Author: Momo Chan

When I got the news that my husband was having surgery, I braved a full-on hurricane—pouring rain, howling winds—and drove four hours straight back to the city. By the time I made it to the hospital, Evan was lying in the hospital bed, groggy but loud, demanding, “Where’s my wife? Someone get my wife here!” His friends, gathered around him, started teasing him, calling him whipped and saying how hopelessly in love he was with me. Everyone always said he adored me to no end. Blushing, I walked over with a shy smile, feeling a mix of relief and happiness. I gently took his hand and reassured him softly, “I’m here.” But to my shock, Evan frowned, yanked his hand away, and looked at me like I was some stranger. “Get lost!” he snapped, his voice filled with disdain. “You’re not my wife! My wife is Sofia!” … The once lively hospital room fell into an awkward silence after Evan’s outburst. His group of buddies immediately looked uncomfortable, avoiding my gaze like guilty children caught in the act. I scanned their faces, and it all became painfully clear: they knew about Sofia. In that moment, I felt like a complete fool. The sweetness and shyness I’d shown just moments before—how pathetic and laughable it must have seemed to them. One of them tried to stammer an explanation. “Um… don’t take it seriously, okay? Evan’s still out of it from the anesthesia. He’s just talking nonsense.” The rest quickly chimed in: “Yeah, everyone knows how much he loves you. He’s totally whipped—this has to be the drugs talking.” “Exactly! Sofia’s just his secretary. She could never compare to you in his heart.” But one of them nudged the speaker, signaling him to shut up. I didn’t say a word. I just stood there, numb. My feet, soaked from standing in rainwater for over four hours, felt cold and lifeless. Meanwhile, Evan kept calling out, “Where’s my wife? Where’s my wife? Mason, call my wife! Hurry!” His voice softened, tinged with a childlike sadness. “I want to hold her. Why doesn’t she care about me?” I held his hand tightly and asked, “Evan, who am I?” He blinked at me, his eyes unfocused, and after a long pause, he muttered three words: “The old hag.” I forced a laugh, though tears blurred my vision. So this was it. From high school sweethearts at seventeen to marriage at thirty, after just four years of being his wife, I’d already become “the old hag” in his eyes. In the end, I took Evan’s phone and called Sofia. She arrived quickly. The moment she entered, she ignored me entirely, rushing to Evan’s side like a heroine in a romance movie. Grabbing his hand, her eyes reddened with emotion as she cried, “Evan, I’m so sorry I’m late!” Evan’s eyes lit up instantly, his face breaking into a wide smile. He pulled her into a hug and said, “You’re finally here, honey. I missed you so much.” “Someone tried to pretend to be you earlier,” he added, glaring in my direction. “But I wasn’t stupid enough to fall for it. I told her to get lost!” Sofia glanced at me smugly before turning back to Evan and cooing, “My husband is so smart.” Evan pointed to his lips, grinning like a child. “Don’t I deserve a reward?” Without hesitation, the two started kissing, completely oblivious to everyone else in the room. I watched, my throat tight and my chest aching. My eyes stung with unshed tears, and my entire body felt like it was trembling uncontrollably. No matter how hard I dug my nails into my leg, the cold numbness wouldn’t go away. Mason, one of Evan’s friends, finally broke the silence, his voice soft and hesitant. “Maybe… you should head home for now? Once Evan wakes up, I’m sure he’ll explain everything to you.” Explain? I turned to him, my face streaked with tears. I didn’t want to cry—especially not in front of Sofia. Crying in front of her felt like admitting defeat, like exposing my humiliation for her to revel in. But I couldn’t stop the tears from falling. Just half an hour ago, Evan had been my perfect husband. My pride. My safe haven. We’d been together for thirteen years, and in all that time, we’d never once had a serious fight. I thought it was because of his endless patience and love for me. But now? That perfect image had been shattered, and the earthquake it caused in my heart left nothing but devastation. I walked out of the hospital room in silence. As I stepped through the door, I heard the collective sigh of relief from Evan’s friends, like they’d just gotten rid of a burden. At some point, I’d been quietly pushed out of Evan’s life—and his inner circle—without even realizing it. That night, I couldn’t sleep. I replayed every moment of our thirteen years together in my mind, every sweet memory now bitter and suffocating. At some point, I developed a fever. My body felt unbearably hot, yet I couldn’t wake up no matter how hard I tried. It was as if I were trapped in a nightmare I couldn’t escape. Just as I thought I might die, I felt a hand on my forehead and heard someone calling me softly, “Honey, wake up. Please.” I couldn’t respond. I didn’t have the strength. All I could do was let the tears roll silently down my face. When I finally woke up, the fever had broken. The first thing I saw was Evan sitting by my bedside, looking utterly exhausted.

I didn’t expect to wake up to the sight of Evan sitting by my bedside. For a moment, I thought last night had been a bad dream. I just stared at him blankly, unable to process it all. When Evan saw me awake, his face lit up with relief. He grabbed my hand tightly and asked, “Baby, how are you feeling? Are you okay?” I slid my hand out of his grasp, frowning as I looked at him. “Baby? Or… the old hag?” His face turned pale as if all the blood had drained from it. His eyes reddened, and to my shock, he slapped himself hard across the cheek. “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice trembling. “I swear, it was the anesthesia talking. I wasn’t in my right mind.” He looked at me, his expression full of regret and desperation. “I… I don’t even know how I could’ve done something so stupid. When I fully came to, I was consumed with regret and fear. “I was terrified you’d leave me. That’s why, even though the doctor told me I wasn’t ready to be discharged, I left anyway.” As he spoke, he struggled to stand, lifting his shirt to show me the bandages from his appendectomy. Blood was beginning to seep through the gauze. I remembered how he had stayed by my side all night, even in his condition, and my heart softened just a little. Looking at the hurt and guilt in his eyes, I thought to myself—maybe this was real. Maybe… he wasn’t completely beyond saving. Maybe he had just been momentarily infatuated with a younger, prettier woman. But that infatuation couldn’t compare to the love he had for me. If he could cut off those feelings completely, maybe we could go back to the way we were. But the memory of him kissing Sofia in front of everyone played on a loop in my mind, reopening the wounds. My tears began to fall before I could stop them. Evan’s eyes turned red, filled with guilt. Panicked, he started wiping my tears, rambling apologies. “I’m so sorry, Hannah. I never wanted to hurt you like this. “But please, believe me—there’s no one else for me but you. I don’t even know why I said what I did under the anesthesia. “I’ve already fired Sofia. No matter what, her behavior last night proved she had inappropriate intentions toward me. “A woman like that—someone who’d knowingly try to wreck a marriage—I would never be interested in her!” He paused, then added earnestly, “You know how much I hate cheaters. After what happened with my parents, do you really think I’d ever do something like that?” I looked into his eyes and thought back to his past. His mother had taken her own life after his father’s affair drove her into a breakdown. Evan had always despised infidelity, going so far as to refuse to work with people he deemed morally corrupt. And honestly, if there were someone else in his heart, how could he have treated me so well all these years? With that thought, I decided to give him another chance. Evan pulled me into his arms, holding me tightly. His tears fell onto my neck, warm and wet, and I could feel him trembling. I knew Evan wasn’t someone who cried easily. If he was crying now, it meant he truly loved me. It meant he was genuinely afraid of losing me. I whispered, “Evan, don’t lie to me. If you ever betray me again, you’ll lose me for good.” His body stiffened slightly, but a moment later, he leaned back and looked at me with determination. “Hannah, I swear—your Evan will never betray you. Ever.” And just like that, we made up. In the weeks that followed, Evan treated me better than ever before. He started driving me to and from work every day, never missing a single pick-up or drop-off. He brought me a different bouquet of flowers every morning, gave me nightly massages, and curled up on the couch with me to binge cheesy rom-coms, no matter how much he hated them. At work, my coworkers teased me endlessly, saying I had my husband wrapped around my finger. Some even asked me for tips on “husband training.” But unlike before, when I used to speak of our relationship with pride and confidence, I could only muster a faint, hollow smile. The events of that night had left a knot in my heart—one I couldn’t untangle, no matter how hard I tried. A month later, I found out I was pregnant. When I told Evan, he was over the moon. He picked me up and spun me around in circles, laughing like a child. Watching him beam with joy, I felt a sense of relief. I was glad I hadn’t let one mistake ruin what we had. I thought to myself, He’ll be a great dad. That hope shattered the day I walked into the OB-GYN’s office and saw him with Sofia. He was sitting next to her, his hand gently resting on her belly, his face glowing with tender excitement. I froze in the doorway, my heart pounding as I watched him lean closer to her and smile. “Everything’s going to be fine,” he said softly. “I can’t wait to meet our baby.” Sofia, her face flushed with happiness, looked at him and asked, “Do you think you’ll love our baby more than Hannah’s?” Without even looking up, Evan replied, “Of course I will. This is my first son. “Besides, you’re young and beautiful. There’s no way her baby could compare to ours.”

I never knew it was possible to feel so disgusted by someone that it could make you physically sick. Doubling over, I barely made it to the trash can before I started vomiting uncontrollably. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Sofia and Evan walking in my direction, laughing as they talked. Panicked, I ducked behind the trash can, crouching low to avoid being seen. “I don’t know how you’re so sure it’s a boy,” Sofia said in a playful, teasing tone. “What if it’s a girl?” Evan chuckled softly. “Then I’ll love her too. A little girl who’s sweet, gentle, and as beautiful as her mom? I’d be the luckiest man alive.” Sofia giggled, her laugh high-pitched and flirtatious. “You’re such a charmer. But… I’m scared, Evan. What if, once her baby is born, you don’t have time for me and our little one anymore?” Evan’s voice was calm, reassuring. “Don’t worry. I’ve already thought it all through. Tomorrow, Mason will help you move to the house in Seaside. “From now on, I’ll tell her I’m traveling for work. That’ll give me at least two weeks every month to be with you.” Sofia squealed with excitement, and the two of them climbed into his car, laughing and chatting like they didn’t have a care in the world. I stayed crouched behind the trash can long after they left, trembling as tears blurred my vision. The crumpled ultrasound report I’d been clutching in my hand was now a mess of smudged ink and torn paper. I stared at it, suddenly thankful that I’d decided to come to the hospital alone today—thinking I’d been “saving Evan the trouble” because of how hard he’d been working recently. If I hadn’t… I would’ve never seen this with my own eyes. I would’ve kept living like an idiot, oblivious to the betrayal right in front of me. But Evan… if you love her so much, why did you beg me to stay? Why didn’t you just divorce me? I didn’t get home until late that night. By then, Evan had called me dozens of times, but I ignored every single one. The moment I walked through the door, he rushed over and pulled me into a tight hug, his face full of worry. “Hannah! Where were you? I’ve been going crazy looking for you!” “I went to the hospital,” I said flatly. Evan froze, his expression shifting to one of nervousness. He glanced at me, choosing his words carefully. “What time did you go? Which hospital? Why didn’t you call me?” “The General Hospital,” I replied. “You’ve been so busy lately, I didn’t want to bother you.” He visibly relaxed, letting out a small sigh of relief. They’d gone to the women’s health clinic. “How did it go? What did the doctor say?” he asked, his voice filled with concern. “You… don’t look too good. Is everything okay?” I hesitated for a moment, then said, “The doctor said… there’s a chance I might lose the baby.” I watched his face closely as I spoke, searching for any trace of genuine emotion. Evan looked surprised but not devastated. He quickly pulled me into his arms and whispered, “It’s okay, baby. You’re the only one that matters to me.” His words made me feel like my heart was being ripped apart. I wanted to scream, to slap him, to make him feel even a fraction of the pain I was feeling. It was clear he didn’t care about this baby at all. Why would he, when he already had another child on the way—one he was excited for, one he actually wanted? I couldn’t keep up the act any longer. Pushing him away, I muttered something about being tired and locked myself in the bedroom. Later that evening, Evan knocked on the door, calling me out for dinner. I couldn’t stand to see his face, so I pretended to be asleep. Not long after, I heard him step out of the room. A few minutes later, his phone rang, and he quickly left the house. The second the door closed, I got up, grabbed my keys, and followed him. I tailed him to a flower shop, where he bought a bouquet of roses. Then he stopped by a mall to pick up a designer handbag, followed by a bakery where he grabbed a box of desserts. Finally, he drove to his destination—our home. Our marital home. I gripped the steering wheel so tightly that my knuckles turned white. My chest felt tight, my stomach churned, and I thought I was going to be sick again. Never in my worst nightmares did I imagine he would let her live in the house we built together. This wasn’t just any house. It was the first home we ever shared. The one I bought with the money I earned from selling my parents’ old home and working endless nights on freelance projects. I’d gifted it to him as a wedding present—a symbol of our love, a foundation for our future. Even after he became successful—after he bought bigger, fancier properties—this house remained untouched. He always said it was special, a testament to our love and the sacrifices we’d made for each other. And now, he’d brought her here. The woman carrying his child. He let her trample over everything that house represented. Over me. That night, I didn’t go inside. I sat in my car, parked in front of the house, and watched. Watched as the lights turned on and off. As they laughed and moved around inside. As they made themselves at home. It felt like I was punishing myself for being so blind, for believing in him for so long. I told myself that by staying here, facing this brutal reality, I could finally break free. The next morning, just as the sun was rising, Evan stepped out of the house looking refreshed and happy. Sofia was right behind him, practically glowing as she followed him to his car. She stood on her tiptoes to adjust his tie, her voice soft and affectionate as she spoke to him. He leaned forward slightly, smiling at her, his hands free so he could type a message on his phone. A moment later, my phone buzzed. I picked it up and saw his text: *”There’s an issue with a big contract at work. I’ve been tied up all night and probably won’t be home until late. Take care of yourself and make sure you eat. Love you, babe.”*

That nauseating feeling surged up again, and no matter how hard I tried to suppress it, I couldn’t stop myself from throwing up. This man… he was disgusting. So disgusting. After Evan drove off, Sofia hummed a cheerful tune as she walked upstairs. I stayed in the car for a while, trying to steady myself. My face was pale, but I forced some color back with a swipe of lipstick before stepping out. I walked up to the door and knocked. Sofia answered with a smile, muttering playfully, “What, did you forget something agai—” Her words trailed off the moment she saw me. Her smile didn’t falter, though. In fact, it widened, filled with mockery and malice. She looked me up and down, completely unbothered, and said in a sweet yet venomous tone: “Well, well, it’s you. I guess you found your way here. Why don’t you come in and take a look around?” She stepped aside, gesturing for me to enter, as if she were the rightful lady of the house. That smug, self-assured look on her face—it was as if I were the other woman here, nothing more than an unwelcome intruder. My chest tightened, my breathing grew uneven, but my heart… it felt dead. Hollow. I walked inside, numb, stepping into what I once believed was the happiest place in the world for Evan and me. And yet, everywhere I looked, there were reminders of them. Matching slippers by the door. Coordinated pajamas draped over the bedroom chair. A pair of toothbrushes on the bathroom counter, arranged in a way that formed a heart. It was all so domestic. So intimate. Sofia didn’t bother following me. She didn’t need to. She stayed by the fresh bouquet of flowers Evan had given her, lazily arranging them as she sneered over her shoulder. “Why put yourself through this?” she said, her voice dripping with contempt. “The moment you decided to forgive him, you should’ve known. To Evan, you’re just a woman with no boundaries. “In his mind, as long as he doesn’t divorce you, you’ll keep forgiving him. You’ll keep tolerating him. “Go ahead, confront him. He’ll just apologize, spin some pretty lie, and make you believe he’s sorry. And you? You’ll forgive him again. Because you don’t have a choice. “I mean, look at you. At your age, where else are you going to find a husband as rich as him? “You think you’re better than me, but the truth is, we’re the same.” The same? Her words felt like poison in my veins. I wanted to scream. I wanted to rip that smug expression off her face. I thought about Evan and me, about everything we’d been through. We met when we were young—too young. For him, I sacrificed my career, worked endless hours, and supported him while he built his business from nothing. Sure, he made it big, but he couldn’t have done it without me. And this woman… she had the audacity to claim we were the same? But the confidence in her voice—it was unshakable. And deep down, I knew why. She believed it because Evan had told her so. In that moment, something in me clicked. I realized I’d been wrong all along. I forgave him because I loved him. Because I thought he loved me, too. But to him, my forgiveness wasn’t about love. It was about convenience. This man, this relationship we’d built over more than a decade—it had all rotted into something vile and toxic. Without another word, I walked past Sofia, ignoring the venom in her gaze, and entered the living room. That’s when I saw it. Hanging on the wall was a massive photo. A wedding portrait. In the picture, Sofia wore a diamond-studded wedding gown, her hand resting delicately on Evan’s chest as he held her close. The two of them stood against the backdrop of Santorini’s iconic blue and white cliffs. The image practically screamed luxury and extravagance. I thought I was numb, thought I couldn’t feel anything anymore. But the sight of that photo hit me like a dagger to the chest. Once, that wall had held our wedding photo. Ours was nothing like this one. We couldn’t afford anything extravagant back then. We didn’t even hire a photographer. Our photo had been taken on a beach, using a cheap tripod and a timer. I wore a simple white dress and a borrowed veil. It wasn’t fancy, but it was ours. It was real. Now, it was gone. Replaced by this. I forced myself to stay calm. My hands shook as I pulled out my phone and snapped a picture of the portrait. For the first time in a long time, my mind felt clear. Rotten things belonged in the trash. Evan and Sofia had been living together long enough to establish what was essentially a common-law marriage. I had all the evidence I needed. I’d take this to a lawyer. Make sure neither of them got away with anything. Sofia noticed me taking the photo. Her smugness cracked for a moment, replaced by panic. She lunged forward, one hand protectively cradling her belly, the other reaching for my phone. I stepped aside, but as I moved, she shoved me hard, sending me crashing into the coffee table. Pain exploded through my body as I hit the corner of the table. Almost immediately, I felt a warm, wet sensation between my legs. Blood. Sofia’s expression shifted, her eyes flashing with something dark and twisted. I collapsed to the floor, clutching my stomach as waves of pain radiated through me. My hand fumbled for my phone, desperate to call for help. Even if Evan didn’t want this baby, it was still mine. I couldn’t lose it. I wouldn’t. Sofia laughed cruelly, her voice filled with malice. As I reached for my phone, she stomped on my hand, grinding her heel into my fingers. The pain was excruciating. I screamed, tears streaming down my face. And then I heard it—a soft beep, followed by the sound of the front door unlocking. Someone was coming in. I looked up, dazed and barely conscious, and saw Evan standing in the doorway. He was back.

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The plush mattress dipped slightly under the weight of someone sitting down. The sound of labored breathing beside her told Olivia Brown that Adam Grant was finally home. Judging by the smell of bourbon on his breath, he must have had a few too many drinks at the corporate gala tonight. Adam was unusually restless—his rough hands were already tugging impatiently at the straps of her silk nightgown. But for the first time in their five years of marriage, Olivia didn’t give in. She gently pushed his hands away and spoke softly: “Adam, I’m tired.” Her voice was calm, but firm. Adam froze for a moment, his breath hitching in surprise. Then, with a low, irritated grunt, he turned over and said nothing more. In the darkness, Olivia blinked back the tears that welled in her eyes, wiping them away before they could fall. She swallowed the lump in her throat, forcing down the tide of frustration and sadness. The truth was, Olivia had known from the very beginning that Adam didn’t love her. Their marriage had never been about love. Years ago, it had been Adam’s grandfather, Jacob Grant, who insisted on the union. Jacob had always been grateful to Olivia’s grandfather, who had saved his life decades ago, and he honored that debt by arranging a marriage between their grandchildren. Adam was the only son of the wealthy and powerful Grant family—a name that carried weight across the entire Pacific Northwest. Olivia, on the other hand, was no one special. She was just a poor girl from a small town, scraping by on scholarships and part-time jobs to get through college. She wouldn’t have even finished her degree if the Grant family hadn’t stepped in and sponsored her education. And when the time came, she married Adam without hesitation. Even though she knew he didn’t care for her, she had no regrets. Not because of the marriage contract, but because she’d fallen in love with him at first sight. From the moment they got married, Olivia threw herself into being the perfect wife. She learned how to cook Adam’s favorite meals, memorized his schedule, and made sure every detail of his life ran smoothly. She believed, deep down, that if she worked hard enough and loved him long enough, he would eventually love her back. But after five years of marriage, Adam’s feelings for her remained as cold and distant as ever. The final blow came just a few weeks ago. That day, Olivia had been feeling particularly low and decided to distract herself by tidying Adam’s study. While dusting the shelves, she accidentally knocked over a small wooden box that he usually kept locked away. As the lid creaked open, her breath caught in her throat. Inside, there were dozens of photographs of Adam and a woman named Hannah Wright—pictures that spanned years, from childhood to adulthood. The most recent one had been taken just last week when Hannah returned to the States. In the photo, Adam stood close to Hannah, his arm casually draped over her shoulder. His usually stoic expression was replaced with something Olivia had never seen before—softness, warmth, and the faintest hint of a smile. Hannah, meanwhile, wore a delicate necklace Olivia immediately recognized: The Desert Star. It was the same necklace Adam had once promised to buy for Olivia as a birthday gift. That was the moment Olivia realized the truth. Adam wasn’t incapable of love—he just didn’t love her. It was also the moment Olivia decided she couldn’t keep living like this. She had to leave him. The next morning, Adam woke up with a pounding headache. He pressed a hand to his temple, his voice hoarse as he asked, “Where’s my hangover cure?” Olivia froze for a moment before responding. The herbal remedy had been something she’d painstakingly learned to make after consulting with an old family recipe. It required hours of preparation—she used to wake up at 3 a.m. just to make sure it was ready for him in time. But lately, she had been too busy consulting with attorneys and planning her exit to bother with such things. “…Oh, I’m sorry,” she said quietly. “I forgot.” Adam frowned, the irritation clear on his face. He pulled on his suit jacket, his tone clipped and dismissive as he said, “I won’t be home for dinner tonight. There’s a client meeting.” In the past, Olivia would have fussed over him, gently scolding him to take care of himself and not overwork. But now, she simply nodded, continuing to eat her breakfast without saying a word. Adam barely noticed her indifference. To him, these morning exchanges were just a routine—a formality he tolerated out of obligation. He assumed Olivia’s role as his wife meant she was always there, quietly supporting him in the background, no matter what. Normally, Olivia would have rushed through breakfast so she could help him with his tie, straighten his jacket, and polish his shoes before he left for work. Her own breakfast would go cold on the table, often left uneaten. She even developed chronic stomach issues from neglecting herself like this. But Adam had never noticed. Today, though, she took her time. She finished her meal slowly and deliberately, savoring every bite. She’d made up her mind: she wasn’t going to sacrifice herself for this marriage anymore. For five years, she had lived in a constant state of anxiety, always trying to win Adam’s approval, always hoping for a love that would never come. But now, she was done. It was time to let go of the marriage that had done nothing but drain her of joy.

