Author: Momo Chan

My wife’s true love had an accident, and she was convinced it was my fault. No matter how much I swore, no matter how many times I begged or provided evidence, Karen refused to believe me. She was certain that I, driven by jealousy, had tried to kill her beloved Michael. So, she made her decision. Cold and decisive, she sent me off to a hellhole of a coal mine to “reflect on my sins.” Life in the mine was brutal. The work alone could break a man, but that wasn’t enough for Karen. She made sure I received “special attention”—round-the-clock torment from the guards she’d paid to oversee me. I didn’t last long. Karen didn’t bother to check on me until three years later. By then, I’d been dead for over two years. Three years ago, Karen accused me of attempted murder and had me sent to a coal mine to reflect and atone for my supposed sins. No matter how much I pleaded, no matter how many pieces of evidence I presented, even if I got down on my knees and begged her, she refused to listen. She was convinced that, out of jealousy, I had plotted to harm the love of her life—Michael. Life in that coal mine was anything but easy. Especially when Karen had arranged for “special care” to ensure my suffering continued day and night. It didn’t take long before I died there. When Karen, her expression cold and her brows furrowed, arrived at the mine with her bodyguards to “check on me,” I had already been dead for two and a half years. “Whether he agrees or not, I don’t care. Tie him up if you must, but get his signature on the donation form!” The visiting room was warm and cozy, but her icy voice cut through the air, making the temperature feel like it had plummeted to the dead of winter. She looked around with irritation, clearly disgusted by her surroundings, and snapped at her bodyguards, “What’s taking so long? Bring him out to see me—now!” After what felt like an eternity, the foreman of the mine finally appeared at the door. But he wasn’t bringing me with him. “Karen, I’m sorry to make you wait, but…” “But what?” Karen’s expression turned instantly colder. The foreman stammered, “It’s just… Daniel won’t be able to come see you.” “Won’t see me? Ha!” Karen sneered. “What’s that supposed to mean? Enjoying himself too much here? Three meals a day without a care in the world while he hides from me?” “Tell him this: as long as he voluntarily donates a kidney, I’ll let him stay here as long as he likes—even until he dies!” She ordered the foreman to deliver the message, thinking it’d lure me out. What she didn’t know was that I was already floating above her, my ghost watching her with a bitter smile. The foreman didn’t move. Karen noticed his hesitation and immediately narrowed her eyes. “What’s wrong? Is Daniel that unwilling to see me?” The foreman shook his head quickly. “No, it’s not that. It’s just… he’s not here anymore. He hasn’t been here for a long time.” Of course. All that was left of me was my invisible spirit. My body had been gone for years. The day I died, they couldn’t stand how gruesome my corpse looked, so they threw me out. By now, I’m sure my body has been reduced to fertilizer by some stray dog out there. Karen, however, didn’t believe a word of the foreman’s explanation. She ordered her bodyguards to keep an eye on him as she began searching the mine herself. Room by room, she went—checking the dorms, the break room, the kitchen. She even scrutinized every name on the employee roster. But no trace of me could be found. Her frustration grew with every passing moment. Rage simmered beneath her icy demeanor as she turned back to the foreman. “I told you no one was to let him leave. Are you deaf, or do you just enjoy defying my orders?” The foreman, who had been nothing but her loyal lapdog, would never have dared to let me go. Three years ago, when Karen’s men tortured me until I was barely alive, I had begged the foreman on my knees to let me out for treatment. He hadn’t even flinched. I had bled, I had wept, I had smashed my head against the ground until it was covered in blood, but the foreman never once relented. Karen sat down, her face frostier than ever, and gave the foreman one last ultimatum: “You have five minutes. Bring him to me.” Cornered, the foreman sighed deeply and finally confessed. “Karen… I’ll tell you the truth. Daniel is… he’s dead.” “He died horribly. His entire body was covered in wounds. The walls and floor were smeared with blood from where he bashed his head and clawed with his fingernails until they were gone. The day he died, we… we threw his body out to the dogs.” Karen didn’t believe him. If anything, her irritation only deepened. “Stop lying to me. What did Daniel offer you to help him escape? Do you think you can deceive me and get away with it?” “Michael’s been stuck in a wheelchair for life because of him. Does he think death will excuse him? Or worse, did you two conspire together to fool me?” The foreman panicked. “No, no! Karen, I wouldn’t dare! You’re my boss—I’d never betray you!” Desperate to prove his innocence, he fumbled in his pocket and pulled out a photograph, placing it on the table. “This is a picture I took at the time. Please, Karen—don’t let anyone else see it…”

Karen cast a doubtful glance at the foreman, her gaze landing on the photo he placed before her. The moment her eyes focused on it, her pupils contracted sharply. The image showed a figure, barely recognizable as human. The body was contorted into an unnatural, agonizing curve, covered head to toe with cuts, bruises, and swollen welts. Blood streaks ran across the face, obscuring any identifying features. The skin was a patchwork of dark purple scabs, with no unbroken area to be found. The fingernails appeared to have been ripped out, exposing raw, bloody tissue beneath, where nerves and flesh were left mangled and torn. From the state of the body, it was clear—the person in the photo was long, irreversibly dead. Karen froze for a moment, her eyes widening involuntarily. But soon, she broke into a cold, mocking laugh. “The makeup job is impressive. For a second, I almost believed this was Daniel.” “Do you really think I’m stupid enough to fall for this? How could he possibly end up like this? All he does here is eat, drink, and work in the mine. What could’ve hurt him this badly?” “And,” she added with a sneer, “if he really was dying, why wouldn’t he be taken to a hospital? No, this is obviously fake!” Her words stabbed at me like knives. Floating invisibly above her, I felt a deep ache in my hollow chest. It was her, after all, who arranged for me to be “taken care of,” ensuring I could never leave. How could I have died here in such misery if she hadn’t ordered it? I remembered the last time they beat me. After that, I couldn’t hold on anymore. I knelt on the ground, begging the foreman to call her. But she had only relayed a single message: “If he’s going to die, let him die quickly. Don’t disgust me with his whining.” Even though Karen had clearly stopped caring about me, my will to survive still burned. I smashed my head against the ground repeatedly, the sound echoing through the grimy room. Blood mixed with dirt, forming a dark, sticky sludge that dripped down in slow, heavy drops. The foreman, perhaps out of some faint flicker of pity, finally spoke to me. “It’s not that I don’t want to let you out. It’s just… what’s the point?” “You got money? The nearest hospital’s hundreds of miles away. How do you plan to get there? And don’t forget, all your ID—everything that proves who you are—is in your wife’s hands.” “Just hold on. If you make it through this, it’s fate. If you don’t… well, that’s fate too. Next time, kid, marry someone kinder.” His words made me laugh bitterly. Fate, huh? I collapsed onto the floor like a deflated balloon, utterly defeated. Blood bubbled up from my mouth, but I swallowed it back down, forcing myself to crawl toward the dormitory. Maybe I could rest there for just a little while. But rest was a luxury I couldn’t afford anymore. Ten minutes later, the foreman had me dragged from my bloodstained bed and thrown back into the coal mine. That was where I finally collapsed for the last time, never to rise again. Karen glanced at the foreman, whose face was filled with unease, and let out a cold scoff. “Enough with the theatrics! Stop wasting my time!” “Tell Daniel to get his ass out here. If he agrees to donate his kidney, I’ll let him go—and I’ll even throw in an extra $20,000.” Floating above them, my spirit felt colder than the bitterest winter wind. So this was it. My kidney was worth $20,000 to her. Less than the cost of one of the designer jackets she’d bought for Michael. Let alone the millions she’d casually spent on that concept supercar for him, a gift she didn’t even blink at. Her indifference? That was reserved only for me. All her love—all her warmth—was saved for Michael. The foreman continued to try to explain, but Karen was stubborn, convinced that I was hiding somewhere and that the two of us were conspiring to deceive her. “You said he’s dead? Then where’s the body? The grave? A single photo isn’t proof of anything!” “I’m warning you—if you don’t hand him over today, I’ll make your life a living hell.” With no other option, the foreman gritted his teeth and led her outside to a barren patch of land. Pointing at a small, overgrown mound, he said reluctantly, “This is where we dumped him.” Karen’s face darkened as she issued a cold, cutting order to her bodyguards. “Dig. I want him found—alive or dead.”

Digging up someone’s grave is seen as a line you simply don’t cross—a vile act, no better than arson or murder. But Karen stood there, cold and detached, watching her bodyguards claw away at my grave with shovels, showing not a shred of sympathy. I hovered above, staring at her in pain and disbelief. I never thought her hatred for me could run this deep. The foreman, perhaps feeling a twinge of guilt, stood off to the side with his hands clasped together, muttering prayers under his breath, as though hoping my ghost wouldn’t come after him for vengeance. But his moment of solace didn’t last long. A bodyguard grabbed his arm and dragged him to the edge of the now-dug-up mound of dirt. The grave was empty. Nothing. No bones. No body. Just cold, barren soil. “Where is he? Where are the bones? Didn’t you say Daniel was buried here?” Karen’s voice was sharp, the kind of sharp that precedes an explosion. She glared at the foreman, her anger bubbling beneath the surface like a volcano about to erupt. “It’s just dirt!” she snapped. “You better not be telling me you got the wrong spot!” The foreman’s eyes widened as he stared into the empty pit, disbelief plastered all over his face. “I… I swear this is the right place! I saw wild dogs sniffing around his body, and I—I couldn’t stand it! That’s why I buried him here myself! This… this doesn’t make sense!” Even I felt a flicker of confusion. My body was here—wasn’t it? Karen, though, had run out of patience. She folded her arms and cut him off with a bitter laugh. “So, let me guess—now you’re going to tell me the dogs dug him back up and ate him?” “Unbelievable. Absolutely unbelievable. All these years, and no one’s ever managed to fool me like this before!” Her voice grew icier with every word. “Daniel. You. All of you. You’re all just great.” The foreman stammered, trying to explain, but before he could get another word in, Karen’s phone rang. The second she saw the name on the screen, her frosty demeanor melted away entirely, replaced by a softness so tender it was almost sickening. “Michael,” she cooed, her voice dripping with warmth. “How are you feeling today? Don’t worry—I’ll make sure Daniel willingly donates his kidney for you!” Michael. Him. The very person responsible for me being thrown into that coal mine. The reason I suffered and died in agony. The one who started it all. On the other end of the line, Michael’s voice was weak, barely above a whisper. “Karen… you really don’t have to go through all this trouble for me. My condition—” “Stop it!” Karen interrupted, her tone suddenly frantic, as though the mere suggestion of giving up was unbearable to her. “Don’t say things like that. I promised you I’d save you, and I will!” “If it weren’t for you donating one of your kidneys to me back then, I might not even be alive today. And now your other kidney is… well, don’t worry. If Daniel’s is a match, I’ll track him to the ends of the earth if I have to!” I frowned. Wait, what? Since when did Michael save Karen’s life? There was a brief pause on the other end of the call before Michael hesitantly asked what was going on. Karen explained the situation—how I had supposedly “disappeared” and how no one could find me. And then, to my shock, Michael said something that made my non-existent heart skip a beat. “That’s impossible,” he said, sounding surprised. “Daniel just called me earlier today. He said he’s leaving the country.” He paused before adding, almost casually, “Oh, and he said he left something for you at the old house. Once you see it, everything will make sense.” What?! I wanted to scream, to yell, to warn Karen not to believe him. He was lying! He was manipulating her, like he always did. But no matter how hard I tried, no sound came out. Even when I floated right in front of her, waving my hands wildly, she didn’t notice me at all. After hanging up the phone, Karen’s expression turned ice-cold again. She shot one last glare at the foreman before turning on her heel and leaving without another word. Half an hour later, Karen arrived at the old house where we used to live. It was a modest two-bedroom place—a cozy little home that had once been our sanctuary, filled with warmth and love back when we were happy. Without hesitation, Karen pushed the door open and stepped inside. Her face was set in a hard, determined expression, but there was a flicker of something else—nostalgia, maybe, or bitterness—as her eyes scanned the familiar surroundings. In the living room, on the coffee table, she spotted an envelope. She picked it up, opened it, and pulled out a single sheet of paper. There was only one sentence written on it. “Karen, you’ll never find me.”

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### Because of my sister’s death, my parents came to despise me completely. “You’re so cruel! Why wasn’t it you who died instead?” “Don’t call me Mom. I’m not your mother anymore. You don’t have parents. Get out of this house!” They didn’t just cut me off—they replaced me. They took in a girl they had been sponsoring for years through a charity program, treating her like the daughter they wished they’d had. Years later, that girl developed kidney failure. My mother, a coldly methodical doctor, didn’t hesitate. She harvested one of my kidneys to save her. My father, a high-powered executive and ever the enabler, refused to cover my medical bills. I was left to fend for myself, discharged from the hospital with nowhere to go. Just a few hours after the surgery, a brain tumor I’d been silently battling flared up. I collapsed alone, in the middle of a filthy, reeking alley. And there, surrounded by garbage, I died—forgotten and unloved. I’m dead now, but the searing pain in my back still clings to my soul. I floated helplessly through the hospital halls, my spirit anchored to that place. There they were—my mother and father—sitting anxiously by Ellie’s bedside. Their faces were etched with worry, their eyes fixed on her with a tenderness I had never known. They had never looked at me that way. For me, their eyes were always cold, filled with disgust. “You’re nothing but a burden! Just get out of my sight!” “Don’t come back! I’ve done enough for you. We’re done!” And now, outside Ellie’s hospital room, I heard my mother’s voice, sharp and dismissive: “Thank God Sofia’s kidney was a match for Ellie. That useless girl finally served a purpose!” Three hours ago, my own mother had taken my kidney. As punishment, she refused to allow any anesthesia. I was strapped to the operating table, unable to move, unable to escape, writhing in excruciating pain. Her voice echoed in my mind, cold and detached: “This is what you deserve for killing your sister. You have to atone for your sins.” “This pain? It’s exactly what you should feel.” My father stood nearby, silently watching, handing her the scalpel without hesitation. For years, I thought I had been the one who caused my sister’s death. But as I lay there, consumed by the agony of losing my kidney, fragments of a long-buried memory surfaced. It wasn’t me who pushed my sister into the water. It was Ellie—the girl my parents had so lovingly taken in.

Sometimes, I wonder if the truth even matters. After all, my parents hate me so much. But I still found the strength to call my father, desperate to tell him what I had remembered. His response was a cruel, mocking laugh. “Lying again, huh? Do you even hear yourself?” “How could I have raised a daughter like you? Ellie would never do something like that. She’s perfect. But you? You’re the only one capable of something so vile.” Prejudice is like a mountain—unyielding, immovable. And in my father’s heart, that mountain had been standing tall for years. Convinced I was lying, he refused to pay for my hospital stay. “Dad, I don’t have any money…” I pleaded. “Liar!” he spat. “Aren’t you always working part-time jobs? You’re just too selfish to spend your own money!” He didn’t know my part-time job earnings went to pay for medication. Long shifts, skipped meals, endless stress—I had worked myself into stomach cancer. But there was no point in telling him. When I showed him my diagnosis report, he barely glanced at it before ripping it to shreds. “Do you think I have time for this nonsense?” he snapped. “I’m perfectly healthy, and I’m twice your age. You’re young—how could you possibly have cancer? Faking a medical report? Really? If it’s true, then just go ahead and die already!” Now I’m dead. But it wasn’t cancer that killed me. It was the post-surgery infection I couldn’t afford to treat. When I told my father I had spent all my money on medication, he scoffed. “Then sell yourself!” he said with a sneer.

A nurse called my mom to let her know I had disappeared from my hospital room. “She should be in her bed, recovering. We can’t find her anywhere,” the nurse explained. My mother sighed, clearly annoyed. “So? What do you want me to do about it?” she said. “Do you think I can magically find her?” When Ellie went missing, my mom had been frantic, calling everyone she could think of to help. But for me? She didn’t care. Standing next to her, Dr. King, an attending physician, frowned. “That girl didn’t look well the last time I saw her,” he said. “Her lips were pale. She probably shouldn’t have been out of the hospital in the first place. As her mother, shouldn’t you have noticed something?” Even strangers showed me more concern than my own mother. But she quickly cut him off. “Do you even know what she’s done?” she snapped. “That girl is no daughter of mine. My husband and I disowned her a long time ago. If she’s gone, it’s just another one of her attention-seeking games. She’s always pulling stunts like this.” “She’s not missing,” my mother added dismissively. “She’s just waiting for us to come running after her like usual. It’s her only trick.” Dr. King stared at her in disbelief. “Even if that’s true, she’s still a child. How can you be this heartless? She’s your daughter!” “Not anymore,” my mother said coldly. “If she’s dead, let me know so I can collect the body.” Dr. King was furious. “I thought doctors were supposed to be compassionate,” he said, his voice trembling with anger. “But you can’t even show basic decency to your own child. It disgusts me.” He stormed out, leaving my mother unfazed. I felt guilty for causing Dr. King so much frustration. If it weren’t for me, he wouldn’t have had to argue with my mother. After my father refused to pay my hospital bills, the nurses tried to reassure me. “No parent would just abandon their child,” one of them said gently. “Just stay here and rest. They’ll come around eventually.” But I knew better. I knew my parents far more intimately than they could imagine. To avoid causing the hospital any more trouble, I dragged myself out of the room, my legs weak and unsteady. Somewhere behind me, I heard a nurse calling out: “Wait! You just had surgery—you’re not well enough to leave!” Another voice muttered, confused: “When did she even have surgery? I don’t see her name on the schedule…” Now I’m gone. I’ll never be a burden to anyone again.

