, Dad just fell asleep, it’s not convenient to see anyone.” “I’ll just take a quick look, I won’t bother him.” Mr. Henderson insisted on entering. Chloe frantically rushed over, pushing him out while giving Ethan a look. “Quick, cover Dad up properly, don’t let him catch a cold.” She spoke with feigned concern, but her hand pressed hard against my ulcerated skin, making me tremble all over. As soon as Mr. Henderson left and the door closed, Ethan’s face instantly changed. “Dad, please don’t do that again. If outsiders find out anything, won’t all our efforts be wasted?” Chloe also stood by, sighing softly. “We’re doing this for your own good, trying to raise more money for your treatment. If you keep acting like this, it makes things very difficult for us.” “If we weren’t thinking about your apartment and savings, which could support your subsequent treatment, we wouldn’t have to go through all this trouble.” His tone held a hint of subtle menace. “Just rest and recover, don’t overthink things, and don’t say anything to outsiders. It’s better for you, and for us.” I didn’t say a word. And the camera on my glasses clearly captured the impatience in his eyes and the falseness in her voice. At the same time, the live stream, which had remained on, completely exploded with comments. 【That tone just now… that wasn’t concern, was it?】 【His eyes were terrifying, where’s the filial piety? That was clearly a threat!】 【I felt something was off before. They only put on a filial act in front of the camera.】 They didn’t realize the live stream from my glasses had gone out of control. After lecturing me for a few minutes, they slammed the door and left. That night, I pretended to be asleep, closing my eyes and listening to them conspire in low voices outside the hallway. “Once the apartment is successfully transferred to our names, don’t let that old neighbor say anything else, to avoid any further complications.” “Don’t worry. Once the old man… then no one will suspect us.” A chill ran from my feet to the top of my head, freezing my limbs. I lay quietly in bed, watching the now out-of-control comments on the live stream, my mind clear. The real show was just beginning. 0

Over the next few days, I deliberately feigned a worsening condition. They thought I was too disoriented to hear or remember anything, so they stopped being cautious, conversing directly by my bedside. “Bro, he won’t last much longer.” Chloe’s voice was full of impatience. Ethan scoffed, kicking the foot of my bed. “Once he hands over the rest of his retirement savings, we’ll just dispose of him. The apartment and savings will all be ours.” I lay there, my body cold. The glasses camera live-streamed every word, every expression, crystal clear. The comments instantly blew up. 【They’re not even pretending anymore! Are these really his biological children? These are demons!】 【I praised their filial piety before, I must have been blind!】 I appeared unconscious, but secretly, I had already sent the live stream recording, bank statements, and the forged matching report. All of it went to Detective Miller, my retired police uncle. As soon as the message was sent, I clutched the fruit knife I had secretly taken from the cafeteria, hiding it under my pillow. To make one last big score, they decided to host a fully live-streamed “filial piety” birthday celebration on my sixtieth birthday. They would publicly announce a successful bone marrow transplant and share the good news at the banquet to scam more donations. As soon as the banquet ended, they planned to eliminate me. Then they would claim I died on the operating table due to transplant failure. They would walk away scot-free. That day, the hospital room was decorated festively with red. Ethan forced a smile. “Dad, happy sixtieth birthday. May you live a hundred years.” Chloe held her phone, live-streaming. “Thank you, everyone, for your continued support! My dad will be fully recovered soon!” The comments were already flooded with bots. But the viewers of my secret live stream tacitly agreed not to expose their true nature. They, too, wanted to see what these two “children” would do. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a menacing-looking stranger standing outside the door—one of their accomplices. A fellow patient and a few enthusiastic netizens came in to wish me a happy birthday. Someone smiled and asked me, “Uncle, your children are so devoted, you’re truly blessed.” I offered a weak smile and a gentle nod, secretly adjusting the camera to high definition. It captured them exchanging glances with the man outside the door and secretly passing him a note. Chloe brought a cake and held it to my mouth. One whiff told me something was wrong; the cream had a strange smell. I pretended to eat it, but spit it out the moment they turned away. The celebration soon ended, this “filial piety” birthday banquet was a complete success. The final act was over. My “children” stopped bothering to hide their true intentions. Ethan looked at his phone, checking the payouts, and scoffed. “Why were the donations from this live stream so low? But with the previous ones, it’s enough for us to make a clean break and disappear overseas.” Chloe, after seeing off the guests one by one at the door, turned her gaze to me. “We’ve been acting for so long, finally no need to pretend. Old man, you should just accept your fate.” The secret live stream instantly erupted. 【Holy sh*t! They’re completely dropping the act! These two aren’t even human!】 【I pitied them before, now I want to slap myself twice!】 I slowly raised my eyes to them. “You thought I wouldn’t recognize you?” “You are not my son and daughter at all. From the first day you stood by my hospital bed, I knew.” Both of them visibly froze, clearly not expecting me to have known the truth all along. After a brief moment of shock, they burst into arrogant laughter. “Didn’t expect you, old man, to be quite clever. Too bad, what good is knowing? You’re still at our mercy.” I used all my strength to question them. “What did you do to my real children?” Chloe leaned closer to me. “Your good children? They’ve long been buried on some distant hillside, their bones probably rotten by now.” The live stream exploded completely. 【Animals! They’re absolute animals!】 【Call the police! Quick, call the police! These are murderers!】 Ethan saw my face turn pale and my breathing become rapid, assuming the drug in the cake was finally taking effect. He leaned in smugly to provoke me. “They were crying and begging us back then, that sight was much more entertaining than you now.” “Just wait patiently. Once that fake surgery tomorrow is over, you can go join them for a family reunion.” With that, he reached out to tie me up. The moment he came closer, I suddenly pulled out the fruit knife hidden in my sleeve. Using all my strength, I plunged it into Ethan.

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