By the time Olivia finalized the divorce terms with her lawyer, the sun was already setting. Her stomach churned uncomfortably, a sharp, familiar pain she was used to ignoring. Hoping to settle her nerves, she wandered into a newly opened dessert café, absently running her fingers over the stack of legal documents in her lap. That’s when she saw him. Adam. He was walking in with Hannah, her hand playfully tugging on his arm. Though Adam’s expression carried a hint of impatience, his eyes betrayed a warmth and tenderness Olivia hadn’t seen in years. Adam Grant—who couldn’t stand overly sweet foods, who used to wrinkle his nose at the sight of her carefully chosen birthday cakes—was now willingly stepping into a dessert shop, all for Hannah. The sight of them together hit Olivia like a knife to the chest. A sharp, searing pain she couldn’t ignore. She drew in a shaky breath, her fingers tightening around the documents as she tried to steady herself. The waiter had just placed her order on the table—it was a chestnut cake, her favorite—but before she could lift her fork, she heard a sharp voice echo through the café. “What do you mean there’s no more chestnut cake?” It was Hannah. Her tone was loud, entitled, full of irritation. “I came here specifically for that cake!” she snapped, glaring at the waiter with barely concealed contempt. “How can you not have it? Don’t you know who I am?” The waiter tried to remain polite, though his face showed clear discomfort. “I’m very sorry, ma’am,” he explained. “We only use imported ingredients, and we have a limited supply each day. I’m afraid we’ve already sold out.” Hannah scoffed, crossing her arms. “Then make more! I’ll pay ten times the price if I have to. I’m not leaving without it.” The waiter hesitated, looking helpless. Olivia, meanwhile, had quietly picked up her fork and was about to take a bite of her cake when a familiar voice interrupted her. “Excuse me, miss,” Adam said from across the room. Olivia froze, her hand hovering mid-air. “My friend just got back to the U.S.,” Adam continued smoothly, his voice polite but firm. “And it’s her birthday today. She’s been looking forward to that chestnut cake for weeks. Would you mind letting us have it? I’ll pay twenty times the price if necessary.” Olivia’s chest tightened, her breath catching in her throat. Five years of marriage. Five years of sitting across from him at the same table, sharing the same life. And now, here he was, standing just a few feet away, unable to recognize even the back of her head. It was both absurd and heartbreaking. Adam’s request hung in the air, and Olivia slowly looked up. When their eyes met, Adam froze. For a moment, guilt flickered across his face, but he quickly masked it. Olivia, pale and visibly thinner than before, offered him a small, understanding smile. She carefully pushed the plate of chestnut cake toward him, her voice calm and composed. “I understand,” she said softly. “It’s just a birthday celebration for a friend. I get it.” Adam opened his mouth, as though to say something, but before he could speak, Hannah’s voice rang out again, sharp and impatient: “Adam! What are you doing over there?” Olivia ignored Hannah’s interruption, her eyes still on Adam. She reached for the documents in her lap and held them out to him with a steady hand. “By the way,” she said, her tone light, almost casual, “I’ve been looking at this small beach house. I thought it’d be perfect for a little vacation someday.” She smiled faintly. “Consider this cake my thank-you for signing the papers.” Adam frowned slightly, glancing down at the legal documents. Olivia pressed the papers closer. “Oh, and one more thing,” she added with a trace of bitterness. “You still owe me a birthday gift this year.” Adam hesitated, glancing between the cake and the papers. Maybe it was guilt, or maybe it was Hannah’s impatient glare boring into his back, but after a brief pause, he took the pen Olivia had placed on the table and signed his name on the last page. Without another word, he picked up the plate of cake and returned to Hannah, who was waiting with a triumphant smile. Olivia exhaled slowly, her shoulders slumping as the tension left her body. Her fingers trembled as she picked up the signed papers, clutching them tightly. It was done. She had finally taken the first step toward leaving Adam behind. But the adrenaline from the encounter left her feeling lightheaded. Olivia stood on shaky legs, her knees weak as she made her way toward the exit. She barely made it to the door before her vision blurred and her body gave out. She collapsed onto the cold pavement just outside the café. Her ears rang, muffling the concerned murmurs of the people around her. She tried to get up, but her body wouldn’t cooperate. The world around her spun, and then everything went black. In the haze of unconsciousness, Olivia vaguely felt herself being lifted. Strong arms carried her, jostling slightly as they rushed to… somewhere. Her mind, foggy and disoriented, drifted toward a familiar thought. It must be Adam, she thought faintly. How inconvenient… ruining his date with Hannah just before the divorce. And with that, she let herself slip further into the dark.

When Olivia woke up in the hospital, it was already hours later. A young woman sitting nearby noticed she was awake and immediately called for a nurse. Olivia’s head felt foggy, her thoughts a jumbled mess. Instinctively, she asked: “Where’s Adam?” The girl paused, blinking in confusion. “Adam? Who’s Adam?” Only then did Olivia realize—it wasn’t Adam who had brought her here. “You fainted outside the dessert café,” the girl explained with a friendly smile. “I was passing by and figured I’d better get you to the hospital.” Olivia hadn’t expected a complete stranger to help her. Feeling embarrassed and grateful, she quickly thanked the girl and reached for her phone, intending to pay her back for covering the medical expenses. But when she saw her phone, its screen was completely shattered. “Don’t worry about it,” the girl said cheerfully. “I live nearby. I’ll give you my contact info—just pay me back once you’ve had your phone fixed.” She scribbled her number on a piece of paper and handed it to Olivia before glancing at her own phone with a start. “Oh no, I’ve gotta go! My mom’s been texting me nonstop to come home!” Before Olivia could say much else, the girl rushed out, leaving behind the scrap of paper with her name: Luna Young. It was such a soft, pretty name. Olivia repeated it quietly to herself with a faint smile. But her fleeting moment of calm disappeared when her eyes caught the time on the bedside clock. It was already 11 p.m. She suddenly remembered something Adam had said years ago, before they got married: “I don’t like women who stay out late.” Those words had stayed with her, shaping her habits for the past five years. Unless she was at an event with Adam, she had made sure to never return home after 8 p.m. But now… now things were different. She lowered her gaze, letting the memory fade. Even so, Olivia got dressed and prepared to leave. Divorce or not, she didn’t want Adam to suspect anything unusual. By the time she got home, the house was dark and quiet, except for one person waiting for her in the living room. Adam. He was sitting there, his expression sharp and disapproving. “Where were you?” he demanded. “Why didn’t you answer my texts?” There was a note of concern in his voice, but it was buried under layers of irritation. “You’re my wife, Olivia. Wandering around in the middle of the night—what were you thinking?” He waited, fully expecting her to apologize as she usually would. But Olivia simply blinked at him, her voice calm as she replied: “You texted me?” “What did you send? My phone’s screen is broken—I couldn’t see anything.” Adam frowned and pulled out his own phone, scrolling to show her the message he had sent when she fainted: “Was it low blood sugar? Go home and rest.” So, he had noticed something was wrong. He had sent her a message. But instead of helping her, he’d been busy spending his evening with someone else. Olivia’s chest tightened, a cold, sinking feeling spreading through her. She forced a smile, but her eyes drifted to his phone screen, where new messages were popping up one after another. They were from Hannah. “Adam, my friends threw me a welcome-back dinner, but they’re insisting I bring someone with me. Can you come?” Olivia lowered her gaze, pretending not to notice as Adam picked up his phone and typed out a reply. The ache in her heart grew sharper, but she kept her expression steady. “Adam,” she said softly, her voice tinged with quiet hope, “can we visit your grandparents tomorrow? They’ve been asking about us.” Adam hesitated, his jaw tightening. The room fell silent, the tension thick enough to feel. Taking a deep breath, he finally muttered: “I’ll let them know. Work’s been really busy… I can’t make it.” Olivia’s heart sank, but she quickly masked her disappointment with a practiced smile. “That’s okay,” she said gently, always the one to smooth things over. Adam seemed relieved, even grateful for her understanding. He lifted a hand toward her, as if to brush aside a stray strand of her hair, but Olivia instinctively stepped back, avoiding his touch. His hand froze in mid-air before he awkwardly pulled it back. Clearing his throat, he said quietly: “I’ll have the housekeeper handle your phone tomorrow. Next time… next time, I’ll go with you to visit them.” Next time? No, Adam. There won’t be a next time. But Olivia just nodded, silently reaching to loosen his tie as she had done so many times before. Her hands trembled slightly, but she kept her movements steady. “You know,” Adam said suddenly, his voice low, “that house contract you signed today—bring it here. Let me double-check it. You’re inexperienced with this stuff. I don’t want you getting scammed.” Her hands froze mid-motion, her heart pounding hard in her chest. She could feel her pulse in her fingertips, the nervous tremor betraying her calm exterior. Adam noticed her hesitation and opened his mouth to ask something, but before he could, his phone buzzed loudly. The screen lit up with Hannah’s name. “Adam, I think I caught a cold. Can you come help me figure out this hospital stuff? I don’t remember how any of it works here.” Her playful, whiny tone carried through the speaker as Adam read the message. His brow furrowed, but he quickly stood, glancing at Olivia with an apologetic look. “Hannah’s sick,” he explained. “Her family’s all overseas. I should go help her.” For a moment, he lingered, as though waiting for some kind of reaction. But Olivia simply smiled, her voice warm and even. “Go ahead,” she said. “A girl all alone with no family nearby… it’s only right someone helps her.” Olivia barely slept that night. Her stomach pain had worsened, keeping her awake until dawn. By morning, the housekeeper had already delivered a replacement phone, and Olivia quickly sent Luna the payment for her hospital expenses. After tidying up, she packed a small gift and left the house to visit Adam’s grandparents. They had always been kind to her, urging her and Adam to cherish their marriage. They had even given her the family’s heirloom jade bracelet as a symbol of trust and blessing. This time, Olivia planned to quietly return it. But on the way, her driver accidentally hit someone with the car. To her shock, it was Luna—the same girl who had helped her just the day before.

“…I’m so sorry. I didn’t expect my driver to be so careless…” Luna’s injuries weren’t serious—just a few scrapes and bruises. She had insisted on a quick bandage and nothing more, but Olivia wouldn’t hear of it. She firmly pressed for a full medical examination. “Seriously, I told you I’m fine,” Luna protested, waving her hand dismissively. “You’re making a big deal out of nothing—” Her words faltered when she turned to look at Olivia, whose face had gone ghostly pale. Luna’s expression tightened with alarm. “Olivia… is it your stomach again?!” Olivia’s condition had worsened. Her chronic stomach issues had reached a critical point, and the doctor was stern as he delivered his instructions. “You need to be admitted immediately,” he said. “We’ll monitor your condition and decide whether surgery is necessary.” Under normal circumstances, this was something you’d call family about. But Olivia’s family lived hundreds of miles away, and her marriage to Adam had left her isolated. His social circle, his status—it had all created invisible walls that kept her from forming close friendships in the city. Left with no choice, she called Adam. Ten times. Not a single call went through. Of course, she thought bitterly. He’s with Hannah. Probably too busy to even glance at his phone. She lowered the phone, her fingers tightening around it. I shouldn’t have called so many times. I should’ve known better. “Your husband’s not coming, is he?” Luna, who had been sitting nearby, furrowed her brows, her frustration evident on her face. She hesitated, as though holding back harsher words, but the look in her eyes made it clear she was angrier than Olivia herself. Olivia, on the other hand, seemed calm. She set the phone down and, with a faint smile, slipped the wedding ring off her finger. “We’re almost divorced,” she said softly. “Not being able to reach him… well, that’s to be expected.” Luna fell silent, though her frown deepened. It was the doctor who spoke next, his tone blunt but not unkind. “You’re still wearing the ring, so I assume you’re in the waiting period before the divorce is finalized? Once you get in touch with him, make sure he comes to sign the paperwork.” Olivia forced a small, polite smile, but her mind was elsewhere. Five years of marriage. Five years of sacrifices. And for what? She thought about all the ways she had tried to take care of Adam. How she had learned to cook his favorite meals, only to ruin her own health by skipping meals herself. How she’d studied tirelessly to fit into his world, mingling with the wives of CEOs and senators, only for Adam to take his secretary—or worse, Hannah—to every gala. She thought about the time she had spent hours baking him a birthday cake, only for Adam to wrinkle his nose and throw it in the trash. “I hate cake,” he’d said coldly. Her stomach issues had been plaguing her for four years now. Adam hadn’t even noticed. And now, sitting in this sterile hospital room, Olivia couldn’t think of a single moment where Adam had made her feel cared for. Not one. Adam wasn’t coming. After a long silence, Luna spoke up, her voice cutting through Olivia’s thoughts. “I’ll sign for her,” she said to the doctor. The doctor raised an eyebrow. “You’re her friend?” “Yes,” Luna said firmly. The doctor nodded, his expression softening with quiet sympathy. “Honestly, that’s probably for the best. If her husband can’t even be reached when she’s this sick, he’s not much use anyway. Having a friend by her side is worth more than a husband like that.” Luna smiled at Olivia, her confidence unwavering. “Don’t worry. I’ll stay with you.” Luna worked remotely as a freelance writer, so she had the flexibility to balance work while keeping an eye on Olivia. Between her cheerful presence and easygoing nature, she was a comforting distraction from the ache in Olivia’s chest. It wasn’t until three days later that Adam finally realized Olivia was in the hospital. He arrived in a hurry, his face a mix of worry and irritation. But the first words out of his mouth were sharp, cutting straight to the point: “Why didn’t you tell me you were sick?” The accusatory tone hung in the air, and Adam seemed to realize his mistake. He cleared his throat and softened his voice, adding, “You should’ve called me. I could’ve arranged for a private doctor. There’s no reason for you to be in a public hospital. What if the press finds out? It could damage the company’s image.” Olivia stared at him, stunned by the sheer absurdity of his words. For a moment, she thought about explaining. About telling him how many times she had called, how she had waited and waited, only to be met with silence. But instead, she let out a quiet, humorless laugh. “Weren’t you busy taking care of Hannah?” she said, her voice calm but laced with bitterness. “And the company’s been keeping you so busy lately. I didn’t want to add to your stress.” Adam’s expression shifted. A flicker of guilt crossed his features as he reached out, his calloused hand covering hers. But as his thumb brushed her skin, he froze. His eyes fell to her left hand. “You took off your ring?” he asked, his voice low, almost disbelieving.

Adam’s expression darkened, his voice carrying a sharp edge that made Olivia’s stomach twist with unease. Perhaps she didn’t even realize it herself, but deep down, she was terrified of her husband. Her lips parted as if to speak, but the excuses she had rehearsed in her mind refused to come out. The tense, suffocating silence was broken by Luna, who walked into the hospital room carrying a bowl of freshly washed fruit. Her cheerful voice shattered the awkward atmosphere like a hammer on glass. “Oh, Mr. Grant!” she said brightly. “Olivia’s been on IV drips for days now, and her hands have been swelling a lot. The doctor made her take off her ring.” She lied so smoothly, not even blinking, as she pulled a small ring box from her bag and waved it in Adam’s direction. “And who’s this?” Adam’s eyes shifted sharply from Luna to Olivia, his tone clipped and demanding. Olivia forced herself to suppress the knot of anxiety in her chest and managed a weak, strained smile. “She’s my friend,” Olivia said softly. “She’s been taking care of me these past few days.” Adam’s brow furrowed slightly, a flicker of disdain crossing his face. His posture, his expression—it all exuded an air of quiet arrogance. “I thought,” he said slowly, his tone dripping with condescension, “that after all these years, you would’ve learned how to make friends more… appropriate to our circle.” He stopped himself before saying more, his gaze lingering on Olivia’s pale, tired face. For once, he swallowed his words. “Never mind. We’ll talk when you’re feeling better,” he said finally, his tone softening just a fraction. “I’ll pick you up when you’re discharged.” But Olivia knew he wouldn’t come. He had said the same thing so many times before, only to cancel at the last minute, always with some excuse about work or another obligation. It was a lie for fools, an empty promise meant to pacify. And while Olivia was no fool, she had long since grown used to his indifference. As Adam walked out the door, his tall figure disappearing down the hallway, Olivia and Luna both exhaled deeply, as if they had been holding their breaths the entire time. But they didn’t get a moment to recover before a voice—sharp, mocking, and unmistakably hostile—echoed through the room. “So, you’re the little country girl everyone’s been talking about. Olivia, isn’t it?” Hannah strutted into the hospital room, her stiletto heels clicking against the floor with every step. She pulled off her oversized designer sunglasses, her cat-like eyes scanning Olivia from head to toe with an expression of thinly veiled contempt. “Hmm,” she scoffed, tilting her head. “Not much to look at, are you? I don’t see what the fuss is about.” “If I were you,” Hannah continued with a smirk, “I’d hurry up and divorce Adam. Who knows—you might get lucky and walk away with a decent settlement while he’s still feeling generous.” She let out a mocking laugh, her voice dripping with cruelty. “Oh, but then again, women like you probably know all the tricks, don’t you? I heard Adam bought you a house recently. Impressive, really. You’ve got quite the strategy, don’t you, sweetheart?” Luna’s face turned bright red with anger. She opened her mouth to fire back, but Olivia stopped her with a single glance—calm, composed, but with a storm brewing beneath the surface. “What’s your relationship with Adam?” Olivia asked quietly. The question was simple, but it cut through the air like a blade. Olivia knew how foolish it sounded—she already knew the answer. The looks, the whispers, the way Hannah paraded herself around—it was all painfully obvious. But she needed to hear it. She needed the confirmation, the final push to let go of this five-year marriage that had been built on nothing but her own one-sided devotion. Hannah’s laugh was sharp, biting. She tilted her head, her expression equal parts amused and patronizing. “Are you serious?” It was Luna who spoke next, her voice laced with sarcasm and venom. “Come on, Hannah. Don’t play dumb,” she said, her smile bright and biting. She reached up to touch the necklace around her neck—a necklace Olivia instantly recognized. It had been her birthday gift from Adam, something he had personally chosen for her. “See this?” Luna said, her voice dripping with mockery. “It used to belong to Olivia. Adam gave it to her for her birthday. But the moment I said I liked it, he gave it to me instead. Said it was a ‘fair trade’ for that jade bracelet you’re wearing—you know, the one from the Grant family heirloom collection?” She leaned forward slightly, her smile widening, her eyes alight with cruel humor. “So, what do you think? What’s my relationship with Adam?” The room went silent. After a long pause, Olivia let out a breath she didn’t realize she had been holding. Her lips curved into a faint, bitter smile. “It won’t be much longer,” she said quietly. “You’ll get what you want soon enough, Ms. Wright. I’ll be filing the divorce papers shortly. Consider it my parting gift.” Hannah’s eyes narrowed suspiciously, but after a moment, she shrugged, clearly unimpressed. “You’d better,” she said with a sneer. Then, wrinkling her nose in exaggerated disgust, she turned and strode out of the room, her heels clicking loudly against the floor. Luna watched her go, her fists clenched in anger. The moment the door closed, she let out a string of curses, punching the nearest pillow with frustration. “This is unbelievable!” she fumed. “A mistress barging in here to taunt you?! And Adam—what’s his deal? Talking like you’re some… some embarrassment to him? And that whole ‘appropriate friends’ crap—what the hell does that even mean?” But her outburst faded quickly. As much as she wanted to march after Hannah and give her a piece of her mind, she knew better. The Grant family’s power and influence were nothing to take lightly, and Luna had no intention of making things harder for Olivia. Olivia, for her part, simply smiled faintly, her eyes distant. She didn’t want to cause trouble for Luna—or anyone else. She had endured enough.

