Author: Momo Chan

End-of-year bonuses were being distributed, and the boss called me into his office alone. He tapped his fingers on the desk, cutting straight to the chase: “Sophia, you’re a key technical asset to the company. For this year’s bonus, I’m giving you three choices.” “First, an apartment in the city center, valued at five million.” “Second, a cash bonus of one million.” “Third, a month’s paid long leave.” I’d dreamed of owning a home in this city my whole life! I decisively declared: “I choose the apartment!” The words had barely left my lips when a flash of cold steel appeared. The boss, Marcus Zane, somehow held a knife, and he just… cut me down. I opened my eyes again, still in the office. Marcus’s voice echoed, word for word: “Sophia, you’re a key technical asset to the company. For this year’s bonus…” Cold sweat instantly drenched my back. I swallowed hard and changed my mind: “I choose the cash!” Another stab, and I died again. The third time I opened my eyes, I looked at Marcus’s half-smile, my voice trembling: “I, I choose a month’s leave…” The knife flashed again, and I was gone. The fourth time I opened my eyes, Marcus was about to speak. I dropped to my knees with a thud. “Boss! What do you want me to choose?!” 1 Across from me, Marcus Zane frowned, then bent down to help me up. “Sophia, why did you suddenly kneel?” I scrambled to my feet, glancing at the clock on the wall. 9:15 AM again. If he hadn’t killed me three times already, I might have actually been moved by his feigned concern for his subordinate. I was shaking uncontrollably. Marcus grinned, a peculiar smile spreading across his face: “Sophia, you’re a key technical asset to the company. For this year’s bonus, I’m giving you three choices. First, an apartment in the city center…” He repeated the three options. “Wait!” I blurted out, interrupting him in a panic. The memory of the previous three lives still stung in my chest. It seemed that to survive, the key lay in how I answered this choice. After much thought, forgoing the bonus altogether should be safe, right? I steeled myself and stated directly: “Mr. Zane, thank you for your generosity. I won’t be taking a bonus this year.” “Uh, I still have work to do, so I’ll just head out…” I turned and walked towards the door, desperate to leave the office. But as soon as I turned, a knife plunged into my heart from behind. As I fell, I saw the blood dripping from Marcus’s knife. He lowered his head and licked a drop of blood that had splattered on his cheek, his lips twisting into a grotesque, sinister grin. Everything went black. I opened my eyes again, back at 9:15 AM. My heart pounded furiously as I stiffly looked up. Marcus sat opposite me. “Sophia, you’re a key technical asset to the company. For this year’s bonus, I’m giving you three choices…” 2 I trembled, succumbing to a wave of despair. All three options were wrong. The fourth time, even not choosing was a dead end. What did he want me to choose for this bonus? Since joining this company, I’d been the first to arrive, the last to leave, working tirelessly, dedicating myself entirely to my tasks. I only took my rightful salary and never actively asked for an annual bonus. Just as I couldn’t wrap my head around it, Marcus repeated that fatal question. I took a deep breath, mustering my courage to look at him: “Mr. Zane, whatever you give, I’ll take. Even if it’s nothing, that’s fine. I’ll leave it all to you!” He paused. This time, he didn’t immediately kill me with the knife. It seemed I’d gambled correctly. Marcus narrowed his eyes, his tone unreadable: “Sophia, the annual bonus is a company benefit for its employees. You’ve generated such significant revenue for the company; it’s what you deserve.” “Every qualifying employee gets a share. Just choose, don’t worry about it. Don’t waste time; others are waiting!” As he spoke, I thought I saw a glint of a knife by his hand. My heart pounded; I had no idea how to choose. Then his phrase, “others are waiting,” abruptly popped into my mind. My heart skipped a beat. Marcus’s secretary, Sarah Hayes, delivered coffee promptly at 9:30 AM every day. If she came in, I could use it as an opportunity to escape. “Sophia! Hurry and choose one, do you want the house or the money…” Marcus’s voice was icy. Cold sweat trickled down my neck, my heart racing. Knock, knock. Two soft taps on the door, like a lifeline I’d seized. I almost instinctively blurted out, “Enter!” Sarah pushed the door open, the aroma of coffee filling the room. “Mr. Zane, your coffee.” Marcus’s words were abruptly cut off, his face livid. I couldn’t worry about that now. With Sarah present, he surely wouldn’t dare to kill me in front of someone else. Seizing this window of opportunity, I abruptly stood up. “Mr. Zane, I’ll step out for now and get back to you about the bonus after I’ve considered it.” As I rushed to the office door, “Ah!” Sarah’s piercing scream echoed behind me. My blood instantly froze. I stopped dead, turning back to see a sight that made my scalp prickle. Marcus’s dagger was plunged into Sarah’s heart. Drops of blood trickled down the blade, crimsoning her white blouse. My mind exploded. Sarah had worked by Marcus’s side for eight years, his most trusted right-hand woman! Her body swayed, then she fell heavily into a pool of blood. I heard her faint voice: “Sophia, run… quick…” Marcus frowned and fiercely stabbed her twice more. Sarah’s body twitched twice, then went completely still. My hand, which had been reaching for the door, fell back in despair. No. Sarah had always been so kind to me. If I escaped now, breaking this death loop, then she would truly be dead. Details of each reincarnation cycle flashed through my mind, and an answer emerged. Perhaps… this was the correct answer to the problem. Before I could even speak it, Marcus’s grotesque face was already inches from mine. “You just said you needed to consider? Then die!” The cold blade sliced across my throat. I died again. 3 Opening my eyes, my first instinct was to touch my neck; my skin was smooth and intact. There was no blood on the floor, no sign of Sarah’s body. The clock on the wall read 9:15 AM. Marcus across from me looked slightly puzzled, then asked if I’d been working overtime. I forced myself to calm down, my hands trembling violently, but I still managed a strained smile: “Yes, Mr. Zane, I had an all-night meeting with overseas clients, so I didn’t rest well.” I responded casually, but my mind was racing. Was Marcus’s purpose in making me choose the bonus merely to find an excuse to kill me? All three options were wrong, and saying “I need to consider” or “I don’t want it” was a definite dead end. This company was the culmination of generations of the Zane family’s hard work. Marcus and I had no grudges; I was his most capable subordinate. Our superior-subordinate relationship was harmonious, with no friction whatsoever. Furthermore, I was the only one in the entire company who could oversee my current project from start to finish. Any slight misstep would lead to astronomical losses, even outright bankruptcy. An answer was gradually forming in my mind. But I needed time to verify its correctness. I took a deep breath, forcing down the surging fear in my heart. Quickly scanning my surroundings, this office was at the very end of the corridor, and the soundproofing was ridiculously good; even if I screamed at the top of my lungs, no one outside would hear. Ten more minutes. Sarah would come in to deliver coffee punctually. This time, I couldn’t repeat the same mistake, and I certainly couldn’t drag her into danger. I subtly slipped my hand into my pocket, preparing to press the emergency alarm on my phone. Empty. My heart suddenly sank as I remembered. In my hurry to get into the office this morning, I had carelessly left my phone on my desk outside. “Sophia, I’m asking you, what do you want for this year’s bonus? An apartment in the city center…” Marcus across from me was still speaking, delivering that deadly question again. I sighed, sliding off my chair onto the floor. Ignoring his words, I started to cry at the top of my lungs: “Mr. Zane, you know I’m an orphan, never had anyone to care for me since childhood. I finally saved up a little money from work, but I haven’t even had a single day to enjoy it…” I sobbed ramblingly, recounting my life from the orphanage to school, from starting work to now. As I cried, I slowly edged towards Marcus’s desk. Marcus tried his best to hide his impatience. “I know you’ve had it tough, which is why the company’s bonus for you is exceptionally generous. Hurry and choose. Once you choose, you can live a good life.” I sneered inwardly. Was a “good life” him sending me to my grave? Just then, a knock sounded at the door. Sarah had arrived. Marcus raised his chin towards the door: “Come back later.” The moment his attention was diverted to the door, I swiftly pressed the emergency call button on the desk. As my finger lifted, I met Marcus’s utterly cold eyes. “What are you doing?” He leaned closer, his figure completely engulfing me, head tilted, a chilling smile on his lips. “Bonus, three choices, what do you pick?” I met his gaze and smiled too. “House, cash, leave—I want all three.” 4 After I voiced my answer, Marcus froze, clearly not expecting me to say that. He said in a strange tone, “A good choice. Too bad, though, you shouldn’t have picked that.” As soon as he finished speaking, he drew his knife and lunged at me. I was prepared, sidestepping to dodge and leaping up to escape. At the same time, Marcus quickly pursued me, closing in rapidly, catching up in a few seconds. Marcus grabbed my throat, and I opened my mouth, biting down hard on his wrist. He cried out, his grip loosening. I seized the opportunity, lunging forward to pick up the knife that had fallen to the floor. However, he spun around quickly, grabbing my wrist, prying my fingers open, and fiercely snatching the knife back. The next second, he raised his hand, aiming for my chest. I desperately dodged. The knife missed by an inch, plunging into my arm, blood splattering. Marcus cursed, kicked me in the stomach, and raised the knife to strike again. Just then, the office door burst open, and two security guards rushed in. Marcus’s hand stopped. Saved! I yelled, “Uncle Robert, Uncle Daniel, help me!” Robert and Daniel were honest and warm-hearted, and they had always treated me very well. They were also skilled in martial arts. Seeing them, I breathed a sigh of relief; with them here, I wouldn’t be killed. The emergency button next to Marcus’s desk led directly to security, summoning them instantly. They stepped forward to help me up. “Mr. Zane, what are you doing?” I shouted at them, “Uncle Robert, Uncle Daniel! Marcus is trying to kill me! He’s a murderer, call the police!” Uncle Robert picked up his phone. “Zane, don’t think you can bully employees just because you’re the boss. I’m calling the police to arrest you…” Marcus unhurriedly leaned back in his executive chair. “Uncle Robert, Uncle Daniel, what do you want for this year’s bonus? I have three options…” As he spoke, my arm was suddenly gripped tight. Robert and Daniel held me firmly from behind. Their strength was terrifying; with a crack, my bone was snapped. The pain made my vision go black, but I gritted my teeth and turned my head. Uncle Daniel’s face was streaked with tears. “I’m sorry, Sophia. If you don’t die, we will.” But why?! Why were they so afraid when they heard that question? And why did I have to die? Marcus rose, a cruel grin on his face, stepping towards me. Just as the knife tip was about to slice my throat, the office door was pushed open again. “Mr. Zane, your coffee…” Sarah stood at the doorway, holding a cup of coffee. Her eyes swept over everything in the room, and the coffee cup in her hand clattered to the floor. She froze for two seconds, then turned and bolted out the door, screaming, “Murder! Help me!” Robert and Daniel chased after her, grabbing her hair, covering her mouth, and roughly dragging her back. I don’t know where I found the strength, but I lunged, biting down on Uncle Robert’s hand, tearing off a piece of flesh. “Sarah, run! Don’t mind me!” Robert and Daniel had to turn their attention to me, but I was too tenacious, allowing Sarah to break free. But she only ran a few steps before Marcus caught her again. Sarah and I were locked back in the office. Marcus’s gaze darted between us, as if deciding who to kill first. Sarah’s shoulders hunched together; I could clearly hear her teeth chattering. I lifted my head, spitting fiercely at Marcus. “Sarah is innocent! Let her go! Otherwise, I’ll haunt you even as a ghost!” Sure enough, he savagely grabbed me. I quickly dodged to the side, avoiding his hand. My ankle twisted, and I slammed hard against the desk. In my line of sight, I happened to see the annual performance report on the table. I finally understood why Marcus was so desperate to kill me, and why he forced me to choose from those bonus options…

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1 I saw the box of condoms in Simon’s bag, and my hands started to tremble. Married for seven years, we’d been sleeping in separate rooms for three. His mother said I was paranoid. His sister rolled her eyes: “My brother works overtime every day; how would he have time to cheat? Are you okay, sister-in-law?” Simon stood by, saying nothing. I didn’t make a scene either. That night, I packed my bags. The next day, I slapped the divorce papers onto his office desk. He froze: “Just because of a box of condoms? I told you, a colleague left it in my car.” “Fine,” I nodded. “Then let that colleague explain it to me.” He fell silent. His entire family took turns trying to persuade me not to be “difficult.” My mother even called: “He doesn’t hit you, he doesn’t curse you, and he gives you all his earnings. What more do you want?” What do I want? I just suddenly remembered that on our wedding night, when he was drunk, he’d hugged me and called out another name. I pretended not to hear. I pretended for seven years. … I’d taken a photo of that box of condoms and saved it on my phone. A pack of three, one opened, two remaining. I hadn’t used them. Simon never had the chance to use them either. It wasn’t that I wasn’t willing; he always had an excuse. Overtime fatigue, too much drinking at client dinners, an early start tomorrow. Eventually, he stopped even making excuses, just showered and went into the guest room, shutting the door. Before I fell asleep, I’d hear the sound of short videos from there, sometimes the same video on repeat several times, sometimes him sending voice messages, his voice kept very low. I never asked him who he was talking to. Asking would only make it seem like I cared too much. When his mother came to persuade me, I was tidying his closet. She sat on the edge of the bed, watching me fold his winter sweaters one by one, her mouth never still: “Honestly, you, living a perfectly good life, insisting on causing trouble. You know what Simon’s temper is like, don’t you? If he were really doing something, would he let you find that?!” I didn’t speak. She continued: “I asked him, and he said it was a colleague’s. The colleague was in his car and left it there. Men, you know, a simple explanation for something like that should be enough, but you keep harping on it. Of course he’s annoyed with you.” I put a sweater into a storage bin and looked up at her. “Mom, what kind of colleague leaves condoms in someone else’s car?” She froze for a second, her expression shifting, then she stood up to leave. At the doorway, she tossed back: “You always want to think the worst. I can’t be bothered with you.” His sister was even more direct. She posted a long message in the family group chat. I didn’t read it all, only scanned the last few lines: “…sister-in-law, don’t be too much. If my brother really had someone else, he’d have divorced you already. Would he need to hide it? Do you think you’re so special?” I left the group. Simon came home very late that night, past eleven. I was sitting in the living room, the TV on without sound. He saw me when he took off his shoes, paused, said nothing, and walked straight to the guest room. “Simon,” I called him. He stopped, not turning around. “That box of condoms, whose was it?” He was silent for a few seconds, then turned. On his face was the same gentle, flawless expression I’d seen for seven years. “I told you, it was a colleague’s. A Mr. Brooks, you’ve met him. The one who sat next to me at the company dinner last time.” I looked at him. He looked back at me, his gaze open and honest. So honest that I almost believed him. “Then have him tell me,” I said. “Right now, call him.” His brow furrowed, that gentleness finally cracking. “Are you crazy?” I didn’t say anything. He continued: “I explained, but you don’t believe me, insisting on making such a scene? It’s just a box of condoms. I didn’t actually do anything. Is it really worth this?” Just a box of condoms. I didn’t actually do anything. I stared at his face, suddenly feeling like he was a stranger. Seven years ago, on our wedding day, he was drunk. In our bridal suite, he hugged me and called out “Ava.” Not my name. I froze, and he froze too. In that instant, his eyes cleared for a second, then he hugged me tighter, mumbling he was just drunk, not to take it seriously. I did take it seriously. But I never asked. Ava, I found out later, was his college girlfriend. They dated for three or four years, broke up after graduation. I’d seen photos: round face, single eyelids, eyes curving into two lines when she smiled. Completely different from me. I thought marriage would fix things. Hearts are made of flesh and blood; with time, they warm up. I cooked for him, washed his clothes, bore him a son, and cared for his mother. The month his mother was hospitalized, I rushed to the hospital every day after work. Even the family members of the patient in the next bed praised my filial piety. He held my hand then and said, “You’ve worked so hard.” I thought he was sincere. Now, looking back, it might have just been politeness. I wrote the divorce papers myself. I found a template online, tweaked a few things, and printed out two copies. He came home early that day, saw the documents on the coffee table, and picked them up to read. “Are you serious?” “Yes.” He put the papers down, sat opposite me, and lit a cigarette. We’d been married for seven years; he never smoked inside the house. “Fine,” he said, exhaling smoke. “What do you want? Just say it.” I looked at him, my eyes suddenly burning. Not with sadness. But with the realization of my own foolishness. He didn’t even try to stop me. “I don’t want anything,” I said. “Our son stays with me. You can keep everything else.” He paused. “You don’t want anything?” “No.” He took another puff of his cigarette, then fell silent. After a long time, he stubbed the cigarette out in the ashtray, stood up, and walked towards the guest room. At the doorway, he stopped. “That box of condoms,” he said, his back to me, his voice very low, “it was hers.” I clenched my fingers. “Her name is Ava.” I knew. “We’ve been together for six months. I didn’t mean to hide it from you; I just didn’t know how to tell you.” I closed my eyes. “Is there anything else you want to ask?” I shook my head. He couldn’t see, but he seemed to sense it. He pushed the door open and went into the guest room. The door closed softly. I sat in the living room for a long time, the TV still silent. Later, I stood up and stood by the guest room door for a while. No sound from inside. I went back to the master bedroom and locked the door. The next morning, he left for work. I heard him open the front door, then soft footsteps, stopping at the master bedroom door. He waited a few seconds. Then he left. I stayed in bed until noon, then got up and glanced into the guest room. The blanket was neatly folded. On the bedside table lay the divorce papers, signed. A box of cigarettes was tucked next to it. I picked it up; it was empty. The ashtray was full of butts. 2 The day I moved out, his mother called. I had just stuffed my suitcase into the trunk when my phone vibrated in my bag. I pulled it out; her name. I answered. Before I could speak, she launched into it. “You think you’re so tough now, don’t you? Just up and leave, did you even ask the Campbell family?” I leaned against the car door, looking up at the window of the apartment we’d lived in for seven years. The curtains were drawn. “How has Simon ever wronged you? He gives you his paychecks, never goes out womanizing, just lies around at home—that’s because he’s tired! But you, you find one little thing and cause a scene, making such a fuss that you divorce. How do you expect relatives and friends to look at our family?” I said, “Mom, he cheated.” There was a second of silence. “Cheated on what? He didn’t do anything with that woman, just chatted and had meals. He told me himself. Men, you know, it’s normal to have someone to talk to outside. You’re always at home, controlling everything. He’s under a lot of pressure; what’s wrong with him finding someone to confide in?” I gripped my phone, my fingers a little stiff. “He said they didn’t have sex. Those condoms were bought but not used. You didn’t catch him in the act, so why are you making accusations?” I wanted to say, not used because he didn’t have time to use them yet, right? But I didn’t. It wouldn’t have made a difference. “Alright, alright, if you want to divorce, then divorce. Don’t regret it later. With your temper, who would ever want you?” The call ended. I stood for a moment, then tossed my phone into my bag, got in the car, and started the engine. As I drove out of the complex, the window in the rearview mirror grew smaller and smaller. I didn’t cry. Later, I learned that his mother’s words weren’t just spoken in anger. She truly believed no one would want me. The day the divorce was finalized, I ran into his sister at the registry office. She was arm-in-arm with her boyfriend. They had just gotten their marriage certificate, smiles on their faces. When she saw me, her smile faltered, then she rolled her eyes. “Oh, sister-in-law—no, ex-sister-in-law,” she intentionally drew out the words. “Today’s a good day, we both got our papers.” I ignored her and walked past. She scoffed behind me, her voice not too loud, but just enough for me to hear: “Keep acting up, you’ll end up a two-time divorcee. See who wants you then.” I stopped. Turned to look at her. She seemed a little nervous, hiding behind her boyfriend. I didn’t say anything, just turned and got in my car. Actually, I couldn’t blame her for saying that. The Campbells had always spoken that way. The first year of marriage, his mother and I argued over a small matter. His sister chimed in, telling me, an outsider, not to be ungrateful. Simon was standing there then, and he didn’t say a word. Later, I asked him, “Your sister said I was an outsider, why didn’t you say anything?” He said, “That’s just how she is. Don’t pay her any mind.” I said, “Then what am I?” He looked at me, a hint of helplessness in his eyes. “You’re my wife.” I believed him then.