They waited anxiously outside the operating room. My mom, usually so confident in her medical expertise, was pacing nervously. For once, the composure she prided herself on was nowhere to be found. “What if something goes wrong?” she murmured, wringing her hands. “I performed Ellie’s surgery myself… but what if I missed something?” My dad tried to reassure her. “She’ll be fine,” he said firmly. “Ellie’s a fighter. Everything’s going to be okay.” I drifted above them, watching through the window as Ellie lay in her hospital bed. Her surgical wound had been stitched with meticulous care, her body tucked neatly under a soft blanket. She looked serene, like a child resting peacefully in a world where she was deeply loved. She was the daughter nurtured and cherished by my parents, their pride and joy. But me? I was never that. When my mom stitched my wounds, her hands were rough, her movements hurried—like even a moment spent caring for me was a waste of her time. I remembered the nurse who had tried to stop her earlier. “Dr. Turner,” the nurse had said hesitantly, “you still have other patients waiting in your clinic today…” But my mom cut her off sharply. “Cancel everything. Reschedule all of them. I’m not seeing anyone else until Ellie wakes up!” “But some of them drove hours to see you…” “And? Let them book someone else, or they can wait! I don’t care. My focus is on Ellie right now—nothing else matters.” It was rare to see my mom so emotional. She was usually the perfect professional: her white coat pristine, her glasses perched neatly on her nose, her demeanor precise and detached, like a machine engineered to respond to every patient’s needs. But whenever Ellie got sick, her calm façade shattered. She became frantic, consumed. The nurse fell silent. Then my mom seemed to remember me. She frowned and turned to my dad. “Where’s Sofia?” “She’s gone,” my dad said with a shrug. “I didn’t pay her hospital bills.” Mom smirked. “Good. That’s exactly what we agreed on.” And then, as if nothing had happened, they began discussing how to use the money they’d saved on my medical expenses. “We should get Ellie a surprise,” my mom said, her voice soft now, almost giddy. They went online and ordered everything they could think of: a massive bouquet of fresh flowers, Barbie dolls, stuffed animals, glittering toys… The packages arrived quickly, and soon the gifts were piled high, a colorful mountain of every little girl’s dream. As I watched them, I couldn’t help but think of something else—a memory from not so long ago. I was sitting near a garbage dump, tired and weak, my body aching from the infection that was slowly killing me. A little girl passed by with her mom, holding a worn-out teddy bear. The girl frowned, wrinkling her nose at the toy. “It’s so ugly!” she complained before tossing it into the trash. As they walked away, the girl glanced back at me a few times, her eyes filled with curiosity. Maybe she was wondering why I looked so dirty, so ragged. Maybe she thought I was ugly too. I stared at the discarded teddy bear. Its fur was matted, its seams fraying, but its button eyes still gleamed brightly in the sunlight. For a moment, I wanted to move. I wanted to reach out, grab that little bear, and hold it close. But then I stopped myself. The bear, even in its brokenness, was still too good for someone like me. I didn’t deserve anything beautiful.

They were brainstorming what else they could do to make Ellie happy when my dad suddenly snapped his fingers. “Ellie’s always wanted to feel like she’s truly part of our family. Why don’t we just make it official? Add her to our family records!” My mom’s face lit up with approval. “That’s a great idea! Go grab the paperwork right away!” As my dad hurried off, a nurse approached my mom, her expression tense. “Dr. Turner, this isn’t just some misunderstanding. Several people saw Sofia leave the building on her own. She just had surgery—where could she possibly go?” “And there was blood,” the nurse added hesitantly. “A lot of it. The janitor’s still scrubbing the floors—it’s everywhere.” From the third-floor railing, you could see the trail of blood leading all the way out of the hospital doors. The janitor, hunched over, was painstakingly cleaning it up. I watched from above, feeling a pang of guilt. I was sorry for making her job harder. But at the time, I couldn’t stop the blood. It kept pouring out, soaking through everything. I was terrified. It felt like I was bleeding out every drop of life I had left. My mom glanced at the nurse, clearly annoyed, and waved her off dismissively. “Stop telling me about her! God, I’m so sick of this! Why is everyone so concerned about that girl? Honestly, the world would be better off if she just died and got it over with. Then we’d all have some peace!” “Do you think you know her better than I do? I’m her mother! This is just another one of her dramatic stunts.” The nurse hesitated, then turned and left, likely realizing there was no point in arguing. Just then, Dr. King stormed down the hallway, his face flushed with anger. He marched up to my mom, clutching a stack of papers in his hand. “You took your own daughter’s kidney… to save your foster daughter?!” He held up the documents, his voice shaking with disbelief. “If I hadn’t checked the surgery logs today, I wouldn’t have even known! Do you realize that harvesting an organ without proper authorization is illegal? You’ve broken the law! And that was your biological daughter! Do you have any humanity left?!” Dr. King’s hands trembled as he thought of the girl in the operating room—me. He’d watched the footage of the surgery, seen the pain I endured, and now his chest tightened with rage and sorrow. This man, a stranger to me, felt more for me in that moment than my own family ever had. My mom faltered for a second, but she quickly regained her composure. She reached into her bag and pulled out a document: the organ donation consent form. “She signed it herself,” my mom said coolly. “I didn’t force her.” Technically, she wasn’t lying. She had tossed the blank form onto the table in front of me and said, “Ellie needs a kidney, and you’re a perfect match. If you have any sense of decency, you’ll know what to do.” I had stared at those bold words on the paper, my stomach twisting with dread. My hand instinctively touched my side, where my kidney was. I hesitated. That brief pause was all my mom needed to unleash her fury. “I knew it!” she snapped. “You’re a selfish, ungrateful brat! You killed your sister, and now you’re just going to sit back and watch your little sister die too?” “It’s just a kidney,” she continued, her voice dripping with scorn. “You have two—you’ll be fine. It’s not like I’m asking for your life!” Her disappointment in me was palpable, cutting deeper than any scalpel. Her eyes burned with contempt, making me feel like I was nothing. She didn’t force my hand, but the weight of her disdain crushed me until I signed the paper, tears blurring my vision. Dr. King’s voice broke through the memory, furious and unrelenting. “She’s your daughter. How could she possibly refuse you?” “Even if she signed the form, did the hospital approve it? Was it filed properly? And you think you can just use the hospital’s resources for a personal surgery? Do you even remember the oath you took as a doctor?” My mom’s confidence wavered for a moment, her eyes darting away. But then she straightened her shoulders, her tone turning defensive. “I’m scheduled to represent the hospital at the medical conference next week,” she said. “My paper on internal medicine is being published. Do you really think the hospital can afford to lose me right now?” Dr. King’s expression darkened, his eyes narrowing in disbelief. Seeing that she had regained the upper hand, my mom softened her tone, her voice almost sweet. “Trust me,” she said. “Once Ellie wakes up, I’ll go look for Sofia. I’m sure she wouldn’t want her mother to lose her job over this.” Dr. King clenched his fists, his face red with anger. “I don’t want anything to do with you anymore,” he said, his voice low but firm. With that, he grabbed his lab coat, tore off a piece of the fabric, and threw it to the ground. It was a symbolic gesture, a severing of ties. My mom’s eyes flickered with something—regret? Anger? It was hard to tell. But then she rolled her eyes and muttered, “That old fool thinks he’s so important.” She turned back to the pile of gifts they had bought for Ellie, her expression hardening. “And Sofia,” she said under her breath, “she’s nothing but trouble. Always has been.”

While my dad was on his way back from the house, carrying the paperwork to make Ellie their official daughter, he passed by the dumpster behind the hospital. Something about the air made him pause. He furrowed his brow, pulled out his phone, and called me. Of course, I couldn’t answer. Frustrated, he ended the call and started typing furiously instead: “Sofia, how long are you going to keep this up? Haven’t you had enough of your little tantrum?” “Fine. If it’s about money, I’ll pay your hospital bill. But seriously, for someone your age, you’re already such a manipulative little schemer. Enough with the games!” He thought I was just sulking, throwing another fit to get his attention. If he had just taken a moment to glance at the pile of trash in front of him, he would’ve found my body. I was right there, buried under that heap of garbage. Through the haze, I could even see my own foot, peeking out from beneath a crumpled chip bag. But he didn’t look. He just spat on the ground in irritation and walked away. When he returned to the hospital, Ellie was awake. Pale and fragile, she lay against the pillows, her eyes fluttering open. Dad’s face lit up as he rushed to her bedside. Mom was already there, arranging a mountain of stuffed animals around her, their colorful shapes crowding the bed. A fresh bouquet of flowers sat on the windowsill, dew glistening on the petals. Ellie’s face brightened with joy. “Thank you, Uncle and Auntie!” she said, her voice weak but full of gratitude. Dad grinned and leaned closer. “Oh, there’s an even bigger surprise for you!” He pulled out the paperwork he’d brought back, holding it up proudly. “How would you like to be our real daughter? From now on, you can call us Mom and Dad.” My dad—a man who had faced boardrooms full of CEOs, negotiated million-dollar deals—was suddenly nervous, his voice trembling with anticipation. Even my mom, usually so composed, seemed a little anxious. “Ellie,” she said softly, “you… you don’t think we’re too old, do you?” Tears welled up in Ellie’s eyes. She choked back a sob and whispered, “I just… I just feel so lucky. So happy…” And then they hugged, the three of them, a picture-perfect family wrapped in their own little bubble of joy. It was the kind of ending you’d see in a movie—warm, perfect, full of love. I watched from above, my spirit suspended in the air. But my heart felt hollow, as if a piece of it had been carved out. Blood ties are supposed to be the strongest bond in the world. But for me, they were chains—binding me so tightly that they cut into my skin, leaving me bleeding and broken. If I hadn’t been their child, maybe I could’ve run far, far away. Maybe I could’ve escaped this family without hesitation. But I wasn’t so lucky. Downstairs, a piercing scream shattered the quiet of the hospital grounds. “Someone’s dead!” “There’s a body in the dumpster!” The sound carried faintly, but my family didn’t hear it from where they stood. They were too far away, too caught up in their moment of happiness. Then a nurse came running, her face pale with shock as she reached my parents. “We found Sofia!” she blurted out, her voice trembling. Mom and Dad turned to her, startled. “She’s dead,” the nurse continued, struggling to keep her composure. “That body in the dumpster… it’s your daughter.”

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Boyfriend’s First Love Fakes Jumping into River, I End Up Abused ### The last thing Aria ever said to me was: “Do you know what’s stronger than true love? Dead true love.” And with a faint, bitter smile, she leapt off the high bridge. By some cruel twist of fate, Tyler and my brother happened to witness the exact moment she jumped. From that day forward, my life became a relentless act of atonement for Aria. Whenever Tyler or my brother thought of her, they would drag me back to that bridge, pressing my head down against the cold, rough pavement, forcing me to apologize for something I could never undo. For five years, I lived in the dust, crushed under the weight of their grief and my guilt. Tyler eventually stopped calling me a murderer. My brother, for the first time in five years, sat across from me at the dinner table. It felt like I could finally breathe again. But then Aria came back. She showed up out of nowhere, tears streaming down her face as she ran toward them, telling them how hard the past five years had been for her. I stood there silently, watching as their anger reignited. When they turned toward me, ready to shove my head down again in the name of her pain, I made my decision. I looked at them, then at the bridge. And just like Aria had done years ago, I jumped. This time, it’s my turn to start over.

On the seventh day after Aria jumped, Tyler and my brother, Brandon, tied a thick rope around me seven times before tossing me aside like a piece of trash. “Brandon,” Tyler growled, “if you hadn’t lied about me while I was drunk, Aria wouldn’t have spiraled into depression!” Tyler’s voice cracked with anger, but Brandon snapped back. “Oh, give me a break! You were the one stringing her along, breaking her heart over and over! I just helped you make a decision!” Their argument raged on, every word cutting through me even though I wasn’t the topic of their blame. My mouth was sealed shut with duct tape, my eyes wide with fear. I could only writhe on the ground, helpless like an insect, letting out muffled cries in a desperate attempt to get through to them. They didn’t know. They couldn’t know. I couldn’t die yet—because I was carrying Tyler’s baby. Finally, their argument ceased, but they both turned toward me with matching looks of hatred. My heart raced as I squirmed faster, trying to crawl away. Tyler grabbed me by the hair and dragged me to the edge of the bridge. My torso dangled over the guardrail, and I froze, paralyzed with terror. Behind me, Brandon took a deep drag of his cigarette, his voice trembling with tears. “Hannah, they still haven’t found Aria’s body. She’s probably lying cold and alone at the bottom of that river. God, I just want to throw you down there to join her!” Tyler’s hand shook as he clung to my hair. His voice cracked into a sob as he shouted at me. “Hannah, I married you! Why couldn’t you just leave her alone? You knew how hard Aria’s life was, didn’t you?!” My head was yanked back, my throat choking on silent screams as tears streamed down my face. I didn’t do it! She called me to that bridge! I didn’t say anything to her! Why wouldn’t they believe me? Suddenly, Tyler released me with a look of utter disgust, shoving me to the ground. “Hannah,” he spat, “I won’t let you die so easily. From now on, every single day you live will be to atone for what you did to Aria.” I curled up on the ground, clutching my stomach. I won’t die. My baby won’t die. We’ll survive this. We have to.

That night, I washed the dirt and fear off my body, then crept into the bedroom, trembling. When Tyler saw me, his eyes narrowed in anger. “Why are you here, you murderer? If I sleep next to you, I’ll probably dream of Aria crying!” I froze, instinctively hiding the pregnancy test behind my back. Tyler smirked and pulled something out from under his pillow—a white dress. He threw it at me. “Unless you put this on, I don’t even want to think about letting you into this room.” I swallowed hard, my hands shaking as I unfolded the dress. Of course. It was Aria’s dress. Is this how the rest of my life is going to be? Living in humiliation under her shadow? I touched my stomach, tears brimming in my eyes as I forced a bitter smile. “Tyler, the dress is too tight. I don’t think it’s going to fit me.” His expression darkened. He grabbed the pillow next to him and hurled it at me. I closed my eyes, bracing for the impact, and when it hit, I finally shouted. “Tyler, I’m pregnant!” The room went silent. For a brief moment, I dared to hope. I opened my eyes, praying to see even a flicker of happiness on his face. Instead, he let out a twisted laugh. “Hannah, is this what you’re bragging to Aria about? That you’re carrying my child?” Then his laughter turned to sobs as he clutched his head in his hands. “I’m guilty too. I killed Aria just as much as you did. And now someone like you is having my baby?” His head snapped up, his face twisted in anguish. His voice turned pleading, though his eyes burned with rage. “Hannah, we can’t keep this baby! It’s already stained with blood!” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. I stepped back, trembling as he lunged toward me. Tyler grabbed me and dragged me to the edge of the bed, pinning me down. One hand gripped my jaw, forcing my mouth open, while the other rummaged through the nightstand. He pulled out a bottle of pills—birth control—and began shoving them into my mouth. Tears streamed down his face as he muttered under his breath, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. It’s just not the right time.” I struggled, shaking my head, trying to spit the pills out, but he wouldn’t let me. He didn’t stop until the pills were gone, then collapsed on the floor, his body shaking with sobs. I stumbled out of the room, my legs barely holding me up, and shakily dialed a number.

“Brandon, please,” I begged through my tears. “Take me to the hospital. My baby is in danger!” There was a pause, then laughter—cold, drunken laughter. “Hannah, you’re pregnant? And with Tyler’s kid? Do you think that’s fair to Aria, lying at the bottom of that river?” I froze, my heart sinking. I had forgotten—my brother wasn’t the man he used to be. The more he had loved Aria, the more he had come to hate me. I stumbled out into the road, cursing myself for never learning to drive. “You’ll never need to,” Tyler had once said with a smile. “I’ll be your driver for life, my little princess.” The house was far from the city, and it took me hours to catch a ride to the hospital. But just as I reached the nurse’s station, I felt a sharp warmth between my legs. My heart sank, and everything went black. When I woke up, I was lying in a hospital bed. Tyler sat beside me, his face weary and his eyes bloodshot. “My baby…” I whispered. Tyler’s voice was flat, empty. “Hannah, the baby… is gone. It’s gone to atone for us. For Aria.” He tried to sound calm, but his red eyes betrayed him. He had been crying. Was it for Aria? Or for the child we had lost? I pulled the blanket over my head and sobbed silently. I thought he’d be happy. Instead, he killed our baby with his own hands.