The day Olivia was discharged from the hospital, the weather was rare for California—gray skies and steady rain. Even more surprising, Adam actually kept his word. He was waiting for her at the hospital entrance. Hannah, of course, was already in the passenger seat, casually touching up her lipstick in the mirror. Luna, unable to hold back her sarcasm, crossed her arms and said in a sweetly biting tone: “Olivia, you get carsick, right? Why don’t you sit up front where it’s more comfortable? Ms. Wright, maybe you could join me in the backseat instead?” Hannah’s laugh was soft and syrupy, her red-painted lips curving into a coquettish pout. She made a half-hearted motion to shift, but Adam quickly stepped in, his voice firm and protective: “Hannah gets carsick too. Plus, she’s used to sitting in the front. It’s raining, and shuffling around would just make things more complicated. Olivia, you don’t mind sitting in the back, do you?” Adam’s favoritism was as blatant as ever. When it came to Hannah, he didn’t even bother to hide it. Before Luna could escalate things, Olivia gently placed a hand on her arm, stopping her. Without a word, she climbed into the backseat. The ride was quiet. Luna, furiously typing on her phone, sent Olivia a string of angry texts about Adam and Hannah. Olivia, however, was lost in her own thoughts, silently counting down the days. Seven more days of the divorce waiting period. Just seven more days. I can get through this. But Hannah seemed determined to make even that short ride unbearable. She answered a call halfway through, and her voice instantly turned trembling and tearful: “Adam! It’s my brother… My brother just got back to the States, and now his heart condition’s acting up again!” Her voice cracked, and she sniffled dramatically. “His girlfriend just called me—she said his face turned blue! Adam, can you take me to the hospital? Please?” In the rearview mirror, Olivia could see Adam hesitate, his expression conflicted. Still, she already knew what he was going to say. Sure enough, he cleared his throat, his voice awkward as he spoke: “…Olivia, you and your friend should get out here.” “Life and death situations can’t wait. I need to take Hannah to the hospital.” Hannah. Always Hannah. The moment her name came up, Adam lost all sense of reason, turning into a man who would blindly drop everything for her. Olivia forced a small, fragile smile. The lump in her throat made it hard to speak, so she simply nodded. She took the umbrella Adam handed her, grabbed Luna’s arm, and stepped out of the car. The tires splashed muddy rainwater onto their legs as the car sped off, leaving them standing on the sidewalk, shivering in the cold drizzle. “…I’m sorry, Luna,” Olivia said, her voice laced with a bitter laugh. “I didn’t think it’d turn out like this.” She called the Grant family’s driver to come pick them up, but with the rain and traffic, it would take at least thirty minutes for him to arrive. “Guess you’re stuck getting drenched with me for a while.” As luck would have it, while the two of them huddled under the umbrella, a sleek black car pulled up beside them. The window rolled down, revealing Aria, one of Olivia’s acquaintances from a wealthy family. Aria blinked, clearly surprised to see them standing miserably in the rain. “Olivia? What on earth happened to you two?” After hearing the story of how Adam had ditched them to take Hannah’s brother to the hospital, Aria let out a scoff, her lips curling in disdain. “Hannah’s brother? Please. That idiot doesn’t have a heart condition—he’s as healthy as a horse.” Aria smirked, her tone dripping with mockery. “Besides, even if he did, wouldn’t calling an ambulance be faster than relying on Adam’s terrible driving?” She went on to explain that Hannah’s brother had pulled the “heart condition” stunt countless times as a kid, using it to prank their circle of friends. After one too many tricks, the group had retaliated by beating him up. Only then did he tearfully confess that he’d been faking it all along. “We’ve all known each other since we were kids,” Aria said with a knowing smirk. “Adam knows the truth perfectly well. He’s just an idiot when it comes to Hannah.” Her gaze softened as she looked at Olivia, sympathy flickering in her eyes. When they arrived at the Grant family’s estate, Aria gave Olivia a sly smile and added: “Let me know when the divorce goes through—I’ll take you out for champagne to celebrate.” She waved as Olivia stepped out of the car, then called out one last remark with a teasing grin: “And next time, pick a better guy, will you? Honestly, I remember Adam as a snot-nosed kid with his pants falling down. If you stay single, hit me up—I’ve got some cute friends I can introduce you to.” When Adam returned home that evening, he was greeted by the sight of suitcases neatly packed and stacked by the door. His brows furrowed as he stepped inside. “Where are you going?” he asked, his voice laced with suspicion. Olivia was busy overseeing the movers as they carried out the last of her belongings. She didn’t even look up when Adam entered, her focus entirely on her tasks. Calmly, she replied with the excuse she’d prepared in advance: “The house you ‘bought’ for me is ready. I’m sending my things there early, and I thought I’d take the chance to go on a little vacation.” Then, as if it were an afterthought, she added, “By the way… how’s Ms. Wright’s brother? Shouldn’t you still be at the hospital?” Adam cleared his throat, clearly uncomfortable. He muttered something about work and quickly retreated to his study. Olivia watched him go, her gaze cool and detached. The faintest flicker of amusement crossed her face as she turned back to her phone. A new message notification popped up—a photo, sent anonymously. The image showed Hannah clinging to Adam’s arm, her head tilted back in laughter. Adam was smiling too, his lips curved with warmth. A smear of chestnut-colored frosting lingered at the corner of his mouth, evidence of the cake they had clearly shared. Olivia stared at the photo for a long moment. She had seen this scene countless times before—Hannah’s possessive grip, Adam’s indulgent smile. No matter how many times she saw it, it never hurt any less.

In the end, Olivia returned to the old Grant family estate by herself. When Jacob and Grace saw her, thinner than ever, they immediately fussed over her with endless questions and heartfelt concern. Grace, Adam’s grandmother, was so angry that she pounded the armrest of the sofa, her voice trembling with frustration. “That ungrateful grandson of mine! Olivia, don’t you worry—his grandpa will make sure he pays for this. I’ll have him kneel on a washboard if I have to!” Though both of them were older now and far less robust than they had been in their younger years, their care for Olivia had not wavered in the slightest. Olivia felt a lump rise in her throat, her nose stinging with the urge to cry. But she held back the tears, forcing a warm, obedient smile onto her face. If there was anything left in this marriage that Olivia still cherished, it was these two people. She had come to Sea City nearly a decade ago, and ever since college, the elderly couple had treated her like family, supporting her as if she were their own granddaughter. But now, their health was failing, and with the younger generation busy running the family’s business empire, Olivia was the only one who visited them regularly. While they napped that afternoon, Olivia found an excuse to quietly return the jade bracelet Grace had gifted her back to its rightful place. She also went into the kitchen herself, handing over her carefully written notes on health supplements and recipes to the housekeeper. This was the last thing she could do for them. When she was about to leave, Grace held her hand tightly, her eyes filled with concern. “Take care of yourself, Olivia. Don’t just spend all your energy looking after Adam.” Olivia smiled and nodded, but just as she was about to step out, a familiar voice froze her in place. “Grandpa, Grandma—I’ve brought Hannah to see you.” Adam’s voice cut through the warm atmosphere like a knife. He hadn’t expected to see Olivia standing there, and for a moment, his expression faltered, an awkward look crossing his face. “Oh… you’re here too,” he said, avoiding her gaze. The once harmonious room fell silent, tension thick in the air. Olivia’s heart sank, but she kept the perfect smile on her face. She couldn’t let the elderly couple find out about Adam’s affair—not when the shock might affect their health. She couldn’t even imagine the consequences. So, swallowing her bitterness, Olivia stepped forward, slipping her arm through Adam’s as if nothing were wrong. She smiled warmly, assuming her role as the gracious hostess, welcoming their “guest.” Hannah, of course, toned down her usual arrogance in front of the elders, but she still couldn’t resist rolling her eyes at Olivia when no one was looking. Since Hannah was a guest, Olivia had no choice but to stay for dinner that evening. The grandparents weren’t particularly close to Hannah, who was supposedly the granddaughter of an old family friend, but they were polite enough. Hannah, with her sugary sweet words, managed to earn their mild approval. That was, until she “accidentally” knocked over the bowl of soup Olivia had been holding. The bowl tipped, and the steaming hot soup spilled onto Olivia’s hand and wrist, scalding her pale skin bright red. The pain was so intense that her vision blurred for a moment. Hannah’s hand had been splashed with a few drops of soup as well, and she immediately started whimpering, tears welling up in her eyes as she turned to Adam. “It hurts so much, Adam!” she sniffled, clutching his arm for comfort. Jacob’s face darkened as he watched his favorite grandson, seemingly oblivious, rush to Hannah’s side to help her run her hand under cold water. Meanwhile, Olivia sat quietly, her hand trembling from the pain, trying not to cry. Jacob and Grace had built the Grant family empire from the ground up, enduring countless hardships along the way. They weren’t fools, and Hannah’s obvious stunt didn’t escape their notice. The soup Olivia had been carrying wasn’t just any soup—it was a carefully prepared, nourishing dish meant for Jacob’s health. She had personally overseen its preparation, hoping to encourage him to eat more. She hadn’t expected Hannah to pull something like this. Grace placed a calming hand on Jacob’s arm, silently signaling him to stay composed. She then called for the housekeeper to bring ointment for Olivia’s burn. Her tone, however, was icy as she turned to Hannah. “All right, that’s enough for today.” Grace’s voice carried a quiet authority. “Have the driver take Ms. Wright home. This is a family matter, and it’s not appropriate for outsiders to get involved.” “Kneel!” Jacob’s cane struck the floor with a sharp thud, his voice booming with fury. “Adam, what the hell is wrong with you?” “Is this how we raised you? Is this what the Grant family stands for?” His face red with anger, Jacob glared at Adam, trembling with rage. “I told you to take care of Olivia. And this is how you treat her?” Grace sat beside Olivia, gently blowing on her burned hand, her eyes red with unshed tears. Adam stood there, stiff and silent, as Jacob looked ready to strike him. “Grandpa, please don’t get upset,” Olivia said softly, stepping forward to steady the old man. “Adam’s usually very kind to me. Today… well, he was just worried about being a good host to Ms. Wright.” Her voice was calm, soothing, as she patted Jacob’s back, helping him catch his breath. It took some time, but eventually, his anger subsided, replaced by a heavy sigh. “Olivia, you’re too good for your own good,” Jacob said, his tone laced with regret. “If that boy pulls a stunt like this again, you come straight to me. I’ll make sure he regrets it.” “How’s your hand?” The question came unexpectedly as they sat in the car, the air between them thick with tension. For once, Adam broke the silence. “It’s fine,” Olivia replied curtly, her tone distant. “You shouldn’t take what happened today to heart,” Adam added, his voice hesitant. “Hannah… she didn’t mean it. She was sitting right next to me, and I just—reacted instinctively…” Olivia was too tired to care. The lingering pain from her surgery, her chronic stomach issues, and now the burn on her hand—it was all too much. She was utterly exhausted, physically and emotionally. “Adam,” she interrupted, her voice weary. “I’m really tired. Can we talk about this tomorrow?”

With the company matters finally settled, Adam had more free time on his hands. These days, he stayed at home under the pretense of “taking care of Olivia.” For Olivia, his sudden presence was more awkward than comforting. In their five years of marriage, Adam had never spent so much time with her. The looming thought of the divorce cooling-off period only made her want to avoid him even more. “I felt bad about what happened to your birthday gift last time,” Adam said one afternoon, his tone carrying a hint of apology. “So I had my assistant order a custom set of jewelry for you.” It was obvious that Jacob and Grace’s recent scolding had left Adam feeling guilty, and now he was trying to use jewelry as a way to make amends. But Olivia had never cared about material things. The sapphire necklace sparkled under the chandelier, its deep blue radiance as dazzling as the ocean. Olivia, however, lowered her gaze, hiding the flicker of disappointment in her eyes. She didn’t even like blue. Yet over the years, the few gifts Adam had given her were always blue. Because blue was Hannah’s favorite color. In every photo Olivia had seen, Hannah was dressed in blue—blue dresses, blue jewelry, blue accents everywhere. Olivia forced a small smile, glancing at her husband, who now stood in awkward silence. A bitter ache swelled in her chest. Adam was always like this around her—distant, formal, guarded. In the past, Olivia had tried to convince herself that Adam was just naturally reserved, that he treated everyone this way. But after seeing the way he acted around someone he truly cared about, she couldn’t lie to herself anymore. “…Tomorrow, wear this jewelry and come to the gala with me,” Adam finally said, the words seemingly dragged out of him. There was a hint of reluctance in his eyes. Of course. If it weren’t for Jacob’s repeated admonishments, Olivia wouldn’t have been invited to this gala at all. To Adam, Olivia was someone who didn’t belong in the spotlight. She stared at him for a long moment before nodding. This will be the last time, she thought to herself. She needed to see if her husband could keep just one promise to her. But in the end, Adam broke his promise again. The phone call came hours before the event. Adam’s voice on the other end sounded frantic. “Hannah fell down the stairs and twisted her ankle,” he said. “I need to take her to the hospital.” There was a pause, then the hurried conclusion: “You go to the gala by yourself.” Before Olivia could respond, the call ended. She stared at the mirror, her reflection flawless, her makeup immaculate. But her heart felt cold and numb. The first time she was to attend a gala as Adam’s wife, and he abandoned her to go to the hospital for Hannah’s sprained ankle. He knew, of course, what people would say. He knew how awkward it would be for her to attend alone, how the whispers about their marriage would spread like wildfire. But none of that mattered—not compared to Hannah’s minor injury. The makeup artists exchanged uncertain glances. One of them finally worked up the courage to ask, “Mrs. Grant… should we stop here?” Even they knew how humiliating it was for her to show up alone to an event like this. Olivia let out a soft, humorless laugh, her lips curving into a faintly mocking smile. But her voice remained calm. “Continue.” She pulled out her phone and sent a quick message to Luna. “Everything going smoothly? Are you settling into the new place?” Luna’s reply came almost instantly. She reassured Olivia that everything was ready and waiting for the divorce cooling-off period to end. At the gala, Olivia was surrounded by a small group of women—socialites and wives who were familiar with her situation. They treated her kindly, offering sympathy rather than judgment. “Forget about Adam for tonight,” one of the women said, giving her a playful wink. “Since you’re here, you might as well enjoy yourself.” She gestured toward the lavish display of desserts. “The pastries are amazing—you’ll love them.” Olivia smiled politely and sipped her grape juice. Across the room, she caught sight of Aria, who raised her glass in a silent toast. Aria sauntered over, her lips curling into a mischievous smile. “So,” she said lightly, “have you decided?” Olivia nodded, her expression calm as she clinked her glass against Aria’s. “The rights to Fallen Angel are yours,” Olivia said evenly. “But the price…” “Don’t worry,” Aria interrupted with a radiant grin. “The price is negotiable. Consider it my little gift to celebrate your divorce from that idiot Adam.” Adam didn’t come home for four or five days after the gala. He was still busy “taking care of” Hannah. Olivia didn’t mind. His absence gave her room to breathe. On the day before the divorce cooling-off period ended, Olivia received the agreed-upon $500,000 from the sale of the copyright. She spent the day quietly packing her belongings and leaving the cold, lifeless house behind. She didn’t take anything Adam had given her—not the jewelry, not the clothes, not even the house itself. As her taxi pulled away from the estate, it passed by Adam’s black car. For a brief moment, their vehicles crossed paths. Olivia picked up her phone and sent the text she had written earlier. “Adam, today marks the end of the divorce cooling-off period. I’ve already moved out of the house.” “I originally wanted to tell you this in person, but since you’re busy taking care of Hannah, I figured this method was more convenient.” “The divorce papers are on the coffee table in the living room. Don’t worry—I didn’t take anything from the Grant family. I only packed my clothes and left with nothing else.”

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It was my boyfriend Gavin’s birthday, and he was completely wasted. Someone in the crowd started chanting, urging him to kiss me. But instead of leaning in, he stared at me with glassy, unfocused eyes and slurred out the wrong name. The room fell into an awkward, stunned silence. One of his buddies let out a nervous laugh, trying to diffuse the tension. “Mila, don’t take it to heart. Gavin’s had too much to drink. Chloe’s married, for God’s sake. There’s no way anything’s going on between them.” But Gavin wasn’t done. He drunkenly pushed my hand away, his voice loud enough for everyone to hear. “The only person I care about is Chloe,” he blurted out, swaying unsteadily. “If you didn’t look like her, do you really think I’d ever have dated you?” The humiliation hit like a slap. My vision blurred, but I refused to cry in front of them. Instead, I calmly turned around, stepped out of the room, and pulled out my phone. Dialing a familiar number, I spoke evenly into the receiver: “Mrs. Rhodes? I’ve decided to leave Gavin. You can transfer the million dollars now.” 0

My dad was the Rhodes family’s driver. After his sudden passing, they took me in as their foster daughter. By the time I got to college, I had become Gavin Rhodes’ girlfriend—the golden boy of the family. People around us whispered that I was a phoenix rising from the ashes, lucky to hold on to Gavin, my so-called golden ticket. To outsiders, he seemed like the perfect boyfriend. But I knew the truth—I was nothing more than a stand-in. When Mrs. Rhodes called to confirm my decision, I gave her a firm answer. She promised the money would be wired into my account the next day. She asked me to keep the arrangement confidential and gave me time to pack my things. Not that there was much to pack. I owned little of my own. Most of the clothes in my closet weren’t even my style, just things I had been given to wear to “fit in.” I folded my few favorite outfits, placed them carefully in a small suitcase, and zipped it shut. That’s when Gavin stumbled out of the bedroom, rubbing his eyes in irritation. He clicked his tongue, clearly annoyed. “Where are you running off to now? Back to the dorms? Or some budget motel?” Then, as if it was nothing, he shrugged and added: “What’s the big deal? I only mentioned Chloe. She’s not even back yet, so your ‘Mrs. Rhodes’ title is still safe for now.” But I didn’t want that title anymore. I was about to tell him I was leaving for good when his custom ringtone for Chloe started playing. His face lit up, and before I could say a word, he was racing back to the bedroom to answer her call. “Mila,” he said as he came rushing back out, excitement plastered all over his face. “Chloe’s coming home. I’m going to pick her up right now. Since you’ve already packed, just go stay in the guesthouse next door for now.” He tossed me a key without waiting for a response. I nodded calmly. “Sure.” For a moment, he looked surprised, even a little confused, before shaking it off. “It’s only temporary,” he said quickly. “Once Chloe’s settled, you can come back.” “No need,” I replied quietly. I didn’t explain further. I’d already applied to a prestigious university overseas and was waiting for my acceptance. 0

Gavin, assuming I was just sulking, didn’t press the issue. He left in a hurry to pick up Chloe, too preoccupied to notice the finality in my words. I, however, left the key on the couch, grabbed my luggage, and checked into a five-star hotel. For once, I could afford the luxury. The money Mrs. Rhodes promised had already hit my account. I planned to stay here until graduation, and then leave this city—leave Gavin and his “perfect” Chloe behind for good. But before I could even settle in, my phone buzzed. Gavin’s name lit up the screen. “Come to Golden Maple Estates,” he ordered the moment I picked up. “Chloe wants to see you. Be here in thirty minutes.” “I’m not interested,” I replied flatly. There was a pause, and his voice sharpened with irritation. “Mila, quit being so dramatic. Have I ever asked you for much? These past few years, I’ve paid for everything—your school, your clothes, your vacations. The least you can do is show up when I need you.” Before I could respond, he added coldly, “The driver’s on the way. Be downstairs.” The line went dead. I sighed and stared at the phone, its screen now blank. For the sake of keeping my agreement with Mrs. Rhodes, I reluctantly hailed a cab and headed to the estate. The moment I stepped into the private dining room, a cake flew straight at me. I didn’t have time to dodge—it hit me squarely in the chest, smearing frosting across my sleek black dress. Across the room, Chloe stood with a little boy at her side. She was wearing a strikingly similar black skirt, the kind that looked made for her. Feigning a scolding tone, she gently nudged the boy. “Sweetheart, apologize to the lady for throwing the cake.” But the boy just stuck out his tongue and sneered. “Bad woman! You’re copying my mom’s clothes! But you’re ugly, and you don’t look as good as her!” He wasn’t wrong. Chloe, with her effortless elegance and undeniable charm, wore the dress like it was made for her. Gavin, standing nearby, frowned slightly and motioned toward the bathroom with a tilt of his chin. “Mila, why are you wearing that? Go change into something else.” 0

