Author: Momo Chan

As the real daughter of the Sterling family, I was brought back home and joined a reality dating show with my fake sister. Faced with insults from the backstabbing Mia Harper, the tantrums of a self-absorbed male idol, and the show director’s manipulative antics, I smirked and said, “Breast implants, a visit to Greenfield Wellness Clinic, and a million-dollar RV for your mistress? Ring any bells?” The group froze, clutching their chests, reeling with shock as they scrambled to figure out who had betrayed their secrets. I only smiled enigmatically. What can I say? My strange ability to see people’s purchase histories has its perks. Content My biological parents found me when I was hauling bricks at Steelworks Warehouse. Years ago, Victoria Sterling gave birth to me at a small-town hospital, but due to a nurse’s negligence, I was switched at birth. But now, they’d found me. Ah, the Sterling family—a true embodiment of wealth. Sterling Manor looked straight out of a novel, with its fountains and sprawling lawns. The moment I sat in the luxurious living room, a severe-looking woman stormed in. “This sofa was shipped from Europe last week! Miss Claire adores it! Who let this stray into dirtying the fabric? Get up immediately!” She yanked my arm so hard I stumbled to my feet. Before I could steady myself, another woman with an elegant aura rushed in. Her eyes turned red when she saw me, and she embraced me. “My child! You’ve suffered all these years!” I rubbed my nose awkwardly. “Not that much…” Moments later, the doors burst again, admitting a stern middle-aged man and a delicate girl who looked like a gentle lily. The three of them stared at me nervously. Victoria pulled Eva forward and hesitated. “What if we kept Evangeline here to keep you company? So you wouldn’t feel lonely…” Of course, they wanted to keep Eva. It wasn’t a surprise. One was the fake daughter they’d raised for years; the other was me, the real daughter they barely knew. I didn’t care much, so I replied breezily, “Sure. Dad, Mom, Sis.” Their faces lit up with joy. Eva beamed and stood behind me, pleased to be my new shadow. “By the way, who’s this?” My gaze fell on the severe woman from earlier. Her haughty demeanor melted into an overly sweet smile. “Miss Sterling, I’m the housekeeper. Mrs. Zhao…” “Housekeeper?” I looped my arm around Victoria’s. “Mom, the housekeeper wouldn’t happen to be the one selling eight-figure jewelry, would she?” Mrs. Zhao’s face twitched. “Mom, I ran into her at a consignment shop recently. She was selling a diamond necklace there.” Victoria froze and glanced at Mrs. Zhao with suspicion. Mrs. Zhao’s expression turned panicked as she began sweating profusely. “Miss Sterling, I… I’ve never been to any consignment shop!” Maybe her selling items at consignment stores was a lie, but stealing Sterling’s family jewelry and selling it? That was undoubtedly true. Ever since I woke up, I’ve had a strange ability: I can see the details of everyone’s purchase history. Mrs. Zhao has been stealing from my mother for years! “Fine. To prove I’m not slandering you, Mom, have someone check your jewelry collection.” I described the necklace in question. Mrs. Zhao paled. “Why would you investigate me? I didn’t steal anything!” A guilty confession. Victoria immediately ordered someone to inspect the jewelry. Mrs. Zhao collapsed to the floor, trembling. Eva shuffled closer to me and tugged on my sleeve. “Sister, you’re… amazing!” Her face was glowing with admiration. Me:? That’s all it took to win her over? Her soft, innocent demeanor… no wonder she was written as the pitiful supporting character who could never escape the protagonist’s oppression.

Yes, I, the honest Naomi Sterling, and Eva, the fake Evangeline Claire, are not even the main characters in this world. The true protagonist is Mia Harper, a rising star who clawed her way up the entertainment industry by destroying Eva’s reputation. Mia’s career began with her branding as a “Mini Eva,” using Eva’s long-established popularity while secretly undermining her. They both signed onto Love Among the Stars, a reality dating show. During filming, a scandal broke out, accusing Eva of assaulting a pregnant woman. Her reputation tanked overnight. Meanwhile, Mia was hailed as a kind-hearted beauty, her fame skyrocketing in contrast to Eva’s downfall. Sure, if the story were told from Mia’s perspective, it’d be entertaining. But in this world, I’m Naomi, Eva’s big sister. And I know exactly what Mia is up to. That “pregnant woman”? A fake hired to ruin Eva. Even if Eva is only my “convenient” sister, she’s still a Sterling. I won’t let anyone bully her. Eva is sweet and pretty, going out of her way to subtly please me. Honestly, with her lovely face that fits perfectly into my aesthetic preferences, I can’t stand seeing her reputation torn apart. So, when Alexander Sterling asked me if I wanted to take over Sterling Enterprises, I eyed Eva holding the Love Among the Stars invitation and said I wanted to join the show with her. Eva’s eyes lit up. “Dad, please!” She turned on her pleading charm. “If I join the show with Sister, you’ll feel much more at ease, right?” I privately discussed some of my business ventures with my dad, even sharing my private investment fund. Alexander was thrilled, handed over the company’s future to me, and approved Eva and me joining the show.

The show began with a live stream introduction at Sunset Hill Villa; all participants were present. I discreetly checked my phone, where the live stream chat buzzed with attacks on Eva. “Why the hell did the producers invite someone like Evangeline Claire? She’s so fake and manipulative. She doesn’t belong on this show with our Mia!” “Ugh, she’s here to leech off Mia Harper’s fame. Can she stand on her own for once?” “Exactly! Diva’s behavior and zero charm, yet she dares to show up here? Get off the show!” Mia Harper, ever the star of the narrative, made her entrance and caused a wave of excited reactions. “OMG! My queen Mia is so gorgeous!” “Mia Harper is literal perfection—angelic face, killer body!” “Prprprprprprpr” (Yes, the fans were practically drooling.) The opening introductions went smoothly enough. Everyone was civil—on the surface. Then came the mutual Q&A segment, where Mia wasted no time targeting Eva. Feigning casual concern, she smiled sweetly and asked, “Eva, have you been watching any good TV shows lately? I heard you’ve been taking much time off at home.” Oh, a subtle jab at Eva’s struggles to find work. Classic. Eva’s expression stiffened, and she was about to respond when I placed a hand on her arm to stop her. “Eva? Watching TV? Hardly. She’s been too busy accompanying my mom to Serenity Spa, going on vacations, and attending auctions. Who has time for brainless soap operas?” I quipped with a raised eyebrow. Mia blinked, clearly caught off guard, but quickly recovered. Her smile tightened as she asked, “That’s nice. Did Eva pick up anything interesting at the auction? Maybe she could share with us?” Her eyes sparkled with mischief. “I just hope you didn’t accidentally buy a fake. You know how it is—things, like people, can be fake or real. Only fools can’t tell the difference.” The jab was razor-sharp, with an unmistakable implication.

Mia Harper knew something—perhaps about Eva and me not being faithful Sterlings. But how? My parents hadn’t made any public announcements about Eva’s origins. How did Mia find out? I scrutinized Mia from head to toe. She remained composed, even throwing me a sly, knowing smile. Next to me, Eva clung to my arm, whispering nervously, “Sister, what do we do? Do you think she knows?” I gave her hand a reassuring pat. “Stay calm,” I whispered back. Eva immediately straightened up, puffing out her chest with newfound courage. Her wide, trusting eyes were fixed on me. I turned to Mia with a smile that could cut glass. “Not as much as you, Ms. Harper. Though I must say, the Magne-Tec seems pretty convincing.” “Sometimes what’s fake can look real, you know—depends on how much effort you put into selling it,” I added, pausing deliberately. “Take Eva, for example… or, say, your chest.” For a moment, the live chat fell into stunned silence. “What is she talking about? I feel like she just said something I can’t quite grasp…” “What’s Magne-Tec? Why does Mia look a little pale?” “Cough, cough. If I’m not mistaken, Magne-Tec is… a breast implant brand.” “OMG? Isn’t Mia endorsing some ‘natural enhancement’ cream? So it’s all just technology and a good surgeon?” Mia choked on her water, coughing violently. One of the male idols, Ryan Vega, hurried over to pat her back with excessive eagerness. “Mia, are you okay?” His hands hovered awkwardly near his chest as though he was afraid to touch her. Meanwhile, Daniel Cole, the award-winning actor, looked utterly lost, his confusion painted across his face. Dominic Hayes, the band’s lead singer, raised a brow and shot a knowing glance at Mia’s… enhancements. Still coughing, Mia clutched her chest, her eyes betraying panic and uncertainty. She straightened up and attempted to maintain her composure. “I’m not sure what you’re insinuating, Naomi,” she said, her voice trembling slightly. “It feels like you’re holding a grudge against me.” She blinked back tears dramatically, her voice softening to an almost sad tone. “If I’ve done anything to make you misunderstand me, I deeply apologize. But I hope you won’t accuse me of something baseless. That’s just unfair.” Ah, there it was—the move to redirect public sympathy and unleash her rabid fanbase against me. I chuckled lightly, crossing my arms. “Ms. Harper, didn’t you start discussing fake versus real? Maybe you should explain to your fans whether your Magne-Tec is the real deal.” Mia’s face turned several shades paler as the chat erupted once again.

