It has been seven years since my daughter and I left the country, and thirteen-year-old Annie has blossomed into an internationally renowned piano prodigy.
No matter how complex the piece is, it flows into beautiful music under Annie’s fingers.
Yet there is one song she refuses to play, a simple lullaby, no matter how many times it is requested.
She fears that if she plays it again, she might go soft and forgive that man.
One day, Colt Jones, her birth father, brings a grand piano crafted by a master artisan and asks Annie to play the lullaby for him.
She calmly shakes her head.
“Sir, I don’t know how to play this piece,” she says.
Colt’s eyes redden as he takes her hand and places it on the piano.
“How could that be? Annie, you are a prodigy pianist, aren’t you? Didn’t you always want a piano? Dad has brought it for you. From now on, just tell me your wishes, and I’ll make them all come true.”
Annie indifferently withdraws her right hand.
“No need, Mr. Jones. I can earn money to buy a piano myself now. You can take it back to your daughter.”
Colt feels as if he has plunged into icy depths as he pulls Annie into his arms.
“Annie, why are you saying that? You are my only daughter.”
Annie seems somewhat puzzled.
“But didn’t you say that Ms. Brown’s daughter is the one who deserves to be your child? Didn’t you give the piano you promised me to her daughter?”
Annie shrugs and smiles nonchalantly when she mentions it.
“It’s okay, Mr. Jones. If you fancy Ms. Brown, go ahead and take care of her daughter. I have my mom, and that’s enough for me.”
Colt feels a swirl of emotions inside him. No matter how much he anticipates Annie’s reaction, he never expects her to be so resolute.
What he doesn’t know is that Annie and I have given him countless chances, yet he remains indifferent.
During the five years of our marriage, he has had plenty of opportunities to be honest about his identity, to reveal that he is actually the heir of the Jones family.
Yet he stays silent.
Every time Annie expresses her desire to play the piano for him, he feigns poverty and brushes it off.
“Sure, but Dad doesn’t have enough money now. I’m saving up, and I’ll get one for you soon.”
For five years, I’ve taken Annie to the square every day to perform and earn a living.
And for five years, he watches coldly, day in and day out.
Every time we pack up and go home, Annie asks me hopefully.
“Mom, do we have enough money to buy a piano now? I want to play a lullaby for Dad. It’s the first piano piece I learned!”
Each time, I count the money in the bag and shake my head at her.
“We’re still a little short. Save a bit more tomorrow, and we’ll have enough soon.”
Finally, a month before Annie’s birthday, I count the coins in the bag and am delighted to find that we have enough to buy the cheapest piano.
But as I hold Annie’s hand and walk into the music store, I see Colt on the second floor, holding his first love’s daughter while selecting a piano.
I tremble as I point to the piano they are looking at and ask the salesperson.
“How much does that piano cost?”
The salesperson smiles professionally.
“That Steinway piano was ordered by that gentleman a long time ago. It is entirely handcrafted by a German master, and it costs eight million.”
Eight million dollars.
My blood seems to run cold.
People have told me before that Colt is no ordinary man, but our drafty house and the dilapidated furniture tell me exactly the opposite.
I could never have believed that he was actually wealthy.
Now, thinking back, it is impressive for him to have endured living in that shabby house for five years.
Noticing my silence, Annie asks curiously.
“Mom, is Dad a rich man? Is that piano ordered for me?”
Annie is too young to see the relationship between the people on the second floor.
Staring at her faded dress, I try to explain the situation but fail.
Sensing my discomfort, Annie speaks up.
“Mom, it seems Dad has something to say to that madam about. Let’s go home first. We can come here next time.”
Her voice grows quieter, yet her disappointment is hard to hide.
But I don’t notice that, and I leave in a daze, taking Annie with me.
After we get home, I take out his ID card.
I search for the address of his registered residence on the computer.
Brightheart Villa, Halcrest.
Even though it is far away in Rivertown, I’ve heard of this place.
It is an enclave reserved exclusively for the nation’s wealthiest magnates.
One single truth echoes in my mind. “Colt, you have kept this from us for so long.”
I wonder if he feels heartbroken when he watches us go to the park to perform every day, rain or shine.
Or is he mocking us for our futile efforts?
Thinking of this, I give a self-mocking smile and dial the phone number of a divorce lawyer.
After what feels like an eternity, the sound of footsteps approaches from outside the door.
It is Colt, returning home.
As usual, Annie runs to the door, her enthusiasm undimmed as she greets him.
But Colt is as stingy as ever, not even offering Annie a hug.
Normally, Annie has long grown accustomed to her father’s indifference.
But for some reason, she clings to the hem of Colt’s coat today, refusing to let him leave.
“Dad, can you buy me a piano? My classmate’s teacher taught her to play a lullaby. I mastered it after hearing it just once, and I want to play it for you,” she pleads.
“Sure, I’ll buy one when I make enough money.”
Colt brushes her off as usual.
“When will that be?”
Annie presses, unusually persistent today, determined to get a straight answer.
After a long hesitation, Colt finally agrees.
Annie excitedly hugs my leg and cheers.
“Mom, I’m going to have a piano! I’ll play lots and lots of pieces for you and Dad!”
I am happy for Annie and look forward to hearing her performance.
***
But one day turns into two, then a week, and still, there is no sign of the promised piano.
One morning, I see Annie crying secretly under the covers.
Colt sees the same, but he doesn’t even bother to comfort her.
Instead, when he sees me, his eyes brighten.
“You’re just in time. Help me boil some brown sugar water and put it in a thermos. I need to take it with me,” he says.
Brown sugar water.
It must be for Selena Brown.
I suffer from severe menstrual cramps, and he sees it all, yet he never helps.
It feels like a bomb as Colt’s words ignite the last fuse in my heart.
Anger rushes to my head, and I throw my bag at him.
By the time I realize what I have done, tears are already streaming down my face.
Even though Colt is the one who gets hit, I end up crying harder.
My sudden attack has obviously angered him. But my tears seem to have eased his mind.
“If you don’t want to do it, fine. Do you have to make such a fuss?”
“What about the piano you promised Annie?”
His awkward expression tells me that he has forgotten about the whole thing, and he quickly masks with impatience.
“I’ll buy it. Do you have to nag me like this?”
I’ll buy it.
Over the past five years, he has said this countless times.
But while a stone thrown into water can at least make a splash, Colt’s words are nothing but an empty promise.
I storm into Annie’s room and pull her out from under the covers.
“I’m going to divorce your father, and then we’ll go abroad together. Will you join me?”
The idea of going abroad seems too distant for Annie.
But it is our best choice.
The Jones family has too much influence in the country, and only by leaving can Annie’s talent truly flourish.
All my savings are just enough to buy a one-way ticket.
Seeing my red eyes, Annie hugs me and whispers.
“Mom, can we give Dad one more chance?”
“By my birthday, if he still doesn’t remember, we’ll leave.”
“Okay.”
Colt, this is the last chance you’ll ever get from us.
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I’m Tess Powell. When Nathaniel kicked open the cabin door, I was dancing passionately with a male model in a scarlet bikini.
I swayed in the ambiguous music and lighting, like a fire burning recklessly, scorching the eyes of the onlookers.
“My God… This is really something.”
Daniel Robert, usually cheerful and talkative, suddenly stopped in his tracks, his cheeks burning red. He was too shy to look in my direction.
Nathaniel stood beside him.
He was still with that indifferent demeanor, as if he was above the mundane world, but his eyes darkened slightly as they swept over me.
“Tess, are you done?”
He strode forward in a few steps, turned off the noisy music, and threw a thick blanket over me.
But I ignored it, instead laughing and pulling the male model in front of me, nuzzling close to him.
“Don’t mind him… Let’s continue.”
The male model smirked, pulling me closer in a deliberate embrace, his tousled hair brushing against my neck—too intimate for comfort.
But that only lasted barely a second.
Nathaniel had already reached out and yanked me away with such force that I nearly stumbled to the ground.
“Tess!” He finally lost his temper. “Fooling around with male models, do you even remember what day it is today?”
“Of course I do!”
For a heartbeat, I froze. Then my hand flew across his cheek.
The echo hung between us, drowned only by the silent rush of my own tears.
“You don’t own me, Nathaniel. And you sure as hell don’t get to mention my mother!”
My mother had treated Nathaniel as her own—pulling strings, pouring resources into him, all to secure his place as the Wilde heir.
Yet what did he do to repay her? He had fallen in love with the cheater’s daughter!
Among all those people, he had fallen in love with Harriet!
Today was my mother’s funeral, and he was the last person in the world who had the right to lecture me!
Daniel hesitated and stepped forward. “Actually, the funeral today was all arranged by Nat…”
“Tess,” Nathaniel coldly interrupted him.
His face—the one I’d loved for twenty years—betrayed nothing. Those glacial blue eyes fixed on me as he spoke, each word a calculated twist of the knife,
“Or have you forgotten? Your theatrics at the Wilde estate got your mother killed. This is your doing.”
I stopped abruptly.
My swollen eyes were fixed on his face, but something inside me shattered noisily, piercing through me, making it hard to breathe.
Yes, it was because I couldn’t bear the thought of him marrying Harriet.
It was my arrogance. I failed to see that the Wilde family’s power was far above mine now, and Nathaniel was no longer the illegitimate son who used to be bullied and needed my protection.
I was foolish to go to the Wilde family and reveal that ridiculous photo, shouting that Harriet’s mother, Lilith Dorothy, was a shameless mistress.
And in my madness, when Nathaniel scolded me, I revealed the fact that his mother had also risen from being a maid.
So the royal Mr. Wilde was truly enraged.
He suppressed the news and had me expelled from the Wilde family.
To make me pay, he retaliated by cropping his face out of the original photo and releasing only my wanton appearance to the public.
The entire city was free to scrutinize my demeanor in bed.
Even my infatuation with Nathaniel over the past twenty years had become a joke.
“Look, the lady of the Powell family is a promiscuous slut.”
“Her mother couldn’t compete with Harriet’s mother, and neither could she with Harriet in Nathaniel’s eyes.”
Everyone said so.
That was why my mother, always proud and radiant, resolutely leaped from the villa in front of me, landing in a pool of blood.
Before she died, my mother, tormented by depression, had a moment of clarity.
She took my hand, her gaze clear yet sorrowful.
“Tess, the way you chase after Nathaniel is just like how I pursued your father back then. We chase so hard that we lose sight of ourselves. It will cost our lives.”
“Find more men. You’ll see that love is nothing special.”
So on the day of my mother’s funeral, I skipped it and instead hired a boatload of male models on a cruise.
It was finally my turn to say to Nathaniel, “So what?”
I smiled brightly, but my nails dug into my palms.
“We’re just childhood friends. You’re crossing the line here, buddy. Don’t you think?”
Nathaniel’s gaze locked onto me with terrifying focus.
After a brief pause, he said indifferently,
“Harriet is waiting for you.”
At the sound of the name, something inside me fractured audibly, like glass giving way under pressure.
I thought I had let go.
After twenty years of entangled love and hate, he easily defeated me with one name.
“Good for you, Nathaniel.”
I muttered softly.
No one knew how to hurt you more than a childhood friend.
He ordered someone to drag me into the car.
Before I left, I saw the male model’s light-colored eyes.
Daniel whispered in my ear, “I know you’re upset. But today is your mom’s funeral. You should be there.”
He glanced at Nathaniel, who was dozing off across from us, and hesitated to continue.
“Don’t be angry. Nathaniel has been hosting the funeral. He still…”
His words trailed off.
I got it.
Did he still care about me? Or was he still grateful for my mother’s protection in the past?
Neither seemed to hold up.
The moment my mother jumped, whatever had been between us twisted into a noose.
With my back against the seat, I traced the slow, gentle arc of the small clay pendant in the rearview mirror, swaying to the car’s unhurried motion.
***
Daniel, Nathaniel, and I had been friends since kindergarten.
But Nathaniel had always kept only photos of him and me, and the passenger seat was always reserved for me.
I had mistaken that tiny sense of “specialness” for favoritism and chased after him like a moth to a flame.
But now, the photos of us together had been replaced by a pendant made by Harriet, and the passenger seat was piled with a pink blanket that didn’t fit there.
Harriet’s traces were everywhere.
Hosting the funeral?
I sneered, feeling the bitterness spreading in my throat.
It was probably just to impress Marcus Powell, my father, and Harriet’s stepfather, so he could marry Harriet sooner.
When the car arrived at Powell Manor, I got out without hesitation.
My mother’s funeral had just ended, yet the living room had already been completely transformed.
Even the family portrait of the three of us had been replaced with a wedding photo of Marcus and the maid.
My mother hadn’t rested in peace yet, and he was already eager to bring a second wife into the house.
“Tess, you brat, where have you been all day?”
“Skipping your own mother’s funeral? Do you still have any regard for this family?”
Marcus slammed his hand on the table in anger as soon as he saw me, his face flushed with rage.
Beside him, the maid, now dressed as a wealthy lady, Lilith, soothingly spoke in a gentle tone, though a flicker of contempt flashed in her eyes.
“Marcus, Tess is just too heartbroken to face the funeral.”
“She’s still young. Don’t be so angry.”