Chloe gave a small, amused smile and said, “Gavin, don’t be so harsh. It’s just a dress. Anyone can wear it. If Mila likes it, let her keep it.” The words stung, not because of what she said, but because I knew the truth. Gavin had bought me this dress because it was a replica of hers. He’d gone out of his way to track it down after it sold out, even paying a ridiculous price to get it secondhand. I wiped most of the frosting off my skirt with a napkin and kept my head down. “It’s secondhand anyway. Now that it’s ruined, I might as well toss it.” Chloe’s expression froze for a moment, her confident smile faltering just slightly. Then she pouted, her tone laced with mock hurt. “Mila, there’s no need to be so passive-aggressive. Sure, I’ve been divorced, but my feelings for Gavin are genuine.” She glanced at Gavin, her lips curving upward again. “Anyway, what’s the point of rehashing old stories? None of that matters now that I’m back, right?” I frowned. She had left years ago, not because of me, but because Mrs. Rhodes had fired her after finding out she was pregnant. Yet here she was, twisting the narrative as if I had something to do with it. But Gavin didn’t give me the chance to respond. Instead, he squeezed Chloe’s hand tightly and declared, loud enough for everyone to hear, “No one will ever have the power to make you leave again.” He shot me a pointed, almost accusatory look, as if I were the villain in this story. The bitterness in my chest swelled, and I excused myself under the pretense of cleaning my dress. I slipped into the bathroom, where I sent Gavin a short message: “We’re done.” But before I could leave, Gavin was already outside the door, waiting for me. He leaned against the wall, his arms crossed, a frown etched deep into his face. “What’s that supposed to mean?” “It means I’m done, Gavin,” I said, my voice steady. “Chloe’s back now. There’s no need for me, the stand-in, anymore.” His hand shot out, grabbing my wrist tightly. His laugh was sharp, tinged with disbelief and anger. “You’re breaking up with me? Do you think you have that kind of power? Don’t forget, Mila, everything you have—everything—was given to you by the Rhodes family. Even you belong to us.” He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a cold whisper. “If you leave now, people will think Chloe had something to do with it. Is that what you want?” 05 Ignoring my protests, Gavin dragged me back to the private room. Chloe lifted her wine glass with a smug smile, tilting it slightly in my direction. “I thought you’d left already,” she said sweetly, as if she were welcoming an old friend. “Thank you for taking care of Gavin while I was gone all these years.” Gavin pressed a shot of vodka into my hand. “Chloe’s toasting you. Don’t be rude.” I stared at the glass, my stomach churning. Memories from years ago flooded my mind. It was the summer before college, shortly after Chloe had left. Gavin had been devastated, spending his nights drinking himself into oblivion. One night, he got into trouble at a bar, and a group of thugs forced him to drink an entire bottle of vodka. I had stepped in, grabbing the bottle and downing it myself to protect him. The alcohol was so strong that I ended up vomiting blood from stomach ulcers. Ever since then, Gavin had been fiercely protective, forbidding me from touching alcohol. Anytime someone pressured me to drink, he would step in without hesitation. But tonight, he didn’t say a word. Chloe, meanwhile, took a tiny sip of her red wine, coughing delicately as her face turned pink. Gavin immediately rushed to her side, taking the glass from her hand. “Don’t drink anymore. I’m here. No one can force you to do anything.” Chloe leaned against him, her gaze soft and adoring as she glanced at me. “What about you, Mila? Are you not drinking? Don’t tell me you can’t handle it either?” Gavin’s voice cut through the tension. “She can drink. Mila, don’t ruin the mood.” I said nothing. Without hesitation, I downed the vodka in one shot. The burning sensation clawed at my throat and settled like fire in my stomach, but I didn’t flinch. I simply placed the empty glass on the table and turned to leave. Gavin frowned but didn’t stop me. “Gavin,” Chloe murmured, her voice soft and sweet, “it’s so late. Aren’t you going to walk Mila home?” He hesitated for a moment before shaking his head. “She’ll be fine on her own. I need to take you and the baby home.” That was it. The last thread of warmth I had for him snapped. The pain in my stomach became unbearable by the time I got back to the hotel. A staff member ended up driving me to the emergency room, where I was treated for alcohol-related gastritis. While I lay in the hospital bed, my phone buzzed with a notification. It was a message from Chloe. The photo attached showed her lying in my bed, wearing nothing but the sheets. A steaming bowl of soup sat on the nightstand next to her. Her message read: “Thanks for training him so well. My stomach was feeling off, and he even made me soup. :)” 06 When I saw her message, I was surprised to find I didn’t feel any sadness—not even anger. Just… nothing. “Wish you both the best.” That’s the text I sent back. Shortly after, Gavin called. “Mila, I didn’t sleep with her. Don’t go around saying things like that,” he blurted out, his voice tense. After a brief pause, he added, “And don’t ruin Chloe’s reputation. She’s about to start working at your college as a counselor.” “Oh, got it,” I replied flatly. I was about to graduate. None of this mattered to me anymore. My calm tone left him at a loss for words. In Gavin’s mind, I’d always been the obedient one, but I had a tendency to get a little moody when it came to him—especially when another woman was involved. I would sulk, get upset, and he’d usually respond with annoyance. But now? I wasn’t angry. I wasn’t upset. And that seemed to unsettle him. “You’d better not start anything,” he said awkwardly. “Chloe will be at your graduation ceremony. And remember, her divorce is a private matter. Don’t go spreading it around.” “Sure thing. Anything else you need me to do, sir?” I asked, my voice laced with sarcasm. Gavin hung up abruptly. What I didn’t see was him furiously throwing his phone across the room, his face red with frustration. He thought my indifference was just another one of my tricks to get his attention. In retaliation, he cut off my credit card. “When you finally understand where you stand, come beg me for money.” It was ironic. There had been countless times before when he’d tossed his card at me, telling me to “spend whatever you want.” But aside from covering basic living expenses, I’d never really used it. And now? I didn’t need it anymore. 07 At the graduation ball, Gavin showed up with Chloe, just as I’d expected. The moment they walked in, the entire room seemed to pause. Then came the whispers, the subtle glances darting between me and Chloe. “That’s Mila’s boyfriend, isn’t it? Why is he holding someone else’s hand? And… why are they dressed so similarly?” “I heard Mila’s just a stand-in. Gavin’s always been in love with her.” I hadn’t realized the champagne-colored gown I’d chosen for the night would end up matching Chloe’s. I’d picked it myself, thinking it was the perfect choice. The only person I’d shown it to beforehand was Gavin. I’d even asked him to take a picture of me in it to see how it looked. At the time, he’d been impatient, brushing me off with, “Wear whatever you want. It’s not like I care.” But now, he stood beside Chloe, treating her like she was the most precious thing in the world. Even his tie matched the color of her dress. I instinctively turned to leave, but Chloe called out to me, her voice soft and apologetic. She bit her lip, feigning guilt. “Mila, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know you’d wear this dress too. I thought you wouldn’t… you know, try to copy me again. Should I go change?” Her words stopped me in my tracks. Before I could respond, Gavin strode toward me, his face dark with anger. “Mila, I thought you’d moved on,” he snapped. “But here you are, pulling this stunt. Take off the dress. Now.” “Why should I?” I shot back, standing my ground for the first time. “I bought this dress with my own money. Not a single cent of it came from the Rhodes family.” Gavin’s lips twisted into a mocking smirk. “Your own money? Mila, you’re an orphan. The only reason you’ve survived this long is because of the Rhodes family. What right do you have to act defiant now?” He stepped closer, his voice dropping to a low, menacing tone. “If you won’t take it off, I’ll have it taken off for you.” He glanced around and gave a subtle nod. From the crowd, a group of his security guards stepped forward, heading straight for me.

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Riding my rusty little food cart, loaded with steaming braised pork trotters, I suddenly realized the brakes had gone out. Before I could react, the cart careened straight into a gleaming Rolls-Royce parked by the curb. I sighed, already bracing for the fallout. Reaching into my pocket for my bank card, I figured I’d just throw some money at the problem and hope for the best. But then the car door swung open, and out stepped someone I hadn’t expected to see in a million years—my ex-fiancée. Her expression was a wild rollercoaster of emotions: shock, disbelief, and finally, a smirk of pure satisfaction. Before I could even think about hopping back on the cart and making a getaway, she moved faster than I thought humanly possible. In the blink of an eye, she was in front of me, aiming a sharp kick straight at my stomach. “Well, well,” she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “The guy who ghosted me right before our wedding. You just had to chase your dreams and disappear to God knows where. What happened? Did your big plans crash and burn? Now you’re back selling pork trotters, huh?” …

Emma’s kick was no joke—it was like getting hit by a freight train. I landed flat on my back, the impact rattling the food cart behind me, sending the insulated container of steaming pork trotters wobbling precariously. Groaning, I clutched my stomach, trying to rub away the pain. Cold sweat trickled down my back as I lay there, too dazed to even glance in her direction. But Emma wasn’t done. Arms crossed, she strode toward me in her high heels, each step deliberate and menacing. She stopped just inches from me, her silhouette towering over my crumpled form. With an air of unsettling calm, she reached down, her icy fingers gripping my chin and forcing me to look up at her. “Liam,” she said, dragging my name out like a taunt, her voice sweet but laced with venom. “Seven years… and here you are again, right back in my hands. So tell me, you hit my Rolls-Royce—how exactly are you planning to pay for it?” Her palm came down in slow, deliberate pats against my cheek, mockingly gentle. I stayed on the ground, staring up at her. My eyes involuntarily traced the way her hair fell over her shoulder, catching the light. She was still as beautiful as ever, though thinner now—like she hadn’t been eating properly. Her voice had a slight rasp, her nose and cheeks tinged red from the cold. And in this freezing weather, she was only wearing a coat, nothing warm underneath. The sight of her made something twist painfully in my chest. Even as she slapped my cheek with that look of pure hate, I couldn’t help but feel like I was dreaming. That is, until she delivered another sharp smack to the back of my head, snapping me out of my daze. “Don’t you dare look at me with that fake, lovesick expression!” she snapped, her voice sharp enough to cut glass. “Seven years ago, you vanished like a coward before our wedding. And now, you’re a broke loser crashing into my car. What? You think you can weasel your way out of this by playing the ‘long-lost lover’ card?” Her words hit harder than the kick. I scrambled to pull out my bank card, fumbling with my pocket as a sharp ache spread through my chest. It wasn’t just the guilt—it was the bitterness of seeing how much she despised me now. Seven years ago, she’d cry if I so much as nicked my finger. Now, she didn’t hesitate to slap me like I was nothing. But as I clutched the card, my mind wandered back to the moment that had changed everything. Seven years ago, I disappeared three days before our wedding—not because I wanted to leave her, but because I had no choice. I was working undercover, trying to save my team leader in a high-stakes drug bust. The operation went sideways, and we were caught in an explosion. I woke up three months later in a hospital bed, my body scarred and my life in shambles. I had every intention of going back to Emma, to beg for her forgiveness and explain everything. But life had other plans. A diagnosis of terminal cancer landed in my lap like a cruel joke. I couldn’t drag Emma into the wreckage of my life—not when I had no future to offer her. So I let her go, thinking it was the right thing to do. And now, here I was. All I’d wanted was to spend my last days chasing a simple dream of becoming a chef, living a quiet life. Yet fate had thrown me back into her orbit in the most humiliating way possible. Swallowing the lump in my throat, I forced myself to stay composed. My fingers tightened around the card as I tried to hand it to her, choking back the tears threatening to spill. “It’s not like that,” I blurted, my voice cracking under the weight of everything I couldn’t say. “I can pay for the car, I swear. Just let me—” Before I could even get the words out, Emma smirked, already one step ahead of me. With a dramatic toss of her long hair, she reached into her designer handbag and pulled out a neatly folded stack of papers. A contract. She waved it in front of me with a triumphant grin. “Ha! Forget the money. Just sign this!”

Before I could even recover from my shock or process what was happening, Emma crouched down, grabbed my hand, and sank her teeth into it—hard. The sharp pain shot through me as blood trickled from the bite. Emma, unfazed, pressed my bleeding hand onto the contract, smearing the paper with red. “Ha! I knew you couldn’t afford to pay for my car! So, here’s the deal—you’ve signed your life away. This is a servitude contract, Liam, and I now have the right to do whatever I want with you!” I howled in pain, springing to my feet like a startled cat, shaking my injured hand to stop the bleeding. “Emma, what the hell is wrong with you—” Before I could finish, her hand came flying at me again, slapping me clean across the face. “Shut up!” she barked, her eyes blazing with fury. “Look at you—broke, pathetic, and still trying to act like some tough guy. You can’t pay for the car, so don’t even think about strutting around like you’re someone important!” Her voice dripped with scorn as she jabbed a finger into my chest. “Here are your options, Liam. Either you go to jail for wrecking my car, or you stay here and suffer through every punishment I see fit. And trust me, I’m going to make you regret every single decision you’ve ever made—especially the one where you left me standing at the altar!” She leaned closer, her voice colder than ice. “Seven years ago, I must’ve been blind to even consider marrying a loser like you. But starting today, I’ll make you wish you’d never been born.” Her finger jabbed me so hard that I nearly stumbled backward. I stood there, stunned, staring at the fiery, vengeful woman in front of me. My hand, still clutching the bank card in my pocket, suddenly froze. Why bother pulling it out? What was the point? I only had a month left to live anyway. The cancer was eating me alive, and I knew my time was running out. If I spent these last few weeks being dragged around by her, at least I’d get to see her every day. Maybe, selfishly, I could allow myself that small comfort before the end. Emma didn’t even glance back as she turned on her heel and walked away, her voice sharp as she barked another order. “Hurry up, Liam! Quit standing there like an idiot and move!” I hesitated, glancing back at my food cart. The pork trotters inside had taken me hours to perfect. The glossy, caramelized skin, the tender meat, the fragrant sauce—I’d been so proud of them. But all I could do now was sigh and abandon the cart as I jogged after her. Emma led me to her mansion—a sprawling, 5,000-square-foot luxury home. She assigned me to a tiny, 100-square-foot room, barely bigger than a closet. It was clear she wasn’t going to make this easy for me. Her hatred for me was written in every detail of my new “job.” The house was spotless, and she had a full-time cleaning service on staff, but that didn’t stop her from making me scrub every tile on my hands and knees until it gleamed. She had a fleet of luxury cars at her disposal, but instead of using them, she made me pedal her $3,800 designer bicycle, carting her around for miles like a human chauffeur. It felt like she was actively trying to kill me. By the time I collapsed in the corner of the kitchen after another grueling day of chores, my hands were raw, covered in blisters and cuts. I stared at my trembling fingers, unable to hold back the wave of exhaustion and despair creeping over me. “Liam!” One of her assistants barked as they burst into the room. “Miss Emma wants coffee. And not just any coffee—she wants Louis XVI coffee at exactly 46 degrees. Got it? Not 45, not 47. If you screw this up, you’ll be in for it!” I groaned, dragging myself off the floor. “Got it,” I muttered under my breath, shuffling toward the door like a zombie. As I stumbled around the corner, I didn’t realize Emma was walking straight toward me. Before I could stop myself, I bumped into her. Her body was soft and warm as she fell lightly against my chest. Her scent—faintly floral, clean, and familiar—flooded my senses, and for a moment, my heart felt like it was about to explode. I panicked, afraid she’d push me away in disgust. My hands instinctively moved to steady her before I quickly backed off, trying to be respectful. “Emma, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—” I stammered, stepping back. But then she turned around, surprising me. Her small fists pressed against my chest as she looked up at me with wide, tear-filled eyes. “Liam…” she whispered, her voice trembling.

Her voice was soft, almost a whisper, stripped of all the anger and venom I’d grown used to over the past few days. It reminded me of the Emma I used to know, the one who would laugh and blush whenever I looked at her. My chest tightened, my nose stinging as if I was on the verge of tears. I gazed at her, my voice equally gentle as I asked, “What’s wrong?” Emma tilted her head slightly, her cheeks flushed, her lips parting as though she wanted to say something—but no words came out. Then, without warning, her hands started moving. She tugged at my shirt, her soft fingers brushing against my skin, wandering across my chest with no regard for personal boundaries. Her face rested delicately against my chest, as if she belonged there. I froze, my body heating up like a furnace. Every instinct screamed that this wasn’t right, that something was off, but I couldn’t bring myself to push her away. Then I heard her murmur, her voice slurred and faint, “You jerk… leaving me like that… If I tie you to my side, will you finally see how much I care? Will you regret abandoning me…?” Her words trailed off as her body suddenly went limp. She collapsed completely into my arms. Panic gripped me as I caught her, my heart pounding. I touched her forehead, only to realize it was burning up—she was running a dangerously high fever. “Damn it, Emma,” I muttered under my breath, my throat tightening as I fought back tears. She must’ve been delirious, and that’s why she’d let slip everything she was feeling. Without wasting another second, I scooped her up in my arms and ran like my life depended on it, faster than any car on the road. I carried her up the stairs to her bedroom, called a doctor, and stayed by her side as they gave her fluids and medication. For three days and nights, I didn’t leave her bedside. I didn’t sleep, barely ate, and spent every second tending to her—wiping her sweat, adjusting her blanket, and making sure she was comfortable. By the third night, exhaustion got the better of me, and I nodded off for just a moment. I woke up to the faint sound of coughing. My eyes shot open, and I saw Emma stirring in bed, her body curling slightly as if she wanted to sit up. “I’ll get you some water!” I blurted out, scrambling to my feet. I didn’t notice her staring at me, her expression soft and filled with something I hadn’t seen before. When I turned back with the water, I met her gaze—those big, hopeful eyes brimming with an emotion that made my chest ache. “Liam,” she said softly, her voice still raspy. “You were worried about me, weren’t you? That’s why you stayed… you didn’t rest at all, did you?” She didn’t realize it, but her fingers were nervously fidgeting with the blanket, and she bit her lip as she waited for my answer. It was like she was afraid of what I might say, yet silently praying I’d confirm what she already suspected. The truth was on the tip of my tongue. I wanted to tell her, Yes, Emma. I was worried sick about you. I couldn’t bear to leave your side. But then I remembered the words she’d mumbled before fainting, her vulnerability, and the cruel reality of my terminal cancer. How could I let her hope for a future with me when I didn’t even have one? So instead, I forced a laugh, plastering on a fake grin. “Worried about you? Don’t be ridiculous. If I cared, I wouldn’t have left you seven years ago, would I? I just didn’t want you dying and leaving no one to pay me back for all the trouble you’ve caused!” I laughed loudly, hoping it would mask the way my heart was breaking. Her expression fell instantly, her hopeful gaze turning into one of quiet disappointment. She lowered her eyes, her fingers stilling as the weight of my words sank in. She didn’t say anything, but the hurt was written all over her face. I could’ve stopped there, but I knew that wasn’t enough to push her away completely. I needed to make her hate me, to sever whatever lingering feelings she might have had. So I forced myself to say the one thing I knew would break her. “And you know why I left you back then? It wasn’t because of some noble reason. It was because…” I paused, swallowing the lump in my throat. “Because I’m into men.” Her head shot up, her eyes widening in shock. I forced another laugh, scratching the back of my neck like it was no big deal. “Yeah, that’s right. I’ve always liked guys. Guess I was just too scared to admit it back then.” The room fell into a suffocating silence, the kind that made even the air feel heavy. Then came the slap. “SMACK!” Her hand struck my face with enough force to rattle the windows. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she glared at me with a mix of anger and heartbreak. She didn’t say another word. She simply tossed a bank card at me, pointed to the door, and spat out one final command. “Get out.” I clenched my fists, my head hanging low as I bit my lip to keep from crying. This was for the best, I told myself. This was how it had to be. Without another word, I turned and walked away, leaving her behind. Days passed, and I threw myself into my food cart business, selling pork trotters to anyone who’d buy them. It was the only thing keeping me sane. One afternoon, as I sat on the curb, lost in thought about Emma, someone called out to me. “Liam?” I turned to see Thomas, an old friend from my time in the police force. He grinned when he saw me, his eyes lighting up at the sight of my pork trotters. “Man, those smell amazing,” he said, but instead of digging in like he usually would, he hesitated, looking at me with a strange expression. “Thomas, what’s up?” I asked. He scratched the back of his head, avoiding my gaze. “There’s something I need to tell you. It’s about… your diagnosis.” I froze. “What about it?” He sighed. “Turns out the doctor messed up. The cancer diagnosis? It wasn’t yours. It belonged to some old guy who died 13 years ago. The idiot mixed up the records because you have the same name.” My mind went blank. “What… what did you say?” I asked, my voice barely a whisper. Thomas nodded quickly, trying to reassure me. “You’re fine, Liam. You’re not dying. The doctor’s been fired for screwing up so many cases, and—” I didn’t wait for him to finish. I was alive. I wasn’t going to die. And that meant… I could still be with Emma. Without thinking, I took off running, darting through the crowded streets like a man possessed. I had to tell her. I had to fix everything. I reached her house, breathless and trembling with anticipation. Knocking on the door, I called out, “Emma, I—” The door opened, and before I could say anything, she sprayed me in the face with a garden hose. Blinking through the water, I saw him. A tall, handsome man sat on her bed, casually eating an apple she’d peeled for him, his legs crossed like he owned the place.

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After my first love passed away, it was Zack who helped me move on with his eight years of secret love and two years of companionship. But when we finally got together, he became discontented. He had a one-night stand with a woman who had a crush on him, and she got pregnant. He forced me to have an abortion. “As long as you accept that child, we’ll be even.” “Julia, I just saw my former self in her. In your eyes, was I also that pitiful and lowly?” Zack and I had another argument about the baby. Early in the morning, I was in the study organizing some files when Zack, already dressed, suddenly spoke up. “When are you free?” “Why?” I asked, distracted. “We need to go get the procedure done as soon as possible,” he said. My attention was focused on the contract in front of me, and it took me a moment to register what he meant. “What procedure?” Zack’s gaze dropped to my stomach. I froze, the documents still in my hand. For a moment, we were both silent. After a long pause, I turned to look at him. “Zack, are you trying to divorce me?” He was taken aback and quickly shook his head. “How could that be possible? Why would I want to divorce you?” “Then why are you insisting I terminate this pregnancy?” I didn’t understand. I had discovered I was pregnant about two weeks ago. After working on two cases back-to-back, I had fainted in the conference room. My boss was terrified, thinking I’d had a heart attack from overwork. But when they checked, they found out I was pregnant. It was good news. I was thrilled. I thought Zack would be just as happy as I was. But after hearing the news, he fell silent. That night he tossed and turned, and for the next three days, he seemed distracted. On the fourth day, he said to me, “The timing isn’t right. We can have another one later. This one… let’s just forget about it!” He wanted me to terminate the pregnancy, to abort our baby. We had a huge fight and parted on bad terms. I moved out of our house and stayed in a hotel for a week. During that week, I refused to see Zack and rejected all his calls. Later, he came to find me, looking dejected. “Julia, is it that you’ll never look back at me unless I give in? You can’t be that cruel to me!” Cruel? I had long since lost the ability to be cruel to Zack. I naturally went back home with him. We glossed over the issue of the baby. I thought I’d wait until things calmed down and find a good time to talk to him properly. But before I could bring it up, he mentioned it again.

