Author: Momo Chan

Five years after I got out of prison, I saw him again. Nicholas Kim. His eyes fell on the empty leg of my trousers, and his voice trembled. “Ava… your… your leg…” He probably never imagined that the ballet champion who had once become an overnight sensation now needed a crutch just to walk. “If you were out, why didn’t you come find me? Do you have any idea how worried I was…?” His fiancée, my former best friend, nestled against his chest, her eyes red. “Ava, you were so thoughtless. Back then, to make it up to you, Nicholas arranged for all the city’s media to be there. He was going to propose to you in front of everyone, but you just vanished without a word, humiliating him completely.” “I only married him to protect what little dignity he had left…” Had to? I couldn’t help but let out a soft, humorless laugh. I glanced at her swollen belly. “So I suppose you had to let him knock you up, too?” “And I suppose you had to toy with Sebastian Kim’s affections back then?” “And you and Nicholas had to conspire to have my face altered and send me to that monster’s bed?!” 1 The autumn wind was cold, cutting straight through my thin, worn-out coat. Nicholas’s brow was furrowed, a storm of emotions in his eyes—frustration, surprise—but not a single flicker of guilt. When I was done, he let out a sigh, his tone dripping with condescension. “Alright, what’s past is past. Since you’re okay, just come home with me.” He gestured to the stretch limousine parked at the curb, his voice leaving no room for argument. “Get in the car.” I didn’t move. I just kept quietly wiping the grease from the diner tabletop. In the five years since my release, this was the only place that had been willing to take me in, to give me a job and a meal. But in Nicholas’s eyes, my silence was defiance. “Ava, how long are you going to keep this up?” He took two steps closer, towering over me. “Look at you, this pathetic state you’re in. How is this worthy of the name Mrs. Kim?” “Are you going to get in the car yourself, or do I have to have my bodyguards escort you?” Before I could answer, two men in black suits had their hands on my shoulders. I didn’t struggle. I simply gave the diner owner a deep bow, then turned and got into the car. The heat was blasting inside, the air thick with the scent of expensive cologne. “This is a supplementary card with no credit limit. The PIN is your birthday.” He tossed a black card onto the seat in front of me, as if tossing a coin to a beggar. “And I’ve arranged for an apartment for you downtown. It’s fully furnished, you can move in right away.” He expected me to be grateful. All I felt was disgust. I reached out with my trembling hand—a permanent tremor left after my bones were shattered in prison—picked up the card, snapped it in half right in front of him, and tossed the pieces out the window. Nicholas’s face froze, the cracks appearing in his mask of superiority. “I can’t accept these. I don’t want them.” The anticipation in his eyes instantly morphed into rage. “Ava, don’t be ungrateful!” “You were locked up for three years. You’re completely out of touch with the world. Who else would want you besides me?” The car drove through our old university campus. Chloe, who had been silent until now, suddenly spoke up. “Ava, do you remember? Sophomore year, you said you wanted to have your own little light in this city someday.” “Now that Nicky has given you a whole apartment, what more could you possibly want?” Want? I stared out the window, my mind flashing back to a winter’s day in my second year of prison. In the communal showers, a group of inmates held my head under the icy water, my scalp screaming in pain as they yanked my hair. They forced me to watch the “wedding of the century” on a small, flickering television. Chloe, in a million-dollar gown, nestled in his arms. He looked down at her with a doting smile, telling the world she was the one true love of his life. And I was choking on dirty water, enduring the humiliation and torture. Because Sebastian Kim had paid off the guards to make sure I “shared in their joy” on their big day. The car stopped in front of a modern villa. Their love nest. Nicholas pulled me out of the car, gesturing towards the walk-in closet in the entryway, filled to the brim with couture. “These were all custom-made to your size. I had them ready for you before you were even released.” I stood at the doorway, refusing to go in. The house was filled with the overwhelming scent of gardenias, Chloe’s favorite. It was cloying, nauseating. “I’m leaving.” The moment I turned, he grabbed my wrist, his grip like steel. Nicholas suddenly lost control, his eyes red with fury. “Ava! I haven’t even held it against you for humiliating me by leaving like that! What more do you want?” “I’ve never bowed my head to anyone in my life! Do I have to get on my knees and beg for you to forgive me?” I looked at him, slowly prying his fingers from my wrist, and took a cold step back. “Stop acting, Nicholas.” “You only did all that because your company was about to go public. You wanted to create a ‘devoted husband’ persona for yourself.” “Don’t wrap your selfishness and calculation in a pretty bow and call it love.” “It’s disgusting.” Nicholas froze, his expression shifting from shock to pure rage. He pointed a trembling finger at me, his voice hoarse. “Get out! Ava, get the hell out!” “And when you’re starving on the streets, don’t you dare come crawling back to me like a dog!” I didn’t look back. I just walked into the darkness. Behind me, I heard the sound of a vase shattering, and his hysterical, furious roars. 2 That night, I was homeless. With only a few hundred dollars in my pocket, I found a seedy motel in a run-down part of the city. Fifty bucks a night. Lying on the yellowed sheets, I looked at my reflection in the cracked mirror—hollow cheeks, a face etched with a weariness far beyond my years. I was thirty, but I looked like an old woman. The former beauty of the university’s finance department, now just a crippled ex-con. I gave a bitter laugh and pulled the thin blanket over my head. The next morning, the diner owner called. “Ava, honey… you don’t need to come in tomorrow.” “Why?” I shot up in bed. The owner sighed. “Someone put the word out. As long as you’re working on this street, none of us will pass our next fire inspection.” “Don’t make this hard for me, kid. I’ve got a family to feed.” He hung up. I gripped the phone, my knuckles white. Nicholas. No one else had that kind of power, and no one else was that petty. I didn’t go begging to him. Instead, I spent the entire day at employment agencies and job fairs. The result was exactly what I expected. The moment they ran my ID, the friendly smiles would vanish. “Sorry, we don’t hire people with a criminal record.” “Kim Industries has made it very clear. Please don’t put us in a difficult position.” By sunset, I was sitting on a park bench, gnawing on the last half of a stale bread roll. A red Ferrari pulled up in front of me. The window rolled down, revealing Chloe’s face, hidden behind oversized sunglasses. She looked at me, a sarcastic smirk on her lips. “Hungry?” “Pride doesn’t fill your stomach, does it?” “Oh, Ava. Just be a good little dog for me, and I can make sure you get a meal. Otherwise…” I stared at her, my stomach twisting into a knot. Not from hunger. From rage. But I needed money. I needed to survive. “Fine.” Chloe smiled. “See? That wasn’t so hard. You were born to be on a leash.” She took me to a charity gala. No gown, no time to clean up. I stood among the city’s elite in my cheap, dusty coat, a ghost at the feast. Nicholas was there, laughing and talking with a group of investors. Chloe led me to stand behind them. “Well, well, if it isn’t the former finance department flower.” “I heard she took the fall for her ex-boyfriend and did three years?” “Still trailing after Mr. Kim, I see. Such a loyal pet.” The air was thick with whispers and mocking laughter. I looked at Nicholas. He knew the whole truth. I waited, hoping he would say something, anything, to stop them. He didn’t. He was too busy schmoozing with those investors over a multi-million dollar real estate deal. He just shot me a look, a silent command to endure it. One of the men, drunk, staggered over and wrapped an arm around my waist, his hand roaming freely. “Nicky, is this your new little bitch? She’s a bit old, but not bad to look at. Got a certain… flavor.” “How about you let me have a taste tonight? I’ll make it worth your while.” The whole room erupted in laughter. Nicholas took a sip of his wine, his voice casual. “If you like her, Mr. Zhang, you can have her kneel and lick your shoes.” Looking at the man who had once worshipped the ground I walked on, I felt nothing but a bone-deep chill. I turned, took the glass of red wine from Mr. Zhang’s hand, and smiled. “Mr. Zhang, is this wine any good?” He blinked, confused. “What?” SPLASH! A full glass of red wine drenched his greasy, leering face. The room fell silent. Mr. Zhang yelped, stumbling back and clutching his eyes. CRACK! A sharp, stinging slap landed on my cheek. Nicholas’s chest was heaving with fury. “Ava! Are you insane?!” “Do you have any idea how much that deal was worth?!” I tasted blood in my mouth. That slap shattered a decade of devotion, a final, brutal awakening. I wiped a smear of blood from the corner of my mouth and looked at the apoplectic Nicholas, my smile more painful than any tears. “Well, Mr. Kim. It’s a good thing that deal is dead.” 3 With that, I turned and walked away. A storm had broken out, the rain hammering down, each drop a tiny needle against my skin. The old injury in my leg flared up. It had been broken with a steel pipe in prison. Even with the amputation, the phantom pain lingered. On rainy days like this, it felt like a million ants gnawing at my bones. I dragged my broken body back to the motel and collapsed onto the bed, a high fever quickly taking hold. Curled up in the musty blankets, my consciousness fading, I thought I was going to die in this forgotten corner of the world. My phone rang. It was Nicholas. “Ava, stop playing dead.” His voice was a mixture of anxiety and impatience. “Get to the villa now. Chloe’s kitten, Snowball, is missing.” “You were always good at finding things. Get your ass over here and help her look for it!” My throat was raw from the fever, my voice a hoarse whisper. “I have a fever. I can’t move.” A cold laugh on the other end of the line. “A fever? Since when did you become so delicate?” “You used to run halfway across