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1 The day before the wedding, Eric accompanied me to the bridal shop to pick out my gown. I had just stepped out of the fitting room. Eric, in a rush, stripped off his suit jacket, turning to leave. “Manon is in trouble. Ava can’t handle it alone. I need to get to the hospital. Tomorrow’s wedding is off.” Once, I would have stopped him, demanding to know who was more important: Ava and her daughter, or me. But this time, watching his retreating back, I didn’t try to hold him back. This was the ninety-ninth time he had canceled our wedding for Ava and Manon. Half an hour later, Ava updated her social media. [You are my only reliance in this world.] The photo in the post showed Eric hugging Ava, with Manon calling out “Mommy, Daddy.” They looked exactly like a family of three. My parents sighed helplessly at this. “Summer, is the wedding canceled again tomorrow? But we’ve already sent out the invitations.” My expression was calm as I shook my head. “The wedding will proceed as planned. My groom isn’t him.” … Hearing my words, Mom quickly pulled out spare invitations from her bag. Dad’s gaze fell on the groom’s name section. Both of them visibly relaxed. “If you’re marrying him, your dad and I will finally be at ease.” “Summer, Dad always said Eric wasn’t worth your lifelong trust. You’ve finally realized it.” Some people only learn the hard way. This time, I chose to let go. After settling on the gown, Eric happened to call. “I remember you always wanted to check out that popular internet-famous Western restaurant downtown. I specifically found a scalper to book a table for lunch.” I originally wanted to refuse. But thinking of our six years together, it should at least end with some dignity. I walked to the entrance of the Western restaurant. Eric reached out to take my bag, his other hand instinctively reaching for my waist. I avoided his touch and walked straight into the restaurant. Watching his hand hang awkwardly in the air, his brow furrowed, a hint of impatience in his voice. “Summer, don’t throw a tantrum.” “Manon suddenly fell ill. Ava had no one else to call but me.” “You know, I promised Brandon before he passed away that I would take care of Ava and Manon.” I didn’t respond, sitting down to browse the menu. He sat beside me, irritably tugging at his tie. “A promise made is a debt unpaid. You wouldn’t want a man who goes back on his word, would you?” I took out my phone to scan the QR code and order. He waited a moment, and seeing my continued silence, he sighed deeply. “Alright, don’t be angry. The next wedding definitely won’t be canceled again. I said I’d give you the perfect wedding, and I won’t break my promise.” But his promises only applied to Ava and Manon. I always had to make concessions for them. Just then, a waiter approached. “Miss, excuse me, your table has already ordered a four-person meal. Adding more might be too much. Do you need me to cancel it?” Before I could react, a familiar female voice sounded behind me. “The line for the restroom was too long. Summer, you’ve waited a while, haven’t you?” Ava, holding Manon’s hand, walked towards us. She sat on Eric’s other side, while Manon squeezed into the space between Eric and me. I froze for a moment. Eric opened his mouth to speak, but Ava quickly interjected. “It’s all Eric’s fault. I just mentioned wanting to try this Western restaurant, and he remembered, even paying three times the price for scalped tickets.” “Summer, you don’t need to cancel your order. Eat what you want.” Watching her assert her dominance, I couldn’t help but smile wryly. In the past, I thought Eric didn’t understand Ava’s intentions and tactics. Now, it seemed he had always enjoyed the thrill of being fought over by us. I looked at the waiter beside me. “Cancel it…” “Ah—it hurts so much! Daddy, Aunt Summer pinched my arm and made it swell!” 2 Manon lifted her swollen, red arm, crying hysterically. “Summer, if you have any complaints with me, come at me directly. Why are you bullying a child? Children are innocent.” Ava’s eyes were red-rimmed, filled with hurt and helplessness as she looked at Eric. “Eric, thank you for taking care of us all these years. Let’s not see each other again. If she dares to abuse a child right in front of you, I can’t imagine what might happen later…” As she spoke, she took Manon’s hand, about to leave. Manon tugged at Eric’s jacket, refusing to let go. “I don’t want to leave Daddy. I want Daddy and Mommy to be together forever. Aunt Summer is a bad person; she wants to steal my Daddy.” The commotion at our table instantly attracted the attention of other diners. Several influencers, live-streaming, immediately raised their phones, aiming the cameras at my face. “Folks, I came to review a restaurant and ended up witnessing a mistress provoking the legitimate wife. Quick, screenshot this mistress’s face so she doesn’t steal your husband.” “That poor child! The mistress dares to abuse a child right in front of the parents. Imagine what she’d be like as a stepmother!” The waiter, who had been kind to me earlier, also turned cold. “Miss, please leave. Our restaurant does not welcome mistresses!” As the situation escalated, I looked at Eric with a pleading gaze, hoping he would step forward to explain for me. But he only shot me a cold glance. “Summer, Manon is just a child. How could you lay a hand on her?” “Eric, I didn’t pinch her.” I pointed to the security camera above our heads. “If you don’t believe me, go check the surveillance footage now.” No sooner had I finished speaking than Manon suddenly fainted to the floor. “Eric, Manon fainted! Quickly, take Manon to the hospital!” Ava screamed. Eric scooped up Manon and rushed towards the door. As he passed through the glass door, he paused and looked back at me. I was surrounded by the live-streaming influencers and “justice-seeking” customers. All sorts of insults rained down on me. Just as I thought Eric had had a change of heart, he suddenly spoke. “Summer, I never thought you could be so vicious. Come back to me when you realize your mistake.” With that, he left without looking back. He left me alone to face the insults of the influencers and passersby. Finally, a customer who couldn’t stand it anymore called the police, and I was able to leave the restaurant. Greasy soup dripped down my hair, and my white dress was stained with food, emitting a foul odor. No taxi driver was willing to take me, so I had to walk home. Pushing open the front door, Eric sat on the living room sofa, smoking. Even though he tried his best to control his expression, I still saw the disgust in his eyes. “You’re back?” I looked at him calmly. “Eric, let’s end this.” His hand, holding the cigarette, paused. He stood up and walked towards me. “Is it because of what happened at lunch?” He stared at my face, took a deep drag of his cigarette, then exhaled a plume of smoke. “Summer, I thought you could understand the situation. If I had clarified for you in the restaurant, Ava and Manon would have been the ones hurt.” “Besides, this is all because you were unreasonably jealous and hurt Manon. You brought this upon yourself; you can’t blame anyone else.” “Manon has already forgiven you, and Ava said she won’t hold it against you. Let’s just let this go.” With that, he raised his hand, intending to stroke my head. But he quickly retracted it when he noticed the stains. “You should go clean yourself up first.” “Eric.” Watching his back as he turned away, I took a deep breath. “Tomorrow is my wedding.” 3 He stopped walking abruptly, then spun around. His patience was clearly at an end. “You know Manon needs round-the-clock care for a week every time she gets sick. How can I have time to marry you tomorrow?” “Summer, can’t you be a little more understanding?” I looked at him expressionlessly. “I’m informing you, not asking for your permission.” His face darkened. “Can you stop being so unreasonable? I told you, I’m busy tomorrow.” “If you want to have a wedding without a groom, go right ahead. It’ll be you and your parents who are humiliated then!” I clenched my fists, meeting his gaze. “My wedding doesn’t need you.” He suddenly laughed. “Summer, besides me, who else would marry you?” The words had barely left his lips when a loud crash suddenly came from the nursery. My heart tightened. I quickly walked to the nursery and pushed open the door. Plush toys were scattered across the floor, and a small outfit my mother had sewn was shredded into rags. Manon sat on the children’s bed that my father had built. Broken jars and powder were scattered at Ava’s feet. Her tear-filled eyes blinked, her face etched with helplessness and fear. “I accidentally broke this jar.” Eric rushed over, bumping past me, who was blocking the doorway, and took Ava’s hands. “Ava, are you hurt?” Ava’s gaze slid past Eric, giving me a challenging smile. I knew she did it on purpose. But I couldn’t control myself and rushed forward, slapping her. Ava clutched her red and swollen face, her voice choked with grievance. “I’m sorry, I just saw dust on the jar and wanted to help wipe it clean. I didn’t mean to drop it, I really wasn’t trying to…” Eric grabbed my arm, forcing me to bow to Ava. “Summer, you’ve gone too far! Apologize!” “Eric, that was our child!” Two years ago, Eric and I had a child. The jar Ava broke was our child’s urn. Manon, sensing Ava’s unspoken cue, covered her ears and screamed, running out of the room. “Manon!” Ava followed her out. Eric’s face was grim. “Look what you’ve done! How can a dead person be more important than a living one? Did you really have to resort to violence?” I stared incredulously into his eyes. “Eric, you know what the nursery means to me. That was your child. How could you…” “Summer!” He sharply interrupted me. “If you hadn’t bullied Manon this afternoon, would I have had to bring her home to comfort her? Everything I’m doing is to atone for your sins.” Just then, Ava’s sobs suddenly drifted in from outside. Eric instantly panicked, violently shaking off my arm, and swiftly ran out. Unprepared, I fell to the floor. My forehead hit the ground, and everything went dark. The memory of that torrential downpour two years ago suddenly flashed in my mind. A phone call from Ava had pulled Eric away, leaving me, five months pregnant, on the roadside in the pouring rain. A drunk driver, speeding, crashed straight into me. That night, Eric knelt by my hospital bed, slapping himself repeatedly, begging for my forgiveness. “I’m sorry, I was wrong. I never expected an accident to happen.” “I just didn’t want to let down Brandon’s dying wish. I never meant to hurt you.” “Summer, I let you and our child down. After we get married, we’ll try for another child. They’ll come back to us.” That time, I forgave him again. But now he was saying our child was less important than Ava and Manon. “Summer.” Eric’s face suddenly loomed large before me. Just as I blinked, trying to distinguish between a dream hallucination and reality, Manon suddenly came closer. “See? I told you Aunt Summer was faking it.” 4 Seeing my eyes clear, Eric immediately stood up and shielded Manon behind him, as if afraid I would resort to violence again. I got up, but before I could speak, Ava quickly walked forward and knelt before me. “It was wrong of me to break the urn. If you want to hit or scold someone, come at me. Manon is innocent; she’s just a child. Please don’t hurt her.” Eric pulled Ava up, his face livid. “Summer, don’t push it too far! First, you resorted to violence, and now you’re making someone kneel to you. What exactly do you want?” “You’re the one in the wrong. Why aren’t you apologizing and admitting your mistake?” “I was wrong.” A sarcastic smile played on my lips. I was blind and foolish, falling for the wrong person, causing my parents to worry about me. “I’m sorry.” I was tired; I didn’t want to be entangled with them anymore. Eric was visibly stunned. I had never backed down in arguments with Ava and Manon. My apology made him inexplicably flustered, his voice softening a few degrees. “I’m not really blaming you. Just don’t act so impulsively next time.” A hint of unwillingness flashed in Ava’s eyes, and she tugged at Eric’s sleeve, aggrieved. “Eric, since this nursery is where the ashes are kept, let’s not stay here. I’m afraid Manon will have nightmares sleeping here.” “Manon and I should go back home. I’m just worried Manon might suddenly get sick…” “I’ll go back with you.” Eric blurted out, but seeing my gaze, he looked a little guilty. “Manon’s condition gets very serious when she’s sick, and Ava can’t take care of her alone. I’ll stay with them during the day and come home at night.” I nodded indifferently and turned to walk towards the bedroom. Soon after, the front door closed. The three of them had left. Looking at the wedding decorations filling the house, I only felt irony. After a hot shower, I sent a message to the real estate agent, putting the wedding house up for sale. The house was bought by my parents for Eric and me. Since I had decided to separate, I no longer needed this house. Then I started packing my luggage. In the evening, Eric sent a message. [Manon got sick again. I won’t be home tonight. You don’t need to leave a light on for me. Get some good rest. Love you.] Immediately after, Ava updated her social media. [My daughter just mentioned wanting to see fireworks, and he drove three hundred kilometers to bring us here.] The accompanying photo showed Manon riding on Eric’s shoulders, watching fireworks. I “liked” the post, then picked up my luggage and left. That night, the video of me being called a mistress at the internet-famous Western restaurant went viral. Many relatives and friends who recognized me came forward to explain on my behalf. Public opinion instantly reversed. Overwhelming insults turned towards Ava and Manon. Just then, Eric suddenly called, his voice filled with anger. “Summer, you’re truly two-faced. Apologizing during the day, then instigating your relatives and friends to slander Ava and Manon online at night.” “If anything happens to Ava and Manon because of your malicious intent, I will absolutely never forgive you!” Before I could explain, he hung up. Five minutes later, Eric started a live stream to clarify things for Ava and Manon. “Hello everyone, I am the person involved in today’s trending topic. Ava is my wife, and Manon is my daughter. Please do not harm them.” “Summer and I are merely friends. I’m not sure why she would ask people to spread rumors about our relationship online.” After the live stream, Eric sent a text message. [I promised Brandon I would take care of Ava and Manon. Only by saying this will netizens leave them alone.] [Don’t look at online messages recently. Netizens have short memories; in a few days, no one will recognize you.] I looked at his message and cried, laughing. The last trace of affection dissipated with those tears. The next morning, Eric returned home to find the password lock changed. He immediately called me to demand an explanation. “Summer, what kind of fit are you throwing now? What do you mean by changing the front door password lock?” “Do you even want me to marry you anymore?” But a light laugh came from the other end of the line. “Buddy, who are you? My wife, you think you have any right to marry her?”