My accusation made Zack frown in frustration. “Didn’t I already tell you? The timing isn’t right! Why do you insist on having this baby now? We can have children later, but not this one!” Zack’s words felt like heavy stones pressing down on my heart. I let out a long sigh. “During that week I stayed at the hotel, I thought about many possibilities – maybe your company was in trouble, or there was something wrong with your health. I even took your medical report to see a specialist. Zack, I can’t understand. We’re legally married, we don’t have any relationship problems, I’m pregnant – isn’t having this baby the natural thing to do? The timing isn’t right? That reason doesn’t convince me!” Zack fell silent again. Just when I thought this conversation was going to end without resolution, he said, “I’ll take you to meet someone.”

On the way, neither of us spoke. I was a bit angry. I knew Zack was definitely hiding something from me. He didn’t want to tell me. But this secret was related to why he didn’t want our baby. Now, he was probably going to reveal this secret to me. I thought, no matter what his reason was, I was truly angry this time. He had hurt me. I wouldn’t forgive him so easily. But at the same time, no matter what his reason was, he was my love, and I would get through this with him. That’s what I really thought. I was prepared to weather this storm with him. But later I realized how foolish I had been. The car drove across half the city before stopping. I looked in the direction Zack was pointing. It was a flower shop. The shop owner, wearing a loose dress, was smiling as she saw off a customer. After the customer left, she tiredly pressed her hand against her back. She was pregnant, her belly quite large – she looked like she was almost due. “Do you recognize her?” Zack asked. I hesitated and shook my head. She looked somewhat familiar, but I couldn’t place her. “Think harder,” he said. I frowned at Zack. “Who is she? And what does she have to do with us?” Zack looked into the distance, his expression blank. “Tessa. Our high school classmate.” I thought for a while before finally digging up the memory of this person. In our three years of high school, there was a very special girl – short hair, outgoing, played the piano. She participated in the school’s arts festival every year. Her appearance was already blurry in my memory. But I vividly remembered how she played the piano like she was waging war. I also remembered that she had done something very bold once – publicly confessing her love for Zack over the school’s broadcast system. I suddenly turned my head to look at Zack. “She liked you!” Zack didn’t deny it. “I thought it was just a youthful impulse. But when I met her again a year ago, she told me she still liked me!” My breath caught for a moment, and my hands on my knees slowly tightened. “What are you trying to say?” Zack met my gaze. “Thirteen years! I loved you for thirteen years, and she loved me for thirteen years. Do you know? I saw my own reflection in her – pitiful and lowly.” “So?” Zack laughed bitterly. “Sometimes I can’t help but wonder, do you really like me? Do you like me more, or…” Zack didn’t say the name, but we both knew he meant Finn. My first love. Who died from heart disease. Zack had used his eight years of secret love and two years of companionship to help me let down my guard. I thought he understood me. But now, after three years of marriage, he was still hung up on this question. “Zack, what exactly are you trying to say?” The sadness on his face disappeared, replaced by a blank expression as he looked at me. “I don’t care anymore, even if you can never let him go in your heart, even if I’m always second to him. Julia, as long as you accept the child in Tessa’s belly, we’ll be even, and we can start over!” “What did you say?” For a moment, I thought I must have misheard. “The child in Tessa’s belly is yours? Zack, are you telling me you cheated on me?” “I didn’t!” Zack rubbed his forehead tiredly, “I just gave her a child!” My face turned cold. I got out of the car, slammed the door, and started to walk away. “Julia!” Zack caught up with me, grabbing my hand tightly. “I know you can’t accept this right away, but you can think about it. I just hope we can be together more equally, instead of me always being the one to give in!” My whole body tensed up, and I gritted out each word. “Let go of me!” “Zack, you disgust me!” Zack’s grip suddenly loosened. “What did you say?” “I said, you disgust me!” He laughed abruptly. “Disgust? You say I disgust you?” “So you’re just like everyone else, thinking I’m your lapdog, is that it?” “I’ve been devoted to you for ten years, and you finally took pity on me and married me. But even now, you still haven’t let go of him in your heart.” “You know what? I’m a laughingstock in other people’s eyes!”

Zack’s emotions were getting more and more intense. But my heart was growing colder. When Finn passed away, it was Zack who stayed by my side. He told me he had secretly loved me for eight years. “From the start of high school until now, eight years, I’ve only ever liked you.” I rejected him, not wanting to use him to heal my own pain. He said it was okay. “Even if you don’t like me, it doesn’t matter, just let me be by your side. Otherwise, I’ll worry about you.” Later, I accepted him. He was so excited he almost cried. “Even if you don’t like me as much right now, it’s okay. We have a lifetime, and I believe we’ll be together forever!” Everything seemed to be going as he wished. But at some point, he started harboring all this resentment and grievance. The tenderness and love of the past became indistinguishable from falsehood. It made me shudder!

“Zack, is that you? You came to see me?” Tessa’s voice suddenly appeared. She waddled across the street, running towards us as fast as her pregnant body would allow. Zack frowned slightly and let go of me. He stepped forward to steady Tessa. “What’s the rush? Take it easy!” Tessa stuck out her tongue playfully, happily grabbing Zack’s arm. “I wanted to see you as soon as possible! Why didn’t you call me when you came? If I hadn’t seen you…” “Tessa!” “Hmm?” “I brought Julia to see you!” The smile froze on Tessa’s face. She hurriedly let go of Zack’s hand and looked at me nervously. “J-J-Julia, long time no see!” The scene before me was too absurd. I didn’t want to stay a second longer. But Tessa hurriedly came forward, trying to grab me. I quickly stepped back. “Don’t touch me. Who’s responsible if you trip or bump into something?” Zack came between us, his tone flat as he spoke to me. “I know you’re not that kind of person!” I let out a scornful laugh and nodded. “I always thought you knew that too.” Zack was stunned for a moment, about to say something, when Tessa interrupted. She bowed deeply to me, her face pale. “Julia, it’s all my fault! I only wanted to keep this baby, I didn’t mean to disturb your lives. But there’s a problem with my health, and I might not be able to see this child grow up! But don’t worry, after I give birth, I’ll leave. I won’t affect your lives!” Zack also looked at me. “Think about it carefully. You don’t need to give me an answer right away!” “No need!” I looked back at him, “I can give you my answer right now.” “Zack, I will terminate the pregnancy!” “And then, we’re getting divorced!”

Sarah probably never imagined that the first big thing she’d do after her own divorce would be to accompany me to get an abortion. I moved out of the house. At first, Zack didn’t agree. My mention of divorce enraged him. He almost smashed half the house. “Julia, how can you say those two words so easily? After all these years, what do I mean to you?” “You don’t understand, of course you don’t understand. All along, it’s been me following behind you. Have you ever looked back at me even once?” “She waited for me for thirteen years, just wanting something to remember me by. I couldn’t refuse.” “When I see her, it’s like seeing myself.” “You think I really want that child? Julia, I just wanted you to prove to me that you love me!” I stared at Zack for a long time, feeling more and more unfamiliar with him, more and more repulsed. “No need to prove anything. Just assume I never loved you!” I said sarcastically to Sarah, “When you divorced Jack, I thought Jack was a jerk. But now I realize, at least he was more straightforward than Zack. When he was wrong, he admitted it, didn’t make excuses, and agreed to divorce quickly!” But what about Zack? In the days since I left, I had been constantly mulling over his words. For a while, I even entered his mindset and thought maybe he wasn’t wrong. He had done so much for me over the years. His kindness to me was obvious to everyone. Even his mother couldn’t help but joke, “My son was born just for you. If he gave me even a fraction of the love he gives you, I’d be over the moon.” Many people envied me, saying Zack and I ending up together was hard-won. So I did cherish it. Was I not doing enough? Or did I do something wrong? Why did Zack harbor so much resentment and dissatisfaction? Sarah held my hand, her face full of disapproval. “Wrong is wrong, right is right. It doesn’t matter who’s responsible. If he insists it’s because of you, that’s his own problem.” I smiled bitterly and lowered my head. In my career so far, I’ve handled at least 80 divorce cases, if not 100. I was always able to rationally counsel others. I was always able to accurately analyze the true motivations behind a person’s actions. I told women not to be manipulated. I thought I had seen it all and could remain calm no matter what situation arose. But when it happened to me, I realized I was just as confused as anyone else in my position. When I was wheeled out of the operating room, there were quite a few people outside. Sarah stood with her back to me, blocking Jack and Zack. Seeing me, Zack’s gaze was panicked, his smile forced. “Julia, I’ve come to take you home!” Sarah shifted, blocking him. “Mr. Zhou, will you leave on your own, or do I need to call someone to escort you out? Jack should know I have some connections.” “Sarah…” “Don’t call me that!” she said, “Birds of a feather really do flock together.” In the end, Jack pulled Zack away. Before leaving, Zack stared at me intently: “The divorce is not up to you alone.” I didn’t say anything, curling up on the hospital bed. My lower abdomen felt empty, even a bit cold. Waves of dull pain stimulated my nerves. It wasn’t an intense pain, but it made my whole body tremble. I could only burrow deeper into the blanket. This baby – I hadn’t even had time to fully process its existence before I terminated the pregnancy myself. But it was the best choice. For me, I couldn’t let an unformed child burden my entire life for the sake of so-called maternal love. For the child, why should it bear the bitter fruit of my failed marriage with Zack? It was the most rational decision. But that didn’t mean I wasn’t sad. I thought, let me be weak for just one more night. When the sun rises tomorrow morning, I’ll be that unbreakable Julia again. Sarah took me back to her place, saying she wanted to take care of me herself. She asked me what I planned to do next. “Get divorced, of course. But first I need to find out the truth!” I didn’t believe a word Zack said!

For investigating this kind of thing, I had my own channels. But actually, I only needed to clarify one thing – whether Tessa had gotten pregnant through artificial insemination. I found someone to help me check her medical records at the hospital. That afternoon, he gave me the answer. Tessa had conceived naturally. Zack’s lie fell apart on its own. He had cheated. I was mentally prepared for this answer. I also thought it wouldn’t affect me at all. But when I got out of bed to get some water, my legs gave out and I fell onto the floor mat. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?” I smiled bitterly and shook my head: “In the past, when I encountered women who had been betrayed by their husbands, I always watched coldly as they went crazy, cried, became hysterical. I thought I would handle it better than them!” Sarah hugged me, patting my back rhythmically. “If you want to cry, then cry. What’s the big deal? When you’re hurt, you’re allowed to be upset. There’s no rule against that!” I don’t know if it was Sarah’s words, or her actions, or the warmth from her body. At that moment, the emotions I had been suppressing for days finally burst out. Tears gushed forth, and my voice went from choked sobs to wails. I cried until I was shaking, curled up on the floor, and finally passed out. “What do you plan to do next?” “Wait.” “Wait for what?” Wait for Tessa’s child to be born. This child would be key to how I approach the divorce case. I couldn’t find evidence of Zack’s affair. For nearly a year, he hadn’t given me any reason to suspect, and now it would be even harder to investigate. But that’s okay. Once we have the paternity test, his betrayal will be proven. However, as a formality, I still need to ask Zack one question first: “Do you agree to a private mediation for our divorce?”

This was the first time I agreed to meet Zack after staying at Sarah’s house for a week. He looked a bit dazed, as if he hadn’t clearly heard what I was asking, and just stared at me intently. He said: “You were lying to me, weren’t you?” “Lying about what?” “You didn’t actually terminate the pregnancy, you were lying to me!” Zack’s words made my heart clench. “Is it necessary? Do you need the doctor to perform the surgery in front of you to believe it? Or do you want me to go back into the operating room? In your heart, is it the child who committed an unforgivable sin, or is it me who’s guilty of a heinous crime?” My words made Zack’s face gradually fill with pain. “So you just terminated our child so easily? No arguing, no crying, not even telling me! Julia, you’re so heartless! If it was Finn’s child, would you have done the same?” These words instantly enraged me. But my professional sensitivity made me catch the implication in the next second. “Zack, do you regret it? You forced me to terminate the pregnancy, and now you regret it?” Zack stood up abruptly, his face deathly pale. He said: “I won’t divorce you!” Very well, it seems private mediation is not an option. If that’s the case, there’s no need to waste time. I recuperated at Sarah’s house for half a month, and after the hospital cleared me at the follow-up, I went back to work. I had originally wanted to move out. She wouldn’t let me, saying two people keep each other company. “Let’s be divorce buddies, helping each other get through this tough time!” I thought about it and agreed it wasn’t a bad idea. I moved my things out of Zack’s place. He wasn’t supposed to be there that day, but he suddenly rushed back. He didn’t say a word the whole time. He just stood there with a cold expression, watching me bustle in and out, and finally leave. Sarah didn’t understand: “What does he mean by that?” I laughed lightly: “He wants reconciliation, but he’s not willing to lower his head. Because I haven’t pushed forward with the divorce, he thinks I’m just throwing a tantrum. At a time like this, he has to hold out – whoever gives in first loses. He might even feel a bit wronged. That’s probably what’s going on in his mind!” I didn’t expect Zack to have a sudden epiphany, cry his eyes out, or be devastated. People like that are too rare. More often, it’s resentment plus hostility. That’s reality. After taking care of everything, I went abroad again. I came back half a year later, with a promotion and a raise. During the time I was abroad for the second time, Zack sent me an email with just three words: [I’m sorry!] I replied: [If you’ve already done something to be sorry for, don’t bother saying sorry!]

Tessa went into labor two days before her due date. She was admitted to the hospital in the morning and gave birth to a big, healthy boy at 7:20 PM. Almost the entire Zhou family had shown up. When I arrived, the scene was quite heartwarming. Zack was holding the baby, his expression a mix of tenderness and melancholy. Tessa lay in the hospital bed, her eyes full of joy. If it weren’t for my appearance, this would have been the picture of a happy family of three. Zack’s mother was the first to notice me. She looked a bit awkward. “Julia, you’re here! Come, come see the baby. He’ll be calling you ‘Mom’ in the future too!” I burst out laughing. “I’ll have to decline that, thanks!” Zack seemed a bit dazed. He took a couple of steps forward with the baby, then stepped back and put the child down. “You came.” “Yes, I need you to cooperate with something.” “What is it?” I pointed at the uniformed staff behind me. “We need to do a paternity test for you and the child. Please cooperate.” Zack’s expression faded, and he looked at me with deep, dark eyes.

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When my boyfriend was hospitalized, I hurried to the hospital with a pot of soup, only to overhear a conversation between him and his friend. “Your first love is back. When are you planning to break up with the person who’s been taking her place? “After you guys break up, can I have a go? I haven’t had a woman like her before.” Maxwell didn’t rebut him as I expected but instead casually said, “Sure, she’s easy to get. Just sweet-talk her a bit, and you’ll have her in bed.” That night, I found a secret Twitter account, which recorded his years of lingering feelings for his first love. I didn’t confront him, didn’t make a scene. I calmly booked a flight to Peregrinia. Chapter On the day of our third anniversary, Maxwell Finch sprained his ankle by tripping down the stairs at work. I rushed to the hospital after getting his call. He explained he’d been in a hurry to meet me at the restaurant, worried I’d be waiting too long, and had missed a step. So, I took a few days off work to care for him, staying by his side in the hospital. On the day he was discharged, his good friend, George Martin, came to visit him, so I felt at ease and went home to make soup. I grabbed the warm thermos of freshly made chicken soup and rushed back to the hospital. As I approached the ward, the door was slightly ajar, and I overheard their conversation. George was patting him on the shoulder, trying not to laugh. “Eleanor’s back and you’re this happy? You even managed to trip on the stairs rushing to the airport to pick her up.” When I heard the name, Eleanor, my heart skipped a beat. Eleanor Dashwood had been Maxwell’s college friend and the only woman in their close-knit group of four. She was also Maxwell’s first love. They had dated for two years before parting ways when she moved abroad. Despite their breakup, they were still considered the perfect couple by their friends, and occasionally, the other two guys would joke about how Maxwell should have ended up with Eleanor, not me. In their eyes, if Eleanor hadn’t left, I would have never stood a chance as Maxwell’s girlfriend. He used to defend me when they joked like this. But this time, perhaps because I wasn’t around, Maxwell said nothing. George continued with his teasing, “Eleanor’s back. So, when are you going to kick out her replacement? “After you break up, can I date her? I’ve never been with a woman like her before.” Finally, Maxwell looked up, his brow furrowing, and smacked George playfully on the shoulder. “Eleanor hasn’t said anything yet, so why rush? “Plus, I’m not even fully recovered yet. I’ll still need her to take care of me at home.” At that moment, my ears seemed to ring. It felt like a heavy weight had settled over my senses, and the shock quickly gave way to a numb, dazed feeling. George didn’t seem bothered at all. He casually peeled an orange I had bought. “She seems so sweet, but you always tell me how wild she is in bed. “I really don’t get the contrast.” Though I was holding the warm thermos, it felt as if I had fallen into an icy abyss. I had never imagined that the boyfriend I had been with for three years could speak about me in such a degrading way behind my back. Maxwell’s voice rang out, cold and indifferent. “If you want to chase her, go ahead. She’s starved for attention and easy to get. “I just said a few sweet words to her back then, and that’s how we ended up in bed.” My breath caught in my throat. A deep, searing pain shot through my chest. I heard the two of them laughing softly in the room, and I felt a wave of nausea rise in my throat. I quickly covered my mouth and ran to the bathroom, gagging and crying, the tears streaming down my face. It hit me then, after three years of loving him, I was nothing more than his first love’s substitute. I had thought maybe he didn’t care for me as much, but I never imagined the level of contempt he held for me. He didn’t just love me, and he didn’t even regard me as a human being. To him, I might as well have been the trash on the street. The fantasy I had built crumbled. I could barely comprehend that the man I had imagined spending my life with was so fundamentally flawed. Looking back, it made sense. Maxwell’s friends could joke openly in front of me about him and other women. How could they possibly respect me behind my back? Every time they came over, they treated me like a maid, ordering me around. And Maxwell’s failure to stop them from disrespecting me was essentially his approval. In front of me, he merely pretended to be decent. I wiped my tears away and threw the chicken soup, which I had spent hours making, into the trash. At that moment, breaking up with him had never seemed so clear. When I walked into the room, I had managed to pull myself together. Upon seeing me empty-handed, Maxwell’s face instantly darkened, his displeasure clear. “Didn’t you say you were going to make soup for me? Why did you come back empty-handed?” George, standing next to him, added, “Yeah, Adeline, Maxwell just told me how thoughtful you are.” With a sly grin, George leaned in and said, “Adeline, you might not even get the chance to cook soup for Maxwell anymore.” I instinctively looked at Maxwell, but he made no move to stop George’s comment. It dawned on me then. Perhaps, with Eleanor back, Maxwell wanted to get rid of me immediately. He wasn’t even pretending anymore, or maybe this was his way of giving me a little “punishment” for my defiance. Chapter

I remained silent, my eyes fixed on Maxwell. I couldn’t believe this was the man I had loved for three years. I used to think that even if Maxwell didn’t love me enough, as long as I loved him, it would be enough. I foolishly believed that, maybe one day, he would be moved by my devotion. But now, everything was mocking how naive I had been. “The soup I made today didn’t turn out great, so I drank it myself.” I smiled as I picked up the lightest bag and walked quickly out of the room, leaving first. “Come on, get your things, let’s go home.” I didn’t want to carry all of his luggage like a servant, which I had done every time before. The atmosphere on the way home was tense. Maxwell was still angry with me. But I wasn’t planning on soothing him. I needed time to calm my own emotions. As soon as we arrived home, Maxwell’s other good friend, Dorian Everhart, showed up. He came in, grinning, holding a cat in his arms. I had always been allergic to cat fur, and I instinctively recoiled, covering my nose. “Maxwell, didn’t you tell them I’m allergic to cats?!” Frowning, I kept my eyes on the Ragdoll cat in Dorian’s arms, not daring to relax for a second. When I was a child, I didn’t know I was allergic to cats. I once held a neighbor’s cat and ended up in the hospital for an entire week. “Adeline, why are you being so dramatic?” Maxwell hadn’t spoken yet, but Dorian was already rolling his eyes at me. “This is Eleanor’s Ragdoll cat. She brought it from abroad, it was really expensive. I begged for a while before she let me hold it for a few days.” “Adeline, don’t be so unreasonable.” Maxwell had been dissatisfied with my attitude for a while now, feeling embarrassed in front of his friends. Now, he finally had the chance to vent. His expression darkened terribly. “It’s just a cat. It’s not going to kill you.” He no longer even pretended to hide his disdain for me. He took the cat from Dorian and shoved it toward me. “Don’t be ridiculous. What’s the big deal with a cat?” Maxwell knew full well how severe my allergic reaction could be, yet he still treated me with such indifference. I tried to avoid the cat, but Maxwell kept pushing it closer. The cat, startled and in pain from being held too tightly, screeched and lunged toward me uncontrollably. Even though I reacted as quickly as I could, its claws scratched my neck, and I inhaled a mouthful of cat fur. Within half a minute, I began struggling to breathe. My heart raced, and a cold sweat broke out all over my body. “Call… call an ambulance…” Maxwell sneered. “Adeline, stop pretending.” Dorian noticed my face turning pale and spoke up, his voice urgent. “Maxwell, Adeline’s not faking it! We need to call 911!” As they hesitated, I collapsed heavily to the ground. Just before I lost consciousness, I saw Maxwell’s panicked face and heard Dorian and George scrambling to call an ambulance. When I woke up, I was alone in a dark hospital room. Because of their so-called “playful teasing”, I almost went into shock and was rushed to the hospital. And now, none of them were here with me. A nurse walked in, turned on the lights, and replaced the IV medication. “You’re extremely allergic to cat fur. You absolutely cannot be around cats again.” I gave a wry smile and asked, “Do you know when those three guys left?” “The three boys?” The nurse furrowed her brow, looking surprised. “They left once they saw you weren’t in danger. They didn’t stay.” She seemed incredulous. “Were they not just strangers to you?” I forced a smile. “One of them is my boyfriend. But not for long.” I checked my phone, and Maxwell’s message popped up on WhatsApp. [We went out for dinner. If you’re fine, just go home on your own.] George had posted on his Instagram twenty minutes earlier. [Reunion with old friends, so happy!] The picture showed the four of them, with Maxwell gazing lovingly at the girl beside him. Their eyes were full of affection, and Maxwell’s admiration for her was plain to see. Looking at that photo, I couldn’t hold back the tears anymore. The pain in my chest felt suffocating. At this point, I couldn’t deceive myself any longer. The one Maxwell truly loved was Eleanor. If Eleanor was willing to come back to him, I would lose all value to him. Chapter 