the city with a 104-degree fever just to bring me a late-night snack.” “And now you can’t even find a cat? Is it not enough money?” “You have thirty minutes. If you’re not here, I’ll have someone dig up your parents’ graves and scatter their ashes in the sewer!” He hung up. I clutched the hot phone, my eyes dry. He knew my weaknesses too well. I dragged myself out of bed, swallowed two fever reducers, and stumbled out into the torrential rain. By the time I reached the villa, I was soaked to the bone, my face as white as a sheet. Chloe stood in the living room, wrapped in a cashmere blanket. She looked at me with disgust. “What took you so long? What’s that smell? Stay away from me.” She pointed to the second-floor terrace. “The maids heard something on the roof. It’s too slippery for them to go up. You go check.” It was a sloped, glass-tiled roof, slick with rain. It was impossible to stand on. “My leg hurts. I can’t go up there.” Chloe sneered. “Ava, if my kitten gets sick from the rain, not even ten of your miserable lives would be enough to pay for it.” “Go.” I gritted my teeth and climbed the ladder. The terrace was empty. There was no cat. As I turned to go back, a glass tile under my foot came loose. I fell, hard, onto the concrete below. A rusty nail, sticking out of a wooden plank, pierced straight through the stump of my amputated leg. The sound brought them running. Nicholas and Chloe rushed up to the terrace and immediately spotted the Persian kitten cowering in a corner. “Snowball!” Chloe cried, scooping the cat into her arms. Nicholas beamed with relief. It was a long moment before they even noticed me, lying in a pool of my own blood. No panic. No concern. Only annoyance. “You can’t even do one simple thing right. Now you’ve made a mess of the terrace.” “What if you scared Chloe?” He waved a dismissive hand at the family doctor who had been summoned. “Just patch her up. As long as she doesn’t die here.” The searing pain brought a horrifying clarity. I looked at the man I had loved my entire youth, and the last flicker of light in my eyes died. I pushed the doctor away, propped myself up on my hands, and gritted my teeth, forcing myself to stand. Blood dripped from my trouser leg. I bent down and gripped the nail embedded in my flesh. Squelch! I pulled it out myself. Blood sprayed, splattering onto the hem of Chloe’s expensive white silk skirt. She shrieked, stumbling back, the kitten in her arms hissing in alarm. “This skirt was custom-made! Do you have any idea how much it costs to replace it?!” Nicholas’s face was cold. “Apologize!” My body was trembling with pain, but I started to laugh. I reached my blood-soaked hand into my pocket and pulled out a small jade pendant, its surface worn smooth with time. Ten years ago, he had climbed a sacred mountain on his knees, his skin raw and bleeding, to get this for me. A charm for my safety. He had promised me then that he would give me the world. Later, when he became a tycoon, he threw it in a storage unit. I was the one who found it, who cherished it all these years. It was a testament to my love, and to my foolishness. “You’re right, Chloe.” “I can’t afford your skirt. Just like I can’t afford to get back the ten years I wasted.” I held up the jade pendant and smashed it on the ground. Crack! The jade shattered into a dozen pieces. Nicholas stared, a flicker of genuine panic in his eyes for the first time. “What are you doing?” “That was our promise! How could you?!” “A promise?” I shook my head, my smile a tragic mask. “These ten years… just consider me a joke.” He dropped to his knees in the mud and rain, frantically trying to piece the fragments back together. But some things, once broken, can never be made whole again. I pointed to my bleeding leg, my voice unnervingly calm. “This leg… I lost it in prison. For you.” “From now on, we’re even.” With that, I turned away, not giving them another glance. I dragged my mangled, bleeding leg down the stairs, one step at a time. Behind me, Nicholas roared like a caged animal. “If you walk out that door today, don’t you ever come back!” “I’ll blacklist you from every industry in this city! You won’t even be able to beg for scraps!” “Come back! Get on your knees and apologize!” I didn’t turn back. I didn’t stop. The rain was still falling, but I no longer felt the cold. The moment I stepped out of the villa gates, I took a deep breath. This time, there was no lingering affection, only release. Goodbye, Nicholas. Goodbye forever.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “580620”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

To save money, I bought a used tablet online. The seller I met for the in-person exchange was a pretty young college student. “Ma’am, this is the latest model. If my boyfriend hadn’t just bought me a huge high-rise apartment as our marital home and built me a custom media room, I would never dream of selling it!” Seeing the pure happiness radiating from her face, I couldn’t help but think of Liam. Once his company’s big project finally launched, we could move out of our tiny rental and buy a place of our own. “He also said no old things in the new house, so I have a lot more stuff to get rid of. You can follow my account and contact me if you see anything you need.” “Oh, my boyfriend’s here!” The girl, Jenna, waved her arm excitedly. I turned to look. A black Maybach was pulling up to the curb. The window rolled down, revealing a familiar face. Our eyes met, and we both froze. The man in the driver’s seat was none other than my boyfriend, Liam. 1 “I’m interning nearby, and he insists on driving me to and from work every day. He’s so worried something might happen to me.” “I told him he’s overreacting, what could possibly happen to me on my regular commute? But he just won’t listen.” I stood there, listening to Jenna’s gleeful chatter, a chilling numbness spreading through my body. A flash of panic crossed Liam’s face, quickly replaced by a look that was both a warning and a threat. His gaze fell to the tablet in my hands. “It’s just a tablet. Why didn’t you buy a new one?” Right. It was just a tablet. But I couldn’t bring myself to buy a new one, because I was trying to save every penny so we could have a home together sooner. Jenna shot me an apologetic look and playfully tapped Liam on the shoulder. “Just because you’re rich doesn’t mean everyone is.” “Besides, my tablet is practically new. If you hadn’t insisted on buying me a better one, I wouldn’t be selling it.” She turned back to me. “Don’t mind him. My boyfriend only ever buys new things. If he doesn’t want something anymore, he just throws it out. He doesn’t understand the secondhand market at all.” “I was going to rent a place near my internship, but he said he didn’t like the idea of me living in a pre-owned apartment, so the very next day, he bought me a new one!” “And now he won’t let me use any of my old stuff. My clothes and shoes have to be from the latest season, and my electronics have to be the newest models. He even got on my case for selling this tablet, said I don’t know how to save money.” Jenna gave Liam a mock-reproachful look. Her words were a complaint, but her face was aglow with happiness. But I remembered. I remembered when Liam and I were crammed into our tiny rental. To save money, all the furniture and appliances I bought were used. I remembered haggling shamelessly with sellers just to save a few dozen dollars. I had felt so embarrassed, but those few dozen dollars meant I could add a pork chop to Liam’s lunchbox. Back then, he would hold me, his eyes full of pain and guilt. “Chloe,” he’d said, “one day, when I make it, I promise I’ll get you the best house.” But eight years had passed, and I was still living in a rental, still using secondhand things. And he, without my knowledge, had bought another woman a brand-new home. Jenna’s words were like a gaping hole torn open in my chest. A cold wind blew through, freezing me to the bone. Liam glanced at me and cleared his throat. “Let’s get going. Don’t we still have to buy new furniture?” Jenna paused, then stamped her foot playfully. “Oh, right! I almost forgot. If you need anything else used, just let me know!” As Jenna walked around to the passenger side, Liam took the opportunity to lean in and whisper to me, “I’ll explain when I get home tonight.” The Maybach sped away, leaving me in a cloud of dust. I could just make out their conversation through the open window. “So what are we buying?” “Whatever you want. Only the best is good enough for my little princess.” I looked down at the tablet in my hands and suddenly felt like a complete joke. So, in Liam’s eyes, I was the one who only deserved used things. I walked home like a zombie, not even noticing when it started to rain. It was an old, run-down building, with terrible security. Not long ago, I’d been harassed by a man on my way home from working late. I was so terrified that day that every late night at the office since had been filled with dread. But I never moved. Because this place was close to Liam’s office. It meant he could sleep in for an extra hour, even if it meant I had to commute for two. But while I was living in fear, he was playing chauffeur for someone else. I sat on the sofa for hours, and then I turned on the tablet. The moment the screen lit up, I froze. 