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I was preparing to take my girlfriend to Alaska to see the Northern Lights when I found photos of her lying naked with her male best friend in my drawer. Along with the photos were a bunch of lab reports checking male fertility. The date on the reports was the same day I had my stomach cancer surgery. So when she said she was busy, she was actually busy testing her male best friend’s fertility. When I confronted her about it, she lashed out at me impatiently. “We were just lying together, nothing happened.” “This was purely medical treatment. Can’t you stop being so dirty-minded?” Looking at the explicit video that came through on my phone, my heart sank into dead silence. After a long pause, I called my parents. “Mom, Dad, I agree to come back and inherit the family business.” After I hung up the phone, there was a violent knocking at the door. The door shook with the urgent, grating knocks. Whoever was outside was clearly furious. “Nash, open the door!” It was my girlfriend Nadia’s voice. In the past, I would have rushed to open the door for her, helped her change into slippers, and welcomed her home. I always felt bad about how hard she worked managing the company and wanted to do whatever I could to take care of her and ease her worries. But today, I just sat there, my expression blank. Seeing no one was opening the door, Nadia had someone break it down. The first thing she did when she came in was rush to my side and slap me hard across the face. “Why did you attack Kieran?” “You know his health is poor. Why would you hurt him?” Looking at Nadia’s near-crazed expression, my heart clenched painfully. Today I had bought plane tickets, planning to come home and pack our bags to take her to see the Northern Lights in Alaska. I wanted to surprise her. Instead, I found those “treatment” photos of her and Kieran in the drawer. When I went to confront Kieran, I was beaten up by him and his friends. Now somehow I was the one who had attacked him. “Say something. Cat got your tongue?” Nadia’s pupils were bloodshot, her eyes looking like they wanted to kill me. “You dare to do it but not admit it? Some man you are.” I lowered my head with a self-mocking smile, no longer having the energy to argue with her. I just tossed the photos at her feet. “What is this?” When she saw the photos, a flash of guilt crossed Nadia’s eyes. Her hands involuntarily clenched, and she spoke with less confidence. “It’s not what you think.” “Kieran was diagnosed with fertility issues and might not be able to have children. I was just helping the doctor treat him.” What kind of medical treatment requires lying naked in bed with a woman? Such a ridiculous excuse, yet she believed it. I just found it laughable. But Nadia kept talking, becoming more convinced she was right. “That’s right, this was purely medical treatment. Kieran and I are completely innocent, heaven knows.” “How can your mind be so dirty? You really disgust me.” I looked at her, shocked and grieved. What was I still hoping for? I should have understood long ago, when she kept abandoning me for Kieran time after time, shouldn’t I? Nadia and I were college classmates. We went from campus sweethearts to where we are now, the model couple in everyone’s eyes. For her sake, I fought with my parents and stayed in this city. When she wanted to start a company, I emptied my pockets and worked hard with her to build the business from scratch. When she saw me vomiting uncontrollably after drinking too much at business dinners, she would hold me preciously, tears welling up in her eyes out of distress. “Nash, you’ve worked so hard. When we make it big, I’ll never let you push yourself like this again,” she would gently comfort me, wiping the sweat from my brow. “Then we’ll get married, have the wedding at the best hotel, the most luxurious ceremony.” “I’ll make everyone envy you.” Those words still rang in my ears, but the person before me was no longer the same. When she looked at me now, there was only disgust in her eyes. “I’ve already explained everything clearly. Stop being difficult,” Nadia said impatiently, reaching out to pull me. “No matter what, you were wrong to hit someone. Come with me now to apologize to Kieran.” Before I could break free, her phone rang. After answering, her expression instantly changed. She shot me a vicious glare. “Kieran is still coughing up blood from your beating. You’d better pray he’s okay, or I won’t let you off easy!” After Nadia left, I stared at the door that could no longer be closed and thought for an entire night. As dawn approached, I finally went inside to pack my bags. Something already broken can never be restored to its original state, no matter how much you try to fix it. I had always thought about what I could do to keep her, but I forgot that someone who doesn’t love you won’t stay no matter what. Taking one last look at the room I had lived in for years, no matter how reluctant and nostalgic I felt, I had to let go. It no longer belonged to me. Voices of laughter came from outside. When I opened the bedroom door, I was stunned by the scene before me. Nadia was helping Kieran sit down, her face full of concern and distress. But the moment she looked up and saw me, her expression instantly turned cold. “You slept well, didn’t you?” “Kieran couldn’t sleep all night because of you. I was so worried I didn’t sleep either. How dare you sleep?” Kieran patted her back soothingly. The atmosphere between them was so intimate, it seemed no third person could intrude. It made me, the real boyfriend, feel like the shameful mistress. My heart trembled with pain, and even my newly operated stomach began to ache faintly. Kieran took Nadia’s hand, smiling magnanimously. “Nadia, don’t blame Nash. He only hit me because he loves you too much.” Before I could say anything, Nadia couldn’t sit still. “You don’t need to speak up for him. I know him too well. He’s just a born bad seed, jealous and selfish, who can’t stand seeing me be good to anyone else.” Nadia completely ignored the pain in my eyes and continued righteously: “Kieran is in this state because of you. I brought him home to help you atone for your sins.” Saying this, her expression turned haughty, speaking as if granting me a favor. “These next few days, you’ll personally take care of Kieran. Once he recovers, I might forgive you.” “If you don’t agree, hmph, we’ll break up.” Her arrogant demeanor suggested she was certain I would give in. In the past, I would have already lowered myself to appease her. Because I loved her and couldn’t bear to see her suffer even a little bit of grievance. But all of my compromises and concessions had become leverage for her to manipulate me in her eyes. “Fine, then let’s break up.” Time seemed to freeze. Nadia’s smug expression instantly cracked, her whole being filled with disbelief. It took her a long time to react, pointing at me with trembling fingers. “What did you say?” Over the years, we had our quarrels and conflicts, but as long as she mentioned breaking up, no matter how angry I was, I would immediately calm down and beg her not to leave me. But today, this usually foolproof tactic wasn’t working. Nadia felt like she was losing control of something. Her eyes trembled fiercely. No longer wanting to argue with her, I picked up my suitcase and strode out. In the room, Nadia stood frozen. When she came to her senses and wanted to chase after me, Kieran stopped her. “You don’t need to go after him. He’ll naturally come back in a few days.” “He’s just doing this on purpose to get your attention. I’m a man too, I understand.” Seeing her still wavering, Kieran immediately put on a pitiful expression. “I’m still feeling unwell. Can you stay and keep me company?” With those words, he successfully kept Nadia from leaving. I went to the company dormitory, planning to go home after resigning. The company I’m currently working at is Nadia’s. All these years, I’ve worked myself to the bone to bring in business and secure investments for the company, striving tirelessly to realize her dreams. I thought that once her career was more established, we could go home together. Then my parents wouldn’t object to us being together anymore. Now it seems there’s no need for that anymore. I called my mother. Before I could speak, tears welled up in my eyes. Mom didn’t ask anything, just sighed. “My dear boy, you’ve suffered out there.” Like a child who had endured too much hardship finally returning to his mother’s embrace, I broke down sobbing. After I calmed down, I said softly, “Mom, I broke up.” She seemed to have guessed it already, her tone very calm. “If you’re tired, just come home. We’ll always be waiting for you.” Dad jumped up angrily when he heard the news, but was calmed down by Mom. “You calm down. I won’t let anyone who dares bully my son off easy.” My mind felt emptied. I hung up the phone, exhausted. After a few days, I went to the company and submitted my resignation. As soon as I submitted the resignation letter, my phone rang. When I answered, Nadia’s agitated voice came through. “Nash, what are you up to now?” “This project is very important for the company. You need to know your limits. Get back here and entertain the clients right away.” I cut off her words. “I’ve resigned. Find someone else to take over these things.” The other end of the line went quiet for a moment before erupting with even more intense emotions. “You really want to do this, huh?” “Fine, there are plenty of people who can do your job. Don’t think you can threaten me like this.” As if to punish me, Nadia immediately approved my resignation application. She thought I wouldn’t last half a day before begging her to take me back. But a whole morning passed, and I showed no signs of giving in. She started to get a bit antsy. She called my coworkers several times to pressure me. I ignored it all and continued doing my own work. It turns out when you stop caring about someone, nothing they do has any effect on you anymore. After lunch, I returned to my desk to find Kieran sitting in my chair, strutting around like he owned the place. My things had been thrown all over the floor. When he saw me, he slowly stood up. “Nash, this was all Nadia’s idea. She said to have me take over your position.” Then he walked over to me and lowered his voice next to my ear: “Who told you to be so stupid and resign? From now on, I’ll be the one enjoying the good life here.” Seeing his smug expression, I suddenly found it quite amusing. I don’t know where he got the confidence to say he could replace me. All these years, I’ve poured my heart and soul into maintaining this troubled company. Yet he thinks my position here was about enjoying the good life. Well then, I wish him success. Seeing his face fall, I forced a detached smile, took the box of belongings an employee had helped gather, thanked them, and strode out. I spent a few days saying goodbye to friends before bending down to pack my bags. From now on, I would be leaving this city for good. This place held my youth from recent years, as well as my first love that ended without closure. Bitterness welled up in my heart. I closed my eyes, forcing myself not to think about it anymore. My phone rang abruptly, Nadia’s furious voice coming through. “Nash, you’ve gone too far. You deliberately sabotaged things with the business partners, causing Kieran to be ostracized.” Before I could explain, she imperiously ordered me, “Get your ass back here right now. This big deal is crucial for the company’s performance in the second half of the year. If we lose it because of you, we’re finished.” Her absurd yet confident words made me feel truly ridiculous. What gave her the right to think I would still care? “Didn’t you say you’d be fine without me? Then go find someone else,” I said. Ignoring her angry tone, I hung up and blocked her number. Once everything was packed up, I opened the door and set off for the airport, about to say a final goodbye to the city I had lived in for so many years. I had barely left when a silver BMW cut me off. The door opened and Nadia rushed over, violently throwing her bag at me. It hit me right where I had just had surgery. My face instantly went pale as I gasped in pain. “Are you done throwing your tantrum?” she yelled furiously, kicking my luggage aside and grabbing my collar to slap me hard across the face. “Is your heart really that small? Just because the project wasn’t given to you, you had to sabotage it?” I was in so much pain I was sweating, but I gritted my teeth and bore it. “The deal falling through was because of Kieran’s own incompetence. It had nothing to do with me.” Nadia scoffed coldly, her eyes full of contempt. “You think I’d believe that?” “You could close the deal, how could Kieran possibly fail?” “I can see you’re just jealous of his abilities.” I laughed bitterly, my eyes bloodshot. “If he’s so capable, why don’t you just go to him? Why come find me?” On one hand she looked down on my abilities, on the other she wanted me to come back and work for her. Was I really that cheap in her eyes? The partnership she thought was so simple was actually the result of me pouring my heart and soul into it, disregarding my health to fight for it desperately. With one casual sentence, she negated all my years of effort, making all my hard work seem worthless. Nadia’s face cycled through shades of red and purple, looking extremely ugly. Seeing I was about to leave, she forcibly dragged me into the car. “No matter what you say today, you have to come with me.” I was already in so much pain I could barely move. I weakly begged her, “My stomach hurts. Can you take me to a pharmacy first?” She laughed mockingly. “Are you addicted to acting now?” “Even if you’re in pain to death today, you still have to go close this deal for me first.” My fingers had gone completely cold. I clutched my stomach with difficulty, looking at her in disbelief. The woman I had loved for so many years could actually say such things. She could actually watch me suffer to death without batting an eye. Fine. How lovely. Hatred surged in my heart. My eyes turned bloodshot as I stared at her fixedly.

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Mom gave us two choices. Go with her to the Brown family, where we could attend the best high school with the young master, but only go to domestic universities. Or stay in our hometown for school, with the option to study abroad after high school graduation. Chloe quickly spoke up. “Mom, I want to go with you to the Brown family.” Mom smiled with satisfaction and turned to look at me. “Your sister should let you go abroad. That way, I’ll have fulfilled my duty as a mother.” Seeing Chloe clinging to Mom with an expectant look, I knew. She had also been reborn. Unfortunately, Vaughn would never fall for her. “Adeline, the employer’s house is busy. Your sister and I are leaving today. Take care of yourself at home, okay?” Mom finished packing and left with Chloe. It wasn’t like last time when she stayed an extra ten days trying to convince Chloe to go with her to the Brown family. In my previous life, after Mom presented the two choices, Chloe had also rushed to choose, but she chose to study abroad. After my parents divorced, I was given to Dad. For ten whole years, Mom never came to see me, but I thought about her every day. It wasn’t until Dad passed away and the police brought me to Mom’s place that I was reunited with her. I was so happy when Chloe chose to study abroad. I could finally be with Mom day and night. But Mom wanted to take Chloe more. She stayed at home for ten days, constantly trying to persuade Chloe to go with her. Chloe firmly believed abroad was better, and even when the employer urged Mom to return, she never changed her mind. So, I went with Mom to the Brown family and met Vaughn. He was handsome, cold, and noble, and excelled in his studies. He was the prince charming in every girl’s heart at school. I couldn’t help but fall for him too. I understood we were worlds apart, so I could only bury that love in my heart. Until after the SAT exam, when Vaughn, drunk after a party, pinned me against the wall. “Adeline, will you study abroad with me?” I turned my face away, trying to control myself. “I don’t have money.” Vaughn smiled, and the whole basement seemed to light up. “I’ll pay for you.” At that moment, I realized. The boy I had secretly loved for three years liked me too. Overwhelmed with happiness, I excitedly told Mom that the young master wanted to take me abroad to study. But what I got was a heavy slap from Mom. “You’re not allowed to go. When you chose to come to the Brown family with me, you gave up the option to study abroad. I’ve been saving that money for Chloe to go abroad.” I held my face and tried to explain. “The young master said I don’t need to pay. He’ll cover my tuition.” Mom sneered, looking at me with disdain. “You’re so shameless, climbing into bed for money. Have you considered your position? Who are you, and who is he? “If someone like the young master is interested in you, once he gets bored of you, I’ll still have to pay. “Don’t even think about going abroad. If you dare disobey, don’t ever call me Mom again. “Also, you’d better stay far away from the young master. Don’t affect my work.” Perhaps because I lacked maternal love since childhood, my greatest fear was losing Mom. I dejectedly rejected Vaughn. But Vaughn solemnly told me. “Distance isn’t a problem. I have money to buy plane tickets.” After starting college, we began a long-distance relationship. He flew back every month to see me. The sweetness of love filled me with hope for the future. When Mom found out we were really dating, she secretly asked Vaughn to take care of Chloe, who was also abroad. Vaughn, unaware of our family situation, naively took care of Chloe as a brother-in-law would. Unexpectedly, one day in my senior year, I received a message from Chloe, along with a photo. In the picture, Chloe was topless, hugging Vaughn’s neck, lying on a hotel bed. [Sis, Vaughn and I are together now. Stop clinging to him.] Having dated Vaughn for three years, I knew he would never betray me. My first thought was that Vaughn had been set up. I angrily called Chloe. But I didn’t notice the truck rushing towards me. After my soul left my body, I heard Mom and Chloe’s conversation. “It’s good that your sister died. Hurry and capture the young master’s heart. You’ll be the future mistress of the Brown family.” Chloe laughed smugly. “Mom, you’re so farsighted. Letting Vaughn take care of me abroad gave me the chance to take that photo when he was drunk. “I originally wanted Adeline to give up voluntarily, but she ended up dying directly. Heaven really is on our side. “After Vaughn gets over his grief, I’ll go and offer myself to him.” I had always thought that even if Mom was biased, she would still see me as her daughter. I never expected that she wouldn’t even be sad about my death. Heartbroken, I floated to find Vaughn. Only to discover that Vaughn had taken his own life in the bathtub, holding my photo. It was then that I realized. Vaughn’s love for me was beyond life itself. I went mad, using all my strength to trip Chloe as she was going downstairs. I watched as Chloe fell to her death on the stairs. Only then did my soul dissipate. Unexpectedly, I returned to the day we chose our destinies. Only this time, Chloe chose to go to the Brown family. She thought that as long as she went to the Brown family, Vaughn would fall for her. Unfortunately, she was wrong. Vaughn would never like her. And I would make them pay for what they did in the previous life.

As soon as Mom and Chloe left, my aunt, using the excuse of renovating the room, asked me to move into the school dorms early. Before, when Mom worked as a housekeeper for the Brown family, she let us stay at my uncle’s house. She would give my aunt a monthly allowance. In my previous life, after Mom and I went to the Brown family, Mom increased the allowance and asked them to take good care of Chloe. Chloe lived well at my uncle’s house. Now it seems Mom had stopped giving my aunt the allowance. I didn’t argue, packed my things, and left. Before school started, I had another place to go. After leaving my aunt’s house, I went to the bank. Every year on my birthday, Dad would save some money for me. Only I knew about that money. I withdrew it and took a long-distance bus. I arrived at a remote cemetery. It was a stormy day. I wrapped myself in a raincoat and hid behind a tree, waiting. As it was getting dark, 16-year-old Vaughn rushed in, braving the rain. Several bodyguards followed behind him. Vaughn was soaked, his narrow eyes cold, but his steps were particularly determined. He walked to a grave and frantically started digging through the grass beside it. “Young master, in this heavy rain, it must have been washed away. Let’s come back when the rain stops.” Vaughn seemed not to hear, continuing until he was exhausted and in despair. I walked out from behind the tree. “Excuse me, are you looking for this?” I pulled out a necklace from my pocket. Vaughn’s eyes lit up, and he quickly walked over. Seeing him soaked, I raised my umbrella higher to shield him from the rain. Vaughn took the necklace with trembling hands, his expression relaxing. “How did you get this?” In my previous life, after Vaughn and I got together, he once said that his greatest regret in life was losing the necklace he made with his mother in the summer when he was sixteen. So, I came to the cemetery. To help him make up for that regret, and to meet him. I shrugged and smiled. “The rain washed it down just now. I picked it up and saw you searching for a while, so I thought it might be yours.” “Thank you. This necklace is very important to me. What reward would you like?” Vaughn said thanks, but still maintained a distant attitude. I shivered and said, “How about you treat me to some instant noodles? I’m cold and hungry.” Vaughn was stunned for a moment, then burst out laughing. “Okay!” Half an hour later, at my insistence, Vaughn and I ate his first cup of instant noodles together. “I never knew instant noodles could be so delicious.” When we were together before, his favorite food was instant noodles. After eating, Vaughn wanted to keep my contact information to thank me. I smiled and refused. “If fate allows, we’ll meet again.” As I turned away, I couldn’t hold back my tears anymore. I wanted so badly to run over and hug him, to tell him everything about the previous life. To tell him how much I missed him, to the point of madness. But that would surely make me seem crazy. I didn’t leave my contact information because I knew all his movements after high school. We would meet again. Vaughn would think it was all fate. Not premeditation.