I suddenly remembered that Maxwell often typed on his Twitter page, but I had never seen him post anything. A thought surfaced in my mind, and I started looking for clues in his social media accounts. Maxwell’s Twitter was empty, but in the list of accounts he followed, I found one named “All for Eleanor”. My hands trembled as I clicked on it. I discovered that this account had been updated for six years, with thousands of posts. It was like opening Pandora’s box, and the contents inside left me speechless. Every single post was about Eleanor, filled with an uncontrollable love and obsession. The first posts chronicled their relationship, and the later ones showed Maxwell’s relentless thoughts of Eleanor, even years later. [November 9, 2021. I’m with someone else now. I won’t wait for you.] That day was one of the many times I had confessed my love to Maxwell. Eventually, he agreed to be with me. But now I realize it wasn’t because he was moved by my feelings; it was because that day, Eleanor had gone abroad. [March 10, 2022. I slept with someone else. You’re dating someone else. We’re even now.] I remembered that night well. Maxwell had been drunk, clinging to me, not letting me leave. In the end, he sweet-talked me into sleeping with him. [May 16, 2023. Are you really not coming back? I hate you. I’ll never forgive you!] That year, Maxwell had held me tightly and pulled a diamond ring out of his pocket, putting it on my finger. He looked at me with tender eyes and promised, “Adeline, I will marry you.” I took a deep breath but couldn’t summon the courage to read any further. I scrolled to the most recent post. [I lost to you in the end. After all these years, I still can’t let go. I will always love you.] The picture was of the two of them, smiling happily, hands tightly clasped together. Tears fell uncontrollably from my eyes, dripping onto the screen and blurring my vision. I felt stabbed by lies and betrayal, my heart bleeding. It dawned on me. Throughout the three years we’d been together, Maxwell’s love had never truly been mine. I finally understood that his love for Eleanor was intense and sincere, lasting for years. Maxwell had been willing to overcome every obstacle to be with Eleanor again. Even though she had abandoned him years ago, he still loved her without fail. But what about me? I shook, finally understanding everything. No wonder Maxwell never argued with me. It was because he never cared about our relationship in the first place. No wonder Maxwell never paid attention to my feelings. It was clear I didn’t matter to him. No wonder Maxwell had been so frantic when he fell down the stairs and broke his leg. It wasn’t because he was in a rush to see me but because Eleanor’s unexpected return had unsettled him. I forced myself to hold back the tears, taking screenshots of everything as evidence. I suddenly realized that maybe this was for the best. At least now, I wouldn’t be softhearted anymore. If I hadn’t accidentally overheard his comments behind my back, if I hadn’t found his secret Twitter account, I might have lived my whole life deceived, foolishly believing he had truly given up on his first love. I finally saw through Maxwell’s charming exterior, recognizing the darkness within. I understood now that all his love for me had been a lie. Now, I no longer had any reason to continue this relationship. At that moment, my boss, Jasper Blackwood, called. I took a deep breath, trying to steady my voice. “Adeline, there’s an opportunity to work at our Peregrinia branch. I wanted to ask if you’d be interested. You’d be stepping straight into a director’s position, and this opportunity is quite rare.” Jasper tried to persuade me earnestly. This wasn’t the first time a promotion had come my way. Last time, because I wanted to settle down with Maxwell in Eldoria, I firmly turned down the opportunity to work in Fendell, even though it had once been a dream I truly cherished. But now, there was nothing left worth giving up my dreams for. “Thank you for offering me this opportunity. I’m willing to take the position in Peregrinia.” My resolve to break up had never been stronger. My mind was desperately signaling for self-preservation. Even though my heart ached like it was being torn apart, I was willing to endure the pain. After hanging up, I immediately booked a flight to Peregrinia for a few days later. Once discharged from the hospital, I went straight home and packed up all my belongings. During this time, I didn’t run into Maxwell. I guessed he was still busy with Eleanor. The next day, while sitting in a taxi on my way to the airport, I saw Maxwell’s Twitter account had been updated the night before. [At our reunion, my heart couldn’t help but betray the longing within.] The picture showed him and Eleanor holding hands, fingers tightly intertwined. I calmly swiped past it, but the pain in my chest still lingered, faint yet sharp. Then Maxwell sent me a message. I guessed he must have noticed the changes at home. [You were discharged yesterday? Where are you?] I didn’t reply. He called me repeatedly, but I hung up each time. Finally, a minute before I boarded the plane, an unknown number called. I answered, and Maxwell’s anxious voice came through the phone. “Adeline, where have you gone? When are you coming home?” I smiled quietly, keeping my tone calm. “Maxwell, I know Eleanor is back. She’s the one you truly love, isn’t she?” I laughed bitterly, mercilessly exposing his scheme. “Now that she’s back, it’s only right that I, as her substitute, should step aside.” The announcement that the plane was about to take off came at just the right moment. I heard Maxwell gritting his teeth and shouting, “Adeline, where the hell are you?!”

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During college, I broke the heart of the richest, most sought-after heiress around. Three years later, my apartment’s pipes burst in the middle of the night, so I crashed at my friend’s place. In the dark, I stumbled into the guest bedroom, only to end up lying next to her. She smirked with a wicked grin, “What’s this? Rekindle an old affair?” Panic hit me like a freight train, and I tried to bolt, but she grabbed my arm and pulled me back. “What’s wrong? You think you can just leave after showing up?” In my dream, there was warmth in my arms, soft and sweet. Just as my heart began to race and I was about to make my move, a sharp pain jolted through my ear. I shot awake, only to be met with the very pair of bright eyes that had haunted my dreams for years. Below them, her lips moved, teasing and cold. “Elias, it’s been so long, and now you sneak into my room? What’s this? Rekindle an old affair?” Panicked, I pulled my ear free and jumped out of bed, my face a kaleidoscope of red and pale. It was Cassandra Brooks, my ex-girlfriend. What the hell was I doing in bed with her? Her long hair fell loosely over her shoulders, and she wore nothing but a thin, nearly transparent camisole. Her curves were impossible to ignore. I stammered, “Why… why are you here?” “I should be asking you that.” Guilt weighed me down as I tried to make a quick escape, but she grabbed my wrist, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “What’s wrong? You think you can just leave after showing up?” How the hell was I supposed to know that after my apartment’s pipes burst, crashing at my buddy’s place in the middle of the night would land me in bed next to her? The commotion must have woken the owner of the house. Logan Bennett shuffled toward us in his pajamas, his voice cutting through the hallway before he even stepped in. “What the hell are you yelling about in the middle of the night?” When he finally saw me, his eyes went wide with disbelief. “Holy shit! What are you doing here?” I let out a helpless laugh. “My pipes burst, so I came to crash here.” Logan pulled me aside, his expression shifting into one of exaggerated amusement. “She’s my cousin. Don’t tell me… you two just spent the night together?” I wanted to crawl into a hole and disappear. Of all the people in the world, Cassandra Brooks was the last person I wanted to see. She was the girl I had once loved with all my heart, but fate had never been on our side.

Back in college, Cassandra was the untouchable goddess of our school. The first time I saw her at a club event, it was love at first sight. I heard she was a rich girl, one of those people who had their heads in the clouds and their feet nowhere near the ground. But then, one day, fate gave me a chance. She sprained her ankle in the locker room and hobbled out, her face pale and slick with sweat. I happened to walk by, and without a second thought, I scooped her up and carried her to the infirmary. From that day on, we became friends. I soon discovered that behind her aloof exterior, she was surprisingly down-to-earth. She had a habit of forgetting things, always losing track of her belongings. She would text me constantly, asking me to pick up this or bring her that. “You’re the most attentive guy in the world,” she once told me. “You know all my favorite things and always cheer me up. Are you sure you don’t have a girlfriend? You seem way too experienced for this.” I laughed. “Nope. You’re the first.” Her eyes sparkled as she reached out and held my hand for the first time. As we spent more time together, I realized why people called her a goddess. It wasn’t just her beauty. She was the queen of her elite social circle, effortlessly charming, and always in control. But she confided in me, saying she hated the pretentiousness of her world and found my simplicity refreshing. It made me happy. I introduced her to the joys of a more grounded life. Whenever I earned a little extra money from helping my professor with research, I would take her out to eat at food stalls and hole-in-the-wall diners. Sometimes, she would offer to pay, but I always refused. “Paying the bill is a man’s responsibility,” I told her. I couldn’t give her the luxurious life she was used to, but I gave her everything I could. Those days felt like heaven. But our love was fragile. Ordinary. The kind of love that couldn’t withstand a storm.

One day, Adrian Cross, a guy from another department, showed up out of nowhere. “I’m Cassandra’s fiancé,” he said. “Stay away from her.” I stared at him in shock. “She’s never told me she’s engaged.” “It’s an arrangement between our families. You think you can be her boyfriend? What can you offer her? Drag her down?” I didn’t believe him, and we argued. He smirked arrogantly. “Let me show you her world.” He had me disguise myself, and then he took me to a lavish villa. There she was, perfectly poised with immaculate makeup, her hair swept up elegantly. She wore a custom gown that highlighted her beauty, moving through the crowd like royalty. She was the hostess, exuding grace and confidence as she charmed every guest. Adrian turned to me with a sneer. “Look at her. She’s a queen, and you’re nothing but a nobody. She doesn’t need a guy who takes her to street food stalls. She needs someone who can stand beside her, shoulder to shoulder.” I glanced down at my sneakers and jeans, feeling completely out of place. But I clenched my jaw and said, “She likes me just the way I am.” Adrian laughed, a cruel, mocking sound. “Sure. She likes a lot of guys like you. Check her phone if you don’t believe me. The contacts in her phone are categorized. Our circle is one group, and you… you’re in another.” The next day, I couldn’t resist. When Cassandra left to use the restroom, I took a peek at her phone. Sure enough, I found myself listed as a code and a number, grouped with several others. When she returned, I asked her directly. “Am I boring you?” She blinked in surprise. “Boring? No way. I love spending time with you. You make me feel relaxed. I don’t have to pretend around you.” “Do you feel that way about anyone else?” She tilted her head, considering. “Well, there are a few others, I guess.” My heart sank. “And in your future, is there a place for me?” “Of course,” she said with a teasing smile. “You’ll come to work with me at my family’s company. There’s this trendy term now, ‘live-in son-in-law.’ What do you think?” She looked at me playfully as if it were all a harmless joke. But it wasn’t what I wanted. I wanted to stand as her equal. One night, after we finished a movie, something inside me gave out. “Let’s break up,” I said. Her eyes widened in disbelief, but her pride quickly took over. “Fine. But don’t come crawling back later.” She texted me after that, but I blocked her. And just like that, three years passed. I heard she moved abroad.

Logan’s jaw practically hit the floor. “So, you and Cassandra, huh? No wonder she was so down for a while back then. She wouldn’t talk to anyone, just locked herself in her room for weeks.” I couldn’t imagine her being sad over me. Her phone had listed seven or eight people in the same group as me, each with their own impersonal code. I was just one of many. “Getting dumped always stings. That’s nothing new,” I muttered, brushing it off. The next day, I had to go to work and figure out who could fix my apartment’s busted pipes. In the morning, I left quickly, not wanting to cross paths with her again. I worked as a project manager at an IT company, and we had a major meeting scheduled with a corporate client. When my team and I arrived at the client’s headquarters, the person greeting us was none other than Cassandra. My scalp tingled, and I fought the urge to bolt. There was no escaping this. “The timeline for this project is tight,” she said, her tone cool but professional. “The workload is heavy, and many of the deliverables will require in-person meetings with me.” I nodded. “We’ve secured the bid, so we’ll give it our all.” She turned her gaze directly on me. “Elias, could you step into my office? I’d like to discuss some details privately.” I followed her, trying to steady my nerves. Her office was sleek and modern, with a stark elegance that didn’t quite match the soft, gentle image I remembered. The tailored suit she wore, though, fit her perfectly, accentuating her poise and commanding presence. We went over the project specifics, and I responded to each point. Then she asked a question out of nowhere. “With such a demanding project, won’t your girlfriend mind you working late nights?” I shook my head, unsure why she cared. And then, for reasons I couldn’t explain, I blurted out, “Will your boyfriend mind you pulling late nights with us?” She leaned back in her chair, speaking slowly. “My boyfriend? He’s temperamental, a bit spoiled.” The words stung. I figured she meant Adrian, and the thought left a bitter taste in my mouth. “Then maybe you shouldn’t stay too late,” I said awkwardly. “We can update you on any issues in the morning.” She didn’t reply, just stared at me for a moment before getting up and sitting down next to me.

I scooted away, trying to keep my distance. She reached out and grabbed my sleeve. “Why did you block me? If we can’t be lovers, can’t we at least be friends?” Her words twisted something inside me. Did she really think I had a choice? She leaned in closer, her breath brushing against my face, carrying a faint, familiar fragrance. ” Elias, I…” Cassandra started, but before she could finish, a knock on the door interrupted us. Adrian walked in and said, “Oh, sorry. I didn’t know you had a guest.” He stopped abruptly when he saw me. Then he turned to me, his eyes narrowing. “Well, well, if it isn’t Elias. Long time no see. I hear you’re a project manager now. Congrats.” The sight of him dredged up old memories, filling my chest with a sour jealousy that I struggled to suppress. He strolled over to Cassandra and casually slipped an arm around her waist. “What do you feel like eating tonight?” he asked her, his tone intimate. “I’ve already made reservations.” Then he glanced at me, smirking. “Care to join us?” I stood abruptly, gathering my things. “Thanks, but I already have plans. My girlfriend’s waiting for me.” I nodded stiffly. “Excuse me.” Cassandra froze, her expression unreadable, as I walked out under Adrian’s mocking gaze. My chest felt tight, and my long-buried emotions shattered into pieces. The girlfriend I mentioned wasn’t real. I was referring to Elena West, a former classmate who had pursued me relentlessly during college. Back then, I had rejected her. Years later, we reconnected when her family’s company partnered with ours on a project. During those months, she had organized countless dinners under the guise of client relations, always trying to get me drunk. Her predatory gaze made me uneasy, and I instinctively kept my distance. But at that moment, I needed her name as a shield.

I hadn’t expected this project to be with Brooks Enterprises or that Cassandra would now be running the company. I did everything I could to avoid her. Unless she explicitly summoned me, I stayed away. Even when she called for me, I always brought a colleague along to share the responsibility of presenting updates. I noticed Adrian in her office several times. He was relaxed, at home there. Sometimes, even during serious project discussions, Adrian would linger, casually listening or throwing in the occasional comment. The company rumor mill painted the two of them as a power couple, their relationship practically common knowledge. One night, when everyone else had left, I stayed behind, stuck debugging a particularly stubborn section of code. I was so absorbed in my work that I didn’t hear the footsteps approaching. A hand appeared in my peripheral vision, holding a cup of coffee. Startled, I turned too quickly and accidentally knocked the cup over, spilling its contents all over Cassandra. Panicking, I grabbed a napkin and started dabbing at the stain. But the moment my hand brushed against her, I froze. The fabric was thin, and beneath it, the sensation was soft and warm. Realizing what I was doing, I yanked my hand away and stood stiffly to the side, waiting for her inevitable reprimand. Cassandra sighed, “Go buy me something to change into.” I dashed downstairs to a 24-hour convenience store and bought her a blouse and a pair of pants. After a moment’s hesitation, I also picked up a set of undergarments. I had noticed the coffee had soaked through. When I handed her the bag, she stepped closer, pinning me against the desk. “You still remember my size?” she asked, her voice low and teasing. “Haven’t you noticed how I’ve changed over the years?” I turned my face away, my thoughts in chaos. “You’ve kept in great shape,” I mumbled. “But I did buy the top a size bigger.” When she emerged after changing, she looked like the girl I used to know, the one who had shared street food with me on warm college nights. She opened her mouth to say something, but my phone buzzed with a call that couldn’t wait. I answered quickly. “Yeah, I’m on my way.” I turned to her, holding up my phone apologetically. “I’ve got an emergency at home. Gotta run. See you.” Without waiting for her response, I grabbed my things and bolted out the door. The call was from my neighbor. Apparently, the repair on my pipes hadn’t worked, and water had leaked into his apartment. I had no choice but to return home shut off the water supply entirely, and accept the harsh reality. Just as the repairman had warned, it might be time for a full renovation. Once again, I turned to my buddy Logan for help. “You can crash at my place. I’ll be out on business trips all week,” he said. I hesitated for a moment before asking, “Cassandra isn’t staying there, is she?”

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At an auction I hosted, my wife won a limited-edition luxury car for fifty million dollars. She handed over the car keys to her male partner on the spot, drawing cheers from the crowd. Everyone exclaimed that love was blatant favoritism. Everyone’s attention was focused on the well-matched “couple”. No one noticed the real husband of the heroine gritting his teeth and swallowing all his emotions on the auction block. I thought this marriage had come to an end. The moment the hammer dropped, my wife, Rachel Johnson, walked up to me and took the keys, giving me a scornful look before turning toward Oliver Kensington. To the amazement of the crowd, she handed Oliver the keys to her fifty-million-dollar limousine. At that instant, cheers and applause resounded throughout the hall. The flash focused on the two while my stomach suddenly twisted, and I almost vomited blood. I clenched my teeth and tried desperately to swallow all my emotions. My coworker, who was beside me, was the first to notice and took me to the hospital. I had a stomach relapse because I was so emotional. But my wife, Rachel, never showed up. She was embracing Oliver for an interview with a reporter. That reporter asked, “Ms. Johnson, may I ask if this man is your husband?” The business world knew that Rachel had a husband she had been married to for five years but never showed and that she had a beloved childhood friend. So the reporter was eager to confirm the identity of the man next to Rachel. “He’s the love of my life,” smiled Rachel softly while Oliver, at her side, puffed out his chest. Her vague answer made the reporter keenly aware of something, so that reporter just nodded. I watched the video as I lay in the hospital bed, a sharp pain in my heart. I had been married to Rachel for five years, and our marriage was a casualty of two large business families. But I was in love with Rachel. However, Rachel had never acknowledged me in public. She said, “I don’t want to upset Oliver, and I hope you understand.” So, all this time, I had been performing the role of a reasonable husband, quietly doing the job I loved. The young nurse came in muttering, her tone disgruntled, “Where’s your wife? Why hasn’t she shown up by now? If she doesn’t show up later, this checklist…” “I’ll just sign it myself,” I interrupted the young nurse. She choked on her words and looked a little distressed for me. She wanted to say something else but eventually just sighed. I walked out of the hospital alone after signing and paying the bill. The blinding sunlight made me squint. In a blur, I saw Rachel. She was holding Oliver on her arm as she got into the limousine she had just won. Oliver’s car shone even brighter in the sunlight. Inside the large villa, I was the only one most of the time. But Rachel was surprisingly back today, carefully holding Oliver up. “Benjamin, sorry to bother you. I broke my foot. Rachel said she didn’t feel comfortable leaving me alone,” said Oliver, holding his ankle out. There was a faint redness on it that I couldn’t even tell if I didn’t look at it deliberately. “Okay.” I nodded and got up, ready to go upstairs, only to be stopped by Rachel. She said, “You’re sleeping in the guest bedroom today. Oliver has a broken foot, and the bed in the main bedroom is better for him.” I was stunned. The bed in the main bedroom had been given to me by my mother, Aurora Wellington. Back then, Rachel had offended the gangsters for Oliver. A car with no license plate sped toward her. I subconsciously rushed forward to push her out of the way. Pain spread throughout my body. But I saw her get up in a hurry and ask Oliver, who was standing by, if he was hurt, without noticing me, who had already been covered in bruises. When I woke up again, I learned that I had a shattered calf. After that, the only way I wouldn’t feel pain was to sleep in a customized bed. I said, “But I…” “Will you stop fighting with the patient?” Rachel interrupted me impatiently. She helped Oliver into the elevator, leaving me standing alone in the living room. I had no choice but to sleep in the guest bedroom. The bed in the guest bedroom was uncomfortable. The discomfort in my calf, combined with the fact that I’d only just had stomach surgery, kept me in tears all night. I thought it was time for me to give up on Rachel.