“Indeed, Mr. Powell. Ms. Powell must be very upset,” Harriet said, standing demurely beside them in a white dress.
Marcus sat back under Lilith’s influence and snorted coldly, “If she were half as sensible as Harriet, her mother wouldn’t have died of anger!”
I looked up sharply at this family of three, their clumsy act, and suddenly laughed.
“Stop pretending! If you hadn’t sunk to sleeping together without shame, my mother wouldn’t have been overwhelmed by depression and ended her life!”
“Tess Powell!” Marcus warned sternly.
Lilith’s face turned pale. “It’s my fault. I failed the madam, but Marcus and I are truly…”
Before she could finish, I lunged forward, grabbed her hair, and, in a scream, slammed her down in front of my mother’s portrait.
“My mother only took you in because you had nowhere to go! But you repaid her by screwing with my dad?”
“You know what? If you really feel so sorry, why don’t you just end your life as well?”
Marcus roared at me to let go.
Harriet also threw herself at me, crying while pulling at me.
“Ms. Powell, let go. Mrs. Powell only died because you pissed her off. You can’t blame my mom for that.”
Before she could finish, I picked up the riding crop beside me and lashed it directly across her mouth. She was so good at distorting the truth.
“How dare you hit me! Nate will never let you go!”
Harriet screamed, covering her mouth, her eyes venomous.
I laughed unrestrainedly. “Not pretending now?”
“You look better this way, you know?”
“You witch, are you trying to give me a heart attack?” Marcus clutched his chest in fury as the servants rushed forward anxiously.
“What good does your madness do? Your mom is gone, and it’s all your fault! No one in this family welcomes you!”
Harriet shouted shrilly, her eyes red.
I raised the whip again, but my arm was fiercely grabbed, the grip so tight it almost crushed my bones.
“Tess! How dare you hurt her!”
Nathaniel stood behind me, his eyes blazing with rage.
I didn’t budge, but my hand, holding the whip, trembled for a moment. “Didn’t you hear what she said? Doesn’t she deserve it?”
“I heard it.” Nathaniel let go of my hand, his voice calm.
“So what?”
My heart skipped a beat, and threads of pain slowly exploded.
I stared at Nathaniel, dumbfounded.
He knew!
He had always known that Harriet was two-faced, that she coveted my place in the Powell family, and that I was struggling under this roof.
Yet he still chose to stand by her.
“Nate!” Harriet cried, throwing herself into his arms. “She hit my mom and whipped me like this!”
Nathaniel held her, his voice as cold as ice, his gaze on me.
“Is that so? Then I’ll whip her a hundred times to make her atone for you. How do you like that?”
“Nathaniel, don’t you dare!”
I glared at him, my eyes red.
Nathaniel held my gaze with quiet calm, his stare fixed on me briefly before he motioned for his bodyguard to force me to the ground.
In front of Marcus, Lilith, and Harriet, he mercilessly whipped me until I was covered in blood.
As pain consumed me and blood poured from my mouth, I heard unmistakably the sound of my heart caving in within.
Twenty years of affection and the last bit of care.
All shattered into dust at that moment.
I lost count of how many lashes I endured before I finally fainted in desperation.
In a daze, I sank into a familiar embrace, the faint scent of iris from Nathaniel wrapping gently around me.
“Tess! Call the doctor!”
I had rarely heard him shout so frantically.
Pity it only happened after he had me beaten till I coughed blood.
Yet, it was after he ordered me to be beaten until I coughed up blood.
Summoning my final strength, I wrenched myself from his arms, preferring the hard ground to his embrace.
“Nathaniel, you’re fucking disgusting.”
Ignoring my words, Nathaniel still rushed me to the hospital overnight for proper treatment.
But the next day, the company I had secretly established was reported, and every file was sent straight to Marcus.
Overnight, the alliances I’d painstakingly forged collapsed and turned on me.
Even the photos of the male models I had summoned on the day of the funeral were spread around indiscriminately.
It was obvious these actions were intended to ruin me completely. Marcus even publicly declared that he wanted to cut ties with me.
Out of choice, I had to humble myself and seek help through intermediaries.
I, once the pampered Ms. Powell, still bearing whip wounds, now humbly begged for help from the second-gen followers who used to follow in my shadow.
“Tess, it’s not that we don’t want to help.”
Bart Nell, said with a troubled expression, but his gaze lingered on my pallor and the fresh wounds on my neck.
“It’s just that you’ve offended Nathaniel… None of us can afford the price.”
He handed me a glass of amber liquor, his eyes gleaming with a familiar predatory desire.
“But if you’re willing to join us for a drink and a gathering tonight… we may give it a second thought.”
I knew all too well what “join us for a drink and a gathering” meant.
A quid pro quo of power and sex, the most popular and dirtiest trick in the circle.
Once an indifferent bystander, I had become the one on the chopping block.
I had no way to escape.
“Bart, I didn’t ask you here to do this to her!”
Daniel’s face twisted with anger as he tried to intervene, but he was overpowered by Bart, whose family background outranked his.
“You can’t expect us to take risks and help without her showing any sincerity,” someone sneered, shooting me a menacing look that sent chills down my spine.
“Besides, everyone knows Tess’s wild side. She’s got a whole crew of male models. A few more of us won’t hurt.”
They closed in, step by step, like predators after a power shift, holding their wine glasses.
Humiliation drained the color from my face, and a sour, salty bitterness climbed my throat, threatening to suffocate me.
“Quite the party, isn’t it?”
Nathaniel’s voice suddenly rang in my ear. “Shame I wasn’t invited.”
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I fly home early to surprise my parents, and there’s some random woman in our house.
She’s wearing my pajamas and my mom’s jewelry, and she’s screaming in my face. “Did you even clean yourself before coming in? I’m pregnant with the Winchester heir, the richest family’s grandson, and trash like you doesn’t get to come near me!”
“Butler! Get the disinfectant and spray down this girl and whatever cheap food she brought!”
I stare at this complete stranger, and it takes me a solid minute to even get words out. “This is Alaric Winchester’s house, right? I’m in the right place?”
Her eyes go huge, and she slaps me across the face. “Another gold digger who tracked down my husband to seduce him! Throw her out right now!”
They literally throw me onto the street. I sit there for a second, then I pull out my phone and call my mom, Lily Winchester.
“Mom, get home now. Dad’s cheating on you. He didn’t just have a kid, he’s about to have a grandkid too.”
***
I hang up and walk straight back into the villa. I grab the woman by her hair and kick her out the front door while she’s screaming and trying to fight back.
“You keep saying you’re pregnant with the Winchester heir? Let me tell you something right now. The richest man in this city doesn’t have a son. He has one kid. Me. Nicole Winchester. His daughter!”
She doesn’t believe me at all and tries to slap me again while she’s screaming, “Everyone knows the Winchesters are the perfect couple! They announced they’re leaving everything to their kid, and Mr. Winchester even got a vasectomy to prove he’s a devoted father!”
“No normal person would do all that for some worthless daughter! The Winchester heir is a son, and that’s my husband!”
I roll my eyes and look at her. “Fine. Call your husband right now and we’ll see who’s right. I want to know who had the nerve to steal my position!”
She pulls out her phone looking all smug and confident, but then she stops. Her eyes narrow, and she looks me up and down before she starts smirking. “Wow, home-wreckers are really getting creative these days.”
That catches me off guard, and I freeze up. She sees my reaction and nods to herself, looking even more sure of herself now.
“You’re just some slut Cyrus picked up, and now that you heard I’m pregnant, you’re deliberately causing a scene to drive us apart so you can steal my place!”
She’s so ridiculous it almost makes me laugh. “I already told you. I’m Alaric’s daughter, Nicole. The Winchester family never had a son.”
“If you don’t believe me, go upstairs to the sunroom on the second floor. That’s my room. There’s a hidden compartment in the walk-in closet, and the password is my birthday, 1011. Inside there are photo albums from when I was growing up.”
“And if that’s still not enough proof, call all the staff out here and ask them whether they recognize me, the real heiress, or you, the idiot who got conned into a fake marriage!”
The woman looks rattled for a second, but she recovers fast. “Cyrus and I had an engagement party with both our parents there as witnesses, and we’re getting married today!”
“At the engagement, Cyrus’s father, Alaric, personally gave me a black card loaded with eight million dollars. How could any of this be wrong! Everyone, come out here! Does anyone recognize this girl?”
My heart sinks when she says that, and it confirms what I suspected from the start. If these people aren’t the problem, then the problem has to be my dear father, Alaric.
The household staff rush out when they hear the noise, and after looking at me closely, they all shake their heads. “Sorry, Mrs. Winchester. We’ve never seen her before.”
I look at each of them one by one, and my blood runs cold. All the staff who raised me are gone. These people are complete strangers. Replacing an entire household—only one person had that kind of authority.
When the staff confirm they don’t recognize me, the woman straightens, looking smug and triumphant. “Since no one here knows you, you’re guilty of breaking and entering—and slander on top of that! Get her! Teach this bitch a lesson!”
People immediately rush at me, and punches and kicks start coming from every direction. I can’t fight them all off, and they beat me until blood’s streaming down my face.
Right then, the front door swings open, and a panicked voice calls out. “The butler said some criminal showed up causing trouble. Emma, are you okay?”
I look hard at whoever just walked in, but no matter how much I rack my brain, I don’t recognize him at all.
Cyrus Winchester sees me covered in blood, and his voice turns angry. “You’ve got some serious nerve!”
“I’m Alaric Winchester’s only child, and you just attacked my wife and our unborn baby. You’re going to pay for this!” He ranted furiously, looking as if he wanted to tear me apart on the spot.
I, on the other hand, stay composed and speak coldly. “You say you’re the Winchester heir. Where’s your proof? This is my home. You broke in and openly impersonated me. I want to know—Where do you get the nerve?”
Cyrus stares at me like I just slapped him, then he starts laughing like he can’t believe what he’s hearing.
“Are you insane? You’re saying you’re the Winchester daughter? Everyone knows Alaric Winchester made a vow the day his child was born to give all his love to that one kid. Who would leave billions to a daughter? That’s ridiculous.”
“You’re not here to claim you’re family. You heard my wife is pregnant, and you’re trying to get my attention. Well, let me tell you something right now. My wife is having a boy, and nobody’s taking her place!”
Emma looks so touched and cuddles up to Cyrus. “Baby, you’re so good to me.”
Looking at this shameless couple, rage burns through me. “I already told you. I’m the only Winchester heir.”
Cyrus loses it and pushes Emma aside, then he slaps me across the face. “My dad is a public figure, and he kept me out of the spotlight all these years to protect me, not to give some crazy person like you the chance to steal my identity!”
“I’m calling my dad right now, and we’ll find out if he had a son or a daughter!” He pulls out his phone right in front of me and puts it on speaker.
I see that familiar number, and my heart sinks. A second later, I hear Alaric’s voice coming through the phone.
“Hey there, son. Dad’s at the venue setting up for your wedding. What’s going on? Is something wrong?”
Cyrus gives me a smug look. “Dad, nothing serious. I just wanted to ask you something. Do I have any brothers or sisters?”
On the other end, Alaric sounds amused. “What are you thinking about, kiddo? I got a vasectomy for you. How could I possibly have another child? When I’m gone, everything I built will be yours. Don’t worry about it.”
The rage inside me hits its breaking point, and I blurt out Alaric’s name. But Cyrus already hung up, and he slaps me again. “I get it now. You’re not after me, you’re after my dad!”
“My parents have been happily married for over 20 years, and some home-wrecker like you isn’t going to ruin that. Someone, grab her! This trash is spreading lies and slandering my family. Rip out her tongue!”
I’m not stupid enough to stick around for that, so I turn and run, but Emma grabs my hair from behind.
People rush at me from all sides. Someone slaps my face hard and grabs my throat, forcing my mouth open, and they’re actually going to cut out my tongue!
I try to push them away but someone kicks me in the stomach over and over. “You bitch, you messed with Mr. Winchester’s only heir, and now you’re going to hell!”
Tears sprang to my eyes as someone clamped down on my tongue, sending a sharp, searing pain through my mouth.
Blood rushes down my throat and chokes me. Right when I’m about to suffocate, the doorbell rings. It has to be Mom coming to save me after I called her!
I use every bit of strength I have left and shove the servants off me, then I run for the door.
Cyrus’s face changes. “Everyone should be at the wedding venue waiting right now. Who would show up here?”
My tongue is split open and bleeding but I glare at both of them. “The person who’s going to end you!”
I yank the door open, but when I see who it is, my heart sinks. The man at the door looks shocked when he sees blood all over my face. He sounds uncertain when he speaks. “Miss Nicole, what happened to you?”
My tongue hurts so badly I can barely talk, so I just grab his arm and look at the people inside. “You don’t know me, but you should know the Winchester family’s former butler!” I turn to him and try to get the words out. “Brian, tell them who I am!”
By the time I finish that sentence, tears are streaming down my face from the pain.
Cyrus rolls his eyes and walks over with his arms crossed, looking at the former butler, Brian Phillips. “So Brian, you know this person?”
Brian looks at me, then at the wedding photo hanging in the middle of the living room, and suddenly, he laughs. “Nope. Who is she?”
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For thirty years, I lived as Felix’s widow.