Finally, school started. The high school curriculum was really simple. I started planning my second meeting with Vaughn. During the National Day holiday, I found a part-time job cleaning at an ice hockey rink. On the third morning, Vaughn came to practice. I secretly watched him from behind. When he was almost done practicing, I spoke softly. “You should twist your wrist a bit when passing the puck.” Vaughn suddenly turned around. I couldn’t see his eyes under his hat. But I could feel his shock. “It’s you! You can see my weakness?” How could I? He told me himself. I played dumb. “I can see a little bit. Do we know each other?” Vaughn took off his hat, his eyes sparkling with joy. I exaggeratedly opened my mouth wide. “Oh, it’s you!” We had lunch together at noon. “You’re underage, how come you’re working here?” “Shh! Don’t let the boss find out. I’m pretending to be an adult.” “Do you really need money that badly?” “My dad died in a car accident. Mom took all the money and left with my sister. How else can I survive if I don’t work?” Vaughn was silent for a moment. “Why don’t you practice ice hockey with me later?” I hesitated. “But I still need to clean…” “Five thousand per hour.” “Alright, sugar daddy!” Vaughn laughed again, almost spitting out his food. After playing hockey in the afternoon, Vaughn invited me to dinner again. I was about to agree when I saw Chloe looking around outside the rink. “Let’s make it next time! I have to go now.” When paying me, we exchanged contact information. After returning to the hotel, Vaughn sent me a message. [Did you get home safely?] I couldn’t help but smile. But I only replied with a simple “yes”.

After the holiday, I started preparing to sign up for the debate competition. In my previous life, although Vaughn and I knew each other, at school, he was in the top class while I was in the lowest. At home, he lived on the top floor, and I lived in the basement. We were two people who would never have crossed paths. It was because of a debate competition that Vaughn noticed me. This time, I wanted to shine even brighter in the debate competition. But when I prepared all the materials, I found out that my hometown high school had no plans to participate. Frustrated, I directly rolled up my bedding and slept in the hallway outside the principal’s house. The principal couldn’t resist my persistence and finally agreed to help me form a team and register, but we had to cover the costs ourselves. Fortunately, there were many students in the school who wanted to participate. We prepared and competed together, busy but happy. Vaughn would sometimes send me messages. Every time, I would stop what I was doing and read each word several times. In the end, I would patiently reply with just a few words. Before the winter break of our first year, I led the debate team into the finals. Vaughn spotted me immediately. “You found another part-time job here?” I flashed my school badge. “I’m here for the finals.” Vaughn glanced at the badge, his eyes widening. “You’re the legendary debater from Maple Leaf High School.” “Legendary?” Vaughn’s expression changed, his gaze intense. “With your school’s level, making it to the finals is like divine intervention. “Half of today’s audience is here for your team captain. Introduce me to your captain later.” At this moment, my teammate ran over. “Captain, our seats are over there. Let’s go!” Vaughn was stunned, his gaze towards me seemed to be changing.

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I had just gotten married when my in-laws decided to wash their hands of everything and travel all over the place. For the past two years, the couple has been traveling across the country. They’ve been spending their savings like there’s no tomorrow. I’ve told my husband several times to persuade his parents to save some money for their retirement. But my husband always retorts with a gruff voice: “Are you hoping to leech off my parents? Why are you always calculating their money? As their children, of course we’ll take care of them in their old age. Why else would we have kids?” My good intentions were misunderstood. After that, I stopped bringing it up. I figured as long as they had enough money for themselves and didn’t burden us, it would be fine. But I was naive to think the problem would be that simple. With the way my in-laws were spending money, how could their savings be enough? In the living room. “Alex, you know your cousin is getting married this July. I was wondering when your mom could pay back the $7,000 she borrowed from me last year,” Aunt Emma asked bluntly as she placed the candy and gifts she brought on the table. My husband and I were stunned for a moment, looking at each other in confusion. My husband quickly recovered and probed, “Aunt Emma, did Mom borrow money from you privately? I had no idea.” Aunt Emma waved her hand and slowly explained the situation: “Your mom asked me not to tell you when she borrowed the money. She said she was out of cash and needed me to lend her a few thousand dollars. It’s not just me – your Uncle Jack and Aunt Sarah have also lent her money. I wouldn’t be in a rush to ask for it back, but your cousin is getting married, you know? I called your mom, but she said she didn’t have any money and told me to ask you.” My heart sank, and my face fell. It was bad enough that my in-laws had blown through their savings, but they were even borrowing money from relatives. My husband’s face also darkened, and he let out a long sigh: “Aunt Emma, give me your bank account details. I’ll try to gather the money and transfer it to you in the next couple of days.” “Alright, I’ll send you the account information when I get home. I’ll be going now,” Aunt Emma said with a smile, getting up to leave as soon as my husband agreed to repay the money. I tried hard to suppress my anger. I forced a smile as I saw her out. As soon as I closed the door. Furious, I clutched my aching chest and exclaimed: “Honey, what’s wrong with your parents? Isn’t all that money enough for them? They’re even borrowing money from relatives now? I told you earlier to ask them to be more careful with their spending. Look what’s happened now!” My husband’s face was grim too. He snapped: “Enough, stop nagging about this and that. I’ll ask them about it later.” My husband irritably took out a pack of cigarettes and started smoking. Then he called his parents and asked them to come over right away. Whenever it came to matters concerning his parents. My husband couldn’t bear to hear a word against them from me. My temper flared up too, and I didn’t want to stay with him. I went back to our room to take care of the baby. My in-laws have been selfish their entire lives. They’ve never thought about their children. When my husband and I got married, we used money that he had saved from his own work. His parents didn’t contribute a penny. They even made us pay for our own wedding. Later, when we bought a house, my husband used all his savings and borrowed some money from friends to come up with $20,000. My parents also gave us $20,000 to help our little family. I had thought about asking my mother-in-law to lend us some money to reduce our mortgage burden. But she brushed me off, saying she had no money. She even declared harshly: “No one can count on my money.” And now, this is what’s happened… I suddenly felt that the pressure on my husband and me would be enormous in the future. “Quick, quick, Lily, make me something to eat. I’m starving!” My mother-in-law’s voice came from outside. As soon as I walked out, my mother-in-law immediately ordered me to make her food in a bossy tone. I didn’t agree. My husband made tea for his parents and brought it over: “Mom, I called you over today because I need to clarify something. Did you borrow money from Aunt Emma and the others? Aunt Emma came by today saying you borrowed $7,000 from her last year.” Hearing this, my father-in-law nervously looked left and right while holding his cup, not saying a word. My mother-in-law was stunned for a few seconds, then reacted and said matter-of-factly: “Oh my, I had forgotten all about that. Yes, I borrowed $7,000 from your Aunt Emma last year. Mom’s a bit short on cash now, so can you help me pay it back?” My husband asked in disbelief: “Mom, you two have so much in savings, and it’s still not enough for the two of you?” Seeing that her son was angry, my mother-in-law’s eyes darted around, trying to change the subject: “What’s wrong? I’m your own mother. What’s wrong with me spending some money? We do have savings, and we haven’t asked you for money before. You don’t know, but in my group of friends, their sons give them money every month. Look at you!” My husband ignored her attempt to change the subject. I couldn’t hold back: “Well, other parents buy houses and cars for their children! What about you? We’re not asking for your money, but at least don’t drag us down!” But my mother-in-law didn’t take my words seriously: “I’m talking to my son. Why are you butting in? I’m not asking you to pay, am I?” “You…” Just as I was about to argue with my mother-in-law, my husband grabbed my wrist and pulled me back. His eyes were full of disapproval. Although he was also angry about his parents’ behavior. He didn’t approve of me, his daughter-in-law, talking back to his mother. I was furious too, and since he didn’t want me involved, I wouldn’t be. I wrenched my hand free and sat down by myself. My husband rubbed his forehead in frustration, trying to keep his voice calm: “Tell me, Mom, how much money do you actually owe?” My in-laws exchanged a glance. My husband stared at them intently. My mother-in-law hesitated: “A…about $20,000.” “What? You owe that much? Are you spending money or throwing it away? I told you to be more careful with your monthly expenses. $20,000 is my entire year’s salary. Are you trying to work me to death?” Before my mother-in-law could finish, my husband jumped up in anger. He couldn’t help but point at his parents and scold them. “Don’t… don’t be angry. As long as you help pay off these debts, we won’t spend so recklessly in the future,” my mother-in-law promised, cowering a bit, frightened by my husband’s outburst. “Pay it back? Where am I supposed to get that kind of money? I still have to pay the mortgage and car loan every month!” my husband snapped back at his mother in frustration. Then he sat down heavily on the sofa. The living room fell into an awkward silence. Until my mother-in-law turned on me: “Lily, didn’t you have your mom come look after the baby before? You paid her every month, right? Your mom must have some money saved up now. Why don’t you ask her to lend us some?” Last year after I gave birth, I had originally wanted my mother-in-law to help take care of the baby. I was going to give her $500 a month as compensation, but she refused because she was busy traveling. I had no choice but to ask my mom to come after discussing it with my husband. My mom adamantly refused to take any money, but after my repeated insistence. She symbolically took $300 a month. But she often bought things for me and the baby. That money, though given to my mom, mostly ended up back in our pockets. And my mom still tirelessly took care of the child. I clenched my fists, suppressing my emotions: “Mom, I had originally wanted to pay you to look after the baby, but you didn’t want to, so I had to ask my mom to come. My mom didn’t want to take any money, and in the end only symbolically took $300 a month. And with how often she buys things for the family, that money doesn’t even stay in her pocket. How can you have the nerve to try to get money from my mom?” But my mother-in-law refused to listen to reason, taking the opportunity to play the elder card: “That sounds nice, but would you really let your mom suffer a loss? Who knows how much money you’ve given her behind our backs? Besides, the baby is her grandchild too. Is it about the money or about hurting feelings?” When it’s not about her, she always takes the high road. I scoffed coldly: “How noble of you! You talk about feelings! Well, the baby is your own grandson too. Why don’t you come take care of him for free without asking for money?” “You… how dare you talk back to me like this? I’m still your mother-in-law! Son, control your wife. Look how disrespectful she is to her elders.” Choked by my words, my mother-in-law’s face turned from red to white. She resorted to shifting the topic. “Enough, stop arguing. Mom and Dad, you should go home first. I’ll figure something out!” my husband interrupted impatiently, cutting off the argument between me and his mother. “Alex, Mom knew you wouldn’t let her down. You’re such a good, filial son. I’ll leave that money issue to you to sort out then.” Having achieved her goal, my mother-in-law’s face lit up with a smile. She showered my husband with praise. Then she took my father-in-law’s arm and sauntered out. I sat silently to the side. Inwardly, I resented my husband. Our family wasn’t well-off either. He had taken on this burden, but with his parents’ extravagant spending habits. I feared that once this debt was paid off, they would just borrow more. When would it ever end? After thinking for a long while, I couldn’t hold back and spoke up: “Honey, do you really plan to help your parents pay off this debt? What if they keep borrowing in the future?” My husband took a drag on his cigarette and replied dismissively: “What else can I do? They’re my parents. If I don’t help pay off this debt, who will? People would laugh at me.” I rolled my eyes: “Anyone with eyes can see your parents are just trying to freeload off us because they’re out of money. They want to stay at our place to eat and drink for free, and have me as their unpaid housekeeper to serve your whole family.” As soon as he heard me badmouth his parents, my husband immediately put on a serious face: “That’s enough. It’s natural for parents to rely on their children. Don’t worry, I’ll let them stay for a week, then I’ll send them back home. I can’t just turn them away when they show up at our door with their luggage, can I?” Although I was indignant inside. But thinking about it, what my husband said did make sense. Forcing my in-laws to leave today would likely lead to gossip from the neighbors. “Alright, but remember what you said – send your parents home after a week.” I still made a concession. After my in-laws moved in It was pretty much as I had expected. Because we didn’t agree to pay my mother-in-law, even though I was already run ragged at home, she refused to lend a hand. She waited for me to cook three meals a day and was picky about the food. She had also joined a dance group downstairs. Whenever she had time, she would go dancing in the neighborhood. She didn’t help with any housework at all. That would have been fine. But my in-laws were also not very hygienic. They often left their dirty clothes lying around. They never threw used bags into the trash can. Instead, they just left them on the table. In just a few short days. The house was in a complete mess. I was busy from dawn to dusk every day. Juggling housework and childcare, while also looking after two elderly people. I was on the verge of a mental and physical breakdown. So, after a week. I brought up the idea of having my in-laws return to their own home again. “We’re not going back. Your father and I are comfortable staying here, with good food and drink. Why should we go back to live by ourselves? What? You dare not let your mother-in-law stay at your place?” Sure enough, as soon as I brought it up. My mother-in-law glared coldly at my husband, ignoring me. My husband smiled awkwardly and put some meat in his mother’s bowl: “Mom, my home is your home! Stay as long as you like.” My father-in-law also chimed in while eating: “Alex, you can’t forget your parents just because you got married. It was your mother and I who raised you with such hardship. Now that you’re married, you won’t even let your own parents stay? People would curse you if they heard this.”