2 Jenna was still logged into her social media. The screen was on her latest post. It was a selfie of her lying in bed. Beside her, half of Liam’s face was visible. The caption read: [Found the perfect mattress! So expensive, but hubby’s paying! He says I deserve the best. Thanks, honey!] I scrolled down, torturing myself with post after post. Candlelit dinners, morning runs, vacations together… The one that stung the most was a travel vlog. It was from Lover’s Isle, a place I had told Liam I dreamed of visiting. Last year, he had asked if I wanted to go, but I’d calculated the cost and said no. He had just told me the day before that the company’s profits were down. The vlog was filmed during that exact time. The place of my dreams… he had taken someone else there. A surge of pure rage welled up from the pit of my stomach. I grabbed my phone and dialed his number. Again and again, he declined the call. My damp clothes were chilling me to the bone. I curled up on the sofa, a sharp, stabbing pain in my heart. In the middle of the night, I woke up burning with a fever. Through a hazy fog, I saw him walk in. He frowned at me, draping his coat over my shivering body. “Why are you sleeping out here? You know your immune system is weak. Are you trying to get sick?” I ripped the coat off and stared at him, my eyes burning. “It’s not what you think. Jenna is my mom’s friend’s daughter. My family asked me to take care of her.” I let out a hoarse laugh. “Take care of her? How? In bed? Or in a river-view penthouse?” His face flushed with the anger of being caught. “Don’t be ridiculous. Jenna is innocent and naive, she’s just starting out. The world is a complicated place, of course I have to look out for her.” “And what about me? Don’t I need to be looked out for?” He stared at me, a look of genuine confusion in his eyes. “You’ve been working for years. What do you need looking out for?” There was a time when all I had was a bad cramp, and he would risk getting reprimanded to bang on the dorm supervisor’s window in the middle of the night just to bring me medicine. And now, he said I didn’t need looking out for. Jenna was a recent graduate who needed care. What was I doing when I had just graduated? I was with him, meeting with clients, being forced to drink until I was sick. And because I didn’t want to jeopardize his project, I suffered in silence and never told him. I couldn’t hold it in anymore. I shoved him, hard. “Liam, in your eyes, do I just not need anything? Do you have any idea…” He grabbed my hand, his voice laced with impatience. “Will you just stop? Why are you picking a fight with a kid who just graduated?” His words sent a wracking cough through my body. He reached out and touched my forehead, and his expression darkened. “You’re burning up, don’t you know that?” He swept me into his arms and rushed me to the hospital. I drifted off into a feverish sleep. When I opened my eyes again, I was in a hospital bed with an IV in my arm. Liam was sitting by my side. The scene was so painfully familiar, a ghost of our past, and my eyes began to sting. He met my gaze and was about to speak when his phone rang. He glanced at the caller ID and stepped out into the hallway to answer. A tearful voice drifted in. “Liam, I was putting a doll away in the closet, and I cut my hand. I’m so scared!” “How did you do that? Don’t be scared, I’m on my way.” He took two steps, then remembered I was still lying in bed. “Jenna cut her hand. I’m going to go check on her. You… just get some sleep. I’ll come back to see you later.” I watched his back disappear through the doorway, and the tears I’d been holding back soaked into my pillow. In that moment, I understood just how thoroughly I had lost. Later, I was jolted awake by a terrifying feeling of suffocation. I couldn’t reach the call button. I fumbled for my phone and dialed Liam. It rang a few times before he picked up. “Help… me…” Liam’s voice was annoyed. “It’s just a cold, what could possibly be wrong? Jenna cut her hand, I have to take her to get a shot. Stop making a scene!” The line went dead. As the dial tone droned on, I lost consciousness. 3 When I opened my eyes, a wave of soreness and a lingering sense of breathlessness washed over me. A doctor was standing by my bed, a complicated look in his eyes. “Ms. Noth, you had an allergic reaction to the medication in the middle of the night, which caused you to stop breathing. We were lucky we got to you in time.” “But we confirmed with the man who brought you in. He said you didn’t have any allergies, so we administered the drug. This is no joking matter, you could have died!” My fists clenched, a dull ache spreading through my chest. Liam. He didn’t even remember my allergies anymore. My phone screen lit up. I answered, and Jenna’s sharp voice cut through the line. “Why is your number in his phone? You already knew him, didn’t you? You bought my tablet just to provoke me!” “I knew his clothes smelled like someone else. It was you, you were seducing him! You shameless homewrecker, I’m going to expose you!” The words ‘homewrecker’ pierced me like a knife. “Liam and I have been together for eight years. Who do you think the homewrecker is?” The line went silent for a few seconds, then she hung up. Twenty minutes later, she called back. But this time, it was Liam. “Chloe! Why did you call and deliberately upset Jenna? She’s young and fragile, she doesn’t handle things well. Are you trying to drive her to suicide?!” “Jenna is threatening to kill herself right now. You need to get over here and apologize to her!” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “Liam, she’s the one who called and screamed at me. And you want me to apologize to her?” His voice was hard. “Jenna is young and immature, she was just blowing off steam. You’re so much older than her, you shouldn’t hold it against her. She almost killed herself, don’t you think you bear some responsibility for that?” I started to laugh, a broken, tear-filled sound. “In your dreams, Liam,” I said, each word a shard of glass. The next day, as I was checking out of the hospital, I noticed people pointing and whispering. “That’s her, right? The other woman who deliberately bought used things to taunt the wife.” “So shameless. Is she here for an abortion? Why doesn’t God just strike her down with lightning?” A jolt of fear went through me. I ducked my head and hurried out of the hospital. Jenna had posted about me online, painting me as the villainous other woman. My phone was flooded with hateful messages. My apartment door was splattered with paint. My boss called and fired me, citing my “poor character.” But I couldn’t let them rewrite the truth. I contacted a popular online influencer, gave him the full story of my history with Liam, and asked him to help me set the record straight. The influencer posted my story, and public opinion instantly flipped. I thought I had won. But I had underestimated Liam’s cruelty. He sent me a video. It was of my younger brother, Aaron. He was on his knees, held down by several men, his eyes wide with terror. Liam’s voice on the phone was chillingly calm. “Chloe, if you don’t apologize, then I’ll have to let your brother apologize for you.” I was in disbelief. “Liam, you’re using Aaron to threaten me? Are you even human?” After our parents died, Aaron had always looked up to Liam as a brother-in-law. A few years ago, when a business rival had sent thugs after Liam, it was Aaron who had protected him, risking his own life. In the scuffle, he had accidentally killed one of the men. He’d also suffered a head injury that left him with a mild intellectual disability and was sent to a juvenile correction facility. I remembered Liam’s tears that day. “It’s all my fault. I promise, I’ll take care of you and Aaron for the rest of my life.” But now, he was using Aaron to force me to my knees. He was silent for a moment. “I can’t let Jenna die.” Maybe it was the death of my last hope, but suddenly, I felt like there was nothing left to fight for. I nodded. An apology. Fine. From now on, I only had my brother. I was still waiting to bring him home. 4 I went to Liam’s office. The receptionist swiped me through the security gate, her eyes filled with contempt. “Mr. Hayes brings Ms. Miller here all the time. Everyone in the company knows they’re a couple. I’ve heard of the wife beating the mistress, but I’ve never seen the mistress cyberbully the wife. You’ve got some nerve.” When Liam’s company was on the brink of collapse, I had used my parents’ inheritance to bail him out. He had sworn then that he would never forget my kindness. But now, everyone in this company saw me as a shameless homewrecker. The irony was suffocating. On a large screen in his office, I saw my brother, screaming in terror. I lunged at Liam, but Jenna shoved me to the ground. My hand landed on the shattered fragments of a glass that had just fallen. Pain exploded in my palm, and blood began to flow. A flicker of pity crossed Liam’s face. He reached out a hand to help me up. But Jenna started to sob. “Everyone online is calling me names. My friends, my classmates… they’re all laughing at me. I might as well be dead!” Liam’s expression immediately hardened. “Jenna’s reputation has been destroyed because of you, she almost died. It’s not too much to ask for you to apologize.” “Kneel, slap yourself a hundred times, and bow your head to the floor ten times. Record a video admitting you’re the other woman, and we’ll call it even. I promise, your brother won’t be harmed. Otherwise…” My body trembled. I clenched my bleeding fist. But no matter how much my hand hurt, it was nothing compared to the feeling of being sliced apart from the inside. I walked over to Jenna, who was holding up a phone to record, and my knees hit the marble floor with a sickening thud. “I’m sorry. I’m the other woman.” I repeated the words, over and over, as I slapped my own face. Again and again. The initial sting gave way to a dull numbness. Soon, my mouth was filled with the metallic taste of blood. On the screen, my brother couldn’t see what was happening, but he heard the sounds and began to struggle wildly. After the slaps, I began to bow, my forehead hitting the cold floor with a dull, rhythmic thud that echoed in the silent office. Liam nodded, satisfied. Just then, his assistant called him out of the room. Jenna knelt down and whispered in my ear. “Did you like the pictures on the tablet? Chloe, how dare you try to compete with me? I’m going to make you lose the most important thing in your life.” Suddenly, my brother clutched his throat, gasping for air. His asthma was acting up! I begged the men on the screen to give him his inhaler, but Jenna stopped them. “Don’t give it to him. He’s just like his sister. A great actor!” “Please, he’ll die! You’re murdering him!” My pleas were useless. I tried to run out to get Liam, but his assistant, who had just returned, pinned me to the floor. My brother lay on the ground, his body convulsing. As I screamed, his struggles grew weaker, until they stopped completely. I lay on the floor, my eyes filled with a burning hatred for Jenna. “What’s all the noise…” Liam walked back in. Jenna immediately threw herself into his arms, sobbing. “She suddenly attacked me! She said she would never apologize! In all the chaos, we didn’t even notice that her brother was having an attack…” Liam looked at the screen, his face turning to stone. “Chloe, was an apology that hard for you? Are you happy now that Aaron is dead?” “She wouldn’t give him his medicine!” I shrieked. “Jenna killed him!” Jenna put on a wounded act, which only made Liam’s gaze on me colder. “Since you refused to apologize, and now you’ve gotten Aaron killed, don’t blame me for what happens next.” After he left, I dragged my broken body to the city bridge over the river. My phone buzzed. It was a notification from the official account of Liam’s company, which I followed. They had posted a picture of a marriage certificate. Liam and Jenna’s. The influencer who had helped me had also posted a statement, claiming that the evidence I had given him was photoshopped, that I had deceived him. Public opinion had flipped again. But I didn’t care anymore. I climbed over the railing, looked down at the churning water below, and jumped. Liam. From this moment on, we are done. I didn’t see the phone I left behind on the bridge light up with an incoming call. And at that moment, as Liam was taking Jenna to the hospital, a strange, creeping unease began to settle in his heart. “Don’t worry, Ms. Miller is perfectly fine. This is just a minor scratch, it doesn’t even need to be treated.” Jenna pouted, pulling back her leg, which had a tiny scrape on it. “But it still hurts…” Liam looked at the scratch, and for some reason, he thought of Chloe, kneeling on the floor, her hands covered in blood. Chloe. That must have hurt so much. As he was leading Jenna out, they passed a doctor in the hallway. The doctor recognized him and his tone was reproachful. “Hey, it’s you. How could you not know your own girlfriend’s allergies?” “You didn’t even answer your phone that day. If we hadn’t gotten to her in time, she would have died!” Liam froze. “What did you say?”