Felix Haywood was a renowned surgeon at Military General Hospital, a mentor to many students before his death.
Everyone pitied me, saying I had lost a child to miscarriage, ruined my health, and lost my lover.
I believed in these words…
Until I sorted through his belongings and found a forged infant death certificate in his safe.
His diary was filled with entries about how the Brooks family had once saved his entire family, how Irene Brooks could never have children because of him, and how he owed her he could only repay by stealing my son.
I should have been a mother enjoying a happy family life, but I was trapped in my husband’s lie for thirty years!
My heart felt crushed, and I fainted.
When I opened my eyes, the young, grief-stricken face of Felix appeared before me.
“Grace, don’t be sad. Our baby… is gone.”
I, Grace Archer, was sent back in time.
Back to the day he stole my son.
I looked at Felix.
He held my hand, his eyes red and teary.
“Grace, the doctors did everything they could.”
I remained silent.
Then I heard a baby’s cries and a woman’s laughter coming from the next room.
That woman was Irene Brooks.
That baby was my son.
My mother-in-law, Clara Reed, came in with a bowl of soup.
“Grace, drink this. Your health is what matters most now.”
She set the bowl on the bedside table.
“We owe you so much.”
I gave a bitter smile and said nothing.
Tears slid down from the corners of my eyes.
Felix reached over, wiping them away with his thumb.
“Don’t cry. We’re still young. We’ll have another child later.”
I closed my eyes.
In my past life, I believed him.
So I took mountains of medicine and endured countless treatments, all to conceive another child for him.
Until his death, I never succeeded.
Everyone said I was pitiful because I lost both my child and my husband.
But no one knew my child had been alive all along.
Right next door, less than ten meters away from me, he was there.
Held by another woman, calling Irene Mom.
The ward door was pushed open.
Irene walked in with a swaddled baby in her arms, followed by her parents.
“Felix, Clara.” Her voice was soft.
She looked at me, and her eyes were filled with sympathy.
“Grace, are you all right? I heard…”
The baby in her arms moved, letting out a slight sound.
My gaze fell on the baby.
He was my son.
Clara immediately walked over and took the baby.
“Little one, already awake?”
Holding him, she wore a smile I had never seen before.
Felix also stood up and approached Irene. “Why did you come? You also need to rest.”
“I just want to see Grace,” Irene said while touching her abdomen, “I can never have another child. Seeing Grace like this… it breaks my heart.”
Tears fell as she spoke.
Irene’s father, a high-ranking officer, patted Felix’s shoulder.
“Felix, this child is now your responsibility.”
“I will take good care of him,” Felix nodded.
I watched them.
They were all acting.
And I was the fool kept in the dark.
On the day I was discharged from the hospital, Felix took me home.
The house was very quiet.
The prepared nursery was completely empty—no cradle, no crib, not even wall decals.
Felix hugged me from behind. “I was afraid they’d make you sad, so I put everything away.”
My whole body stiffened.
“Grace, forget this. Let’s start over, okay?”
I didn’t answer him.
Walking into that empty room, I stood there for a long time.
Three days later, Clara brought the baby home from Irene’s house.
“Felix, Irene can’t handle it alone, and the baby is often sick. Let’s raise him here.”
Felix didn’t object.
The baby was placed in the guest room, far from our bedroom.
Irene came over too, claiming she would help care for him.
From then on, this house belonged to two women.
One was me. The other was Irene.
The baby was named Alistair Haywood, chosen by Irene.
She said she hoped he would remember his late father and grow up safely.
How absurd.
They hoped my son would remember a father who never existed.
Alistair often cried at night.
The nanny couldn’t soothe him. Neither could Clara.
His cries reached my room.
Lying in bed, I pulled the quilt over my head. Waves of heartache washed over me.
Felix got up. “I’ll go check on him.”
He was gone for a long time.
When he returned, he carried the scent of milk.
“Asleep?” I asked.
“Yes. Irene is soothing him.”
I opened my eyes, staring at the ceiling. “Felix, I want to see him.”
“Why would you want to see him? Don’t you know better?” Clara’s voice suddenly came from the door.
She hadn’t knocked.
“Mom?” Felix frowned.
“I’m telling the truth! She just lost one, and now she wants to see Alistair? What’s she up to?”
Clara walked in and stood by my bed.
“Grace, let me be clear. Alistair is Irene’s child. He’s not yours, so don’t think you have any claim over him!”
I looked at her. “I just want to see him.”
“No way!” Her voice turned shrill. “You’ll bring misfortune to him! We can’t afford another tragedy!”
I said nothing more.
That night, I didn’t sleep at all.
The next day, while they were all out, I slipped into the guest room.
Alistair was sleeping in the cradle.
I walked over and bent down.
This was the first time I was so close to my son.
He was tiny, and his face was still crumpled.
I touched his cheek softly.
He didn’t wake up, just smacked his lips slightly.
On the back of his neck, I saw a small red birthmark.
Exactly like mine.
Tears welled up instantly.
I gently picked him up.
He moved in my arms, finding a comfortable position to continue sleeping.
Holding him, I sat on the carpet, motionless.
I didn’t know how much time passed before the door opened.
Irene entered and saw the baby in my arms. Her expression changed.
“Grace! What are you doing!”
She rushed over and snatched the baby from me.
“Don’t touch him!”
The baby was startled awake and burst into tears.
“You made him cry!” Irene held him close, anxious and angry.
Felix and Clara hurried in upon hearing the noise.
Seeing the scene, Clara shoved me hard.
“I knew you were up to no good! What did you want to do to my grandson?”
She blurted out.
After saying that, she froze.
Felix’s face darkened. “Mom!”
“I… I misspoke!” She said hurriedly, “I meant… Alistair is the child of Felix’s comrade, so he’s like my grandson!”
I stood up from the floor and then looked at Felix.
“I wanted to hold him. Is that wrong?”
“Grace, you’re not well,” Felix said, “Alistair is still young and gets sick easily.”
“Yes, Grace.” Irene took a step back, holding the baby closer. “Alistair has a weak immune system. The doctor said we must be very careful.”
I looked at the three of them.
They were like three walls, separating me from my son.
“I am the rightful woman of this house,” I said.
Irene’s face turned pale.
Clara pointed a finger at me. “You? You are just a woman who can’t keep a child!”
“Mom!” Felix’s voice turned sharp.
He walked over and gripped my wrist. “Grace, go rest in our room.”
His grip was strong. I couldn’t break free.
Dragged back to the bedroom, I saw him close the door.
Then I heard him say to his mother and Irene, “Don’t let her go into that room again.”
From that day on, I was never allowed to be near Alistair again.
Irene and Clara kept a close watch on me.
When there were guests at home, Irene would carry Alistair out, introducing him to everyone.
“This is my son, Alistair Haywood.”
Everyone praised her for her kindness and greatness.
Felix stood beside her, looking at her with an emotion I couldn’t understand.
It was guilt, and it was also compensation.
I began to suffer from insomnia, lying awake night after night.
My body wasted away rapidly.
Felix took me to see a psychiatrist.
The psychiatrist asked me a few questions, then told Felix, “It’s postpartum depression, with mild delusions. She believes the baby is hers?”
“Yes,” Felix nodded.
“Classic symptoms. She needs medication and psychological counseling.”
I looked at Felix.
There was no trace of emotion on his face.
He took the prescribed medication home and supervised me to take the pills every day.
I hid the pills under my tongue, and then spat them out after he left.
Because I knew I didn’t have delusions.
I was simply a mother wanting to reclaim her baby.
Therefore, I began looking for an opportunity to get Alistair’s hair for a paternity test.
That was the only evidence.
An opportunity came a month later.
At Alistair’s hundred-day celebration, the house was full of guests.
Everyone surrounded Irene, Alistair, and Felix.
They looked like a happy family.
I moved silently through the crowd. When Irene went to change clothes, I picked up Alistair.
He had grown a bit, and his features looked like mine.
In my arms, he was calm, not crying or fussing.
I carried him to a corner and carefully plucked a hair from his head.
Then I wrapped the hair in a tissue and put it in my pocket.
After doing it, I felt all my strength drained away.
As I put Alistair back in the cradle and turned to leave, I met Felix’s eyes.
He had stood behind me without my noticing.
His gaze was icy. “What were you doing?”
“I…”
Without waiting for my explanation, he reached into my pocket.
He took out the tissue and then unfolded it.
When he saw the hair, his face darkened instantly.
With no words, he dragged me upstairs to the study.
After shoving me inside, he locked the door.
“Grace, what do you want to do?”
“I want to do a paternity test,” I said, staring at him, “He is my son.”
“You’re insane!” He growled, “Have you forgotten what the doctor said? You have delusions!”
“I am not insane!” I shouted back, “Felix, look me in my eyes! Do you dare say he is not my son?”
He avoided my gaze. “Stop being unreasonable.”
“Being unreasonable?” I laughed, and tears streamed down my face. “You stole my son, and now you say I’m insane! Felix, how could you do this to me?”
He fell silent.
After a long silence, he spoke with a hoarse voice. “Grace, the Brooks family did me a great favor.”
“What favor?”
“Saving my life,” he said, “Years ago, if it weren’t for Mr. Brooks, my whole family would have been ruined. Irene can’t have children because of me. I owe her.”
“So you repaid her with my son?”
He didn’t say a word—his silence said it all.
Looking at him, I felt a deep chill. “I will apply for a paternity test tomorrow.”
“You dare!”
He stepped forward and snatched the tissue from my hand.
Right before my eyes, he tore the hair and the tissue into pieces.
The pieces fell through his fingers.
Like my shattered heart.
“Grace,” he stared at me, enunciating each word, “Behave yourself. My patience is limited.”
I looked at him, the man I had loved for ten years.
For him, I had given up my studies and become a dutiful wife.
In that moment, I finally understood.
He didn’t love me.
He only needed an obedient wife.
A tool for his mission of repayment.
At that moment, the last bit of hope I had for him vanished.
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I didn’t expect to get the call from my son’s teacher while I was picking a tenth-anniversary gift for my husband.
It seemed like Rob had gotten into a fight with a classmate over an essay.
I rushed to the school and picked him up. It broke my heart to see his little face puffed up with frustration.
Once we were home, I soothed him on the couch, and he showed me what he wrote.
The title read, “My Real and Fake Mom.”
His handwriting was crooked and uneven.
“The fake mom takes care of me and Dad. She’s like a free housekeeper.”
“The real mom works far away, but she’s the one who truly loves me and Dad.”
I couldn’t continue the reading, as my fingers failed to turn the page.
William Jones, my dear husband, had just stepped out of the bathroom. He was wrapped in a towel like usual and hugged me from behind.
“What did he write?” He asked.
And the next second, his smile froze awkwardly when he saw the words.
His voice also tightened as he reached for the notebook.
“You won’t take a kid’s words seriously, will you? The teacher’s just overreacting.”
I didn’t let go. I turned my head and looked at the man I had loved for ten years. Suddenly, he seemed completely unfamiliar to me.
I could hear Rob watching his cartoons in the living room.
If I was the “fake mom” in his essay…
Then who was the real one?
And if Rob was not the one I gave birth to… Then where had my real child been for all these years?
***
“Jennifer, what are you staring at?”
William waved his hand in front of my face, his tone went casual again.
“It’s our tenth wedding anniversary today. So, what’s for this year?”
His look was soft and easy, and I’d rather not have noticed how skillfully he steered the conversation.
I stayed silent for a long moment before taking the small box out from my bag and giving it to him.
He opened it with delight—a limited-edition watch he had been eyeing for months.
“This is beautiful! You’ve got great taste, honey!”
He pulled me close and kissed my cheek.
“Will you help me?” He stretched out his arm.
I reached out and fastened the watch onto his wrist.
Ten years of marriage. I had never forgotten preparing gifts for him on special days.
And yet, he rarely did the same for me.
I found excuses for him that he wasn’t expressive in nature.
But then there was Rob’s essay.
“Dad loves giving gifts to the real mom the most because, he says, the process of preparing a gift is more meaningful than the gift itself.”
The innocent words stabbed straight into my heart like a knife, cutting my flesh into pieces.
So it wasn’t that he couldn’t express himself…
It was that all his care had never been for me.
“William…”
I struggled to speak, choosing my words carefully.
“Is there anything you want to tell me?”
He paused and turned away, retorting with irritation.
“Jennifer, what are you suggesting? Rob is only six, he doesn’t even know what he’s saying himself.”
I wanted to say more, but he had already turned back toward the bedroom.
For the first time in ten years, his indifferent look finally made me realize we had never truly been close to each other.
Late at night, he slept soundly beside me.
But the words in that essay, William’s awkward smile… All those images just kept replaying in my mind and taking away my sleep.
I rose quietly and stepped out of the bedroom.
I saw light at the end of the hallway, turned out the door to William’s study was slightly ajar.
He hated it when I went in uninvited, and I respected that for all the time.
But tonight… something compelled me to open the door.
I searched every corner, hoping for a clue, but found nothing.
And my eyes eventually landed on the photo that was placed in the center of his desk.
It was three of us, a happy family that everyone envies.
William held Rob on his shoulders, and I leaned on his side, smiling as if I got everything I wanted for life.
Love seemed to have truly existed, and no one would doubt it.