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My father, Derek Hartman, was a DEA agent who gave his life on the front lines of the drug war. Since I was a kid, I had one dream: to restore his badge number and follow in his footsteps. When I learned my scores were good enough to get into the federal law enforcement academy, I called my mom immediately to share the news. Her response was harsh: “You? A cop? With your pathetic grades? Restore your father’s badge number. Don’t embarrass him. Get lost!” Her words hit like a sledgehammer. Devastated, I wandered home, only to be ambushed in Shadow Creek Alley by a group of thugs. “Word is your dad, Derek Hartman, was a DEA hotshot. Trained a bunch of agents and made life hell for us. Let’s talk about that, shall we?” I refused to go quietly, fighting with everything I had. But they were prepared. A knife pierced my lower back, draining me of all strength. As my consciousness faded, I thought of my mom’s last words. Mom… have I disgraced Dad? Content In the early hours of the morning, Bayport police received a report about large amounts of blood found in Shadow Creek Alley. No victim was in sight. The caller assumed it was a drunken brawl gone wrong and urged the police to find the injured person quickly. Officers arrived to find the heavy rain had washed the blood into a chaotic mess. There were no signs of a victim nearby. A thorough search of the area led them to Riverside Millworks, an abandoned factory where they discovered dismembered body parts scattered across the floor. In the autopsy room, harsh fluorescent lights flickered on. “What’s the situation with this case?” A calm, authoritative voice broke the silence as a woman in a crisp forensic uniform entered, followed by two young officers. It was Dr. Vanessa Sterling-Hartman—my mother and the most respected forensic examiner in Bayport. One of the officers said hesitantly, “Dr. Hartman, the victim’s condition is… bad. Maybe you should prepare yourself…” My mom waved them off. “I’ve seen everything there is to see. Let’s start the autopsy and solve this case quickly.” Indeed, my mother had seen it all in her two-decade career—decapitations, dismemberments, even bodies dissolved in cement. She was a consummate professional. But Mom… have you ever considered that the body on your autopsy table might be the son you’ve always ignored? Floating above, detached and invisible, I watched her work without emotion. When she unzipped the body bag, her brow furrowed deeply—not just because of the mangled remains, but because one critical part was missing. “Where’s the head?” “We searched the entire factory,” one officer stammered. “It’s likely the suspects took it.” “Fine. Let’s proceed.” She donned gloves and began sorting the remains—bones, flesh, fragments of fingers. Each piece she identified was meticulously placed in order. “The victim is male. He’s between eighteen and twenty-three, roughly five-foot-nine to six feet, based on the growth plates. Likely a student,” she narrated with clinical precision. “Judging by the condition of the cuts, the killers broke the victim’s finger bones, radius, ulna, humerus, tibia, and femur while he was still alive. Then, they dismembered the limbs. It seems they weren’t satisfied and used blunt tools—his ribs and vertebrae are almost entirely shattered.” Her grim analysis left one of the young officers pale and trembling. He clutched his stomach, barely holding back nausea. The unimaginable pain and despair the victim endured hung heavy in the room. Mom turned suddenly. “Were any weapons found at the scene?” “Yes… these,” the officer stammered, handing her photos of a rusted, bloodstained saw and a hammer caked in blood and flesh. The dull blade of the saw had been used to cut through every joint and bone. The pain it inflicted on a living person was beyond description.

Mom frowned deeply. “This isn’t random. What kind of grudge would drive someone to do this to a kid?” Even revenge killings didn’t usually escalate to this level of brutality. One of the officers responded respectfully, “Dr. Hartman, Detective Sam Boone’s preliminary investigation ruled out robbery and random violence. This is a revenge killing. The team is cross-checking recent cases of missing persons citywide.” “Good,” she replied tersely. She resumed reconstructing the remains, hoping to uncover clues. But her efforts were in vain. Even dental records—often a surefire way to identify a victim—were useless because the suspects had taken the head. Identifying a person from such a pulverized, unclothed body seemed impossible. Floating nearby, I felt a strange mix of relief and sorrow. At least Mom didn’t know it was me. If she did, she’d only call me a disappointment one last time… With a heavy sigh, she muttered, “Poor kid. Whatever grudge they had with his family, why take it out on him?” For a brief moment, her eyes shimmered with tears. This was the mom I didn’t recognize. The meticulous forensic examiner piecing together every shard of bone. The compassionate woman feels for an unknown victim. It felt so foreign. I’d always known Mom didn’t like me. I remember one rainy night when I was in elementary school. I had a fever, and Mom rushed me to the hospital, letting Dad—exhausted from days of overtime—rest at home. But she didn’t know Dad got an urgent call not long after we left. He ran out without even grabbing his gear. That same night, he was killed in a shootout with a cartel kingpin. Mom was the one who handled Dad’s autopsy. I was too young to understand death back then, but now I realize how traumatic that must have been for her. Maybe Mom blamed me. If I hadn’t fallen ill that night, Dad might still be alive. Looking at her now, I couldn’t blame her. Her focus was interrupted by a sudden ringtone. She stopped mid-motion, glaring at the two officers. “It’s not us,” they said quickly. Mom checked her phone. The call was from Rachel, my aunt. “I’m busy,” Mom answered curtly. “Vanessa, do you know where Elijah is? His phone’s off, and no one’s seen him.” “Elijah?” Mom frowned. “I don’t know. I yelled at him yesterday. He’s probably sulking in some gaming café. Leave him be.” Rachel’s voice grew concerned. “You yelled at him? Vanessa, he was so excited yesterday! His scores were good enough for the academy!” “Academy? That boy needs to get a job in IT or something. Is he becoming a cop? That would be an insult to the profession.” Her voice was as sharp as ever.

Rachel hesitated momentarily before saying, “It’s always been Elijah’s dream. He worked so hard to get those scores. I even planned to celebrate with a big dinner—I bought so much seafood…” Vanessa’s anger flared. “I don’t care! If he applies to that academy, he can forget about calling me his mother. He can go rot wherever he wants!” She ended the call abruptly, her chest rising and falling in frustration as she stood over the autopsy table, silent for a long time. I’m sorry, Mom. I won’t apply to the academy. Please don’t be mad. It’s not worth your health. I wanted so badly to tell her that. But as a wandering spirit, I could only hover above and watch helplessly. I wanted to cry, but ghosts have no tears. By now, Mom had reassembled most of the body, but something was missing—two fingers from the right hand. She frowned, instructing the nearby officer. “The right ring finger and pinky are missing. Tell the team at the scene to look again. If they’re not found…” My spirit tensed. When I was a kid, I had teased a police dog and gotten bitten. Those two fingers had scars so deep they were unmistakable. That dog had to retire early because of me, and Mom had berated me endlessly. Had she forgotten? Of course, she forgot. She never cared about me… No! Maybe it’s better if she doesn’t remember. I can’t let her know she’s the one who lost both Dad and me. The young officer saluted. “Understood! If we can’t find the fingers, it likely means they had distinctive markings.” Mom nodded. “Exactly. Focus on people with old injuries or tattoos on their hands.” She cut off a small piece of flesh. “Run a DNA test. Cross-reference it with the database. Find any immediate relatives.” I felt a wave of panic. If they ran DNA tests, they’d figure it out quickly. Mom! Don’t do it. Don’t run the DNA! Drop this case! Please! But my pleas fell on deaf ears. She couldn’t hear me. Mom worked tirelessly in the autopsy room for hours. She had arrived early, and it was already dark again when she stepped out. “Dr. Hartman, you’ve worked so hard,” one of the officers said. Mom nodded slightly, about to head home when she saw Rachel waiting anxiously near the station entrance. “Vanessa, Elijah’s been missing for more than a day now! I talked to his friends—they haven’t seen him! I even checked all the gaming cafés near the school, but he was nowhere. What do we do?” Mom’s face tightened with annoyance. “This is just one of his tricks to get me to let him apply to the academy! It’s not going to work. As long as he stays out of trouble and follows the law, that’s good enough. He’s not cut out to be a cop!” Rachel’s eyes filled with tears. “Forget his applications! His safety is the priority right now! I just heard there’s been a big case—a boy was dismembered. Aren’t you even worried it could be Elijah?” Mom’s frustration erupted. “Stop speculating about open cases that haven’t been made public! Elijah is eighteen. He’s old enough to take care of himself. If something happens to him, it’s his fault for being careless and wondering where he shouldn’t!” Rachel froze. “I’m not trying to dig for information. I’m just… scared for him.” Mom’s gaze hardened. “If he can’t manage basic risk assessment, he has no business applying to the academy. He might as well go get a job at some office instead.”

“Vanessa Sterling-Hartman! Do you hear yourself? Elijah lost his father when he was just a kid. He’s already been through enough! Instead of breaking him down, you should be building him up. What kind of person are you?” Rachel’s voice cracked as she yelled, tears streaming down her face. “You better pray that poor boy, in this case,e isn’t Elijah. Because if it is, you’ll never forgive yourself!” Her words sent a jolt of fear through me. Does she know? But the look on Rachel’s face wasn’t one of certainty. She was bluffing to provoke Mom. And it worked. Mom’s face went pale, her voice defensive. “Impossible! I would know if it was my son! That boy is not Elijah!” Rachel clenched her fists. “If it is Elijah, you’re not getting those remains. You don’t care about him anyway. He belongs to the Hartman family!” Mom shot back, “Take him! Do you think I care? I’ve had enough of that dead weight anyway!” Rachel shook with anger. “You’re unbelievable, Vanessa! Elijah is a great kid; all he’s ever gotten from you is cruelty. You’re heartless! I can’t even look at you!” I floated above them, unsure how to feel. Rachel had always been there for me, especially after Dad’s death. Mom only cared for my basic needs, but Rachel filled in the gaps. She gave me my first razor and my first pair of boxers. When I wanted to apply to the academy, Rachel secretly paid for my tutoring sessions. From school supplies to gadgets, she covered it all. To Rachel, I was practically her son. As she stormed out of the station, I followed, hovering close. She pulled out her phone, hands trembling, and began typing a message. Curious, I leaned in to see. Elijah, things are dangerous out there. No matter how upset you are with your mom, you must come home. And if you can’t face her, come to me. I’ll pay for your college. Forget your mom—my door is always open. Please be safe. Tears welled up as I read her words. Rachel lost her brother, my dad, that night in the rain. Yet, she never let bitterness take root. She gave all her love to me instead. I’m sorry, Aunt Rachel. I’m afraid I’ll only let you down. I followed her for a while, but the further we got from the police station, the weaker I felt. My body—what was left of it—kept me tethered there. When I returned, I found Mom slumped in a chair, staring blankly ahead. One of the young officers approached her cautiously. “Dr. Hartman, you’ve been working nonstop for twenty hours. Please, get some rest.” Mom shook her head. “No. I can’t let this case go. I’ll rest here briefly, then go over the remains again.” The officer hesitated but nodded. “Alright.” I watched Mom’s exhausted body waver, torn between her dedication and limits. “The DNA results are in!” The announcement electrified the station. Even I felt a surge of unease. Mom, who had spent the last two nights at the station, rushed to the records room. “Did the database find a match? Who’s the victim?” “They’re running the comparison now. Give it a moment,” an officer replied. Everyone crowded around the screen, watching the progress bar creep forward. 75%… 88%… 95%… 100%. Every breath in the room was held as they waited for the result.