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Stuck at a long red light, I opened my phone. A question on my feed asked: [Life, freedom, love, and money. How would you rank them?] The comments were a mess. Most ranked money first. Only one stood out: “Love will always be my number one. Without love, nothing else has any meaning.” Someone mocked them, calling them a hopeless romantic. But I silently agreed. Love should come first. After all, the love Mark gave me was always perfect. Amidst the ridicule, the original poster calmly replied: “If you were me, you would choose the same. Last year, I had acute kidney failure. He gave me one of his kidneys. And at the time, he wasn’t even my boyfriend. He was just my doctor.” My heart stopped. Last year, Mark had also donated a kidney—to a stranger. I’d been strongly against it, but he’d soothed me, saying, “Saving lives is a doctor’s duty.” My fingers went cold, trembling as I scrolled. The comment continued: “He only has one kidney now, but in that department… he’s still more than I can handle. Broad shoulders, narrow waist… he leaves me sore every single night.” A photo was attached: a man’s muscular back in a dimly lit bathroom, a faint bite mark on his left hip. I had left that mark on him at eighteen, as punishment for punching my high school crush. 1 It wasn’t until a chorus of horns honked behind me that I snapped back to reality. I was still twenty minutes from Mark’s hospital. I pulled over to the side of the road and killed the engine. I went back to the post. The tide in the comment section had already turned. “What? A love story this pure still exists in the 21st century? You’ve made me believe in love again.” The original poster continued her calm narration: “His parents divorced when he was a kid, and neither of them wanted him. Even though he’s successful now, deep down, he’s still a little boy who craves love.” A sharp pain lanced through my heart. “I grew up in an orphanage, so I guess we’re kindred spirits. I can’t give him anything but love, but that’s the one thing he needs most.” “It’s enough that we can heal each other. Even if he’s already married… I don’t care. I just want to be with him, one day at a time.” A storm of question marks erupted in the comments. But she seemed oblivious, continuing on. “I’m dying. I don’t have much time left. I was afraid of hurting him, I rejected him so many times. But every time I saw how broken and sad he looked, I couldn’t bear it.” “Life is too short, and our meeting was too beautiful. I’ll take whatever time we have.” The final post. “Here’s a picture of us.” I stared at the words, the screen’s brightness searing my eyes. The loading icon spun and spun, making my eyes ache. My finger hovered over the screen, unable to tap. The truth was a hand, squeezing the air from my lungs. A soft thump. I jerked back to the present. In my rearview mirror, a girl’s electric scooter was lying on its side behind my car. She was scrambling to pick it up. She was slender and frail, dressed in a faded white sweatshirt. As she hurried over to my car, my heart gave a strange, painful lurch. “I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry!” she said, bowing, her palms pressed against my window in a panic. “It’s my first time riding one, I couldn’t brake in time… I’m really so sorry…” The window was fogged up. Her face was a blur through the condensation. But her silhouette, her eyes… a sudden, terrifying premonition washed over me. I took a deep breath, and my thumb finally pressed down. The moment the picture loaded, I heard my own breathing stop. On the screen, Mark’s head was slightly bowed, his gaze so tender it could drown a person. In his arms was a girl in a white sweatshirt, her face tilted up to his, smiling. She was identical to the girl outside my car window. The world went silent. The only sound was my own heartbeat, thudding so hard it hurt. I slowly lifted my head. Her hand was still pressed against the glass. She was still talking. And my eyes began to burn. 2 The air was unnervingly quiet when Mark arrived. Ten minutes earlier, the girl had made a phone call. We had remained on opposite sides of the car window, one of us standing, the other squatting by her fallen scooter. Neither of us had spoken another word. Until a familiar car turned the corner. Until a familiar figure strode towards us. Until Mark, without even a glance at my car, went straight to her and knelt by her side. “Not listening again. Didn’t I tell you to stay home and rest?” He took iodine and cotton swabs from his pocket and began to expertly clean her scraped knee. The girl giggled, wrapping her arms around his neck. “It’s nothing! I just wanted to go grocery shopping. It’s your birthday, I wanted to do something special.” “You can’t get hurt again,” Mark said, his head bowed as he carefully tended to the small scrape. “I don’t need any special occasions. I just need you to be safe.” “I know, I know~” I got out of the car. “Two thousand for the repairs. I’ll accept a private settlement.” In the moonlight, Mark looked up, his face instantly draining of all color. “Amber…” he stammered. I didn’t let him continue. “You got here fast,” I said, pointing first at him, then at the girl cowering behind him. “From the moment you answered her call to now, fifteen minutes. That’s all it took for me to see exactly where she stands in your heart.” The wind whipped into the collar of my shirt, and I suddenly felt very cold. “Mark.” I said his name. Three syllables I had been saying since I was ten years old. For fifteen years. I had called him to wake him up, to come to dinner, to say “I love you,” to say “I’ll wait for you.” I had never felt so tired. “Do you have any right to do this to me?” He didn’t answer. The girl shrank further behind him. I stared at her for a long time. Long enough for Mark to take a half step forward, shielding her even more completely. That single gesture hurt more than any photograph. I didn’t say another word. I turned, pulled open my car door, and sped away, just seconds before the tears could fall. In the rearview mirror, he was still standing there, his arm protectively around her, his eyes following my car. The streetlights cast a dim, yellow glow. The face that had made my heart race a thousand times suddenly looked like a stranger’s. The car went faster and faster, memories replaying in my mind like a movie. Ten years old. The day his parents left, he moved in next door. He was so thin, like a piece of paper. I would sneak food from my house and pass it to him over the balcony. He would eat ravenously, tears streaming down his face, saying, “I owe you. Thank you.” Eighteen. He repeated a year of high school just so we could go to the same university. A senior gave me a love letter, and he beat the guy to a pulp. I screamed at him, bit him. He wiped the blood from the corner of my mouth, his eyes red. “Amber, I like you too. Be my girlfriend, okay?” On the rooftop, he kissed me for the first time. Then he picked me up and spun me around, laughing like a fool. “Amber, this is the happiest day of my life… Thank you, for healing me, again and again.” Twenty-two. On his first day as a resident, he proposed in front of everyone, swearing he would only love me for the rest of his life. I chose to move to another city for a career opportunity. He helped convince my parents, then told me with unwavering certainty, “Amber, you be you. I’ve got your back.” Every weekend, without fail, he would drive three hours to see me. Rain or shine. For over a thousand days, he never let me spend a weekend alone. Every night, we would talk on the phone for hours, never running out of things to say. Every anniversary I forgot, he would surprise me with something full of love. I don’t think I ever once doubted his love for me. But I don’t understand. I really don’t. How can one heart hold two loves at the same time? My eyes were burning. The wind rushing in through the half-open window stung them. But what hurt more was the heart that had loved for so many years. 