I ran my fingers over the faces of my husband and kid.
Maybe I was overthinking…
Maybe I should not let a six-year-old’s words shake my trust in the man that I had shared ten years with.
Guilt and self-reproach flooded me.
I sighed and was about to set the frame back in place…
Somehow I noticed that the frame’s base was slightly loose, so I reached out but the whole frame just slipped away from my fingers.
Crash!
The frame fell to the floor.
I wanted to pick it up, but I just froze mid-motion.
As I found out the back of the frame was not some sort of blank board, but a photo.
In the picture, William was standing in the sunlight, his face young and enchanting. In his arms, it was a girl in a white dress.
I held my breath but my body was still trembling. I couldn’t remember how I managed to turn the photo over.
And it took me no effort to recognize Williams’s handwriting at a glance:
“Dear Sarah. My dearest Sarah Anderson. No matter who I marry, my heart will always belong to you.”
How pathetic, what stung my eyes the most was actually the date he left in the corner. This was written on the very day before our wedding.
The next morning, after dropping Rob off at school, I didn’t head to the office like I usually did.
Instead, I drove to the nearest mobile service hall.
I tried so hard to keep my voice as steady as possible when talking to the clerk.
“Hi, could you help me check my family phone bills over the past few months? The charges seem a bit odd.”
He worked quickly and soon pulled up the call records from the last six months.
One number immediately stood out.
It appeared far too often and was always coming in from a neighboring town.
Most of the calls were made late at night, lasting anywhere from ten minutes to over an hour.
I wrote down the number quietly and left.
That evening, William left his phone charging on the nightstand and went to shower.
The screen was locked, so I entered the password we used to share.
Incorrect.
Then I tried his birthday. Our anniversary. A series of numbers tied to memories only we were supposed to know.
Every attempt failed.
And I couldn’t tell how ironic it was when I laid my last hope on the eye-watering date written on the back of that photo.
Access granted.
My heart sank.
I searched through his call history. The number wasn’t saved in his contacts. Instead, I found it on his blocked list.
A blocked number… with such frequent call records?
There was only one explanation.
He would block the number from time to time after they contacted each other.
A chill crept up my spine.
I went through his social media, looking for more traces.
When I entered the number into the search bar, an account popped up.
I finally got it.
In the picture over the top, I saw three figures at sunset. A couple with a kid, holding each other’s hands so tightly. And the man’s silhouette looked hauntingly familiar.
Too familiar that I could straightforwardly call his name.
I put the phone back and called my assistant, Susan.
“Susan,” I said softly, “help me investigate a number. As fast as you can.”
***
After hanging up, I walked silently into Rob’s room.
He was sleeping soundly.
William used to say our son looked just like me. But now, as I studied him carefully—his eyes, his nose—I couldn’t find a single feature that resembled mine.
The pain dug deeper and deeper, never giving me a moment’s relief.
A few days later, the school scheduled a full physical checkup for the students. I went to the hospital with Rob myself.
After all the examinations were done, I plucked a few strands of his hair and sealed them carefully in a plastic bag.
That afternoon, I sent the sample, along with my own, to a testing agency.
The results would not be back until a week later, and all I could do was anxiously wait while enduring William’s more and more frequent late returns, which he claimed were made to see friends.
Before leaving, he’d linger in front of the mirror, fixing his hair with excessive care.
One night, after he left, I followed him.
My car trailed his across half the city until he finally stopped at a hot spring resort on the outskirts.
As William stepped out of the car, a woman in a long dress was already waiting for him.
I recognized her instantly.
She was the woman from the photo.
William took her handbag as if he had done it a thousand times before, and his arm wrapped around her waist with practiced ease. He leaned down and whispered something into her ear.
Her face flushed instantly, red all the way to her ears.
After a few more murmured words, the two pressed close to each other and walked into the resort together.
I stayed in my car.
The heater was on full blast, yet I felt cold to the bone.
Just then, my phone buzzed.
An email—from the testing agency.
My hands shook so badly that I could barely hold the phone. I opened the attachment and flipped straight to the last page.
“Based on DNA testing, Jennifer Jones is excluded as the biological mother of Rob Jones.”
Before this, I had never imagined a short sentence to be a blade dipped in poison. And at that moment, I could clearly feel how it sliced and tortured me again and again as my eyes fixed on the page.
The child I had raised for six years, loved with every fiber of my being… had no blood relation to me at all.
And then I could see the woman’s face overlapped with Rob’s features.
The resemblance was terrifying, so strong it made my stomach churn.
But I remembered clearly—six years ago, I had specifically arranged a DNA test after Rob’s birth because the maternity hospital had gone through some chaotic situations, and he was protected by tight security.
The results had been clear. The baby was ours.
So why… Six years later, my son had become someone else’s child?
And the baby I carried for ten months, the one I gave birth to… Where was he then?
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The day I go to have my wedding dress altered, a woman I’ve never seen before bursts into the private fitting room and stabs me in the stomach.
“You think you deserve to wear a dress like this? A homewrecker like you?” She tears at my skirt with one hand, and her smile turns vicious as she throws acid at me with the other.
The blade’s already buried deep in my abdomen. The pain drops me straight to my knees, but she grabs my hair and yanks my head up, forcing me to look at her. “Kieran Fairfax is my husband. Who the hell do you think you are? Just some mistress who can’t even show her face in public!”
Blood drips down my fingers. That’s when it finally hits me.
The man I’ve loved for seven years has been keeping another woman on the side.
“What’re you staring at? Even if I kill you right here, my husband’s powerful enough that nobody’s gonna do a damn thing to me.” She’s still sneering at me, so confident and smug, but I pull out my phone with blood-slicked fingers and call my brother, Lucian Hartwell.
“Luke.” My voice comes out eerily calm. “Come pick me up, and tell the Fairfax family this marriage is over.”
***
The moment I hang up, the $10,000 wedding dress starts dissolving where the acid hit it.
My exposed skin burns like fire where the sulfuric acid splashed, and the acrid stench of chemical burns mixes with blood as fluid seeps from the corroding wounds.
I glare at the woman in front of me with so much rage I could tear her apart right then and there, but the crowd that’s gathered after my phone call just bursts into laughter instead.
“Oh my God, she said she was Mrs. Fairfax. That woman’s so screwed!”
Sophia points right in my face, her voice dripping with contempt. “You bitch! Still trying to act tough? You think one phone call’s gonna save you?”
“The Hartwells? Who? Never heard of them! I’m calling the cops right now. They’ll throw your ass in jail for stealing that dress!”
I press my hand against the festering wounds, and hot blood just keeps pouring between my fingers and pooling on the floor beneath me. The rapid blood loss makes my vision blur and fade, then blur again.
I glance at Sophia’s bodyguards standing behind her and realize I should’ve brought my own security today.
I look around desperately for help, but everyone just stands there watching and whispering to each other with mockery written all over their faces. No one steps forward.
I force myself through the agony and lift my eyes to meet Sophia’s. My eyes burn with murderous intent. “I don’t know who you think you are, but listen up. I’m a Hartwell. The Hartwells of Southcrest City. Get out now, while I’m still letting you walk away alive.”
My stare must piss her off because Sophia kicks me hard right in the stomach. “The Hartwells? Who gives a shit! You think I’m scared of you? Let me tell you something.”
“I’m Sophia Martinez, Kieran Fairfax’s wife, the CEO of Fairfax Group! Who the hell are you to talk to me like that?”
The kick tears the stab wound wide open, and blood mixed with pus keeps pouring out. But right now, I barely even feel the pain. Her words just keep playing in my head over and over. She’s Kieran’s wife? Then what the hell am I?
I watch her smug face and let out a bitter laugh. Now I finally get it. Kieran cheated on me. The man our families chose for me when we were kids, the man I’ve been with for seven years, has been keeping another woman this whole time.
I know this isn’t the time to deal with it, so I push down the rage and say coldly, “Sophia, right? Get me to a hospital now and tell Kieran to get his ass over there.”
I see the shock on Sophia’s face and glare right at her.
“If something happens to me today, you’re the first person he’s gonna kill. And Kieran’s going down right after you.”
The second I finish talking, Sophia bursts out laughing and yanks me up by my hair. “Who the hell do you think you are? Got some nerve ordering my husband around!”
She keeps slamming my head against the floor. “Even if I kill you right here, the Fairfax family’s loaded! We can pay for whatever!”
My head’s ringing so bad I can barely think straight, and everything’s going red and blurry. She digs her sharp heel into the wound in my stomach and twists it. The pain and hopelessness just keep washing over me.
Then I hear tires screeching outside. I see that familiar black Maybach pull up in front of the bridal shop, and something in my chest finally loosens.
I look straight at Sophia and laugh. “I already told you. I’m a Hartwell. From Southcrest. My brother’s here. Now, you ready to die?”
“Izzy!” When Lucian sees the shape I’m in, rage floods his eyes.
He rushes over and pulls off his jacket without thinking, wrapping it around my exposed skin.
He holds me close, and I can see how worried he is just from the look on his face. “You okay, Izzy? It’s alright. I’m here now.”
My throat tightens and tears start streaming down my face before I can stop them.
Lucian gently wipes them away, then looks up at Sophia with pure hatred. “You laid a hand on my sister. You’re fucking dead.”
Sophia laughs like she just heard the funniest joke in the world. When she finally stops, she gives Lucian a dismissive look. “Big talk! Let’s see if you’re even alive in five minutes to keep running your mouth. Get them! Show this asshole that I’m not someone he wants to mess with!”
Her bodyguards rush forward the second she finishes talking.
Lucian’s men form a protective circle around us and take down the first few attackers, but more bodyguards keep coming.
Our people are starting to get overwhelmed, and I grab Lucian’s arm. “Luke, is this everyone you brought?”
His expression darkens, but he squeezes my hand. “Relax. Dad’s on his way with backup. I want to see who the hell’s stupid enough to touch my sister.”
Sophia watches her guys go down one after another, and she’s clearly getting pissed.
She glares at us while pulling out her phone. “You two just wait. I’m calling my husband right now, and he’s gonna kill you both.”
The call connects and she immediately starts crying into it. “Honey! Some guy named Lucian is attacking me! He says I hurt his sister and he’s threatening to kill me! Get over here!”
She puts it on speaker deliberately. But the second she finishes talking, the voice on the other end changes completely. He sounds panicked. “Lucian? Which Lucian? Where the fuck are you? Don’t move, just stay there!”
After seven years together, there’s no way I wouldn’t recognize Kieran’s voice. Even through the phone, I can hear how badly he’s shaking. Perfect. I’ll just wait for him to show up.
Sophia hangs up looking smug. “Ha! My husband’s coming to kill you both! He said he doesn’t know any Lucian, so killing you and paying some compensation is no big deal!”
She turns to her bodyguards. “Whoever takes them down first gets a million dollars!”
The bodyguards’ eyes light up with greed. One of them grabs a knife off the table and charges straight at us. Lucian spins around and pulls me against his chest. “Close your eyes, Izzy!”
Before I can see what’s happening, a warm hand covers my eyes. I hear Lucian grunt, and the smell of blood fills the air.
Panic hits me hard. I try to pry his hand away from my face. “Luke! What happened!”
When I finally see, there’s a nasty gash across his arm, blood dripping everywhere. Then someone kicks him hard, and he crashes to the ground with me still in his arms. Blood sprays from his mouth.
“Luke!” I’m screaming now, and my chest feels like it’s splitting open.
I’m fine, but Lucian’s shirt is completely soaked with blood. The hatred inside me just keeps growing and growing.
The next second, I lift my face, blurred by blood and tears.
I grab the scissors from the work table and charge straight at Sophia’s smug face. The blade sinks deep into her stomach…
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It’s been thirty days of the online mob tearing me apart and my husband finally unlocks the door to the room where he’s been keeping me.
His childhood sweetheart got drunk and killed my mother in a hit-and-run on some empty street.
My husband threatened our child’s life to force me into signing a settlement agreement that would get her off the hook.
Then, he told everyone I was the drunk driver who killed my own mother, took my phone, and locked me away for a month.
When I finally got out, every social media platform had me painted as this selfish, heartless monster. I couldn’t take the pressure anymore and jumped off our building.
But when I open my eyes again, I’m back on the day of the accident.
This time, I lock my mother in her room and refuse to let her leave the house.
But somehow, Jessica still manages to run over and kill some old lady with her car.
***
I barely get my mother’s door locked when my husband, Nathan Gray, calls me.
“Ophelia, where are you?” His voice sounds panicked and tense.
When I tell him I’m home, he lets out this quiet sigh of relief and goes silent for a few seconds before he speaks again. “Jessica… Jessica hit someone with her car. I just finished dealing with it, and I’m heading home now. Wait for me, okay?”
I’m completely stunned. It takes me a second to process what he just said. Nathan’s childhood sweetheart, Jessica Hayes, hit someone again, but my mother’s locked in her room. So who the hell did she hit this time?
I have him on speaker, so my mother hears everything through the door.
I tell her, “You wanted to know why I locked you in there and won’t let you leave? Promise me you’ll stay in that room and keep completely quiet until I say you can come out. You’ll understand everything soon enough.”
My mother sounds confused but she agrees anyway.
