Author: Momo Chan

Caleb and I were the epitome of a loveless marriage. Outside of our obligatory duties, we barely interacted. He despised my strong-willed nature, while I resented his controlling tendencies. So when my body was taken over by an intruder, I held no hope that he would notice. After all, a docile, obedient wife was exactly what he wanted, right? But later, his expression darkened as he gripped “my” throat, his voice trembling: “Who are you really?” “Give me back the real Amelia!” In a desperate attempt to secure a client, I ended up in a car accident on the highway. With a deafening crash, my world spun violently. In those final moments of consciousness, a strange thought flashed through my mind: Well, there goes that client. And I didn’t even get to sleep with Caleb this month. How frustrating. When I next awoke, I found myself as a disembodied spirit, floating above my own body lying in a hospital bed. Caleb sat beside me, his handsome features etched with exhaustion and worry. I was taken aback. Wasn’t he supposed to be in London for a business deal? Suddenly, I heard an unfamiliar voice. It was coming from my own body. [So this is my new body? Not bad at all.] [The original Amelia was such an idiot, trying to compete with her husband for clients. But once I complete my mission, all this luxury will be mine!] [Men are such visual creatures. This task the system gave me will be a piece of cake.] The voice rambled on, though my body remained motionless on the bed. Was this… the voice of the new soul inhabiting my body? I listened intently, quickly analyzing my predicament. It seemed the car accident had somehow caused my soul to separate from my physical form. When I tried to approach my body, an invisible force repelled me. Clearly, I had temporarily lost control over my own body. And now, this so-called “Intruder” had taken over. Just then, the Intruder stirred. Her eyelashes fluttered as she began to wake. Caleb noticed the movement and quickly called for a doctor. The Intruder opened her eyes, a flash of admiration crossing her face as she saw Caleb. But it was quickly hidden. Her internal voice screeched excitedly: [Oh my god, is this the husband? He’s so handsome!] [Rich, powerful, and gorgeous – how could the original Amelia not like him?] [Well, he’s all mine now. Hehe.] I couldn’t deny it. Caleb did possess devastatingly good looks – the very picture of a refined yet dangerous man. Though the Intruder was screaming internally, she remembered she still had to mimic my personality. So she merely turned her head slightly and said coolly: “Why are you here?” Her smug inner voice continued: [Hah, good thing the system gave me info on the original Amelia. She’s supposed to act all cold towards her husband.] [Hmm, this whole “loveless marriage” setup is kind of hot. I bet I can complete the mission to sleep with him in one month instead of three!] Caleb didn’t seem to suspect anything amiss. He lowered his eyes and replied sarcastically: “I was worried you’d die and I’d have to explain that to the family.” “Just focus on recovering. I have work to handle at the company.” He stood up and strode out, leaving only a glimpse of his dark coat trailing behind him. I felt a pang of disappointment, though I wasn’t surprised. After all, Caleb and I were sworn enemies, weren’t we?

From the Intruder’s constant internal chatter, I pieced together her mission. She had to seduce Caleb and sleep with him within three months. I found the whole thing utterly ridiculous. What kind of system assigned such an absurd task? Was she plugged into some kind of erotic novel simulator? But I had to admit, it did cut straight to the heart of the matter. Caleb and I clashed in every other aspect of our lives. But oddly enough, we were surprisingly compatible in the bedroom. I had a domineering personality, but in those intimate moments, I couldn’t help but surrender control. By the end, I could only passively accept his passionate advances, cursing him breathlessly. “You bastard…” He would lean in close, chuckling softly in my ear. But his movements would grow gentler, bringing me even greater pleasure. Though our relationship was far from a normal marriage, the thought of this Intruder using my body to sleep with Caleb made me sick to my stomach. The Intruder’s thoughts continued to race: [I can’t believe he just left like that. When I succeed in seducing him, he’ll be the one chasing after me!] [Hmph, it’s all the original Amelia’s fault for being so cold. But once I complete my mission, I can stay in this world permanently and enjoy the life of a wealthy socialite.] My heart plummeted. Though the Intruder didn’t specify what would happen to me, it wasn’t hard to guess. Once she succeeded, I would lose any chance of reclaiming my body. And how long could a disembodied spirit linger in this world? When that time came, I would truly cease to exist, leaving no trace behind.

The Intruder was already making her move. She got out of bed, still in her hospital gown, and went to examine herself in the bathroom mirror. Satisfied with her appearance, she walked to the door, intending to leave. But Caleb’s assistant stopped her, his tone strictly professional: “Ma’am, you’ve just woken up. If you need anything, please let me know. You should rest in bed.” The Intruder frowned and argued, “I’m fine now. Get me discharged, I need to go back to the office.” The assistant didn’t budge, as if he had expected this response. “I’m sorry ma’am, but Mr. Thorne specifically said your health takes priority.” After a long standoff at the door, the Intruder finally relented. “Fine, if you won’t let me work, at least let me recover at home. The doctor said I’m okay, and I can’t stand hospitals. Tell Caleb I want to go home.” The assistant hesitated for a few seconds before getting Caleb’s approval. Only then did he step aside. “Of course, ma’am. I’ll arrange your discharge right away.” She had been staying in a VIP suite, and all her belongings were already packed up. A Maybach was waiting downstairs. The Intruder maintained a calm exterior, but inside she was ecstatic. [A Maybach? Just to pick me up from the hospital? All these people catering to my every need…] [Soon this will all be mine. The system wasn’t lying after all.] [The sooner I get home, the sooner I can share a bed with him. More opportunities that way. Caleb’s got a great body too, I definitely won’t mind sleeping with him. Hehe.] I jerked my head up in alarm. The Caleb I knew wouldn’t be so desperate as to take advantage of an injured woman. But I still felt nervous. Caleb was my last hope now. Tonight, would he notice something was off about her?

The housekeeper had dinner ready when we got home. Throughout the meal, they ate in silence, with the Intruder occasionally sneaking glances at Caleb. Caleb finished first, pouring himself a glass of milk before heading upstairs to his study. The Intruder instinctively reached for the milk jug as well. Caleb paused mid-step. The Intruder’s heart skipped a beat. [Shit, I forgot Amelia is allergic to milk.] [Seriously? Little miss princess can’t even drink milk? Now she’s gotten me in trouble!] While internally cursing me, she scrambled to think of an excuse. I did indeed have an aversion to milk. But it wasn’t a physical allergy – it was psychological. I grew up in a wealthy but controlling family. From a young age, every aspect of my life was strictly regulated. I wasn’t allowed any junk food. After puberty, I had to report every meal to maintain my figure. The food was nutritionally balanced, but utterly bland. This extended to the nightly glass of milk before bed. Under my mother’s watchful eye, I would dutifully drink it. But the moment she closed the door, I’d rush to the bathroom to throw it all up. The taste of milk made me feel suffocated. After marrying Caleb, I actually gained some weight. No one monitored my eating habits anymore. No one forced me to drink milk. I never touched dairy products, and Caleb knew this well. He stood frozen, looking back towards the dining table. The Intruder didn’t stop pouring the milk. She set the full glass at the other end of the table. “Housekeeper, there’s some milk left here. Please finish it when you’re done cleaning up,” she instructed casually. With a yawn, she walked past Caleb and headed upstairs. [Phew, that was close. I thought I was going to blow my cover.] [Good thing I thought fast. The Thornes treat their staff well, so what I did shouldn’t seem too odd.] Indeed, Caleb didn’t question it. His hand lingered on the stair railing for a long moment. Once the Intruder entered the bedroom, he slowly continued up the stairs.

With his back to me, I couldn’t see Caleb’s expression. But I knew the Intruder had passed this test. Caleb went to his study as usual. He was always busy, and flying back from London on short notice meant work had piled up. By the time he finished, it was late into the night. When he returned to the bedroom, the Intruder was already asleep. In the darkness, his brows furrowed slightly as he gently touched the bandage on her forehead. The car accident hadn’t caused serious injuries, just some bruising and scrapes. His hand moved lower. He softly brushed aside the hair near her ear, revealing a small red birthmark. Caleb’s frown deepened. He scrutinized every inch of her, searching for any anomalies. But the woman beside him continued to sleep peacefully. He finally let out a sigh of relief. After tucking her in, he closed his eyes as well. As Caleb’s breathing evened out, the Intruder suddenly opened her eyes. A triumphant smile played on her lips, her gaze filled with determination. I felt a mix of disappointment and resignation. Of course he wouldn’t notice anything wrong just by looking. After all, it was still my body. [He was definitely suspicious, but luckily this is Amelia’s real body so there’s nothing off about it.] [Though he was surprisingly gentle just now. I guess the original Amelia was just too unfeminine for his tastes.] [Completing this mission will be a piece of cake!]

Caleb was a staunch materialist who scoffed at any talk of souls or spirits. Tonight’s suspicions were likely just to rule out an impersonator. Once he eliminated that possibility, he probably wouldn’t care anymore. In fact, the more obedient and docile the Intruder acted, the more at ease he might feel. After all, in Caleb’s mind, a submissive wife was preferable. Whether it was really me or not didn’t matter to him. My marriage to Caleb had been an accident to begin with. Our families were old friends, and Caleb and I had been classmates since childhood. We never got along. In school we competed for grades, and at work we fought over projects. Neither of us would back down. Yet despite our constant clashes, our parents were pleased with the match. They had known us since we were young and were satisfied with our characters and backgrounds. Most importantly, our families were of equal status. There was no dramatic love story or convoluted history between us. Caleb and I were simply bound together for life. After marrying Caleb, I was finally free from my family’s control. Caleb gave me shares in the company – I was the second largest shareholder after him. I threw myself even deeper into work. Sometimes Caleb would forcibly close my laptop, saying, “Amelia, go rest. You can’t keep pulling all-nighters.” But I always insisted on finishing my tasks. People often wondered why I worked so hard when I was already the CEO’s wife. The answer was simple – for myself. I knew there was no love in my marriage to Caleb. It was more of a business transaction. He had shown his sincerity by giving me company shares. Of course I had to seize the opportunity and climb higher. In this world, no one can be your eternal support. Even if I left everything else behind, I wanted to ensure I could still live well on my own. That was my goal. But now, it seemed all my efforts would benefit someone else. The Intruder had taken over my body, easily stealing everything I had worked for. This was something I could never prevent, no matter how hard I tried. A deep sense of helplessness washed over me. Rustling sounds from the room interrupted my reminiscing. Perhaps spirits don’t need sleep, because time had passed quickly. The sky outside was already growing light. Caleb always went for a morning run. When he got up, the Intruder was still sound asleep. He carefully tucked the blanket around her and gazed at her sleeping face for a long moment. To my shock, he leaned down and placed a soft kiss on her cheek. His eyes held a rare tenderness. I instinctively touched my own face. Had he ever looked at me that way before? We rarely kissed, even during sex. I always felt that such intimacy required mutual affection. At best, we were business partners. On countless mornings, I would wake up to an empty bed. I never imagined he did things like this when I was asleep. For the first time, I began to doubt my understanding of his feelings. A tiny spark of hope flickered in my heart. What if… what if Caleb could figure it out? What if he realized my soul had been replaced? But the events of the next few days all but extinguished that hope.

Caleb went about his usual routine, only seeing the Intruder at night when he came home to sleep. Meanwhile, the Intruder was getting quite comfortable in my identity. Everyone close to us knew about the car accident, so no one bothered her with work matters for now. She was thoroughly enjoying the life of a wealthy CEO’s wife. Luxury goods flowed into the house like water. She spent her days at high-end spas and salons. I used to own designer items too, but I wasn’t very interested in them. Caleb would stubbornly have new collections sent to the house. I’d pick out one or two pieces just to save face for him. The Intruder was wary of Caleb noticing, so she only used my credit cards. She stood in the walk-in closet, admiring the shelves of handbags with undisguised satisfaction. [It feels amazing to be rich. I could never afford these bags before, but now they’re all mine.] [Caleb will be home soon. I need to get ready and try to seduce him tonight.] [Once I complete the mission, I want to vacation abroad. I heard the Thornes have a private jet – I’ve never flown on one before!] The Intruder was still daydreaming about her future lifestyle when a phone call interrupted her thoughts. She had scheduled an at-home manicure, and the nail tech was in the middle of applying nail extensions when the phone rang. Annoyed at having her fantasies disrupted, she yanked her hand away from the manicurist and frowned at the half-finished nails. “What kind of shoddy work is this? Your technique is terrible!” The nail tech apologized profusely. “I’m so sorry, Mrs. Thorne. Let me redo them for you right away. May I have your hand back please?” The call was from my assistant, Lisa. The Intruder ignored it until it rang a second time. With an exasperated sigh, she answered on speakerphone. “Hello?” “Mrs. Thorne, I’m sorry to disturb your rest, but there’s been an issue with the Horizon project we were working on with Sterling Corp. Their representatives are already at the office. Do you think you could…” Lisa’s voice was filled with anxiety. Clearly the situation was urgent. I hovered nearby, growing increasingly agitated. The Horizon collaboration was a deal I had personally secured after countless negotiations. It was immensely important to me, to Caleb, and to the entire company. But the Intruder didn’t understand. She knew nothing about running a company or maintaining partnerships. She had no idea how to handle this crisis.

She panicked for a moment before lowering her voice to feign weakness. “Lisa, you know I just got out of the hospital. My head is still killing me. Why don’t you handle it for now? I’ll look over any documents you send me.” I had always been a workaholic, pushing myself even when ill. Others constantly had to persuade me to rest. I was competitive by nature and hated admitting defeat. This was the first time I had ever mentioned my own discomfort. Lisa became even more flustered, guilt creeping into her voice. “Of course, Mrs. Thorne. I’m so sorry, this came out of nowhere. Please don’t push yourself if you’re not feeling well. I’ll try to smooth things over with Sterling Corp.” “You should rest. Take care of yourself.” After hanging up, the Intruder let out a long sigh of relief. But she made no move to check her emails or messages. Hours later, when her manicure was finally complete, she admired the sparkling gems on her nails before reluctantly opening her laptop. As soon as she clicked on the files Lisa had sent, her eyes glazed over at the dense text and endless spreadsheets. It was all technical jargon and financial data. [What the hell is all this? Just looking at it is giving me a headache.] [How am I supposed to understand this stuff? This is so annoying. Amelia’s gone but I still have to deal with her mess.] [Why be a career woman when you could just be a trophy wife? Ugh.] The Intruder scrolled aimlessly, her frown deepening by the second. These documents would take even an expert like Caleb all night to review. And this was a project I had been overseeing, so he would need time to familiarize himself with the details. The Intruder stubbornly kept scrolling, desperately hoping to make sense of it. But she finally gave up. Her long, bejeweled nails tapped impatiently on the laptop. She glanced at the time – it was already 9 PM and Caleb still wasn’t home. I floated beside her, completely focused on the financial reports on the screen. I quickly identified where the problems lay. I yearned to take back control of my body, organize all the documents, and schedule a meeting with Sterling Corp. This was the business I had poured my heart and soul into. The Intruder would never treasure it the way I did. But every time I tried to approach her, an invisible force pushed me back. After several failed attempts, I could only watch helplessly as time ticked by. She opened her phone and started scrolling through celebrity gossip instead. By midnight, she was nodding off and went straight to bed. I remained by her side, unable to sleep. Caleb never came home that night. The next morning, the Intruder stumbled downstairs yawning, and ran into Caleb who had just returned. His suit was wrinkled and he looked exhausted, but still devastatingly handsome. “I handled the Sterling Corp situation. Lisa said your head still hurts? I’ll have the doctor do another full checkup. I need to be able to reassure your parents.” His gaze traveled downwards, noticing the Intruder’s freshly manicured nails. Slender and rounded, with diamonds glittering under the lights. “You got your nails done?” The Intruder froze.