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On the eve of our wedding, Elliot Starling suddenly became incredibly busy. He couldn’t even attend the wedding venue to oversee the decorations, as we had planned. Feeling guilty, he called to reassure me. “Riverhaven’s got thunderstorms tonight. Be a good girl and stay home, okay? Don’t go out.” “Don’t worry about the setup. All you need to do is show up as the beautiful bride you are.” But I wasn’t convinced. I went to check for myself. And that’s when I saw him. In the massive helicopter parked on the lawn, a woman in a flight attendant’s uniform kneeled between his legs. “Sir, did my service meet your expectations?” Elliot smirked and pulled the woman into his arms. But that was supposed to be my wedding venue. The helicopter? That was supposed to be my dream. …… Content The rain in Riverhaven was relentless, a downpour so wild it shook the skies. By the time I stumbled back home, I was drenched, pale, and shivering like a drowned cat. Feverish and burning up, I fumbled for a fever pill, swallowed it dry, and curled up under a blanket to make a call. “Hello? I’ve changed my mind.” “I want to join Atlantic Skies Airways. Yes, as soon as possible.” I hung up, sneezing hard as the memory of what I’d just witnessed came crashing back. I stayed in Riverhaven for Elliot. Now, I was leaving because of him. The medication kicked in, and I closed my eyes. Not long after, Elliot’s call jolted me awake. His voice on the other end was as soft and soothing as if nothing had changed. “Sienna, I’m swamped. Have you been eating properly?” I coughed twice. Elliot instantly grew concerned. “What’s wrong? Are you sick? Didn’t dress warmly enough, or…” His worry stopped short. A new sharpness entered his tone. “Sienna… you went out, didn’t you?” “Mm,” I murmured weakly. “I went downstairs to grab breakfast. Didn’t realize how bad the rain was.” The tension on his end eased. “I told you not to go out in this storm! We’ll have someone bring whatever you need to the villa.” “Our wedding’s just days away. If you’re too sick to stand, where will I find a bride as beautiful as you?” I didn’t respond. All I could think about was the helicopter on the lawn and the woman in uniform. I was sure Elliot would find someone else. If I couldn’t reach the altar “Sienna?” When I stayed silent, Elliot hesitated. Then, muffled noises: a stifled gasp, interrupted breaths. He growled low at someone near him, half-scolding, half-playful. “Sienna, the rain’s awful. Someone bumped into me out here.” “Be careful, okay? Don’t drive too fast.” “Don’t worry.” Elliot’s tone lightened. “Just thinking about finishing these meetings and returning to you makes me want to push seventy on the highway!” “Gotta go. Call you later.” The line disconnected abruptly, his usual sweet nothings cut short. Moments later, a text arrived: “Sienna, the wedding company just called. There’s a problem with the helicopter we booked—they must send it back for repairs. How about we replace it with a giant floral arch?” Repairs, huh? I thought back to the scene in the helicopter. Or maybe it needed fixing because it got a little too steamy during… whatever that was? Honestly, having a helicopter at the wedding was absurdly extravagant. It was Elliot’s idea. When I was 24, in my first year as a flight attendant, I had a rude passenger pour a scalding cup of water onto my hand. I still had to crouch down and clean the cabin, fighting tears. At the time, Elliot was struggling with his startup. I couldn’t afford to take a break, even with bandages covering my burn. That scar is still there. Elliot had held me back then, his voice trembling as he made a promise: “When I make it big, I’ll take you on a helicopter ride.” “No passengers, no service duties. Just the two of us. Something romantic, just ours.” But he didn’t keep that promise. He gave our romance to someone else. Everything else since then? Just guilt-ridden scraps. I didn’t want them anymore. A confused cat emoji popped up in our chat window. I stared at the keyboard, typing a single word: “Okay.”

When Elliot’s assistant dropped off food for me, I was deep in a feverish sleep and didn’t hear the doorbell. By the time I woke up, the takeout outside was cold. When I opened the bag, everything was exactly what I liked: light and easy to eat. The microwave was there, but I couldn’t bring myself to reheat it. I felt nauseous instead. I shoved the containers into the fridge and called Quinn Sawyer my best friend. “I’m leaving,” I told her. For the next fifteen minutes, she unleashed a tirade against Elliot Starling. “Are you serious? He’s sitting on his high horse now, and you’re just going to walk away quietly? Do you know how much that would benefit him?” “If you ask me, you should marry him first! Gather all the dirt on his cheating and sue him for divorce. Take half his fortune while you’re at it!” “You’ve given him ten years, Sienna. Ten years of your life, and for what? To walk away with nothing?” Ten years. That’s how long Elliot and I had been together. I watched him start from nothing, fail, rebuild, and finally create his brand. The most challenging years were during the pandemic. His fledgling company was on the brink of collapse. My flights were cut by more than half. We had no choice but to give up our spacious apartment and move into a cramped basement apartment. Those days were brutal. It was brutal to the point where we practically fought the rats in the walls for scraps. Elliot had to repay suppliers on time, or it would ruin his credit. He took on grueling manual labor to make ends meet. I begged my boss for extra flights. No matter how disgusting, complex, or dangerous, I took every route they threw at me. Somehow, we survived. I’ll never forget the day we paid off our last debt. Elliot locked the door to the basement, dragged a suitcase in one hand, and held my hand in the other. He took a deep breath, exhaled, and said: “Sienna Raine, thank you for staying by my side.” “I, Elliot Starling, swear to God—one day, I’ll make something of myself and give you the grandest wedding imaginable!” Back then, his sincerity was like crystal—pure and transparent. But years of struggling had dulled its shine. Quinn wasn’t entirely wrong. From an outsider’s perspective, I probably should fight for something to justify my ten years with him. But if I said I didn’t hate Elliot, no one would believe me. There was a moment of rage—when I saw him with that woman in the helicopter. But after that, all I felt was exhaustion. I just wanted to leave. To get far away from him, from this place filled with a decade of memories, and start over. “I don’t want to make this ugly,” I said, lowering my gaze. Call me weak, call me a coward. I didn’t want to rip apart the veil of decency between us and destroy the best parts of our ten years together. Because those years were my youth. No matter how rotten he became, Elliot Starling was the man I had once loved with all my heart. Quinn sighed. “So when are you leaving?” I checked my inbox. Atlantic Skies Airways had already sent the offer letter. “Two days.” In just two days, I would be gone. It was 10 p.m., and Elliot still wasn’t home. Since his career took off, we lived on opposite schedules. Sometimes, I flew red-eye flights and returned to an empty house. Eventually, I requested not to fly at night. I just wanted to return home to some semblance of “us.” I’d gotten used to waiting. But tonight, I didn’t want to wait. Just as I turned off the lights, my phone rang. The sound of running water came through the line, sharp and jarring in the stillness of the night. “Sienna, don’t wait up for me.” “I was supposed to fly back tonight, but the moment I landed, they pulled me into back-to-back meetings.” “Everyone’s scrambling to get things done before I go on wedding leave…” “Don’t be mad, okay? After the wedding, I’ll make it up to you with the best honeymoon ever.” I wanted to ask him: What flight takes off from Liberty Tower’s rooftop terrace and lands at this hotel? What kind of meeting requires participants to shower before joining? But I said none of that. “Work’s important. Take care of yourself, too,” I replied instead. He started to say something, but then the sound of water stopped. Bare feet padded across hardwood. Clothing rustled. I could almost hear someone whispering near his ear. A dull thud followed. His phone hit the ground. Through the line came the unmistakable sounds of lips meeting lips. Maybe he was in such a rush he forgot to hang up. I listened masochistically until a woman’s soft, breathy voice broke through: “Elliot, are you getting married?” Elliot likely lit a cigarette. I could hear the exhale. “What else would I do?” he chuckled. “She’s been with me for ten years. I owe her a title. Can’t have people saying I’m heartless.” The woman sneered, her tone mocking. “What a generous older man. You never wondered if she, as a flight attendant, might’ve been with other men all these years?” Elliot didn’t respond. Unaware of his silence, the woman kept going. “I heard she flew a lot of Mexico flights. Aren’t those notorious?” “Plus, no one in her line of work is sponsor-free. Didn’t she bail you out during your financial crisis?” “Enough!” Elliot roared. “Speak out of turn again, and you’ll regret it! I know who Sienna Raine is, and it’s not your place to judge her!” I hung up, trembling from head to toe. I knew Elliot. He didn’t lose his temper without reason. He had listened, taken it in, and let it sink deep into his heart. Memories of those difficult years resurfaced. To pay off his debts, I flew countless Mexico flights. The conditions were beyond nasty. But worse were the leering stares, the feeling of being prey surrounded by wolves. By the end of each flight, my body bore black handprints I couldn’t wash away. Once, a passenger tricked me into coming to the back of the plane and then dragged me into the restroom to assault me. If not for a colleague passing by and hearing my cries for help, I might not have escaped. On the way home, I cried for hours. But when I reached the door, I dried my tears. I didn’t want Elliot to know. I didn’t want him to feel guilty or worried. So I said nothing—not about that, the men who offered to “sponsor” me or the businessmen who tried to date me. I rejected them all. Because I knew Elliot only had me. And I only had him. I believed in every promise he made and every word he spoke utterly. I believed he’d make it one day. And he did. But now, I didn’t want it anymore.

The following day, I woke up early, determined to start packing. I wanted to sort the more significant items for shipping before I left. I didn’t expect Elliot Starling to walk through the door. The photo frame holding our engagement picture from when I was 27 fell to the floor and shattered. I scrambled to pick it up, only to cut my finger on the broken glass. Blood dripped onto the floor. Elliot rushed over to help, his face full of worry. “You’re not feeling well. Lie down and rest. Let the cleaning lady handle this.” As he spoke, he angrily kicked the photo frame across the room. I froze, staring at the shards of glass and the photo now scattered on the floor. Tears welled in my eyes. That photo… was from the day we got engaged. When Elliot earned his first real paycheck, he bought me a simple white sundress and a modest diamond ring. He dragged me to take engagement photos, grinning the whole time. That same day, he promised to take me to the Liberty Tower Rooftop Terrace for their rotating buffet dinner. “That place costs thousands, doesn’t it?” I said, wincing at the thought. Elliot threw an arm around my shoulder and said confidently, “I make the money; you spend it. Isn’t that how it’s supposed to be?” I shook my head and teased him. “I hate sushi, and that place serves too much of it. I don’t want to ruin my stomach for days.” “How about this: buy me a big bowl of spicy mac and cheese with extra eggs. Save the rest of the money, and you can take me when I want to go.” He laughed, ruffled my hair, and said, “Deal.” But we never did have that bowl of spicy mac and cheese. And the wedding he promised? That had been postponed for seven years. Seven years gone by in a flash. Elliot noticed my tears and panicked. “Does it hurt?” I shook my head, but the tears wouldn’t stop. “Don’t cry, Sienna,” he said gently, wiping my face. “We’ve got to try on wedding dresses today. You’ll look terrible in photos if your eyes are swollen.” I froze. “Didn’t we already pick one out?” A flicker of guilt crossed his face. “We did, but the boutique just called. They’ve got an even more luxurious, custom-made gown. I want you to have the best.” His gaze burned with intensity, but I couldn’t tell if it was genuine or just another performance. Elliot, you always needed to understand. I never wanted luxury or extravagance. That simple sundress you bought me all those years ago meant more than any couture gown ever could. Still, I didn’t resist. I let him lead me to the boutique. The moment we walked in, the staff recognized him. They glanced at me briefly, then avoided my eyes, shifting nervously. I had a good idea of what that meant. Following Elliot’s instructions, the manager ushered me to the premium section to pick a gown. As we passed the storage area, I saw two employees moving a wedding dress into the back. It was the dress I had chosen. I smiled to myself but said nothing. Dress after dress, Elliot found none to his satisfaction. Finally, I stepped out in a pure white satin, strapless gown. Elliot, who had been sitting with his head down, looked up. He stared at me, speechless for a long time. I saw a whirlwind of emotions in his eyes—admiration, nostalgia, confusion, doubt, disdain, and irritation. Then, he frowned. “Who told you to bring her a plain white dress like this?” My heart sank. Did he see me as unworthy of the purity the dress symbolized? Or was he convinced that my efforts to support him during our most challenging years came at the cost of my dignity? “I told you! I want the most extravagant, sparkling, and ornate gown you have! Don’t try to pass off something so basic!” His contempt cut more profound than any glass shard could. Before the staff could bring another dress, I slipped into the dressing room and leaned against the wall. My chest felt tight, my eyes stung, but the tears wouldn’t fall. Through the curtain, I heard Elliot’s low voice on the phone. “Why are you calling me? You know I’m with her at the boutique.” “If you hadn’t swiped her dress with my black card, I wouldn’t have had to come back here!” “When I see her in plain white… I can’t help but think about what you said…” “Forget it. You’ll be there for me later. As long as she stays put at home, that’s enough.” When he dropped me off at home later, his words still echoed in my head, refusing to leave. Eventually, I snapped back to reality and found myself alone. I went to the closet and pulled out the white sundress Elliot gave me when I was 27. It still hung there. I folded it carefully and placed it in a large bag to donate. Next, I climbed up to the attic and cleared old boxes. Inside were piles of photos from our shared history. I pulled the albums out, tossing the photos into the fire until nothing was left but ashes. The empty albums and boxes went outside for pickup. Then, I found an old notebook at the bottom of a box. Its yellowed pages were filled with Elliot’s handwriting—his accounting ledger from the early days of his business. He had meticulously recorded every penny borrowed, repaid, earned, and spent. I remembered how he used to carry that notebook everywhere. It was like his lifeline. Now, it was buried among our forgotten memories. I brushed off crumbs and stains—remnants of long nights, cheap meals, and tears shed in frustration. Flipping through, I noticed a recurring entry: “2018: Owe Mr. Landon $20,000. Due within a year.” “2018: Owe Mr. Grant $10,000. Due within a year.” “2018: Year-end summary—Owe Sienna Raine one wedding. Lifetime repayment.” I froze, staring at the words. Every year, my name appeared in his notes. On the last page, in bold red ink, Elliot had written: “Elliot Starling, never forget to marry your girl.” “Remind yourself every year until you fulfill this promise.” I didn’t know what to feel. I could only laugh weakly, unsure if it was bitterness or resignation. Sliding the notebook into the hidden compartment of my suitcase, I zipped it shut and prepared for my last flight. A one-way ticket to Montclair. From there, I’d transfer to Greenport and start my new job at Atlantic Skies Airways. But I never expected to see Elliot Starling on that flight.