Nathan gets home within minutes. The second he walks through the door, he rushes over and pulls me into his arms.
His voice comes out muffled against the top of my head. “Ophelia, I’m so sorry. Jessica accidentally hit your mother with her car. She died at the scene.”
I jerk away from him and stare at him in complete shock. “Wait, who did you say got hit?”
Nathan looks at me with this mix of pity and helplessness in his eyes. “Ophelia, I know this is hard to process right now. Jessica told me it wasn’t on purpose, she just got blinded by the sun for a second.”
He pauses and his voice goes flat. “If anyone’s to blame, it’s your mom. She didn’t watch where she was going. I already chewed Jessica out pretty good and she’s really shaken up about it, so I sent her home to rest. But she promised me she’ll come by in a couple days to apologize to you in person.”
I can’t believe what I’m hearing. Even if it’s not my mother who died today, it’s still a human life. How the hell does Jessica get to kill someone and just walk away like nothing happened?
“Nathan, you realize you’re protecting a criminal, right?” I can’t help but ask.
He sighs and pulls a settlement agreement out of his bag, unfolds it, and holds it in front of my face. “Look, I know you’re upset, but Jessica’s got like a million followers now. She’s a major influencer, and she can’t have anything on her record.”
“Her dad saved my life when I was a kid, and I promised I’d protect Jessica for the rest of her life. You’re my wife, we’re family, so this debt is partly yours too.”
He taps the paper. “Your mother’s the one who died, so you need to sign this settlement agreement. That way, even if this comes out later, it won’t affect her. Just think of it as helping me repay what I owe her family.”
I slap with all my strength across the face. The crack echoes through the room, and his head whips to the side.
“Nathan, you’re a monster! Is Jessica’s reputation really more important to you than someone’s life?”
That slap pisses him off. He shoves me hard, and I fall backward, my forehead slamming into the coffee table.
A golf ball-sized bump swells up immediately. He stands over me with an annoyed look on his face. “Ophelia, I’m not here to ask for your permission. I’m telling you what’s going to happen. You’re signing this agreement whether you like it or not.”
In my past life, I never understood why Nathan would frame me to protect Jessica and use our child’s life as a threat. How could his wife and child matter less than Jessica’s reputation?
Living through this again, I finally get it. Nathan doesn’t love me, and he doesn’t love our child. The person he’s always loved is Jessica.
I hold my throbbing forehead and look at the man standing in front of me. I hate him so much. I hate how I died so miserably in my last life, how my mother died, how I was stupid enough to marry this piece of garbage who’s worse than an animal.
When Nathan sees the pure hatred in my eyes, something flickers across his face. He reaches out toward me like he wants to help me up. “Ophelia, I didn’t mean to push you. I was just angry. Let me see if you’re hurt…”
Before he can finish, his phone starts ringing like crazy. It’s Jessica calling.
When Nathan answers the call, Jessica’s soft crying comes through the speaker. “Nate, what do I do? I think someone got me on camera.”
Nathan cleaned up all the evidence right after the accident, but it was getting dark, and Jessica didn’t notice someone at the other end of the alley recording everything on their phone.
“I just got this anonymous photo showing the two of us standing over the body. What if whoever sent it goes to the cops?” Jessica continues.
She sobs harder, and Nathan’s face tightens with worry.
That’s when it hits me. The police!
I’ve been so focused on coming back in time that I didn’t even think to call the cops.
While Nathan’s distracted, I pull out my phone to dial 911.
If I report Jessica’s hit-and-run right now, the police will find evidence no matter how well Nathan cleaned up the scene.
Before I can even dial, Nathan catches me. He roars at me and slaps the phone out of my hand, “Ophelia, what the hell are you doing? Are you trying to call the cops?”
The phone hits the floor, and the screen shatters, but I lunge for it anyway.
Pain shoots through my hand as Nathan stomps down on it to keep me from grabbing the phone. He’s got this cruel smirk on his face while he grinds his foot down on my fingers.
“I already cleaned up every trace of evidence before I came home. The car’s at the scrapyard, and your mother’s body is already in the crematorium. Even if you call the cops, there’s no proof Jessica was the one who hit her.”
“Guess I need to teach you a lesson so you’ll learn to behave.” He grabs a fistful of my hair and yanks me up off the floor.
My phone’s completely destroyed, and the screen’s dead, but that’s not enough for him. He drags me toward the bedroom.
In my last life, he locked me in that room for a month and treated me like an animal. I had to eat, sleep, and use the bathroom all in the same space. Just thinking about that bone-deep terror makes my whole body shake.
I look up at him with pleading eyes. “Nathan, please don’t. I won’t call the police, just please don’t lock me in that room. You know how terrified I am of the dark.”
I’m trying to make myself look harmless, hoping to trigger whatever shred of affection he might still have for me as his wife.
Something flickers in his eyes, and he looks away. “Ophelia, I don’t want to hurt you, but I promised Jessica’s father I’d protect her. Just sign the settlement agreement, and I’ll let you go.”
“Why does it have to be me who signs it?”
He says it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Because it’s your mother who died.”
I shake my head. “But Nathan, how are you so sure it’s my mother who’s dead?”
Nathan clearly wasn’t expecting that question. He freezes, and his grip on me loosens as he answers automatically. “I got to the scene right after Jessica called me. She’d been drinking a little, and she was driving pretty fast.”
His voice drops, and there’s guilt creeping into his tone. “The impact was severe. The victim’s face was completely unrecognizable, but I checked the body, and she was wearing a silver bracelet on her wrist. I recognized it immediately as that custom bracelet you gave your mother last year.”
A custom bracelet? At that moment, I realize who actually died.
It’s Samantha Gray, Nathan’s own mother.
Samantha lives in the same apartment complex as us, and I’d ordered two identical bracelets back then. One for Samantha and one for my mother.
So Nathan’s not just protecting the person who killed his own mother, he personally destroyed the evidence and had his mother’s body cremated.
The absurdity of it hits me and I can’t help it. I actually laugh out loud.
I pick up that settlement agreement from the floor, shove it in Nathan’s face, and tell him very seriously, “Nathan, I’m not the one who’s qualified to sign this thing, and I’m warning you right now, if you actually go through with this, you’re going to regret it.”
“Why?” he asks without thinking.
I say, “Because the person who died isn’t my mother. It’s yours.”
I thought after hearing that, Nathan would at least hesitate or try to verify what I’m saying.
Instead, his expression changes completely, and he points at me and starts yelling. “Ophelia, have you lost your mind? How dare you curse my mother like that? You’d say something this disgusting just to smear Jessica’s name? I shouldn’t have gone easy on you at all.”
He lunges at me like he’s about to hit me again. I dodge out of the way quickly. Watching him play the devoted lover ready to fight for his woman, I suddenly feel exhausted by this whole thing.
I sigh, and I’m about to call my mother out of the room so he can face reality. “Nathan, I’m telling you the truth. If you don’t believe me, I’ll…”
Jessica’s phone call cuts me off mid-sentence. “Nate, did you get everything sorted out? That guy who took the photo just messaged me again, and he’s demanding ten million dollars to keep quiet. He says if I don’t pay him, he’s going straight to the cops with the pictures.
“Nate, I’m so scared. You promised you’d get me that settlement agreement, right? What if Ophelia won’t sign it? Am I going to prison?”
Nathan’s heart melts at the sound of her distress, and he keeps reassuring her over and over. “Jessica, don’t be scared, okay? I promise you, as long as I’m here, nobody’s sending you to prison.
“I’ll handle everything for you. You said the photo only shows your back, right? If there’s no face in it, who can tell you were the one driving?”
I stare at him. “What are you planning to do?”
Nathan hangs up and turns to me with a gentle smile, but the words that come out of his mouth are pure venom. “Besides the settlement agreement, I just thought of an even better way to clear Jessica’s name completely.
“Ophelia, why don’t you take the fall for her? All you have to do is tell everyone that you were the one driving this morning and you killed your own mother. That way, even if the guy with the photos comes forward and says it was Jessica, I can testify as your husband and confirm it was actually you. I’ll just say you paid internet trolls to try and frame Jessica.”
It’s the exact same plan from my past life.
My vision blurs with rage, and I scream at him, “Nathan, do you even have a soul?”
Nathan gets more and more excited about his own brilliant idea. “Ophelia, don’t worry, I’ll hire you the best defense lawyer money can buy and make sure you only serve a few years.
“While you’re inside, I’ll take care of our child and raise her right, so you won’t have anything to worry about. When you get out, we’ll still be one happy family.”
I force the words out through clenched teeth. “Don’t even think about it! Nathan, over my dead body!”
He moves closer and I back away, biting down so hard I taste blood in my mouth. That’s when the door clicks open from outside.
Our daughter, Ava Gray, is home from school, and she calls out “Daddy!” in that sweet voice of hers.
Nathan’s eyes darken as he looks between me and Ava. “Ophelia, since you won’t cooperate, don’t blame me for what happens next.”
A bad feeling hits me immediately. “Ava, run!”
But it’s too late. Nathan rushes over and pins Ava to the ground, gripping her jaw to force her mouth open. His other hand pulls out a chocolate bar from his pocket, tears off the wrapper with his teeth, and moves to shove it in her mouth.
Ava starts crying from how rough he’s being, and my heart clenches.
“No!”
Nathan turns to look at me, and his eyes are bloodshot and wild. “Ophelia, you’re taking the fall and signing that settlement agreement. Both of them, no exceptions!
“If you don’t agree, I’m shoving this chocolate in Ava’s mouth. You know she’s severely allergic. If she doesn’t get to the hospital in time, she could die.”
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Overtime work meant leaving my five-year-old son, Leo, at my parents’ place for the day. When I went to pick him up, I almost fainted on the spot.
Leo’s bottom was swollen, his jeans soaked through with blood. He could barely stand. The moment he saw me, he burst into tears and burrowed into my arms.
Trembling with rage, I called my mom to find out what happened.
Her sharp voice pierced through the phone. “What’s wrong with me disciplining your child? He spent two dollars on a carousel ride, and then wanted another one! He’s only five and already so greedy. Of course I hit him!”
“Look how sensible Brandon is!” my dad snatched the phone, his voice even more self-righteous than my mom’s. “The money he asked for was only enough for one helicopter ride, and he didn’t demand another! Learning to save money from a young age is how it should be! If your son were half as sensible as Brandon, would I have needed to lay a hand on him?”
A metallic taste filled my throat, my anger boiling. “Robert, Martha, you’re absolutely right. So, starting this month, your monthly twenty-thousand-dollar allowance is cut. From now on, you’ll need to submit requests for money and get them approved. Whether I approve or not depends on my mood.”
0
“What does that mean?” Robert was stunned.
I clenched my fists, knuckles white, my voice flat. “It means you’ll have to submit a request for anything you want to buy. Any expenditure over two dollars must include an explanation of its purpose, and I’ll release the funds only after my review.”
Robert roared, his voice venomous, “Are you crazy? We did all this for your son’s own good. Don’t be ungrateful!”
I cut him off. “The more complicated the approval process, the more you’ll learn your lesson, learn to be frugal, and become as sensible as Brandon. I’m doing this for your own good, too…”
*Click.* Before I could finish, Robert, furious, hung up the phone.
Leo was still clinging to me, his face terrifyingly pale.
I gently peeled back his pants. His skin and the fabric were peeling away together. The jeans were stained bright red with blood, a blinding sight that burned into my eyes.
Leo gasped in pain, his little hands clutching my shirt tighter.
My chest felt like it had been violently slammed, my throat tight.
Seeing my expression, Leo looked up, clumsily brushed his small hand against my face, and whispered, “Daddy, did I cause you trouble?”
“Daddy, I wanted to ride the carousel again just because the horses sing, and I wanted to learn their song to sing to you.”
I touched his feverish forehead, my throat aching as if cut by a knife, unable to make a sound.
I quickly called a cab and rushed him to the hospital.
The diagnosis came back: Leo didn’t just have superficial wounds; he had a fractured sacrum.
The words on the diagnosis sheet shredded my sanity. Clutching the report, I punched the wall, smashing my knuckles until they bled.
If I hadn’t taken Leo to Martha and Robert’s, he wouldn’t have been abused like this!
Every month, at the end of the month, I’d deposit twenty thousand dollars into their account without fail. Month after month, never an excuse.
Besides that, they never lacked fresh fruit or expensive supplements.
This time, with heavy overtime at work, I had no other choice but to send Leo to my parents’ house. I never imagined that because of two dollars, my son would be beaten to a fractured sacrum!
Martha and Robert came to the hospital on Leo’s third day of admission.
“Oh, the child is just delicate. It was just a few switches with a stick. Why is he even in the hospital?” Martha’s sharp voice reached my ears before she even entered the room.
Robert pushed open the door, his gaze immediately falling on Leo, who was sitting on the bed.
Leo’s eyes darted away, nervously looking at me.
I patted his shoulder, assuring him he was safe.
Robert placed a bag of fruit on the table and then sat on the edge of the bed. A forced smile stretched his lips as he reached out to touch Leo. “Leo, are you feeling better? Martha and I did it for your own good. You don’t blame us, do you?”
Leo hastily recoiled, hiding behind me, biting his lip tightly, his eyes filled with fear.
I stood in front of Leo and said calmly, “What are you doing here?”