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1 On the night of our seventh anniversary, I got down on one knee to propose to my girlfriend. In response, her personal assistant dragged out a massive carnival prize wheel for the tenth time to decide my fate. Once again, the ticking needle bypassed the “Engagement” slot. It clattered to a stop on a punishment: Lick the assistant’s shoes. “Oh well. Since you look so pathetic, I will give you a consolation prize.” Victoria smiled down at me. “Just finish this little punishment, and I will finally agree to marry you.” Her assistant, Simon, deliberately shoved his leather shoe into a nearby trash can, scraping it against the grime before holding it out to me. The entire banquet hall erupted into roaring laughter. Every single guest expected me to obey. After all, marrying Victoria Harrington was the ultimate dream I had bled for over the past seven years. But as the laughter echoed off the crystal chandeliers, a sudden, crushing exhaustion washed over me. I dropped the velvet ring box. I dropped the bouquet of red roses. “Victoria.” “I don’t want to marry you anymore.” Dead silence fell over the room. Victoria simply smirked. She reached out, tilting my chin up with a manicured finger. “Wow. Is my little puppy learning how to bark?” “The whole world knows that marrying me is your life’s singular purpose.” She was always like this. Completely dismissive of my actual feelings. But even a pet dog gets taken to the vet when it is sick. She just watched me bleed. Sensing the mood, Simon stepped forward. “Get on your knees and lick the shoe, Rowan. This is your final test. Don’t drop the ball now.” The momentarily quiet crowd burst into laughter all over again. “Is it really the final test?” I clenched my fists, locking eyes with Victoria. “If I pass the engagement test, will there be a wedding photoshoot test? If I pass that, will there be a pre-wedding test? A marriage certificate test?” In the beginning, Victoria used to bury her face in my chest and cry about her past. She told me her toxic ex had destroyed her ability to trust. She said she stopped believing in love until she met me. She begged me to prove that I could withstand the test of time. For seven years, she pushed me away hundreds of times. I never left. I stood by her like a stone pillar. Eventually, I thought I had proven myself. I proposed. Instead of a yes, she listened to Simon and brought out that twisted roulette wheel. Let fate decide, she said. The chance of the needle landing on “Accept Proposal” was exactly one percent. The other ninety-nine percent were humiliating punishments, all centered around serving Simon. One time, the wheel decreed I had to be Simon’s errand boy. He treated me worse than a stray animal. I fetched his coffee. I stood outside the restroom stall to hand him toilet paper. I was forced to be his driver and denied food for a whole day. At a business dinner that night, he made me take all his shots. I drank until my stomach hemorrhaged. When Victoria visited me in the hospital, she didn’t reprimand Simon. She just sighed and said, “A bet is a bet. Let’s hope fate is on your side next time you propose.” I used to think fate would eventually throw me a bone. I used to think Victoria would finally see my devotion, or at least pity me. So, I meticulously planned another proposal. And failed again. I drew a punishment to scrub the corporate bathrooms for a month, with Simon as my supervisor. Even when I polished the tiles until they mirrored the ceiling, Simon found flaws. Every employee who walked past snickered at me. They whispered that the Vice President of the company lived worse than a dog. When Victoria heard the gossip, she did nothing. Instead, she temporarily stripped me of my VP title and gave it to Simon. She took him to every high-profile gala. He basked in the spotlight while I scrubbed urinals. When I finally broke down and asked her why, she looked at me with disappointment. “Rowan, it is not that I don’t care. I just have to maintain absolute fairness in front of the company. After seven years together, can’t you understand my position? Be a good puppy and just obey.” Looking at her disappointed eyes, I actually brainwashed myself into thinking I hadn’t done enough. The cycle repeated. Until yesterday, when I accidentally overheard a conversation between her and Simon. 2 “Boss, if Rowan actually hits that one percent chance someday, will you really marry him?” Simon asked. “You don’t have to call me boss in private.” Victoria laughed lightly. “I am the heiress to a corporate empire. Rowan is a nobody from a working-class family.” “What right does he have to marry me?” “You grew up with me. You are my father’s most trusted aide. You are out of his league by a mile. Even if he gets lucky and lands on the engagement slot, there are still wedding photos, the license, the ceremony. I can easily create a new hurdle at every step.” Simon chuckled, his voice thick with excitement. “I will make sure to work hard on those hurdles, then.” That night, a drunk Victoria leaned into Simon’s embrace. And I stood frozen outside the door, feeling my heart shatter into dust. This pathetic, self-sacrificing illusion of love was nothing but a sick joke. I was done. So tonight, this tenth proposal was my final, exhausted act of rebellion. Back in the banquet hall, Victoria ignored my question. Her posture grew even more arrogant. “Rowan!” “When we first got together, I told you I was highly sensitive. I need constant proof of your sincerity. Now, things get a little tough, and you want to quit? You are nothing but a total hypocrite!” Her beautiful eyes glared at me with pure venom. “If you truly love Victoria, you should accept everything about her, shouldn’t you?” Simon chimed in, fanning the flames. “Looking at you now, your devotion is totally fake.” A hollow laugh escaped my lips. What the hell counted as sincere? Did I need to carve my chest open and hand them my beating heart? What kind of fake lover would endure a highly volatile woman who threatened to break up hundreds of times over seven years? What kind of hypocrite swallows his pride to propose ten times in the face of public humiliation? The words reached the tip of my tongue, but I swallowed them back down. Debating with them was pointless. I turned around and walked toward the exit in silence. “Rowan!” Victoria suddenly panicked. She lunged forward, grabbing my arm. Her voice dropped into a cold threat. “You can walk out that door. But if you do, you forfeit everything you have right now.” I stopped in my tracks. “After seven years together.” I looked at her. “Do you really think I stayed with you for the money?” Victoria lifted her chin, her lips curling into a sneer. “What else could it be? My father introduced me to dozens of billionaire heirs. None of them could handle my temper for more than a few days before running for the hills. Why did a broke loser like you stick around? If it isn’t for the money, what is it?” Once upon a time, she used to curl up in my arms like a kitten and say, Rowan, your love is the only pure thing in my life. You don’t want anything from me. I will cherish this forever. Now, the veil was ripped away. Every word she just spoke was her true, ugly reality. “Let everyone here be my witness.” I took a deep breath, scanning the faces of the whispering guests before locking eyes with Victoria one last time. “I announce that as of today, I am walking away from everything.” With that, I ripped my arm out of her grip and walked out. I didn’t look back once. Behind me, Victoria’s hands balled into tight fists. Simon leaned in to comfort her. “Don’t worry. It is easy to go from rags to riches, but impossible to go back. Give Rowan a few days. He will come crawling back to beg for forgiveness.” “I heard a new Michelin-star restaurant opened downtown. Let’s go grab a bite!” The surrounding crowd eagerly agreed. Victoria finally nodded. But they were wrong. I had never lived a life of luxury. 3 Since the day I met Victoria, I never asked her for a single expensive gift. My salary was standard market rate for my position. To prove I was worthy of her, I worked myself to the bone. I secured over a dozen massive contracts for her company. My industry peers called me a workaholic machine. Several rival conglomerates had even secretly offered me lucrative positions. When I got back to my apartment, I dragged out a heavy cardboard box filled with leather-bound journals and tossed them into a metal fire pit. Years ago, Victoria demanded I write down every little detail of our relationship, claiming we would read them together when we grew old. Now, staring at pages filled with my desperate devotion, I just felt nauseous. As the journals turned to gray ash, I finished packing my single suitcase. Just then, the front door clicked open. Simon walked in, supporting a heavily intoxicated Victoria. “Rowan.” “You never deserved her. You were just a temporary toy for when she was in a bad mood.” “I am the man she is going to marry. The entire Harrington family approves of me.” Simon pointed to a dark purple hickey on his neck. “See this? Here is the proof.” I always knew there was something going on between them. Victoria’s constant defense of Simon made it obvious. I just never realized the full extent of her cruelty. She was stringing me along for a sick power trip while sleeping with him behind my back. “If you know what is good for you, pack your trash and leave. Stop playing these pathetic hard-to-get games,” Simon sneered before strutting out the door. “Rowan!” Victoria, slumped on the sofa, blindly reached out and grabbed my wrist. She mumbled, “Where is my hangover soup? Why haven’t you made it yet?” “There will never be another bowl of soup.” I shook my head and reached for my suitcase. Victoria suddenly bolted upright, throwing her arms around my neck. She leaned in, trying to force a kiss onto my lips. In the past, I would have kissed her back like my life depended on it. Tonight, I shoved her away. She collapsed back onto the cushions. “Rowan, do you love me? Do you even love me?” she slurred, her eyes half-closed. It was a question she asked constantly. And I had always given her the answer she wanted. “No. I don’t love you anymore.” I zipped up my bag, grabbed the handle, and walked out into the cold night air. When I arrived at my parents’ small suburban home, they had a massive dinner waiting on the table. They didn’t ask questions. They didn’t pry. My mother just stroked my hair and said, “Son, if you are tired, just rest. Tell us what you want to eat. This house will always be your safe harbor.” Tears pricked the corners of my eyes. For seven years, my entire universe revolved around Victoria. I chased a cold, distant moon, completely neglecting the warm sun right beside me. But my parents never blamed me. They never tested me. They only wanted me to be happy. After dinner, I lay in my tiny childhood bedroom. It lacked the marble floors and silk sheets of the city, but it was the most peaceful I had felt in years. Then, my phone buzzed. It was Richard Harrington, Victoria’s father. “You poor piece of trash! When are you going to stop leaching off my daughter?” Every time he called, it was the exact same script. And every time, I swallowed my pride, swore I wouldn’t leave, and promised to prove my worth. This time, I fired back. “Trash? Are you looking in a mirror? As of today, I have absolutely nothing to do with your family. Stop harassing me.” I hung up. I blocked his number. I blocked his entire staff. The next morning, the shrill ring of my phone woke me up. It was Victoria. 4 “Rowan!” “Have you completely lost your mind? You dared to curse at my father? You actually packed your bags and ran away? Do not take this tantrum too far!” “My patience is running very thin. Do you understand me?” She wasn’t calling to apologize. She was calling to assert dominance. “I wasn’t joking.” “We are done.” I gave her a flat response and hit the end call button. Two minutes later, she called back. “Are you really throwing a fit? You are throwing your career away too?” Her tone had shifted. It was colder, more calculated. “Yes,” I replied. “Did you forget the non-compete clause you signed? If you resign without my approval, you owe the company a million-dollar penalty.” Victoria chuckled darkly. “However, I am feeling generous. I will give you one chance to wipe that debt clean.” “Tonight is the corporate camping retreat. Come out to the old spot and spin the wheel!” I froze. A million dollars was a death sentence for my family. I had no choice but to take the gamble. That evening, I drove up to the remote mountain campsite. The massive carnival wheel was waiting. The “Cancel Debt/Breakup” slot was narrowed down to a tiny one percent sliver. The other ninety-nine percent was a single, terrifying punishment: Jump into the nearby abandoned swimming pool, which was currently teeming with snakes. “Rowan.” “Take a good look at the punishment. I remember you are deathly afraid of snakes, right? I suggest you drop to your knees and apologize right now. Otherwise, when you miss that one percent, you are taking a swim.” Victoria narrowed her eyes, a victorious smirk playing on her lips. I really couldn’t understand her. She obviously despised me. Why was she trying so hard to keep me on a leash? Was my suffering just that entertaining? “Yeah, Rowan. Beg for mercy,” Simon mocked, walking up to me. He leaned in, dropping his voice to a malicious whisper. “I slipped a few dozen highly venomous vipers into that pit. If you jump, you are a dead man.” “Don’t blame me for being ruthless. Blame yourself for not knowing your place. You should have walked away gracefully.” I took a deep, shaky breath and walked straight toward the wheel. Even if the chances were microscopic, I had to try. I would rather risk death than spend another second trapped in this sick, twisted game. “Rowan!” “Are you insane? Did you not hear me? There are thousands of snakes down there!” Victoria stood frozen in shock. She never expected me to actually risk it. She thought I would break. I ignored her. I reached out, gripped the cold plastic edge of the wheel, and pulled down with all my strength. Under the watchful eyes of the entire company, the wheel spun into a blur of colors. Gradually, the clicking slowed down. Tick. Tick. Tick.