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It was our anniversary, and I lied to Preston Ashford, telling him I couldn’t return from a work trip. In reality, I had prepared a special gift and was hiding in the walk-in closet of our bedroom to surprise him. But then, I overheard his conversation with a friend. “Preston, when are you going to come clean with her? Don’t tell me you’re falling for that woman.” “A woman like her? Not a chance.” “Everett’s been ruined because of her. The Winslow family may have let it go, but I sure as hell won’t.” “Next month is our engagement party. I’ll leave her at the altar and let her feel the sting of abandonment.” Their voices were filled with venom, discussing me like I was their sworn enemy. I froze. My blood turned to ice as the realization sank in. Everett Winslow. He was my ex-boyfriend. And the source of my nightmares. Content It was our anniversary, and I lied to Preston Ashford, telling him I couldn’t return from a work trip. In reality, I had meticulously planned a surprise, hiding in the walk-in closet with a gift I’d picked out just for him. Before long, Preston and his friend Travis Holt entered the bedroom. I was ready to jump out and surprise him, but I stopped when I heard Travis say, “Preston, when are you going to tell her the truth? Don’t tell me you’ve fallen for that piece of trash.” I froze in place. Tell me the truth about what? “Not a chance,” Preston scoffed. “Everett’s in that condition because of her. The Winslows might not care, but I’ll never forgive her.” “Next month is our engagement party. That’s when I’ll walk out on her in front of everyone and let her taste humiliation.” Travis gritted his teeth, his voice laced with anger. “Everett’s been our brother since we were kids. That woman nearly destroyed him!” “You’ve got to use her and then toss her aside. Let her suffer.” “Don’t worry. I came back to the States for this. I’ve been waiting for the moment to make her hurt a hundred times worse than Everett.” The two of them chatted a little longer before leaving the room. I sat there frozen, my mind a whirlwind of disbelief. My blood seemed to stop flowing, my body growing colder every second. I thought I’d never hear his name again. Everett Winslow. My ex-boyfriend. And my worst nightmare.

Everett Winslow was my first love. After graduating from Emerson University, I fell for him after months of relentless pursuit. At first, we were like any other couple in love—inseparable and utterly obsessed with each other. But slowly, I realized something was wrong. Everett had a pathological, suffocating need for control. After dating, he forbade me from talking to male friends or even casually speaking to other men. He needed me to account for every minute of my day, no matter where or with whom I was. At first, I thought it was his way of showing love. Even though it felt odd, I didn’t think much of it. One night, I worked late, and a male colleague offered me a ride home. When I exited the car, I tripped in my heels, and he reached out to steady me. Everett appeared out of nowhere and punched the man square in the face. “Who the hell gave you permission to touch my woman?” he snarled. He didn’t stop until I physically pulled him away, begging him to stop. That was the first time I saw him truly angry. His bloodshot eyes and twisted face reminded me of a wild animal protecting its territory. From that moment on, cracks began to form in our relationship. He insisted on driving me to and from work daily, demanding to know what I was doing and who I was with. If I went out with friends, he’d show up uninvited and drag me home if men were present. One time, I didn’t answer his calls during a meeting. He called me 70 or 80 times and even barged into my office to confirm I was there. His behavior drained me. The final straw came when he secretly deleted every male contact from my phone. It caused delays at work, and my boss reprimanded me. When I confronted him at home, he shrugged it off and told me to quit my job. “There are too many men at your office. I can’t trust it,” he said. Enraged, I couldn’t take it anymore and told him we were done. Everett lost it. He destroyed everything in our apartment, glass shards cutting my ankle in the chaos. Then he collapsed at my feet, sobbing and begging for forgiveness, swearing he couldn’t live without me. I caved and gave him another chance. But it only got worse. He started hiring people to follow me and tapped my phone. When I couldn’t stand it anymore, I moved back to my parents’ house while he was out. It didn’t take long for him to show up. Standing in my living room, his face was dark as he said, “Baby, I can’t live without you. But if I die, I’m taking you with me.” Terrified, I returned to him. And that’s when the absolute nightmare began. He pretended to be me and quit my job. Then, he took away my phone. I was a prisoner in his estate, only allowed outside if he was with me. If I tried to leave, he’d destroy things in a rage. At night, he would pin me down, his strength overpowering my protests. He tied me up when I resisted and ignored my screams. During his worst moments, he would strangle me, his red eyes crazed. “You’re mine,” he’d whisper, “Only mine. No one else can have you.” I passed out more than once, the room spinning until I blacked out. Those months turned me into a ghost of myself. He kept me isolated, and any attempt to reach out to someone came with his threats. “If you tell anyone, I’ll destroy them,” he’d say. I knew he meant it. After three months of living like this, I cracked. One day, while walking outside, I broke free of his grasp and ran into oncoming traffic. I thought it would all end there. But Everett saved me. He ended up hospitalized, and his family finally learned what he’d done to me. To save face, the Winslow family sent him abroad for psychiatric treatment. I moved to a new city to start over. But the memories stayed with me, haunting my nights. Even now, I dream of him strangling me, his face twisted in rage. For a long time, I felt like someone was always watching me. Like the most minor wrong step would destroy me. I was scared. I was scared that Everett would come back for me. I avoided strangers and avoided relationships until I met Preston Ashford.

At the time, I had just started a new job. His company was on the same floor as mine. One evening, I was working late and hadn’t eaten. My old habit of low blood sugar caught up with me, and I fainted while waiting for the elevator. He was the one who found me, carried me to his office, and gave me food until I felt better. He even insisted on driving me home. To thank him, I invited him out for dinner. From then on, we started talking more often. He had this clear sense of boundaries—polite, careful, and gentlemanly. Around him, I felt at ease, free from the suffocating tension I used to know. We even shared eerily similar interests. We loved the same old movies, the same obscure songs, and even the same flavor of ice cream. After a year of his gentle persistence, my guard came down, and I let myself fall. Unlike Everett Winslow’s overpowering possessiveness, Preston was kind and understanding. He gave me space and freedom but always knew when to show care. Each day with him felt like a blessing. For the first time, I didn’t think about the nightmares of my past. I was so happy; I truly believed he was my soulmate—my salvation. Just the day before I overheard him, we’d been dreaming about the future, laughing as we debated whether to have one child or two. But all of it was a carefully woven lie. A dream spun for me to lower my guard so he could trap me at my most vulnerable. He had told me he returned to the States to advance his career. In truth, he came back to get revenge. Thinking back now, I realize Everett Winslow was undergoing treatment in Denver, Colorado, all this time. Not long ago, Preston had proposed to me in a grand gesture. He insisted on hosting a big engagement party, inviting all his friends from abroad to celebrate. I was overjoyed, thinking I had found someone I could share my life with. But it was just an elaborate performance. He couldn’t wait to humiliate me in front of everyone and settle the score for his best friend. From the very start, it had all been part of his plan. And I had given him my heart so foolishly. While I thought I was the happiest woman in the world, he had only calculation and deceit in his heart. My body trembled uncontrollably as nausea rose like a tidal wave. I ran to the bathroom and emptied my stomach, the bitterness twisting inside me. After the piercing pain subsided, a burning anger ignited within me. I stared at my reflection in the mirror, disheveled and pale. I’d play along if he wanted to put on a show. If he planned to leave me at the altar for his cruel finale… Then what if I left him first?

On Saturday, Preston invited me to a dinner party. He said an old friend had just returned from abroad, and everyone was gathering to catch up. I thought about it for a moment and agreed. When I walked into the private dining room, I noticed their curious, almost accusatory eyes scanned me. Everett had once told me he grew up abroad with many childhood friends still there. These were his old friends, now here to watch the spectacle unfold. I kept my composure, a polite smile gracing my lips, and navigated the evening gracefully. Their glances betrayed subtle hostility. I am still waiting to hear from someone. Preston, on the other hand, was as attentive as ever. He served me food, ladled soup into my bowl, and even peeled shrimp. He stayed close, ensuring I wasn’t left out of the conversation. After dinner, someone suggested heading to a bar, and I went along. Drinks flowed freely; they had started a game of truth or dare long before. When it was my turn, I lost. Travis Holt swirled his drink lazily, his gaze sharp as he asked, “What’s your opinion of your ex?”

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I am a demolition engineer. When the safety officer reported that someone might be in the hills and the blast should be delayed, I pressed the button anyway. Dozens were killed or injured, the site painted in blood and echoing with cries and wails. While my colleagues scrambled to rescue the victims, I calmly scrolled on my phone, telling them not to rush. In my previous life, after the disaster, my childhood friend accused me of negligence. My pregnant wife wept, calling me cruel and accusing me of premeditating it all. The furious villagers beat me to death. And my childhood friend married my wife, cashed in on the insurance payout, and lived a happy life. Then, I opened my eyes and found myself back to the moment when my childhood friend handed me the papers to sign right before the blast. …… Content “Carter, sign here. I’ve checked everything; it’s all good!” That familiar voice pulled me from my daze. I hesitated, staring at the pen and the stack of papers before me. “What’s the holdup, Hobbs? Don’t worry! I’ve double-checked everything. Everyone else has already signed—just waiting on you!” I turned to see the eager smile of Lucas Kendrick, a face I’d known for nearly thirty years. My childhood friend. My subordinate. In my past life, I’d never hesitated to sign whatever Lucas handed me. My signature on these papers had pushed me into an abyss I couldn’t climb. I signed and approved the demolition, and the blast killed dozens on the mountain. The furious families beat me to death. The memory of my previous life, of being battered until my body was unrecognizable, sent a shiver down my spine. This time, I picked up the papers and began reading them thoroughly. Every line of approvals, designs, blueprints, and explosive placements seemed flawless. But why did investigators in my last life conclude that these plans had a fatal flaw that caused the catastrophe? Seeing my hesitation, Lucas chuckled. “Come on, Carter. It’s just paperwork. We’re on a tight schedule here. Don’t tell me you’re considering revising the plan now—it’s been vetted already.” There were less than thirty minutes before the scheduled blast. If the demolition didn’t proceed on time, I’d face scrutiny, the company would suffer heavy financial losses, and I’d jeopardize this hard-fought project that could save us all. In my career, I’d overseen dozens of complex demolition projects. This one was supposed to be straightforward. But the “sure thing” had spiraled into a nightmare. Lucas pulled a bottle from his bag. “Fine, take your time. Meanwhile, I’ll open this up. This is a rare vintage, Carter—aged over a decade. You’ll owe me a toast after this!” As he turned to uncork the bottle, unease prickled in my gut. His casual demeanor almost assumed I’d sign without question. Could there be nothing wrong with these documents? Before I could decide, several colleagues entered the room. They saw me holding the papers and urged me to hurry. After my signature, these documents still required the company seal and additional processing. After combing through them, finding nothing out of place, I reluctantly signed. As Lucas took the papers, his smug expression made my heart skip a beat. Could he…? But the documents needed to be more spotless. I opened my mouth to call him back, but another colleague interrupted. “Carter, it’s time for the Ceremonial Toast.”

The Ceremonial Toast was a pre-demolition ritual we always observed. While some dismissed it as superstition, it had become ingrained in our team’s culture. Everyone would drink a small cup of liquor as part of the ceremony. In my past life, I only had one drink. Yet, the police later found excessive alcohol in my system and concluded that my intoxication contributed to the disaster. This time, I held the cup to my nose. It smelled like ordinary whiskey—a good bottle with a warm, inviting aroma. With my tolerance, one cup wouldn’t even leave me buzzed. But why had the tests only flagged me? Lucas’s expression tensed when I didn’t drink. Was there something wrong with this cup? “Carter, what’s the matter? Too fancy for you? I brought out the good stuff just for today!” Lucas teased. Everyone else turned to look at me in surprise. I’d never turned down a drink, not even the cheap moonshine the crew sometimes brought. “Carter, come on—it’s one drink. I won’t mess up a thing. With your tolerance, this won’t even scratch the surface.” “This whiskey’s smooth, rich, and warm. Just try it, and you’ll want the whole bottle!” Under their eager gazes, I raised the cup and downed it. But I wasn’t done yet. There was still time before the blast. I needed to be thorough. This time, I’d ensure every detail was checked. I instructed the observers to fly the drones over the site again, ensuring no one was in the blast zone. My mind raced, focused on finding the people who’d died in my past life. Back then, I’d died waiting for answers, never knowing where the fatal error had occurred. Not this time. I returned to the Operations Command Center, reviewing the feeds from every camera. As the countdown to the blast ticked closer, sweat beaded on my forehead. Suddenly, it hit me: Could the explosives themselves be tampered with? I rushed out of the command center, heading toward the blast site. Just as I reached the exit, Vivienne appeared, clutching her stomach. “Carter! It hurts! The baby—something’s wrong! You need to take me to the hospital!” I stared at her, my mind churning. Why was she doing this to me? She was six months pregnant; soon, we’d have a child together. How could she be willing to leave that child fatherless? When I didn’t react, Vivienne snapped, “Is your job more important than our child? I’m telling you—I need help! Take me to the hospital!” In my past life, she hadn’t been in any pain. She’d stood at the scene, scolding me. But now, her sudden distress seemed suspicious. Could Lucas have seen through my hesitation and enlisted her to distract me? Vivienne wasn’t supposed to be here. She’d insisted on accompanying me, claiming she wanted to see my work before the baby came. I’d broken protocol to bring her along, trusting her. But when did Lucas and Vivienne start working together? Their desperation to sideline me could only mean one thing: there was something they didn’t want me to find.