Early in the morning, I could hear cheerful laughter downstairs. Oliver was playing with Rachel with a cookie. He held the cookie close to Rachel’s mouth and took it away before Rachel could open her mouth. The two finally notice me behind them as they play and laugh. Rachel cleared her throat and said, “You’re awake. Let’s have breakfast.” I sat across from them in silence. Oliver pouted, seemingly annoyed that I had disturbed them. “Stop by from work tonight and bring Oliver back a cake,” said Rachel to me as if giving an order. My hand paused, and I said, “I’m not available.” The crisp sound of clinking cutlery echoed through the dining room. I didn’t look at Rachel’s face as I hurriedly finished my glass of milk and carried my bag out the door. There were a lot of collections up for auction today. I was sitting backstage, memorizing, when I heard a commotion outside. A man said, “Ms. Johnson really loves her childhood friend.” Another man said, “Isn’t she married? She’s cheating like that, isn’t she?” A woman said, “She and her husband are in a business union, not in a relationship. She’s in true love with her childhood friend. If it wasn’t for the fact that her childhood friend is not as well off as that man…” The other woman said, “Yes. That man broke them up, so he must be afraid to come out and say anything.” Listening to the discussion outside, I lowered my head. I was the man who broke up Rachel and Oliver’s love. I couldn’t help but laugh to myself at the thought before dialing my home number. “Dad, Mom…” For some reason, my voice choked the moment I opened my mouth. There was silence on the other end of the line for a moment. “Come back.” “Okay.” Hanging up the phone, I gathered myself together and stepped up to the auction block, seeing Rachel sitting in the audience. She was sitting with Oliver. Oliver had his arm around her, and the two looked very affectionate. People at Rachel’s level basically consigned auctions by phone. Just because Oliver liked to make a splash, she accompanied him in and out of the major auction venues to buy things for him. “It’s ready to go,” my coworker whispered to remind me. I took a deep breath, put on a professional smile, and began to introduce the first collection of the day. It was an exquisite handmade mechanical wristwatch with a starting bid of one and a half million dollars. I faintly heard Oliver’s voice. “Rachel, I like it.” The next second, Rachel raised her hand. “Five million dollars.” The audience erupted in shock. I was stunned and then started counting down. There were no more bids, so the watch was auctioned off to Rachel. She wore the watch on Oliver’s hand as she had done the last time and held his hand up high like a general who had won a battle. Watching this scene, I was calm. Rachel should be receiving the divorce agreement soon. She slowly lowered Oliver’s hand in front of the crowd. Once seated, she took out her cell phone, her smile slowly fading. I professionally began to introduce the next collection when I was suddenly interrupted by Rachel, “Benjamin, do you really want a divorce?” The audience was instantly silent. Gradually, they began to whisper while the smile on Oliver’s face disappeared. After all, it was the first time Rachel had recognized me in public. I smiled and said gently, “Ms. Johnson, please don’t interrupt my work.” After that, I continued to introduce the collection. The crowd in the venue no longer wanted to listen to my introduction and looked at Rachel and me. As I introduced one item, Rachel would auction off one at five times the price. The audience let out a gasp of surprise. But Oliver’s expression was terrible. The last collection item was a pure gold brooch, with a starting bid of one million dollars. Rachel bid ten million dollars and won. She slowly walked up and picked up the brooch, pinning it to my collar. Rachel said, “Benjamin, stop pretending. Didn’t you just want me to publicize you? Now, you’ve succeeded.” With that, she patted me on the shoulder before turning to leave. Oliver gave me a grim look, then left after Rachel.

Reporters in the audience rushed forward, their microphones almost in my mouth. A female reporter asked, “Mr. Wellington, are you Ms. Johnson’s husband?” A male reporter asked, “Mr. Wellington, may I ask if you intentionally staged today’s scene?” Another female reporter asked, “Did you purposely break up Mr. Kensington and Ms. Johnson?” Question after question swamped me. Finally, with the help of my colleague, I returned backstage. Looking at the brooch on my collar, I felt an inexplicable surge of pain in my heart. Rachel still didn’t understand me after all these years. By the time I got home, it was already ten in the evening. Rachel was sitting on the couch with a cold face while Oliver was smoking a cigarette. Seeing me, Oliver said, his voice extremely hoarse, “Benjamin, you didn’t have to embarrass me in front of so many people.” Oliver sounded aggrieved, but I burst out laughing. Who was embarrassing who? Ignoring him, I headed straight upstairs to pack my suitcase. But Rachel’s voice sounded behind me. “Benjamin, our marriage is not child’s play. I hope you think it over.” Her voice was cold. I sped up my packing. Until I closed the suitcase, I turned to look into Rachel’s eyes and said, “Rachel, I’ve thought this through. Please sign the divorce agreement as soon as possible.” With that, I lifted my suitcase, passing Rachel to go downstairs. In a rare move, she chased after me. But she said, “Benjamin, Oliver is not easy on his own. What’s wrong with me giving him more? You’ve got everything. Do you have to take it from him? Benjamin, are you that petty?” All the way to the living room, I stopped. Oliver was still sitting on the couch, smoking one cigarette after another. He said, “Rachel, I’d better leave. Don’t argue with Benjamin.” With that, he got up and limped toward the front door. Rachel rushed to help him, and the two began to pull at each other. I just felt upset. It wasn’t the first time this kind of drama had played out in front of me. Once upon a time, I would have gone crazy asking Oliver to leave, accusing him of everything in front of Rachel. But at the moment, I just wanted to leave. I coldly put my suitcase in the trunk and quickly got in the car. Then, I started the car and drove away. I saw Rachel’s surprised look in the rearview mirror. Until she became a distant black dot, I let out a long breath as if I had let go of a heavy burden. When I got home, Aurora and my father, Kenneth Wellington, were standing in the doorway. Kenneth patted me lovingly on the shoulder. “Get some rest. I’ll take care of the rest.” I nodded, tears pouring down my face. Aurora hurriedly put a coat on me and went inside with me, holding my hand tightly. I had only just sat down when Rachel messaged me: [Where are you? What gives you the right to just leave? Benjamin, reply to my message.] I didn’t reply after reading it and put my phone down, taking the hot cocoa that Aurora handed me. I took a sip, feeling warm and sweet. In five years, I had never felt so relieved. At that moment, the doorbell rang. Rachel entered with an angry look, which only subsided a little when she saw Kenneth and Aurora. “Kenneth, Aurora, I’ve come to take Benjamin home.” With that, she sat down on the couch. Aurora sneered, “Rachel, the Wellington family isn’t necessarily joining forces with the Johnson family. “We know how much my son has suffered in the five years since he married you. “He’s too good-tempered to argue with you. But I’m his mother, and I can’t let you get away with this.” Hearing Aurora’s words, Rachel was stunned on the couch. She hadn’t expected Aurora to say that. Whenever I ran away from home before, Aurora would send us away with kind words whenever Rachel came to pick me up. This time, Aurora’s words went beyond what she expected. Rachel looked over at me, her mouth opening and closing, failing to utter a word. At that moment, the door was pushed open, and Oliver came running in with red eyes. He said, “Mr. Wellington, Mrs. Wellington, it’s all my fault. It’s my fault for making Benjamin angry. Benjamin, please forgive Rachel.” With that, he nearly fell to the ground, and Rachel rushed to help him up. Watching the scene, I said, “Rachel, send Oliver away, and I’ll go back with you.”

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The CEO, well-known in the entertainment industry, is said to have a significant love interest abroad, and rumors suggest that the painting in the group’s lobby is her creation. “Honestly, the painting is mediocre and should have been replaced ages ago,” I remarked offhandedly, sparking widespread ridicule online. A fellow female guest on the show openly questioned my taste. “It’s surprising that you’re a Media Studies student who studied abroad, yet you seem to lack taste and make such bold comments.” I typed out a question mark slowly. Wait, is the painting I did at 13 really that impressive? — “Ms. Hazel, are you okay?” The producer assigned to me for the show eyed me cautiously. She was worried I might not handle the flood of online criticism and might leave the show. After all, this online reality show initially invited eight Media Academy students to intern at an entertainment company. They were competing for the sole position available. The budget was minimal, and they hadn’t expected it to gain traction. Now it’s trending at the top. I relaxed in a beanbag chair, taking calls and shrugging off the situation. Most of the trending topics were criticisms aimed at me. “Who knew such an arrogant person existed? Who does she think she is?” “Doesn’t she know who Ezra Carter is? How dare she say something like that?” “Replying to the poster: Haven’t you seen her resume? She just returned from studying abroad. She probably thinks she’s amazing now and dares to comment freely!” There were even people who didn’t know the backstory asking what had happened. Ezra Carter’s fans swiftly posted two video comparisons. One was from an early interview with Ezra Carter, where he was asked why the company lobby features a large painting. He wore a black suit and white shirt, looking cool and indifferent. But when answering the question, his expression turned serious and solemn. “This is a piece I cherish deeply, and it holds significant meaning for me.” The other video was a segment from the online reality show. The production team introduced us to several major entertainment companies in the country. With a small budget, they could only leverage the popularity of these large companies. When mentioning the country’s leading Carter Entertainment Group— Everyone was amazed by the giant painting hanging from the 10-meter-high ceiling of the star-rated lobby. And I, an unknown amateur, regretfully shook my head, seemingly unimpressed, commenting that the painting was average. Seeing these two video comparisons, all the bystanders had a unified thought— Wow, girl, who are you to act so cocky? Daring to criticize Mr. Wesley’s taste? — So, even before the show aired, it went viral. I hadn’t even done anything yet and was already drowning in criticism. On the phone, my assistant handling the painting ownership in the country pulled my attention back. “I’ll bring all the documents for the paintings under your name for you to sign if you visit Carter Entertainment Group.” “Including those bought by Mr. Wesley, you still need to authorize them, as it’s part of the process.” I agreed absentmindedly, hanging up. I turned my gaze back to the producer. “Producer, do you honestly think that painting is that good?” I asked incredulously. The way the entire internet criticized me made it seem like I was dismissing Van Gogh’s ‘Starry Night.’ The producer hesitantly chose her words. “Well, how should I put it? It is Mr. Wesley’s beloved painting. You might not know this abroad, but Mr. Wesley is the top eligible bachelor in entertainment. Not only is he handsome, but he also invests and does a lot of charity!” “I believe Mr. Wesley’s taste is impeccable,” she said with admiration. “Look at the painting, the dark tone with large white feathers, and the bleeding heart at the center—” “Isn’t it romantic! It’s the representation of Mr. Wesley’s inner self! Both dark and light, devil and angel.” “But his heart is as sincere as a child’s.” I was dumbfounded. Wasn’t this just a realistic piece I painted at 13 after witnessing a chicken being slaughtered at home, leaving me with a psychological shadow? Yet it’s interpreted like this?! — Perhaps my stare was too shocked, as the producer awkwardly composed herself and returned to the main topic. “The director thinks we should capitalize on the current buzz with you and Phoebe Taylor. We should record and broadcast simultaneously to capture this wave of attention.” Besides me, the current hot topic online was Phoebe Taylor. Because after my “disrespectful” comment on the painting, she stood up to challenge me. “The most important thing is to be humble, especially since we’re also going to intern at Carter Entertainment Group. At least show some respect,” Phoebe said, tall and with tightly furrowed brows. “Which eye of yours saw me being disrespectful? Can’t a painting be criticized?” Her hostility towards me was baffling. All participants in this job experience show were amateurs, never having been on a show, and were somewhat timid in front of the camera. The remaining guests exchanged glances, watching the tension between us. Who knew our conflict would be so intense? “Don’t you know this is the most cherished painting of Carter Entertainment’s CEO? By saying that, you’re implying Mr. Wesley has bad taste,” she retorted without backing down. “Who are you to him to speak for him like this?” I countered. I intended to mock her, but Phoebe blushed and fell silent upon hearing my words. Oh? Is there really something going on? Wesley Carter and I grew up together, and I know everything about him, even if a mosquito flies by. Where did this woman come from? — Open conflicts like these are rare in the entertainment industry, especially with Phoebe hinting at an ambiguous relationship with Carter Entertainment’s CEO. The show’s director immediately saw this as a goldmine and quickly released a teaser. Sure enough, the buzz skyrocketed. There’s no way to back out now. I joined this show only because Wesley Carter had to make an urgent trip abroad for a business deal. According to the original plan, this small segment would be recorded within a week. I thought it would be boring, so when a talent scout approached me at the airport, I agreed immediately. Little did I know it would cause such a big misunderstanding. Due to high online discussion, the production team fully embraced the hype. Today’s recording session was directly changed to a visit to Carter Entertainment. After a few days without shooting, when we met again, Phoebe was surrounded like a star. I boarded the bus for departure, and as soon as she saw me, her voice grew louder. “I just can’t stand some people who arrogantly judge others, thinking they’re something special because they studied Media Studies abroad!” “Better than coming from a no-name school, right?” I retorted. She was the least educated among us. I wasn’t one to take insults lying down, plus her hinting at a relationship with Wesley Carter annoyed me. The bus staff immediately started whispering: “Seems like Hazel Wood has a bit of a temper, and she was really arrogant when she judged that painting.” “Maybe she’s just a spoiled rich girl. Haven’t you noticed she’s wearing all designer clothes?” “Even if her family is wealthy, she shouldn’t be so rude!” I ignored the chatter, finding a seat to sit alone. Phoebe, flushed from my retort, was defended by another amateur guest, Adeline. “Phoebe was kindly reminding you. Don’t forget Chinese humility just because you went abroad.” “How am I not humble? That painting is—” I turned to say it was mine, but Phoebe cut me off. “Forget it, Adeline, don’t bother. I don’t want to cause trouble for Brother Ezra.” What? Brother Ezra? Not just me, everyone caught that title. I kept silent, watching her with interest. I wanted to see what she was up to. “I actually didn’t want to say this.” Under the persistent questioning of everyone, Phoebe blushed. “We’ve known each other since we were very young. He’s helped me a lot over the years, and I’m very grateful to him.” “So when someone insults him, I couldn’t help but defend him.” She glanced at me as if I forced her to get angry. Adeline echoed, “Known each other since childhood… really?” She seemed to remember something, “Could it be, are you the childhood sweetheart of Mr. Wesley?!” Wesley Carter has only ever acknowledged a childhood sweetheart. It’s rumored that the painting in the lobby was also created by this childhood sweetheart. But no one knows what she looks like. Phoebe neither denied nor confirmed it, simply tucking her hair behind her ear. Isn’t that as good as admitting it? Well, why don’t you just say you’re me! I couldn’t help but mock, “Does Wesley Carter even know you? Do you know which elementary, middle, and high school he went to?” “Do you know?” Phoebe smirked, “Or are all your actions just to get his attention?” Phoebe’s words were like a bombshell, and the crew immediately started discussing. “Isn’t Mr. Wesley rumored to be marrying his childhood sweetheart?” This isn’t just an assumption, right? Fine, why don’t you just claim to be me and be done with it? I couldn’t help but mock, “Does Wesley Carter even know you? Do you know which schools he attended in elementary, middle, and high school?” Phoebe Taylor shot back with a sardonic smile, “Do you know? Or maybe everything you’ve done was just to get his attention?” Phoebe’s words were like a spark, igniting a flurry of discussion among the staff present. “Isn’t there a rumor that Mr. Wesley is going to marry his childhood sweetheart?” “The show hit the jackpot! Let’s get this clip out immediately!” “We’re going to make a fortune! This is definitely going viral!” The director was so thrilled he couldn’t contain his excitement, his grin almost splitting his face. “Phoebe, we’re visiting Carter Entertainment Group today. Could you help us out? If we could film a show there, it would be amazing—” Phoebe seemed a bit hesitant. “I’m not sure if Brother Ezra is around today. The company has its procedures, so the chances aren’t high. I’ll try my best.” Her words were carefully crafted, leaving no room for misunderstanding. “Oh, you’re such a great help! Truly a blessing!” The director exuberantly shook Phoebe’s hand. After getting off the bus, the group headed straight to the reception desk at Carter Entertainment Group, all eyes eagerly on Phoebe Taylor. Hoping she could somehow get the production team access to film directly at Carter. She cleared her throat and stepped forward under everyone’s watchful gaze. I stood off to the side, arms crossed, watching her with a cool detachment. As expected, the receptionist denied her request. “We have a specific department for such matters. If you want to apply, you’ll need to contact our event planning department.” Phoebe was refused on the spot, her embarrassment evident. The nearby producer began to whisper. “Didn’t she claim to be Wesley Carter’s childhood sweetheart? Why wouldn’t the receptionist show her some respect?” “Maybe the receptionist doesn’t recognize her?” Phoebe cleared her throat, snapping at the receptionist with a touch of arrogance, “I don’t blame you for not understanding! Where’s your supervisor? Get them here!” Adeline tried to smooth things over beside her, “They really can’t read the room. Do they think we’re just an ordinary production team?” Phoebe managed to regain some composure, smiling as she attempted to reclaim her dignity. Ms. Cao, the reception supervisor, came out and listened to the receptionist’s report. Afterward, she turned to Phoebe and said, “I’m sorry, but we can’t help you with this. I can refer you to our event planning department…” Ms. Cao’s gaze met mine as I stood behind her. She abruptly stopped mid-sentence, “Miss…” She swallowed the rest of her words before she could exclaim. Following my request, my relationship with Wesley Carter was kept well-hidden from the public. If she let it slip, she’d really be risking her job. “One moment.” She immediately reported to her superiors with her headset. I figured she was unsure why I came with a group and was likely contacting Wesley Carter’s assistant. Ms. Cao hung up and gave a professional smile, “I’ve reported it. Mr. Wesley’s assistant will come to meet you soon, and you can discuss the details with him.” The crowd’s view of Phoebe instantly shifted to admiration. “Phoebe! You really do know Mr. Wesley!” Adeline exclaimed, her voice a mix of surprise and joy, holding Phoebe’s hand with excitement. Even Phoebe seemed surprised but steadied herself, managing a pleased smile. “So he really remembers me…” she murmured. Yeah right, I rolled my eyes. I’m not curious anymore about what kind of person she is. I’m more interested in seeing how she’ll cover up her lies in the end! Everyone started fawning over Phoebe. “Phoebe, there’s a rumor that the painting in the lobby was done by Mr. Wesley’s childhood sweetheart. Was it really you?” Phoebe smugly twirled her hair, “You said it’s a rumor, so of course, it’s not true.” They all realized they’d just learned a piece of gossip unknown to others. We might even get to shoot the show at Carter! Phoebe singlehandedly occupied two cameras for filming. I chuckled coldly, “It’s better to be honest. If someone exposes you have no connection with Wesley Carter, that lie’s gonna be huge.” Phoebe gritted her teeth. At this point, there was no way she’d admit it. “If you’re jealous, just say so. Apologize to me, and I’ll let your comments about the painting slide.” I suppressed the urge to slap her, shaking my head speechlessly. Remy, Wesley Carter’s assistant, came running over to us, out of breath. Seeing such a large group, and my stern face, he was unsure what was going on. He spoke as if to everyone but was really addressing me, “Mr. Wesley has returned from his overseas trip early, but it’ll be a bit longer. Why don’t we wait in his office?” Wesley Carter came back early? I hadn’t had a chance to react before I heard the staff’s excited chatter. The director was incredulous, “Is Mr. Wesley inviting us? What an honor!” “Going to his office? Oh my gosh, am I dreaming?” “Phoebe Taylor really is Mr. Wesley’s childhood sweetheart!” Everyone looked at Phoebe with even more admiration, practically ready to worship her. Phoebe herself was surprised it was so easy. She hesitated, “Wouldn’t it be too much of a bother?” “What, scared?” I mocked. “Or are you worried your lies will be exposed when you see Wesley Carter?” “Of course not!” she snapped back. “Why would I be scared? Besides, isn’t everyone getting to go to his office because of me?” I raised an eyebrow, “Good, I hope you stay bold until the end. Don’t cry and beg when you’re proven wrong.” “You should worry about yourself! Don’t you know how many people online are criticizing you?” “Then please, show them the way up.” I turned to Remy with a cold smile. The group made their way to Wesley Carter’s office on the top floor. As soon as they entered, they were all stunned by the office’s luxury. The office was filled with large paintings, more mature in style than the one in the lobby. I casually sat on the sofa, familiar with the place, while the others marveled at the luxurious office. Suddenly, a producer let out a short shriek, “Our video from Carter is already online! In just one minute, it has over ten thousand views!” Everyone was instantly excited. Carter Entertainment Group’s popularity was indeed impressive! “Everyone’s asking what Phoebe’s relationship with Mr. Wesley is. Phoebe, you have to give our show the exclusive!” “The comments are all praising Phoebe and criticizing Hazel Wood for being rude and jealous.” “She totally deserves it, she brought it on herself!” Phoebe basked in the compliments from the producers, casting a smug look at me. “You all sit tight, Mr. Wesley will be here soon.” The assistant glanced at my expression, not stopping the group’s activities. Once he left, a producer snuck a photo of Wesley Carter’s office and posted it online. Comments flooded in from Wesley Carter’s fans. “Is this really Wesley Carter’s office? The production team is amazing!” “Phoebe’s connection? Is she really Wesley Carter’s childhood sweetheart?” “Seems like it. Wesley Carter has never let anyone into his office before.” A staff member found a photo of Wesley Carter as a child with a girl on his desk. “Hey, come look! A photo of Mr. Wesley as a kid with a girl!” Everyone crowded around. I glanced at it, surprised he kept our childhood photo on his desk. Back then, I was taller than him, one arm around him like a boss, making a peace sign with the other. Wesley looked at me with something like admiration. That day, I had just fought off some boys who teased him for being girly, earning his full admiration. I smiled, feeling nostalgic. The director exclaimed, “Celeste! This photo you sent of your childhood looks just like the girl in this picture! Is this you as a kid?” My smile froze. Could this get any more ridiculous? The production team quickly pulled up a childhood photo of Celeste and zoomed in. As a kid, I was always out playing, darker and smaller, with some resemblance to Phoebe Taylor. The place erupted again. “Mr. Wesley has a photo with Phoebe Taylor on his desk?” “This can’t be fake; they must know each other!” The guests immediately praised her, “Celeste was cute as a kid too!” “What’s cute about that,” I snorted. “Besides, is this even you?” “If it’s not me, is it you?” Phoebe’s face darkened, “Hazel Wood, you’ve been mocking me non-stop. Do you really think I don’t have a temper?” I smirked sarcastically, “I just can’t stand liars barking around like dogs, pretending to be something they’re not.” At this point, a producer defended Phoebe, unable to tolerate my words. “They’re definitely involved. There’s no way this is fake!” The guests quickly chimed in with praise, “Celeste was really pretty as a child too!” “Pretty? What’s so pretty about it?” I sneered. “Besides, is that even you?” “If it’s not me, then is it you?” Phoebe Taylor’s expression soured. “Hazel Wood, you’ve been mocking me non-stop. Do you really think I won’t get upset?” I gave a sardonic smile. “I just can’t stand liars barking like dogs, pretending to be people.” At this point, a producer couldn’t ignore my remarks and came to Phoebe Taylor’s defense. “Hazel, last time you critiqued a painting, we thought it might be deliberate, but this time? You’re clearly doing it on purpose.”