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I accidentally killed my classmate who tried to rape me. In the interrogation room, I covered my face and wept. Later, after the court’s decision, I was released without charges. I left under police escort. In a corner where no one noticed, I wiped away the tears from the corners of my eyes, and a satisfied smile spread across my lips. “My name is Aria West, and I’m a student in Class 6 at Lincoln University,” I said. “The deceased… was my classmate.” I sat on the hospital bed, an IV drip in my arm, looking sickly as I accepted the water handed to me by the policewoman in uniform. I gave her a kind smile. The police officer sitting next to me nodded reassuringly. “There’s no need to be nervous. Now, please try to recall all the details of what happened that day as best you can.”

My only redeeming quality was my appearance. Whether it’s older men or teenage boys in the throes of puberty, they’re all visual creatures at their core. Gaining the favor of a teenage boy is actually quite easy. Just one look, an accidental touch, coupled with a pitiful face, and you can easily have them wrapped around your finger. This came naturally to me; I was born with the ability to make people adore me. But I never imagined that these things I prided myself on would bring me such fatal harm. That day, I found a torn piece of paper in my desk drawer. ‘After class, can I invite you to the equipment room by the gym? I have something I want to tell you.’ Seeing the signature, I scoffed dismissively and tore up the note, tossing it in the trash. I’d seen this confession trick eight times already. And now, here comes the ninth. The note was signed by Jack Young, known in our class as a sister complex case. Good grades, and kept everyone at arm’s length except for his sister. I just never thought that such a model student would have a heart for puppy love. But no matter how outstanding a student is, he’s still just a seventeen or eighteen-year-old boy at the end of the day. I smiled playfully, curious about what he might say. “So, he invited you to the equipment room?” the police officer taking notes paused and looked up at me. I returned a gentle smile. “Yes, officer.” “Alright, please continue.”

After class, I went to the equipment room at the appointed time. It was Friday, and it was already getting dark when university let out. Most people had left campus. I pushed open the door of the equipment room with a creak, and there was no one inside. I wasn’t in a hurry; after all, I knew that for a shy boy, confessing was still quite embarrassing. I wandered around the equipment room and noticed the discarded vases on the shelves were all askew. While waiting for him, I had nothing better to do, so I neatly arranged the messy vases. Suddenly, the main door creaked open and then slammed shut with a bang. I thought the wind had blown the door closed and turned to open it again. In the darkness, a pair of hands embraced me from behind. I stiffened, feeling his hot breath on my neck. He was panting heavily, repeating my name while his hands eagerly slipped under my shirt, fondling my bra. Feeling violated, I cursed at him and struggled, both angry and embarrassed. But he held me tighter, his lips lightly kissing my neck as he whispered words of love in my ear. I felt my scalp tingle and began to regret coming here. I should have refused him. I shouldn’t have believed a teenage boy would have any self-control. He disgusted me. I rejected him firmly, but my rejection seemed to act as an aphrodisiac in his eyes. He became excited. I felt something hard pressing against me, constantly rubbing. I was scared and angry. You know, when people are angry, they can unleash incredible potential. Anger filled me, and I don’t know where I got the strength, but I suddenly turned around and shoved him hard. The vases on the shelf fell down, hitting him squarely on the head. The vase shattered, and a shard cut my shoulder. He let go, his hands slipping from my waist as his whole body fell to the floor. When I finally managed to open the door, ignoring the sharp pain in my shoulder, I discovered in the light from outside that he was dead. “That’s everything that happened,” I concluded, my fingers lightly brushing over the wound on my shoulder where the vase had hit me. I blinked, letting two tears fall. “If I had known he was that kind of person, I would never have agreed to his request that day.” The atmosphere in the hospital room was very tense. Several police officers stood beside me, exchanging silent glances as if communicating some kind of signal. The lead officer stood up and gave me a slight bow. “We’re sorry to disturb your rest. That concludes our questioning for today.” I returned a smile. “Take care, officers.” I watched as they left my hospital room one by one until it was quiet with just me alone. My eyes darkened, and the smile faded from my face.

I don’t know when I fell asleep, but when I woke up, the nurse was already standing beside me, changing my IV drip. “This is your last IV for today. Once it’s finished, you can leave the hospital,” she said. The nurse smiled brightly and ruffled my messy hair. “You’re a very brave girl. Take care of yourself from now on.” I deliberately lowered my gaze and blinked softly. “Thank you, nurse. You take care too.” I was born knowing how to make people pity me, no matter who they were. Sure enough, the nurse squeezed my cheek sympathetically and stuffed all the candy from her pockets into my arms. After she left, a mischievous smile spread across my face. I’m an orphan, born without parents. I had some a few years ago, but now they’re gone too. There’s only me left in the family, so I don’t expect anyone to come help me check out of the hospital. I followed the nurse through the discharge process alone. Fortunately, the nurses were all very perceptive and helped me with most of the work. As I was leaving, one even said tearfully that I must live well from now on. I put on my best performance, hugging this nurse and crying with her. The moment I turned away, I wiped away my tears. It was all just going through the motions.

Although the university suggested I rest for a couple of days, I went back the very same day. I have good relationships with people, surrounded by a bunch of fair-weather friends. When they saw me return, they all crowded around, bombarding me with a flurry of questions. Although annoyed, I still put on my standard social smile, dealing with their false concern and gossip-hungry curiosity. “Did you really kill that guy?” “Huh? You actually killed him? How could you bear to do it?” I lowered my eyes and pursed my lips. A girl next to me clicked her tongue disapprovingly. “Watch what you’re saying.” Seeing this, the boy who had just spoken quickly shut his mouth and immediately put on a fawning smile. “I misspoke. Aria, please don’t be angry.” I pretended to be strong and shook my head. “It’s fine.” They immediately started comforting me again, all talking at once. “That guy deserved to die. I never liked him anyway. How dare he do something like that to you…” The girl next to me clicked her tongue again, and the boy fell completely silent. In contrast to the bustle around us, Nina’s corner was quiet. Through gaps in the crowd, I saw her in the corner, staring wistfully at the commotion around us, her fingers trembling slightly as she gripped her pencil. When our eyes met, she first froze, then hurriedly lowered her head, clumsily gripping her pen to write in her notebook. Nina Young, the typical loner girl. Never interacting with anyone, without a single friend, always stuck to her brother like glue, doing everything together. I found her pathetic and pitiful because I had already foreseen how things would develop from here.

Our class was notoriously bad. Everyone seemed to have been eaten away by some kind of darkness, rotten to the core, beyond saving. Here, students had their own system for ranking each other. In our class, there were three factions. One faction was represented by the now-deceased Jack Young – the good students. Troublemakers would deliberately avoid this group of good students to prevent the university from getting involved. Another faction was represented by me – the clique-forming troublemakers. The remaining faction, those with average grades and poor social skills, would become fodder for the bullies. Sure enough, not two days had passed before their sights turned to Nina Young. Previously, out of respect for Jack Young, they had some reservations about Nina as well. But now that Jack was dead, Nina was like a lamb that had lost its way, inevitably becoming a toy for that group. They would take advantage of the time Nina went to the bathroom during class breaks to steal her chair, forcing her to stand when she returned, unable to find a seat. Or they would deliberately place empty drink bottles on her desk and throw used tissues into her drawer, then snicker as they watched her. “Oh my, is this your seat? I thought it was a trash can.” The people around would burst into exaggerated laughter as if they had heard some hilarious joke. The teacher was certainly aware of what was happening. She had eyes; of course she could see Nina standing there, could see the pile of trash on her desk. But she only glanced over and said nothing. I’ve said it before – everyone in our class is rotten to the core, not just the students. I knew that their reason for being so brazen wasn’t just because Nina had lost her brother. Nina’s family situation was similar to mine; in the end, she was left with only a brother to keep her company. Now that her brother was gone too, the only person who could protect her in public was gone. With no one to back her up, they became fearless. I rested my chin on my hand, watching with interest as Nina stood awkwardly in class. Unfortunately, she was nothing like me. She didn’t know how to pretend at all.

I’ve said before that I was born with the ability to make people love me. Anyone. I would disguise myself as pitiful and vulnerable, making others feel sympathy for me. At the same time, I would use expensive luxury items to create an image of coming from a wealthy family. Who would dare to mess with a naive girl from a rich family? But Nina couldn’t do this. Her dislike, her fear, her terror were all written plainly on her face. The slightest disturbance would startle her, only exciting the bullies more. Just like now. A paper ball hit Nina squarely on the head, then bounced to the floor. I heard quiet snickers around me, while Nina just lowered her head, her ears turning red, too weak to say anything. Then came a second paper ball, and a third. It wasn’t until the teacher finally couldn’t stand it anymore that she stopped it, but not for Nina’s sake – only for the sake of classroom discipline. Nina’s eyes were red, on the verge of tears. Tsk, poor child. University let out soon after. A group surrounded me as we left, clamoring about protecting me while bombarding me with endless questions. I found it annoying, but just as we stepped out of the university gates, a man blocked my path. I looked up at the familiar face and nodded slightly. “Hello, officer.” He seemed somewhat taken aback by my calmness, then nodded lightly in return. “We have a few more questions to ask. Would you mind coming with us now?” I glanced at my companions – those who had just been boasting about protecting me were now cowering timidly. I then looked at the policewoman behind the officer; she was watching me too. Finally, I nodded gently. “Let’s go.” I followed them to the police station and was seated in a chair. I accepted the water handed to me by a young police officer, felt its temperature through the cup, then handed it back. “I prefer it warm, thank you.”

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After Three Years of Caring for the Simple-Minded Prince, He Recovered The first thing he did was get engaged to his childhood sweetheart. I went to find him with a box of cash to cut off our relationship. He smiled and stuffed a wad of money into my hand, raising an eyebrow: “Seduction requires capital too.” 0I stared at the diagnosis in my hand, stunned for a long time. In the past, I wanted to die so badly, but attempts at cutting my wrists, jumping off buildings, and hanging myself all left me with a breath of life. Now that I finally had hope for living, heaven played such a cruel joke on me. After leaving the hospital, I kept thinking. If I died, what would happen to Summer? Summer was the simple-minded man I had taken in three years ago. If I died, what would happen to him? With a heavy heart, I returned home. The door was wide open, and my heart skipped a beat. A man in a suit stood in the room, smiling as he said: “Miss Evans, let’s have a chat.” “Summer.” Before I could finish, he opened the box on the table. Lots of money. “What do you mean?” I asked. “Thank you for taking care of our young master for so long, Miss Evans. This is a token of our gratitude,” he replied. “Also, I hope you won’t spread the word about our young master’s condition.” Though he was smiling, I could sense a clear killing intent. I swallowed hard: “I don’t want the money.” “You don’t want it?” He sneered, looking me up and down. “Is it not enough?” “Or are you aiming to marry into the Pierce family?” I was stunned for a moment. Just as I was about to speak, he handed me a business card. “If the money’s not enough, you can call the number on the front,” he said, glancing at me. “As for anything else, please keep it to yourself.” I crumpled the diagnosis in my hand, the hope for treatment dying in my heart. My only hope had been shattered. 0

Out of curiosity, I searched for the Pierce family online. The first thing I saw was Summer’s face. Everett Pierce, the crown prince of Beijing’s elite circles, heir to the Pierce family. He and I had always been worlds apart. The money in that box was more than I could earn in a lifetime. After some thought, I called the number on the business card. “Miss Evans, you’ve made up your mind so quickly?” the voice answered. I made a sound of agreement. “I don’t want this money.” “Not enough? That’s understandable. A single injection for cancer treatment costs $120,000.” “How much do you want?” My hand holding the phone trembled. “I’m not planning to get treatment.” There was silence on the other end for a moment before he spoke again: “Miss Evans, it’s not that easy to enter the Pierce family.” “Although you’ve taken care of our young master for three years, that’s not enough to qualify you to enter the Pierce family. Moreover…” “Our young master already has a fiancée.” My heart felt like it was being squeezed by a rope, making it hard to breathe. My voice shook as I replied: “I have no intention of becoming Mrs. Pierce.” “Nor will I tell anyone about Summer… about Everett Pierce’s condition.” “I just” “Simply don’t want to take your money.” It felt like if I took the money, my relationship with Summer would somehow be tainted. He paused for a moment. “Miss Evans, this is what you deserve. I’m just following orders, and you’re making this very difficult for me.” I wanted to say more, but the call had already been disconnected. The dim light illuminated the living room, with a bag of bottles Summer had collected still by the door. I hadn’t seen Summer when I came home from work yesterday either. After searching many places without finding him, I sat on the sofa and cried hard. Just then, Summer returned, covered in mud and carrying a sack. Seeing me cry, he panicked immediately. With a black eye, he smiled at me: “Sister, don’t cry. Look, I collected so many bottles.” “I even outran several old men to get them.” “Sister, I can support you. Please don’t be with that man, okay?” I hugged him, feeling both angry and amused. “If you run off like that again, I’ll abandon you,” I threatened. He looked at me with reddened eyes, tugging at my sleeve, saying he could collect lots and lots of bottles. Begging me not to leave him. Now, he had left. And it was he who had abandoned me. 0

Without a reason to live, there was naturally no need for treatment. I prepared to cancel my hospital admission. As I was leaving, I accidentally knocked over the clay figurine on the shelf. I glanced at it and closed the door. At the hospital, I successfully cancelled my admission, but saw Summer’s name on the inpatient list. I grabbed the nurse’s hand and asked: “Everett Pierce, is he the young master of the Pierce family?” She shook off my hand and sneered: “So what if he is?” She looked me up and down. “You think you can catch the eye of the crown prince of high society with your looks?” I didn’t dare meet her gaze and scurried away. After returning home, I took the box of money and went back to the hospital. I didn’t dare ask the nurses which room Summer was in, fearing their strange looks. I could only go floor by floor, peeking through the door cracks at the people inside. “Hey? Kaia?” I turned around, instinctively hugging the box to my chest. “Dr. Johnson.” He smiled and asked: “Here to pay the medical bills?” I shook my head. He looked surprised: “With treatment, there’s a very high chance your condition can improve.” There might be a chance of recovery, but no hope of living. “Why not get treatment if you have the money?” he asked again. I smiled bitterly: “Dr. Johnson, this money isn’t mine.” “Then whose-” I interrupted him: “Dr. Johnson, do you know which room Everett Pierce is in?” Dr. Johnson was silent for a moment before saying: “Fourth floor, second room on the left.” He patted my shoulder. “If you need any help, you can come find me.” I nodded and made my way to the fourth floor. Standing outside the room, I hesitated for a long time before knocking. The door was opened by a distinguished-looking man whom I recognized from the internet. Summer’s brother, Eric Pierce – the current head of the Pierce family. He didn’t seem surprised to see me and nodded: “Please come in.” I immediately spotted Summer lying on the hospital bed, with an elegantly dressed woman beside him. The woman was feeding Summer pieces of apple, and Summer looked at her with eyes full of tenderness. I lowered my gaze, my fingers turning white from gripping the box so tightly. Then, I slowly let go. Never mind. 0