3 I turned the car around and drove back to my own city. A hundred and twenty kilometers. I cried so hard I could barely see the road. It took me three hours. My best friend was waiting at my door, holding a cake, her face full of anticipation. “You’re back so soon? How did it go? Was Mark thrilled when you told him you were pregnant?” Today was Mark’s birthday. It was also the day I had planned to tell him I was pregnant. My job transfer had finally been approved. I could move back to his city. So the moment I got off work, I had rushed to see him. I wanted to tell him in person that we were going to have a baby, that we could finally end the long-distance, that we would never have to spend another weekend apart. But instead, I had walked into a nightmare. One I couldn’t seem to wake up from. I looked at my best friend, and my eyes welled up first. The composure I had been desperately clinging to finally shattered. “He’s cheating on me. With the girl he donated his kidney to.” My friend stared at me for three long seconds, and then her own eyes turned red with a fury that surpassed my own. The next second, she was sobbing and cursing Mark’s entire family tree. I completely broke down, collapsing into her arms. She had been there for all fifteen years of our story. When Mark couldn’t afford tuition and was about to give up on college, I stole my family’s savings for him. My dad beat me until my back was covered in welts. I had worked myself to the bone for twenty straight days on a project, just so I could get a promotion and apply for a transfer back to his city. The six months Mark was studying abroad, I broke my leg and lay in a hospital bed, never telling him a word about it. Every time, she would call me a fool, asking me if he was worth it. And I would always tell her, yes. Mark had had it so rough. He only had me. I had to be good to him, better and better. She knew. I loved Mark more than I loved myself. So now, she was a mess of tears and snot, crying and cursing. Cursing him for being blind, for being a heartless bastard, for being a dog who deserved to die. I knelt by the toilet, crying and throwing up. “I want a divorce.” “I’m not having that scumbag’s baby.” “I want Mark to suffer.” Three in the morning. I was curled up in the corner of the sofa, watching the city lights blink on and off. My friend, exhausted, was asleep on my shoulder, tear tracks still wet on her cheeks. I used to think that a good relationship was built on fireworks, on the moon, on roses brought from across mountains, on a million moments of hardship and a thousand tearful embraces. Now I know. Love is built on conscience. The front door suddenly opened. It was Mark. “Amber, it’s not what you think between me and Sarah.”

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To marry me, Alexander knelt for three days and nights, enduring his family’s brutal judgment. But on our fifth anniversary, I received a video of him in bed with someone else. It was clearly filmed in secret. The girl in the video lay on her back, a pillow propped under her hips. The frame shook for a few seconds before steadying. Then I heard that familiar voice. “Legs up. Ten minutes. It helps with conception.” That night, I handed him the divorce papers. Alexander’s eyes were red as he tried to explain. “The family needs an heir, Serena. It’s been five years, and you haven’t gotten pregnant. I was out of options.” “Please, don’t divorce me. I promise you, I’ll break it off with her right now.” Looking at the lattice of scars that still marked his back, my resolve softened. For the next three years, he was a model husband, constantly updating me on his whereabouts to put my mind at ease. Until the day I flew a thousand miles to surprise him on a business trip. And found him with a woman and a child in his arms. 1 “Daddy, can you stay with me a little longer this time?” The boy was about two years old, a cherubic little thing. Alexander knelt, pulling the child into a tight hug. “Of course. Daddy promises.” The woman, Jessica, immediately knelt beside them, gently pulling the boy back. “Sweetie, you can’t be demanding. You’ll make things hard for your daddy.” A shadow of guilt flickered in Alexander’s eyes. The next second, he covered the child’s eyes with one hand and leaned in to kiss her. When they parted, a glistening thread connected their lips for a moment. “Jess,” he murmured, his voice thick, “you’re always so understanding.” “Don’t worry. As long as you stay hidden, as long as you don’t make a scene in front of my wife, I’ll take care of you.” His voice was a low rumble as he nuzzled his nose against hers. My heart seized in my chest. The positive pregnancy report in my hand crumpled as my fist clenched around it. Alexander and I had once been that tender, that passionate. I knew that look in his eyes. He was aroused. I should have thrown the door open right then. I should have screamed at him. “You said you broke it off with her! Why did you lie to me? Don’t you know? I’m pregnant, too!” But I didn’t. I turned in silence and walked away. I went back to our home in Westwood, as if I had never been there at all. One day passed. Then two, then three. Alexander didn’t come home on schedule like he usually did. It wasn’t until a week later that he finally appeared, looking tired from his travels. “Babe, did you miss me?” I just stared at him, searching his face for any crack in the facade. But his dark eyes reflected only me. He looked as if I was still his entire world. Then my gaze fell to his neck. There, on the pale skin, were two stark, crimson marks. I reached out, my fingertip lightly touching one of the marks. “Alexander, what’s this?” I asked softly. He stiffened, his eyes darting away. “Probably a bug bite…” “It’s spring,” I said, cutting him off. “An allergic reaction, then,” his voice grew steadier. “I was at the construction site, and the wind was kicking up all kinds of dust. You know how sensitive my skin is. The slightest thing makes it red.” He took my hand, his tone sincere, his eyes clear. But I didn’t believe him. I looked straight into his eyes. “Is there anything else you have to tell me?” Alexander had always adored children. He was the sole heir to the Prescott Group, the future of the family. Outside the walls of our life, his illegitimate half-brother was circling like a vulture, waiting for him to fail. He needed a child. And yet, he had defied all that pressure to marry me, a woman who struggled to conceive. He had been so devoted, so loyal. So I, in turn, offered myself up as a sacrifice. I had tried countless remedies to get pregnant. Cold needles, one after another, piercing my skin. The medicine was bitter, the injections agony. But while I was dreaming of nothing but a child… He already had one. Now, all I wanted was the truth. “Serena, I love you,” Alexander said, leaning down to kiss me lightly. “I love you so, so much. It’s carved into my bones.” 2 He was lying to me again. My phone buzzed. A text from an unknown number. “Ms. Serena, since you already know, can you please give Alexander back to us? A child can’t grow up without a father. I’m begging you, just let us be a family.” It was followed by a picture of a ring. I instinctively touched my own bare ring finger. Our engagement ring. I must have dropped it by accident, right outside the door of their villa in Brookhaven. But the ring wasn’t the only thing I had lost. My hand, holding the phone, began to tremble uncontrollably. Seeing my expression, Alexander immediately tried to look at my screen. “Babe, what is it? Did someone… text you?” I locked the phone and looked up, meeting the poorly hidden anxiety in his eyes. “No one. It was what you just said. It makes me sick.” I forced a smile, my eyes swimming with tears. “You love me,” I scoffed, “but that didn’t stop you from sleeping with someone else.” Pain flashed across Alexander’s face. He pulled me into a crushing hug. “I’m sorry, Serena. I know I hurt you. I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you, being good to you.” He thought I was talking about three years ago. I shoved him away and ran for the bathroom, doubling over the toilet and heaving until my stomach was empty. Alexander’s face went pale. “Serena, you’re thinking about it again.” He clutched his hair, looking utterly broken. “Can’t you just forget it? We decided to start over. Please, stop hurting yourself like this, stop torturing me with it.” He staggered towards me, reaching for my hand. “Let’s just move forward, okay?” I stared down at our joined hands. After I chose to forgive him, I could never stop my mind from wandering whenever we were intimate. His hands had touched that woman. His lips had kissed her. His body had been entangled with hers. The thought alone was nauseating. I was disgusted by his betrayal. But I was even more disgusted with myself for taking him back. Again and again, I would be sick. And he would jam his fingers down his own throat, forcing himself to be sick with me. Each time, he would end up a wreck, his eyes red and his face a mess, kneeling on the floor and clutching my hand. “I’m sorry, it’s all my fault,” he’d plead, over and over. “Serena, forgive me. Please, stop thinking about it…” Just like he was doing now. He looked so pitiful. And so detestable. I ripped my hand from his grasp. “Don’t touch me. You’re filthy.” Ding. Buzz. Both our phones chimed at the same time. “Ms. Serena, you can’t have children, and you’re not getting any younger. How much longer can you hold on to your position as Mrs. Prescott? Why not leave with some dignity? His heart has been with me for a long time. Do you need proof?” In the next instant, Alexander gripped his phone tightly. “Serena, there’s an emergency at the Brookhaven office.” He wouldn’t meet my eyes. He turned, grabbing his jacket. “I have to go right away. You should get some rest.” He didn’t have time to soothe me. Because on the other end of the line, Jessica was pregnant again. And their child was crying his little heart out. “Mommy, don’t get rid of the baby sister! Daddy, come back!” 3 On my phone, a flood of new messages was pouring in. On my birthday, Jessica had a high fever. Alexander stayed with her in the hospital room all night, holding their son. When I went to the chapel on Serenity Peak to pray for a child, he was with her at the old cathedral in Brookhaven, praying for a protection charm for theirs. Last New Year’s Eve, I went to the family estate alone, enduring a lecture from his mother in the library. He was at their villa in Brookhaven, setting off fireworks with her. In every moment of my loneliness, Alexander chose her, betraying me. The opening riff of my ringtone, a heart-wrenching ballad, tore through the silence. It was my doctor. “Serena, your uterus was damaged in the past, and the lining is very thin. For the first trimester, you need absolute rest. No major emotional swings. Bed rest is best. This might be your… your last chance to be a mother.” I laid a hand on my still-flat stomach. It felt like the whole world was closing in on me. My body moved before my mind could think. I ran out the door after him. But all I saw was the taillights of his car disappearing down the street. My hand trembled as I dialed his number. After a few long rings, a robotic female voice answered. “We’re sorry, the number you have dialed is currently busy…” He had rejected my call. At the same time, Jessica sent one last screenshot. It was a message Alexander had just sent her. “Jess, I promise you, I will handle everything. When you have this baby, I’ll give you and our children a real home. Wait for me. I’m on my way.”