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On a reality TV show, the guests were assigned to feed animals at the zoo. I was supposed to feed the monkeys. I held a small bucket and extended a banana in a friendly manner. The monkey yelled at me, “Get lost, you idiot!” I ate the banana myself and engaged in a heated argument with the monkey for two hours. Bystanders were stunned, the director was shocked, and so were the viewers watching the live stream. My name is Eloise Quinn. In my junior year of college, I was spotted by a talent scout and filmed a commercial. Among a group of beautiful girls with oval faces, I quickly stood out with my distinctively round face. The internet made me, and I became the so-called national sweetheart. The internet also ruined me, as I was falsely accused of being a two-faced bitch and a homewrecker. The reason was simply that Luke Young, a male actor I had worked with, drunkenly confessed his love for me in public, which was caught by paparazzi. The actor’s girlfriend was Wendy Sullivan, the daughter of Sullivan Group. She relentlessly pursued me, spreading rumors, throwing dirt, and launching an online bullying campaign. I’m sorry, I’m useless, I’m weak, I couldn’t bear the overwhelming malice. Under pressure from Sullivan Group, I was shelved by my company, Millennium Entertainment, and stripped of my right to speak on the internet… I chose to plan a grand finale with my death.

Standing on the 20th-floor rooftop of Sullivan Group, I held an amplified megaphone. “Bastards! You’re all bastards! You’re trying to drive me to death!” It was the peak of rush hour, and soon a crowd gathered below. “I’m Eloise Quinn, I’m not a homewrecker! I’m not a two-faced bitch!” The crowd below was in chaos, seemingly shouting something. I couldn’t hear them. They didn’t have megaphones. The wind on the rooftop was strong. I opened my mouth wide and roared. The wind rushed into my mouth, making me feel a bit nauseous. I cried and retched at the same time. Paparazzi, alerted by the commotion, set up their cameras. The flashes were dazzling, even in broad daylight. “Ugh— You’re all bullying me! I swear to God! I’ve never done anything wrong. Those who hurt me recklessly, I curse you with my life, may you all die a horrible death— ugh—” Soon, police cars arrived with their sirens blaring. They set up an air cushion below, but jumping from the 20th floor, even an air cushion wouldn’t help. If the posture was wrong, death was inevitable. People from Sullivan Group emerged behind me. A man in a suit extended his hand: “Miss Quinn, please calm down. We can negotiate whatever you want.” I recognized him, the head of the marketing department of Sullivan Group. He was the one who led the online attacks against me. He was afraid I would die here. “Scum! Bastard! Sullivan Group, you’ll go bankrupt sooner or later!” I shouted into the megaphone, my saliva splattering on it in excitement. “Ah, don’t come closer, don’t push me! Help—” I stared cruelly at the marketing head with a smile, then leaped off. You’re good at throwing dirt? I’ll cover you in dirt even with my death!

Death is a long moment of stillness. The first twenty-three years of my life unfurled before me like a scroll. “How pathetic, my descendant is such a disgrace.” An old, sighing voice sounded. A red-haired old man in a crimson robe appeared before me. Calling him an old man didn’t seem quite right; his face was weathered, but his muscles were well-developed, resembling King Kong. “I am the Wild Boar Spirit. In past ages, I was the one who cursed others. How times have changed, for my descendant to be cursed like this by others.” The muscular old man snorted coldly at me, “Well, I’ll pass on my ultimate skill to you. Don’t waste it.” With that, a red light shot into my forehead.

When I opened my eyes again, I smelled the pungent odor of disinfectant. It was a hospital. Accompanied by nurses’ screams of “She’s alive! She’s actually alive!”, a bunch of doctors in white coats rushed into the ward. “It’s a medical miracle! Her heart stopped for five minutes, and she’s still alive!” “Quick, hook her up to the machines! I need to write an eight-thousand-word report on this.” “Dr. Li, please calm down, take it easy.” Following a young doctor’s words, an elderly man with graying hair excitedly stared at the machines, fiddling with them. He announced: everything was normal. Then, he himself fainted. Later I learned that Dr. Lee, in his sixties, had worked tirelessly for sixteen hours without sleep to save me. Life is so precious in the eyes of these medical staff, yet I had taken it lightly. I regretted it, I felt ashamed. However, more than that was anger. If anger could turn into flames, it would surely burn the entire Sullivan Group to ashes.

Soon after I woke up, the hallway outside my room was surrounded by reporters. I mustered up my courage, put on a “dying but still persevering” makeup, and opened the door. “Hello, Miss Quinn, what do you think about making the front page of the social news?” “Miss Quinn, are you putting on a show or making threats?” “Miss Quinn, do you have a secret relationship with Luke Young? Are you a homewrecker?” The more you say, the more mistakes you make. The less you say, the fewer mistakes you make. Say nothing, and you make no mistakes. I fell headfirst onto the nearest reporter’s DSLR camera – the one who had been shouting the loudest insults. She was startled and hurriedly protected her camera. But other reporters caught this on camera, and the next day, an unreliable tabloid reported: “Shocking! Eloise Quinn Faints in Public, Look What Happened to Her!” The cover photo was of the reporter pushing me away to protect her camera. An eye for an eye, I’ll get my revenge and be done with it.

After recovering, I returned to my apartment to recuperate, only to find a middle-aged couple standing at the door of the small room rented by my company. They were hunched over. The man was holding a mud-stained sack, and the woman was holding a familiar thermos. It was my parents. I threw myself into their arms and burst into tears. Since the incident, I hadn’t shed a single tear, but seeing them, my tears broke through the dam. “Child, how could you do such a thing!” My parents cried while scolding me. I felt a bit wronged and was about to explain that I wasn’t a homewrecker, that I hadn’t done anything wrong, when Mom gently tugged at my ear: “Why did you want to end your life? It’s better to live a hard life than to die.” “Your mom is right! If you can’t make it in the city, you can always come back home and inherit our small supermarket at the village entrance!” Dad put the sack down at the entrance and started taking things out. “You’re so foolish!” “Your mom is right! Honey, give the child that ginseng soup before you scold her.”

After eating, my parents said they wanted to take me back to our hometown. I said no, I wasn’t ready to give up. I wasn’t ready to leave with this identity, bearing this kind of infamy. “Don’t worry, I have a plan,” I said. Dad said we need to use magic to defeat magic. We need to use capital to defeat capital.

I was invited to the CEO’s office of Blue Corp, Sullivan Group’s arch-rival. Sitting across from me was an elegant lady in her thirties. She thoughtfully had her secretary bring some stomach-soothing tea. “I’m sorry, Miss Quinn. My mother has a weak stomach, so my office always keeps stomach-soothing tea on hand.” This person is decent, I quickly concluded. People who are good to their parents are usually not bad people. “Shall we cooperate?” Ms. Blue smiled at me, not looking like someone in her thirties at all, but more like a mischievous little fox. Smart people don’t need to talk in detail. I firmly shook her hand: “Let’s cooperate.” She would give me resources and help me speak out, while I would expose all the bad things Sullivan Group had done. This was a win-win situation.

I was sent to participate in a challenging reality show that was live-streamed across the internet. The show had five guests, covering five areas: music, stand-up comedy, acting, internet celebrity, and ordinary person. Luke Young as a singer and Wendy Sullivan as an ordinary person also participated. As soon as the guests appeared, the bullet comments exploded. [What kind of large-scale drama is this?] [Isn’t Eloise Quinn a homewrecker? How dare a tainted artist come?] [The one above is outdated. Eloise Quinn has clarified, it was on the front page of social news. She might really have been slandered.] [This sister is brave, isn’t she here to fight?] [Homewreckers must die, right?] [I’m here to see the sweet love between the male artist and the rich daughter, I’m satisfied.] Luke Young secretly glanced at me twice, then lowered his head. Wendy Sullivan glared at me fiercely, but restrained herself due to the cameras. She stepped forward, effectively separating me from Luke Young. The host arrived fashionably late, holding a handful of task cards. She waved them at us: “Come and draw your task cards, everyone.” She took the opportunity to advertise: “Hello, dear audience. Thanks to our generous sponsors, choose your favorite guest and vote for them!” “Today we’ve come to the zoo, where our guests will spend a delightful day with the adorable animals.” I looked at the task card in my hand and fell into deep thought. Task One: Feed the monkeys.

I ran to Monkey Hill with a basket of fruits and vegetables. A golden-haired monkey with a red face shouted at me from behind the fence. The strange thing was, I could understand what it was saying! Had I gone crazy, or had the world gone mad, or had the monkey gone insane? It said: “Another ugly, hairless human is here.” I stared at the cameraman in surprise, but he showed no strange reaction. Instead, I saw dense bullet comments flooding the screen. [Hahaha, they actually let a beauty feed the monkeys.] [Are these the monkeys from Mount Emei? They look fierce.] [Just quietly watching what tricks the homewrecker will pull.] [What are you pretending for, with that two-faced look? Is feeding monkeys beneath you?] Responses echoed from Monkey Hill. “We can tease humans again.” “This time I’m going to hit a human’s nose hard.” “I’m going to steal the human’s bag and give it to Sasha.” Me: ??? Trembling heart, Parkinson’s hands. I extended a banana, trembling and trying to be friendly. The largest monkey in the group roared: “Get lost, you idiot.” That set me off. I peeled the banana and shoved it into my mouth in three seconds, letting the monkey curse at me for two hours. “If you don’t eat it, I will!” I shouted at the monkey. The monkey group exploded. Although to others, they were just making meaningless howls; to me, they were cursing very dirty. As expected of those who slipped through the cracks of nine years of compulsory education, they had no manners at all. The largest monkey king was so excited that his saliva almost sprayed on my face, while the other monkeys even wanted to rush out and beat me. I gloated: “Come on, come and hit me if you can. You can’t reach me.” “What do you mean by ugly, hairless humans? Those with hair are ugly, you’re the ugly ones!” The more I spoke, the angrier I got. I put down the fruit basket, put my hands on my hips, and argued with a group of monkeys opposite me. “Don’t you have a mirror to look at yourself? What? You don’t know what a mirror is? It’s something invented by great and intelligent humans, your IQ probably isn’t enough to understand it, right?” “So monkeys all like to eat shit, no wonder your mouths are full of crap!” This isn’t right, my mouth has a mind of its own, my mouth is out of control! I wouldn’t normally do this kind of thing! After arguing for two hours, I battled the group of monkeys verbally, undefeated. Suddenly, the monkey king let out a mournful cry to the sky and respectfully bent his back. “You win. From today on, you are the new monkey king of our group.” Me: ???

I glanced at the bullet comments, which were full of “Hahaha”. The atmosphere had changed from “What is this woman thinking? Arguing with monkeys? Is she trying to create some strange persona?” to “Is Eloise Quinn here to be funny? Can someone really argue with monkeys?” Now, the bullet comments were developing in a strange direction. [This Eloise Quinn woman has got something.] [Look, the monkeys are bowing to her.] [Live version of ‘The Birth of the Monkey King’.] [I’m honored to witness the birth of the Monkey King, all hail the Monkey King!] [Hahaha this woman is killing me.] [For those who don’t understand and are asking, are those people calling Eloise Quinn a two-faced bitch using it as a compliment for her fighting ability?] [I may be a two-faced bitch but I can argue with monkeys for two hours and become the new Monkey King.]

“Your Majesty! Your Majesty, please bestow food upon us.” Voices rose from the monkey group. I hesitantly threw a few fruits in. The monkeys excitedly went to catch them. Half a day passed, and all the vegetables and fruits were fed. The atmosphere was peaceful and quiet. The zoo director came over and excitedly shook my hand: “Miss Quinn, would you be willing to work at our zoo?” “Good benefits, good treatment, five insurances and one fund, and a permanent position,” he added. Thanks for the invitation. Later I found out that this group of monkeys were wild monkeys from Mount Emei. They usually bullied the keepers and even dared to beat up tourists. They had a bad reputation, but were also second-class protected animals.

I’m dumbfounded. I originally wanted to participate in a live reality show to directly expose the scumbag with evidence on the show, but unexpectedly I went viral? And in such a strange way. I don’t know why I can suddenly understand monkey language. Is it because of the muscular old man who appeared in front of me on the day I jumped off the building?

The first episode has been recorded, and I took some time to catch up on the bullet comments. After feeding the monkeys, my second task was to bathe them. For me, who had already become the Monkey King, it was of course a piece of cake. Under my orderly command, each monkey washed itself clean. I led the cameraman into Monkey Hill and enjoyed the treatment of a king. When I sat at the highest point of Monkey Hill, looking down on everything, the bullet comments were saying: [Are you King Kong?] [King Kong, go fight Godzilla!] In just one day, I made three trending topics. Actually, it’s not that I’m amazing, it’s mainly due to the contrast with my peers. Wendy Sullivan and Luke Young’s performances were too controversial. Wendy Sullivan clung to Luke Young the whole time, acting coquettish and asking for hugs. However, this is reality, not an idol drama. Wendy Sullivan became the new representative of “cringeworthy behavior”. “Brother, I don’t want to feed the peacocks. I’m afraid of birds with sharp beaks,” Wendy Sullivan clung to Luke Young’s neck. The bullet comments were a mess. [So cringy.] [I came to watch their love story, not to watch them get it on.] [This is a zoo! Not a bedroom!] [Don’t say that, I’m a stray dog and I love to watch, bring it on!] [Everyone go to Eloise Quinn’s live stream! She’s become the Monkey King!] Whoosh, a large chunk of bullet comments disappeared. Probably all gone to my live stream.

“Miss Quinn, I really didn’t expect to see this side of you on the internet,” Ms. Blue said. I lowered my head embarrassedly. The development of events had exceeded my expectations. “I have a question, can you really understand what the monkeys are saying?” Ms. Blue asked. I instinctively shook my head. Being able to understand animal speech and all that, I was afraid of being taken away as a specimen. Ms. Blue shook her head disappointedly, but her eyes were fixed on me: “Ah, I thought I had met a kindred spirit, like someone who had awakened a beast bloodline or something.” My heart shook, and I blurted out: “You too?” Ms. Blue smiled: “Good vigilance. It’s not me, it’s my brother.” As soon as she finished speaking, there was a knock on the door, and a young man walked in. I looked up and was immediately captivated by a pair of eyes. What bewitching eyes they were, slightly upturned at the corners, with a hint of red. The pitch-black pupils were like whirlpools, with deep blue oil-like light dancing inside. I suddenly jolted: “What a fox spirit!” Then I came to my senses. Standing in front of me was a young man. To describe this man as handsome would be an insult. “How did you know?” He was startled and took a small step back. What did I know? I thought back, fox spirit? “Hello, my name is Silas Lewis. I’ve awakened the bloodline of the nine-tailed fox beast,” the young man glanced at me. How to describe this glance? One glance for a thousand years. With this glance, I had the illusion that I had known him for tens of thousands of years. I’ve already decided where we’ll be buried together in this life.

Ms. Blue left the office to me and Silas, and very thoughtfully closed the door. “What beast bloodline did you awaken?” Silas asked. I answered honestly, it was a wild boar. He gave me a comforting smile. “That’s good,” he said. Don’t think I didn’t see that! You were secretly laughing just now, weren’t you! “I awakened when I was ten, so I’ve done some research on awakening,” Silas explained. “Actually, many humans carry gene fragments of these beasts in their genes, but most people’s special genes won’t be expressed.” “The expression of these genes is what we call ‘awakening’. Those who awaken will possess a special ability, which I call ‘skills’ and ‘passives’.” I thought for a moment: “It sounds like a game.” “Exactly, but unfortunately the sample size is too small. In all these years, besides myself, you’re the only awakened person I’ve met.” His eyes looked at me intensely, like a fox staring at its prey. I fled in panic.

To figure out what my “skill” and “passive” were, I went to a pet store. Strangely, I couldn’t understand the meows and barks of cats and dogs. But when I passed a dog cage, a dog barked at me loudly: “What are you looking at! Human! Watch out or I’ll scratch you.” Suddenly, I had a bold guess: it seems that I can only understand other creatures when they’re cursing at me. Just as I was lost in thought, my mouth went out of control: “Just looking at you, come out and scratch me if you dare!” I hurriedly covered my mouth and stepped back. Well, I think I know my “passive” now: I can never lose an argument. Why does Silas’s skill allow him to charm any creature, with a passive of uncontrollably charming any creature, while mine is arguing with others?

During the second episode, the location was set at Sullivan Group. Before the broadcast started, Wendy Sullivan blocked my way and gave me a malicious smile: “Eloise Quinn, what do you have to fight against me!” How dare she speak to the Monkey King like this! In my eyes, Wendy Sullivan was just a spoiled and stupid elementary school student. Arguing with her was both meaningless and a waste of time. But my mouth wouldn’t back down: “I’ll fight you with my life. If you push me too far, I’ll drag you down with me.” I approached Wendy Sullivan and pulled a creepy smile. “You… you psycho.” Wendy Sullivan stepped back in fear. “I’m going to tell my daddy!” See, I told you she’s an elementary school student. Go ahead and tell. Someday, your dad won’t be able to protect you anymore. You’ll have to pay a painful price for your mistakes eventually.

The theme of the second episode was office workers, and the guests had to complete various tasks assigned by the boss. I was assigned to the sales department. While others were sitting in the office, I couldn’t help but look up at the cameraman and give an apologetic smile: “I’m sorry, you’ll have to run around with me again today.” The cameraman gave me an “OK” hand sign, then shook his camera. A flood of bullet comments poured in. [Up close, Eloise Quinn’s face really can withstand high-definition cameras!] [Is it just me, or does sister Eloise seem so sad and wronged?] [She must have been targeted by a certain rich girl. Everyone else gets to sit in the office, while she has to run around.] [I don’t know if anyone noticed, but Eloise is wearing the high heels provided by the show. She has to run around all day, just thinking about it is scary.] There were those who sympathized with me, and of course, those who disliked me. [Not everyone is born a princess like Wendy.] [Being poor is a sin, who told you to offend the capitalists?] [A homewrecker, coming to the territory of the rightful girlfriend, still prancing around?] [Eloise Quinn is really playing the moral high ground card. Does she think jumping off a building can cover up the fact that she’s a homewrecker?] The harsher they curse now, the more I’ll make them regret it in the future.

After getting ready, I arrived at the sales office and changed into the sales uniform. Soon, a customer came – a muscular, tattooed guy. The other salespeople quickly pushed the customer towards me. I enthusiastically went to greet him. After looking at the house plans, I was about to take the keys to show the guy around. Unexpectedly, a thin, small girl walked over and pinched the tattooed guy hard: “You said you came to look at houses, but you’re here to look at pretty girls, aren’t you!” Then she stared at me with hostility. “You must be Mrs. Gold? Hello.” I confidently went up to her. “Mr. Gold just looked at many house plans, I have them all here. Would you like to take a look now?” You can’t judge people by their appearance. Although the man looked fierce and the woman was petite, based on my experience, the one in charge at home must be the woman. “Mrs. Gold, look, these two houses are quite nice. They face the sun on three sides and have large balconies…” The tattooed guy was left alone on the side. The other salesgirls nearby had a look of watching a good show, seemingly waiting for the tattooed guy to explode. Unexpectedly, the tattooed guy looked at his wife adoringly, without saying a word. After a while, as if bored, he gruffly said to the other salesgirls in the distance: “Bring two glasses of water.” Soon, two glasses of warm water were brought over tremblingly. “Mrs. Gold, your husband is really gentle and considerate,” I whispered to the girl. She immediately blushed: “You’re the first one to say that. Everyone around us was against us being together. We’ve been married for eight years now, and he’s always been very good to me.” Their eyes met, and the tattooed guy pursed his lips, looking even fiercer, enough to make a child cry: “You’re my woman, of course I’m good to you.” If it weren’t for his ears turning red, I might have been scared too. “Let’s go take a look at the house,” I took Mrs. Gold’s hand. On the way, Mrs. Gold asked me happily: “Are you filming a show? Why is someone always filming you? Are you a celebrity?” I nodded. “You’re so pretty, and so nice. You must be very famous. I can’t believe I just got out of the hospital and met a big star.” I patted her hand and mouthed to her, avoiding the camera: “I will be in the future.” Five minutes later, we sat in a tour car to the new house. It was a large flat, 240 square meters, luxuriously decorated. I took the couple around, and the cameraman also did close-ups of the house. Mrs. Gold said with a smile: “It looks suitable, I’ll buy it. The commission should go to you, right?” The tattooed guy frowned but didn’t say anything. I said: “Don’t buy it. This is my first time seeing this house too, and it’s not good.” Hearing this, Mrs. Gold looked at me puzzled, and the tattooed guy was also a bit surprised. “This house was terrible,” I said.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “295241”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster #现实主义Realistic #浪漫Romance #魔幻Magic #励志Inspiring #重生Reborn #校园School #惊悚Thriller #后宫Harem