Summer only noticed me after eating several pieces of apple. He wiped his mouth and asked: “What are you doing here?” He looked at me, his eyes cold. I instinctively took two steps back. This Summer felt so unfamiliar. Of course, he had regained his memories and was no longer the simple-minded boy who would chase after me calling “Sister”. He was now Everett Pierce – the heir to the Pierce family. I took a deep breath and opened the box. “I haven’t touched a cent of the money in here. I’m returning it to you.” Summer… Everett’s phoenix eyes curved slightly, but the smile didn’t reach them: “Then what do you want?” “The position of Mrs. Pierce?” I was shocked that he would say such a thing and looked at him in disbelief. “Do you think you’re worthy?” he said coldly, laughing. The room suddenly fell silent, with everyone’s gaze focused on me. I put down the box and fled the room. I leaned against the staircase, gasping for air, tears falling uncontrollably. “Crying?” came a familiar voice from behind. I wiped my tears and mumbled: “No.” Everett looked me up and down, smiling as he stuffed a wad of cash into my hand. He raised an eyebrow: “Eat more. Your curves have all but disappeared.” “Seduction requires capital too.” I stood frozen until his figure disappeared from sight before coming to my senses. I ran out of the hospital crying, not knowing where to go. I took out the money and stared at it for a long time. In this city, it seemed I was alone again. 04 Back home, there were broken pieces on the floor, along with many paper stars. I picked up a star and unfolded it. It read: “Sister, be happy every day!” This was the birthday gift Summer had given me. After my parents passed away, I lost all hope in life and hadn’t celebrated my birthday since. When I found Summer, he was lying in an alley, covered in blood. Out of sympathy, I brought him home. When he woke up, I realized he was simple-minded. But he was very obedient, sweetly calling me “Sister” and clinging to me. He became like a pillar of support for me in this unfamiliar city. Supporting me to keep living. I named him Summer. I had thought about sending him back to his family. So I took him to the police station and registered his information. He was well-behaved the whole way, until I was about to leave. He tugged at my sleeve, his eyes reddening: “Sister, are you going to abandon me?” I pulled my hand away, smiling as I said: “Sister’s going to buy Summer some candy. Be good and wait for me, okay?” He sat on the chair like an abandoned puppy, watching his owner leave with sad eyes. I thought that would be our farewell. But three days later, I ran into Summer rummaging through garbage bins on my way home from work. “Summer?” He froze for a moment before turning around, looking at me with tears in his eyes. He reached out, wanting to touch me but not daring to come closer. “Summer, why are you here?” I asked. He looked at me with reddened eyes, his voice trembling: “Sister, I’ll be very good.” “Can you… not abandon me?” It turned out he had run away from the police station the night I left. He thought I didn’t want him anymore. I hugged him, feeling both angry and heartbroken. The winter night was cold, and we two homeless children hugged each other for warmth. I once thought we would always be together. 0

The next year, I celebrated Summer’s birthday. His face was covered in cream from the cake, but he still smiled at me happily: “Sister, when is your birthday?” “December 22nd.” I thought he was just asking casually. But on that day, he carefully presented me with a clay figurine: “Sister, happy birthday!” The figurine was ugly, with “Summer loves only Kaia” carved on its belly. “Only love?” I asked him with a smile. “Do you know what that means?” Summer looked proud: “I know, it means loving only one person.” “I only love Kaia!” Now, the clay figurine with “Summer loves only Kaia” carved on it had shattered into several pieces. It couldn’t be put back together. At the time, I thought the clay figurine was all he had given me, so I put it away. I didn’t expect there was something inside. No wonder he had been sulking for days when he saw me not touching the figurine anymore. So that’s why. I unfolded another star. It read: “Let’s always be together.” At the end was a clumsily drawn heart, showing the creator’s thoughtfulness. I looked at it for a long time, my tears falling and blurring the heart on the paper. Little liar. 0

Leaves return to their roots. Now, I just wanted to go home. I sold the house. The money was just enough to buy a plot in the cemetery to be buried with my parents. I sold the bag of bottles Summer had collected. It totaled $16.50. “How can I support you with so little money?” I muttered to myself. The paperwork was done. In two days, I could leave this heartbreaking place. But the day before I was to leave, an unexpected visitor arrived. “Eric Pierce?” He looked a bit surprised: “Miss Evans, you know me? I’m honored.” “What brings you here?” I asked. Eric wore a gentle smile: “Miss Evans, I’d like to invite you to be my date.” “Your date?” I looked at him in surprise, unable to understand the thinking of rich people. He was handsome and wealthy. With a wave of his hand, countless women would throw themselves at him. Why would he choose me, a woman of ordinary background and looks? I was about to refuse when he said: “My brother Everett will be there too.” I hesitated. Even if I couldn’t say goodbye to Summer, it would be nice to see him from afar one last time. Although I didn’t know Eric’s motives, I agreed. I, a person with no parents and a serious illness, had nothing to be schemed for anyway. I wore the dress Eric had prepared, unconsciously touching the mirror. Eric’s eyes flashed with admiration as he placed a necklace around my neck, chuckling: “My brother is not only simple-minded but also blind.” I pressed my lips together, not responding. When we arrived at the banquet, I just wanted to flee. This wasn’t some business event, but Everett’s engagement party. He stood there, naturally exuding nobility and coldness, like a bamboo after snow – eye-catching. The woman beside him wore a white dress, as if she had draped the Milky Way over herself, dazzlingly beautiful. “Does Miss Sophia have anything to say?” the host asked. “I’m glad I could make a playboy settle down, and I’m glad I’ve always been by Everett’s side,” Sophia replied. I touched the bracelet on my wrist dejectedly. It was woven by Summer and contained some of his hair. But now, Everett only had a blindingly bright ring on his finger. Actually, I was also grateful to have met Summer during the lowest point of my life. He was like a dream I had, accompanying me through my darkest times before leaving. I just wished… the dream could have lasted a little longer. 0I wanted to escape, but Eric held me back. He smiled: “Don’t you want to offer your congratulations?” Reluctantly, I followed him to Everett’s side. Everett glanced at me, his tone frivolous: “So my brother likes second-hand goods.” I felt my breath catch, my heart inexplicably aching. Sophia beside him smiled at him: “Don’t say that. At least she took care of you for three years.” Everett made a sound of acknowledgment and asked someone nearby for a check, which he handed to me: “Fill in any amount you want.”

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I have been raising my nephew, James Taylor, on my own for five years since his mother, my brother’s ex-girlfriend, left. Little did I know that his mother was the heiress to a billionaire. When the billionaire found out I was taking care of the child, he wired a hundred million dollars directly to me. At the same time, my dad texted me, saying my sister-in-law had a miscarriage. I immediately replied that I would quit my job and come back to help, but before I could send another message, I found myself blocked. I tried messaging my mom, brother, and sister-in-law, but they all blocked me too. Thinking something serious had happened, I rushed home. To my surprise, as I reached the door, I overheard my sister-in-law complaining: “In this heat, they’re making me run around after a miscarriage to transfer property. Are they trying to make my life hell?” My mom replied, “Isn’t it all for your own good? She quit her job and brought a child back, what good can come from that?” My sister-in-law sneered, “She’s bringing a kid home to take over the house? It’s not the thief stealing that’s scary, but the thief thinking about stealing! I don’t want to live with such a burden.”

Standing outside the door, listening to their conversation, my heart sank. I treated them like family, yet they treated me as an outsider. The midday sun was blazing, but I felt chilled to the bone. I stood frozen at the door, unable to find the courage to step inside, even though it was right in front of me. After a long while, drenched in sweat, little Charlie squeezed my hand and asked, “Mom, why aren’t we going in?” I snapped back to reality and knocked on my family’s door. My mom opened the door, looking surprised to see me and Charlie: “Emily, you’re back! Why didn’t you let us know earlier? It’s such a hot day; don’t get heatstroke.” She stood blocking the entrance, showing no intention of inviting me in. I suppressed my hurt feelings and asked, “Mom, what does this mean? You’re not letting me in?” Caught off guard, my mom gave an awkward laugh and hesitated before stepping aside: “Of course not! You’re more than welcome, come in.” I held Charlie’s hand as we entered the house I hadn’t seen in five years and headed straight for my room. As soon as I opened the door, I found a stranger in the room. Everything that once belonged to me was gone, replaced by new furnishings. I turned to my mom and asked, “Mom, what’s going on?” She apologized to the person inside and closed the door. Pulling me aside, she whispered, “You’ve been away for so long, I thought why leave the room empty when we can rent it out and earn some extra income.” I asked, “Then where are my things? Where did you put them?” Without a hint of guilt, my mom replied: “As you can see, there’s no space at home. We threw away what couldn’t be used and gave away what could, found them a good home.” I felt deeply wronged: “Mom, you knew I stayed away for five years to take care of…” Before I could finish, my mom rushed to cover my mouth. My dad, hearing this, looked at me and said, “Little Emily doesn’t know about this yet. She’s just had a miscarriage; don’t stress her out!” Seeing my parents’ reaction was like a knife to my heart. It felt as if they and my sister-in-law were the family, and I was just an outsider. Tears welled up in my eyes as I stared at the floor, trying not to let them fall. “So, where will the child and I stay?” I asked, unwilling to give up. Avoiding my gaze, my mom stammered: “You see, there’s really no room at home. How about you find a place outside to stay?” Seeing I didn’t respond, she continued: “I have three hundred dollars here; it should be enough for you to stay somewhere cheap with the child for a few days. “Oh, and the new pavilion in the park is nice and cool at night. You and Charlie could each take a side, enjoy the view and sleep—it’s a natural scenic room and saves money!” Her words made me laugh, fueled by anger: “So, the house I paid for has a room rented to strangers, and I can’t even have a place to stay. Is that what you’re saying?”

Hearing the commotion, my sister-in-law came over: “Oh, I thought it was some stray dog barking outside, annoying me. Turns out it’s my sister-in-law. “The real owner of the house is back with her kid, making a fuss for a room. Looks like she’s bent on kicking me out!” I let it go, considering her mood after the miscarriage. Just then, my brother came home, paused when he saw me with the child: “Emily, why did you come back suddenly? Why didn’t you tell me so I could pick you up?” I asked him, “While I was away, my room was rented to strangers. Where will the child and I stay now?” Without hesitation, my brother said, “You’re my sister. Now that you’re back, even if I have to pay a penalty to the tenant, I’ll make room for you. “If he refuses, my wife and I can stay with friends for a few days. This is your home; you won’t be without a place to stay.” His words warmed my heart, reminding me that my brother was still as good to me as five years ago. I nodded and said, “Alright, let’s do that.” My brother, surprised by my quick response, stood there unsure of what to do. My sister-in-law couldn’t hold back and shouted: “Emily, are you really that clueless? Can’t you see no one wants you here? Do I have to spell it out for you? “I just had a miscarriage, and you bring your kid home. What’s the deal? Mocking me for not being able to have kids, showing off, and taking over my nest?” I bit my lip and trembled as I replied: “Sister-in-law, my family is here. Why can’t I stay at home?” She looked at me with disdain, as if looking at garbage: “The problem is you don’t even see you have a problem. You claim to be a non-marital advocate, yet you had a child out of wedlock. “And now you have the nerve to bring him home and live under the same roof as your married brother. Aren’t you afraid of ruining our family’s reputation?” I looked at my brother; his eyes darted everywhere, avoiding mine. I looked at my mom; she scratched her head and picked her nails, not standing up for me at all. My dad turned up the TV volume, acting completely detached. My sister-in-law’s outburst made me realize something. Did my parents and brother not tell my sister-in-law that James is my brother’s child with his ex-girlfriend? Are they teaming up to kick me out? My heart felt like it was being torn apart, bleeding slowly. Painful, itchy, and numb. I looked at them in disbelief: “Why are you treating me like this? Aren’t we family? Aren’t we blood-related?” Tears choked my voice, but they remained unmoved. My sister-in-law quickly responded: “You’re raising a child and just quit your job. Have you thought about whether any company will hire you again? “You can’t earn a penny, yet you come home to fight your brother for a house. At least the tenant pays rent—can you? “Have you thought about how you and the child living here will only become a burden to us?”