After that day, the three of us—Tyler, Brandon, and I—became nothing more than walking corpses, trapped in a cycle of guilt and blame. I could never understand why Aria chose death as her way of punishing us. Brandon had loved her to the point of madness. He even betrayed his own brother, Tyler, by getting him drunk and sending him to my bed. The day I lost my baby, Tyler and I stopped sharing a room. We both saw the other as a murderer, each of us stained with blood, an invisible wall of resentment keeping us apart. Every year, on Aria’s death anniversary, Brandon would lose his mind. He’d come to my house, tie me up, and vent his pain all over again. Tyler would stand in the corner, smoking, watching it all unfold with cold indifference. But on the fifth year, Tyler finally spoke. “Brandon,” he said quietly, exhaling smoke, “Aria was so kind… Do you think she’d want us to live like this?” Brandon froze, his hands gripping the rope, staring at me. My face was numb, as it had been for years. He yanked me close by the collar and growled, “I’m letting you go—not because I forgive you, but because I don’t want to go against Aria’s wishes.” How disgusting. I could barely muster a smile. Aria, kind? Was it kindness when she falsely accused me of breaking her mother’s keepsake, forcing Brandon to make me kneel at her mother’s grave until my forehead bled? Was it kindness when she cried and played the victim, making everyone believe I was bullying her? Ever since the my family adopted Aria, I—their biological daughter—had been treated like an outsider. But for the first time in five years, the three of us sat down at the same table for a meal. Tyler, his eyes red and swollen, raised his glass and muttered, “I’m sorry,” before downing the whole thing in one gulp. For a moment, it felt like a sliver of light had broken through the suffocating darkness. But then Brandon suddenly stood up, his face pale with shock as he stared at the doorway.

“Tyler, Brandon! I thought I’d never see you again!” There she was—Aria. After disappearing for five years, she stood at the door, soaked from the rain, trembling with her arms wrapped around herself. Brandon lost all composure, grabbing his coat and rushing to her side. Next to me, Tyler’s eyes were locked on her, his thoughts swirling so violently that he looked like he might explode. Aria. She was back. Was she even real? Brandon held her tightly as he led her into the house, his lips quivering with emotion. Aria glanced at the table, then at the three of us. “I’m so relieved to see you all doing so well,” she said softly, her voice as gentle as ever. But her words struck Brandon and Tyler like a thunderclap. Brandon flipped the table in a frenzy, shouting, “Aria, every day without you has been nothing but pain!” Aria gave him a faint smile, tears welling up in her eyes as she turned to look at Tyler. The dam holding back Tyler’s emotions broke, and tears streamed down his face. “Aria… you’re really back.” But when her eyes met mine, she shrank into Brandon’s arms, trembling. “Hannah, why did you push me off the bridge?” she cried. “I was hurt, lost my memory, wandered for years… I almost died!” I stood frozen. Push her? Tyler and Brandon’s eyes darkened with hatred as they turned toward me. Before I could say a word, Tyler’s hand lashed across my face. “I thought you were just vain,” he roared. “But you’re a monster!” Brandon tightened his grip on Aria, his expression ice-cold. “From now on, you’re no longer part of my family. I don’t have a sister anymore.” I looked at the three of them and laughed bitterly, my smile twisting into something feral. “Aria,” I said through gritted teeth, “I can’t believe you survived that fall. Why didn’t you just die for real?” Tyler slapped me again. Blood dripped from the corner of my mouth, but I wiped it away and slapped him back, my eyes blazing. “If I killed someone, I’ll turn myself in! But don’t you dare lay a hand on me. You’re no saint, Tyler—your hands are just as bloody as mine!” Tyler stumbled back, stunned by my defiance. Aria stepped forward, her voice soft and pleading. “Please, let’s just move on now that I’m back. Hannah, can’t we be sisters again?” Brandon kissed her forehead and whispered, “You’re amazing, Aria.” How ironic. I scoffed. “A murderer like me doesn’t deserve to be your sister. Why don’t we settle this once and for all? Tomorrow, at the bridge.” With that, I walked out the door. Aria followed me, grabbing my arm and crying. But her voice dropped to a venomous whisper. “No matter what you do, they’ll always believe me. Now that I’m back, you’re nothing. You’ll always be nothing.” I yanked my arm free and glared at her. “I’ve never wanted to fight you, Aria. And I never will.”

The next day, the three of them arrived together. Tyler was the first to speak. “Hannah, what kind of game are you trying to play now?” I ignored him, my voice steady as I asked, “Tyler, on our wedding night, when you said you had urgent business at work, were you really with Aria?” Tyler said nothing, but Aria sniffled and spoke up. “Hannah, don’t be mad. I was drunk that night… I wouldn’t let Tyler leave.” I let out a bitter laugh and turned to Brandon. “And you, big brother. The heir to the Shen family business, throwing it all away for a woman. You don’t even care that everyone knows you’re wearing the biggest ‘green hat’ in town. You really love her, huh?” Brandon’s face darkened. His actions over the years had already drawn the ire of the family. Tyler snapped. “Did you call us here just to stir up trouble?” I shook my head with a weary smile. “We grew up together. When have I ever won an argument? I’ve bowed my head so many times I should be a professional by now.” Seeing their hesitation, I smiled faintly, tears streaming down my face as I turned to Tyler. “Honey,” I said mockingly, “I’m going to join our baby now.” And with that, I climbed onto the railing and jumped. The wind roared past me, and their screams tore through the air. For the first time in years, I laughed. Finally, I was free.

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## I killed the classmate who tried to assault me. In the interrogation room, I covered my face and sobbed. Later, the court ruled me not guilty. As I walked out of the courthouse surrounded by officers, I made sure to keep the tears rolling down my cheeks. But the moment I reached a quiet corner, I wiped my eyes, let out a deep breath, and smiled—a smile of pure relief. “My name is Luna. I’m a senior at Westview High, in Class 6.” “And the deceased? He was your classmate?” I sat on the hospital bed, an IV tube attached to my arm, looking pale and weak. I took the water handed to me by the kind-looking officer in uniform and gave her a polite smile. The officer sitting next to me nodded reassuringly. “Don’t worry. Just take your time and try to recall every detail you can.”

If I had one skill I could count on, it’s my looks. Old men, teenage boys—it doesn’t matter. At the end of the day, they’re all visual creatures. Getting the attention of a teenage boy? Easy. A glance, a light touch, paired with a delicate, vulnerable expression—it’s all it takes to have them wrapped around your finger. For me, it’s second nature. I’ve always had a way of making people want to protect me. But I never thought this “gift” of mine would one day lead to something so dangerous. That day, I found a folded note in my desk. “Can I meet you after school by the equipment room? I have something I need to tell you.” I glanced at the signature and couldn’t help but let out a small laugh. Gavin. Gavin, the perfect student. Top grades, polite to everyone, but distant—except when it came to his little sister. He had that overprotective “big brother” thing going on, which made him a bit of a mystery to the rest of us. Who would’ve thought someone like him would fall for me? But at the end of the day, even the most perfect student is still just a teenage boy. I smiled to myself, curious about what he might say. “So, he’s the one who asked you to meet him in the equipment room?” The officer paused mid-note, looking up at me. I gave him a soft smile and nodded. “Yes, officer.” “Alright, go on.”

After school, I went to the equipment room right on time. It was Friday, and by the time the final bell rang, the campus was practically deserted. The sky was already darkening as I arrived. I pushed open the creaky door. The room was empty. I wasn’t in a rush, though. I figured Gavin was probably working up the courage to show up. For a shy boy, confessing your feelings isn’t easy. As I waited, I wandered around the room, tidying up the cluttered shelves of old sports trophies and broken vases. It gave me something to do while I waited. Suddenly, the door creaked open again, followed by a loud slam. I turned around, thinking it was just the wind. I started walking toward the door to open it back up. That’s when I felt it—a pair of arms wrapping around me from behind. I froze. His hot, heavy breath brushed against my neck. He was panting, whispering my name as his hands slid under my shirt, roughly grabbing at my bra. Disgusted and furious, I struggled and cursed at him, trying to break free. But he only held me tighter, his lips pressing against my neck as he mumbled some nonsense about how much he “loved” me. My mind raced. Why had I come here? Why hadn’t I just told him no? How could I have been so stupid to believe a teenage boy could control himself? He made my skin crawl. I shouted at him to stop, to let me go, but he wouldn’t listen. To him, my protests were just flirting, and it only seemed to excite him more. I felt something hard pressing against me. He started grinding against me, and I wanted to scream. Fear and rage boiled over inside me. I don’t know where the strength came from, but I managed to twist around and shove him backward with everything I had. The shelf behind him tipped over, and one of the heavy vases on top came crashing down. It hit him square on the head. The vase shattered, and shards sliced into my shoulder, but I didn’t care. His grip on me loosened. His hands slid down from my waist as he crumpled to the ground. I stumbled toward the door, clutching my bleeding shoulder, and pulled it open. The light from the hallway flooded in. That’s when I saw him lying there, motionless. Blood pooled around his head. He was dead. “That’s everything that happened,” I said softly, brushing my hand over the bandage on my shoulder. Tears welled up in my eyes as I added, “If I’d known he was capable of something like this, I would’ve never agreed to meet him that day.” The room fell silent. The officers exchanged quiet glances, as if passing some unspoken message between them. The lead officer stood and gave me a slight bow. “Thank you for your time. We won’t keep you any longer.” I smiled faintly. “Take care, officers.” I watched them leave one by one until the room was empty again, the silence pressing in around me. My smile faded, and a shadow passed over my eyes.

I don’t know when I fell asleep, but when I woke up, a nurse was standing by my bed, changing the IV bag. “This is your last one,” she said brightly. “Once it’s done, you’re free to go home!” She smiled warmly, ruffling my messy hair. “You’re such a strong girl. Make sure to take care of yourself, okay?” I kept my gaze low, my voice soft as I blinked up at her. “Thank you. I’ll try my best.” People always want to take care of me. It doesn’t matter who they are—I’ve always known how to make them want to protect me. Sure enough, the nurse gave me a sad smile and pinched my cheek before stuffing a handful of candy into my hands. After she left, I let my composed expression melt into a grin. I’m an orphan. I’ve been on my own since the day I was born. A few years ago, I had family, but they’re gone now too. It’s just me. No one’s going to come help me with the discharge papers, and I didn’t expect them to. I followed the nurse through the process myself. Thankfully, she took care of most of the work for me. Before I left, she hugged me tightly, tears in her eyes as she whispered, “Promise me you’ll live a good life.” I put on my best performance, crying into her shoulder. But the moment I turned away, I wiped my tears and smoothed my hair. It’s all just a show, after all.

Even though the school suggested I take a couple of days off to recover, I went back the very next day. I’ve always been popular—the kind of person who seems to attract a crowd wherever I go. As soon as I stepped through the classroom door, my so-called friends surrounded me, bombarding me with questions and chatter. “Did you really kill him?” “Seriously? You actually went through with it? Damn, you’re cold.” Their words irritated me, but I kept my cool, plastering a polite smile on my face to deal with their fake concern and nosy curiosity. “Watch your mouth,” a girl standing nearby snapped at one of the boys, clearly annoyed. The boy immediately shut up, grinning sheepishly as he tried to smooth things over. “Yeah, my bad! Don’t be mad, okay, Luna?” I shook my head with a show of forced strength, my voice soft and steady. “It’s fine. I’m okay.” That was all they needed to launch into a chorus of comforting words. “That guy deserved it anyway. I never liked him. Imagine pulling that on you—what a creep…” The girl clicked her tongue again, and the boy finally stopped talking altogether. The energy around me was lively, noisy, and suffocating. But across the room, it was dead silent where Mila sat. Through the gaps in the crowd, I could see her huddled in the corner, clutching her pencil so tightly her fingers trembled. Her wide, anxious eyes flicked toward our group, only to meet mine. The moment our gazes locked, she froze. Then, as if burned, she dropped her head and frantically pretended to scribble something in her notebook. Mila. The classic loner girl. She never talked to anyone. No friends, no social life. The only person she’d ever been close to was her brother, Gavin. They did everything together—always glued to each other’s side. It was pathetic. She was pathetic. And I already knew exactly how the next chapter of her life was going to play out.

Our class had a reputation. It wasn’t just bad—it was rotten to the core. Every single person here had their own little piece of darkness, like termites gnawing away at the foundations. The corruption ran deep. In our class, the students had created their own hierarchy. There were three groups. The first group, led by Gavin before his death, was made up of the “good kids.” Straight-A students, well-behaved, the ones teachers loved. They were mostly left alone, since messing with them risked drawing the school’s attention. The second group? That was mine. The troublemakers. The ones who ruled the social scene with cliques and alliances. And the third group? They were the bottom of the barrel—the outcasts. Mediocre grades, no social skills, easy targets. They were nothing more than fodder for the rest of us. Sure enough, it didn’t take long for the hyenas to set their sights on Mila. When Gavin was alive, they’d stayed away from her out of respect for him. But now that he was gone, Mila was nothing more than a defenseless lamb surrounded by wolves. It started small. During breaks, someone would steal her chair while she was in the restroom. She’d come back, confused and embarrassed, forced to stand for the rest of class. Or they’d leave empty soda cans and crumpled tissues on her desk, treating her like a trash can. “Oh, wait—this is your seat? My bad, I thought it was the recycling bin,” one of the boys sneered, earning exaggerated laughter from the others. The teacher? She saw everything. Of course she did. Mila standing awkwardly in the middle of the room, her desk covered in garbage—it was impossible to miss. But she just glanced over, said nothing, and went back to teaching. I told you, in this class, everyone’s rotten. Not just the students. Their cruelty wasn’t just about Gavin being gone. Mila’s family situation was just as bad as mine—parents gone, only a brother left to look out for her. And now, even he was dead. With no one to protect her, the vultures circled without fear. I rested my chin on my hand, watching Mila squirm under the spotlight of the class’s mockery. What a shame. She wasn’t like me. She didn’t know how to hide.

I’ve always had a talent for making people care about me. Love me, even. Any kind of person. I know how to look helpless, how to tug at people’s heartstrings, how to make them want to protect me. At the same time, I know how to project strength—designer clothes, a polished image, the appearance of someone from a wealthy and untouchable family. A naive rich girl with a heart of gold. Who would dare mess with someone like that? But Mila didn’t have that ability. Her fear, her hatred, her vulnerability—it was all written all over her face. Every flinch, every tremble just made her tormentors more excited, like sharks smelling blood in the water. Just like now. A wad of paper hit Mila square on the head and bounced to the floor. Laughter rippled through the room as Mila sat there, her head bowed, her ears burning red. Another paper ball. Then another. It wasn’t until the teacher finally snapped and yelled at the class to stop that the bombardment ended—not because of Mila, but because it was disrupting the lesson. Mila’s eyes were glassy with unshed tears, her lips trembling. Pathetic. After school, my usual entourage swarmed around me, loudly declaring how they’d protect me while peppering me with questions. Their chatter annoyed me, but I just smiled and let it wash over me. As soon as I stepped out of the school gates, though, a man blocked my path. I looked up, immediately recognizing the face. “Hello, officer,” I said calmly. He blinked, clearly surprised by my composure, before nodding slightly. “We have a few more questions for you. Would you be able to come with us?” I glanced at the group of friends behind me. The same people who’d been shouting about “protecting” me just moments ago were now shrinking back, avoiding my gaze. Typical. I turned back to the officer and nodded. “Sure. Let’s go.” At the station, they sat me down in a chair. One of the officers handed me a bottle of water. I held it for a moment, feeling the coolness through the plastic, before handing it back. “Could I get one that’s warmed up, please? Thank you.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “295318”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster #现实主义Realistic #浪漫Romance #励志Inspiring #惊悚Thriller #魔幻Magic #校园School #狼人Werewolf #擦边Steamy #重生Reborn