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To save me from a fire, my boyfriend, Tristan, suffered severe burns and went blind. Guilt consumed me. I sold my parents’ house, worked multiple jobs, and saved every penny for his treatments, even enduring broken bones without medical care. Five years later, while delivering food, I saw him, unscarred, sight restored, proposing to another woman, Lila. I overheard his friend say that to buy his expensive medication, I’d been starving myself. Tristan coldly explained that my suffering was revenge: because I reported Lila’s drunk‑driving brother (who killed my parents), he wanted me to despair. He planned to later “recover” and return to me, claiming I’d have no choice but to obey. Holding my terminal cancer diagnosis, I smiled through tears. In a month, I’d be with my parents again. 01 The heavy delivery box dug into my shoulders. It was a familiar pain, one I had endured countless times. But now, it felt as if five years of numbness had been stripped away, and every sensation came rushing back, sharp and agonizing. Every pore in my skin felt like it was being pricked by a needle. The laughter from the private room seeped through the door. “I was at the night market last month and saw Aubrey selling socks from a little stall. A few local thugs were shaking her down for protection money.” “Those creeps were putting their hands all over her, and she just had to bow and scrape. It was pathetic…” Tristan’s friend sighed dramatically. “She used to be the star of the music department. You wouldn’t recognize that proud, aloof girl now.” I gripped the strap of my delivery box, my knuckles turning white. Tristan’s voice was suddenly tense. “Did you help her?” “Are you kidding? Last time I bought a bowl of noodles from her stall, you chewed me out for a month, said I was going to ruin your grand plan. This time, I just watched from a distance… You should have seen it. After those guys left, she knelt on the ground to pick up the scattered socks, and she just started crying. But after she cried, she went right back to selling. Like one of those resilient little weeds that just won’t die.” I remembered that day. The humiliation. The hospital had sent another bill, but I’d just spent everything I had on Tristan’s imported “miracle drug.” I was still three hundred dollars short. For that three hundred dollars, I had swallowed my pride and endured the thugs’ taunts, just hoping I could earn enough so Tristan wouldn’t be kicked out of his premium private room. “Good,” Tristan’s voice relaxed, laced with satisfaction. “If we don’t grind that pride out of her, how will Lila ever let go of her anger? And how will Aubrey ever learn to be humble?” Lila’s soft voice chimed in. “Tristan, honey, maybe… that’s enough? It’s been five years. I’m sure she’s learned her lesson.” “How can it be enough?” Tristan’s tone hardened. “Lila, I know you’re the kindest, most soft-hearted person, but she’s the one who insisted on calling the police, the one who sent your brother to prison. You cried for a whole month. I promised you, for every day your brother suffers in there, she’ll suffer out here. He’s not out yet, so her suffering isn’t over.” “But what if she finds out?” Lila whispered. “So what if she does? She has nothing left. Where can she go except back to me? Besides, Aubrey is too headstrong. If I don’t teach her to bow her head, she’ll just keep getting hurt. One day, she’ll understand I did this for her own good…” My fists clenched, and the chilblains on the back of my hand split open, welling with blood. Tristan, is this your professional code of ethics as a lawyer? He had probably long forgotten that my deceased parents were the benefactors who had funded his education for ten years. I turned, about to ask a waiter to deliver the food for me, when my phone buzzed. [You have 3 orders nearing their delivery deadline. Please complete them as soon as possible.] I fumbled to lower the volume, but the door to the private room swung open. “Is that my delivery?” Lila poked her head out. She froze for a second when she saw me. I kept my head down and held out the bag. “Your order. Please check it.” Lila let out a small, delicate laugh. She reached for the bag, but the moment her fingers touched it, she gasped. “Oh my! Why can’t you hold it steady…” The bag dropped from her grasp. The exquisite pastries inside shattered, splattering cream all over the floor. “Lila, are you okay?” Tristan’s concerned voice grew closer. I quickly pulled a mask over my face and tugged my helmet down low. Tristan wrapped his arm around Lila, pulling her into his embrace. The warm, yellow light of the hallway illuminated his expensive cashmere sweater. His skin was smooth and clear, without a single scar. His bright eyes swept over me, and then away. I stood there, head bowed, not knowing what to do. I turned to leave. But he grabbed my arm. 02 “You damage a customer’s order and think you can just run off? Apologize!” A wave of relief washed over me, immediately followed by a bitter pang. For a moment, I thought he had recognized me. The customer is always right. I bowed again and again, murmuring apologies. I bent down to pick up the ruined desserts. Tristan clicked his tongue. “Lila’s been abroad for five years. This is the one dessert she’s been craving. Now look at it. How is she supposed to eat this?” Lila tugged at his sleeve, her voice soft and sweet. “It’s okay, Tristan… I’m sure she didn’t mean to. It’s just a shame… And my new shoes you just bought me, they’re limited edition, and they got cream on them…” I looked down. A small smudge of cream stained her high-heeled shoe. “According to consumer protection laws, a delivery person who damages a customer’s property is liable for three times the value,” Tristan said coldly. I straightened up, looking at him through the visor of my helmet. For five years, I had visited him in the hospital every single day. I cleaned him, fed him, read him the news. He was “blind,” so he would always trace my face with his hands, from my brow to my jaw, and say with a pained voice, “Aubrey, you’ve gotten so thin.” Now he stood before me, his eyes perfectly fine, and he didn’t recognize me at all. “How much? I’ll pay.” “The shoes were thirty-two hundred… can you even afford that?” Lila whispered. Thirty-two hundred dollars. That was months of my blood and sweat. “And that doesn’t cover Lila’s emotional distress,” another man added, stepping out of the room. “Look, you obviously don’t have the money, and we’re not unreasonable. Just get on your knees, wipe the cream off Lila’s shoe, and we’ll call it even.” His eyes were filled with cruel amusement, as if I weren’t a person, but a dog to be toyed with. I looked at Tristan. He was gently comforting Lila, saying nothing to his friend’s suggestion. My phone buzzed with another deadline warning. If I stayed here any longer, I would lose my entire commission for the day. I closed my eyes, clenched my fists, and knelt. A low chuckle rippled through the room. Head bowed, I used my sleeve to wipe the cream from Lila’s shoe. Suddenly, she flinched back, pressing herself into Tristan’s arms. “Tristan…” she whimpered, her voice thick with tears. “It makes me think of my brother… I wonder how he’s doing in there, if his hands are getting ugly chilblains like this delivery person’s…” Tristan kicked me. It was so sudden I fell backward, and the leg I had broken slammed against the doorframe. A blinding pain shot up from the bone, but I bit my lip, refusing to cry out. “Get out,” Tristan said with disgust. “Don’t stand here upsetting Lila.” From the safety of his arms, Lila looked at me. Her eyes were gleaming with triumph. I pushed myself up from the floor, grabbed my delivery box, and stumbled out of the club. Behind me, his voice was as gentle as if he were a different person. “Don’t cry, Lila. I’m already working on the appeal. We’ll get your brother out of there soon…” The cold hallway wind seeped into my collar. I was frozen to the bone. I finished the rest of my deliveries in a numb daze and returned to the basement room I rented. The smell of mildew hit me as I opened the door. The ten-square-meter space contained a single bed and a wardrobe propped up on bricks. A thick layer of frost covered the windowpane, and the moonlight that filtered through was pale and ghostly. For all these years, I believed I was the one responsible for Tristan’s injuries. To ensure he got the best treatment, the most comfortable private room, I had scrimped and saved, living a life worse than a beggar in a slum. I held up my hands, swollen and red like raw carrots, and pulled a photograph from under my pillow. In the picture, I had just won the gold medal at a piano competition. My parents stood beside me, their faces beaming with pride. Tears dripped onto the photo. Mom, Dad, your daughter was a fool. It took me so long to see the truth. When we’re reunited, you’ll scold me for being so stupid, won’t you? A sharp pain twisted in my stomach. I reached for my painkillers out of habit, but my phone rang. “Aubrey, are you done with work? Why didn’t you come see me today? I missed you.” Tristan’s gentle voice was once my only salvation. Now, it felt like a thorny vine, wrapping around me, suffocating me. I limped into his hospital