Her words made me sway, and I leaned against the cabinet to steady myself: “So, to you, I’m not part of this family, but just an extra? You see me as a burden, so you want to throw me away like trash?” My mom finally spoke: “You finally get it. You bring a child back, and we suddenly have two more mouths to feed. We really can’t afford it. “We could rely on the tenant for some income, but if we drive them away for you, we’d have nothing to live on.” I looked at my mom with a bitter smile: “You call me a burden? Wasn’t it you and Andrew Taylor who begged me to help him raise the child? “I lent you the second-hand apartment I bought for my retirement, while I rented a place to raise my brother’s child for five years. “And now, just because I quit my job to bring the child home, to live in my own room, you want to kick me out. Do you think that’s fair to me?” My sister-in-law’s eyes widened in anger: “What did you say? This child is Andrew’s?! “No way, that’s impossible; you must be lying!” She grabbed my mom’s arm: “Mom, what’s really going on?!” “I lent you the villa I bought for my retirement, and I went out to rent a place for my brother’s son, whom I’ve been looking after for five years. “Now, just because I resigned and returned home with the child to stay in my own room, you want to throw me out. Do you really think that’s fair?” My sister-in-law’s eyes were wide with anger: “What did you say? This child belongs to Andrew Taylor?! “No, that can’t be true, you must be lying!” She grabbed my mom’s arm: “Mom, what’s happening here?” My mom shot me a fierce glare and tried to calm her: “Emily is just upset about being thrown out and is talking nonsense. How could this child be Andrew’s?” I watched them with a cold smile and said: “He is Andrew’s son with his ex-girlfriend. If you don’t believe me, you can do a paternity test.” My dad stormed over with a grim face and slapped me: “You just can’t keep quiet, can you? Always causing trouble! Do you think you have a say in this family? Get out!” I was stunned, frozen in place. He had never hit me before. He had always stood up for me. But this time, he took the opposite side. My brother couldn’t hold back anymore and revealed his true feelings: “Can you stop harping on about this? You’ve helped me with the child for five years, do you plan to keep bringing it up forever? You’re really making me feel ashamed. “I’ve started a new family, what am I supposed to do? Why are you so selfish? Can’t you consider me a bit? You’re into non-marital philosophy, so what’s wrong with helping me out with the kid? “Besides, if I raised the child with Olivia, who knows what people would say about her. Since everyone thinks Charlie is your illegitimate son, just keep raising him. Your reputation is already bad, why drag someone else down?” I poured my heart into raising my brother’s child, giving both money and effort, and this is how it ends! He’s worried about what people might say about Olivia, but not about tarnishing his unmarried sister’s reputation. He just doesn’t care about me. I looked at my brother coldly and said: “If you’re so considerate, why haven’t you paid a dime in child support for five years? “When you asked me to help raise the child, did you think about the problems I’d face as an unmarried woman raising a kid? “You’re the irresponsible one, yet I’m the one cleaning up after you, and you have the nerve to blame me for not considering you?” Five years ago, my brother knelt before me: “Sis, my ex-girlfriend threatened that if I don’t raise this child, she’ll accuse me of a crime. “Since you’re not interested in marriage, raising my son means you won’t have to worry about your own retirement.” My parents begged too: “He’s your only brother. Can you bear to see him tied down so early? Anyway, you’re not interested in marriage and won’t have kids, so just help him out!” I didn’t want to get married, let alone raise a kid. But seeing my brother kneel and his forehead bruised, I softened: “I can help raise him for now, but once you can, I’ll return him to you.” My brother agreed immediately and even hugged me, saying I was the best sister in the world. Who would’ve thought he’d get married without taking the kid? I watched him and his wife live happily, unwilling to cause trouble, and ended up raising the kid for five years. I gave my all to raise Charlie, never asking my brother for a cent. I ignored all the gossip and bore all the malice in silence. I gave money and effort, and in the end, this is what I got. What does family mean? Is it about holding you close when useful and tossing you away like trash when not? Can that still be called family? I suddenly couldn’t understand anymore. After I spoke, my brother complained: “You helped me raise Charlie for five years, and I’ve thanked you countless times. What more do you want? Should I light incense and worship you every day? “Olivia just had a miscarriage and needs rest. This house isn’t yours anymore. You barging in scared her, and we’re being polite by not kicking you out immediately. “Also, you quit and have a kid, but we don’t have extra money for unrelated people. Pack your things and find a place to stay, or you’ll be sleeping on the streets soon.” To my brother, whatever I did for him was my duty, and a simple thank you was enough for my five years of hardship. Now that I’ve quit and am dependent, I’m a shameless burden. My mom chimed in: “You claim to be into non-marital philosophy, which is already unfilial. Honestly, by not marrying or having kids, what’s your purpose? Did we raise you just so you could bring a kid home to freeload? “Given you helped your brother with his son, your dad and I didn’t say anything, treating you as family. But now you’re overstepping by wanting to move in, so don’t blame us for being ruthless in kicking you out.” My sister-in-law, pale, leaned against Andrew and said: “Whether Charlie is Andrew’s son doesn’t matter to me. Since you’ve raised him all these years, he’s your son. “I hope you have the sense to take him and leave by cab tonight, so you don’t upset me anymore.” My dad turned off the TV, looked at me coldly, and said: “You’re over thirty, yet still so troublesome. Since you dared to quit, you should bear the consequences, not us. There’s no free lunch in the world.” Their words numbed my once-pained heart. I looked at them, disappointed, and said: “Are you all determined to force me out of this house today?” They answered in unison: “Yes!” They were resolute and determined to sever ties with me. It seemed there was no room for reconciliation. I gave up completely: “Fine, since you’re so determined, I have no attachments. “From today on, we part ways. If we meet again, we’re strangers!” I finally saw clearly. A mere “resignation” revealed this cold-blooded family. They didn’t deserve my years of sacrifice, nor did they deserve the hundred million I initially intended to share with them. With that, I took Charlie’s hand and left without looking back. Chapter 5 After leaving home, Charlie and I wandered aimlessly on the street. Charlie seemed to sense my emotions, shook my hand, and looked up at me: “Mom, don’t be sad. You still have me.” Seeing Charlie so considerate warmed my heart a bit. Yes, I still have Charlie. I’m not entirely alone. Since they refuse to acknowledge Charlie, he will have nothing to do with them. Thinking back on these five years, Charlie endured so much with me, yet gained nothing in return. I picked up my phone and booked a presidential suite at the most luxurious hotel in the city. After putting Charlie to sleep, I lay on the bed, pondering where things went wrong.

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I talked to my boss about online dating. Meeting in person was out of the question. She didn’t know her online boyfriend was an employee of the company… Recently, the boss had been in a bad mood. Everyone who sensed this was working diligently, even slacking off less than usual. The boss was working crazy overtime, and no one dared to leave before her. As a result, we all ended up working until 11 or 12 at night. I was so exhausted that I developed dark circles under my eyes, and my skin even worsened. To be honest, I was probably the only person in the entire company who knew the reason for the boss’s irritable behavior, but I couldn’t say anything. Because the boss had just gone through a breakup. Coincidentally, that “ex” was me. Only she didn’t know it yet. The cause of all this was that my online girlfriend of two years wanted to meet in person. I met her on Twitter. She had posted a plea for help with the title “Why can’t I find a boyfriend?” When I clicked on it, the content read: “I’m a woman, 175cm tall, 45kg, 25 years old, graduated with a master’s degree from a top university in China, majored in Management Science and Engineering. Currently, I’m the vice president of a listed company with an annual salary of at least a million. I have a car and a house, and I look like a goddess. I’m still single. What’s wrong with me?” The comment section was full of mockery. “Fishing post, confirmed.” “Is the OP living in a dream? A master’s degree from a top university, just about 25 years old, and already a vice president of a listed company? Please, at least make it believable before you brag.” “As we all know, the only way to become a vice president at such a young age is through family businesses. Unfortunately, these rich kids usually study abroad.” With a playful mindset, I commented below, “It might be mainly a looks issue. Post a photo and let’s see.” After posting, I exited the thread. But not long after, the original poster sent me a private message. “Hi, can I send it privately?” Me: “?” Although confused, as a drama lover, I couldn’t resist the temptation to see how this would play out. “Sure.” Then a photo came through from the other side. I spat my coffee all over the desk. What the hell, 175cm? I wouldn’t believe it even if you said 150cm. It was a mirror selfie, with a third of the face covered. Due to the angle, the head looked big and the body small. She was wearing black-framed glasses, making her look both unfashionable and unattractive. But I had to admit, there was nothing wrong with that face. Even though only a large part was visible, those lips, that nose, those eyes, everything screamed four words: “I am a beauty” Somehow, she looked oddly familiar. Internally screaming, “How can there be a woman in this world who is beautiful but doesn’t know it,” and with a helpful attitude, after zooming in and out three or four times, I typed furiously: “You need to learn how to dress and take photos. Change your glasses, switch to frameless ones, or better yet, wear contacts. Don’t take photos from this angle! Tilt your phone slightly, with the charging port closer to you. Change your skirt, wear something slightly shorter, black maybe…” The other side replied with a “Thank you very much.” After finishing my advice, I didn’t pay much attention to it. But this girl followed my suggestions and sent me her “homework” the next day. After I gave more guidance, she did the same on the third day, then the fourth day, and the fifth day. Just when I was getting impatient, she proactively asked to add me on SnapChat and even offered to pay me a consultation fee. With the mindset of “It’s stupid not to make money when you can,” I gave her my personal account. Then a familiar avatar added me as a friend. Isn’t this the little boss? My hand trembled, and I accidentally accepted the request. Feeling my heart sink, I quickly changed the settings to chat only. My brain rapidly tried to recall if I had accidentally filled in my personal account somewhere in the company. The other side was typing for a while, then came a message: “Thank you very much for your guidance and help these past few days. This is a small token of my appreciation.” Then came a transfer of $5,000, with a note “Voluntary gift.” I was speechless. I took a screenshot, compared it with the SnapChat account, and confirmed it was indeed the online beauty and also our company’s little boss. After internally shouting “Oh my god” for a while, I shamelessly accepted the money. After all, this was my personal account, and the little boss didn’t know it was me. In the days that followed, I continued to help her improve bit by bit. She made progress very quickly and soon was able to fully showcase her beauty. However, just when I was about to declare mission accomplished and bow out, this girl confessed to me. First came a love letter that I hadn’t written since high school. I skipped it and went straight to the end: “Actually, there’s something I’ve wanted to say for a long time. I like you.” Me: … My silence was deafening. Me: “Thank you so much!” Her: “Huh???” Then: “I really like you!” “I really appreciate it!” “No, I’m serious.” I replied: “I really appreciate it!” My teeth were starting to hurt. What’s wrong with this girl? The other side seemed to pause for a moment, then said: “Anyway, can you give me a chance to pursue you?” I didn’t reply. That night, I had a rare bout of insomnia. Then the next day, this girl started sending me messages every day saying “Good morning,” “Good afternoon,” “Good evening,” and things like “I’m going to work,” “I’m leaving,” “I’ve arrived,” “I’m about to start working,” and so on. Well, this is how this child pursues someone. I occasionally responded half-heartedly, and this kid was overjoyed. The situation took a turn about a month later. At the time, I was happily scrolling through photos of beautiful women and casually shared one with my good buddy, but my hand slipped, and I sent it to her instead. Me: “Haha, I like this so much, I want to lick it.” Me: “Video” Her: “?”

By the time I saw the message, it was too late to recall it. Although appreciating beauty is human nature, for some reason, I felt a bit guilty. At this moment, she suddenly sent a message: “Do you like this kind?” Then she sent a video. It should have been freshly recorded in the gym. It wasn’t the perfect muscle lines, but very white, with a beautiful mermaid line winding down and disappearing into the sports shorts below. As for the upper part… Well, very pink! The owner of the video seemed very shy, and her face was all red when it was caught on camera at the end. I got hard. Me: “Is there more? Give me some more!” Then she shyly sent over a few more videos. I admit, I had been corrupted by beauty. I never thought that the little boss, who usually looked so abstinent, would be so… well, in private. How should I put it? It felt strangely exciting. Just as I was enjoying it, she suddenly sent a message. “If you agree to be my boyfriend, I’ll record videos like this for you every day, enough for you to see your fill.” Most people pursue four things in life: money, power, fame, and sex. The first three had nothing to do with me, so the last one was quite tempting. Me: “… Well… I suppose it’s not impossible.” After all, it was just online dating. Of course, there were conditions. No going public, no changing profile pictures, no video calls, no meeting in person. She wasn’t very happy about it but still agreed. This went on for two years. As she became better at dressing up, I also ate better, and she could pull off various styles. Just when I thought these days would continue, this girl proposed to meet in person. Me: “Didn’t we agree not to meet in person? Just online dating, not involving reality.” She sounded very upset: “I know, I’m sorry, but I really want to see you.” I knew what she was up to. A few days ago, I had a college reunion. After I came back, a college classmate confessed to me. I rejected her once, and then she sent me a lot of creepy and disgusting messages. I exposed her on Instagram and ranted about it. Then I deleted and blocked her. Since we were dating, she could see it too. She wanted to meet in person and then publicly claim her territory. I knew very well why we couldn’t meet in person, so the answer was definitely no. After she pestered me for a week, I got a bit annoyed and suggested breaking up. This scared her, and she wilted like a frost-bitten eggplant, suddenly deflating. My phone showed incoming calls for the nth time. I sighed and silently flipped the phone face down on the desk. At this moment, my immediate superior, Luke Hughes, suddenly called me. “Gus, take this proposal to VP Taylor.” It was well known throughout the company that Luke had a crush on Ottilie Taylor. Usually, he would be eager to interact with her more. But recently, she had been in a bad mood. Last time he approached her, his well-intentioned but misguided attempt at comfort earned him a scolding, which was quite embarrassing. Since then, he stopped trying these unnecessary interactions. I hissed and gave a wry smile: “Mr. Hughes, I’m a level below her after all. Wouldn’t it be inappropriate to bypass the chain of command?” Ottilie Taylor was my online girlfriend. Although I had her contact information for work, I had never interacted with her. Moreover, this proposal had been delayed for a long time, and Ottilie Taylor was never satisfied with it. Even if she was in a good mood, it would still be criticized, let alone now. With her current mood, this was clearly sending me to take the blame. Luke rolled his eyes: “Just do what I tell you to do. Why so much fuss?” … Fine. Although I had practically seen everything online, I was still a bit nervous about interacting in reality. Especially at work, where she was known for being strict and quite assertive. — And quite sharp-tongued. After hesitating for a moment, I took out my phone. That day after I suggested breaking up, this girl had been apologizing constantly, clearly panicking, but I hadn’t replied. At the time, I was just being harsh when I suggested breaking up, and I hadn’t really looked at my messages since. Partly to avoid softening my stance, and partly to dampen her enthusiasm. Meeting in person was out of the question, but breaking up was feasible. After thinking for a moment, I sent a message. “We don’t have to break up, but can you be good? I really don’t like people who don’t keep their word.” She replied instantly: “Baby, you finally replied to me. I know I was wrong, I’m sorry. I’ll never do it again.” Then she sent a crying puppy emoji. I took a deep breath and knocked on the door. The person inside panicked for a moment, then cleared her throat: “Come in.” As soon as I entered, my gaze was drawn to Ottilie Taylor’s slightly red nose. Had she been crying? Noticing my gaze, she seemed a bit embarrassed and tapped the desk: “Are you here to submit the proposal? Put it here, you can go back now.” Her temper had clearly improved. Otherwise, she would have already reprimanded me for bypassing the chain of command. Previously, a colleague was fired for reporting directly to higher-ups. Although besides bypassing the chain of command, that colleague was also incompetent and disobedient, and was given severance pay in the end, it’s undeniable that bypassing the chain of command itself is a major workplace taboo. However, that proposal still didn’t pass muster and was sent back. Then Luke handed it to me again. I had no choice but to work overtime to revise it. But coincidentally, Ottilie Taylor was in a good mood today and left work on time. It was Friday, so the other colleagues who had been working overtime for a long time also left early. Soon, only the receptionist and I were left in the company. But I didn’t know how long it would take to finish this proposal, so I assured the receptionist that I would turn off the lights and lock the doors, letting her leave first. I don’t know how much time had passed when I heard the sound of the facial recognition lock at the door. I was startled, feeling a bit scared. Looking at the time, it was already 10 PM. At this hour, who could it be? Various office horror movies flashed through my mind. While trying to reassure myself that ghosts don’t exist, I instinctively held my breath, feeling a bit nervous and not daring to move from where I was. A familiar figure approached. When I saw the face clearly, I couldn’t help but let out a sigh of relief. It was Ottilie Taylor. “Why are you here alone? Aren’t you going home?” Ottilie Taylor seemed very surprised that I was still working overtime. I gritted my teeth inwardly: It’s all because of you! “This proposal is quite urgent. I’m afraid if I finish it tomorrow, it still might not be feasible, so I thought I’d work overtime today to refine it a bit.” “Oh, that proposal.” Ottilie Taylor paused for a moment, then surprisingly walked straight towards me. “Let me explain it to you in more detail. It’ll be easier for you to revise.” I tensed up — because we had made up, I had been replying to messages. Finding it troublesome to keep opening my phone, I had switched to my personal account on the computer. What should I do? Ottilie Taylor walked over: “Open it and let me take a look.” My brain was spinning rapidly, while my hands moved slowly. Just as I was about to switch, Ottilie Taylor said: “Move over, I’ll…” “Wait a minute!”

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When my husband’s father, Vincent Todd, arrived at our home, he not only tried to sabotage my job but also laid down a hundred and one rules for me to follow. He insisted that everything should revolve around serving my husband and them and that I must obey every command from the men in the house without question. He believed that a woman’s place was not in the workforce but at home, her duty to be the perfect housewife. I once reached out to his wife, Amanda Todd, for help. She was a hypocrite, coaxing me to comply. “Megan, Vincent is right. No woman can work outside and neglect her household duties.” I confided in my husband, but he only shrugged it off, doing nothing to help. “Oh, honey, Dad’s intentions are all for the good of the family.” With Vincent’s increasing cruelty, Amanda’s encouragement, and my husband’s indifference, I fell into depression and confusion, which eventually led to a car accident that took my life. When I was given a second chance, I decided to be the “picture-perfect”, “obedient” woman. This time, I took the initiative to show Vincent my allegiance. “You’re absolutely right! A woman should stay at home, take care of you and Amanda, and be a loving wife to my husband!”