## After three years of taking care of a man with amnesia, he finally recovered. The first thing he did? Get engaged to his first love. I showed up with a box full of cash—the payment for cutting all ties between us. He smirked, casually pulling a stack of bills from the box and handing it to me. With a raised eyebrow, he said: “Takes money to seduce someone, doesn’t it?” 0I stared at the diagnosis in my hand for what felt like an eternity. I used to want to die. I tried everything—slitting my wrists, jumping off buildings, even hanging myself—but somehow, I always survived. Now, just when I’ve finally found a reason to live, life decides to play a cruel joke on me. As I walked out of the hospital, my mind spiraled. If I die, what will happen to Connor? Connor is the man I found three years ago. He didn’t know who he was, so I gave him a name—Connor. He’s… special. A child in a man’s body. If I’m gone, who will take care of him? With that heavy thought weighing me down, I returned home. The front door was wide open. My stomach sank. Inside stood a man in a tailored suit, smiling like someone who didn’t want to be there but had a job to do. “Miss Moore,” he said, his voice smooth but cold. “We need to talk about Connor.” “Connor—” I began, but he cut me off. He opened a briefcase sitting on the table. Stacks of cash. “What’s this supposed to mean?” I asked, my throat tightening. “This,” he said with a polite smile, “is a token of gratitude for taking care of our Young Master all this time.” “And,” he added, his voice dropping slightly, “we trust you won’t speak to anyone about his… condition.” He was still smiling, but the threat in his eyes was unmistakable. I swallowed hard. “I don’t want your money.” “No?” He chuckled, his gaze sweeping over me like I was a beggar who didn’t know her place. “Not enough for you? Or…” He raised an eyebrow. “Are you hoping to latch onto the Grant family?” I froze, stunned, and before I could respond, he pulled out a business card and handed it to me. “If you change your mind,” he said, his tone clipped, “call the number on this card. But as for everything else…” His smile faded. “Keep it to yourself.” The diagnosis paper in my hand crumpled as I clenched my fist. Any hope I had of fighting this—of living—was crushed under the weight of that briefcase. 0

Curiosity got the better of me. I looked up the Grant family online. The first image that popped up was Connor—or, as I now learned, Austin Grant, heir to the Grant fortune. His world and mine couldn’t have been more different. The money in that briefcase? I couldn’t earn that much in a lifetime. After some thought, I called the number on the card. “Miss Moore,” the man answered, his voice calm and smug. “You’ve made up your mind so soon?” “I don’t want the money,” I said quietly. “Not enough, is it?” he said, almost amused. “Makes sense. Cancer treatments these days cost millions. A single injection can run up to $200,000.” “How much do you need?” My hand trembled as I gripped the phone. “I’m not planning to treat it.” The line went silent for a moment before he finally spoke. “Miss Moore, the Grant family isn’t the kind of place you can just walk into.” “Yes, you cared for the Young Master for three years, but that doesn’t mean you have a place here. Especially since…” He paused, as if savoring the blow he was about to deliver. “The Young Master is already engaged to someone else.” It felt like a rope had tightened around my chest, squeezing the air out of me. My voice shook as I replied, “I don’t want to be part of the Grant family.” “And I won’t tell anyone about Austin’s condition.” “I just…” My voice broke. “I don’t want your money.” Because taking their money would cheapen everything. It would make those three years—every moment I spent with Connor—feel like a transaction. The man sighed. “Miss Moore, this money is your compensation. I’m just doing my job. Don’t make this harder than it needs to be.” Before I could respond, he hung up. The dim light in the living room cast long shadows. Near the door sat a bag of empty bottles—Connor’s latest collection. I hadn’t seen him since yesterday. I’d searched everywhere but couldn’t find him. Exhausted and terrified, I had collapsed on the couch, crying my heart out. Then, late that night, Connor came home, covered in dirt and carrying a sack over his shoulder. When he saw me crying, he panicked. “Don’t cry, Harper!” he said, his black eye from a fight making him look even more ridiculous. He grinned and held up the sack. “Look! I found so many bottles today!” “A few old guys tried to take them from me, but I was too fast!” he added proudly. “Don’t worry, Harper. I can take care of you. You don’t need that man, okay?” I couldn’t decide whether to laugh or cry as I pulled him into a hug. “If you ever run off like that again,” I said, trying to sound stern, “I’m not keeping you anymore.” His eyes turned red as he clung to my sleeve. “I’ll collect so many bottles. Don’t leave me, okay? Please don’t leave me.” But in the end, it wasn’t me who left. It was him. And this time, it wasn’t me who gave up on him. It was him who gave up on me. 0

When there’s no reason to live, there’s no reason to seek treatment either. I decided to check myself out of the hospital. As I was leaving the house, I accidentally knocked over the small clay figurine sitting on the cabinet. I glanced at it for a moment, then shut the door behind me. At the hospital, the discharge process went smoothly—until I noticed Connor’s name on the inpatient list. I grabbed the nurse’s arm, my voice trembling. “Austin… is he the Young Master of the Grant family?” She yanked her arm away, scoffing. “And what if he is?” she sneered, giving me a once-over. “Someone like you thinks they can climb their way into the Grant family?” Her gaze burned into me, and I couldn’t bear to look her in the eye. Humiliated, I turned and ran out of the hospital. But later that day, I packed up the briefcase of money and headed back. This time, I couldn’t bring myself to ask the nurses where Connor’s room was—I didn’t want to see the judgment in their eyes. So I wandered through the hospital, floor by floor, peeking through room windows, hoping I’d find him. “Harper?” A familiar voice called out, and I froze. Hugging the briefcase closer to my chest, I turned around. It was Dr. James. “Dr. James…” He smiled kindly. “Here to pay for treatment?” I shook my head. He frowned, confused. “You know, with treatment, there’s a good chance your condition could be cured.” There might be a chance for a cure, but there’s no cure for the emptiness in my heart. “If you have the money, why not save yourself?” he pressed. I forced a bitter smile. “This money… it’s not mine.” He hesitated. “Then what are you planning to do with it?” I cut him off before he could finish. “Dr. James, do you know which room Austin is in?” He studied me for a moment, then sighed. “Fourth floor, second door on the left.” Patting my shoulder, he added, “If you need help, you know where to find me.” I nodded and made my way up to the fourth floor. Standing outside the room, I hesitated for what felt like an eternity before finally knocking. The door opened to reveal a man with a commanding presence, someone I recognized instantly from my online search. It was Austin’s older brother—Elliot Grant, the current head of the Grant family. He didn’t seem surprised to see me. With a slight nod, he motioned for me to come in. As soon as I stepped inside, my eyes were drawn to the hospital bed. Connor—no, Austin—was lying there, looking completely at ease. Beside him sat a poised, elegant woman in designer clothes. She cut a slice of apple and held it up to his lips, and he took it with a soft look in his eyes. I stood frozen, gripping the briefcase so tightly my knuckles turned white. Then, slowly, I let go. What was the point? 0

It wasn’t until Austin had eaten a few more slices of apple that he finally noticed me. Wiping his mouth with a tissue, he asked coldly, “Why are you here?” His gaze was sharp, indifferent, and it made me take two steps back instinctively. This wasn’t the Connor I knew—the one who used to follow me around like a lost puppy, calling me Harper. This was Austin Grant, heir to the Grant family empire. I took a deep breath, steadied myself, and opened the briefcase. “The money,” I said quietly, “I didn’t spend a single cent. I’m here to return it.” Austin’s sharp eyes narrowed slightly, his lips curving into a faint, mocking smile. “Then what do you want?” he asked, his voice laced with sarcasm. “Are you here to claim the title of Mrs. Grant?” I froze, stunned by his words. “I—what?” I stammered, unable to believe what he’d just said. He leaned back against the bed, his smile cold and distant. “You think you’re worthy?” The room fell silent. Everyone’s eyes were on me, and I felt like I couldn’t breathe. Setting the briefcase down on the floor, I turned and fled the room. I made it to the stairwell, gripping the railing as I gasped for air. Tears blurred my vision, spilling down my cheeks before I could stop them. “Crying?” The voice behind me was familiar, and it sent a chill down my spine. I wiped my eyes quickly and muttered, “No.” Austin stepped closer, his sharp gaze sweeping over me. His lips curled into a smirk as he pulled a stack of cash from his pocket and shoved it into my hands. “Eat something,” he said with a mocking tilt of his head. “Your figure’s disappearing. It takes resources to seduce someone, you know.” I stood there, frozen, as his words pierced through me like knives. He turned and walked away, leaving me standing alone in the stairwell, clutching the money in my trembling hands. It wasn’t until his silhouette disappeared that I snapped out of it. “Connor…” I whispered his name like a plea, but he was gone. I stumbled out of the hospital, tears streaming down my face, not knowing where to go. I pulled out the stack of cash he had given me and stared at it for a long time. In this city, it felt like I was the only one left. 04 When I got home, the first thing I saw was a pile of broken pieces scattered across the floor. Among them were dozens of paper stars. I picked one up and carefully unfolded it. Inside, in messy handwriting, it read: “Harper, always stay happy!” It was part of a birthday gift from Connor. After my parents passed away, I stopped celebrating birthdays. Life had lost its meaning, and so had those special days. I found Connor three years ago. He was lying in an alley, bleeding and barely conscious. Out of pity, I brought him home. When he woke up, I realized he wasn’t… normal. But he was sweet. He’d smile at me like a child and call me “Harper” in the softest, most affectionate voice. Sometimes, he’d wrap his arms around me and whine for attention like I was the only safe thing in his world. In a city that felt cold and foreign, Connor became my anchor. He gave me a reason to keep going. There were days I thought about finding his family and sending him home. One time, I even took him to the police station to report him as missing. He was so calm and obedient the entire way—until I turned to leave. That’s when he grabbed my sleeve, his eyes turning red as he whispered: “Harper… you’re not going to leave me, are you?” I gently pried his hand away and forced a smile. “I’m just going to buy you some candy, okay? Be a good boy and wait for me.” He sat down on a chair, looking like a lost puppy, his wide eyes following me as I walked away. I thought that was the end of us. But three days later, on my way home from work, I saw him digging through a trash can. “Connor?” I called out, shocked. He froze, then slowly turned around. His face was streaked with dirt, and when he saw me, tears welled up in his eyes. “Connor, what are you doing here?” His voice trembled as he reached out toward me, his hand hovering in the air like he wasn’t sure if I’d let him touch me. “Harper… I’ll be good,” he said, his voice breaking. “Please… don’t leave me again.” It turned out he’d run away from the police station that same night. He thought I didn’t want him anymore. I was furious, but I couldn’t stay mad. I pulled him into a hug, my heart aching as he clung to me like a lifeline. That winter night was freezing, but we stayed wrapped in each other’s arms, two kids without a home, trying to keep warm. Back then, I thought we’d always be together. 0

The following summer, I celebrated Connor’s birthday for the first time. By the end of the day, his face was covered in frosting, but he just sat there grinning at me like a little kid. “Harper,” he asked suddenly, “when’s your birthday?” “December 22,” I told him casually, not thinking much of it. I didn’t expect him to remember. But when that day came, he showed up with a small, clumsy clay figurine cradled carefully in his hands. “Harper, happy birthday!” he said, beaming. The figurine was… well, ugly. Its belly had been scratched with the words: “Connor only loves Harper.” “Only loves?” I teased, laughing. “Do you even know what that means?” Connor puffed out his chest proudly. “Of course I do! It means I only love one person.” “I only love Harper!” Now, that little clay figurine—marked with “Connor only loves Harper”—lay shattered on the floor. There was no piecing it back together. Back then, I thought the figurine was the entire gift, so I tucked it away without a second thought. I didn’t realize there was something hidden inside. No wonder he pouted for days whenever I ignored it. Curious, I unfolded another paper star from the pile. This one read: “We’ll always be together.” At the bottom, there was a crude drawing of two stick figures holding hands. The effort he’d put into it was obvious, even through the childish scribbles. I stared at it for a long time, my fingers brushing over the tiny hearts he’d drawn around the edges. A tear slipped down my cheek, smudging the ink. “You little liar,” I whispered. 0

When all is said and done, I just want to go home. I sold my apartment, and the money was just enough to buy a burial plot. I’ll be laid to rest next to my parents. I also sold the bag of bottles Connor had collected. It brought in a grand total of sixteen dollars and fifty cents. “With this little money, how were you ever planning to take care of me?” I muttered to myself, half-laughing, half-crying. The paperwork was done. In two days, I’d leave this city full of painful memories. But the day before I was supposed to leave, an unexpected guest showed up. “Elliot?” He looked slightly surprised. “You know who I am? I’m honored.” “What do you want?” I asked, wary. Elliot’s face held that same polite, unreadable smile. “Miss Moore, I’d like to invite you to be my date for an event.” “Your date?” I stared at him, baffled. Rich people’s logic never made sense to me. He was handsome, wealthy, and powerful. Women would throw themselves at him with just a snap of his fingers. Why on earth would he ask someone like me—average in every way, with no fortune or connections? I was about to decline when he added, “My brother Austin will be there, too.” I hesitated. Even if I couldn’t say goodbye to Connor, maybe I could see him one last time from a distance. I didn’t know Elliot’s motives, but I still agreed. What could someone like me—a woman with no family and a terminal illness—possibly have to lose? Elliot provided a gown for the event. I stood in front of the mirror, nervously smoothing the fabric. When he saw me, a flicker of admiration crossed his face, though it was quickly masked with his usual composure. He draped a delicate necklace around my neck and chuckled. “Austin wasn’t just dumb. He was blind, too.” I pressed my lips together, choosing not to respond. When we arrived, I realized this wasn’t just any event. It was Austin’s engagement party. He stood in the center of the room, effortlessly elegant, exuding an air of cold detachment. He looked like something out of a winter dream—strong, poised, and untouchable, like bamboo standing tall in the snow. Next to him was his fiancée, wearing a dazzling white gown that sparkled like she’d wrapped herself in starlight. She was radiant, the kind of beautiful that made everyone else fade into the background. The emcee smiled warmly at her and asked, “Miss Sinclair, do you have anything you’d like to say?” She held Austin’s arm and spoke with a voice as soft as velvet. “I’m so grateful. Grateful that I could bring him back to who he truly is. And even more grateful that I’ve always been the one by his side.” Her words stung, but I forced myself to stay calm. I reached for my wrist, absentmindedly tugging at the bracelet Connor had made for me. It was a simple thing—braided string with a strand of his hair tied into it. But now, Austin’s hand wore nothing but a gleaming silver ring, impossibly bright under the chandelier lights. I let out a quiet sigh. I guess I’m grateful too. Grateful that during the darkest years of my life, I had Connor by my side. He was like a fleeting dream, comforting me when I needed it most before fading away. I just wish that dream had lasted a little longer. I wanted to leave, but Elliot stopped me. “Aren’t you going to congratulate him?” he asked with a smirk. Reluctantly, I followed him to where Austin and his fiancée were standing. Austin glanced at me, his expression unreadable, before his lips curled into a mocking smile. “So, this is your type now, big brother? Used goods?” The words hit like a punch to the gut, sharp and cruel. My chest tightened, and I struggled to breathe. Next to him, Miss Sinclair laughed softly, resting her hand on his arm. “Don’t be so mean,” she teased. “After all, she did take care of you for three years.” Austin’s expression didn’t change. He let out a dismissive “Oh,” then reached for a pen and asked someone nearby for a checkbook. He scribbled something down, tore out the check, and handed it to me. “Write whatever amount you want,” he said, his tone cold and detached.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “295317”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster #现实主义Realistic #浪漫Romance #励志Inspiring #惊悚Thriller #魔幻Magic #校园School #狼人Werewolf #擦边Steamy #重生Reborn

I admit I was wrong. I am a modern woman, but I got tangled up with a strange system that made me earn money by pleasing men. I was simultaneously pleasing three men, and within less than six months, I made enough money to buy a villa. While I was busy making money, these three men suddenly showed up and cornered me against the wall. With grim expressions, they asked, “Tell us, who do you really like? You can only choose one.” I messaged the person saved as [6’2 Sagittarius Star, Acton Lyons] and said: [I miss you.] A few seconds later, Acton replied: [Stop missing me. I’m taking three girls out tomorrow. It’s going to be fun.] I quickly responded, still cheerful: [Taking girls out, huh? Be sure to drive safely.] Acton sent a string of ellipses. I elegantly took a sip of coffee, then messaged the second person on my list, saved as [6’1″ Capricorn CEO, Theodore Blakely,] with a simple [Good morning.] Then I started watching a drama. By the time I finished an entire season, he still hadn’t replied. But this didn’t surprise me. Calmly, I sent a follow-up message: [I checked, Capricorns really don’t like replying to messages. I understand.] Finally, he replied: [If you’re so free, why don’t you get a job?] I smoothly answered: [Mr. Blakely, do you need a secretary? I’m not only great at work, but I’m also quite good in bed.] Theodore sent another string of ellipses. He didn’t respond, which was fine. I turned my attention to the third person on my list, saved as [6’3″ Pisces Campus Heartthrob, Conley Morrison.] [Baby, happy birthday!] I messaged, then sent 500 dollars to him. After a moment’s thought, I added: [You have to accept this.] Soon, the transfer was received. Conley replied: [Thanks, Ms. Ellsworth, you’re so sweet.] I thought to myself, “What a sweet young man!” I asked kindly: [So, how are you celebrating your birthday?] Conley: [With the campus queen.] I smiled and transferred another 500 dollars. [This is for the campus queen’s hard work. I want to thank her for keeping you company on my behalf.] Conley probably didn’t expect me to be this generous. After a brief pause, he accepted the transfer and sent me a cute cat emoji. [Ms. Ellsworth, you’re truly amazing.] Having taken care of these, I put my phone down, let the maid give me a massage, and smiled at the fluttering words in the air. [System is settling your account…] [Three basic flattery behaviors completed, total earnings: 3,000 dollars, reimbursement for transfer: 1,000 dollars, total earnings: 4,040 dollars. Funds have been deposited.] Looking at my increasing balance, I stretched lazily. My best friend’s birthday was coming up, and I wanted to buy her a house. I thought, “Maybe I should throw in a sports car for her too. Well, it looks like I’ll need to work harder these next few days.” With that in mind, I dialed Acton’s number. “Acton, which hotel are you taking the three girls to tomorrow? I’ll come by with some condoms.” Acton was clearly stunned at my words.