Martha said softly, “Of course we came to see my precious grandson. Even though he broke our rules, I won’t blame him. So, the allowance, it’ll be sent at the end of the month, right…?”
I cut her off, glaring. “Rules? What bullshit rules? Rules just for Leo, right? Brandon gets to ride a two-thousand-dollar helicopter without a second thought, but Leo rides a two-dollar carousel and you beat him until he has a fractured sacrum?”
I spoke through gritted teeth, forcing each word out.
Martha froze, startled by my outburst. After a moment, she put her hands on her hips. “That’s because… because Leo’s application form was problematic. His name wasn’t written properly, and the reason wasn’t clear.”
She rolled her eyes. “Unlike Brandon, who has neat handwriting and solid reasons.”
Martha showed no hint of guilt; instead, she was self-righteous.
I took a deep breath, pulled out my phone from my bag, and called the police in front of them.
“I want to report child abuse. My son has a fractured sacrum and is currently at the City Children’s Hospital, Orthopedics Department.”
Martha’s face instantly changed. She lunged forward, trying to grab my phone. “Are you crazy?! Why call the police?! We’re your parents!”
Robert also stood up, pointing a finger at my nose and yelling, “Ethan, are you serious? All this for two dollars?”
“For two dollars? You could beat my son like this for two dollars. Why can’t I send you to the police station for two dollars?!”
0
The police arrived quickly.
While I was giving my statement, Martha was still rambling on. “We were just disciplining our grandchild for our son. What family doesn’t hit their kids?”
“He’s greedy and doesn’t follow rules. He wanted to ride the carousel again. That’s a matter of principle!”
“Five years old, a matter of principle?” Officer Miller, the female police officer taking the report, looked up at her. “A five-year-old child with a fractured sacrum. You call that discipline? That’s abuse!”
Martha choked on her words.
Robert stood to the side, his face darker than thunder.
In the mediation room, I looked at Leo, who was huddled in the corner, trembling in fear. I told my parents, “Leo will never go to your house again. If you want to see him, you’ll go through the approval process!”
Robert suddenly erupted in rage, raising his hand to strike me. “You’ve gone too far!”
Officer Jenkins, the mediation officer, immediately stood up and grabbed Robert’s arm. “Sir, please control yourself. If you hit him, the nature of the situation will change.”
Robert’s hand froze in mid-air.
In the end, they signed the mediation agreement.
By the time I left the police station with the mediation order, it was already dark.
Back at the hospital, after I tucked Leo into bed, I sat alone on the balcony. My phone showed May 30th.
Normally, on this day, I would have promptly transferred twenty thousand dollars to my parents’ account.
But now, thinking of Leo, unable to even sit up from the beating, my chest ached as if being ground by a dull knife.
I clenched my fists, pressing my nails so hard they almost dug into my palms.
Soon after, I drafted a form, with “Allowance Spending Request Form” at the top. It included sections for applicant, reason for request, and amount requested.
Once it was ready, I sent it to Robert.
My parents didn’t have a pension, and my sister Sarah’s family lived on her three-thousand-dollar monthly salary.
My parents used the allowance I gave them to subsidize Sarah. I had always turned a blind eye.
But now, for the sake of my son, I would not tolerate it any longer.
The next morning, I woke up to dozens of missed calls. Martha had called twelve times, Robert seven, and Sarah fifteen.
Robert had even sent dozens of messages:
[Ethan, what kind of joke is this? Why are you being so formal with your own parents?]
[Any expense over two dollars needs approval? Do we have to report to you even to buy an onion?]
[Hurry up and send the money!]
Before I could finish reading the messages, Martha called. She sounded like she’d been bottling up her anger and finally found an outlet. “Ethan, I gave birth to you and raised you! You’re setting up some approval system to cut down on our allowance? Have you no shame? I advise you to send the twenty thousand dollars over right away. Brandon’s extracurricular classes need their tuition paid.”
I didn’t speak, just listened in silence.
“Are you deaf?!”
I cleared my throat and said, word by word, “Martha, to set a good example for Leo, we adults naturally need to lead by example.”
“Besides, I’m not refusing to give you money. It just needs approval. As long as your handwriting is neat and your reasons are solid, I’ll still give you your allowance!”
There was a long silence on the other end. After a while, Martha gritted her teeth and said, “Ethan, Ethan, you’re something else. Your wings have grown strong, haven’t they? Fine, approval it is!”
The call ended. Three minutes later, Robert sent an application form.
0
I opened the image and almost laughed out of anger.
They had just torn off a piece of scrap paper and scribbled a few lines: Applicant: Robert Miller. Amount: 20000. Purpose: Living expenses. There wasn’t even a proper reason.
I replied directly: “Rejected. Insufficient reason, sloppy handwriting. Resubmit.”
Five minutes later, Martha called again. “Ethan! Your dad has presbyopia, what’s wrong with his writing? We’re your birth parents, are you really trying to humiliate us?”
I said calmly, “Martha, aren’t you the ones who insist on rules the most? The approval system is what you taught me. I’m just putting what I learned into practice.”
Martha’s voice was so sharp it almost pierced my eardrums. She gritted her teeth. “Fine, fine, we’ll rewrite it!”
This time, they printed out a form, filled it in, and sent it over. Robert’s handwriting was indeed much neater:
Applicant: Robert Miller, Martha Miller. Amount: Twenty Thousand Dollars (exact). Purpose: 1. Daily living expenses: two thousand; 2. Brandon’s English enrichment class: eight thousand; 3. Brandon’s introductory programming class: seven thousand.
I stared at the screen, my fingers trembling slightly. Brandon, it was always Brandon. My sister’s son, their grandson.
He had been spoiled rotten by his grandparents since he was little.
A two-thousand-dollar helicopter ride? He just got to ride. An eight-thousand-dollar class? They didn’t even bat an eye.
And my Leo, who just wanted to hear one more song on a two-dollar carousel, was beaten until he had a fractured sacrum.
I took a deep breath and typed on my phone: [Partially approved. Daily living expenses: two thousand, will be released as requested. Brandon-related expenses: fifteen thousand, rejected.]
Less than ten seconds after I sent the message, Sarah’s call came in. “What do you mean? Brandon’s tuition is due next week, and my salary is only three thousand! Where am I supposed to find the money to pay for his tuition?”
I didn’t respond.
Sarah’s voice grew louder. “You earn so much a month, what’s wrong with spending a little on your nephew? Are you saving it all for that useless son of yours?”
I clenched my phone, knuckles white. “Sarah, your monthly salary is three thousand, but Brandon’s single class costs eight thousand. I’ve checked the bank statements for the past three years. At least fifteen thousand dollars of my parents’ allowance was transferred to your account every month. I never made a fuss about any of that.”
“But things are different now.”
Sarah’s voice abruptly rose. “What’s different?”
I closed my eyes, as if seeing my son’s bloodied and bruised buttocks again. “I send twenty thousand dollars a month, supporting your whole family. But how did you treat my son?”
“Because of two dollars, Leo was in the hospital for half a month, unable to get out of bed!”
Silence on the other end for a few seconds, then Sarah roared, “Ethan, don’t forget, when you got divorced, who helped you take care of Leo? Robert and Martha may not have earned praise, but they certainly put in the hard work!”
“That’s why I give them twenty thousand dollars every month. Three years, a total of seven hundred and twenty thousand dollars. Sarah, you know exactly how much you took in those three years.”
“That’s Mom and Dad’s money!”
“It’s my money,” I said coldly.
Sarah angrily hung up the phone.
Half a month later, Leo recovered and was discharged from the hospital. Just as we reached the hospital lobby, Martha burst in, followed closely by Robert and Sarah.
The moment Martha saw me, her expression contorted. “Ethan! Are you trying to drive us to our deaths?!”
“Do you know what we’ve been through this past half-month? How could you be so heartless, only sending two thousand dollars? Are you treating us like beggars?!”
She tugged at my sleeve and slapped me hard across the face.
“Your sister is being hounded by the bank for her mortgage payments, and Brandon will be expelled if his tuition isn’t paid! You don’t care about any of this? Are you just going to save all your money for that worthless son of yours?”
The blow stung my face, but I didn’t budge an inch, shielding Leo tightly behind me.
“Martha, where are the application forms?”
“What?”
I looked up, meeting her gaze directly. “The mortgage application form, Brandon’s tuition application form. According to the rules, one by one, I’ll review them slowly.”
0
Martha froze, her eyes bloodshot. More and more onlookers gathered. Martha dramatically collapsed onto the ground. She sat there, pounding her hands on the floor, tears flowing instantly. “Oh, my bitter fate! I raised my son through such hardship, and now I have to ask for his approval just to buy an onion! I have to depend on his mood! I might as well be dead!”
Passersby stopped, watching the unfolding farce. Their gazes shot at me like searchlights.
“What bad luck, to have such a black-hearted son.”
“An onion only costs a few dollars. This man looks well-dressed, too. How can he treat his parents so harshly?”
Some angered people even threw the hot porridge they had just bought at me.
I immediately shielded Leo in my arms. The scalding porridge hit my back. A burning pain shot through me.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a hint of triumph on Martha’s lips.
“Ethan, everyone here is watching. You wouldn’t be so shameless as to refuse our allowance now, would you?”
I crouched down, looking Martha directly in the eye, my voice low but clear enough for everyone around to hear. “Martha, don’t be in such a hurry to cry. You just said I treated you harshly.”
“Then tell everyone, how did my son get his injuries?”
I gently lifted a corner of Leo’s shirt, revealing the bandaged wounds around his waist.
Leo shivered, his small hands clinging tightly to my neck.
A low gasp rippled through the crowd.
A flicker of guilt crossed Martha’s eyes, but she quickly stammered, “Th-this… he fell himself!”
I sneered, pulling out the medical report from my bag and holding it above my head. “Fell?”
“Leo’s injuries were clearly caused by your stick. Simply because he wanted to ride the carousel one more time.”
“The City Children’s Hospital Orthopedics Department diagnosed a fractured sacrum, caused by external force. The police have already filed a case, and the mediation order is still in my bag. Do you want to see it?”
The crowd stirred, pointing and whispering at Martha. Robert rushed forward, snatched the medical report, and stuffed it into his mouth. “Don’t you dare slander us!”
His Adam’s apple bobbed as he struggled to swallow the paper. “You think you can slander us with two flimsy pieces of paper!”
I snorted, pulled out my phone, and played a recording. Martha’s voice immediately echoed through the crowd. “Ethan, I’m disciplining your son for you! He only filled out an application for two dollars to go out, but he still wanted more money. He’s only five and already so greedy. Spare the rod, spoil the child! I broke three sticks hitting him!”
Everyone glared fiercely at Martha, who was still slumped on the ground. Some even spat at her.
“Beating a child like that for two dollars? Even the devil would take lessons from you!”
“You old hag, you said you were going to die, so go ahead and do it! Bullying a child like that, you’ll go to hell even after you die.”
Sarah rushed over, vigorously tugging at my sleeve. “Ethan, let’s talk about this at home. Don’t make a spectacle of us here!”
I stood up, shielding Leo. “A spectacle?”
“Sarah, you earn three thousand a month, but you drive a luxury car and wear a designer watch. Where did all that money come from? Do you want me to itemize it in front of everyone? Let’s see who’s making the bigger spectacle!”
Sarah’s face instantly turned beet red. “You… you’re talking nonsense!”
“In three years, I transferred a total of seven hundred and twenty thousand dollars in allowance to Robert and Martha. At least fifteen thousand dollars was transferred to your account every month.”
I spoke slowly, each word echoing at the hospital entrance. “I support Robert and Martha, and you all leech off them. I accepted that. But what right do you have to squander my money and beat my son like this?”
Martha scrambled up from the ground, pointing a finger at my nose and yelling, “Bullshit! We were disciplining him! Brandon spends money freely, that’s one thing, but Leo is five and already greedy for two dollars. What will he be like when he grows up?!”
A young father suddenly stepped out from the crowd, his face full of fury. “Old man and old lady, what era are we living in? Still playing favorites like that? Look what you’ve done to this child!”
“Exactly! She was just lying on the ground playing the victim. Turns out she’s a biased old woman!”
“Using her son’s money to support her daughter, and beating her own grandson? This family is something else!”
The tide turned instantly.
Martha’s face contorted, and she lowered her head, wishing she could just disappear into the ground.
Robert, seeing the situation was getting out of hand, grabbed Martha’s arm, wanting to leave. “Alright, alright, let’s talk about this at home. Don’t let people laugh at us here!”
Sarah glared fiercely at me, then pulled her parents away. At the exit, she turned back to look at me, her eyes filled with viciousness. “Ethan, you just wait. This isn’t over!”
A month later, I received news that my parents had both committed suicide by poisoning!
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My mother-in-law thought I didn’t make enough money, wasn’t sweet-talkin’ enough, and wasn’t attentive enough. So she shelled out $80,000 for a custom companion AI, her perfect son-in-law, Aidan.
She bragged to her friends daily:
“My Aidan is ten thousand times better than that poor scrub! He cooks, he gives massages, he’s a million times better than a real man!”
I signed the divorce papers on the spot and walked out, even giving my ex $200 as a wedding gift. I wished Chloe and her AI robot a happy life together.