room. Tristan was once again the helpless patient, his eyes unfocused, his skin a mess of prosthetic scars. He was leaning against the headboard, his head turned toward the door. “Aubrey? Is that you?” Then his expression changed, his voice filled with alarm. “What happened to your leg? Who hurt you?” I stood in the doorway and just looked at him. For a long, long time. Then I walked in and sat by his bed, just like always. “Tristan, you can’t see. How did you know I hurt my leg?” 03 The alarm on his face froze for a fraction of a second. Then, he naturally reached out, his hand fumbling in the air. “I heard your footsteps. They were uneven… one heavy, one light. Aubrey, you always walk so quietly, like a little cat.” He turned his head, his expression full of pain. “Did you injure your leg?” I lowered my eyes. “It’s nothing. I just took a bad fall.” “How could you be so careless?” He grabbed my hand, his thumb stroking the chilblains on my skin, his voice thick with self-reproach. “Aubrey, this is all my fault… If it weren’t for me, you wouldn’t have to work so hard. I’m just a burden to you…” I had heard those words for five years. Every time, I would fall into his arms and cry, telling him, “You lost your sight for me. It’s my duty to take care of you for the rest of my life.” Now, I just felt like a clown. I pulled my hand from his and handed him the glass of water from the nightstand. “While I was out delivering today, I heard a story.” “It was about a man who pretended to be paralyzed for five years, just to test if his girlfriend truly loved him. The girl sold everything she had to pay for his treatment. When she finally found out the truth, she jumped from the hospital roof.” Tristan’s hand paused. The water glass hovered in mid-air. After a long moment, he placed it back on the nightstand. “Why… why are you suddenly talking about that?” “I just wanted to ask you.” I leaned closer to his scarred face. “You’re not pretending, are you?” His entire body went rigid. The eyes that had played the part of a blind man for so long trembled for a split second. His lips moved, but no words came out. Before he could speak, I laughed. “If you were, that would be wonderful. I would rather you be healthy.” Seeing the complex emotion flash across his face, the pain in my stomach flared again. A metallic taste rose in my throat. I rushed to the bathroom. The moment the door closed, I braced myself against the sink and vomited a mouthful of blood. The red mixed with stomach acid, burning my throat. I turned on the faucet, washed away the evidence, and splashed cold water on my face. The person in the mirror was skeletal, with sharp cheekbones and sunken eyes. A breathing corpse. I could hear him on the phone, his voice low. “Are you sure? He’s being released on the 28th of next month?” “Good, that’s great! Lila will finally get to see her brother… Okay, I understand. I’ll be there to pick him up myself.” He hung up. I pushed the door open and walked out. He looked up, his face glowing with excitement. “Aubrey, the doctor just called!” “He said there’s a new technology from overseas. They can do the skin grafts and the eye surgery at the same time. The surgery is scheduled for the 28th of next month!” He was trembling with excitement, reaching a hand out towards me. “Aubrey, I’m going to get better! I’ll be able to see you soon!” I took his hand, watching the realistic ecstasy on his face. “That’s wonderful… that’s just wonderful…” he repeated, over and over. I looked down at him, my eyes stinging. One month. Lila’s brother gets out of prison, and he gets “cured.” Five years. He really was a man who kept his promises. My punishment would not be one day longer, or one day shorter. It was just a shame I wouldn’t be there to see it. Tristan’s hand fumbled by the bed and picked up a piece of paper. My body went completely still. It was my Do Not Resuscitate form. 04 But Tristan didn’t even glance down. He maintained his blind persona, his gaze fixed on a point in the distance. “What’s this?” he asked softly. I looked at his charade of a face and gave a bitter, internal smile. “It’s your latest bill.” He pulled me into his arms. “Aubrey, when I get better, the first thing I’m going to do is buy back the piano you sold.” He stroked my hair, his voice a gentle murmur. “And we’ll have a wedding. You’ll look so beautiful in a wedding dress.” I managed a stiff smile in his embrace. Tristan, the future you’re promising… is one I can never reach. There is no future for us. I left the hospital and went back to my basement room. I pulled out a dusty cardboard box. Inside were the notebooks Tristan had made for me when he was my father’s student and tutored me. There were photos we had taken together, one for every day of our early relationship. And the nine hundred and ninety-nine handwritten letters he had sent me. I sat with the box in my lap for a long time. Finally, I struck a match. The flame licked at the edges of a photograph. His smiling face curled in the heat, then turned to ash. I opened my banking app and looked at my remaining balance. It was just enough to buy a small plot for myself, next to my parents. Just as I was about to close the app, my phone rang. “Ms. Aubrey? This is the Phoenix Crest Cemetery management office. Would you be able to come by? There’s an urgent matter.” My heart clenched. I grabbed my jacket and ran out the door. When I got to the cemetery, I could see a group of people gathered around my parents’ grave. Several workers with shovels were pointing at the headstone. “What are you doing?!” I screamed, sprinting towards them and throwing myself in front of the grave. “This is my parents’ grave! What do you think you’re doing?!” Lila stepped out from the crowd. “Aubrey, perfect timing,” she said with a gentle smile. “My little Sheldon passed away, and a mystic told me this plot has the best energy to ensure he has a good reincarnation. So, I bought it.” She paused, her smile widening. “Oh, by the way, Sheldon was my pet turtle.” “You’re lying!” I trembled with rage. “I never sold my parents’ grave!” Lila calmly pulled a document from her purse and unfolded it in front of me. “Look closely. A transfer agreement. In black and white.” My eyes fell on the signature at the bottom, and I felt like I’d been struck by lightning. Tristan. I knew his signature like the back of my own hand. For five years, I had signed countless bills, medical disclosures, and surgical consent forms for him. He claimed he couldn’t see, so I signed on his behalf. But for the documents that required his personal signature, I would guide his hand, tracing each letter. This signature… he wrote it himself. I remembered. The year my parents died, I was only twenty, and I knew nothing. It was Tristan who handled everything—the funeral, the cemetery plot, all the paperwork. I was so grateful then, I thought he was the best person in the world. It turned out, he had been “arranging” everything for me from the very beginning. I lunged for the paper. Lila stepped back, and several men immediately grabbed me, pinning me to the ground. They shoved my face into the dirt, the cold, earthy smell filling my nose and mouth. Lila took out her phone, dialed a number, and put it on speaker. “Tristan, honey…” “I want to bury Sheldon’s ashes at Phoenix Crest, but she’s blocking the way. What should I do?” Tristan’s voice came through, clear and crisp. “Lila, you’re just too kind. That’s why people take advantage of you. You need to be firm when it counts, or every stray cat and dog will think they can stand in your way.” Lila cooed a sweet reply. She turned on the video camera and pointed it at me. “How about this. You apologize, say you were wrong, and I’ll have them stop. What do you say?” My face was buried in the dirt, my eyes burning. “I… was wrong.” “Louder, I can’t hear you.” “I WAS WRONG!” I screamed with every ounce of strength I had left. Lila smiled with satisfaction and waved the phone. “See, Tristan? She apologized. Did I do a good job?” “Perfectly,” Tristan’s voice was laced with amusement. Lila put her phone away and sauntered off with her entourage. I lay on the ground, staring at the grave, which was now a chaotic mess of overturned earth. Tears mixed with the dirt on my face. After a long time, I climbed to my feet. With my bare hands, I began to push the soil back into place, handful by handful. From this day forward, this grave would not only hold my parents. It would also hold my heart, which had been tossed aside like trash. The day of Tristan’s “surgery” arrived. “Aubrey, when I come back from this surgery, I’ll be able to see you. Once I’ve recovered, I promise I’ll make up for these five years.” He got into the car that was taking him to the “airport,” and it drove away. He wasn’t just taking my lying lover with him. He was taking the last flicker of life from my body. The pain in my stomach was getting worse, a twisting, churning agony. I leaned against the wall and slid to the floor. I took out my phone and recorded a video of myself. “Tristan, in the next life… don’t let me ever meet you again.” I hit send. The phone slipped from my grasp. My vision blurred. In my last moments of consciousness, I thought I saw someone standing in a bright light, reaching out a hand to me. Mom, Dad, are you here to take me home?