As you can see, when it came to pleasing others, I was a professional. It was not something I wanted to do myself, but the system paid way too well. The next day, I sneaked over to Serenwood Mansion carrying a bag of contraceptives. The security guard quickly stopped me. “What are you here for?” I showed him the contents of my bag and said seriously, “I’m a delivery runner. We specialize in professional condom delivery services for clients in need.” The guard was stunned, but his professionalism kicked in, and he accepted it. “Go on.” When I found Acton, he was swimming in the outdoor pool. Three bikini-clad beauties of different nationalities cheered for him from the shore. When he saw me, Acton slowly walked ashore, flicking his head so that droplets of water rolled off his abs. I took a step back, making sure not to get my Chanel dress wet. Acton noticed my movement, raised an eyebrow, and teased, “Playing hard to get? Beatrice, your pursuit skills have improved.” I inwardly rolled my eyes and thought, “You’re thinking too much.” I lowered my head shyly, my cheeks tinged pink. I stamped my foot, pouted, and said, “Stop teasing me…Why do you always have to expose me like that? I’m about to cry…” Acton smiled smugly and noticed the bag in my hand. “You really bought them?” “I got eight boxes,” I said obediently, “If that’s not enough, let me know.” Acton let out a light laugh and gestured for me to sit down. “Sit.” I thought to myself, “Sit? I don’t have time to sit with you. I’ve got to go please the next guy and make more money.” I tactfully waved my hand. “I won’t bother you. There are too many people here, and I’m sure you’ll find me annoying. I’ll just leave…” Acton seemed about to say something, but then the three beauties gracefully surrounded him, blocking his view of me. I seized the opportunity to slip away. But as soon as I sat in the car, my phone buzzed with a message from Acton. [I accidentally ordered too much for lunch. Want to stay and eat?] I froze. I thought, “What is this? I’ve only been pleasing him for half a year. He’s not actually starting to develop feelings for me, right?” When I picked him, I had specifically checked his profile. Acton was known for being flirtatious but having a specific type. He only liked perfectly shaped, sexy women. He had countless girlfriends, but none of them lasted long. Seeing that his difficulty rating was five stars, I hadn’t hesitated to choose him as my prey. He was one of my cash cows, and I couldn’t let him fall for me! I was too scared to reply to his message. I focused on driving and stopped at a red light. My phone kept buzzing with messages. Acton: [Why aren’t you replying?] Acton: [Did you cry?] He sent a resigned emoji, then added: [I told you I was taking three girls out. You shouldn’t insist on showing up. Now you’re upset. Silly girl, what should I do to you?] Acton: [Alright, alright, I’ll send you 30 thousand dollars. Go buy a bag.] Two minutes later, another message came through. Acton: [Why are you still not replying?] Acton: [Did I make you cry with my kindness?] I felt a wave of helplessness. I nervously asked the system, “What happens if the target starts pursuing me instead?” The system’s voice was cold and detached. “Your salary will be reduced according to the extent.” I cursed inwardly. I decisively grabbed my phone and recorded a voice message full of venom. “You think 30 thousand dollars is enough to move me? Dream on! I spend more than that on manicures! Keep it for your retirement fund! I’ve been sick of you for a while, you useless playboy!” After sending it, I felt relieved. I hoped this voice message would crush any budding feelings he might have and help him return to being the difficult-to-please playboy he was before. The phone remained silent for a long time. Just as I was about to breathe a sigh of relief, the message alert went off. Then I saw Acton’s firm reply. [Your jealous side is pretty cute.]

The system coldly notified me: [Detected flattery behavior. Deducting 2,000 dollars.] This was insane. I immediately blocked and deleted Acton, just in case he said anything else that would cost me more money. Things were going so wrong. I called Conley. I remembered he didn’t have classes today. The phone rang for quite a while before he picked up, his voice still drowsy. “Ms. Ellsworth?” I mimicked the tone of an aristocratic lady and said, “Hey, I miss you. Little darling, how about I take you on a private jet, and we go somewhere fun?” A few seconds later, Conley replied with a smile in his voice, “Sounds good, I’ll get ready.” “Then it’s a deal. I’ll pick you up now.” I hung up the phone and floored the accelerator, heading straight to my second cash cow. I was determined to earn back what I had lost from one man through another. Conley seemed to have made an effort to dress up today. He wore a crisp white hoodie, his hair neatly styled, looking youthful and fresh. I helped him fasten his seatbelt and squinted playfully. “You look handsome today. I like it.” Conley smiled innocently, “That’s great. I hope she likes it too.” I raised an eyebrow. Just as I was about to ask who this “she” was, a girl jumped into the car. She wore the same white hoodie as Conley, with an ultra-short skirt and perfect makeup. I recognized her immediately. She was Sandra Powell, the campus queen at Conley’s school. Sandra flashed a sweet smile. “Thanks, Ms. Ellsworth, for taking us out!” I turned to Conley, who calmly smiled, “Ms. Ellsworth, I’m sure you don’t mind taking a lovely girl along, right?” I didn’t mind at all. As long as the jet could fit, I wouldn’t mind if he brought eight girls. I loved guys who were already taken. To me, guys like that were cash cows. I was thrilled, and with all sincerity, I told Conley, “I just want you to be happy. Your happiness is my greatest wealth.” And that was the truth. Conley gave me a long look, a faint smile tugging at his lips, but he didn’t say anything. We three boarded the private jet and flew to my island resort. From the moment Sandra arrived on the island, she was in awe of everything, gasping and marveling at every little thing. I quickly switched to money-making mode. “Conley, what kind of crepes do you want? I’ll make them for you.” “Vanilla, please. Thanks, Ms. Ellsworth.” Conley glanced at Sandra. Before he could say anything, I already knew what he wanted. “What does your girlfriend like?” I asked sweetly. “I’ll make her an even bigger one.” I knew this was a top-notch, pleasing technique. I pleased the girl he liked, too, knowing this was the best way to get on his good side. Conley hesitated, then said, “She doesn’t… never mind.” He trailed off and turned to ask Sandra, who was busy taking selfies, what kind of crepes she wanted. I was a pro at making crepes and had them ready in under five minutes, handing them to Sandra and Conley with a smile. I was this quick because I had made them for other men before. Just like they said, practice makes perfect. After we finished the crepes, I took them out on the yacht. Along the way, I fussed over Sandra. I worried she might be hot, cold, hungry, or even full from eating too much. When she got seasick, I gave her medicine. When she was snapping pictures, I showered her with compliments. I was so attentive, and Conley hardly had a chance to make any move. Finally, when Sandra had too much champagne and collapsed, Conley rushed to catch her before I could, carefully holding her in his arms, his eyes full of concern. As the sun set, they sat close, basking in the warm orange light, looking picture-perfect together. I gracefully walked to the cabin, “I suddenly need to use the restroom. You two carry on.” I jumped into the bed and checked my account. The balance was climbing rapidly, and I couldn’t help but cheer. Then, I turned on some jazz and started dancing. Just as I was swaying to the rhythm, I suddenly noticed Conley standing in the doorway. “Conley?” I froze and quickly stopped my dance. “Aren’t you with Sandra…?” Conley’s eyes were dim with a mix of sadness and something else…resentment, maybe. “You really want us to be together?” I froze. An ominous premonition washed over me, and I cautiously asked, “Aren’t you already together?” Conley squinted at me, his gaze darkening. “No. She’s just someone I hired to act. I wanted to make you jealous.” Oh my God. I was never one for jealousy. I thought to myself, “Is today the end of the world? Why is everyone changing?” I felt like I was about to crack. “Why would you suddenly do this?” Conley tugged at his collar, his clavicle flushed from the alcohol. He looked down and slowly spoke, “It wasn’t sudden. It’s been bothering me for a while. At first, I was with you just for your money, but you’ve gone too far. You love me too much. Even my mom wants something in return, but you don’t ask for anything.” I collapsed on the round bed. He crouched down beside me like a lost puppy, looking up with tearful eyes. “Everyone says love is about possession. But you’ve never gotten jealous of me. I want to know… do you love me so much, or not at all?” His last words hit me like a ton of bricks. His gaze seemed to pierce through my eyes and probe deep into my soul. I instinctively held my breath, mentally whispering, “Stay calm, Beatrice. You can handle this.” In that tense moment, I had an idea. I steadied myself and calmly said, “I did love you.” Conley froze. I wiped my face, forcing a sad expression. “I’ll be honest with you. I did love you. But suddenly, I don’t feel the same anymore. Sometimes, a woman’s heart changes like that. Just like the song says, love is something that can fade so easily…” I didn’t feel guilty at all. After all, many guys went through breakups like this, sudden and unexpected. Self-esteem is fragile, especially men’s. Even more so for young men. I thought after hearing my words, he’d immediately hate me and consider me the person he’d despise the most. And then, I’d be free to continue pleasing him again. Just as I was reveling in my victory, Conley suddenly shoved me down onto the bed. My hands were tied with a strap and pulled up above my head. Conley leaned over, pulling out a peeler and twirling it in his fingers. His gaze was something I had never seen before. He looked wild, almost insane. “Ms. Ellsworth, you can’t do this. “You’ve loved me for so long. You can’t just stop loving me. Will you fall for me again? “If I lose your love, I think I’ll go crazy. If you’ve stopped loving me, let’s die together, okay?” His breath was hot against my neck, sending shivers down my spine. I thought, “Crap. This guy looks so innocent, but he’s actually a psychopath!” The system pinged again: [Detected intense flattery behavior. Deducting 3,000 dollars.] Conley traced the back of the blade across my skin, his eyes darkening, his voice hoarse. “Ms. Ellsworth, didn’t you say you’d do anything to make me happy? If you fall for me again, I’ll be happy.” He grabbed my chin, coaxing me in a low voice, “Come on, Ms. Ellsworth. Tell me you love me.” [Deducting 4,000 dollars.] Hearing System’s notification, I snapped, “Screw you.” Conley shuddered, his voice trembling with excitement. “Ms. Ellsworth, say it again. It feels so good.” I was utterly stunned. At that moment, I felt a sense of complete despair. I realized this guy was a freak. Just as I thought I might be doomed, Sandra barged in. She saw us in our compromising position, yelled, “Hey!” and shoved Conley to the floor, then crawled on top of me. Her face flushed, smelling of alcohol. She nuzzled her face into my chest and said, “Ms. Ellsworth, stop liking him. Please like me instead.” I was completely dumbfounded. Sandra smiled lovingly, “Only girls understand what other girls want. I won’t let you suffer. I only like you. How about it?” I hesitated, “Sounds great, but…” Conley, gritting his teeth, got up and leaned in, but Sandra smiled and punched him squarely in the face, sending him crashing back to the floor. “I know boxing,” Sandra said sweetly. “Ms. Ellsworth, you can continue.” I swallowed hard. “Well, I think I can accept that.” Sandra curled up and fell asleep in my arms. I fought to untie myself, then escaped the island under cover of night. Just as I took a deep breath, I got a new message. It was from Theodore. He said: [Come pick me up.]

I stared at the message, lost in thought. In the past, I would always make an effort to pick Theodore up after work since each time, he earned me 5,000 dollars. But after two misfortunes today, I decided to be cautious and just called him. I got straight to the point. “You’re not planning to give me money, are you?” Theodore answered with a question mark. I continued, “You are not planning to have some women around you to make me jealous, right?” There was a brief silence, then Theodore replied, “Beatrice, are you going nuts?” Seeing his usual indifferent words, I felt a wave of warmth and relief wash over me. I sighed, “Wait for me. I’ll be there soon.” Downstairs in the Blakely Group building, Theodore stood in the wind. He had just lit a cigarette, but when he saw me get out of the car, he quickly put it out. I spoke gently, “Let’s go, Teddy. Get in the car.” Theodore nodded toward a nearby Porsche. I thought to myself, “Ah, looks like Mr. Blakely is tired of my Maybach. Fine, a change of car is fine by me.” I hurried over, opened the driver’s side door, and said to the driver, “Sir, please get out. I’ll drive.” The driver looked confused. “Miss, what are you…?” Theodore sighed softly and walked over to open the rear door. “Get in.” “Ah?” I was a little stunned but did as told. Theodore slid into the car beside me, and the vehicle started moving smoothly. I asked, “Teddy, where are we going?” Theodore replied, “You’ll know when we get there.” A sense of unease crept into me. Thirty minutes later, the car pulled into a closed amusement park. I thought, “What is going on here? This feels like something out of a horror movie. It’s terrifying.” As I got out of the car, I heard Theodore snap his fingers. The lights of the entire park flickered on, and suddenly, the silent fairytale world seemed to come alive. I understood then. I smiled and said, “If you just wanted me to go to an amusement park with you, you could have said so.” Theodore took my wrist through my coat sleeve and led me inside, stopping in front of the carousel. Golden neon lights blinked, and dreamy music surrounded us. Some fragmented memories flashed through my mind, and for a moment, I lost focus. I sniffed, then pulled out my phone and gave his rear a playful tap. “Go ahead. I’ll take a picture for you.” Theodore was momentarily surprised by my playful action, but he quickly got over it and snatched my phone away. “You go. I’ll take the picture.” I was annoyed. “Why don’t you just take my money from my pocket?” I thought, “Does this guy even realize how much he’s costing me with these little moments?” Theodore looked clearly confused. We stared at each other for a couple of seconds, and then he smiled, “I like watching people on the carousel.” Hearing that, I understood. I thought, “So that’s why he brought me here. It’s his little quirk.” I patted his shoulder with understanding. “You should have said so earlier. I’ll indulge you.” I cheerfully ran over to my favorite horse. The music grew more romantic and beautiful, and the lights around us slowly danced, rising and falling. A gentle breeze brushed my face. I had always watched others ride the carousel before. This was my first time experiencing it for myself. I spent the next several hours enjoying rides with him, and when we got off the little forest train, my stomach growled. He suddenly asked, “What kind of crepes would you like?” I froze for a moment. No one had ever asked me that before. Normally, I was the one asking others. After a moment of thought, I replied, “Blueberry.” Theodore nodded and rolled up his sleeves as he walked toward a crepe stall. I stood there for a second, stunned. I thought he was just going to buy me one, but no, he was going to make it himself. He skillfully spread the batter, and the delicious aroma filled the air. He seemed… less cold than usual. Watching him focus on the crepe-making process under the lights, I suddenly felt my heart rate quicken. He brought the plate over to me, his expression still calm, but there was a hint of expectation. “Try it.” I took a bite and realized it tasted better than the ones I made. He asked, “How is it?” I was about to say, “It’s delicious,” when suddenly I heard an irritating voice in my mind. “Intermediate flattery behavior detected. Deducting 5,000 dollars.” Fuming, I responded, “It’s okay. Just okay.” Based on what I knew of Theodore, I expected him to turn red with anger, grab me by the throat, and growl, “Woman, you’re out of the line.” But he didn’t.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “295316”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster #现实主义Realistic #浪漫Romance #励志Inspiring #惊悚Thriller #魔幻Magic #校园School #狼人Werewolf #擦边Steamy #重生Reborn