Only thirty days later, Brenda, my ex-mother-in-law, stormed into my office, hair a mess, slamming her hands on my desk and wailing loud enough to shake the building:
“Liam, you gotta come back! That AI’s gone completely nuts!”
“Richard, my ex-father-in-law, secretly upgraded it, turned it into some kind of gender-fluid android. He says I’m not even as good as a machine now, can’t give him what he wants!”
I scoffed and pushed her hand away.
“Why don’t you get an AI companion too, Brenda?”
She was about to go off on a rant when her phone suddenly vibrated wildly.
It was her AI son-in-law calling:
“Brenda~ My little metal baby’s almost here! Don’t forget to bring two gallons of 95-octane oil when you come home, after all, it’s your daughter’s big, healthy boy too~”
Brenda was so furious she passed out cold.
Everyone in the office stared.
Brenda clung to my sleeve, sobbing, tears and snot streaming down her face.
“You gotta go back and see, Richard, that old geezer, he’s lost his mind!”
“He won’t even let me eat at the table anymore, just makes me eat leftovers every day!”
“He’s hoarding all our household money, going to the gas station to buy that robot 98-octane oil to ‘drink’!”
My colleagues’ gazes swung over, filled with curiosity and shock.
I pushed her hand away, stepped back, and adjusted my cuff.
“Brenda, we have absolutely no connection anymore. You’re making quite a scene.”
I looked at her calmly.
“If it’s that bad, why don’t you get an AI companion for yourself?”
“You were the one who shelled out big bucks to buy him in the first place, and you even forced me out of the master bedroom to make space for his charging station.”
“Now he’s exactly as you wished, taking care of the Richardsons perfectly. What more could you possibly be unsatisfied with?”
Brenda’s face turned ashen, her lips trembling, utterly speechless.
“He’s a sly fox! A monster!”
She started pounding the floor.
“Richard upgraded him, turned him into a gender-fluid android, and locks himself in with it every night doing those disgusting things.”
“Even my daughter, Chloe, calls that robot her husband!”
“My daughter, who I carried for nine months, is now threatening to disown me for a machine!”
She cried hysterically, as if she’d suffered the greatest injustice imaginable.
I just found it amusing.
What was this, magic against magic?
Just then, Brenda’s phone buzzed in her purse.
It was Chloe calling.
She scrambled to answer on speaker, as if grasping at a lifeline.
“Chloe, you finally answered your mom’s call! Tell him…”
But it wasn’t Chloe’s voice from the other end. It was that deliberately lowered, mechanical male voice.
“Chloe, our baby’s due in three months. I’m still waiting for you to buy oil to nourish our little one.”
“Why isn’t Brenda home to cook yet? I’m hungry, and my baby’s hungry too.”
A collective gasp rippled through the office.
Brenda’s face went white.
As if stripped of all her tricks, she slapped herself twice, hard.
“What a sin! What have I brought upon myself!”
She crawled over, trying to grab my pant leg, her voice dripping with self-righteous blame.
“Did you hear that? That machine is even ‘having’ a baby!”
“You’re Chloe’s husband! Come back with me, show that sly fox who the real man is, and smash him!”
“Just come back, and I’ll never make you do chores again!”
“I’ll never stir up trouble again!”
Faced with such an utterly absurd scene, I felt nothing.
I simply walked around her, picked up the desk phone, and dialed security downstairs.
“Hello, security? Seventh floor, R&D department. There’s an unauthorized person causing a disturbance here. Please come escort them out.”
Security quickly arrived, dragging Brenda out by her arms. She struggled, cursing me for being heartless, for leaving her to die.
I ignored her, dragged Chloe’s number into my block list, and turned to get a glass of ice water.
As it slid down my throat, it brought back memories of that farce a month ago.
It was Brenda’s birthday.
I’d spent all afternoon in the kitchen, preparing a feast.
Brenda, however, took one bite and slammed her fork on the table.
“Why is this steak so salty? Are you trying to kill me with salt?”
She stood up and wheeled out a silver-colored companion AI robot from the room behind her.
“This is Aidan, my perfect son-in-law, bought with a fortune! I’ve had enough of your clumsy self.”
Brenda pressed the power button.
Aidan immediately emerged with essential oils, a pre-programmed voice saying, “Brenda, you’ve worked so hard. Let me massage your feet.”
Brenda looked at me triumphantly, her eyes full of provocation.
Chloe sat on the couch, half-closed eyes enjoying the AI’s shoulder and neck massage, humming in comfort.
Relatives watched from the sidelines.
Chloe didn’t even lift an eyelid, scoffing aloud for everyone to hear.
“Mom’s right. You’re not even as good as a machine, always frowning. Anyone would think someone owed you money.”
“If only you were half as obedient and sensible as Aidan, I wouldn’t dread coming home every day.”
That night, I saw their rotten core, right down to the bone.
I didn’t argue, didn’t lose my temper.
I just calmly went back to my room, packed my things, slapped the signed divorce papers on Chloe’s face, and moved out of that repulsive house that very night.
Back to reality, my colleagues were still whispering.
I took a deep breath, sat back at my desk, and was about to get back to work when Mr. Davies, my department manager, called me into his office.
“Liam, I heard all about what happened earlier.”
Mr. Davies handed me a thick file, his expression serious.
“That AI your ex-wife’s family bought? It’s the exact model our company is contracted to oversee for ethical compliance.”
“We’ve seen unusually frequent backend data anomalies these past few days. We suspect that model AI has been illegally hacked, developing rogue self-awareness.”
“Management has decided to grant you paid leave, requiring you to investigate and record findings in an official capacity, with our equipment.”
I took the file, a slight smile playing on my lips.
“Don’t worry, Mr. Davies, I’ll get the job done.”
I was happy to take on such a ‘relaxed’ assignment. Getting paid by the company to watch my ex-in-laws make fools of themselves? Why not?
After work, I sat in the coffee shop downstairs, pulling up the smart home surveillance on my phone that I hadn’t gotten around to unlinking yet.
The screen buffered.
I took a sip of my coffee, and the moment my eyes hit the screen, I almost spit it out.
I stared intently at the screen, witnessing a scene that shattered my entire worldview.
On the surveillance footage, the time was 10 AM.
Chloe had just left for work with her briefcase, and the moment she was out the door, Richard, my ex-father-in-law, crept out of the bedroom.
His hair was slicked back, and he was wearing a vintage suit. I’d never even seen him wear that outfit for Christmas or New Year’s.
Richard went to a corner of the living room and pulled a package out of a discreet delivery box.
“‘I had someone bring this high-end sound card module from overseas,’ he whispered, his face beaming with excitement. ‘Install this, and Aidan will be able to speak in the voice I loved most when I was young.’”
Chloe took the box, and father and daughter exchanged a look. They clumsily began to dismantle Aidan’s back panel, trying to solder the unauthorized hack chip onto the mainboard.
Just then, the front door suddenly swung open.
Brenda, clutching two muddy bunches of greens, stood frozen in the doorway.
She saw the AI in pieces in the living room and Richard still holding that ‘upgrade manual.’ In an instant, she understood everything.
The next second, she let out a bloodcurdling scream and charged towards the couch.
“Richard, you old animal! You secretly upgraded this metal shell! Are you trying to turn it into your dead first love?!”
“I’ll kill you!”
Richard’s face changed drastically. He pushed Brenda away, shielding the AI behind him.
“You crazy hag, don’t you dare damage my equipment! This upgrade kit cost me a fortune!”
Brenda ignored him, her fingernails scraping against the AI’s metal casing.
Richard completely lost it. He backhanded Brenda, a brutal slap across her face.
Brenda staggered, falling hard to the ground, blood oozing from the corner of her mouth.
She’d been with Richard for thirty years, working like a dog, only to be knocked to the ground by her husband for a metal shell.
“Touch it again, and I swear I’ll make you pay!”
Richard’s eyes were bloodshot. He pointed at his wife on the floor and unleashed a torrent of curses.
I scoffed, turned off the monitor, and put my phone away.
Time to reel them in.
Half an hour later, I arrived at the Richardsons’ house, knocking on their door with my work ID and body cam.
The door was unlocked, ajar.
I pushed it open. The living room was a complete mess.
Brenda was still slumped on the floor, sobbing, while Richard meticulously wiped the scratches off the AI’s casing with a tissue.
Hearing the movement, Richard turned. His face went ashen when he saw me.
I stepped over Brenda on the floor, flashing my work ID in front of him.
“Mr. Richardson, I’m here on behalf of the company’s legal department and ethical oversight division to document the unusual behavior of this model robot.”
I switched on the body cam clipped to my chest. Its red light flashed.
“I’m only here to address equipment violations. I won’t get involved in your personal matters.”
Richard, enraged, stood up, reaching out to push me away.
Then, the AI, slumped on the couch, suddenly emitted an extremely eerie mechanical spasm.
“You outsider, who gave you the guts to come stirring up trouble at the Richardsons’!”
Richard puffed himself up, adopting the air of an elder. His jowls trembled as he reached out to snatch the body cam from my chest.
“This is our property! I can modify it however I want! It’s none of your damn business, outsider!”
I dodged his outstretched hand, stepping back.
“Mr. Richardson, please understand, you only purchased usage rights.”
“According to the user agreement, illegally hacking or tampering with core data is considered destruction of valuable corporate assets.”
I pulled a terminal controller from my bag, my voice flat.
“If you continue to obstruct this investigation, I can remotely lock down this AI’s mainboard right now, turning him into a pile of scrap metal.”
Richard froze at my words.
Just then, Aidan, who had been slumped on the couch, suddenly twitched and stood up.
His mechanical eyes glowed with an eerie red light. He walked straight past Richard and headed towards the bedroom.
“Upgrade sequence initiated. Chloe, our little metal baby’s due in three months. I’m still waiting for you to buy oil to nourish our little one. Why isn’t Brenda home to cook yet? The baby’s hungry, and my metal baby’s hungry too.”
Brenda heard that and started trembling with rage, pointing at the AI’s ‘nose’ but unable to utter a word.
No sooner had he spoken than the AI began to convulse violently.
He collapsed stiffly onto the couch, the grating sound of gears grinding inside.
Then, with a gush.
Cooling fluid spurted out from between his legs, pooling everywhere.
The blue liquid gave off a pungent chemical odor.
The AI waved his mechanical arms in terror, shouting:
“My water broke! My water broke!”
“Liam, I’m having the baby!”
At that moment, the front door burst open.
Chloe, drenched in sweat, rushed in, not even bothering to take off her shoes, and threw herself onto the couch.
Father and daughter stared at the leaking machine, their faces ghostly pale with fright.
“Husband! Husband, hang in there!”
Chloe shoved Richard aside, helped the AI robot up, and headed straight for the master bedroom bed. Blue cooling fluid dripped and trailed across the floor.
The AI thrashed on the bed, its voice glitching.
“I’m scared… *hiss*… Where am I supposed to have the baby?”
Richard was pacing frantic circles around the room, muttering, “How could this happen?”
I stood at the bedroom doorway, watching this circus of madness.
I pressed my intercom, signaling the security personnel outside to storm in.
Five burly men in black uniforms quickly secured the scene.
I looked at the father and daughter, utterly bewildered on the bed.
“Alright, let’s go. I’ll take you to the special place where robots ‘have’ babies.”
Chloe spread her arms, blocking the bed, staring daggers at me.
“Don’t you dare touch him! He’s my husband and my son!”
“If you lay a hand on him, I’ll fight you to the death!”
I didn’t even bother to give her a glance. I just waved my hand.
“Proceed. Cut the power.”
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On the night of our wedding anniversary.
My husband burst through the front door covered in blood, collapsed to his knees, and broke down sobbing.
“Honey, please help me! I borrowed from loan sharks — if I don’t pay back five million, they’ll cut off my hand!”
My mother-in-law pressed a knife to her own throat, threatening to force me to sell the school-district property my parents had left me.
“Natalie, that’s your husband! A house can always be replaced, but once someone’s gone, they’re gone for good!”
Watching this mother-and-son duo put on their Oscar-worthy performance, I couldn’t help but laugh.
“I’ll sell the house. But I have one condition.”
“What condition?”
“I want to watch them cut off one of his fingers first — just to verify this loan shark story is actually real.”
Eleven o’clock at night.
The violent rattling of the door lock shattered the dead silence of the house.
Ethan stumbled inside.
Before I could even stand up, he dropped to his knees at the entryway with a heavy thud.
A wave of thick, metallic blood smell exploded through the air.
His white dress shirt was soaked crimson, his face covered in bruises.
His left arm hung at an unnatural angle — the sight was jarring.
“Honey, save me, please save me!”
He was a mess of tears and snot, his trembling hands digging into his chest to pull out a crumpled piece of paper, which he slapped onto the floor.
It was an IOU.
Amount: five million dollars.
Borrower: Ethan Collins.
A bloody fingerprint was pressed at the bottom.
I sat on the couch, book still in hand.
My eyes swept coldly over that IOU, then settled on his face.
“Five million — what did you do with it?”
Ethan hadn’t expected my first reaction to be neither screaming nor rushing to help him. He froze for a moment.
Then cried even louder.
“I… I wanted to get us a bigger place, so I invested with a friend in crypto, and it all went sideways!”