The world around me sharpened into focus, and just as I was beginning to shake off the suffocating grip of death, Vincent stood firmly in my way. “Megan, do you think we can’t get by without your paycheck? How many times have I told you to quit your job and focus on being a proper housewife? Why won’t you listen?” Vincent’s eyes blazed with anger as he blocked the doorway, his stubbornness evident. Amanda, standing beside me, was in tears, softly urging me to comply. “Megan… Vincent’s right. What kind of woman goes out to work and neglects her household duties?” It was only when I saw this familiar scene unfold before me that the reality hit me—I had been reborn. Even though my limbs still ached with lingering pain, I realized that being crushed by a truck was not just a nightmare; it had really happened. Since my husband’s surgery, Vincent and Amanda had moved in under the pretense of visiting their son. But to my dismay, they had been living with us for six long months. Despite my best efforts to care for them, Vincent constantly nitpicked my every move, even going so far as to create a set of absurd family rules. He declared that I wouldn’t be allowed to leave until I met his standards according to his ridiculous regulations. The rules he set were outrageous! Everything revolved around serving Vincent and Amanda. I had to obey every command from the men in the house, and all decisions—big or small—had to be approved by them first. He even insisted that, despite being married, I had to maintain a demure demeanor: no showing teeth when I smiled, no loud talking, always sitting up straight, dressing modestly, and taking on all household chores. Anytime I wanted to socialize, I had to report my plans in advance. At first, I resisted these inhumane demands, but each time I tried to discuss it with Vincent, he would get so worked up that he’d end up in the hospital with his old ailments flaring up. Before long, everyone blamed me for being ungrateful and disrespectful to my elders, claiming I was the reason Vincent and Amanda had to run to the hospital so often. So, I swallowed my pride, repeatedly lowering my standards to appease them. In my previous life, it was this very set of rules that had driven me to depression, leading me to take a walk one day, only to be struck by that truck. This time, I wouldn’t allow myself to repeat the same mistakes! Seeing me standing there in silence, Amanda grabbed my arm, pulling me back from my thoughts. “Megan, Vincent looks like he’s about to faint! His health is already fragile. Do you really want to go against him right now? Are you really going to make me beg you?” Her words sent a shiver through me, and I quickly steadied Amanda, who looked ready to collapse. I feigned a look of defeat, pretending to give in. “Amanda, I won’t go to the office anymore… I’ll quit! I’ll do it right now!” But when Vincent heard this, his expression didn’t soften. His piercing gaze searched mine through his glasses; suspicion etched on his face. “Are you really sure you want to quit?” I projected an air of submission as if I’d finally made this decision after a painful struggle. “Yes! Your words have made me reconsider, and they make perfect sense. You’re right! A woman should stay at home, devoted to taking care of you guys and being a good wife!”

I thought to myself, “What do you mean ‘quit your job’? Only a fool would actually do that!” Behind the scenes, I secretly requested a month off from my boss. But in front of Vincent, I staged a little performance with a friend posing as my boss. So, when the night came for my ‘resignation’, Vincent was quite pleased, and Amanda let out a sigh of relief. But my husband, Nick Todd, was anything but calm. “Vincent, Amanda, I can take care of myself at home while I recover. Why do you insist that Megan quit her job?!” Vincent’s expression hardened at Nick’s words. He crossed his arms over his slightly protruding beer belly, adopting that familiar lecturing tone that suggested he’d lived longer than I could imagine. “A woman’s place is at home, supporting her husband and raising children. And I’m not some old-fashioned tyrant. I haven’t forced her to leave you just because she can’t have kids. All I want is for her to stay home and take good care of you while also being a good girl to me and Amanda. I think we’ve made enough concessions as parents. Now you’re telling me she needs to work? Do you really think your income isn’t enough to support her?” Nick was left speechless by this retort. In my previous life, on the day Vincent had brought up my resignation, I had fought back fiercely, unwilling to give up my job just as I was about to get a promotion. That confrontation had sent Vincent into a heart attack, landing him in the hospital, and the entire family had blamed me for being an inconsiderate person. Back then, Nick’s first reaction had been to subtly blame me too. “Megan, my dad’s getting old. Why do you have to argue with him? Can’t you just listen to what he says?” So this time, I decided to play the obedient one. Ironically, Nick was furious with me behind closed doors. “How can you just say you’re quitting? You make a fortune every month! What are we going to do about all the bills for this family after you quit?!” His tone was incredulous, completely at odds with the ‘son who earns 40 to 50 thousand a month’ that Vincent bragged about as if they were two different people! The truth was I was the main breadwinner in our household. After graduation, Nick’s meager income from writing novels at home didn’t even cover the small change from my paycheck. But Nick had inherited his father’s sense of pride, flaunting his ‘accomplishments’ while never correcting Vincent and Amanda’s assumptions. Every time I sent money to Vincent and Amanda, who lived in a small town, it was always under Nick’s name, even though the funds came from my wallet. Over time, everyone believed Nick was doing exceptionally well, sending his parents a whopping 10 thousand a month! In a place where over ninety percent of young people didn’t even make that much in a month, it was no wonder that relatives and neighbors constantly praised them. “Oh, you’ve really hit the jackpot with such a successful son!” “Nick’s always been a good kid! He’s so filial; my son should take a page from his book!” “I remember when he was just a little kid! Look at him now! I’m so envious…” Nick loved the attention, and I never bothered to correct Vincent and Amanda. So, to this day, they had no idea that I was the real backbone of our family’s finances. I couldn’t help but feel a sense of anticipation. When they finally realized that the son they were so proud of was actually a useless slacker and that the only substantial income in the family was the job they pressured me to quit, I could only imagine the look on Vincent and Amanda’s faces!

For the past couple of days, I had been feigning illness to avoid Vincent and Amanda, steering clear of any interaction with them. Thanks to Vincent’s self-righteous persona, he didn’t dare barge into my room to lecture me directly. However, that didn’t stop him from finding opportunities to stand at my door and spout off. “Nick, listen to me. We can’t coddle women these days! Back in Amanda’s day, she had a huge scar and still worked hard in the fields! How can Megan just sit in her room all day doing nothing?” Nick, anxious that his carefully crafted image of being wealthy was about to crumble, was busy pouring himself into his writing, hoping to bridge the financial gap. So even though he heard Vincent’s words, he didn’t have time to confront me. Vincent barked at Amanda, “What are you doing? Put that rag down! Don’t you realize how old you are? Those chores aren’t meant for you!” Amanda shot back, “Come on, old man! If we don’t clean, this door will gather dust! Megan’s sick, and we can’t just sit around doing nothing. Besides, I can still manage a little dusting here and there…” “Go ahead! Go on and tire yourself out! If you collapse, this family will fall apart, and then they’ll have no mother…” The two of them stood just outside my door, loudly ‘discussing’ their grievances. Even with earplugs stuffed in, I could hear every word clearly. I knew they were talking to me. Since they hadn’t been living here long, Vincent was too proud to reveal his true nature and lay down the law directly. As for their complaints about dust on the door? I had only been in my room for two days, not two years. Amanda pretended to defend me, but she was just as lethal as Vincent, always playing the victim while subtly twisting the knife. Days dragged on in this tedious manner, with Vincent becoming increasingly irritable, creating all sorts of noise, and Amanda occasionally crying just outside my door. Even Nick, usually wrapped up in his creative endeavors, started popping into my room more frequently to check on my health. I realized my sick act was wearing thin! But on the bright side, my self-imposed retreat was nearing its end. The next morning, as Vincent returned from his early morning workout, he saw me finally opening my door. The pent-up frustration from the past days spilled over, and he couldn’t help but throw a sarcastic remark my way. “Whoa! Who do we have here? Did you get lost on your way out?” Amanda quickly intervened, rushing to my side, “Now, now, old man, let’s not be too harsh. Megan, come on, it’s time to eat.” Once we all sat down at the table, Amanda put on a sincere yet apologetic expression and said to me, “I just got here, so I’m not sure what you like. My eyesight isn’t what it used to be, and I accidentally cut my hand while doing chores yesterday. Cooking is a bit tricky for me right now, so if it doesn’t taste great… please bear with me.” With that well-rehearsed speech, she effectively ignited a silent war at the table. Vincent’s face darkened immediately. “Do you know what people are saying about Nick getting such a great wife? She’s always locked up in her room, making us do all the dirty work. It’s like she thinks she’s the boss around here!” Nick, who prided himself on his image, couldn’t take it anymore. “Megan, what’s gotten into you lately? My mom works so hard taking care of this house, and you just sit there, not even cooking your own meals. And when she does cook for you, you still find something to complain about!” I moved slightly, and he misinterpreted it as reaching for a fork. “Don’t even think about eating! Are you really that clueless? Can’t you see my dad is upset? Go reflect on your behavior according to our family rules, and apologize to Mom properly. Otherwise, don’t think this is over between us!” Despite being prepared for this, their blatant disrespect still managed to amuse me. This whole family, living off the groceries I buy, wearing luxury clothes paid for with my salary, using items from the property that’s in my name, had the audacity to scold me, the owner, as if I was their subordinate. They were right about one thing: in the past two years, my constant giving in and indulgence had emboldened them, making them forget their place and treat me like an inferior.

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Everyone else was scrambling to sell their accounts, but there I was, staying up all night, saying my goodbyes to the NPCs. People joked that I’d lost it—treating NPCs like actual people. Then the day came: the game’s dungeons merged with the real world, and those so-called NPCs became the ultimate bosses in reality. While everyone else was running for their lives, I was sitting in my yard, fishing and enjoying a hot pot. Bosses? What bosses? Those are my buddies. The news hit like a bombshell: Sword World, the game that had taken the world by storm, was shutting down in 24 hours. The moment the announcement dropped, players everywhere rushed to sell their accounts. My roommate Sarah was no different. “You should sell yours too,” she urged. “Might as well make some money back while you still can.” But I couldn’t do it. This wasn’t just a game account to me. It was a reminder of everything I’d been through, a source of comfort during my hardest years. To me, it was priceless. When Sarah suggested we sell our accounts together as a bundle, I politely turned her down and logged into the game by myself. If this was the end, I wanted to say goodbye properly. After all, this game had been with me for five long, difficult years. I followed my usual routine: I harvested the vegetables in my little virtual garden, tidied up, and got everything in order. Then, I set off to visit the NPCs one last time. I spent every last coin in my account. I bought the stable boy his favorite pastries. Picked out the perfect calligraphy set for the schoolteacher. And got the beggar by the city gates a new pair of straw sandals. One by one, I visited them all, bringing gifts and watching as they broke into their familiar smiles. “Thank you, hero!” they said, cheerful as always. I couldn’t help but smile back. “Goodbye,” I whispered to the screen. “I don’t think we’ll meet again, but I hope you’ll be okay. Take care of yourselves.” Behind me, Sarah let out a loud snort. “Are you serious?” she said, rolling her eyes. “They’re just a bunch of lines of code. The moment the servers shut down, they’ll get deleted in an instant.” “Take care of themselves? You’re acting like they’re real people!” I stayed quiet, but her mocking tone grated on me. “You’ve totally lost it,” she continued, laughing. “Calling NPCs your ‘friends’? You need help. Like, actual help. Maybe I should tell someone—get you checked out or something.” Then she reached for my phone. “Come on, stop being ridiculous! Just sell your account already! If we sell ours together, we’ll get way more money.” I shoved her hand away. “I said no, Sarah!” My voice was steady, but my patience was wearing thin. “And for the record,” I added, staring her down, “friends are the ones who bring you comfort and joy. These NPCs did that for me when no one else did. So yeah, they’re my friends. Deal with it.” As we argued, the clock quietly struck midnight. I glanced at my phone, and my heart sank. The game had logged me out. The servers were officially shut down. No more Sword World. No more NPCs. And worst of all, I hadn’t made it to Michael. Michael—the sensitive one, the one who’d probably take it the hardest if I disappeared without saying goodbye. I stared at the blank screen, guilt gnawing at me. But it didn’t matter now. Sword World was gone, and there was nothing I could do.

The day Sword World shut down, the wind outside was ferocious. I watched from the dorm window as a convenience store’s patio umbrella, base and all, was ripped off the ground and sent flying several meters down the street. The store clerk ran out, trying to grab it, but the wind shoved him back like a toy. Every news channel was looping coverage of the global storm. Experts took turns sharing their theories, but no one could explain it. Some people online were even saying it was the end of the world. Meanwhile, I stared at the dwindling food stash in our dorm room. The storm showed no signs of stopping, and I was running out of options. My supplies wouldn’t last past tonight. Sarah, my roommate, didn’t seem worried at all. She leaned back in her chair, scrolling through her phone. “Told you you should’ve sold your account when you had the chance.” She smirked. “I got a cool eighty grand for mine. Once the money’s in my account, I’ll be swimming in takeout—even if delivery fees shoot up to a hundred bucks.” She shot me a glance. “You? You’re on your own. Hope you enjoy starving.” I ignored her. There was no point arguing. She clearly didn’t realize that no one in their right mind would drop that kind of money on a game account after the servers shut down. It was almost definitely a scam. I got up, heading toward the bathroom to wash up when something strange happened. A cold, robotic voice echoed through the room. “Sword World dungeon successfully initialized. First mission: find Coco’s favorite item near the village entrance. Time limit: 24 hours. Failure will result in erasure.” I froze. “Coco?” I whispered. Sarah, on the other hand, rolled her eyes. “What the hell? A mission? Who’s pulling this dumb prank?” I wasn’t sure what to say. Coco was a name I knew—she was an NPC in Sword World. The granddaughter of the beginner village chief. A sweet little girl who loved playing hide-and-seek by the creek near the village gates. But this couldn’t be real. It had to be some weird coincidence. Before I could think further, there was a loud, frantic knock at the door. Sarah sighed dramatically and stomped over to open it. “Who is it?” Standing there was Jessica, another girl from our dorm. She looked awful—her clothes were torn, and she was covered in blood. She wobbled unsteadily, clutching the doorframe for support. “Help… me…” she gasped, her voice barely above a whisper. Then, before we could react, she collapsed, hitting the floor with a sickening thud. Behind her, standing in the hallway, was a little girl. She couldn’t have been older than six or seven, with twin pigtails and a lollipop in her hand. She swayed slightly as she stared at us, her big, round eyes sparkling with an eerie light. Then she smiled. “Big sister,” she said sweetly, tilting her head. “Did you find my favorite thing yet?” Sarah jumped back in shock. “What the—where did this creepy kid come from?! Hey, where are your parents?!” I couldn’t move. I couldn’t even speak. The girl’s face, her outfit, her voice—it was exactly like Coco. The Sword World NPC. Down to the last detail. My stomach twisted into knots. This couldn’t be real. There was no way someone could look exactly like an NPC from a video game. I took a step back, my mind racing. But as I moved, something cold brushed against my leg. The chill shot through me like ice water. I looked down. Jessica. She was lying there, motionless. Her skin was pale, her lips blue. I crouched down, reaching out with trembling hands, and froze when I touched her. She was ice-cold. Her entire body felt like it had been pulled out of a freezer. I scrambled backward, panic rising in my chest. “She’s—she’s gone!” Sarah turned to glare at me, annoyed. “What the hell are you talking about? gone? Are you losing it?” Before I could respond, the TV, my phone, Sarah’s laptop—every screen in the room suddenly flickered and changed to the same broadcast. A news anchor appeared on the screen, pale and visibly shaken. “This is an emergency announcement,” they began, their voice tense. “After thorough investigation, experts have confirmed that the recent global anomalies are linked to a martial arts game called Sword World.” I felt my blood run cold. The anchor continued, their tone growing more urgent. “We are now asking anyone familiar with this game to come forward and provide information. “If you encounter anyone resembling NPCs from the game, do not engage with them. Avoid contact at all costs. Do not speak to them, and leave the area immediately.” They paused, their eyes darting nervously off-camera. Then, in a lower voice, they added: “If you must interact with them, answer their questions carefully. Incorrect answers may result in….” The broadcast repeated the warning, hammering it into viewers’ heads: “Do not engage with NPCs. Do not make eye contact. Answer questions with extreme caution.” Then, the screen cut to a slideshow of game NPCs.