In my past life, I won the grand prize of $99,000 at the company’s annual party. But my coworker publicly accused me of having an affair with our manager, claiming we had rigged the prize draw. From then on, I fell into a trap of trying to prove my innocence. Whether it was prize money, project bonuses, or promotion opportunities, I had to give them all up to avoid suspicion. But my coworkers still weren’t satisfied. At a construction site, they pushed me into a deep pit and buried me alive. Only as I lay dying did I learn the truth – my coworker was the one actually having an affair with our manager. They had conspired to frame me so they could take my position. Given a second chance at life, I decided to beat them at their own game. At the annual party, I preemptively confessed to dating the manager, announcing we’d been together for a year. 0 “Congratulations Rachel! It’s year-end and everyone’s rushing to submit expense reports. How did yours get approved so quickly?” “If you’ve got some secret trick, you can’t keep it to yourself. We’re all colleagues here – you wouldn’t want to see us stressed out over a bit of money, would you?” Amber tossed an expense report onto my desk, her tone dripping with sarcasm. Before I could defend myself, she continued: “I heard you had dinner with Mr. Blake last night. No wonder your expenses got approved today. Talk about greasing the wheels! What did you treat him to?” Amber claimed I’d treated the manager to dinner, but her mocking gaze roved over my face and chest, clearly implying I’d used my feminine charms to bribe the boss for preferential treatment. Everyone in the office was already distracted as the year wound down. Amber’s loud voice immediately drew all eyes to me. “Oh, so that’s how it is! I was wondering why Mr. Blake had no plans yesterday but still waited around for Rachel to leave work together. Tsk tsk.” “Rachel, come on. It’s not like they won’t reimburse us eventually. Why did you have to cut in line?” “Was it really worth buying dinner just to get reimbursed first? Seems excessive.” Gossip and speculation filled the office. Amber looked increasingly smug. Seeing me at a loss for words, she assumed I had no defense and started openly spreading rumors. “Rachel’s got quite the sweet deal going. Don’t our bonuses, raises, and promotions all depend on Mr. Blake’s say-so? I bet Rachel’s about to get promoted.” The entire office stared at me intently. Their gazes – eager, fierce, resentful – felt like they could pierce right through me. But my mind was stuck on memories of my past life. It had started just like this. Amber inexplicably spread rumors that the manager and I were having an affair. To prove my innocence, I was forced to give up everything I’d earned through my own hard work. First it was the chance to submit expenses first. Then the grand prize I won at the company party. Finally, a promotion opportunity. Amber’s relentless accusations made her seem like she was championing fairness and justice. In the end, she reaped all the benefits. I was reassigned from the office to a construction site. While inspecting the work quality there, Amber pushed me into a pit full of steel rebar. Only in that moment did I realize the truth – Amber was the one actually having an affair with the manager. They had conspired to frame me so they could take my position. 0

“Look, she’s speechless. Amber must be telling the truth after all.” “We absolutely cannot allow this kind of impropriety in our company. Rachel Johnson, give up your expense reimbursement priority right now!” The crowd was getting riled up. I had become public enemy number one. Someone asked nervously, “What if Mr. Blake retaliates against us?” Hearing this, Amber made a grand gesture. “What are you afraid of? I’m the one who exposed this. If there are any consequences, I’ll bear them alone!” Her bold declaration won a round of applause. As people clamored for me to give my reimbursement priority to Amber, I calmly stood up. Looking Amber straight in the eye, I said, “Technically, it wasn’t my turn to submit expenses first. And yes, I did use connections to cut in line. That part is true.” Amber’s smug expression grew even more pronounced. But she wouldn’t be smiling for long. I turned to address the crowd. “If I used connections to get preferential treatment, and Mr. Blake gave me special privileges, shouldn’t he be disciplined too?” In my past life, faced with accusations and false charges, I had only wanted to quickly prove my innocence. I didn’t realize Mr. Blake and Amber were in cahoots, so I fell into a trap of trying to defend myself. No matter how much evidence I produced, as long as Mr. Blake insisted he was my boyfriend, who would believe anything I said? Now I understood – if you’re going to accuse me, I’ll drag you all down with me! Sure enough, at the mention of disciplining the manager, the previously righteous crowd suddenly fell silent. They were only brave enough to bully me as a group. Deep down, they knew that whether it was expense reimbursement priority or promotion opportunities, none of it would actually benefit them in the end. They just wanted to see someone else suffer. Amber hadn’t expected me to respond this way. She rushed to defend her lover. “You brought this on yourself by being cheap and easy. It has nothing to do with anyone else. Mr. Blake is a victim too!” The others immediately chimed in to agree. “That’s right, if you hadn’t seduced Mr. Blake, he wouldn’t have given you special treatment.” “We all know what kind of person Mr. Blake is. He just fell for your tricks for a moment.” “Maybe she’s framing him! Mr. Blake could be getting blackmailed.” 0

Memories of my past life began to overlap with the current scene. Looking at these people’s unchanged faces, I could only laugh coldly to myself. The sales department’s salaries were based on performance. If you didn’t meet the company’s targets, you only got the base salary of 2000. A n d 2000.And2000 was barely enough to survive on in this big city. When I first came here from my small hometown, sales was the only job I could get without a degree or connections. To meet my targets, I went from never drinking to being able to outdrink a table full of men. I stood on street corners handing out flyers in freezing weather, sometimes for an entire day. Having been through hard times myself, I wanted to help others when I could. After becoming the top salesperson, I often shared my performance numbers with colleagues to ensure everyone in the sales department got at least $5000 a month. Not only that, I would win back clients they had lost and handle difficult situations they couldn’t manage. I remember how grateful they always were when I shared my performance numbers with them, helping them calculate how much they’d be able to earn that month. “Thank you so much Rachel! I don’t know what I would’ve done this month without you.” “Rachel, you’re the best! You even bought us gloves and scarves. Now we won’t get frostbite when we’re out chasing sales.” “We love you Rachel!” But look at them now. Where was any trace of gratitude for what I’d done? In my past life, Amber’s accusations were full of holes, but they believed her without question. They immediately banded together to report me to the boss, demanding I be fired. When I produced evidence proving my innocence, they made snide remarks, asking if I could guarantee I’d always remain pure and innocent in the future. After Amber got promoted, she didn’t have the skills to lead the sales team to meet targets. Everyone naturally blamed me, insisting I take on the entire department’s sales goals. And in my foolishness, trying to prove my abilities and innocence, I actually did it. In the end, the whole department shared the bonus, while I was relegated to the construction site. When I died tragically, not a single person remembered the good I had done. If that’s how it is, then this time we’ll see who has the last laugh! 0

Amidst the chorus of condemnation, I calmly accepted giving up my reimbursement priority and promised not to cause trouble for Mr. Blake. Amber couldn’t believe I would agree so easily. She kept pressing: “You really mean it? No take-backs!” I casually reassured her: “If I go back on my word, you can report me to the boss and get me fired.” Satisfied with my answer, Amber gleefully headed to the finance office. I opened up the performance report I had prepared earlier. In previous years, to ensure everyone in the sales department could have a good holiday bonus, I had always evenly distributed my performance numbers among those who hadn’t met their targets. That way, everyone could get a year-end bonus. But this time, I had adjusted the report to show everyone’s true performance numbers. I sent it off to the boss’s email. At this point, the rest of the sales department had no idea they were about to lose their year-end bonuses. They were excitedly discussing plans for the upcoming company party. I sat silently in my chair, listening to them talk about the party. The light in my eyes grew dim as I recalled what had happened last time. In my past life, I had won the grand prize of $99,000 that the boss had prepared. It was the biggest prize at the party. But before I could even celebrate, Amber jumped on stage and grabbed the microphone to “expose” my affair with Mr. Blake. She claimed he had told me in advance where the prize was hidden. I tried to explain, but Mr. Blake beat me to it. He rushed to apologize to the boss, admitting to the non-existent affair and confirming he had told me about the prize location. His confession caught me completely off guard. My attempts to explain became stuttering and unconvincing. Faced with Mr. Blake’s impassioned confession and my clumsy denials, the boss chose to believe him. To prove my innocence, I decided to give up the prize money. In the end, the grand prize went to Amber for her “courage” in exposing office impropriety. The boss forgave Mr. Blake for his sincere apology, viewing my continued protests as dishonest excuses. I lost my year-end bonus as well. Lost in angry memories, I glanced at the time. I knew the boss would be arriving at the office soon, just like in my past life. The moment to launch my counterattack was approaching. 0

At 3:10 PM sharp, the boss entered the office right on schedule, just like last time. But unlike my previous life, this time he stormed in looking harried, phone clutched to his ear. As soon as he entered, the boss shouted towards the sales department: “Rachel! What’s going on? Why haven’t you sent the deposit for the party venue yet? The hotel says they’re going to give our spot away!” I poked my head up from my cubicle, putting on a helpless expression. “I’m sorry boss, I couldn’t. My expense report hasn’t been approved yet, so I don’t have the money to front it.” Hearing this, the boss grew even angrier. “Didn’t I tell you to submit your expenses first? Is the finance department dead or something? Why haven’t they paid you yet!” Amber had no idea what was happening outside. She emerged from the finance office with a huge grin, eager to show off. “Being first to get reimbursed is great! $3,200 in my pocket!” She had barely finished speaking when she saw the boss’s furious face. And the boss had heard her bragging about being first to get reimbursed. “What’s going on here? I told Rachel to submit her expenses first. How did you cut in line?” Only now did Amber realize that my reimbursement priority hadn’t come from Mr. Blake’s favoritism, but from the boss himself. Her smug little scheme was about to earn her the full brunt of the boss’s rage. “Boss, I—” “You what? Were you that desperate for $3,000? Are you starving? Can’t afford clothes?” “Do you know how much trouble you’ve caused? We don’t have a venue for tonight’s party now. Are you going to find us one?” “Useless! What are you still standing there for? Waiting for me to fire you?!” Amber’s excuses died in her throat. As I stood up to head to the finance office, I brushed past her and whispered in her ear: “This is just the beginning. You’d better watch out.” Amber’s eyes widened as she bit her lip hard. But she could only watch helplessly as I walked into the finance office. I knew her heart was full of hatred for me. That hatred would make her even more vicious when she tried to frame me at tonight’s party. But it didn’t matter. As the finance stamp hit my expense report, I had already come up with a plan to turn the tables tonight. 0

Soon enough, 5:20 PM rolled around. My coworkers and I arrived at the hotel for the company party. The whole venue was decked out lavishly, a clear sign the boss had raked in serious profits this year. Otherwise he wouldn’t be so generous with that $99,000 grand prize. As soon as I entered, I spotted Amber and Mr. Blake whispering together in a corner. The two of them looked exactly as scheming as they had in my past life. After pushing me into that pit, they had stood over my body impaled on steel rebar, passing final judgment on me as I lay dying. “Rachel Johnson, this is what you get for always trying to be first at everything.” “With you around, I could never get ahead in the sales department. My husband’s position would eventually be replaced by you too.” “Look how hated you are. Even the people you helped despise you behind your back.” “Did you really think anyone needed your pathetic charity? Did it make you feel good to treat us like beggars?” My eyes had bulged with pain as I took my final breaths, unable to close them even in death. Only then did I realize that my attempts to help had been seen as humiliation in their eyes. They smiled and thanked me to my face while viewing me as their greatest enemy. Seeing my icy glare, Amber’s face changed. She quickly stepped away from Mr. Blake. This time, I didn’t sit with the sales department. Instead, I took the seat the boss had prepared for me in advance. To my right was a prize wall for the raffle draw. In the second box of the third row was the $99,000 grand prize that had led to my disgrace and wrongful death in my past life. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Amber and Mr. Blake’s gazes fixed on me as I stared at the prizes. As the top salesperson, I would be the first to draw a prize. Mr. Blake had placed that reward in this spot based on my usual habits. To escape their trap, I simply needed to choose a different prize. But I refused to back down. I had earned this through my own efforts – there was no way I would give it up!

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “295315”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster #现实主义Realistic #浪漫Romance #励志Inspiring #惊悚Thriller #魔幻Magic #校园School #狼人Werewolf #擦边Steamy #重生Reborn

In the dead of night, I came across a post online. “What should I do if I’ve fallen for my female tenant? I’ve never liked someone this much before.” Just when I thought it was going to be some sweet story about a secret crush, things started to feel strange as I kept reading. The photos in the post looked a lot like the hallway in my building. The description matched me perfectly, but I wasn’t the tenant – I was the landlord. People in the comments were giving him advice: “Women are just playing hard to get. Give her a forceful kiss, and she’ll give in eventually.” “Even the toughest girls can’t resist persistence. Plus, you’re so handsome, she definitely won’t be able to turn you down.” “That’s how I got my wife. Once you sleep with her, she’ll do whatever you want.” The more I read, the more unsettled I felt. This wasn’t romance – it was straight-up harassment. Just then, my tenant Lucas sent me a message. It was past midnight when I came across a post online. “What should I do if I’ve fallen for my female tenant? I’ve never liked someone this much before.” At first, I thought it was just another sweet story about a secret crush. But as I kept reading, things started to feel off. The photos in the post looked eerily similar to the hallway in my apartment building. The description of the girl matched me perfectly. But here’s the thing – I wasn’t a tenant. I was the landlord. People in the comments were giving him advice: “Women are just playing hard to get. Give her a forceful kiss, and she’ll give in eventually.” “Even the toughest girls can’t resist persistence. Plus, you’re so handsome, she definitely won’t be able to turn you down.” “That’s how I got my wife. Once you sleep with her, she’ll do whatever you want.” The more I read, the more unsettled I felt. This wasn’t romance – it was straight-up harassment. Just then, I got a message from my tenant, Lucas. “Hey, are you there? I think there might be a problem with the plumbing in my apartment. Could you come take a look?” If I hadn’t seen that post, I probably would have gone over without a second thought. As a long-time landlord, I was pretty handy with minor repairs like changing light bulbs, fixing pipes, or unclogging toilets. I always tried my best to help tenants with issues within my abilities. But now, I was hesitant to go. That post alone was enough to give me the creeps. Plus, I had just had the entire building thoroughly inspected a few days ago. All the plumbing and electrical systems were fine. How could there suddenly be a problem right after he moved in? I looked out at the pitch-black sky and felt a chill run down my spine. It was summer, but I felt an icy wind seeping under my clothes. I decided to assume the worst and be cautious. With that in mind, I typed out a response: “I’m not home today, and I’m not really sure how to fix plumbing issues. How about my boyfriend comes by to take a look tomorrow? What time works for you?” Lucas’s status immediately changed to “typing”. He seemed to be struggling with how to reply. I didn’t bother waiting and went to get ready for bed. Maybe it was just my imagination, but I felt like there was a pair of eyes watching me from somewhere in the darkness. I didn’t even shower, just rushed to my bedroom. I wedged a door stopper under the door, finally feeling a bit safer. I had just picked up my phone when I saw Lucas’s reply. “How about 8 PM? That’s when I get off work.” I let out a sigh of relief. Maybe it was just a coincidence after all. I mean, apartment hallways all look pretty similar. And there were probably tons of girls in the city with long black hair who were 5’6″ like me. Plus, the guy in the post said he liked his female tenant. I was the landlord, not a tenant. Most importantly, Lucas was pretty average-looking. You could easily forget his face in a crowd. He definitely wasn’t the handsome guy from the post. As they say, your face reflects your heart. Who would have thought such an attractive exterior could hide such an ugly soul? Just moments ago, I saw the poster like and reply “DM me” to one of the comments giving him advice. He clearly had bad intentions. Like many others, I saved the post, curious to see what he would do next. But now I had to figure out what to do about this fake boyfriend tomorrow. I wasn’t actually dating anyone. With that in mind, I called up my good friend Ryan and asked him to pretend to be my boyfriend tomorrow. It never hurts to be cautious. Pretending to have a boyfriend can help avoid a lot of unnecessary trouble.