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1 On April Fool’s Day, my best friend breathlessly told me my ten-year boyfriend had planned a huge surprise. I spent two hours on a full face of makeup and bought a custom cake. By the river, the wind howled. He stood in the center of a crowd, arm around Abby, lighting a cigarette. Someone laughed. “Tristan, that’s cold! She actually fell for it?” “A bet’s a bet. Abby’s buying drinks tonight!” Abby leaned on him, giggling. “Tristan, aren’t you scared she actually loves you and will lose it?” He blew out smoke, squinting. “Lose it over what? Seven years. Only a fool would take it seriously.” I walked forward. The crowd fell silent. I dropped the cake onto his expensive shoes. Then I looked straight at Abby. “Last month he texted me about you. Said you were boring in bed, that you didn’t moan well.” Tristan’s face went white. I didn’t look back. The river wind cut through my coat as I turned to leave. It was fine. April—the perfect time to wake from a delusion. … I walked alone along the riverbank embankment. Footsteps rushed up behind me. A hand shot out and clamped down on my wrist. “Serena.” Tristan’s voice was low and dark. The smell of tobacco still clung to his clothes. “What the hell were you talking about back there?” I looked down at the hand gripping my wrist. His knuckles were pronounced. There was a faint, faded scar on his thumb joint. He got it playing basketball in high school. Back then, I used to bring him a fresh bandage every single day. “Let go of me.” “Not until you explain yourself.” He didn’t let go. His grip tightened. “There is absolutely nothing going on between me and Abby. What was the point of that little stunt you just pulled?” I almost laughed out loud. A few people from the crowd had followed him. Abby approached, her stiletto heels clicking sharply against the pavement. She immediately gravitated toward his side. “Tristan, let it go,” she said, her voice dropping into a soft, placating register as she placed her hand lightly on his forearm. “Serena is probably just… a little upset. The prank today was a bit harsh, after all.” Tristan didn’t even look at her. His eyes remained locked on me. “Serena, how old are you? You are throwing a tantrum over an April Fool’s joke? Since when did you become so immature?” The wind blew hard, puffing up his dress shirt. I looked at him, and then at the soft, supposedly harmless face of the woman glued to his side. Abby let out a delicate sigh, pressing herself closer against his chest. She rested her chin on his shoulder and looked at me, her eyes curving into sweet crescents. “Serena,” she murmured, her tone light and conspiratorial, as if sharing a secret. “You don’t actually have feelings for Tristan, do you? Pining after him for so many years when he feels nothing for you… that is just so pathetic.” Tristan didn’t push her away. I violently yanked my hand free. He clearly didn’t expect the sudden force. He stumbled slightly, his empty hand hanging suspended in the cold air. “Abby,” I said, my voice dead calm. “That time I drank myself into stomach bleeding to cover for him at a business dinner? You were sitting right there watching. That time he called me at 2 AM saying he was sick, and I rode a bike for half an hour in the freezing rain to bring him medicine? You were listening on the line. That time he said he was craving wontons from the shop behind our old campus, and I skipped my finals prep to stand in line for two hours? You didn’t try to stop me then, either.” I paused, letting the silence stretch. “You have known absolutely everything for the past seven years.” Abby lifted her head from his shoulder. Her sickeningly sweet smile finally faltered. I turned around and walked down the embankment stairs. This time, no one chased after me. When I reached the main intersection, my phone buzzed in my pocket. It was a text from my best friend, Chloe. I typed out a quick reply: [Hot pot tonight. You are paying.] The spicy red broth bubbled violently in the center of our table. I shoved a piece of beef tripe into my mouth while Chloe held up her phone, reading aloud: “‘Seven years and they haven’t even held hands. What is she even hoping for?’ — Posted by Abby on Instagram. The photo attached is the cake you smashed on the ground.” My chopsticks hovered in the air for a fraction of a second. Just then, the heavy curtain at the entrance of the restaurant was pushed aside. Two people walked in. Tristan walked in front. Abby was clinging to his arm, that same soft, innocent smile plastered on her face. They walked a few steps inside and stopped, making direct eye contact with our table. Abby’s eyes curved into crescents again. She physically dragged Tristan over to us. “Serena! What a coincidence.” She glanced down at our boiling pot. “Eating hot pot all alone? That is so sad. Do you want to join us? We were supposed to go to a French bistro, but Tristan insisted he wanted something spicy, so I tagged along.” Chloe slammed her chopsticks down onto the table with a sharp crack. “Who the hell are you? Do we know you?” Abby immediately shrank back behind Tristan, her voice turning even softer and more fragile. “I was just saying hello… Serena, please don’t be mad. I didn’t know your friend had such a terrible temper.” Tristan furrowed his brow, glaring at me. “Serena, tell your friend to watch her mouth.” Abby peeked out from behind his shoulder. She looked at the food in my bowl and let out a light, mocking giggle. “You still love beef tripe, huh?” she whispered loudly to Tristan, leaning in close. “I remember you telling me once that someone cooked tripe for you for an entire year straight, and eventually, just looking at it made you want to vomit.” Tristan stayed completely silent. Abby turned her attention back to me, raising her voice just enough so the neighboring tables could eavesdrop. “Serena, I honestly admire you. I really do. Seven years. I could never last that long. I can’t even wake up early enough to buy him breakfast. But honestly, if you like him, you should have just said so! Bottling it up for so long must be agonizing.” Chloe stood up so fast her chair scraped loudly against the floor. A few drops of boiling red broth splashed onto the back of her hand, but she didn’t even flinch. She marched straight around the table, stopping inches away from Abby. “Say that again.” Abby cowered against Tristan’s chest. “Tristan…” Tristan instinctively raised an arm to block Chloe. “Are you psychotic?” Chloe raised her hand and delivered a vicious, open-handed slap. She didn’t slap Abby. She slapped Tristan. 2 The sharp, ringing crack echoed through the restaurant. The entire dining room went dead silent for several seconds. Tristan clutched his cheek, staring at Chloe in absolute disbelief. It was as if his brain couldn’t process what had just happened. Abby stood frozen beside him, her mouth hanging open. The word “Tristan” was trapped in her throat. I stood up. I walked over to them. Just as Tristan opened his mouth to shout, I raised my hand and delivered a second, equally vicious slap to his other cheek. He stumbled backward, crashing heavily into the table behind him. Bowls and chopsticks shattered across the tiled floor. “The first slap was payback for my best friend,” I said, my voice steady. “The second slap is payback for the last seven years.” Abby finally found her voice and let out a piercing scream. “Waiter—!” Chloe grabbed my wrist. We bolted for the exit. The hot pot restaurant had heavy, old-fashioned sliding wooden doors. Chloe kicked one open with a loud bang that rattled the frame. The freezing night wind hit us in the face. Behind us, someone yelled, “Stop right there!” More chopsticks clattered to the floor. Abby screamed, her voice shrill and panicked, “Tristan, you’re bleeding!” We sprinted through two entire city blocks. When we finally ducked into a narrow, dimly lit alleyway, Chloe stopped. She bent over, gasping for air, and then looked up at me. She started laughing so hard she couldn’t stand straight. “Did I… did I actually just slap Tristan across the face?” I started laughing too, leaning against the cold brick wall to catch my breath. “You did.” “Is he going to call the cops?” “Let him,” I said, wiping a tear from my eye. “I can just show the police Abby’s Instagram post and ask if being a pathetic doormat for seven years is a prosecutable offense.” Chloe laughed even harder, collapsing onto a concrete step. I pulled my phone out of my pocket. The screen was lit up with several missed calls. All from Tristan. A new text message popped up: [Where are you?] The phone buzzed again. [Pick up the phone.] [Serena, can you act like a mature adult for once?] I tossed the phone to Chloe. “You reply.” Chloe caught it effortlessly. Her thumbs flew across the keyboard, and she hit send. I leaned over to read what she wrote. [We are at the crematorium. I reserved an oven for you.] I almost choked on a laugh. The phone immediately started ringing again. Tristan’s contact photo flashed aggressively on the screen. Chloe hit decline, powered the phone completely off, and shoved it back into my coat pocket. “Let’s go,” she said, standing up and brushing the dust off her jeans. “We are going to my place.” We navigated out of the alley and flagged down a passing taxi. Just as I pulled the passenger door open, two figures bolted out from the adjacent intersection, running at top speed. Tristan’s face still bore the unmistakable, bright red marks of two handprints. Abby was struggling to keep up behind him, carrying her stilettos in one hand, running on the pavement in nothing but sheer pantyhose. “Serena!” Tristan lunged forward and slammed his hand flat against the open taxi door. The driver leaned his head out the window, annoyed. “Are you getting in or not?” “Yes.” Chloe shoved me violently into the backseat, dived in after me, and slammed the door shut with a deafening thud. “Drive. Now.” Tristan’s fingers were still gripping the edge of the rolled-down window. As the taxi lurched forward, he was dragged a few agonizing steps before finally losing his grip. In the rearview mirror, I watched him stand frozen in the middle of the street. Abby finally caught up to him and tried to grab his arm. He violently shoved her away. Chloe rolled down her window, sticking her head out into the cold wind. “Tristan! Those handprints are perfectly symmetrical! You’re welcome!” The taxi turned a corner, and they vanished from sight. The driver shot us a few wary glances in the rearview mirror but didn’t ask any questions. He just quietly reached over and turned the radio volume up. An old classic rock song was playing. The driver hummed along. Chloe slumped back against the faux-leather seats, kicked off her sneakers, and pulled her knees up to her chest. “I’m starving,” she groaned. “I didn’t even get a single piece of tripe.” “We will boil instant ramen at your place.” “Deal. Add an egg.” My phone vibrated aggressively in my pocket again. I pulled it out. It was an unknown number. I declined the call. A text message arrived immediately: [This is Abby. Tristan drank way too much. Can you come over?] Chloe leaned over, read the message, and practically snatched the phone out of my hands. She quickly typed a reply: [If he drank too much, feed him vinegar. Why are you texting me? Do I look like a vinegar factory?] Send. Block. She tossed the phone back into my lap, glanced out the window, and suddenly sat bolt upright. “Hey. Isn’t that Tristan’s car?” I whipped my head around to look. A sleek black sedan had accelerated aggressively from behind and was now driving parallel to our taxi. The passenger window was rolled halfway down. Tristan’s jaw was clenched so tight the muscles twitched. He suddenly jerked his steering wheel, aggressively swerving toward us. The taxi driver cursed loudly and violently yanked his steering wheel to avoid a collision. “What the hell is wrong with this maniac?!” The black sedan surged forward and pinned us against the curb again, this time closing the gap to mere inches. Tristan turned his head, staring directly through the double layer of glass at me in the backseat. His lips moved. Chloe narrowed her eyes, reading his lips. “He said… get out of the car.” The taxi driver slammed his foot on the gas. The taxi shot forward, briefly leaving Tristan’s car behind. But within seconds, the sleek sedan roared back up alongside us. The two vehicles aggressively wove through the late-night traffic. The driver frantically shifted gears, spewing a continuous stream of profanities. “Are you kids trying to get yourselves killed over a breakup?!” “It’s not a breakup,” Chloe yelled over the engine noise. “It’s debt collection.” We hit a red light, and the traffic forced us to a crawl. Tristan’s car pulled up right beside us. This time, he didn’t look at the backseat. He looked directly at the driver. “Sir, she owes me money.” The driver blinked, startled, and turned around to look at me. Chloe immediately reached over and shoved the driver’s head back toward the windshield. “Keep your eyes on the road! He is lying. He owes us money!” The light turned green. Tristan’s car didn’t move. He waited for our taxi to accelerate, then violently cranked his steering wheel, cutting horizontally across the lanes and blocking our path completely. The taxi driver slammed on the brakes. The tires screeched. All three of us were violently thrown forward. “Holy—” Tristan stepped out of his car. He walked purposefully over to my side of the taxi and knocked hard on the glass. I rolled the window down exactly one inch. “Get out,” he demanded. His voice was hoarse, sounding entirely unlike himself. “We need to talk.” “We have absolutely nothing to talk about.” “We do.” He pressed his hand flat against the cold glass, his knuckles turning white. “You said all those things in front of my friends. Fine. I accept that. But why did you run? Why won’t you let me finish a single sentence?” Chloe leaned aggressively over me, shouting through the crack. “Say what?! That there is nothing between you and Abby? That you actually secretly love Serena?! Tristan, touch your face! You got slapped twice and it’s still swollen, yet she practically bled for you for seven years and you didn’t notice a damn thing?!” Tristan ignored her completely, his eyes locked onto mine. “I already made Abby delete the Instagram post.” I stared at him, unblinking. “She is just a friend. She said she wanted to play a prank today, and I thought you would…” “Thought I would what?” He fell silent. The back door of Tristan’s car opened. Abby stepped out onto the asphalt. Her eyes were bloodshot, her cheeks stained with fresh tear tracks. “Serena,” she whimpered, her voice thick with fake tears. “I am so sorry. This is all my fault. I didn’t know you cared so much. I thought you had already… Tristan always told me you were just old classmates, so I didn’t think anything of it.” “Today was entirely my fault. Please don’t blame Tristan. He actually cares about you a lot.” Chloe burst out laughing. “Oh my god. How many times did you rehearse that monologue in the mirror?” Large, theatrical tears rolled down Abby’s cheeks. “I am truly so sorry. I posted that picture out of a momentary lapse of judgment, but I already deleted it. Tristan already yelled at me for it. If you are still angry, you can hit me. Just please don’t make things difficult for him.” She took a timid half-step forward. She was still in bare pantyhose, and she visibly shivered as her feet touched the freezing asphalt. Tristan glanced down at her, a deep frown creasing his forehead. 3 Abby tilted her head up, gazing at him with red, tear-filled eyes. Her lips parted slightly, but she made no sound. A few pedestrians on the sidewalk stopped to watch the drama unfold. The taxi driver blared his horn twice. “Listen, can you people move this soap opera to the curb? I have a living to make here.” Tristan stepped slightly to the side, but his gaze immediately snapped back to me. “Get out of the car. I will drive you home.” Chloe grabbed my sleeve tightly. Abby stood completely still, tears continuously streaming down her face, her toes curling tightly against the freezing asphalt. She looked simultaneously pathetic and calculating. I pushed the taxi door open and stepped out. Tristan let out a visible breath of relief and took a step toward me. I completely bypassed him. I walked straight up to Abby. She lifted her tear-streaked face, gazing at me with a perfectly crafted look of fragile innocence. Her lips parted as if to speak— “Are your feet not freezing?” I asked softly. She froze. “Doesn’t it hurt to stand on the road like that?” She instinctively looked down at her feet, then back up at me. Something calculating flashed in her eyes for a split second. “Where are my shoes?” she whispered, playing the victim perfectly. She looked around helplessly. She had likely discarded her stilettos several blocks back just to play this exact role. I pulled my phone out of my purse, opened the camera app, switched to the front-facing lens, and held the screen inches from her face. “Take a good look at yourself right now.” She instinctively leaned closer to the screen. She saw her mascara clumped into thick, ugly spiderwebs, her lipstick smeared across her chin, and her eyeliner running in two massive black smudges under her eyes. She looked deranged. “This is what Tristan likes?” I pulled the phone away and dropped it back into my purse. “His taste in women is even worse than I thought.” Abby’s lips trembled violently. Chloe popped her head out of the taxi window. “Hey, where did all that energy go from when you were chasing our car?! Running a marathon in pantyhose—so brave! I thought you were training for the Olympics!” Abby’s face turned a violent shade of crimson. Tristan took a heavy step forward, physically placing himself between me and Abby. “That is enough.” Chloe kicked her door open, hopped out of the taxi in her socks, and marched right up to him, tilting her chin up aggressively. “Enough? Tristan, have you actually counted how many messes she has cleaned up for you over the past seven years? When your psycho ex-girlfriend showed up at her dorm to scream at her, she took it in silence to protect you.” “When you got into a bar fight and ended up bleeding, she scaled the campus fence at 3 AM to buy you bandages. When your mother called interrogating her about whether you had a new girlfriend, she lied through her teeth to cover for you.” Chloe took another aggressive step forward, forcing Tristan to lean back. “Abby stands barefoot on the pavement for five minutes and your heart bleeds for her? When Serena had a stomach hemorrhage, who rushed her to the emergency room?! Where the hell were you?!” Tristan’s lips pressed together into a thin, bloodless line. “I didn’t know…” “You didn’t know?” Chloe let out a sharp, venomous laugh. “What exactly didn’t you know? You knew she woke up at 6 AM every single morning to buy you breakfast. You knew she memorized your entire class schedule. You knew she liked every single post you ever made. You knew absolutely everything. You just pretended you were blind.” Abby shrank back, trying to make herself look smaller. Tristan stood rooted to the spot, completely paralyzed. I walked over and stood right next to Chloe. “Tristan,” I said, my voice eerily calm. “Do you remember my birthday during junior year of college? You asked me what I wanted as a gift.” He stared at me, his breathing shallow. “I told you I just wanted you to take me to the movies. You told me you were too busy. You said you had to help your girlfriend at the time pick out a present for someone. Later that night, I went to the theater alone. I saw the two of you standing by the entrance. You were holding the luxury bag she bought, and she had her arm linked through yours.” He opened his mouth, but no sound came out. “You saw me that night,” I continued, my voice entirely void of emotion. “You waved at me from across the lobby. And then you put your arm around her waist and walked into the theater.” A gust of wind blew a lock of his hair across his forehead. “Seven years,” I said. “If you had treated me like a human being for even one single second of those seven years, I wouldn’t be standing here right now.” He took a desperate step forward. “Serena…” “Don’t take another step.” Chloe threw her arm out, pointing a finger directly at his chest. “Don’t let your dirty shoes taint the ground Serena walks on.” Tristan stopped dead in his tracks. He stared at me. Something foreign and desperate was shifting in his eyes. “I didn’t know…” he whispered, his voice cracking. “I thought you… you never explicitly said the words.” Chloe let out a sound of pure disgust. “How many times did she have to say it?! She told you, ‘Tristan, I love you,’ and you told her to stop joking around. She said, ‘Tristan, I am completely serious,’ and you told her, ‘I like the way things are.’ She begged you, ‘Tristan, can you please just look at me?’ and the very next week, you started dating Abby.” Abby flinched, pulling her coat tighter around herself. Tristan stood completely immobilized. The two handprints on his face still hadn’t faded. One on each cheek, glowing bright red like a pair of grotesque clown paints under the streetlights. I stared at him in silence for three agonizing seconds. Then, I turned around. “Let’s go.” Chloe immediately followed, linking her arm tightly through mine. There were no footsteps behind us. No one chased us. After walking about twenty paces, I finally glanced back over my shoulder. He was still standing in the exact same spot. The wind was whipping his shirt around his torso. The harsh glare of the streetlamp cast deep shadows over his face, making his expression unreadable. Abby was crouched on the ground nearby, blindly searching for something in the dark. Chloe pulled out her phone, aimed it backward, and snapped a photo of the pathetic scene. “I am keeping this,” she declared, sliding the phone back into her pocket. “If you ever lose your mind and feel a shred of pity for him in the future, I will use this to smack some sense back into you.” I raised my hand and flagged down another taxi. “I will never feel pity for him again.”