Vivienne clutched her belly, crying out in pain. Lucas Kendrick rushed in, his face a mask of concern. “Carter, you need to take Vivi to the hospital! I’ll handle things here. Don’t worry; I’ve got it covered. Just look at her—she’s as pale as a sheet!” Lucas and I had grown up together, always having each other’s backs. It was second nature for us to help each other in any situation. Usually, I’d have considered my wife and our unborn child my top priority. But this time, knowing what lay ahead, I wasn’t about to let my life slip away in confusion again. “Lucas,” I said, fixing him with a steady gaze, “I’ve got a bad feeling about this blast. I need to stay here and oversee it. Please take Vivi to the hospital. I trust you to look after her.” Vivienne’s cries faltered for a brief moment. Lucas also froze before stammering, “Me? Take her? Carter, it’s better if you go. What if something happens to her on the way? I can’t take that kind of responsibility.” Vivienne grabbed my shirt, sobbing hysterically. “Carter Hobbs! I can’t believe you’re this kind of man. What if something happens to our baby? Can you live with that?” I frowned. “I told you before—this site is dangerous. You insisted on coming. You said you wouldn’t blame me no matter what. So why the drama now? I’ll have an assistant take you to the hospital.” I had no time to argue. I had to uncover the problem before the blast. I called for an assistant to drive Vivienne, but she clung to my clothes, refusing to let me go. Frustrated, I pulled off my jacket, left her holding it, and walked out in my T-shirt. Behind me, Vivienne wailed loudly, and Lucas sighed theatrically. “Carter, man, I’m telling you, marriage is about patience. You’ve got to show her more understanding.” I shot him a cold glare. “Funny. You’re not married yet, but you seem to know about relationships and how to handle women.” The memory of their betrayal in my past life made my fists clench involuntarily. I wanted nothing more than to punch them, but I had no proof. The countdown to the blast was already underway. Reports from the site indicated everything was in order. My mind raced as I reviewed what could have caused the accident in my previous life. Where could the critical error have occurred? I walked to the nearest blast point and ordered the safety officer to retrieve the explosives for reinspection. The officer stared at me, bewildered. “We’ve got half an hour left, Carter,” he protested. “Removing the explosives and resetting them will take forever.” Lucas put on a puzzled face. “What’s going on, Carter? You’re acting strange today.” “Follow my orders,” I barked. Reluctantly, the safety officer complied and dug up the explosives. I inspected everything meticulously. The explosives were acceptable. The placement was flawless. I moved to another location and repeated the process. Still, nothing was wrong. By the time I finished, only ten minutes were left until the scheduled detonation. What the hell is going on? I broke out in a cold sweat when the observers reported all clear. The control room buzzed in, urging me to return for final preparations. Hoarsely, I replied, “I’m requesting a delay. I believe there’s a potential danger in proceeding with the blast.”

The room fell silent. Everyone stared at me in shock. Lucas grabbed my sleeve, leaning in to whisper, “Carter, what’s wrong? We’ve gone over everything multiple times. Nothing’s out of place. If you want to delay, you must give a reason.” I met his gaze with a cold stare. Lucas had been the first to accuse me in my past life, claiming that my design was flawed. He had testified that he’d spotted issues during construction but that I had ignored his warnings, leading to the deaths of so many people. Looking back, it was clear that he had orchestrated everything. All those lives—didn’t they haunt him in his dreams? The deputy chief engineer, Harrison Greer, cleared his throat. “Carter, did you find something during your inspection?” I couldn’t respond. What could I say? That in a past life, this seemingly routine demolition had turned catastrophic? But in this life, I had no evidence. A sharp pain twisted in my gut, and I clutched my stomach. Lucas hurried to my side, offering a bottle of antacid and a glass of water. “Stomach acting up again? Here, take this. Relax, Carter. We’ve handled far more complex projects than this one. It’s a walk in the park for us veterans.” I swallowed the medication, and the warm water eased the pain slightly. Harrison spoke again. “Carter, if you’ve identified a problem, I’ll back the delay. But without a concrete reason, I can’t approve it. The schedule is tight, and if we don’t detonate today, the weather forecast will prevent us from doing it for several more days.” Lucas chimed in, trying to smooth things over. “Carter’s been under a lot of stress. Probably just sleep-deprived, right?” The countdown continued. Three minutes left. The control room was silent, all eyes on me. With one minute remaining, my phone buzzed. It was a call from the project’s upper management. The stern voice on the other end demanded to know why the detonation hadn’t started. Under the pressure of his authority, I finally relented. “The blast will proceed as scheduled.” My eyes scanned the faces of my colleagues in the control room—men and women I had trusted in my previous life. Who else among them had been part of my betrayal? When the clock hit zero, I issued the command to detonate. My finger hovered briefly over the button before pressing it. As the blast rang out in waves, I caught a flicker of satisfaction on Lucas’s face. The observers began reporting in. “Point 1, successful detonation. All clear.” “Point 2, successful detonation. All clear.” With each confirmation, my tension mounted. My heart felt like it was about to burst. Finally, after Point 6’s report, the radio fell silent. Point 7 hadn’t checked in. My gut sank. Something had gone wrong.

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My roommate likes to take cold showers on the porch balcony. She claims it helps detox her body and brightens her skin. I tried to warn her: “You really should protect your privacy.” Not only did she ignore me, but she doubled down, accusing me of being jealous of her figure. Eventually, photos of her showering were posted online. Some street punks came to our dorm to harass her, threatening to strip her clothes off. She pointed the finger at me, saying, “It’s her! She’s the shameless one showering out on the balcony!” I was dragged into Willowshade Park by those punks and violated until death. When I opened my eyes again, I was back the same day she started taking cold showers on the porch. …… Content “Juliette, can you grab my body wash? It’s on my desk.” “I’m busy showering. Not convenient.” Lyric Ashcroft, my roommate, was on the porch balcony, soaking in cold water and basking in the sunlight with an ecstatic expression on her face. Harper Hall Dorms wasn’t tall—just three floors. Down below, people came and went, and anyone glancing up could see Lyric’s display fully. But Lyric didn’t care. Instead, she twisted her body even more provocatively as if she wanted the world to admire her figure. The neighboring building housed the boys’ dorm. Some guys deliberately wandered past just to steal a glance at her. Watching Lyric flaunt herself like this made me tremble with rage. I wanted to storm out there and strangle her. The scene was identical to what I had witnessed in my previous life. I suppressed the fury bubbling inside me. Now wasn’t the time to act. Killing her would be too easy. I needed her to suffer the consequences of her actions—that was the only way to quench my burning hatred. Expressionless, I grabbed the bottle of body wash from her desk. So you love showering on the balcony? Fine. You’ll shower to your heart’s content. In my previous life, Lyric had come across a blog post claiming that cold showers followed by sunbathing helped detox the body, brighten the skin, and even achieve a perfect tan. She believed it wholeheartedly and began copying the routine. At first, she took cold showers in the dorm bathroom, wrapping herself in a towel to sunbathe on the porch afterward. That was somewhat understandable. But then she decided it was too much hassle. She installed a makeshift shower on the porch so she could wash and sunbathe simultaneously, claiming it was the most efficient detox method. Sunbathing in itself isn’t a big deal. But our dorm was on the third floor, and the porch had a clear glass railing. Anyone passing by could see her. While most people used the porch to dry clothes, Lyric used it to put herself on display. Worried she’d attract unwanted attention, I once threw a towel over her and dragged her inside. I tried to warn her that showering outside was a privacy risk and could invite trouble from the wrong people. Lyric just sneered and yanked off the towel. “If they’re only looking at me and not anyone else, doesn’t that prove I’m attractive?” she said smugly. “It’s the 21st century, Juliette. Are you some Victorian prude? Get with the times.” “And honestly? You’re just jealous because my body’s better than yours.” I was speechless at her twisted logic and could only let her continue her balcony antics. Eventually, someone uploaded photos of her to the Campus Buzz Board. Though her face was blurred, the rest of her body was straightforward. The photos caused a massive stir. Everyone speculated about who the girl was. Some guys even made crude jokes about bringing telescopes to the dorms for a better view. Soon, groups of male students—and even punks from off-campus—crowded below our dorm. It disrupted everyone’s lives. The uproar angered the female students, who banded together in protest.

The girls ranted in the WhatsApp Group, calling her shameless and indecent and accusing her of trying to steal their boyfriends. Lyric, furious, taunted them back, saying they were plain, unattractive, and lacked charm. “If your boyfriend leaves you for me, that’s your problem, not mine,” she snapped. Someone screenshotted her toxic remarks and shared them on MyCampus Forum and TikTok. The scandal grew, trending online as more and more people took sides. The outrage was fierce. Female students formed the Campus Conduct Task Force, vowing to expose and humiliate the girl in the photos. Before they could act, a gang of punks showed up at our dorm, demanding that the girl in the photos spend the night with them. Sensing danger, Lyric panicked. She pointed at me to save herself, accusing me, “It’s her! She’s the one showering on the balcony!” She even claimed I was the one who made nasty comments in the WhatsApp Group, using my account to post them without my knowledge. Before I could explain, the punks dragged me to Willowshade Park. Desperate, I begged our other roommate, Quinn Langley, to help me. Quinn coldly sided with Lyric. “Juliette, don’t try to blame this on Lyric. Own up to what you’ve done.” “At most, they’ll strip you. It’s not the end of the world.” “You need to take responsibility for your actions.” And so, I was dragged into the woods, violated until death, and left naked on the street like garbage. Passersby spat on my body, calling me disgusting, while my corpse rotted in the open. Lyric, untouched, posted an apology on my behalf, claiming she had tried to help me reform. The comments praised her while cursing me. Lyric became a viral content creator, landing brand deals left and right. Meanwhile, I was left to decay, forgotten and unloved. But fate gave me another chance. This time, I’ll make sure Lyric Ashcroft and Quinn Langley pay. “Juliette? What’s taking so long? Bring it here!” Snapped from my thoughts, I smiled faintly and handed her the body wash. “Here you go. Take your time. You said the longer you wash and sunbathe, the better the results, right? Make it even.” Lyric grabbed the bottle, pleased, and began lathering herself. “Juliette, do you think my skin looks better these days?” she asked, rubbing her arms. I glanced at the bustling crowd below. Morning classes had just ended, and the area was packed. “Definitely,” I said. “Cold showers and sunlight are magical for detoxing. Your skin’s glowing, and you’re more radiant than ever.” Flattered, Lyric became even more enthusiastic. She crouched, spreading her legs to wash herself intimately, entirely oblivious to the phones aimed at her from the boys’ dorm across the way. In my last life, her face was blurred in the photos, allowing her to blame me. Not this time. “Lyric!” I called loudly. “Do you need a towel?” Startled, she turned to look at me. The cameras caught her face, and her name was soon whispered among the growing crowd below. “She’s Lyric Ashcroft?” “Man, what a slut.” “She looks more like a working girl than a student.”

The whispers and stares from the crowd below reached Lyric’s ears, and her face turned pale. “Juliette! You did this on purpose, didn’t you? All those people downstairs—are you trying to humiliate me?” So, she does feel shame. It’s good to know she’s not entirely shameless. Maybe her attempt to pin everything on me in my previous life wasn’t just an accident. Feigning innocence, I said, “I was just worried you’d catch a chill from staying out here too long. Why would I try to humiliate you?” “You’re so magnetic, Lyric. Even showering gets you an audience. Just look at those guys—they can’t take their eyes off you.” “If I had your perfect body, I’d probably shower here too.” The words tasted bitter, and I barely stopped myself from gagging. Lyric, however, was flattered. She gave a smug, slight hum and kept on washing. “Well, of course, I have that effect.” Then she gave me a once-over, her tone dripping with disdain. “You? Please. You’re flat as a board. Even if you stripped naked, no one would bother looking.” I curled my lips into a faint smile but didn’t respond. Go ahead, Lyric. Laugh while you can. Her photos were plastered all over the Campus Buzz Board by the next day. The accompanying comments were merciless: “Hey, girl, how about maintaining a little dignity? Stop flaunting yourself.” “Does the college not have showers? Why the balcony?” “Most of us have partners here. Are you trying to tempt someone’s boyfriend?” “Cover yourself up. Don’t you feel gross?” Zooming in on the photo, I saw it was like in my last life—Lyric crouched, washing herself intimately, her face blurred out. The post caused an uproar in the WhatsApp Group, with some students even overhearing her name being mentioned near the dorms. Female students were outraged, calling her behavior disgraceful and immoral. The male students, meanwhile, reveled in the chaos, egging it on. “Free show, you all. Time to call up the squad!” “She’s a Modern Saint! Who needs to pay outside when she’s offering it for free here?” “Y’all just jealous of her figure.” The group was divided entirely. I casually handed my phone to Lyric, feigning concern. “Lyric, maybe it’s time to stop showering on the balcony.” “Sure, your skin looks amazing and gorgeous, but this kind of attention isn’t great. People are upset.” “Why not shower downstairs and come back up to sunbathe? Same results.” Lyric, seething as she scrolled through the comments, hurled my phone to the floor, then stormed around the dorm in a rage. “You conniving witch! Those jealous cows can’t stand that I’m prettier than them!” “They’re just ugly! Picking on me for no reason!” “Yes, I have an amazing body. Yes, I’m stunning! No matter how much they hate me, it doesn’t change the facts!” I calmly picked up my phone and patted her shoulder. “You’re right, you know. You’re just taking a shower. You’ve done nothing wrong.” “And look, you’ve got so many guys defending you. That’s your charm working its magic.” Lyric’s anger subsided slightly. “But maybe it’s better not to fight them,” I continued, gently fanning the flames. “Let it go?” Lyric took the bait, stomping her foot. “Let it go? Why should I? I’ve done nothing wrong! They’re the ones starting this!” She snatched at my phone, but I’d already set a password. “Stupid phone!” she fumed. I quickly reclaimed it. If she used my phone again, I’d be in trouble.