“No way… this has to be some kind of joke. There’s no way the game’s NPCs are actually real!” Sarah stared in disbelief, her eyes darting back and forth between the computer screen and the little girl standing in front of us. Meanwhile, Coco stood there smiling sweetly, looking for all the world like a perfectly normal kid. “Big sister,” she said, tilting her head innocently. “Did you find Coco’s favorite thing yet? It’s getting late, and Coco needs to go home. Hurry and tell me, okay?” My hands started to tremble—not from fear, but from excitement. I thought I’d never see them again—the friends who had been with me through the hardest five years of my life. When Sword World shut down, it felt like losing a piece of myself. All the people, the stories, the memories I’d poured my heart into—they were gone in an instant. All I could do was sit by helplessly as years of effort disappeared overnight. I remember the shock when I first heard the news. It was like my blood had turned to ice. I couldn’t stop replaying it in my head; I couldn’t stop panicking over what life might be like without them. But now… now they were back. Sure, the situation was strange—terrifying, even—but I couldn’t help feeling a spark of joy. Sarah’s voice snapped me out of my thoughts. “Who the hell knows what she likes?” she said, glaring at Coco. “She’s just some random NPC from the beginner’s village! She barely even has a role in the game.” Then Sarah’s expression shifted. Her eyes lit up with an idea, and before I could react, she grabbed my arm and shoved me forward. “She knows!” Sarah blurted out, pointing at me. “Ask her! She can tell you!” And then, without a second’s hesitation, Sarah slammed the dorm door shut behind me. Through the small glass window in the door, I could see her smirking at me. “I’m not perishing for this,” she said with a cruel grin. “If anyone’s meeting their end because of this eerie little creature, it’s you.” She gave me a mocking wave. “Besides, isn’t this your thing? You’re always obsessing over NPCs and their stories. Time to put all that ‘research’ to good use. Go on, Betty—this is your big moment!” Her voice was dripping with malice, the same condescending tone she’d used so many times before. It was just like the way she’d told everyone I was “crazy” for treating NPCs like real people, the way she’d turned the entire class against me. Fine, Sarah. If this is how you want to play, I’ll play too. I turned to Coco, forcing myself to stay calm. “Coco,” I said gently, “I know what your favorite thing is. But after I tell you, can you promise me something?” She blinked, tilting her head curiously. “What is it, big sister?” “You have to ask that big sister, too,” I said, nodding toward Sarah through the window. “She really wants to answer your question as well.” Coco’s eyes lit up. “Oh! Does that big sister want to play with me, too? Okay! But you have to go first! Once you tell me, I’ll ask her next!” Behind the door, Sarah’s smirk vanished. Her expression twisted into panic as she realized what I was doing. She started banging on the door with her fists. “Betty, you bitch! You’re doing this on purpose, aren’t you? Just answer her question and get it over with!” She was practically screaming now. “You’re gonna get me in serious trouble! Darn it, Betty!” I ignored her. Leaning down, I whispered into Coco’s ear, my voice low enough that only she could hear. “Coco loves the butcher’s big cleaver, doesn’t she?” For a moment, Coco’s eyes gleamed with something sharp and unnatural. Then, she let out a soft giggle. “Wow, big sister, you really know a lot!” she said, clapping her hands together. Behind the door, Sarah’s banging grew even louder. “What did you tell her?!” she shouted, her voice cracking. “Betty, what the hell did you say?! You can’t just leave me hanging like this!” She sounded frantic now, her words tumbling over each other. “We’re roommates! You can’t just let me go! Help me!” But before I could respond, Coco’s cheerful voice cut through the chaos. “Hmm… but you got it wrong!” What? I froze. Sarah stopped yelling. For a moment, everything was silent.

She let out a cold laugh, her voice dripping with disdain. “Wow, and here I thought you were actually good at something. Typical Betty—useless and weird.” “You couldn’t level up properly; you were trash at dungeons, and now you can’t even figure out a low-level NPC. Pathetic.” Her smirk deepened as she delivered the final blow. “People like you—antisocial losers living in your little fantasy worlds—aren’t good for anything. Why don’t you just do everyone a favor and disappear already?” A sudden chill shot up from the ground, snapping me out of my thoughts. Startled, I looked down to see an icy column snaking its way up my legs, frost spreading fast. Within seconds, my legs were frozen solid below the knees, sharp crystals glinting in the light. This skill… I knew it. There was no mistake. It had to be her—the mischievous Coco from the beginner village in Sword World. “Coco!” I shouted, panic slipping into my voice. “Are you acting up again?” Her head tilted slightly, her big, round eyes blinking at me in confusion. “Didn’t I just tell you last night to behave and listen to your grandpa? What, you forgot already? If you keep this up, I’m not bringing you any more pork floss buns!” Her expression froze. She stared at me, wide-eyed, as if trying to process what I’d just said. “Who… are you?” she asked, her voice soft and hesitant. I crossed my arms, lifting my chin. “What? You don’t recognize me anymore? Oh, Coco, you’re in big trouble now! I’m never helping you steal the butcher’s cleaver again!” Her eyes widened and then sparkled with sudden recognition. In an instant, she canceled the skill and ran toward me, throwing herself into my arms. “It’s you! Mr. Handsome! Coco finally found you!” She hugged me tightly, burying her face in my chest, her voice trembling with excitement. “You don’t know how much Coco missed you! Coco waited and waited, but you never came back to visit.” I patted her head gently, trying to suppress a smile. But then she pulled back slightly, her innocent eyes scanning me from head to toe. Her brow furrowed in confusion. “But… Mr. Handsome, why are you a girl now? Did you… did you turn into a girl? Did you get a sex change?” … I froze, completely thrown off by her question. Her wide, curious eyes stared at me, waiting for an answer. I opened my mouth and then closed it again, unsure of what to say. God, why did I ever think it was a good idea to create a male character? Letting out an awkward laugh, I quickly changed the subject. “Uh, let’s not focus on that right now. What I do want to know is why you lied earlier. I didn’t get your question wrong, did I?” Coco’s smile faltered. Her eyes darkened slightly, and she lowered her head, her voice muffled as she spoke. “I didn’t lie,” she said softly. “You were right. That used to be my favorite thing. But it’s not anymore.” Before I could process what she meant, she suddenly looked up at me, her eyes blazing with anger. “Ms. Handsome!” she shouted, pointing angrily toward the door where Sarah had locked herself in. “It was her, wasn’t it? She hurt you! She was mean to you, wasn’t she?” Her small hands clenched into fists. “Don’t worry, Coco will protect you! Coco will get rid of her for you!” “Wait, Coco—” But before I could stop her, dozens of thin, glimmering ice threads shot out from her hands, slicing through the air like needles. Sarah barely had time to react. She let out a choked scream, scrambling to run, but it was too late. The ice threads pierced through her body in an instant, blood splattering the walls as she collapsed to the floor. She didn’t even have time to cry out. Her lifeless eyes stared blankly at the ceiling. Her body crumpled in a pool of red. Coco turned back to me, her face lighting up with pride. “See, sister? Aren’t you happy now?” I stared at Sarah’s body, my chest tightening painfully. My breath caught in my throat. “Coco,” I said carefully, forcing myself to stay calm. “You can’t just go around harming people like that. You’re still a kid—you don’t understand. This world isn’t like the one you came from.” I crouched down to her level, trying to meet her gaze. “When people gone here, they don’t come back. They’re gone forever. Do you understand?” Coco pouted, clearly unconcerned. But when she saw the seriousness in my expression, she hesitated and then reluctantly nodded. “Okay… I’ll listen to you, big sister.” Before I could say anything else, the school’s PA system cracked to life. “This is an urgent broadcast. Attention, all students. Sword World NPC Michael is currently searching for a specific individual: a man in a black bathrobe, with multicolored hair, a passion for gardening, and a large red flower on his head.” “Anyone with information is requested to report to the nearest TV tower immediately. This is a priority alert. A significant reward will be given for any leads.” I froze, staring at the speaker in disbelief. Seriously, Michael? Did you really have to describe my character in excruciating detail? I sighed heavily, grabbing Coco’s hand. “Come on, Coco. Michael’s looking for me. Let’s go find him.” But before I could take a step, Coco tugged on my hand, refusing to move. “Do we have to go?” she asked, her voice small and hesitant. “Can’t we just stay here? Just you and me?” I crouched down, frowning slightly. “Why, Coco? Don’t you want to see Michael? Don’t you miss him?” She squirmed, her eyes darting to the side. “Ms. Handsome… you don’t understand. Michael’s different now.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “He’s scary. Really scary. Coco doesn’t want to see him. Please, can we not go?” I couldn’t help but laugh softly. Typical kid behavior. Michael? Scary? The guy was the definition of calm and polite—probably the least threatening person I’d ever met. I ruffled her hair, smiling reassuringly. “Don’t worry, Coco. I’ll protect you. Let’s go.” Reluctantly, she nodded and followed me out of the dorm, though her steps were heavy with hesitation. We’d barely made it down the hall when we ran straight into John and his group.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “295214”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster #现实主义Realistic #浪漫Romance #魔幻Magic

The summer of my sophomore year, Logan Hart lured me into his bed. From that moment, he seemed addicted—devoted to me for the next five years. My friends would tease him, calling him overly lovesick: “Even simps aren’t this devoted.” Until one day, I stumbled upon his secret WhatsApp account. Thousands of status updates—all filled with pictures of his childhood sweetheart in plaid schoolgirl skirts. The girl in the photos was youthful and captivating, her charm impossible to ignore. I then realized that these five years were nothing but a trade-off. While his body was with me, his heart had long since found its way to her. Content The night Logan came home. He swept me into the bedroom with impatient hands when he stepped through the door. Logan’s appetite in that department was insatiable; a few days apart were all it took for his restraint to snap. There was no time for romance, just a rush to satisfy his needs. It was familiar, mechanical even. Quick and over. I collapsed onto the bed, barely conscious. Ding! His phone chimed with a notification. Logan glanced at the screen, immediately getting up to leave. “Where are you going this late?” He kissed my forehead softly. “Something came up at work. I won’t be long.” A strange sense of unease crept over me. Call it women’s intuition, but something didn’t feel right. Summoning my energy, I called his office: “Are many people working overtime tonight? I was thinking of sending everyone BBQ as a treat.” “No one’s working late tonight,” his assistant replied. “Mr. Hart gave us all the night off. The office is empty.” I hung up, staring blankly at the bed. If Logan wasn’t at work, where had he gone so late? By early morning, Logan returned with my favorite dumplings from Sullivan’s in Chicago. The dumplings were perfect—thin skin, rich filling, and a burst of savory broth. He grinned, ruffling my hair. “Anything you want, honey, even if it’s the moon, I’ll find a way to turn it into a pie for you.” I couldn’t help but laugh. Maybe I was just overthinking things. The idea of Logan not loving me? My best friend Marlow Hayes wouldn’t believe it for a second. “Sierra, you’re being paranoid again. Logan’s head over heels for you—he’d probably die without you. “You’ve been dating for five years, and every time you argue, who’s apologizing and begging you to make up? “Stop making him wait. Just marry the guy already.” Marlow wasn’t wrong. Logan had indeed given more in this relationship. But she didn’t know the truth—Logan had never proposed to me. He’d always say, “I want to give you the best, baby. Let me build a solid foundation before we talk about marriage.” I was young and didn’t want to be tied down by marriage. So we dragged on like this for five years. As I reheated the dumplings, I caught Logan on the couch, staring at his phone with a soft smile on his lips. “What’s making you so happy?” I asked. Hearing me, Logan quickly erased the smile from his face. “Nothing, just a funny video.” “Show me.” Instead of sharing, he put his phone away and scooped me into his arms.

He huskily whispered, “Nothing’s more beautiful than you.” Before I could argue, he pushed me down onto the bed, kissing and biting me playfully. His phone slid onto the mattress within my reach. It was his WhatsApp, but the account name was unfamiliar—Starry Sky. That night, I couldn’t sleep. I unlocked his phone and combed through the messages and posts individually. What I found left me reeling. The posts told a story of a Logan I didn’t recognize: October 9, 2019: Do you know what I did? I slept with someone else. You betrayed me first, so don’t blame me for doing the same. I remembered that night. Logan had stumbled into my apartment, drunk out of his mind. July 1, 2020: I’m preparing for my grad school exams. Don’t think graduating means you can leave me. That was the day he confessed his love to me. March 17, 2022: You dared to get engaged behind my back? I’ll never forgive you. That night, Logan was so drunk he scratched me in a frenzy, leaving red marks on my back. December 24, 2023: I know you broke up. I’ll always be here waiting for you. That was Christmas Eve when Logan told me he had a business dinner and couldn’t spend the holiday with me. My hands trembled as I scrolled to the most recent post, dated two nights ago—the night he left claiming he had work. “What’s lost will always find a way back to me.” The attached photo featured a young woman in a plaid schoolgirl skirt with a youthful and alluring figure. I zoomed in on the face. It was Wren Keaton, Logan’s childhood sweetheart. A wave of nausea hit me. My hands shook so hard I nearly dropped the phone. These five years hadn’t been love. I was nothing more than a stand-in while his heart stayed with her. Their shared past and youthful romance was their story, not mine. I had been the outsider all along. I didn’t cry or scream. Instead, I calmly took screenshots, saved everything, and placed the phone back where it was. That evening, Logan came to me with a new assortment of “toys.” I turned my back on him coldly. “I’m on my period. Not tonight.” Logan smirked and wrapped me in his arms, his voice teasing yet possessive. “I promise to be gentle.”