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The A-list actor suddenly announced his secret marriage and a child. Twitter exploded. And my world went green with envy. Secretly married to Liam Blackwood for three years, how could I not know if we had a child? Consumed by fury, I immediately signed up for a dating reality show, seeking my second chance at love. But to my utter shock, the very next second, #ActorBringsKidToDatingShow instantly became the top trending topic. 1 Twitter crashed. #LiamBlackwoodUnlockedDadStatus #LiamBlackwoodSecretMarriageChild #AnotherKidInShowbiz The trending topics exploded. Liam Blackwood’s sudden announcement caught everyone off guard. “What the hell?!” “Ahhh, what’s going on?! I thought it was a Photoshopped image, but it’s real! My hands are shaking, help!” “Unbelievable.” Netizens were buzzing, mostly with well wishes. After all, Liam Blackwood had maintained a low profile with no scandals since his debut, never cultivating a single status persona. Just as everyone was forwarding their blessings and digging for information about the wife… Little did they know, the wife herself had been staring at his official tweet for five full minutes. For a moment, I even wondered if I was dreaming. The wife was me, yet it also felt like it wasn’t. Secret marriage? That part was true. But a child??? As Liam Blackwood’s legal wife of three years, how could I not know if we had a child? It felt like I’d been cheated on. Not sure, let me check again. Given his past behavior, what if his “son” referred to a cat or a dog? But fate, it seemed, was thoroughly displeased with me for making excuses for a man. The hashtag #LiamBlackwood’sSon’sFacePhoto quickly shot up to the third spot on the trending list, right before my eyes. Seeing the child’s photo, I really couldn’t deceive myself anymore. He and Liam Blackwood’s faces were practically carved from the same mold. And judging by his height, the child was probably around four years old. So, Liam Blackwood had cheated on me before we even got married?! I pursed my lips, wanting to cry. But a woman doesn’t shed tears lightly; why cry for a jerk? I looked up, blinked hard, and blocked all contact methods for that scumbag. After a moment of silence, I still couldn’t calm down. I unblocked Liam Blackwood, then dialed his number. He picked up instantly. I started with a cold laugh, then launched into a machine-gun tirade, rapid-firing insults. “You scumbag! You had a child and still lied to me.” “You look like a decent human being, but I never saw your true rotten nature! You really can’t judge a book by its cover!” “Divorce! The assets are mine, you leave with nothing!” “Yolanda, let me expl—” “Get lost!” Without giving the jerk time to react, I slammed the phone down and blocked him again. Explain? More like make excuses! Just as I was consumed with rage, another call came in. “Miss Dawson, hello. I’m a staff member from the ‘Finding My Spark’ show. You declined us once before, but we’d like to try again. Would you reconsider?” Finding My Spark? I remembered it. It was a dating show where six single contestants would live together in a villa for a month. I had declined before because I was married. But now… Heh, I was going to find my second spring. 2 I tossed the signed divorce papers aside and packed my bags that very night. The dating show was live-streamed, starting at 7 AM and ending at 9 PM. Before the show began, all electronic devices were confiscated. The excuse was to prevent being disturbed by online information and to encourage us to show our true selves. The first season of the show had been a huge success, so when this season’s live stream started, a massive audience poured in. “Here we are, here we are~” “Hoo-hoo-hoo, new couples to ship!” I was the last to arrive. After entering the villa, I greeted the other contestants first. “Hello everyone, my name is Yolanda Dawson, and I’m a writer.” “Wow wow wow, a beauty! So pretty!” “Ahhh, it’s Yolanda! She’s on a dating show too!” “Who’s Yolanda? Am I out of the loop?” “To the person above, Yolanda is a best-selling author! ‘Addiction,’ which was a massive hit online, was written by her. Super impressive!” “I know that one! So it’s her!” As the comments scrolled, the viewers seemed to notice something. “Why does it look like there’s another guest outside?” “Holy cow! It’s Liam Blackwood!” The newcomer was tall and slender, with handsome features. His cool, pale skin contrasted sharply with his all-black attire, creating an unmentionable allure. What was even more jaw-dropping was that he was holding a child’s hand?! “Hello everyone, I’m Liam Blackwood, a contestant.” This time, not only the comments section but the entire internet exploded. #ActorBringsKidToDatingShow immediately topped the trending list. “Ahhhhh, it’s really Liam Blackwood! He’s on a dating show?!” “Liam Blackwood is married with a kid, why is he on a dating show? Isn’t this cheating?!” Facing the online debate, Liam Blackwood’s studio quickly responded: “Mrs. Blackwood, due to some misunderstanding, impulsively joined this dating show. Mr. Blackwood is simply here to pursue his wife. Everyone, please don’t worry.” “My whole family is shocked; you can play it like this?!” “Hahaha, Mrs. Blackwood is amazing!” “First time seeing something like this, interesting, rushing to watch the live stream.” “There are three girls on the dating show, who is Liam Blackwood’s wife?” Regardless of the uproar online, we, who were filming the show, knew nothing. The moment I saw Liam Blackwood, I froze. I knew he was bold. But I never imagined he’d come directly to the dating show, and with a kid, no less? When I snapped back to reality, I casually lifted my gaze, only to find Liam Blackwood looking at me with an unreadable expression. I involuntarily swallowed, discreetly shifting my gaze, then suddenly met the eyes of the child next to him. The child’s eyes lit up, looking eager, and at the same time, a premonition of dread washed over me. My inner self screamed, Don’t come over here! But often, what you fear most comes true. Next, the child flashed a big smile at me, pattered over to me, and in a loud voice declared: “Mommy!” 3 Time instantly froze; the entire world fell silent. My mind was a blank. Suddenly, one of the guests’ water glasses slipped from their hand, clattering to the floor with a “thud.” Instantly, the room erupted. “!!!” “Is it Yolanda?! Is it?! Is it?!” “Ahhh, it is! You can tell from the same frame that the kid looks a lot like Yolanda!” All eyes were on me. Under everyone’s gaze, I forced a smile, crouched down to be at eye level with the child, and was just about to speak. His eyes darted around, then he said, “Daddy said that the person I like best here is my mommy, and I like you best here.” “Oh, and my name is Sam!” Then he paused, his face turning slightly red, shyly glanced at me, and continued, “You can call me ‘sweetheart’ too.” My face stiffened. Although the child was adorable, the comments section was going wild. “Ahhh, is Yolanda the wife or not??” “I don’t know, they seem kind of unfamiliar.” “Yolanda = favorite person = mommy = YES!” Ultimately, Sam’s pleading gaze softened my heart, and I couldn’t resist pinching his cheek. After all, children are innocent. I gently smiled, and as I uttered the first syllable of “sweetheart,” I was pulled to my feet. Seeing it was Liam Blackwood, I immediately pulled my hand away, stepping back to put some distance between us. His hand hung in mid-air, his eyes dim. Now he was trying to act all affectionate? I carelessly shifted my gaze and noticed Sam glaring angrily at him. Oh, Liam Blackwood wasn’t even favored by his own son. “The staff said it’s getting late and asked us to sit down and talk.” The man looked at me. “Alright.” With that, I pulled my luggage and walked towards the living room. I made no move to wait for them. This scene made the comments section fall into deep thought. “…Did my memory fail me? I didn’t see any staff here.” “I didn’t either! Liam Blackwood is so sneaky, interrupting Yolanda because he doesn’t want her to call his son ‘sweetheart’?” “The studio said the wife came to the dating show because she was angry. Yolanda seems to dislike Liam Blackwood, so I think she’s the wife!” “Don’t be so sure, maybe she’s just trying to avoid suspicion?” I found a small sofa and sat down. Liam Blackwood followed and sat next to me. I rolled my eyes internally. So many seats, and he had to squeeze in with me. I pressed my eye sockets, telling myself to endure it. I absolutely couldn’t expose my relationship with Liam Blackwood; we were getting divorced anyway. Once everyone was seated, the director began to read the show’s schedule. “Rooms have been assigned. Please unpack your things and then gather here again.” My room was on the second floor; I had to carry my luggage up the stairs. As soon as I pushed my suitcase to the bottom of the stairs, Liam Blackwood picked it up. He was smiling at me, “I’ll help you.” I didn’t refuse, simply offering a polite “Thank you.” His smile froze, his pupils trembled slightly, looking as if he wanted to say something but couldn’t. I raised an eyebrow, having already expected this reaction. After all, I had never been so polite to him before. 4 By the time I finished unpacking, it was almost evening. On the first day of the show, the production team was generous, providing plenty of ingredients. We just had to cook ourselves. Everyone divided tasks: those who could cook, cooked; those who couldn’t, helped out or washed dishes after dinner. I couldn’t cook, but I used to help Liam Blackwood often, so I had some experience. In the end, two people were chosen to cook: Liam Blackwood and a female contestant. Two people were chosen to help: me and another male contestant. I originally wanted to help the female contestant, planning to stay away from Liam Blackwood. But the director, who had disappeared, suddenly reappeared. He forcibly mandated that teams had to be one male and one female. I had no choice but to go to the area Liam Blackwood was responsible for. He worked very efficiently, and it seemed like there was nothing for me to do to help him. I just stood there, staring at his back. “Yolanda, grab a spoon.” “Okay.” I instinctively responded, handing the spoon to Liam Blackwood. Then I went back to staring at his back. The comments section couldn’t keep quiet. “Ahhh, Yolanda! He called her Yolanda!” “The key is how naturally Yolanda responded!” “Their movements are so practiced! If they’re not a couple, I’ll wash my hair standing on my head!” After what felt like ages, dinner was finally ready. I was already starving, my stomach rumbling, and eagerly rushed to serve the dishes. “Ouch!” My hand pricked on something, and it started to bleed. Hearing the sound, Liam Blackwood quickly came over to me. “What’s wrong?” Before I could speak, he spotted the bead of blood and grabbed my finger. He was going to… My pupils contracted, and I quickly pulled my hand away, popping my finger into my mouth first. I mumbled, “I’m fine.” Then I ran off. “Ahhh, screaming chicken emoji.” “Ahhh, ahhh, he wanted to suck it! Why didn’t she let him suck it!” “Ahhh, ahhh, don’t mind me! I’m writhing like a maggot in bed!” During dinner, Liam Blackwood still sat next to me. Although everyone was still getting to know each other, the conversation flowed, and it wasn’t too awkward. Tonight’s meal mostly suited my taste, and I was happily devouring it with my head down. Suddenly, a peeled shrimp appeared in my bowl as if from the heavens. The people at the table fell silent for a moment. I decided to retract my previous statement about the atmosphere not being awkward. After a moment of silence, I finally looked up, narrowing my eyes at the culprit, my tone slightly gritted. “Thank you, Mr. Blackwood.” “You’re welcome, it’s nothing.” The man curved his eyes, a faint smile on his lips. The space seemed to grow even quieter. What exactly did he want? I chuckled, forcing a smile, and then piled several handfuls of cilantro onto his plate. “A return gift, eat up.” According to research, about 15% of the global population dislikes cilantro. Liam Blackwood was one of them. Not just cilantro, but also celery, carrots… even inconspicuous ginger slices. I piled them all onto his plate. “Hahaha, look at Liam Blackwood’s expression! I’m dying of laughter.” “It seems Mrs. Blackwood is really angry; she’s giving him all the things my brother hates to eat.” “But he ate it all, I’m melting, ugh!” “Liam Blackwood, when are you going to make up with Yolanda? I’m so anxious!”