Frustrated, Lyric stormed off to Quinn Langley for help. “Quinn! Juliette is the worst!” “She won’t defend me in the group chat, even after all the hate I’m getting. And she won’t let me borrow her phone!” “If I could log in, I’d handle it myself!” She added a pitiful pout, her eyes glistening with fake tears. Naturally, Quinn fell for it. Quinn, our dorm leader and head of the college arts committee, loved bossing people around. She already disliked me for refusing to run her errands, which had made her and Lyric inseparable allies. If Lyric wanted something, Quinn was the first to help. She even bought Lyric the shower kit for her balcony antics. As expected, Quinn took Lyric’s side. “Juliette, what’s the big deal? Just let her use your phone!” “If you won’t speak up for her, fine, but setting a password? Seriously?” I smirked, grabbed Quinn’s phone, and handed it to Lyric. “You two are so close—why don’t you use her phone?” “Go ahead, Lyric. Quinn’s in the group chat, too. Use hers to respond.” “Show them who’s boss.” Quinn froze between anger and reluctance as Lyric gleefully took her phone. Lyric’s eyes gleamed as she launched into the chat: “Wow, so sensitive. If you’re that insecure about your age, maybe consider some cosmetic treatments.” “Can’t keep your boyfriend interested? Maybe that’s your problem for being boring and ugly.” “Let’s face it—you’re just jealous. Even if you stripped down, no one would care.” The chat exploded. Lyric felt vindicated, but Quinn began to panic as her notifications piled up with angry messages and threats. “Why’d you let her use my phone?!” she hissed. Feigning innocence, I shrugged. “Quinn, how could you say that? She’s your best friend. Why wouldn’t you let her use it?” Quinn fell silent, forced to leave the group in humiliation. But it didn’t end there. That night, the group chat leaked Lyric’s inflammatory messages and her uncensored photos online. By the following day, her antics on the porch balcony and her nasty comments had gone viral, making the rounds on TikTok and MyCampus Forum. That afternoon, our dorm door rattled with angry knocks. A swarm of female students crowded outside, their shouts echoing through the hall: “Get out here, you trashy little skank! You’re done!” “You had plenty to say in the chat—why are you hiding now?” “We’ll make sure you regret it!” Lyric turned pale as a sheet. From my bed, I stretched lazily, a smirk tugging at my lips. “Lyric sounds like they’re here for you,” I said. “Shouldn’t you go see what they want?” I nudged her lightly. She shrank back, trembling, and clung to Quinn. Lyric was all bark and no bite—a coward through and through. “Juliette, I’m scared! Can’t you check for me?” Like in my previous life, she tried pushing me into the fire.

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Love Misguided, A Broken Mirror Beyond Repair Brief My pregnant wife ignored my protests and went on an overseas trip with her high school sweetheart. She posted on Facebook, “Logan, even if we can’t be together as husband and wife, I’ll still give birth to your child.” The picture? The two of them were holding hands and snuggled up together. I commented under the post, “If you’re this in love, isn’t it time to divorce me and be with him instead?” …… Content After posting my comment, I didn’t waste any time. I contacted the Postpartum Care Center, where I’d previously booked and canceled the reservation. I also called Summit Ridge Women’s Clinic and canceled the appointments I had set up there. For the countless baby supplies I’d bought in advance, I either returned what I could or gave away the rest. When I was done, I let out a long breath of relief. I called up a few close friends and invited them out for drinks. I needed the distraction. We were laughing and enjoying ourselves when my phone buzzed. I glanced at the screen, and my smile disappeared. It was Maddie Harper. The room grew quiet as my friends noticed my shift in mood. One suggested, “Milton, is that Maddie calling? Maybe you should head home before she gets upset. ” “Yeah, we can call it a night here,” chimed another. They meant well. Since marrying Maddie, I haven’t spent much time with my friends. Whenever I did, Maddie would call them my “useless drinking buddies” and blame them for anything that went wrong. Everyone knew how overbearing she could be. But I hit the decline button right before them and forced a smile onto my face. “Forget about her. Let’s keep going.” “Milton, maybe you should—” Dex started, concern in his voice. I cut him off, “I know you’re all looking out for me, but I’ll tell you this now: once Maddie returns, I’m divorcing her. She’s not going to be your sister-in-law anymore.” The group fell silent, exchanging uneasy glances but not saying another word. My phone buzzed again. After hesitating, I answered this time. Maddie’s sharp voice came through on the other end of the line, furious. “Milton Vaughn! Who do you think you are ignoring my calls? If this happens again, you’ll sleep on the couch for a month!” I stayed silent as she launched into another tirade. “Tell me this, Milton,” she demanded. “Why did you cancel the Postpartum Care Center? If they hadn’t called me, I’d still be in the dark! Are you even planning to be this baby’s father? If you’re not, don’t worry—plenty of men love to step up. The line of guys wanting to date me back in the day could’ve stretched to France!” When Maddie first got pregnant, I’d treated her like a queen. Whatever she asked for, I made it happen. I booked the best Postpartum Care Center in Napa Valley for $10,000 a month without a second thought. I loved her. I wanted her to feel cherished. But she used my devotion as a license to trample all over me. “Hey, are you listening?” Her shrill voice pulled me from my thoughts. “Yeah, I’m listening. What’s the problem?” I asked calmly. “The problem is, you’re going to fix this,” she snapped. “Rebook the Care Center. And send me another $10,000. Logan and I want to stay here for a couple more days.” Her words made me laugh out loud. “Maddie, have you lost your damn mind?”

The moment those words left my mouth, Maddie’s fury erupted. “Milton Vaughn, what did you just say? Repeat it, I dare you! Do you want me to divorce you?” This wasn’t the first time she’d used divorce as a threat. It was her go-to move, no matter how small the argument. In the past, I always caved. I’d apologize, take the blame, and do whatever it took to smooth things. I thought that if I compromised enough, we’d eventually find happiness. But things never worked out that way. I took a deep breath, lifted my drink, and said calmly, “Alright. Let’s get divorced.” Then I hung up and turned off my phone. My friends stared at me, stunned. “Why are you all frozen? Let’s toast—to my freedom!” That broke the tension. Laughter filled the room as they raised their glasses with me. The drinks flowed, and I felt truly happy for the first time in years. Back at home, I collapsed into bed, the buzz of alcohol and freedom making me smile. For years, my life revolved around Maddie’s demands. She controlled everything, and I let her. I gave up smoking and drinking for her. I handed over my entire paycheck every month. I cooked, cleaned, and ran our household so she could play “princess.” But somewhere along the way, she forgot she wasn’t royalty. When I woke up the following day, loud banging echoed through the apartment. At first, I thought someone was renovating. But as the sound continued, I realized someone was at my door. I didn’t need to guess who. I took my time, pouring a glass of water as the voices outside grew louder. “Milton Vaughn, open this door right now!” Dolly Carter’s sharp tone cut through the noise. “How dare you cancel the Postpartum Care Center and the hospital appointments? Are you even human?” Her voice grated on my nerves, but I was used to it. Whenever Maddie and I had even the slightest fight, her parents would rush over to scold me. When I finally opened the door, I was greeted by their furious faces. Without waiting for an invitation, they pushed past me into the apartment. “You better fix this immediately!” Dolly demanded. “Maddie’s coming home tonight, and everything needs to be in place.” “Is she bringing Logan Reese back with her?” I asked coolly. “What are you implying? Maddie’s coming back alone. Stop spreading nonsense!” Dolly shot back defensively. “Oh, and I heard you got a $15,000 bonus at work,” Walt added. “When’s Maddie getting that?” I let out a small laugh, shaking my head. It was going to be a long day.

I chuckled to myself. My father-in-law, Walt Carter, sure had his ear to the ground—he even knew about the bonus I’d received from my latest project. “So, when are you giving that money to my daughter?” Dolly, my mother-in-law, chimed in, her tone dripping with entitlement. “You must have misunderstood,” I replied flatly. “I’m filing for divorce from Maddie.” “Divorce?!” Dolly’s face twisted in shock. “Your darling daughter announced on Facebook that the baby she’s carrying belongs to her high school sweetheart, Logan. Whoever the father is, let him handle the hospital bills and the Postpartum Care Center,” I said, my tone cold. “You’re talking nonsense! That baby is yours!” Walt snapped, his voice rising in anger. Dolly, of course, doubled down. “Even if the baby isn’t yours, so what? You’re the one who married Maddie. If you truly love her, you should accept everything about her!” “And besides,” she added, crossing her arms, “that baby will take your last name anyway. So what exactly is your problem?” Listening to their absurd arguments, I realized trying to reason with them wastes time. I grabbed my car keys and left the house, ignoring their shouts as they trailed behind me. When they caught up in the driveway, I sighed and told them what they wanted to hear: “I’m going to sort out the Postpartum Care Center now.” That finally got them to back off. “You’d better,” Dolly said smugly. “After all, Maddie’s been carrying this baby for nine months. You can’t drop the ball now.” I didn’t bother responding and drove off. Once I was clear of the house, I called my former college classmate, Autumn Quinn, who now lived in Asheville, North Carolina. When she picked up, her voice lit up with excitement. “Milton! You finally agreed! We’ve been waiting for the perfect leader for this project, and you’re it. The salary and benefits package we can offer you is top-notch!” Autumn had been trying to recruit me for months, but I’d always turned her down. I’d stayed because I thought Maddie and I were happy—and because she was pregnant. But now, I had no reason to stay. “Count me in,” I said decisively. She paused, catching something in my tone. “Milton, is everything okay? Do you need help with something?” I chuckled softly. “No, nothing like that.” She didn’t push, but her excitement returned as she promised to arrange an interview. “Let me know if you need anything else,” she added warmly. “Thanks, Autumn.” We met in college when I was a junior and she was a freshman. We belonged to the same college society, and over time, we became good friends. After I got married, though, we drifted apart. With the interview set up, I turned my attention to the next step: consulting a lawyer to draft a divorce agreement. It was evening by the time everything was arranged, and I was ready to grab dinner when my phone rang again. It was Maddie. “Where the hell have you been?!” she demanded. “I’ve called you a dozen times, and you didn’t answer. I had to take a cab home, Milton—a cab! Do you know how mad that makes me?”

Maddie’s voice dripped with anger as if taking a cab home was the most significant hardship she’d ever faced. Looking back, I realized I’d spoiled her too much. She wasn’t born into wealth or privilege, but I treated her like a princess, and over time, she began to believe she was one. “Sorry,” I said calmly. “I was busy and forgot.” “Busy? What’s your excuse? You don’t care about me at all! Get your ass home and apologize right now!” “Oh, and don’t forget to transfer the $10,000. My mom said you already withdrew it,” she added. I murmured an acknowledgment and hung up without another word. When I got home, Maddie was sitting on the couch, her pregnant belly prominent. But she wasn’t alone. Sitting next to her was Logan Reese, her high school sweetheart. Across the room, Dolly and Walt sat like they owned the place. “Ah, everyone’s here,” I said, stepping inside. All eyes turned to me, but Maddie was the first to speak. “If Logan hadn’t been kind enough to bring me home, I don’t know what would’ve happened,” she said, her voice laced with accusation. “Do you even care about the baby I’m carrying?” “Logan brought the baby’s father home. Isn’t that what he’s supposed to do?” I replied evenly, looking directly at Logan. His eyes widened in shock. “What are you talking about? What do you mean ‘the baby’s father’?” I handed him a stack of invoices. “Postpartum Care Center: $10,000. Summit Ridge Women’s Clinic VIP delivery package: $8,000. Baby supplies: $5,000. Total: $23,000. You’ll need to make those payments at the hospital soon.” Everyone froze, the weight of my words sinking in. “What’s that supposed to mean, Milton?” Maddie finally asked, her voice rising. “It means I’m divorcing you. And whoever got you pregnant can handle the rest,” I said, pulling out the divorce papers I’d prepared. “Divorce?!” Maddie’s eyes blazed. “You think you can just leave me like this? If anyone’s divorcing anyone, it’s me! Logan’s better than you’ll ever be, Milton. Once we’re done, I’ll marry him.” She smiled sweetly at Logan, oblivious to the horrified expression on his face. “Maddie, are you out of your mind?!” Logan blurted out, taking a step back. “Logan, don’t be shy,” she said, still grinning. “We’ve been waiting for this. Now’s our chance to finally be together.” Even Dolly jumped in. “Logan, you’re getting a wonderful girl here. My Maddie is one of a kind!” “And the baby will have your name, of course,” Walt added. But Logan’s expression darkened. “Maddie,” he said firmly, “we were just having fun. I’m not marrying you.” Maddie’s jaw dropped. “What? You’re joking, right?” He shook his head, stepping further away. “You thought I was serious? Maddie, you’re married! And honestly, who knows who else you’ve been with?” The color drained from her face, and her parents stared in stunned silence. I watched the scene unfold, saying nothing, a cold smile tugging at the corners of my mouth.

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