Logan tried coaxing me several times, but when I kept refusing, his expression darkened. “Well, babe, get some sleep. I need to swing by the office for work.” Marlow, my best friend, used to joke about Logan’s persistence: “You should be grateful. A man only sticks around like that if he loves you.” I used to think she was right. Logan never hid his physical desires. But now I understand the difference between men and women: men can separate their desires from their hearts, offering one to each. If a man truly loves someone, would he so carelessly hurt her to the point of breaking? On his secret WhatsApp story, Logan once described Wren as: “You’re my moonlight and a red string of fate. Just looking at you from afar is enough to fulfill me.” And yet, the first time Logan and I spent the night together, he treated me with reckless abandon, leaving me bruised and sobbing, begging him to stop. The difference between love and indifference—between us—was a gap I could never cross. I followed Logan to a café. Wren, dressed in a plaid schoolgirl skirt, was waiting at the door. She looped her arms around Logan’s waist as if they were teenage sweethearts. Logan pushed her against the wall, whispering something that made her smile. Under the dim streetlight, the two kissed passionately. From my hidden corner, I snapped photos of the scene. After five years of dating Logan, we’d tried every kind of intimacy, but he’d always avoided kissing me. Watching them, lips locked and bodies closed, I chuckled bitterly. So, it wasn’t that he hated kissing—it was just that he didn’t want to kiss me. Logan trailed kisses down Wren’s neck, stopping when he reached her collarbone. “Let’s leave it here for tonight. I’ll come back tomorrow.” Wren clung to him with a teasing pout. “Going back to that other woman?” Logan hesitated before replying, “You’re the most beautiful. She’s nothing more than a placeholder.” That seemed to satisfy her, and she smiled. Logan added casually, “Does the shop still have any ice cream? I’d like to take one with me.” At that moment, my phone buzzed with a message from Logan: “Hey, sweetheart, I’m bringing you your favorite pistachio ice cream. Happy now?”

He’s out with another woman but still bringing me her ice cream? I replied, “Oh, okay,” my face was cold as stone as I closed the chat. How much longer could he keep up this performance? Not long after, Logan returned, carrying a Sweet Red Bean Dessert. Trailing behind him was an inebriated Colton Rivers, his childhood friend. Colton was too drunk to stand, so Logan dropped him off in the guest room. Late that night, I went to the kitchen for water and overheard their conversation. Logan’s voice was sharp with irritation: “Keep screwing around like this, and don’t expect me to bail you out.” Colton, ever the carefree playboy, slurred in response: “You’re too uptight, man. Women are like clothes—you’ve gotta have a few spares, right?” “Messing around with random women will land you with a disease,” Logan shot back, his tone cold. “Find someone decent and settle down.” Colton chuckled drunkenly. “Like Sierra? She’s perfect—kind, sexy, everything. You’re one lucky guy. “But now that Wren’s back, when will you come clean to Sierra?” There was a long pause before Logan finally said, “Not yet. Wren hasn’t given me the green light.” Colton snickered. “Then pass Sierra my way after you break up. I’ve had my eye on her for ages.” Something in Logan snapped. The sound of a punch echoed through the room. Colton didn’t seem to mind, laughing as he rubbed his jaw. “Don’t play the saint now. Wasn’t it you bragging about how wild she is in bed? And now you’re acting all protective?” Outside the door, my blood ran cold. I never imagined Logan, who treated me so tenderly, could casually share the details of our intimacy with his friends. Then I heard Logan’s voice again, low and devoid of emotion: “Do whatever you want. She’s desperate for love. “Say the right words, and she’ll fall for it. She’s game for anything.” The words crushed me. The next day, I walked into Sugarland Creamery, the dessert shop Wren owned. The shop’s bright and elegant décor perfectly matched her style. When Wren saw me, surprise flickered in her eyes, but she quickly replaced it with a professional smile. I took a single bite of ice cream before setting the bowl down. “When did you get back to the States?” Her smile never faltered. “Just a few days ago.” I’d known about Wren for a long time. By the second year of my relationship with Logan, her name had already surfaced. One day, I stumbled upon a stack of boarding passes to Pacific Harbor in his desk drawer. He was flying there nearly every weekend. When I asked, he said she was unwell and needed his care. But when I had a fever and was hospitalized, Logan had dinner with her in Pacific Harbor. When our anniversary came, he left to see her in the middle of the night. We fought over her countless times. Whenever I threatened to leave, Logan would find a way to win me back.

Later, I heard that Wren Keaton had married while abroad, and that was when she and Logan Hart finally cut ties. Now divorced and back in town, it wasn’t surprising that their old flame had reignited. “How are you adjusting to life up north? Have you found a good place to live? “Why don’t you move in with us? It’s so inconvenient out there on your own.” I smiled warmly, peppering Wren with questions about her return. “Is running the dessert shop tiring? Do you need any help?” Wren grew increasingly uncomfortable, her eyes darting to Logan for rescue. Finally, he couldn’t take it anymore and interjected, “There’s no need for that. She’s fine where she is.” Before leaving, I bought a serving of ice cream, smiled politely at Wren, and said goodbye. Logan was quiet on the drive home, his expression dark with barely contained anger. Once we were in the car, he couldn’t hold back any longer. He grabbed me, pushing me back into the seat. “What were you doing back there? Trying to humiliate me?” “What are you hiding that you’re so scared of me seeing?” Logan’s hand clamped onto my jaw as he leaned in, his anger simmering under the surface. “Sierra, will you stop making a scene?” I had no intention of playing along anymore. Pulling the screenshots from his secret account, I shoved them in his face. “This is what you call late-night work? Exactly what kind of work needs a bed, Logan?” My voice was ice cold as I threw his words back at him. “You’re the one who’s desperate for love. “She whispers a few sweet words, and you let her do whatever she wants with you. “Logan, you’re pathetic.” “Let’s break up. I never want to see you or your side piece again.” Logan stiffened but quickly masked his reaction, trying to stay composed. “That night was a mistake. We only kissed—I never slept with her.” I let out a sharp, bitter laugh. “Well, that’s too bad. I still think you’re disgusting. I don’t want to risk catching something.” Logan finally snapped, picking up an ashtray and hurling it against the wall, where it shattered into pieces. “Sierra, do you have to be this cruel?” Blood trickled down his hand from the shattered glass, but he didn’t seem to care. “Was it Colton who told you?” “Why does it matter who told me?” “It has to be him. There’s no one else.” Logan let out a cold laugh, his hand tightening into a fist. “Yesterday, he was joking about sleeping with you, and today you show up here? I’m going to deal with him.” My anger flared. “Who cares who told me? The evidence is right here—you cheated on me!” I thrust his phone into his face, the records from his secret account scrolling past. “If you like her so much, at least have the guts to admit it. All this sneaking around just makes you look pathetic.” Logan couldn’t hold back his anger any longer. He slammed his fist into the table, yelling, “Nothing happened with Wren! Stop making baseless accusations!” I stared at him, unmoved. It was clear he’d rather die than admit the truth. After a long silence, Logan’s expression softened as he spoke evenly. “You’re just looking for an excuse to leave me for Colton, right?” Logan packed his bags with practiced efficiency and walked out of my apartment. “When you regret this, don’t come crawling back.” He gave me a lingering look, his lips curving into a smirk. “No one else will make you feel the way I do.” When Marlow found out about our breakup, she was incredulous. She’d come to comfort me but froze when she saw my calmness. “Your relationship was like a TV drama. I can’t believe it ended like this.” I thought about it for a moment before replying, “A drama? Then I guess I was the lead actress?” “Obviously,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Logan was the male lead. Five years—that’s enough for a hundred episodes.” I laughed. “The man I choose is the male lead. A cheating jerk like Logan? Not even close.” A week after our breakup, Wren Keaton became the target of online harassment. Photos of her and Logan being intimate had gone viral. The internet quickly uncovered her background, and soon, the hashtags about her being a “homewrecker” were trending. Wren cornered me, tears streaming down her face. “Why would you do this to me?” I shoved her hands off me in disgust. Wren stumbled back and fell to the ground, scraping her hand. “Sierra!” Logan stormed in, his face contorted with rage. He barked at me like it was an order. “Get online and clear her name. Now!” “It has nothing to do with me,” I replied, indifferent. “Don’t lie. When did you become so vindictive?” Logan pulled Wren into his arms, shielding her like a fragile creature. “If you hate me, take it out on me! Why go after her? She’s just a young woman who’s done nothing to you.” I took a step closer and slapped him hard across the face. “The photos are all over the internet, and you’re still pretending to be innocent?” Wren quickly jumped in, pulling at Logan with a sentimental tone. “She’s just too hurt. Don’t be mad at her, okay?” I turned and slapped her to the ground. “Oh, I almost forgot about you, you little homewrecker.” Wren shrieked and lunged at me, clawing wildly. “My parents have never hit me. Who do you think you are?” I wasn’t interested in wasting energy on these two lunatics. I called security. “There are two people causing trouble here. Get them out.” Later that night, Logan showed up at my door.

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When my family’s house was sold for redevelopment, we received a windfall of $1.2 million. I planned to use the opportunity to take my parents on a road trip, but my girlfriend stopped me. “I need $300,000 for a wedding settlement, $600,000 for a house for my brother, and $50,000 for a new car for my parents,” she demanded. “Whatever’s left, we’ll split it after the wedding.” I laughed, packed up, and took my parents on that road trip anyway. Along the way, I found a girlfriend with actual values. Content When our old family home in Hickory Ridge, North Carolina, was sold, we didn’t just receive a couple of new properties in exchange—we also got a windfall of $1.2 million. My parents, ever practical, decided to transfer half of the money—$600,000—into my account. “You’re working now, Colton,” Mom said calmly. It’s time for you to learn how to manage money. Don’t waste it on anything stupid like gambling or drugs; the rest is up to you.” I practically jumped for joy, hugging my mom and peppering her with kisses. “You guys are the best parents ever! Don’t worry, I’ll use it wisely. No reckless spending, I promise!” With newfound excitement, I called my girlfriend, Amber Winslow, and treated her to dinner and a movie. On a whim, I even bought her that high-end designer bag she’d been eyeing for months. Amber’s eyes sparkled with delight. “What’s the occasion? It’s not my birthday, and it’s not a holiday. Why are you suddenly showering me with such an expensive gift?” Unable to contain myself, I showed her the bank notification of the transfer. “My parents gave me a huge chunk of money from selling our old house. I’ve officially upgraded from middle-class Colton to the future heir of the Hayes estate!” Amber took my phone and stared at the zeros in my account, counting them repeatedly, her face frozen in shock. Although my family has always been financially stable, I never had this money. It was overwhelming but in a good way. I was too wrapped up in the joy to notice Amber’s expression subtly shift. “I’m thinking of buying a luxury RV,” I said, grinning. “I’d love to take my parents on a road trip across the country. They’ve worked hard all their lives; it’s time to treat them to some well-deserved relaxation.” Amber’s cheerful mood seemed to falter. “An RV? A road trip? That must cost a fortune.” “Not really,” I replied after thinking for a moment. “A decent one will probably set me back about $80,000.” “Eighty thousand dollars?!” she exclaimed, her voice rising in disbelief. Her reaction puzzled me. Sensing my confusion, Amber forced a smile. “Babe, maybe skip the RV. Your parents could join a local tour group for a few days instead. Why spend so much?” She linked her arm with mine, her tone turning sweet. “Think about it. An RV is so expensive, and it’s not like you’ll use it year-round. Most of the time, it’ll just sit in the driveway collecting dust. Wouldn’t it make more sense to give me that money instead?” Her reasoning started to put me on edge, but I calmed myself down, assuming she was worried about wedding expenses. “Amber,” I said, “my parents already set aside money for our house and the wedding long ago. This windfall has nothing to do with those plans.” Amber huffed, crossing her arms. “It’s not just about me. My brother Lance is getting engaged soon, and his fiancée is demanding a $140,000 engagement settlement plus a house in Washington, D.C.’s top school district.” “You know my family can’t afford that, but with this money, you could help. Just $200,000 for the settlement and the house, another $50,000 for a car for my parents, and you can let me manage the rest. I’ll be handling our finances after the wedding anyway.” Amber added in a muttered tone, “And my parents have never been on vacation either. How about you take them along, too?” Her words carried an unspoken assumption—that the money was hers to claim. I stared at Amber’s expectant face and remained silent. I wasn’t the type to judge someone based on material needs. I wouldn’t have stayed with Amber all these years if I had. We’d been together since high school. Back then, she was the smart girl in our class, and our teacher assigned us seats together so she could help me with my grades. Her patience and gentle smile had left a lasting impression. Amber’s family wasn’t well-off—I knew that. I’d even paid her college tuition and living expenses for four years because her parents couldn’t afford it. Without my help, she likely would’ve been forced into an early marriage with some middle-aged bachelor in exchange for a meager settlement to support her brother, Lance. I even accompanied her to legally change her name from “Sherry Winslow” to something less old-fashioned. Over the years, I never let her spend a dime when we were together. Every date, every outing—it was always on me. And while I indulged her, she grew accustomed to being pampered. When Amber graduated, I persuaded my parents to help her get a job she’d never qualified for. But now, looking back at it all, I wondered if I’d gone too far. Gently withdrawing my arm from hers, I said in an amused tone, “Amber, your brother getting married isn’t my responsibility. Why should I buy him a house?” Her expression darkened. “Colton, are you stupid? My brother will be your brother once we’re married. I’ll quit my job, stay home, cook for you, clean for you, give you a big family, and spend the rest of my life paying you back. How’s that for a deal?” What a calculation. I’d give her family everything, and she’d repay me with her “loyalty.” When I didn’t respond, her patience snapped. Her voice softened again as if coaxing me. “Babe, if you love me, you’ll love my family too. I’ll always be a good wife and mother; when my family’s doing well, it reflects well on me. Isn’t that important?” Her demands were absurd. I didn’t care what she said. “I’m not giving you the money,” I stated firmly. Amber exploded. “Colton Hayes, don’t push me! Are you seriously refusing to buy my brother a house? After everything I’ve done for you, my years with you mean nothing? Now that you’ve got money, you’re just dumping me?” The argument escalated in the middle of the mall, drawing stares from passersby. I hated causing a scene. I tried to lead her somewhere private to talk, but she yanked her arm away and angrily threw her new designer bag on the floor. Picking it up, I said, “If you don’t want it, I’ll give it to my mom. She’ll appreciate it more.” Without a backward glance, I walked away. Amber’s shouts followed me, accusing me of ingratitude. “You’ll regret this, Colton! After everything I sacrificed for you, you owe me!” But I didn’t look back.

Back home, I collapsed onto the couch, staring blankly at the ceiling. The thrill of newfound wealth had evaporated entirely. I reflected on my years with Amber. When it wasn’t about her family, she was the perfect girlfriend—kind, attentive, and warm. She was everything I’d ever wanted. But her obsession with her parents and brother, her greed, and her entitlement—it was too much. Later that night, she texted me, asking if I was still angry. Seeing her familiar profile picture, I hesitated. For a moment, it felt like the Amber I loved was back. After typing and deleting several replies, I finally settled on two words: “Not angry.” Amber sent a picture of a dish she’d just learned to cook. “Practice makes perfect. I’ll make it for you soon,” she wrote cheerfully, as though our earlier argument hadn’t happened. Maybe she’d realized her mistake. I decided to test her. I sent her photos of two luxury RVs. “Which one do you think I should buy?” I asked. Minutes later, Amber replied with a string of ellipses. I followed up, “I’m leaning toward the first one. It’s spacious, fuel-efficient, and stylish. Perfect for road trips.” Barely two seconds after I sent the text, my phone rang. As soon as I picked up, Amber’s furious voice erupted. “Are you deaf? Didn’t I tell you not to waste money on an RV? Your parents don’t deserve it! And how dare you make decisions without consulting me? That money is ours for our future, and you’re being selfish!” I didn’t let her finish. “Let me remind you, Amber, we’re not married yet. That money isn’t ‘ours.’ It’s mine. And I don’t owe your family anything. If they want a house or a car, they can buy it themselves.” Amber hung up on me mid-sentence. When I tried calling back, I realized she’d blocked me. She always did this after arguments—blocking me on everything until I showed up with gifts and apologies. This time, I decided to let it be.