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My husband, Andrew Stevens, died young, at forty. In my past life, I was utterly consumed by love. Not long after his death, I followed him into the grave. It was only after I died that I learned Andrew had already written a will, leaving all his assets and shares to Serena Thorne, his childhood crush, his “moonlight goddess.” And me, with my weak-willed nature, he had subtly planted the seed of suicide in my mind, all to clear the path for Serena. I opened my eyes again, back to the moment Andrew had another episode, telling me he couldn’t bear to leave me. This time, I gripped his hand back. “Since that’s the case, leave all your money to me.” “And, you have good taste; you can help me find my next husband.” 1 Andrew frowned in surprise. He looked at me in disbelief, probably struggling to understand why I would say such a thing. After all, just yesterday, I was still clutching his diagnosis, weeping hysterically, showing every sign of wanting to live and die with him. Now, I was utterly calm, asking him for money and a new man. I ignored his suspicious gaze. After a moment’s thought, I added, “Honey, I know you’re strong, but the company’s stability is paramount. Since you’re ill, why don’t I take over Stevens Corp. for now?” Andrew’s face completely darkened. He knew I’d been lazy my whole life. The company my parents left me, I’d handed it all over to him, never asking a single question. That’s how Andrew managed to secretly merge our two companies’ businesses and gradually transfer them to Serena. Now that I was saying I wanted to take over, he couldn’t find a counter-argument. Serena, however, seemed anxious. She quickly stepped forward. “Miss Dawson, you haven’t studied business management. I’m afraid you won’t be able to handle the business affairs.” I lifted my eyelids to look at her. This was the first time I had really scrutinized this woman. To be fair, she wasn’t an absolute beauty. But her eyes were soft and alluring, with a unique charm that men often found irresistible. When she first joined the company, I had also sensed something amiss and asked Andrew why he hired a divorced woman as his secretary. At the time, Andrew’s expression was indifferent. He flipped through documents as he said, “Serena has her advantages. I value capability, not marital status. Yolanda, don’t you dare bring workplace discrimination into this.” In my eyes, he had always been rational and clever. How could I have imagined that he was just an ordinary man? The eldest son of the Stevens family, who had consistently ranked first in school, was chosen as the heir, and whose words and actions were always flawless, was secretly deeply in love with a woman from a poor family, with nothing to her name, divorced, and with a child. I held no personal animosity towards Serena. I felt it was my fault for not managing my husband better. But if she was going to challenge me, I saw no need to be polite. With a cold face, I said, “No matter how bad my ability is, this is still my family’s company. It’s not a secretary’s place to dictate terms.” 2 Just one sentence, and Andrew already seemed displeased. He frowned slightly. “Yolanda, watch your tone. Secretary Thorne is just stating facts; she has no other intentions.” “You’re too used to being a spoiled rich girl, looking down on people. You’d best get rid of that nasty habit quickly.” Already burdened with two lifetimes of grievances, my patience snapped. “I won’t change. You’re practically dying, what right do you have to dictate my temper?!” “You care if your secretary feels wronged, but you don’t care if your wife will have no one to depend on and suffer hardships in the future, Andrew Stevens, you bastard, you have no conscience.” Serena couldn’t help but step forward. “Miss Dawson, that’s not right. Mr. Stevens is ill, how can you still yell at him?” I glared at her, then saw Andrew’s expression, and held back my words. For the sake of the money, my tone softened after all. “Honey, I wasn’t trying to lose my temper. It’s just that your health isn’t good, and I was worried you couldn’t handle everything, which is why I made that suggestion.” “But I didn’t expect you to yell at me for your secretary. You hurt me deeply.” “I’ll go back first. Let’s both cool down. We can talk about everything tomorrow.” With that, I turned and walked away, leaving Andrew stunned. Even after leaving the hospital room, my heart still felt heavy. After all, I had truly loved Andrew Stevens. In the past life, when Andrew was first diagnosed with cancer, he uncharacteristically clasped my hand, his voice deep, and told me, “Don’t be afraid, Yolanda, I’ll fight to live.” “I love you, I can’t live without you. For our future, I will definitely fight this illness.” His hand trembled slightly, and he was no longer as aloof as before. I cried with emotion, thinking my love had finally been returned. But I never imagined that while Andrew spoke to me, his gaze lingered on his ever-present secretary in the hospital room. It was only after I died that I realized Andrew had played a clever game of ‘under the lamplight.’ The divorced female secretary he always kept by his side was Serena Thorne, his high school sweetheart, the “moonlight goddess” who had gone to study abroad, leaving him and breaking up with him. 3 He loved her so much that, fearing she would suffer alone with her child, he left all his inheritance and company shares to her. Not content with that, he even emotionally manipulated me, his love-struck fool of a wife, to die alongside him. Once I was gone, my family’s assets would also be without an heir, eventually being swallowed up by Serena piece by piece. Now, thinking about it again, money is where the love is. If Andrew kept saying he couldn’t bear to leave me, then by that logic, his money should be mine. In this life, I would reclaim everything that belonged to me. I walked out of the hospital doors in a few brisk steps. Just as I descended the stairs, I ran into Andrew’s parents and my childhood friend, Alex Blade. My mother-in-law had never liked me. She thought I was childish and naive, and she would always scold me whenever she saw me. This time was no exception. Seeing me, she immediately lectured, “Andrew is still sick; where are you running off to?” “Running around all day, you clearly have no upbringing.” “I don’t know what Andrew was thinking, why he insisted on marrying you.” Her words were quite impolite. I couldn’t help but retort, “Well, he married me, and we’ve slept together for five years. What’s the point of saying that now?” “You always think I’m no good, but your son is dying, and I haven’t even complained that he’s short-lived.” My mother-in-law choked, “That’s because you cursed him!” “I haven’t even started scolding you, and you’re already talking about us. If it weren’t for you, this bad luck charm, how would our Andrew have gotten cancer?” “You cursed your own parents to death, and now you’re harming my son, you shameless wretch.” Her words cut deep, and in my past life, I actually blamed everything on myself. My parents died in a car accident when they drove me to see the sea in the middle of the night because I insisted. When Andrew was diagnosed with cancer, my first reaction was, Is my birth chart too strong, causing everyone close to me to leave one by one? Now, I don’t think that way anymore. It was clear that several men in his Stevens family had died of cancer; they had a genetic defect. How dare she blame me? Too lazy to argue with my mother-in-law, I simply gave up. “If you dislike me so much, then tell your son to divorce me.” “Anyway, he’s dying now, and I don’t want to be with him anymore.” Mother-in-law: “??? Good, good, good, you’ve finally shown your true colors. I’ll tell my son to divorce you, you bad luck charm.” With that, she cursed and grumbled as she walked away. I let out a long sigh, about to celebrate. I turned my head and saw Alex Blade leaning against the door, hands in his pockets. He still had that devil-may-care look. Even though he was already an airline captain, he always liked to tease me in private. This time, his eyes were full of a mischievous grin. “Oh, so our little Yolanda finally stopped being a love-struck fool and a doormat?” “If you get divorced, would you consider me?” 4 That man never had a kind word to say. Like now, I was absolutely sure he was mocking me. From childhood, Alex had always been like this. Despite having a face that could charm anyone, his words were sharper than a scorpion’s tail. He really disapproved of my pursuit of Andrew Stevens. Every time I bought something to please Andrew, he’d call me his little doormat, his little fool. He’d constantly pick on me, asking defiantly, “Yolanda, what exactly do I lack compared to that pretentious guy?” I was too lazy to humor him. “Andrew Stevens scored 701, you scored 107. What do you think?” Alex choked, his tongue pressing against his cheek. “Are you saying if I scored 701, you’d send me food too?” “I might consider it.” “It’s a deal.” From then on, the once idle young master of the Blade family suddenly studied like a madman. In just half a year, he went from last in class to second. He was eager to show off, but I had a family tragedy; my parents died, and I had to move to another city to live with my grandparents. It wasn’t until years later, when I reconnected with Andrew Stevens in college, that I picked up my “doormat” duties again and unexpectedly ran into Alex Blade once more. Unfortunately, this time he was a step too slow. The day before he asked me to meet, I successfully “doormat-ed” my way into becoming Andrew Stevens’s girlfriend. When Alex found out, he just gave me a cold laugh. His long index finger poked my forehead. “You blind fool, I’d like to see if you can live a good life!” The fact proved that I couldn’t live well. I spent my entire life with Andrew Stevens, being completely manipulated by him. It was only at my death that I realized he merely used me as a placeholder, knowing he had a cancer defect, and chose to be with me so as not to hinder his moonlight goddess. He meticulously planned, built a vast empire, and left everything except his parents’ portion to Serena. In the end, Serena became the richest woman in the country, and even turned their love story into a TV series, with me as the shameless side character. Oh, I was so angry, I only wished I could become a ghost and choke that shameless woman. Now, reborn, I would never fall for their tricks again. In this life, I want the money, I want the company. And as for men, I’m going to find eight! I glanced at Alex Blade, who was still waiting for my reply, and said with an air of profound wisdom, “I’m done being a doormat. But I don’t want you. You’re too old, your physique isn’t great, your stamina isn’t good, you won’t satisfy me.” Alex Blade, who had been wearing a mischievous grin, instantly froze. 5 I returned alone to the house I shared with Andrew Stevens. This time, I finally discovered many unsettling things. For example, in his constantly locked study, the drawers held love letters Serena had sent him during college. For example, in the guest room no one ever stayed in, at the very bottom of the closet, were Serena’s clothes. Serena loved stars; the house decor and arrangements were full of star elements. But I loved roses, and Andrew found them tacky, not allowing a single one during renovation. Even the rose ornaments my friends gave me for our wedding were thrown away by Andrew, who said they were an eyesore. The more I thought about it, the more I felt pathetic. How could I have lived like such a fool before, completely in the dark? I picked up Andrew’s favorite golf club and smashed the house clean. Then I called a designer to redecorate. I packed some of my things and moved to the city’s largest hotel. Before I could even think about what to do next, Andrew called. His tone was better than before, distinctly gentle. “Yolanda.” “Hmm?” “Are you angry?” “No.” “This afternoon, I only said a couple of things to you, and you turned around and left, then argued with my mother. Your temper is getting worse and worse.” I said, “My temper is nowhere near as bad as yours.” From childhood, when was it ever not him ignoring me? When we were dating, if I did anything slightly wrong, Andrew could ignore me for days. Before he was diagnosed with cancer, he was always indifferent to me. It was me who was passionate, always fantasizing that we had an epic romance. Thinking back, he really only became gentler and more openly affectionate after he was diagnosed with cancer. And I, after finally receiving emotional response, became more and more afraid of his death. Andrew was sick for ten years, and I took care of him for ten years. In those last days, he was almost constantly in a coma, unable to control his bladder or bowels. I didn’t hire a nurse; I turned him over, changed his diapers, did everything myself. My once delicate fingers eventually became covered with calluses. The day he died, the sun was shining brightly. I was wiping his back when he suddenly opened his eyes. Seeing it was me, his eyes darkened, then he said, “Yolanda, I can’t bear to leave you. If I’m gone, what will you do alone?” How foolish I was, thinking I was loved by a man for life, almost unable to live without him. I didn’t expect he was just clearing the last obstacle for Serena, enticing me to also go to extremes. In truth, if a woman isn’t completely consumed by love, she can see many things clearly. Like now, I saw through his intentions at a glance and didn’t want to play along anymore. I heard my own clear, cold voice: “Andrew Stevens, if you think I’m so terrible, you can find another wife.” He still had ten years to live, so even if we divorced now, he could still ‘guard’ Serena for ten years. I didn’t expect Andrew to be so determined to drag me down. Hearing me talk about divorce, his voice was incredibly deep. “Why divorce, Yolanda Dawson, is it just because I have cancer?”

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I was brutally murdered, and my mother was the sole witness. But the trauma was so severe, she couldn’t remember the killer’s face. Everyone comforted her. “It’s okay, take your time, you’ll remember eventually.” Yet, ten years passed. Mom never did remember. On the tenth anniversary of my death, Officer Miller pressed her again. But Mom leaned down, kissed my nine-year-old sister, and said with serene resignation, “Let me just forget those painful memories completely.” “After all, I have a new daughter now.” 1 Ten years after my death, Officer Miller still patiently pleaded with my mother. “Try to remember.” “If you can recall the perpetrator’s face, the case will truly be solved.” “Elara was your daughter, don’t you want her to rest in peace?” But my mother’s face remained utterly devoid of emotion. She slowly lifted her eyes, her voice blank. “You’re the ones who are incompetent.” “You haven’t caught the killer in ten years. Do you really think you can now?” A flicker of awkwardness crossed Officer Miller’s face, but he remained patient. “I understand how you feel. That day, Elara suffered a terrible fate, and you were also deeply traumatized.” “However, there were no cameras on that street, and the rescue efforts unfortunately compromised some evidence.” “You are the sole witness.” “If you can recall any detail, no matter how insignificant, it might be the key to finding the killer.” As Officer Miller spoke, I hovered behind him, nodding frantically. “Yes, Mom, what exactly happened that night? Please try to remember.” “I’ve been stuck in this house for ten years; I really want to know.” My mother’s eyes finally showed a hint of wavering. Her voice caught in her throat. “I’ve already told you, I can’t remember.” “As soon as I try to recall what happened that day, my heart races, and I can’t breathe.” “If I try harder, I’ll pass out.” “It’s truly, too painful.” As my mother spoke, tears silently streamed down her face, as if she was reliving that suffocating terror. Watching my mother tremble, I instantly regained my composure. Yes, I can’t force her. Over the years, Mom had made so many efforts to recall that face hidden in the darkness. She returned to that alley again and again, standing where I fell, trying to recover her memory. She consulted countless psychologists, only to wake up screaming and crying during hypnosis. She even tried self-harm to force herself to remember. She knelt before statues in churches, banging her head until it bled, praying for clarity. Honestly, I don’t want to see her suffer like this. I floated desperately in front of her, trying to touch my mother’s face, to tell her to stop trying. Even if the killer was never found, it didn’t matter. But my hand only passed through her cheek again and again. I couldn’t comfort her. I could only watch helplessly as she said, “I’m sorry.” “I really want to help, to let Elara rest in peace, but I truly don’t want to go through this anymore.” 2 Honestly, being a ghost for all these years, I’ve lost a lot of emotion. But at this moment, I truly wished that the person who harmed me would face retribution. But what could I do? I could do nothing. I was just a soul wandering among the living. Thankfully, there was Dad. Dad was gentle by nature and adored Mom. I had never seen them argue. He was Mom’s strongest pillar of support, her right-hand man. At that moment, he quickly steadied Mom. Then, turning to Officer Miller, his tone hardened. “My wife has already said she doesn’t want to cooperate further.” “Please leave.” The two officers exchanged glances. The older one, Detective Brooks, still managed a few polite words. “It’s alright, not remembering isn’t your fault; it’s a normal reaction after such a shock.” The younger one, Officer Jenkins, already had a hint of emotion on his face. He muttered under his breath, “Doesn’t even care about her own child?” “What kind of parents are these?” The two officers left their business cards on the table and departed. As soon as they were gone, Dad threw the cards into the trash. Mom finally let down all her guard. She leaned on Dad’s shoulder, utterly still. Her voice was as low as a whisper. “Honey, am I useless?” Dad kissed her, holding her tighter. “If you can’t remember, don’t try anymore.” “Even if you never remember, I’ll never blame you.” But Mom’s tears suddenly welled up again. “Then tell me, will Elara hate me?” “Hate me… for clearly seeing who killed her, yet being unable to recall his face, unable to bring her justice.” The room was terrifyingly silent. Only Mom’s choked breathing. After a very long time, Dad finally lowered his eyes. “Don’t think about these unhappy things.” “Chloe will be out of school soon.” At the mention of that name, Mom’s sobbing stopped instantly. Chloe is my sister. She’s nine this year, lively and charming. So Mom rubbed her eyes, sighed softly. “Look at me, I forgot the time again.” “It’s time to make soup for Chloe.” 