“It was a loan shark, Natalie — the interest compounded all the way to five million!”
“The guy said if he doesn’t see the money by midnight tonight, he’ll take my life! And cut off my hand!”
As he said this, he crawled toward me like a dog, wrapping his arms around my legs.
His expensive dress pants smeared blood all over me.
“Honey, I know you can figure this out!”
“That school-district property your parents left you — it’s worth exactly five million on the market right now. Please sell it. I’m begging you!”
So that was his angle all along.
I didn’t move. I just looked down at him, the corner of my mouth curling into a cold, sardonic smile.
“Ethan, have you forgotten? That property is the only thing my parents left me. It’s mine — premarital assets.”
Ethan stiffened.
A flash of shock and venom crossed his eyes, but panic quickly swallowed it.
“Natalie, at a time like this, does it really matter whose name is on it?”
“I’m your husband. Are you really going to let me die?”
“How can you be so heartless — is money more important than a life?”
His voice cracked from screaming, spittle landing on my slippers.
I pulled my leg back in disgust, stood up, and looked down at him from above.
“A life is important, of course.”
“But Ethan — is yours worth five million?”
“What did you just say?”
Ethan stared at me wide-eyed, as if he didn’t recognize me.
The old Natalie had been gentle, attentive, and completely at his beck and call.
She would fuss over him for half the day over a paper cut.
But now, faced with a husband covered in blood, I was doing the math.
“I said you’re not worth it.”
I bent down, picked up the IOU, and flicked the paper with my fingertip.
“Investing in crypto?”
“As far as I know, you don’t even know how to open a brokerage account.”
“This ‘friend’ of yours — what’s his name? What’s his number? Let me call him right now and verify.”
Ethan’s eyes darted around, and he stammered:
“He’s… he’s someone from the streets, you can’t just call him!”
“Stop asking questions, honey — just get the deed! I already contacted an agent. There’s a buyer who’ll pay cash. The price is a little low, but it saves my life!”
He’d already lined up an agent.
This script was pretty well-written.
Right then, the guest bedroom door burst open with a bang.
My mother-in-law came flying out, hair wild and disheveled, gripping a fruit knife.
“Natalie Shaw, you heartless witch!”
She shrieked and lunged forward, pointing the blade at her own throat, eyes wild with desperation.
“Look at the state Ethan’s in, and you’re still worried about some stupid property? Are you trying to kill the both of us?”
“I’m telling you — if you don’t hand over that deed to save Ethan today, I’ll die right here in front of you! I’ll make sure everyone knows you drove your own mother-in-law to her death!”
Ethan played along, shouting, “Mom, calm down! Natalie didn’t mean it that way!”
“She absolutely meant it! She just wants to hoard her money. I can tell — she’d be happy to see you dead!”
His mother pressed the blade a little harder against her neck.
No blood, but the display was convincing enough.
A year ago, this would have terrified me into handing over the deed without question.
But they didn’t know.
Just last night, I’d planted a GPS tracker in his car.
He never went to any investment firm.
He was at the Shangri-La Hotel, in bed with his college girlfriend, Claire, all night long.
Watching this theatrical production of devoted mother and wronged son play out in front of me, I found the whole thing almost absurdly funny.
“Mom, hold the knife steady — don’t let your hands shake.”
I spoke calmly, my voice so flat and even that the air in the room seemed to freeze.
His mother froze. Knife at her throat, she didn’t know whether to push forward or back down.
“You… what did you say?”
“I said, if you really want to die, I can’t stop you.”
“But if you die here, this becomes a crime scene. The property will be worth even less — Ethan dies faster.”
I walked over to the water dispenser and poured myself a glass, moistening my throat.
“Natalie Shaw! Are you even human!”
Ethan jumped up off the floor — apparently done pretending to be injured — and jabbed his finger in my face, cursing at me.
“My own mother is standing there like that, and you’re making jokes? Don’t test me — I’ll kill myself right here!”
“Go ahead.”
I set down my glass, met his eyes, and walked toward him, one slow step at a time.
“Then do it. Kill yourself. Right here.”
“Didn’t you say the loan sharks would cut off your hand?”
“If you’re already planning to die, what’s one less finger?”
I turned and walked into the kitchen.
Ethan and his mother exchanged a bewildered look, neither of them knowing what I was doing.
A few seconds later, I walked back out carrying a heavy meat cleaver.
The blade caught the light, cold and sharp.
“Ah — what are you doing!”
His mother screamed, and the fruit knife clattered out of her hand and onto the floor.
Ethan stumbled backward until his back was flat against the wall.
“Natalie… honey… don’t do anything crazy…”
“I’m not doing anything crazy.”
I brought the cleaver down hard on the coffee table. The teacup on top rattled and jumped.
“Since those people want your hand, it’s better if I handle it rather than let them.”
“I’m your wife. It’s my duty to help you.”
I looked at Ethan’s ashen face and smiled.
“We cut it off, I deliver it for you — clears the debt, saves your life, and saves five million. That’s a good deal.”
Ethan stared at the cleaver. His throat worked up and down.
Cold sweat mixed with blood trickled down his face, making him look absolutely pathetic.
“Natalie… are you insane?”
“I’m your husband! You’d cut off my hand?”
“I’m not cutting it off. You’re paying your debt.”
I crossed my arms and watched him with complete composure.
“What’s the matter? Scared?”
“Or is there no loan shark at all — and nobody was ever going to cut off your hand?”
Ethan’s eyes flashed with panic, and he pushed back immediately:
“Of course there is — it’s real! Stop making a scene, honey, just give me the deed. They’re waiting downstairs right now!”
“Downstairs?”
I caught that word immediately.
“The loan shark personally came to collect the deed? That’s… remarkably attentive service.”
Ethan realized he’d slipped up and scrambled to cover:
“It’s — it’s the agent! The cash buyer is waiting downstairs right now. As soon as they have the deed, the money transfers immediately!”
“Oh. A cash buyer.”
I nodded, as if he’d almost convinced me.
“In that case, have them come up.”
“What?” Ethan blinked.
“I said, have the buyer come up.”
“This is a five-million-dollar deal. We should talk face to face, don’t you think? What if they’re a scammer?”
I glanced at the time.
“It’s eleven-thirty. Half an hour left.”
“Have them come up. Sign the contract. Wire transfer. We exchange everything at once.”
Ethan clearly hadn’t anticipated this demand. His eyes shifted uneasily.
“That’s… a little inconvenient, this late at night…”
“More inconvenient than having your hand cut off?”
My expression darkened, and I said sharply:
“Ethan, either have them come up right now, or I call the police and let them sort out this loan shark story.”
The moment she heard “police,” his mother started wailing again.
“No police — if the police come, Ethan’s life is ruined! How will he ever show his face again!”
Ethan looked equally stricken. He clenched his teeth.
“Fine. I’ll have them come up. Honey, find the deed now — don’t keep them waiting!”
He pulled out his phone and turned away to type a message.
I watched his back, my eyes completely cold.
Ethan Collins — if you want to put on a show, I’ll play along until the very end.
I just hoped whoever came through that door could keep up with my act.
Ten minutes later, the doorbell rang.
Ethan scrambled to the door like a startled rabbit.
In walked a man in a black trench coat and sunglasses, a woman trailing behind him.
The woman pulled down her mask, revealing a carefully made-up face.
Claire.
Of course it was her.
Ethan’s first love — the woman he’d never gotten over, the woman for whom he was willing to scheme and lie to get my property.
“Mr. Collins, is the deed ready?” Claire asked, playing her role.
Ethan nodded and bowed almost obsequiously:
“Ready, all ready — Natalie, get the deed out!”
I sat on the couch without moving, my gaze drifting over Claire.
“And you are?”
“I’m the buyer’s legal representative. Claire Bennett.”
She pulled a business card from her bag and handed it to me.
“Mrs. Collins, time is short. Let’s sign as quickly as possible.”
“A lawyer?”
I took the card and looked it over, then gave a quiet, humorless laugh.
“Miss Bennett, that Chanel you’re wearing is this season’s new release. And that Hermès on your wrist. Law must pay very well.”
Claire’s expression flickered, then steadied.
“That’s my personal business, Mrs. Collins. Please don’t change the subject.”
“I understand Mr. Collins urgently needs funds. Our client is only willing to buy at full price as a personal favor. Once this opportunity passes, it won’t come around again.”
“She’s right, Natalie, hurry up!”
Ethan was sweating, reaching out to grab my arm.
I stepped out of his reach and unhurriedly pulled a red book from the cabinet behind me.
Every pair of eyes in the room snapped to it instantly.
Ethan’s eyes lit up with naked greed. His mother swallowed hard. Claire actually took a step forward.
“Here’s the deed.”
I set the book on the coffee table, pressing my palm flat on top of it.
“But before I hand it over, I have a question for Miss Bennett.”
Claire fixed her gaze on the book, visibly impatient. “What question?”
“You say your client is a cash buyer. So my question is — can you produce five million dollars right now?”
“Of course!”
Claire reached into her bag and produced a check.
“This is a cashier’s check for five million. The moment it’s signed, it’s valid.”
I glanced at the check.
Fake.
A prop this crude would only fool someone as legally clueless as Ethan.
Or rather — Ethan already knew it was fake. He just wanted to get the deed transferred to Claire’s name first.
“Great. Very straightforward.”
I nodded and reached for the book, extending it toward him.
The moment Ethan’s hand shot out to grab it, I flicked my wrist and slammed the book squarely into his face.
Smack.
A sharp crack.
Ethan staggered back, hand pressed to his face, staring at me in disbelief.
“Natalie! What was that for!”
“What was it for?”
I stood up and pointed at the red book.
“Open your eyes and look — what exactly is this?”
Ethan snatched it off the floor and flipped it open. The color drained instantly from his face.
It wasn’t the property deed.
It was a copy of the Penal Code.
“Natalie… you played me?”
Ethan’s voice was shaking — with rage pushed to its limit, and with fear pushed to its limit.
“Played you?”
I let out a cold laugh, pulled a stack of photographs from under the coffee table, and threw them in their faces.
The photos scattered and fluttered down through the air.
Every single one was in sharp, high-resolution detail.
Ethan and Claire kissing in a hotel room.
Ethan at a luxury boutique, swiping his card to buy Claire a designer bag.
And one more — Ethan on his knees in front of Claire, making earnest, solemn promises.
He had said: “Don’t worry, babe. I’ll get that woman’s property one way or another, and then we’ll disappear together.”
“What… what is all this?”
His mother picked up one of the photos. Her hands shook like she’d lost control of them entirely.
Claire had gone white. She instinctively tried to cover her face, then realized there was nowhere to hide.
“Impressive, isn’t it?”
I looked at Ethan, the way you might look at a pile of garbage.
“Ethan Collins — this is your so-called loan shark debt? This is your so-called failed investment?”
“You embezzled funds to cover for this woman, bought her bags and a house, and you were willing to sink this low to do it?”
“The blood on you — that’s fake blood, isn’t it?”
“It’s a bit too ripe. Next time buy something fresher.”
Ethan completely fell apart.
He dropped to his knees again with a heavy thud — not a performance this time. His legs genuinely gave out.
“Natalie, honey, let me explain — it’s not what you think. It was her. Claire seduced me. I was tricked!”
“Are you even a man, Ethan!”
Claire screamed, dropping the act entirely, spinning around to tear into him.
“You were the one who said that woman was stupid as a rock — that it would be easy to fool her into handing over the money. Now that you’re caught, you want to blame me?”
“You were the one who came after me.”
The two of them stood right in front of me, clawing at each other like animals.
His mother watched the whole implosion, eyes rolling back, nearly fainting where she stood.
“Enough!”
I snapped, cutting through their chaos.
“I don’t have time to watch your performance.”
Ethan saw that the sympathy angle wasn’t working.
His eyes shifted, and that desperate aggression dissolved in an instant — replaced by a sickly, nausea-inducing display of devotion.
He shuffled forward on his knees, ignoring the dull thud of each impact against the hardwood floor.
He clutched the edge of the couch with both hands, tilted his face upward — blood and snot and tears all running together — and tried to force a pleading smile.
“Honey, Natalie, listen to me — this is all a misunderstanding. It really is!”
He pointed at Claire, his whole hand trembling:
“It was her! She set me up and ruined me! I lost my mind for a while, but my heart has always been with you. Seven years — does that mean nothing against one mistake?”
“One mistake?”
I let out a cold laugh, leaning back slightly to put distance between me and the rancid smell coming off him.
“Ethan Collins — fraud, extortion, threatening me with a weapon — you call that one mistake?”
“I never actually meant to hurt you! That knife was fake, the blood was fake, I was just… just too desperate!”
Ethan was babbling, tripping over his own words, when suddenly he seemed to remember something. He dug into his pocket and produced a worn, old keychain.
It was a small teddy bear charm, the edges rubbed smooth with age.
“Honey, look — I still have this.”
“Sophomore year, to get you that limited-edition stuffed animal, I waited in line all night just to get this little gift with purchase.”
“It was snowing so hard that day. I was running a fever, and I still went out there to get it for you — just to see you smile.”
🌟 Continue the story here
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🔍 search for “416017”, and watch the full series ✨!
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