Early in the morning, I brush my teeth, prepare, and sit at the table for breakfast. I couldn’t help but notice something was off with Mom. She kept her head down, barely looked at me, and said nothing. Her demeanor felt unusually downcast. “Mom, what’s wrong? Your eyes are red. Did Dad do something to upset you?” I asked, concerned. Forcing a smile, she quickly wiped her eyes. “No, sweetie. It’s nothing. I just got a little something in my eye while cooking.” I glanced at the table. Breakfast was takeout from a diner—scrambled eggs, hash browns, and sausage biscuits—and there was no sign of cooking anywhere. I shifted my gaze to Dad, who sighed and handed me Mom’s phone. “Take a look,” he said quietly. It was a text from Amber Winslow sent late last night. The message was blunt, almost hostile: She demanded that I use the family money on her family—her brother, her parents, and their needs—or else she wouldn’t “respect” my parents after marriage. The words stung with entitlement and disdain. My parents had never approved of Amber. They warned me about her initially, but because they loved me and respected my choices, they eventually stopped voicing their concerns. Over the years, Amber never visited them or even sent a holiday card. And now, this was the first time she’d reached out—just to make such an offensive demand. Mom spoke softly, “Colton, as long as you’re happy, your dad and I don’t mind. You decide to make.” I stared at my parents. Their once-dark hair now had streaks of gray, and the lines on their faces seemed more profound than I remembered. We’d always been a tight-knit family, yet here we were, fractured by Amber’s selfishness. My parents had sacrificed so much to make my life easier. How could I let them suffer the indignity of being mistreated by her and her family? Amber’s audacity before marriage was already unbearable. If we tied the knot, her family would surely drain us dry. “Delete the message,” I told my mom. “Block her number. You don’t need to deal with this nonsense.” Mom hesitated for a moment but nodded. She trusted me to handle it. A few days later, Amber finally cracked. Unblocking me, she said, “Have you realized your mistake these past few days?”

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After days of silence, Landon Drake suddenly invited me to our Hidden Creek Hideout on our ninth anniversary. When I arrived, rose petals fluttered like snow, and 999 heartfelt letters descended from above. Overwhelmed with joy, I opened one of the letters, only to see the words: “To my dearest love, Talia.” Before I could ask Landon what was going on, I saw Talia Monroe’s Instagram Story: “When the right person loves you, you shine bright! P.S.: Sorry, old lady, for stealing your surprise, but my darling’s love is untouchable!” Is the picture attached? A deed for a house—my wedding house. Stunned, I barely registered Landon storming in, only to launch into a tirade. “She’s just a kid who wanted some romance! Do you have to be so jealous?” Calmly, I tossed the letters and the house keys into his hands. “Well then, congratulations on your wedding. Enjoy.” Content Landon’s grip faltered, and the letters and keys clattered. The sound of the fake keys hitting the ground felt like a dagger to my chest. Fake. Even the keys were fake. A flicker of guilt crossed his face, but it quickly morphed into righteous indignation. “Maisie, how old are you? And you’re still fighting over stuff meant for a kid? You’ve let me down.” A kid? If I remember correctly, Talia Monroe is two years older than me. It turns out that when loved enough, someone can be pampered like children, no matter their age. I found it laughable and didn’t bother responding. Turning on my heel, I walked away. As I left, memories of the past nine years flooded my mind. We have met in college and have been together since. There have been no dramatic highs or soul-crushing lows, just steady, quiet happiness. Friends often told me to hold on tight to Landon. “He might be a bit old-fashioned, but he’s a good man—faithful and thoughtful in the little things.” And I believed it. His lack of romantic gestures was just part of his personality. Now I realize it wasn’t a matter of personality. I simply wasn’t worth the effort. I called and canceled everything for the wedding. Afterward, I went to Brewer’s Haven Café. I ordered a coffee and a slice of cake. The sweet cream melted on my tongue, a taste I hadn’t indulged in for years. It made my chest ache, and tears rolled down my face uncontrollably. This was my favorite cake. I stopped eating it because Landon said I was getting fat, like a pig. I’ve shortchanged myself so much for so long. I’d barely taken a second bite when Landon called. “Did you just use my Couples Pay account?” I froze, checked my phone, and realized I had accidentally used $58 from his account while paying. I remembered begging him to set up that account with me. The limit was only $100, but I had clung to it, desperate for proof of his love. “Sorry,” I said softly, transferring the money back immediately before unlinking myself from the account. There was a pause. “It’s not about the money,” he said finally. “I’m just trying to teach you to be more independent. Women who rely on men aren’t attractive.” I said nothing. Sensing the awkwardness, he switched topics. “The hotel just called. Did you cancel the wedding banquet?” “Yes.” I took another bite of cake. “Good call,” he said, a rare note of approval in his voice. “Life’s about sincerity, not these meaningless formalities. I’m glad you’re starting to understand.” His shamelessness no longer surprised me. Before I could respond, a message from Talia Monroe popped up on my phone. Landon had taken her for a bridal photo shoot to make up for the surprise he’d promised her. The attached picture showed them holding hands, laughing blissfully. It’s amazing how he found the time to scold me about $58 while doting on her. I let out a bitter laugh. “Landon Drake,” I said aloud, “I thought you’d gotten the message. But since you didn’t, let me clarify. We’re done. Do you understand now?”

I hung up before he could respond. Sipping my coffee, I allowed myself to enjoy a rare moment of peace. I’d expected heartbreak, but what I felt instead was calm—a quiet acceptance of the end of our nine years together. Letting go, for the first time, felt liberating. The phone wouldn’t stop ringing. Landon. His parents. My dad. My stepmother. I silenced everything, turned off my phone, and enjoyed the silence for the first time in years. That night, I returned home, only for Landon to arrive shortly after. He held a takeout box with half-eaten steak inside. “I brought you some steak,” he announced, placing it on the table. It was leftover from Talia Monroe. I’d seen her Instagram Story: A luxury restaurant where a meal costs at least ten grand. She’d written: “Couldn’t finish it, so might as well feed the stray dogs!” And I was the stray dog. The cold, greasy meat made my stomach churn. The stench of leftover sauce hit my nose, and I couldn’t hold it in—I ran to the sink and retched. “Take it away!” Landon frowned. Only when he saw me vomiting did he finally remove it. “You’re so dramatic.” “Maisie, money doesn’t grow on trees. You’ll need to learn to be frugal when we’re married, right?” I rinsed my mouth and wiped my face. “Be frugal? So you and Talia can enjoy the savings?” His face darkened. Sensing the change, he hesitated before pulling a gift box from behind his back and tossing it toward me. The unsealed box tumbled open, revealing a white lace veil. It was stained. “Talia has great taste. She picked this for you. Consider it my gift—no need for you to pay me back.” He stepped forward, intending to place it on my head, but I stepped back, eyes burning. Landon Drake had never once treated me like a person. “Keep it,” I said, my voice steady. “You’ll need it.” Turning, I headed to the bedroom to pack my things. Before I could close the door, he grabbed my arm with bruising force. I cried out as blood seeped from an old wound on my arm—a knife wound from two weeks ago when I’d shielded him in a fight. The pain was sharp, but his words had cut deeper that day. “Talia was scared,” he had said. “Go to the hospital yourself. I’ll cover half the bill.” Tonight, his eyes showed a fleeting trace of guilt before his phone buzzed, and he hurriedly left the room. Minutes later, Talia’s message lit up my phone: “Can’t sleep. My darling came to tuck me in.” I replied coldly: “Take him. A bitch and her dog—may you last forever.”

After finishing packing, I called Cassidy Bloom. “Maisie, happy birthday! Did you get the gift I sent you?” Cassidy’s cheerful voice bubbled through the phone. Hearing her, my nose stung, and moments later, tears streamed down my face. It was my birthday. Even I had almost forgotten. “What’s wrong, Maisie?” Cassidy’s tone grew concerned, picking up on my sniffles. “I’m just touched. Thank you, Cassidy,” I replied softly. “I want to come to you as soon as I can. Can we finalize the paperwork quickly? Everything else is already sorted, and I don’t need to be there for the rest.” Cassidy’s company had been shifting its operations abroad. Half a month ago, I’d agreed to work overseas with her. I had planned to tell Landon, but after getting hurt, I couldn’t bring myself to reach out to him. Even this morning, at Hidden Creek Hideout, I hesitated. Maybe I shouldn’t go. Perhaps he does love me. Looking back, I realize I was deluding myself. Cassidy paused on the other end of the line but didn’t press me. “I’ll get everything ready,” she said decisively. After hanging up, I hired movers to clear out everything I had decorated in the house. It was laughable. Landon had always insisted on splitting everything equally, yet he constantly implied I was freeloading. The truth? I had paid for most of it. I worked late into the night, finishing just after 2 a.m. As the movers left, Cassidy called to confirm my flight. Three days. Standing in the now-empty room, I exhaled deeply, feeling an unexpected weight lift. Then my phone buzzed. Landon. “Talia’s stomach is upset. That soup you make is great for that—could you cook some and bring it over?” “Don’t overthink it. I just saw her as a kid. Spend more time with her—you’ll see. Wouldn’t having a kid as pretty as her someday be great?” “I wouldn’t mind if you had one with her,” I said flatly. There was a long silence on the other end. Landon seemed at a loss for words, perhaps even preparing to yell at me, but restrained himself, likely thinking of Talia. “Don’t be like this, Maisie. If I did have one with her, you’d probably cry your eyes out,” he said with a sigh. “I just want you to be kinder.” I ended the call without another word, knowing he fully expected me to attend. But I didn’t. Instead, I slept soundly for the first time in weeks. The following day, I drove to Silverstone, Indiana—back to my hometown. I bought my mom’s favorite bouquet of lilies and placed them at her grave. “Mom,” I whispered, gently tracing her photo. I hadn’t planned to cry, but the moment I saw her face, the tears came unbidden. “I might not be coming back. Maybe not ever.” My voice cracked. “Forgive me, Mom.” The words had barely left my lips when a sharp pain jolted through my scalp. I was yanked backward and slammed to the ground. It was Laura Braxton. SLAP. She struck me hard across the face. “Don’t mess with me! I’ve already taken Landon’s dowry. If it gets taken back, I’ll kill you!” Clutching my stinging cheek, I stood and grabbed a handful of her hair in return. Before I could retaliate further, Frank Bellamy stormed over and slapped me across the face again. “You ungrateful little brat!” he roared. “Listen to your mother—she only wants what’s best for you.” I stared at their twisted faces, and in a haze, I saw Landon standing in the distance. He was watching, smirking at my misery. I heard his voice, calm and cruel. “Maisie Bellamy, no one else will ever want you.”

I fixed my gaze on Landon, my mind swirling with disbelief. “What’s with that look?” he snapped. “Maisie, you’re almost thirty and still act so immature.” “Do you know what your stepmother said to me?” he continued. “She said if you don’t marry me, she’ll marry you off to Kendrick. Do you remember when he forced himself on you while your dad just stood there? That desperation you felt?” “Maisie, don’t forget—it wasn’t me begging to marry you. It was you chasing after me.” He smirked, his eyes glinting with mockery. His words cut deep, but I couldn’t help but laugh bitterly. I had once called him my knight in shining armor. Someone who had swooped in, dazzling and brave, to rescue me from the darkness. But that same knight had returned, not to save me, but to join my tormentors. The irony was almost too much. But Landon seemed to have forgotten one thing. Before I met him, I had been perfectly capable of defending myself—fighting back against those who tried to hurt me. Right then, his phone rang, and Talia Monroe’s voice came through, high-pitched and demanding. “Baby, you promised to bring her here to apologize. Everyone’s waiting! Don’t disappoint me, or I’ll be mad at you!” Landon lowered his voice, soothing her before hanging up and turning to me. “She’s sensitive about appearances,” he explained. “You upset her stomach yesterday. All I’m asking is for you to apologize and smooth things over. Don’t make this harder than it has to be.” So this wasn’t even about me. It was about salvaging her pride. I’d always known my place in his life, but after nine years, the pain still hit with surprising force. He dragged me to the car before I could protest and drove me to the restaurant. All eyes turned to me inside the private suite, their gazes filled with amusement. “Well, it looks like Maisie decided to skip makeup today. Did she slap herself for some color?” Talia sneered, sending the room into laughter. Landon’s grip on my arm tightened, but I didn’t fight it. I let him lead me to a seat on the sofa. I glanced at Talia, my tone calm and detached. “I’m 28. You’re 30, aren’t you? Talia, the crow’s feet are already showing. Stop pretending to be younger than you are—you’re fooling no one.” Her face blanched, and tears welled in her eyes. She turned to Landon, clutching his arm dramatically. “See? This is what you call an apology? She’s doing this on purpose to humiliate me!” “Maisie, apologize!” Landon barked, his tone icy. I stayed silent. Sighing, he turned to Talia with exaggerated gentleness. “Baby, don’t cry. It’s my fault, okay? Punish me however you like.” “Really?” she sniffled, a sly smile creeping onto her lips. “You said Maisie’s hair always clogs the floor and drives you crazy. Why not shave it off for her?”

When Kendrick Braxton tried to force himself on me, I made a massive scene. Laura Braxton’s carefully curated image as the “sweet, caring stepmom” crumbled in front of everyone. Furious, she accused me of seducing her son. She then had my father tie me up like an animal and shave my hair off with scissors. She even scraped off my eyebrows. If my screams hadn’t drawn the neighbors’ attention, she might have gone through with her threat to carve words into my face. From then on, every strand of hair that fell to the floor earned me another beating. I spent years with a cropped head, my humiliation on full display. People looked down on me. Ridiculed me. When I shared this with Landon Drake, I had hoped for sympathy, but he turned my suffering into a joke for Talia Monroe’s amusement. Nine years. I thought he might hesitate. But he immediately called for scissors when he realized shaving my head would make Talia happy. Instinctively, I moved toward the door, but his friends blocked my path. “What are you doing?” I demanded. “Maisie, you upset the little princess. You deserve to be punished.” Landon walked toward me, calm and unbothered. “It’s just hair. It’ll grow back. But making her smile? That’s priceless.” At his signal, his friends pinned me down. I thrashed and struggled as Talia gleefully approached, her eyes glinting triumphantly. My anger boiled over, and as I flailed, my nail accidentally grazed her arm. It didn’t even leave a mark. But that tiny scratch was enough to send Landon into a rage. He stormed over and kicked me in the stomach so hard I flew into the door. Pain erupted through my abdomen, a sharp, unbearable cramp spreading. I felt something warm and wet pooling beneath me. At that moment, I knew. Grabbing Landon’s arm, I begged him through tears, “Please, save our baby.” But he didn’t care. He stayed focused on Talia, holding her hand while cutting my hair. The blades scraped against my scalp, the pain excruciating. Warm blood trickled down my face, mixing with my tears. A gasp broke through the laughter. “Blood! She’s bleeding!” Landon didn’t even glance back. “It’s just a scratch. Patch it up later.” “No, Landon—look at the floor! There’s so much blood!” His tone faltered as he finally turned around. The sight of the blood pooling beneath me made him freeze. “Maisie…” I lifted my tear-streaked face to look at him, blood and sorrow blurring my vision. “Congratulations, Landon Drake.” “You’ve just killed your child.”

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