3 Actually, the day I was killed, a grim reaper came for me. But at that time, I begged, pleaded, and played dumb, saying I just wanted to spend more time with Mom. Maybe he pitied me. Maybe he was too lazy to explain anything to me. He just left without a word. And never came back. So I stayed in the house for ten years, living in constant apprehension. I watched as Mom, at first, held my photo, unable to sleep all night. Then gradually, she could sleep for an hour or two. But she always called my name in her dreams. And then, Mom gave birth to Chloe. She was so small. So soft. The darling of the whole family. And Mom and Dad’s hope for living. They didn’t mention my name to Chloe or their friends. But when it was just Dad, Mom would sometimes say a few words. “Chloe, this child, her personality is different from her sister’s.” “So mischievous, and so cute.” Yes, Chloe is light. Unlike me. I’m a shadow. Forever trapping them in place. Mom turned to the kitchen to make soup. Dad watched her back, a faint smile playing on his lips. He took out tools and began to adjust the stereo. The sound of running water in the kitchen. And the melody of a children’s song. They intertwined into a warm, domestic scene. It was as if the heartbreaking cries and agonizing questions from moments ago had never happened. I looked at Dad, then at Mom. For some reason, I suddenly didn’t want to stay home. I slowly floated out. Only then did I realize that the two police officers hadn’t left; they were resting downstairs from my house. I had seen the business card Dad threw in the trash. I knew the younger one was Officer Jenkins. He was true to his name—tall, long-legged, and full of integrity. He was indignantly saying, “What’s wrong with this family?” “Why are they so indifferent about their own biological daughter?” Detective Brooks was an old detective. My case had always been his. He exhaled a smoke ring, sighing slowly. “They do love their child. They’re just… too disappointed too many times.” My case had become a cold case. Several times people were arrested, only to be released later. Mom and Dad’s feelings had changed from initial madness, hatred, and blaming the world, to expectation, then to calm. Finally, they seemed to become bystanders. They would only say to those who cared about them, “It’s all over now.” “Let it be.” “Elara, if she has a spirit in heaven, will bless us to find the killer.” Officer Jenkins was still young. He didn’t seem to fully grasp his mentor’s logic. He wrinkled his nose. “Alright, I saw a lot of girl’s stuff at their house just now.” “It’s admirable of them, keeping Elara’s things exactly as they were for ten years.” Officer Jenkins didn’t finish his sentence. He saw a Buick minivan pull up at the entrance of the complex. Mom quickly jogged over to meet it. A girl hopped out of the car. She smiled so sweetly. A carbon copy of me, when I was alive. 4 Mother and daughter walked away hand in hand. Officer Jenkins snapped back to reality and scoffed. “No wonder they don’t care about Elara anymore.” “Turns out they have another daughter.” His tone was so bitter. It made me absolutely furious. I almost immediately rushed over, pointing at him and yelling. “How dare you say that about my parents? How dare you say they don’t care about me anymore!” “I’ve always been their most cherished, most beloved daughter! Always!” Unfortunately, I’m a ghost. The kind of ghost who stays in the human world due to obsession, with very little power. My hands can’t touch people. No matter how loud I scream, my voice won’t reach his ears. All my counterattacks did was stir a wisp of cool air. It ruffled his hair slightly. No one noticed me. Naturally, no one cared about my anger or joy. So I sulkily returned home. Dinner was already served. Three dishes and a soup, all Chloe’s favorites. She closed her eyes and showered them with praise. “Mommy’s chicken wings are the best! The best in the whole world!” I floated to the table, speaking sarcastically. “Is that all?” “When I was little, the chicken wings Mom made were truly delicious, much more flavorful than these.” Chloe ignored me and turned to praise Dad. “Dad fixed the stereo; he’s super amazing too.” A few words. And both of them were beaming. But I rolled my eyes so hard they almost went to the back of my head. This kid, I wonder who taught her. So young, yet already so good at sweet-talking. I irritably extended my finger, intending to flick Chloe on the forehead. “These chicken wings can’t shut you up!” “Say a few more words, and I’ll eat them all.” But my fingertip simply passed through the plate. My palm opened, still empty. And Chloe, happily, scooped the remaining chicken wings into her own bowl. I pouted. “So what?” “I was the first one to love chicken wings.” “Mom only made chicken wings because of me!” But no one could hear my words. I looked up again at Mom and Dad. They certainly weren’t looking at me. They were looking at Chloe. Their faces filled with loving smiles. Actually, I shouldn’t be jealous. Because when I was alive, they looked at me with the same eyes. But today, for some reason, I felt a little irritable. Maybe because I didn’t get any chicken wings. Maybe because of that mean officer’s provocation. Meanwhile, Chloe suddenly spoke. “Mommy, you promised me that when I get ten perfect scores, you’d set up an art studio for me.” She looked up, blinking. “Mommy, isn’t there an extra room in the house?” “Can I have it?” I jumped up like an angry rooster. “That’s not an extra room! That’s my room!” “You naughty child, why are you trying to steal my room?!” 5 After Chloe was born, my bedroom was locked. When she was little, she didn’t understand and cried to go in. My parents would coax her then, saying it was a secret room. She could only go in when she was older. But the year Chloe turned five, Mom forgot to lock it. She snuck in. She rummaged through everything in my room. She even pulled all my comic books out of my drawer and threw them all over the floor. When Mom found her, Chloe burst into tears. She thought Mom was going to hit her. But Mom said nothing. She just handed over the yellowed comic book. “If you like it, take it.” But Mom never told Chloe, “This book was your sister’s favorite. You must cherish it.” So I watched as Chloe took it to school. Then a naughty boy kicked it into a puddle. At this moment, facing Chloe’s request, Dad actually said something fair. “That room cannot be touched.” “How about this, I’ll partition a part of the living room for your art studio, how does that sound?” That was a good idea. But Mom suddenly objected. “No.” “That would make the house feel even smaller.” This house wasn’t very big. I was born here. Back then, Dad was still a junior clerk at his company. Mom’s career hadn’t taken off either. They didn’t have much money. It was after my death that their business grew bigger and bigger. But they never moved. Perhaps to preserve my memory. After all, they said this old house was filled with my traces. On the wall in the entryway, there were pencil lines. From a short little mark, all the way up. Finally stopping at the year I was fourteen. In the closet, Mom neatly folded all my school uniforms, as if I would still come home to wear them. But now, Mom put down her chopsticks and said casually, “Then let’s move.” Dad’s smile froze for a moment. “Honey, didn’t we say we’d keep…” He very tacitly avoided mentioning my name. They never mentioned my name in front of Chloe. But Mom nodded, becoming even more resolute. “We can’t just stay here forever because of what happened in the past.” “As for that room…” She looked back, her eyes complex. “No one will live in it anymore.”

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The day before my global piano master competition, intruders stormed into my home. They brutally murdered my parents and grievously harmed my sister, leaving her irrevocably traumatized. It was my childhood friend who bravely came to my rescue, apprehending the assailants and bringing them to justice. She also tenderly handled all the funeral arrangements for my family, as I was too distraught to leave the house. Though I was left with a persistent tremor in my hands, making it impossible to play the piano again, she remained steadfastly by my side. She even defied her parents’ objections to marry me. Five days before our wedding, I overheard her unexpected phone call with her private doctor from outside the door: “Ms. Sullivan, five years ago you hired someone to cause an accident to the Baker family. You’ve already ruined Mr. Baker once. Are you really going to be so cruel as to ruin him a second time?” “I promised Lucas I would help him achieve his dream.” “Only if Everett Baker was out of the picture could Lucas stand on that stage to receive the World Piano Master award.” “Lucas is my reason for being, my everything. For Lucas, I’m willing to bear any burden…” Outside the door, tears silently streamed down my face. My heartbroken eyes shattered, consumed by a fierce hatred. So, her so-called love for me was nothing but a lie. 1 “Investigate the truth behind the Baker family tragedy.” Only after making that call to the private investigator did I wipe the dry tears from my face. It seemed there were no more tears left to shed. Inside the room, Willow Sullivan’s voice resonated. “As long as Lucas is happy, I have no regrets.” The private doctor on the other end reluctantly asked, “But Mr. Baker’s hands have finally fully recovered. Are you sure you want to…” Willow’s answer was instantaneous, without a moment of hesitation. “Only by completely extinguishing his desire to play the piano can Lucas remain the most brilliant piano master.” The private doctor nervously pressed, “What if he finds out you orchestrated the accident for his parents and sister, all for Lucas to win an award?!” Willow fell silent for a moment, tracing the wedding ring on her finger. After a long pause, she spoke, her voice hoarse: “As long as I’m always good to him, he’ll never suspect me…” “I’ve already married him. Repaying him with my entire life, that should be enough.” Just a door away. Hearing these words, my heart, betrayed in that instant, nearly cried out in pain. My lips were bitten until they bled, my nails practically embedded in my flesh. I somehow maintained my composure, quietly returning to the room. In our wedding chamber, I gazed absently at our wedding photo hanging on the wall. In the picture, her eyes, filled with tenderness, now struck me as sinister and terrifying. On a nearby table sat our family photo. My father, mother, and sister, surrounding me, cherishing me. I still remembered that day when the intruders broke into our home. My father, trying to buy us time to escape, rushed forward to fight them but was tragically overcome and silenced. My mother, attempting to shield my sister and me, desperately blocked the door, only to be gravely injured. My sister, though physically unharmed by the intruders, was deeply scarred and traumatized by the horrific events. Had Willow not arrived in time to save me, I too would have perished. Yet, everyone whispered that I had led my family to their fate, that I had only survived by using their lives to buy time. I was powerless to defend myself. My adopted brother, Lucas Baker, seemed to share this belief. My reputation was ruined, my life plunged into an abyss. Under immense pressure, my mental health deteriorated, leaving me with a persistent tremor in my hands, making it impossible to play the piano, unable even to hold a fork steady. I truly believed I had abandoned my family and selfishly clung to life. When I was on the verge of jumping from the thirtieth floor, consumed by despair, it was Willow who pulled me back. Under her meticulous care, my condition gradually improved. I even accepted her proposal, despite the malicious rumors surrounding me. I never imagined that her love, which had melted my heart and soul, was the meticulously crafted product of endless malice. It was more chilling than poison disguised with honey. My hands, which hadn’t trembled in a long time, violently shook, sending our family photo crashing to the floor. Hearing the noise, Willow immediately rushed in. “Everett, what’s wrong…” Seeing me standing amidst sharp shards on the floor, clutching the broken family photo, my eyes red-rimmed, her breath hitched. She quickly walked over and pulled me into her embrace. The scent of wisteria perfume, one I’d smelled countless times, wafted over me. It was my favorite. Her voice was soft as she comforted me: “Don’t cry… Uncle and Auntie will be happy seeing you happy up in heaven.” I gently pushed her away, creating some distance. “I’m fine, it’s just my hand tremor acting up again.” Hearing my reply, Willow seemed to relax slightly. She gently felt my wrist bones, her touch so delicate, as if afraid to break them. “Get some rest. Tomorrow, we’ll go pick out the wedding dress.” I couldn’t distinguish her feelings for me. How much was genuine, how much was false? I had been countless times captivated by the subtle affection she showed, lost in it beyond recovery. Her pity for me seemed real. But her deception and manipulation were also real. Now, seeing that tender expression, I only felt disgust. I nodded, but didn’t tell her. Once I uncovered the truth of that year, it would be over between us. 2 Early the next morning, we drove to the city’s most renowned bridal boutique. With only four days left until the wedding, our outfits were still undecided. Willow had said she was hand-making a dress for me, a unique, one-of-a-kind gown. At the boutique, the assistant asked me to wait on the sofa. Willow smiled, pulling me down beside her. “You’ll love it.” In the past, I would have eagerly awaited the surprise she had prepared. But now, I only felt cynical. My phone rang. It was a message from the private investigator. Mr. Baker, I’ve found some past information about Willow Sullivan and Lucas Baker. I watched the messages pop up on my phone, unable to control my trembling hands. Seeing this, Willow quickly took my hand, asking worriedly, “What’s wrong?” I subtly withdrew my hand, suddenly feeling she was a complete stranger. It turned out her profound love, meticulous in its details, all carried Lucas Baker’s shadow. Under his influence, I had gradually grown to love wisteria perfume. It was a unique blend she had personally created for Lucas, his exclusive scent. That’s why she would spray it all over herself before we became intimate. I used to think it was a sign of her love for me. It was, in fact, proof that her heart belonged to someone else. Even the soft kiss she’d give me under the covers before sleep each night, was a habit Lucas had indulged in with her, a childish plea for affection. Willow looked at my withdrawn hand, momentarily stunned. Just then, the assistant brought out the suit she had designed for me. The moment I saw it, my heart seemed to stop beating. It was the most opulent attire I had ever seen. Beside it hung a pure white wedding dress, perfectly matched. Willow, smiling, looked at me expectantly, as if awaiting praise: “Everett, are you happy?” She said she had traveled to various countries, sought countless masters, and poured her heart and soul into designing this suit. But the video on my phone showed Lucas Baker wearing an identical suit, the very same “one-of-a-kind” suit right before my eyes. In the video, the two of them, dressed in a wedding gown and suit, spoke their vows with deep affection, swearing to dedicate their entire lives to each other. Every word was devoid of evasion or jest, utterly sincere. A wave of sorrow washed over me. I began to doubt if the fleeting pain in her eyes yesterday was truly due to concern for me, or if it was the guilt buried deep in her heart, taking root. 3 That day at the bridal shop, I didn’t give Willow Sullivan an answer. She was called away by a phone call and then vanished. She claimed it was a company emergency, but I knew it was for Lucas Baker. With only two days left until the wedding, I decided to visit my parents and my sister. I needed to tell them my decision. When I arrived at the cemetery, I saw the two people who least should have been there. Willow and Lucas Baker, dressed formally, stood before the graves of my parents and sister. Lucas held a trophy, representing the World Piano Master award, sobbing uncontrollably. “Dad, Mom, sis, your son wishes you could have witnessed this, seen that I haven’t disgraced you…” With that, Lucas placed the trophy at the grave and gently brushed dust from the photos. Willow reached out, as if to embrace his arm. My appearance instantly changed their expressions. Willow’s hand, about to reach Lucas, froze for a moment, then quickly dropped. She explained to me, “Everett, it’s not what you think. Lucas and I…” Her eyes held a nervous tension, her slender fingers unconsciously clenching. She seemed genuinely afraid I would misunderstand. I glanced at her, saying nothing. I just looked at Lucas and spoke softly: “Brother, when did you get back? Why didn’t you tell me before visiting Mom and Dad, and sis?” Lucas wiped the tears from his eyes and looked up again. “Your most unworthy son has finally achieved something. I wanted Mom and Dad to praise me.” He paused, his voice catching. “I hope you can forgive my selfishness…” Lucas broke down in tears again. Willow’s eyes were filled with complex emotions. Her hand rose several times but ultimately did not reach for his arm. “Brother, Everett is marrying Willow. He must have something to say. I borrowed Willow for a while; it’s time to give her back to Everett.” After Lucas left, Willow came over to me. Her anxiety escalated, her lips pressed into a thin line: “Lucas and I, it’s not what you think.” Seeing my silence, she seemed to panic, reaching out to grasp my hand. Suddenly, her phone vibrated with a distinctive ringtone. Her outstretched hand froze mid-air. I silently watched her struggle for a moment, then reach for her phone. In the past, whenever we were together, whether on a date, at dinner, or during more intimate moments, she had left me countless times because of that specific ringtone. She’d claimed it was an urgent work matter that couldn’t be postponed. But now I knew it was her exclusive ringtone for Lucas. She looked at me with guilt. “Lucas and I really have nothing going on. I have work to handle now. Please be careful going home alone.” With that, she hurried away. Watching her retreating figure, I felt neither sorrow nor joy. I simply looked at my family’s gravestones, the memory of that night replaying in my mind. My phone buzzed again with a new lead from the detective. All of this, finally, was coming to an end. 4 The final day before the wedding. The private investigator sent more clues. Mr. Baker, I’ve found some leads regarding the mastermind, but I hope you’re mentally prepared. I clicked on the video he sent. It was the same dimly lit, damp rental room. I noticed a shattered trophy on the floor. It was the second-place trophy from the national piano competition when I was fifteen. The first place had gone to me, after only a month of playing piano. In the video, Lucas Baker was crying hysterically in Willow Sullivan’s arms, his face contorted with a resentment I’d never seen before. “Why, why after ten years of hard practice am I still not as good as him…?” “I hate it so much, I can’t accept it… Why does he even exist? If he disappeared, if he died, the championship would be mine!” “The championship should have been mine all along!” Listening to the beast-like roar from his throat, listening to him curse me, damn me, wishing for my death, I watched the pain in Willow’s eyes harden into ice, as if she was making a grim decision. “I will help you achieve your dream, even if I have to bear everything…” My already fractured heart shattered completely. After calming down, I called Lucas Baker. He seemed to have been waiting a long time. “I thought you’d never come looking for me.” I pursed my lips and asked him, “Shall we meet?”