The next day, as I was getting ready to head out, I ran into Lucas face-to-face. I had rented him the apartment above mine. The elevator was working fine, so he must have been deliberately waiting there. When I opened my door, I saw him quickly step back. He had been standing right outside my apartment. My heart skipped a beat as I suddenly thought of all those news stories about women living alone who end up as victims. In that moment, I deeply regretted not having Ryan come over earlier. “Amelia? I thought you weren’t home?” Lucas said. Those words sent chills down my spine. If he thought I wasn’t home, why was he waiting outside my door? What was he planning to do? Trying to hide my fear, I replied coldly, “I got back early this morning. What are you doing outside my apartment? My boyfriend will be here any minute. If you don’t need anything, he can head to your place earlier.” Lucas scratched his head, looking a bit embarrassed. “My cat got out. I thought I heard meowing coming from your apartment. Did it maybe sneak in there?” As he spoke, he tried to peek into my apartment, his eyes darting around. “I don’t have a cat. Go look somewhere else,” I said firmly. But he ignored me and took a step forward, wedging his foot in the doorway. “I’ll just take a quick look. I won’t bother you, I promise. Please let me in,” he insisted. I instinctively tried to close the door, but I was no match for a grown man, even a skinny one like him. “If you don’t back off, I’m calling the police!” I threatened. Just then, my savior arrived. “Hey! What do you think you’re doing?” Ryan shouted. With one hand, he yanked Lucas away from the door and slammed him against the opposite wall. Lucas let out a yelp as he hit the wall and slumped to the floor. “Were you trying to break in? I’m calling the cops!” Ryan pulled out his phone, looking ready to actually call. Lucas scrambled to his feet, ignoring the pain, and quickly apologized to Ryan. “No, no, please don’t! I was just trying to find my cat. She closed the door on my foot when I tried to look inside. I wasn’t breaking in, I swear. It’s all a misunderstanding!” “I’m not the one you should be apologizing to!” Ryan snapped. Lucas turned to me and bowed deeply, apologizing profusely. Now that I had calmed down a bit, I wanted to confirm one more thing. “This is my boyfriend,” I said, gesturing to Ryan. “Didn’t you say your plumbing was broken? Why don’t we go take a look now?” Lucas’s expression flickered for a moment before he replied, “Oh, the plumbing? I actually managed to fix it myself yesterday. Everything’s fine now. Sorry for the trouble.” With that, he turned and left, not mentioning the cat again. I was in no state to go to work. All I could think about was Lucas trying to force his way into my apartment. If Ryan hadn’t shown up, I didn’t want to imagine what might have happened. I sat on the couch as Ryan brought me a glass of water. “Are you okay?” he asked gently. “I’m fine. How did you get here so early?” Ryan stuffed a bagel in his mouth. “Your message last night freaked me out. I flew back first thing this morning and came straight here. Good thing I did.” “How long is your lease with this guy? Just terminate it. Having someone like that living nearby is like a ticking time bomb.” So I sent Lucas a message saying I was terminating his lease. He didn’t reply for a long time. But I saw that the post about the crush had been updated: “The female tenant has a boyfriend. He’s tall, dark, and handsome. But I think I still have a good chance. After all, girls these days prefer slim, fair-skinned guys like me.” “I went to her door today looking for my lost cat. We chatted a bit, and she even batted her eyelashes at me. Her boyfriend caught us and punched me.” “Now she says she doesn’t want to rent to me anymore. It must be her boyfriend’s idea. Can anyone tell me what I should do?” Now I was certain the poster was Lucas. Even if the earlier similarities were coincidental, there was no way this could be another coincidence. He must have stolen the profile picture from someone else. Some commenters were starting to catch on: “Homewreckers are despicable.” “Even if you’re handsome, it’s not okay to break up someone else’s relationship.” But some people still believed in “looks are everything”: “She flirted with him too! It’s not like the guy is delusional.” “OMG, not only is he gorgeous, but he’s also an animal lover? I’m in love!” “I live for this kind of forbidden romance.” “Keep pursuing her! Maybe she’ll dump her boyfriend and get with you. The tenant could become the landlady!” I forwarded the post to Ryan. “‘Tall, dark, and handsome’? Excuse me, this is called a sun-kissed glow. I worked hard for this tan, thank you very much! What does he know? Who would want a scrawny guy who goes down with one punch? My lean muscles are what’s trendy now!” Ryan’s finger swiped left, opening the poster’s profile. “Wait a second. This photo…”

“What about the photo?” I asked. Ryan’s face lit up with glee as he pointed at the profile picture. “This guy is our CEO’s son. He’s usually such an arrogant jerk. Can you imagine what would happen if he found out Lucas stole his photos and was posting this kind of stuff online? Or what if the CEO learned someone was tarnishing his son’s reputation on the internet? What do you think he’d do?” Ryan cackled and forwarded the post to our CEO. “Big news, boss! Your son is trying to be a homewrecker!” Then he deleted the message exactly 2 minutes and 50 seconds later. I asked if he was worried about getting in trouble with upper management. He shook his head. “The CEO isn’t that petty. He might even thank me for letting him know before his son does something worse.” I could only pray that guy wouldn’t get beaten too badly. Sorry, dude. Lucas was still replying to comments: “Thanks for the support, everyone! I won’t give up. Even if I have to be the other man, I’ll win over my female tenant!” What a joke. He was the tenant, pretending to be the landlord. How insecure must he be about his own identity? He also argued with those calling him a homewrecker: “You don’t know anything! This is about pursuing true love!” “I know you’re just jealous because you’re unlucky in love. It must kill you that I’m handsome and own several rental properties.” “I’m not blind. I know when a woman is flirting with me. She wore a short skirt when she came to view the apartment. If that’s not seduction, what is?” Good grief. Wearing a short skirt is seduction? Then every woman on the street must be trying to seduce him. It’s summer – am I supposed to wear snow pants instead of a skirt? The more I read, the more disgusted I felt. How could someone so ordinary be so delusional and such a liar? That familiar username popped up again with more “advice”. His handle was WildHeart. “Don’t doubt yourself. When a woman wears a short skirt, she’s deliberately trying to seduce men. That’s how I got my wife – I couldn’t resist when she wore a short skirt. She cried and threw a fit afterwards, but after I sweet-talked her, didn’t she end up marrying me? She went from a country bumpkin to a city girl overnight. Now she’s living the high life. You’re being too gentle. Next time her boyfriend isn’t around, just force yourself on her. She’ll give in eventually.” This was straight-up inciting criminal behavior. Did he think there were no consequences for what you say online? I saved his comments as evidence and consulted a lawyer, but they said a case couldn’t be opened without something actually happening. I was furious but felt helpless. Women in this world have to face so many dangers and endure so much malice. Not only is wearing a skirt seen as an invitation, but even walking down the street can lead to harassment. It’s terrifying. WildHeart’s comment section was flooded with angry replies, but he didn’t care. He just blocked anyone who criticized him. I clicked on his profile and found it was full of toxic posts. He said being assaulted wasn’t a bad thing for women because it could increase the birth rate. He also claimed women these days don’t have children because they’re too educated. The guy was clearly insane. That night, Ryan stayed in my guest room. He even skipped work, worried something might happen to me. When my mom heard about the situation, she told me to move out immediately. These days, losing money was nothing compared to encountering someone truly dangerous. What rotten luck – I was the landlord being forced out by a tenant. As I was packing my things, Ryan called out from the window. “Our CEO’s son just showed up with five huge guys and a baseball bat! His face looks a bit swollen – the CEO probably smacked him around. Looks like he’s here for revenge on Lucas.” From the stairwell, we watched the young man kick down Lucas’s door. “Open up!” he shouted. When Lucas didn’t answer, the young man ordered his crew to pick the lock. “So you’re the ugly loser pretending to be me online and ruining my reputation?”

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I had just closed a major deal for the company when I received a ring from my girlfriend. Excited, I shared the news on Instagram, thinking she was finally ready to make our relationship official. But suddenly, my girlfriend’s newly hired male assistant slapped me and flipped over my desk: “You’re a director, for crying out loud! How dare you steal the gift my wife gave me? Have you no shame?” Instead of defending me, my girlfriend Gwendolyn said I didn’t deserve my position and publicly announced that her assistant Rowan would take over the big project I had just secured. That’s when I realized Gwendolyn wasn’t planning to go public with our relationship – she was going public with him. The whole office was filming the drama on their phones, enjoying the spectacle. But I didn’t get angry. Instead, I smiled and handed my employee badge to Rowan. “So you’re the CEO’s better half. Here, take the director position as my apology. Wishing you both a lifetime of happiness.” Seeing my unexpected reaction, a colleague pulled me aside and whispered: “Don’t do anything rash. You can always land another project.” But what he didn’t know was that I wasn’t being impulsive at all. Yesterday, as I passed by the office, I overheard Gwendolyn’s assistant Rowan pestering her: “Gwendolyn, I want to make something of myself. Give me this new project you just landed. I promise I’ll do a great job and impress you.” At the time, I didn’t think much of it. Gwendolyn and I had been secret lovers for seven years. I had turned down offers from big companies to help her start this business. I had secured 90% of the company’s projects. Gwendolyn knew better than anyone how hard the journey had been. She was also a woman of principle who would never mess with important matters like projects. Moreover, she had once had a project stolen by an opportunist and hated that type of person the most. So when I saw the ring Gwendolyn sent today, I thought she had finally realized I was the best choice and wanted to marry me. I never expected Rowan to turn the tables on me, smearing my reputation by calling me a thief and humiliating me. I was even more shocked that Gwendolyn would abandon her principles for Rowan, who had only been with the company for a few short months. If that’s how it was going to be, I had no reason to stay at this crappy company. Gwendolyn still didn’t realize I had seen through their childish scheme. She thought I was just jealous. She suddenly frowned at me: “What’s with the sarcasm?” Ever since Rowan showed up, she always looked at me with prejudice. This time I didn’t waste my breath arguing. I just calmly said: “You’re overthinking it. I really am giving it to him.” I was giving him both my girlfriend and my job. I was about to leave when Gwendolyn grabbed my arm and dragged me to her office, her face cold. The company wasn’t big, and the office had poor soundproofing. As soon as she closed the office door, the employees outside who had been watching the drama eagerly started sucking up to Rowan, asking when he was getting married and having kids. Rowan responded shyly: “Having children is hard on women. I can’t make that decision for her.” He was already acting like Gwendolyn’s official boyfriend. And because of Gwendolyn’s silence on the matter, the employees believed it wholeheartedly. Hearing this, Gwendolyn’s hand froze as she was pouring water. Realizing she owed me an explanation, she softened her usually stern tone: “Rowan’s just a kid who doesn’t know any better. He was just joking around, don’t take it to heart.” “He has relatives at the client company. This project was landed thanks to him.” I gave her a speechless look. How ridiculous! The client, Thunder Tech, had a professional in-house tech team and didn’t need to outsource. They had rejected collaboration from the start. I was the one who refused to give up, begging and gifting until I finally got a meeting with the person in charge. He generously gave me 30 seconds, and I seized the opportunity to pitch our product. Seeing my capabilities, he tried to poach me with a high salary. When that failed, he agreed to collaborate. I had been pulling all-nighters and running around for this project, but she didn’t see any of that. Yet she believed Rowan’s casual claim without question. If she had given it even a moment’s thought, she would have realized that if Rowan really had those connections, he wouldn’t be working as an assistant at our small, struggling company. Or perhaps she understood everything and was just playing dumb. Seeing that I remained silent, Gwendolyn lowered her eyes for a moment, then took the initiative to make me a cup of coffee. She leaned close to my ear and whispered: “I’m just pretending with him. You’re the only one I’ll marry.” In the past, whenever we argued, I would forgive her without principle as soon as she softened her voice and made promises. So this time, she thought it would work the same way. She waved her hand dismissively: “Go back to work. I’ll handle the project situation.” But what she didn’t know was that I no longer wanted her. I pushed back my chair and stood up: “No need to go to all that trouble. I’ll just leave.” With that, I pulled out a resignation form, filled it out without hesitation, and walked out of the office.

Seeing that I was about to leave, Rowan hurried to block my way, putting on an act of being wronged: “Felix, I know you’re an expert in the industry. You’re right, I’m not qualified for the technical director position. Here, take it back.” He grabbed the employee badge and tried to shove it at me. I simply pushed him lightly, but he took the opportunity to fall dramatically, knocking over a chair and pulling down a computer in the process, alarming the surrounding colleagues. Rowan got up and waved off the concerned inquiries from coworkers, saying it was no big deal. Gwendolyn, startled by the commotion, came running in her 4-inch heels. After making sure Rowan was unharmed, she glared at me with furrowed brows: “Felix, don’t think you can do whatever you want just because you’re a long-time employee.” Hearing this, the surrounding colleagues jumped in to lecture me: “Yeah, Felix. The old giving way to the new is for the company’s development. Don’t bully the newcomer just because you have seniority.” The harshest words came from Jack, the protégé I had personally mentored: “So what if you landed a few projects? You’re acting like you own the place.” “Got addicted to playing favorites, huh? Can’t even respect a genius like Rowan?” We had worked together for years, and I was the top salesperson. In the past, everyone respectfully called me “Felix” when they saw me. Now they were all gloating, staring at me with schadenfreude, eager for me to get lost. Whatever. Let them say what they want. I was done here. I left the company without another word. Gwendolyn chased after me. Seeing no one else around, she rubbed her forehead and said: “You’re just overworked lately. I’ll approve some time off for you to rest.” “Today is our 7th anniversary. Wait for me at home, I have a surprise for you.” As she finished speaking, the elevator arrived. I stepped in without saying a word. Back home, I cooked myself dinner without waiting for her. She still hadn’t returned by nightfall. I put on my shoes and tidied up a bit before heading out to meet with the client representative, but I ran into a coworker on the way. This guy was slow on the uptake, so he hadn’t distanced himself from me like the others. He still greeted me enthusiastically. “Felix! Are you going to the promotion party Gwendolyn’s throwing for Director Rowan? Let’s go together and split the cab fare!” He happily said he finally didn’t have to take the subway, but I shook my head: “That’s not where I’m going.” He gave me an awkward look: “Gwendolyn didn’t invite you?” I nodded indifferently and walked away. I faintly heard him muttering “Gwendolyn sure plays favorites,” but I didn’t look back. She never played favorites. She just favored Rowan. For Rowan’s sake, she could do anything. Breaking promises to me wasn’t unusual. Previously, when I was hospitalized with pneumonia, she said she’d come see me after a meeting. I waited until dawn before she finally showed up, claiming she was working overtime when in reality she was watching a movie with Rowan. A while back, we had an appointment to take couple photos. I waited in a suit until the store closed. She arrived unhurriedly, saying work had held her up, but she had actually taken Rowan shopping for some well-fitting clothes. There were countless similar incidents. Every time I questioned her, she would coldly scold me with a “work comes first” attitude. This dynamic was exhausting. At the café, the client representative looked at the progress report I submitted and exclaimed in admiration: “Felix, are you sure you don’t want to switch companies? We can offer ten times your current salary.” This time, I didn’t refuse. The client representative was delighted and said we could negotiate any requests I had. After discussing the benefits package with him, I returned home to find Gwendolyn sitting on the couch waiting for me, with takeout boxes packed. She had stood me up again. In the past, she would offer a litany of explanations, but this time she said nothing. After a moment of silence, she pushed the food containers towards me: “You must be tired today too. No need to cook, just heat this up and eat.” I glanced down. Various dishes were piled together unattractively in the plastic containers. There were stir-fried and boiled dishes, and even a piece of steamed cake soaking in the soup. It was clearly leftovers, carelessly packed up. She didn’t even bother to pack things separately, just mixed everything in one big container. It looked unappetizing just looking at it. I waved my hand: “No need, I’ve already eaten.” Gwendolyn gave me a long look, and the usually cold woman took the initiative to wrap her arms around my waist: “I’m sorry. He just got promoted, so as the boss, I had to show some support.” “I know you were wronged today. Let’s get our marriage license this weekend.” Hah! Easy for her to say. But when I was promoted to director, I happily took the initiative to throw myself a promotion party. I waited expectantly in the private room. The waiter reheated the food five times. I waited until the restaurant closed, but not a single colleague dared to show up. I sent message after message, but they all sank like stones. A kind-hearted colleague secretly asked if I had offended the CEO. I was baffled at the time. It wasn’t until later that I found out. When I wasn’t in the office, she had coldly scolded each colleague who said they were going to attend the party: “Is your workload too light? Bored out of your minds?” “All you think about is eating, drinking, and having fun. Is this what the company is paying you useless people for? You might as well quit now!” Thinking of this, I pried her restless hands from my waist and said coldly: “There’s no need for that, Gwendolyn. Let’s break up.”

The atmosphere in the room instantly froze. Gwendolyn took a deep breath, unable to hold back her emotions any longer: “I’ve made all these sacrifices for the company’s development. Other men would be grateful, why can’t you see that?” I ignored her twisted logic. She continued muttering about the importance of the company’s development as usual, saying that when the company went public in the future, she would give me a place. I had heard this so many times my ears were growing calluses. I raised my hand to interrupt her: “No need. I’ll pack my things and move out now.” It was the first time Gwendolyn’s words had been interrupted since she became the imposing boss. Her face flushed red with anger. She glared at me for a long while before coldly snorting: “No need. I’ll leave!” She slammed the door as she left. I didn’t chase after her, silently packing my things instead. The client company had arranged a free luxury single room in their staff dormitory for me, which I could move into anytime. I had just finished packing when I called a moving company. As they were nearly done moving things, I happened to run into Rowan sending Gwendolyn home. They were holding hands, chatting and laughing together. Gwendolyn had also shed her cold CEO demeanor, lowering her head with a sweet smile as she stood beside Rowan, the picture of a demure and virtuous woman. Rowan noticed me first and deliberately held her hand tighter. Gwendolyn sensed something was off and followed his gaze to see me. She hurriedly let go of his hand. She walked up to me, habitually about to explain, but when she saw me loading boxes into a van, she was stunned for a moment before changing tack to ask: “Where are you going so late at night?” Are you blind? Can’t you see the big “Moving Company” sign? I was about to continue loading boxes. But Gwendolyn blocked my way, suddenly shoving the clothes she was carrying into my arms. Seeing I didn’t react, she took out the clothes and held them up against me: “I know you’ve been too busy to buy clothes lately, so I picked these up for you when I passed by the mall.” Bought for me? My build requires XL sizes, but this brand-name shirt was a size M. The receipt that fell out of the bag showed it was paid for with Gwendolyn’s credit card, and the price was over $1000. This wasn’t something she casually bought for me. She must have taken Rowan to the store to try on clothes. She sure was generous. Just two days ago, I bought a $20 shirt and asked her if it looked good. She coldly scolded me for wasting money, lecturing me for over an hour about how hard it was to earn money, saying that dressing well wasn’t as important as having real skills. What now? Has earning money suddenly become easy? I put my hands in my pockets and coldly looked at them: “No need. As they say, ‘clothes make the man, saddles make the horse, and bells make the dog run faster.’ These expensive clothes are better left for Director Rowan.” Rowan froze for a moment as he took the clothes, then reacted and angrily threw them down: “How dare you insult me?” He glared at me with reddened eyes, rushing forward to attack. I stood my ground and slapped him, sending him tumbling to the ground: “Not just insult you. I dare to hit you too.” Rowan’s thin limbs were like sticks. The only reason he had managed to hit me earlier was because I was caught off guard. Now, I had returned that slap. Gwendolyn cried out, hugging Rowan protectively: “Felix! We can talk this out. Why did you have to hit him?” “If you want to leave, then leave! Don’t come back!” She didn’t need to tell me. I had no intention of coming back. I turned and got into the moving van, speeding off towards my new life.