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My mother’s heart disease relapsed, and she desperately needed money for life-saving treatment. I summoned every ounce of courage to go to my secret boyfriend of ten years, a man worth over a hundred million, to borrow money. However, before I could even open my mouth, he coldly reprimanded me. His efficient female secretary immediately escorted me out of the conference room to wait. I waited for a grueling eight hours. Until the hospital called with the news of my mother’s death. My boyfriend seemed to remember my existence only then, instructing his secretary to usher me into his office. “Alright, tell me, what did you come here for?” A bitter, desolate laugh escaped my lips. “Nothing much. I just wanted to waste a bit of your time… and break up with you.” 1 “I just ended a ten-year relationship. Are you really sure you want to marry me?” The man sitting opposite me paused for a moment, then solemnly replied, “Eliza, I’ve waited for you for ten years.” My heart clenched sharply. “Okay, we’ll get married in seven days.” With our agreement made, I grabbed my bag and left the coffee shop, heading for the train station. This was the third day after my mother’s passing. For these three days, I had cried inconsolably every single day. The entire world knew my mother was gone. Yet, my boyfriend of ten years, Alex, remained utterly oblivious. We never shared our social circles. He never introduced me to his friends, nor did he ever care to meet mine. On top of that, Alex was a billionaire, every minute of his time calculated in thousands. So, he never bothered to stoop down and check my social media. Not only did he not know my mother had died, he didn’t even know she died because there wasn’t enough money for her surgery. So, as my mother’s ashes were laid into the earth, I decided to cut all ties with Alex and marry another man. A cold, drizzling rain began to fall, and my phone chimed right on cue. The message was from Alex’s secretary, Olivia. “Ms. Eliza, Mr. Alex is traveling tomorrow. Please prepare two pairs of leather shoes and three suits for him.” Reading Olivia’s commanding message, despite my firm resolve to break up with Alex, my heart still ached. For a significant part of my ten-year relationship with Alex, Olivia’s presence loomed large. I’d send Alex a playful message, and Olivia would be the one to reply. “Apologies, Ms. Eliza, Mr. Alex is in a meeting. I will relay your message.” Even mundane aspects of my and Alex’s daily life—buying contraceptives, groceries, clothes, everyday wear—were almost exclusively handled by Olivia. I disliked it immensely and had confronted Alex countless times. But each time, Alex would merely look at me calmly. “Eliza, you have no taste, no discernment. I’m having the more capable Olivia help you with these things. What’s the fuss about?” In the past, Alex’s words would always leave me speechless. But now, I had simply resigned myself. Indeed, how could a graduate from a regular university like me compare to Olivia, a postgraduate from a prestigious overseas institution? She was worldly, capable of dealing with clients externally, and could meticulously manage Alex’s daily life internally. Unlike me, who, after ten years at Alex’s company, was still an insignificant employee in the operations department. But now, a sneer simply played on my lips. If Alex valued Olivia so much, then I would just give him to her. I promptly replied to Olivia: “Secretary Olivia, I don’t have time to prepare clothes for Alex. If you don’t mind, you can personally go to the house and prepare them for your Mr. Alex.” 2 Olivia’s message was an instant reply: “Understood, Ms. Eliza, I will inform Mr. Alex.” A sharp, piercing pain once again shot through my heart. If not for the timely arrival of the ride-share, tears would have surely streamed down my face in the rain. This feeling of hitting a wall of cotton, utterly ineffective, had long since become utterly detestable. But thankfully, after a seven-hour train ride, my mood had significantly calmed by the time I arrived back at Alex’s villa. As soon as I entered, I saw Alex sitting on the sofa. His hair was still damp, and drops of water beaded on his skin beneath his open V-neck robe. This used to be the Alex I adored most. I instinctively pursed my lips, about to walk towards him. A seductive yet clear voice drifted from the bathroom. “Mr. Alex, may I dry your hair for you now?” As the words finished, a crimson figure emerged from the bathroom. I turned my head sideways, and my eyes met Olivia’s. Especially when my gaze fell upon her bright red nightgown, the mockery on my lips became impossible to suppress. You see, the nightgown Olivia was wearing was the only gift Alex had ever bought me with his own money. Because I cherished it so much, I had only worn it once since purchasing it. But now, it was draped across Olivia’s body. I took a deep breath. “Excuse me, I seem to have interrupted your evening. It appears I’ve returned at an inconvenient time.” With that, I picked up my suitcase and turned to leave. Alex, however, suddenly walked over and angrily grabbed me. “Eliza, what are you doing now? Olivia and I were drenched when we went on a site visit in the heavy rain, so we came back to the villa to change.” Honestly, I truly wanted to just endure it. After all, I was getting married to another man in four days. My only reason for returning was to resign and break up with Alex. But I didn’t care what Alex and Olivia did “improperly” outside. What I absolutely could not tolerate was Alex letting Olivia wear my nightgown and act like this in what I once considered our home, all while he and I were still technically together. “So you’re saying the hickeys on her body aren’t from you?” Yes, because this nightgown was a lingerie style—it was not only sheer but also quite revealing. So I instantly spotted the hickeys subtly hidden beneath the delicate fabric on Olivia’s skin. A flicker of panic crossed Alex’s face. Olivia, however, spoke up promptly, “Ms. Eliza, the hickeys on my body are my private business and have nothing to do with you. You have no right to question them. If you feel my presence is affecting you, I can avoid coming to this villa. But I hope you won’t always threaten to run away. Do you realize how busy Mr. Alex is? Constantly upsetting him like this, he’s only human, he gets tired too.” Olivia truly was a graduate from a prestigious university. In just a few sentences, she had branded me as unreasonable. Suppressing the surging pain in my heart, I was about to retort to Olivia. Alex then spoke with a cold face, “Eliza, you apologize to Olivia right now! Olivia is my assistant, not your emotional punching bag. I hope you won’t challenge my patience repeatedly.” My face pale, I met Alex’s gaze, not with anger, but with a bitter laugh. “Alex, you want me to apologize? Dream on!” 3 With that, I grabbed my suitcase and stormed back to my room in a fit of anger. As if to punish me, Alex did not come to my room that night. A bitter smile played on my lips as I thought about it. Though I was Alex’s girlfriend, I was more like his mistress. He could enter my room whenever he pleased. But if I wanted to find him, I had to knock and wait for his permission to enter. If he was in a bad mood, he wouldn’t even bother to reply with a simple “busy.” But now, it was actually quite convenient. With only four days left until my wedding, I didn’t want any more contact with him. When I woke up the next morning, Alex was already seated at the dining table. He gestured to the milk on the table. “Don’t you have a sensitive stomach? I had Esther warm up some milk for you.” This was Alex’s usual way of making peace. In the past, to give him an out, I would typically drink the milk down in one go, even though I detested it. Instead of taking the milk cup from his hand as usual, I called for Esther. “Esther, please bring me a bowl of porridge.” Alex, however, pushed the milk back into my hand. “I merely asked you to apologize to Olivia last night. Why are you suddenly so delicate? Olivia is my right-hand woman; you know I can’t lose her. If I upset her and she leaves, how will I manage my work?” Looking at his eyes, which held a gentle gaze, my heart instinctively tightened. Alex and I met during our internship. He was the boss, and I was a fresh intern. Since I didn’t know who the boss was when I first started, one time while buying coffee for my department, I asked him to press the elevator button for my floor. After that, I started receiving flowers every now and then, until a month later Alex called to invite me to dinner. At our first formal meeting in a five-star hotel, he was a gentleman, knowledgeable, and charming. I was smitten by him that very first night. Six months later, I moved into his villa. In the first year of our relationship, we were truly happy. He would personally bake all sorts of pastries for me. If I caught a cold or fell ill, he would abandon meetings to rush home and care for me. Because we wanted to keep our relationship private, when I worked late, he would also stay late in his office. Then, like thieves, we would secretly have late-night snacks and share kisses in his office. I was certain that the old Alex was madly in love with me. But ever since Olivia became his secretary, even a tender glance from him had become a luxury. I pulled at the corner of my mouth, stating lightly: “If you can’t do without Olivia, why don’t you just marry her? Tie her down in a marriage certificate; wouldn’t that be the safest option?” Alex’s impatience was evident. Even without guessing, I knew he would once again utter words about me being unreasonable. So I decided to speak first. “Alex, we’re brea—” Before I could finish, Olivia walked in from outside the villa. “Mr. Alex, it’s eight o’clock. We need to leave for the office now.” Alex immediately stood up with a cold face, grabbed his suit jacket, and followed her out. My punch landed on cotton once again. It didn’t hurt, but it was suffocating enough. 4 Soon after Alex and Olivia left, I also packed my bag and headed to the office. As soon as I arrived, my boss called me into his office. He looked at me helplessly and pushed a performance review across the desk. “Eliza, I’m really sorry. I truly did my best. I originally thought that after I left, this position would surely be yours, but to my surprise, the higher-ups rejected my recommendation with a unanimous vote.” Looking at the remorse in the department manager’s eyes, I calmly pulled out my resignation letter. “Mr. Chen, it’s alright. I’ve already decided to resign.” Mr. Chen looked at me in surprise. “Are you really going to resign? You’ve worked diligently at this company for ten years, solving so many problems. And now you’re leaving?” A bitter smile played on my lips. But it was precisely because I had worked diligently for ten years at the company, yet hadn’t achieved anything I truly desired, that I had to leave. Alex had once made a promise to me: as soon as I reached the position of Operations Manager, he would take me home to meet his parents, and we would get married. I believed his vow. I worked tirelessly, striving for performance. But no matter how hard I pushed myself, even if I had the best performance and evaluation in the company, the Operations Manager position changed hands again and again, but it was never mine. I had confronted Alex countless times, but each time he would just look at me coldly. “Eliza, if you can’t get that position, it means you’re not capable enough. You should reflect on where you need to improve, instead of making a scene and expecting me to use pillow talk for you.” That was the first time I felt a profound chill. Because besides desperately wanting to marry Alex, I also longed for recognition for my hard work. Perhaps the pain in my heart was too intense, and the tears in my eyes welled up uncontrollably. Fearing that I would expose my vulnerability in front of Mr. Chen, I hurriedly stood up: “Excuse me, Mr. Chen, I need to go to the restroom.” 5 Sobs mingled with the sound of the flushing toilet in the restroom. It was only then that I realized how much pain and resentment I had harbored during my ten years with Alex. And just as I was sobbing in the restroom, I heard voices outside the door. “I heard Mr. Chen from operations is leaving, and he recommended Eliza for the operations manager position.” “Secretary Olivia, others might not know, but we in the secretarial office all know that Mr. Alex once promised Eliza he would marry her if she became operations manager.” Olivia let out a cold laugh. “That fool Eliza, does she really deserve to marry Mr. Alex? Don’t worry, I stopped her from becoming operations manager before, and I’ll stop her again this time.” “That idiot Eliza, she’s really persistent. I’ve been subtly docking her year-end bonuses, trying to force her out of the company, but she’s just gritted her teeth and stayed.” A wave of intense hatred surged into my heart. Over the years at the company, all employees who achieved results received generous year-end bonuses. All long-term employees could get performance raises based on their tenure, but I was stuck at the entry-level salary. This was why I had to desperately beg Alex for money to pay for my mother’s medical treatment. I never imagined that Olivia was behind all of it. I furiously flung open the restroom door and stormed out. “Olivia, it was you, wasn’t it? You’ve been withholding my salary all these years!” “If you like Alex, why didn’t you just tell me? I would have let you have him! Why did you have to play these dirty tricks behind my back?” With that, I angrily lunged forward and slapped Olivia squarely across the face. Olivia’s face instantly contorted with fury. Just as I braced myself for her to slap me back. She suddenly knelt before me. “Ms. Eliza, I know you’re Mr. Alex’s girlfriend. I can’t provoke you, but can’t I at least avoid you? I’ll resign today. I just beg you, please don’t bully or hit me anymore. I know I was wrong, just let me off the hook.” Seeing Olivia’s actions, I froze for a moment. The next instant, a cold voice came from outside the restroom. “Eliza, what are you doing? This is a company, not your personal arena for acting like a shrew! Apologize to Olivia right this instant!” With that, Alex walked over and, with a face full of concern, helped Olivia up. “Are you alright? Where did she hit you? I’ll take you to the hospital immediately.” Olivia, however, cried and flung herself into Alex’s arms. “Mr. Alex… I’m fine… It’s all my fault. I shouldn’t have rejected Ms. Eliza’s application for Operations Manager. It’s only natural for her to resent me.” “I just couldn’t stand her using her seniority to throw her weight around in the company all these years, to the point where even Mr. Chen had to defer to her. Didn’t Mr. Chen even leave the company because he couldn’t take her anymore?” “But she actually threatened Mr. Chen to endorse her for Operations Manager. I truly didn’t want the company to be thrown into chaos because of her, so I was forced to reject her application for the position.” “But I never imagined Ms. Eliza would find out and then rush into the restroom to hit me!” Alex’s face darkened further. He gently patted Olivia’s back, then turned to me, his face alight with anger. “Eliza, do you really think I would marry you just because you became Operations Manager? Take a look at your social standing, do you even deserve me?” “For these ten years, I’ve fed you, clothed you. Do you genuinely believe you’re some high society lady? Go to HR right now, process your resignation, and get out of my company!” A sneer played on my lips. So, this was Alex’s true inner thought? So, from beginning to end, Alex only saw me as a mistress, not a girlfriend. In truth, I had known the answer long ago; I just wasn’t willing to admit it. Tears slipped from my eyes. I calmly wiped them away and pulled out my resignation letter. “No need for you, Mr. Alex, to personally escort me out. I’ll leave on my own. Here’s my resignation letter.” 6 I had never called Alex “Mr. Alex” before. So when the distant “Mr. Alex” left my lips, it stung Alex, causing him to involuntarily furrow his brow. He was about to say something when Olivia’s whimpering began. “Mr. Alex, I’m feeling a bit dizzy. Could you please take me to the hospital?” He then reverted to his cold demeanor. I scoffed and shook my head, turning to walk out of the restroom. Ten years of love, finally reaching its curtain call. I went straight back to Alex’s villa, pulled out my suitcase, and started packing my clothes. But as I packed, I realized that my personal belongings only filled two suitcases. Everything else—bags, jewelry—had been purchased by Olivia, reflecting her taste. Especially when I saw the men’s ring I had hidden in the corner of my dressing table. I couldn’t help but shed tears. This ring was my father’s heirloom, and I had once given it to Alex. Alex had accepted the ring at the time. Yet, I never saw him wear it. Until one day, I accidentally went to his study and saw the ring discarded in the trash can. That’s when I knew Alex and I wouldn’t last. With my belongings packed, I hauled my suitcases downstairs. As I reached the villa’s entrance, I bumped into Alex returning home. He looked at me with a slight frown. “Are you running away from home again? You just ran off two days ago and came back with your tail between your legs. Aren’t you tired of this game yet?” A bitter laugh escaped my lips. So, for those three days I was gone after my mother passed, Alex thought I was just throwing a tantrum. No wonder he didn’t call to ask about me. No wonder the sneer on Alex’s face was so evident when I returned. I looked at him calmly. “Alex, let’s break up.” Just then, the ride-share arrived. I didn’t care how clouded his expression was. I put my suitcase in the trunk and opened the car door. Before I left, Alex stopped me, his voice cold. “Eliza, if you leave this time, I won’t let you come back to me. I won’t tolerate you challenging my patience again and again.” I scoffed, looking at him. “Alex, rest assured, I, Eliza, wouldn’t come back even if it meant my death.” With that, I got into the ride-share and drove away. Watching the fleeting trees outside the window, I knew my ten-year Cinderella dream was utterly shattered.

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