After resigning, I went straight to work for the client company, Thunder Tech, where I was entrusted with important responsibilities. When I returned to Gwendolyn’s company as a client representative, I was welcomed in by the receptionist. As soon as I walked into the office area, I saw Rowan wearing a director’s badge, strutting between employee workstations: “Make this logo bigger, but also smaller at the same time.” “When I said make it black, I didn’t mean pure black. I meant that iridescent black, like a crow’s wings.” “Looking at it again, the first version is better overall. But I like the font from the seventh version, and the color from the sixteenth… Make those changes and let me see it today.” The employees at their desks were full of resentment. Someone couldn’t hold back and retorted: “This design has already been approved by the client. The main issue now is the stability of the program.” Rowan snorted coldly: “The client is just a nouveau riche. What do they know about true art?” “I’m the director, so listen to me. With my top-tier aesthetics, the client is sure to be satisfied. They might even give us a bonus.” Give me a break! The company developed a brand new system just to provide convenience for users, not to open an online art exhibition! Moreover, the text was so colorful it was barely legible. Were they trying to contribute to the hospital’s ophthalmology department? With Rowan’s level of competence being so highly valued, no wonder efficiency was plummeting. The program crashed as soon as it ran, and the quality had deteriorated beyond recognition. Some colleagues noticed my presence. Those once hostile eyes now turned to me for help. And my former apprentice Jack, who had said harsh things about me, had already been kicked out of the core team and demoted to buying coffee at his own expense. Rowan swept a contemptuous glance over me: “Looks like I need to suggest to Gwendolyn that we add a security position. Otherwise, any stray cat or dog can wander into the company.” The receptionist was about to remind him to watch his words, as I was representing the client. The next second, Gwendolyn strode past me in her stilettos. Thinking I had come to apologize, she snorted: “Well, if it isn’t Director Felix. Realized jobs aren’t easy to find out there and want to come back?” Rowan chuckled, pretending to be kind: “I think highly of Felix’s abilities. I think we can arrange a manager position for him. Work hard under me, and you’ll make something of yourself in no time.” Gwendolyn crossed her arms and looked at me with disdain: “Manager? He wishes!” “If you want to come back, you can start over as an entry-level employee. Half salary, no performance bonuses.” The other colleagues gasped, distancing themselves from me, afraid of being tainted by my bad luck. I couldn’t help but laugh. Gwendolyn raised an eyebrow, asking curiously: “What are you laughing at?” I silently took out a contract from my briefcase and slapped it on the table: “Let me reintroduce myself. I’m Felix, Technical Director of Thunder Tech.” “I’m here to inform you that…” “The project is suspended, and the contract is terminated!”

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## My mom is what you’d call an enabler—especially when it comes to her brother. She’d rather let our family go hungry, scraping together pennies for a meal, just so she could send money to her precious brother. When she found out I’d won $5 million in the lottery, her first reaction wasn’t excitement for me or relief for our struggles. Nope. Her immediate thought was to use the money to help her dear brother buy a house and a car. “Your uncle’s son is getting older, and his girlfriend said she won’t marry him unless they have a house. Since you won the lottery, just give them the money. It’s the right thing to do.” The kicker? My mom said this while we were still living in a rented apartment. In my last life, she didn’t even bother asking me. She secretly gave the money to my uncle behind my back. Then, I got sick—a serious illness that required urgent treatment. We needed money fast, so I went to my uncle and begged him to return what he owed. But he slammed the door in my face, saying, “That money was a gift from your mom. It’s mine now.” In the end, because I couldn’t afford the surgery, I died in a hospital bed. At my funeral, my mom stood by my gravestone, sighing. “Well, you were just a girl. Girls are always someone else’s responsibility. Even if you’d kept the money, it would’ve been wasted on you.” Now, I wake up to find myself back on the day I discovered I’d won the lottery. This time, things are going to be different. ###

“Hey, sweetheart, there’s no food left in the house. Do you think you could ask your boss for an advance? Or maybe borrow some money from a friend?” I jolted back to reality, snapping out of my daze. My mom was sitting in the living room, her face full of worry, glancing at me expectantly. The scene felt eerily familiar—exactly how it had played out in my previous life. Without thinking, I shoved my hand into my pocket, gripping tightly onto the lottery ticket that was about to change my life. I opened my mouth, but instead of saying what I had before, I chose a new approach. “Mom, didn’t I just send you $500 a few days ago?” Her expression stiffened for a moment, but she quickly covered it up with a sigh. “Oh, well, your cousin said he wanted a new phone, but he didn’t have enough money, so I helped him out a bit.” I couldn’t help but laugh bitterly on the inside. I was still using my cousin’s old hand-me-down phone, one so slow that it took a full minute just to open an app. Meanwhile, my cousin, decked out in designer clothes, always seemed to be living far better than us. But none of that mattered to my mom—she lived to serve her family, always ready to hand over money. I feigned a troubled expression and walked into the kitchen. Opening the rice bin, I found it almost completely empty—just a few stray grains rattling around at the bottom. “Mom, the money I sent you was everything I had. Last month, you said Uncle’s family had an emergency, so I gave you my entire $1,000 savings to help them. I don’t have anything left.” At that moment, my mom’s stomach growled audibly, and her face clouded over with even more worry. I glanced at the clock, then grabbed her arm and pulled her toward the door. “Why don’t you go have dinner at Uncle’s house? It’s almost dinnertime anyway, and you can help Auntie cook while you’re there.” I rolled her electric scooter out of the garage and handed it to her. “I have to head to work—my boss just called me in to cover a shift.” She hesitated, looking back at me. “You really think it’s okay for me to go over there uninvited? Your aunt doesn’t exactly like me, you know.” I almost laughed out loud at the irony of her words. She *knew* Auntie didn’t like her, but that had never stopped her from bending over backward for them—sending them money, groceries, and even doing their housework. “It’s fine. Didn’t my cousin say the other day that he was craving your sweet and sour ribs?” Her face lit up just as I’d expected. “You’re right! I should go buy some ribs. I’ll get extra—little Mikey eats a lot.” She paused, realizing she’d said too much, then quickly hopped on her scooter and sped off. “I’ll head over now. Oh, and you should think about picking up a part-time job to earn a little extra cash!” I stood there, watching her ride away, her words still ringing in my ears. She cried poor to me, but all her money went to my uncle’s family. She didn’t even bother to ask if *I* had enough to eat or pay my bills. I worked late nights, often until 1 or 2 a.m., but it was never enough for her. Shaking my head, I went back inside, changed into a fresh set of clothes, and grabbed my hat and sunglasses. It was time to cash in my winning lottery ticket. — ###

In my previous life, I never understood my mom’s true nature. I kept telling myself that if I worked harder, achieved more, and treated her better, she’d finally see my worth and love me the way I wanted to be loved. So back then, the moment I realized I’d won the lottery, I couldn’t contain my excitement. I ran straight to her and blurted it out. “Mom, forget about buying rice! I’m taking you out for a fancy dinner. Guess what? I won the lottery—$5 million! We’ll never have to worry about money again!” She was overjoyed, but her first words weren’t about us. “That’s amazing! Now your cousin can finally get married. The girl’s family said they won’t approve unless he has a house and a car. Your uncle’s been so stressed about it.” She didn’t even pause to think. “I need to call your uncle and tell him the good news!” Her words made me freeze. I grabbed her arm, confused and angry. “Mom, this is *my* money. What does Uncle’s family have to do with it?” She looked at me, disappointed, as if I were the one being unreasonable. “Your uncle is my only sibling. When I’m gone, your cousin is the one who’ll take care of you. Don’t you want to build a good relationship with him?” Her logic made no sense to me. I was supposed to sacrifice my future for some vague promise of care from my cousin? I refused, but I had no idea she’d already made up her mind. Behind my back, she stole the winning ticket and gave it to my uncle. Uncle cashed it in, and his family took the entire $5 million for themselves. When I confronted them, my uncle laughed in my face. “That money? Your mom *gave* it to me. It’s mine now. Don’t even think about asking for it back.” When my health started failing and I needed surgery, I begged my uncle for help. He refused outright. “I don’t have money for that,” he said bluntly. “My wife’s pregnant, and raising a kid is expensive. Besides, your condition sounds serious. Why waste money on a lost cause?” When I brought up the lottery money, he got angry and hung up on me. “That was *your mom’s* gift to me. It’s got nothing to do with you!” When my mom found out, she scolded me for being selfish. “Your uncle has his own problems. You need to stop thinking about money and start valuing family.” In the end, I died at just 26, unable to afford the surgery I needed. At my funeral, my mom barely shed a tear. She stood by my grave and muttered, “You can’t blame me for this. You’re a girl—girls are meant to marry out. It’s not like the money would’ve done you any good.” I hated her with every fiber of my being. Now, I’ve been given a second chance. This time, I won’t let her control me. If she’s so desperate to sacrifice everything for her brother, she can go right ahead. But she’ll do it without me. ###

I didn’t tell anyone about winning the lottery. Instead, I disguised myself completely—baggy clothes, a mask, sunglasses, and even a new hairstyle. I made sure no one could recognize me before heading to the lottery office. I declined all interviews with reporters, paid the taxes, and soon after, $4 million landed in my bank account. Staring at all those zeros on the screen, I was so overwhelmed I couldn’t even speak. In my previous life, after finding out I’d won, I dreamed of countless ways to improve my life. But not a single one of those dreams came true. I still lived the same miserable existence—squeezing onto crowded buses every day to save money, refusing to buy even a bottle of water when I was thirsty. My boss and coworkers constantly picked on me, humiliating me at every turn. Even when I was burning up with a 102°F fever, I had to stay up late working overtime to finish reports. Meanwhile, my uncle and aunt lived like royalty, using *my* money to buy a house, drive luxury cars, and feast on the best food while traveling the world. My cousin posted pictures on social media, showing off his designer watch or the emblem of his sports car, captioned with: *”Who can understand the loneliness of someone like me?”* Well, now it’s my turn to experience the “loneliness of the rich.” — ###

The first thing I did after getting the money was schedule a full medical checkup. I wanted to make sure I was healthy. The results would take three days to process. After leaving the hospital, I decided to treat myself to a nice meal at a restaurant. Originally, I wanted to order everything I’d been too frugal to buy before—all the dishes I’d only dreamed of. But my years of penny-pinching had become second nature, and in the end, I only ordered two modest dishes. It didn’t matter, though. I had plenty of money now, and plenty of time. I could take my time savoring life’s luxuries. As the sky darkened and the clock neared 9 p.m., I noticed my phone had ten missed calls from my mom. Finally, I stood up and started heading home. On my way back, I stopped by a street vendor selling stir-fried noodles. I bought a box, stirred it up with my chopsticks, and threw half of it in the trash. “Forgive me,” I muttered under my breath, “but sacrifices must be made.” Then I carried the remaining half home. When I walked in, my mom was sitting in the living room, her face stormy with anger. The moment she saw me, she grabbed the ashtray from the table and hurled it at me, shouting furiously. “Do you even remember you have a home? I’m starving to death here, and you’re out doing who-knows-what!” I sidestepped the ashtray and held out the half-eaten box of noodles like a peace offering. Smiling apologetically, I said, “Sorry, Mom. My boss made me work overtime, and I couldn’t check my phone.” “This is the dinner my boss bought me. I saved most of it for you. There’s even some meat left in there.” Her mood flipped faster than a switch. She snatched the box from my hands, tears welling up in her eyes. “I’m such a useless mother,” she sobbed. “I can’t do anything for you. I have to rely on you to feed me. I might as well just die.” This didn’t happen in my previous life. But I knew this routine all too well. Four years ago, she’d pulled the same stunt to get me to quit my high-paying job in the city and move back to this small, dead-end town as a lowly office clerk. “Mom’s getting old,” she’d said back then, crying. “I don’t know how many years I have left. I just want to spend as much time with you as I can before I go.” Now, watching her put on the same performance, I felt a wave of wariness wash over me. But I played along, wiping my eyes dramatically. “Mom, don’t say that. Without you, this house wouldn’t feel like home. If you weren’t here, what would be the point of my life?” She sniffled, dabbing at her tears, and I mimicked her, sniffling even louder. Crying? Two could play at that game. When she finally caught her breath, she said, “Your aunt found you a potential match. I’ve already met him—he’s honest, hardworking, and a good guy. Why don’t you pick a date to get the marriage license?” She paused to sigh deeply, her voice tinged with longing. “My biggest wish is to see you get married and have kids.” And there it was. The real reason behind all this drama. I knew exactly who this “match” was. A 38-year-old divorced man with two kids—one of whom was about to graduate high school. His hairline was a proud homage to the “horseshoe” look, his face looked like it had survived a warzone, and his attitude reeked of a self-proclaimed patriarch. He was a Jacktic mix of styles, leaving his overall vibe a complete mystery. When I saw his picture for the first time, I honestly thought my aunt had found a new husband for *herself.* And yet, my mom still had the audacity to call this guy a “good catch”? Of course, it wasn’t about me. It was about the $20,000 dowry he’d promised her. ###

My cousin has been in a relationship for three years now. He’s turning 29 this year, and with 30 looming on the horizon, his entire family is in panic mode. My mom, of course, has joined the frenzy. If you didn’t know better, you’d think *he* was her son. The girlfriend’s family laid out their requirements: a fully paid, move-in-ready house with her name on the deed, a BMW, and a $70,000 cash dowry. My uncle’s family couldn’t come up with anywhere near that amount of money, so naturally, my mom turned her sights on me. Even $20,000 wouldn’t make much of a dent in their demands, but to her, every little bit helped. I knew her game plan inside and out. She was still rambling on about what a “great guy” my cousin was, even pulling out pictures to show me. I couldn’t bear to look and turned away, suddenly standing up and grabbing her hands. “Mom,” I said seriously, “I support you. Dad’s been gone for years, and I’m not the type of kid to stand in your way. If you like this man, then I think you should go for it. Move in with him, and you’ll even have his two kids to look after. It’ll give you something to do.” My mom froze like a jammed machine, her words cutting off mid-sentence. Her face turned red as she stammered, “W-what are you talking about? This isn’t for me! It’s for you!” I stared at her in disbelief. “This guy’s old enough to be my dad!” She avoided my eyes, wiping imaginary tears as she slumped onto the couch and started her usual sob story. “Your dad’s gone. The only family I have left is your uncle. When I was a kid and had nothing to eat, it was your uncle who gave me half a piece of bread and saved my life. Now that he’s in trouble, how could I not help him?” She sniffled dramatically. “It’s all my fault. I’m useless. What’s the point of me even being alive? I’m just a burden to you, and I can’t even help little Mikey. I should just die!” I clenched my fists so tightly my nails dug into my palms. “Mom, stop crying. I’ll go borrow money to help Mikey get married.” Her eyes widened in shock. “Sweetheart… that’s not what I meant.” But inside, I was laughing coldly. *Not what you meant? Then what was it? You’re practically selling off your own daughter to fund his wedding.* “Mom, you don’t have to say anything. I get it.” “I don’t have any other family. When I get married and move out, I’ll need Uncle’s family to have my back. Mikey is like a big brother to me, and if he’s in trouble, it’s my duty to help him, no matter what it costs me.” My mom’s face softened as tears welled up in her eyes. For the first time, she reached out and held my hand. “You’ve grown up, sweetheart. You finally understand the sacrifices I’ve made for this family.” I couldn’t stand looking at her fake, pitiful expression any longer. The very next day, I told her I was going on a work trip and moved out of the house entirely. I wired $20,000 to Mikey, who called me personally to thank me. “Nancy, you’re the best. With a sister like you, I’m so lucky. Don’t worry—when I’m doing well, I’ll make sure to take care of you.” Then, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, he added, “By the way, could you lend me a little more? My fiancée says she wants a nicer car. Nothing too crazy—just another $50,000 should do it.” Feigning hesitation, I told him I’d check my finances and get back to him. A few hours later, I wired him another $50,000. On the phone, he was over the moon, showering me with compliments. My mom, overhearing the call, chimed in, saying I was the best daughter in the world. Neither of them seemed remotely concerned about how I’d repay the $70,000 I’d borrowed. I watched them from afar, their faces glowing with excitement and greed. Go ahead, enjoy yourselves. It won’t be long before you realize the price you’ll have to pay.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “295311”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster #现实主义Realistic #浪漫Romance #励志Inspiring #惊悚Thriller #魔幻Magic #校园School #狼人Werewolf #擦边Steamy