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My childhood sweetheart of a husband loved to go fishing with his female coworker. For the first three years of our marriage, we fought about it constantly. By the fourth year, I was tired of fighting. I picked up my own rod and tackle box and started leaving early and coming home late, just like him. At first, Ryan didn’t care. Not until he came home late one night and found I still wasn’t back. He panicked. He begged me, promising he’d never go fishing again, that he’d stay home and be a good husband. But I wasn’t interested anymore. After all, the man I had on my line was Crestwood’s newest resident. The billionaire widower, Arthur Kingsley. 1 I’m a lazy person. Too lazy to find a new boyfriend, so I married my childhood sweetheart, Ryan. It was fine at first. Our families knew each other inside and out, and we’d grown up together. He was handsome in a clean-cut way, had never had a serious girlfriend, and I knew him down to the last freckle. Life after the wedding was pretty good. Until his parents, tired of him lounging around, arranged a job for him. In his department, there was this loud, outgoing girl who was always asking him to hang out. It started with dinners and karaoke, but somehow, they got hooked on night fishing, staying out all night long. Here I was, in the prime of my life, left to warm the bed alone night after night. How could I stand it? When I fought with Ryan about it, he called me dramatic. His coworker, Sarah, would always add fuel to the fire. “Oh, Ryan, you should just go home. It looks like the little wifey will die without a man around.” A few of their single male colleagues would snicker along. I ignored them and tried to pull Ryan home, but he shoved my hand away so hard I nearly fell. “Have you had enough?” he snapped. “Can’t I have one single hobby? I work my ass off for you all day, I help with the chores. I do everything you ask. The one thing I want is a little time to myself, and you have to chase me down and start a fight?” A wave of indignation washed over me. “A little time? You haven’t really been home in a week.” His face was cold. “What are you talking about? I come home to sleep every single night.” “At three in the morning! And then you’re up and gone for work, and you spend the entire weekend with them. We barely even talk anymore.” “That’s because you don’t have any friends. That’s not my problem,” he said, his face a mask of annoyance. “Iris, let me tell you something. We’re married, but that doesn’t mean I have to listen to every single thing you say.” Growing up, Ryan had always been gentle and easygoing. He had no bad habits and had never once lost his temper with me. That’s why I had felt so safe marrying him. But now, just a few years in, he’d learned how to fight with me. Seeing that he was impenetrable, I got angry too. I turned and stormed off. From then on, our life together was a battlefield. He hated my constant questions; I hated that he was never home. We started sleeping in separate rooms and stopped speaking altogether. The large house felt as cold and empty as a morgue. My heart was so heavy that I stopped taking care of myself. In three years, I gained a ton of weight, and my face was perpetually etched with resentment. It all came to a head when my best friend, Jenna, came to town on a business trip. When she saw me, she gasped. “Oh my god, Iris, what happened to you? How did you let yourself get like this?” “Like what?” “See for yourself!” She pulled out a compact mirror. Reflected in it was a washed-out, bitter woman with dull, lifeless eyes. I was so shocked I dropped the mirror on the table with a clatter. “Jesus, what is that thing? Jenna, do you think I’m possessed?” I frantically told her everything about Ryan. She pursed her lips, watching me for a long time, as if she didn’t know what to say. “Well?” I poked her impatiently. “Say something! Don’t just stare at me.” Jenna sighed. “It’s just… it’s like getting married turned your brain to mush.” I stared at her, confused. She broke it down for me. “Look, it’s obvious that Sarah girl is bad news. She knows you two are newlyweds, but she’s still dragging him out every single day. And Ryan? He’s playing dumb. You think he doesn’t know he should be home with his wife at night? Of course he does. He just knows that if he leaves you at home, you won’t do a thing about it.” “How is that possible?” I said, baffled. “I’m beautiful. Isn’t he afraid I’ll find someone else?” Jenna raised an eyebrow. “Have you?” I shook my head immediately. “No. My grandma always said you have to be a good person. Once you’re married, you can’t mess around.” “And there you have it,” she said. “You two grew up together. You know him, and he knows you. He is absolutely certain that your moral code would never let you cheat on him.” It was like a lightbulb went on. “Oh. No wonder he’s so confident just leaving me at home.” Jenna nodded sagely. “Exactly. And he was right, wasn’t he? I bet you can count on one hand the number of times you two have been intimate lately. And even with all that, you haven’t even thought about finding another man. You’re a pushover, Iris.” My fists clenched. “That bastard! How dare he!” She sighed again. “Look, I’m not telling you to go do something crazy. But Iris, at any point in your life, you cannot let a man take you for granted like this. You have to love yourself, too.” 2 After Jenna left, I went home. The large house was cluttered with junk I had bought over the past three years to fill the void. Cheap stuff from online, a few dollars here and there, had managed to fill over a thousand square feet. The place looked like a landfill. To Ryan’s credit, even while ignoring me, he still provided for me. He gave me three thousand dollars from his eight-thousand-dollar monthly salary as spending money. His mother would also give me cash on holidays, telling me to go play Mahjong. That was the only reason I put up with the misery for so long. But after talking to Jenna, I knew this couldn’t continue. I was wasting the best years of my life in this miserable haze. I looked at my reflection in the mirror—puffy, with greasy hair pulled back in a messy t-shirt—and took a long, deep breath. I tied up my hair, grabbed a giant trash bag, and started throwing things away. I worked from noon until night, filling eight enormous bags. The house was suddenly half-empty. The high-calorie junk food in the pantry, the cheap clothes in the closet, the low-quality makeup on my vanity, and even our wedding photo—all of it went into the trash. When I was done, I boiled two sweet potatoes for dinner. I’d only taken a few bites when the front door opened. Ryan walked in, followed by the impeccably dressed Sarah. She saw me, and her expression didn’t change. “Oh, you’re home,” she said with a smile. “Yeah,” I replied. “What are you doing here?” “Ryan was saying how great his new fishing rod is. I came to borrow it for a test run.” Ryan didn’t even look at me as he walked past and into the other room. Sarah sat down next to me, her eyes on my sweet potatoes. “Why are you eating this cheap stuff? Trying to lose weight?” “Yeah. I’ve gotten too fat. Thought I’d try.” She giggled. “Well, you know, body type is all in the genes. Some people are just born to be big. Starving yourself won’t help. You should just give up. You have any instant noodles? I can make you a bowl.” She started to get up, but I stopped her. “Don’t bother. I threw it all out.” “Why?” “I wasn’t eating it. It was just going to waste.” A flicker of something crossed Sarah’s eyes, but she just smiled. “Alright then. If you’re that determined to lose weight, I guess we’ll just have to wait and see.” She looked up as Ryan came out of the room and walked over to take the rod from his hand. “Wow, Ryan, this rod really is nice. So thin and light. Come on, I’ve rented a pond on the south side for tonight. Let’s go try it out.” Then she looked back at me with feigned guilt. “Oh, I forgot you were here. Is it okay if I go with Ryan?” Ryan didn’t even consider me anymore. He just smirked. “Why are you asking her? Her opinion doesn’t matter.” Three years hadn’t changed Ryan much, except that he had developed a more mature, masculine charm. That, combined with his well-maintained physique and respectable job, meant that plenty of women besides Sarah were interested in him. He was no longer the innocent boy I had married; the way he looked at Sarah now was tinged with a predatory hunger. I watched them, hating myself for letting a man like this turn me into a ghost of my former self. Ryan glanced at me, his expression dismissive. “I’m leaving. Don’t wait up for dinner.” “Okay.” He started to leave, then turned back. “By the way, I’ll transfer you four thousand this month. We got our quarterly bonus.” “Okay.” 3 With the new balance in my account, I went downstairs and signed up for a gym membership. Thankfully, my in-laws had bought a condo in a great building with all the amenities. After a three-month pass, I still had twenty-nine hundred left. I bought a cartful of whole grains, eggs, and fruit and hauled it all home. Then I looked at my messy, overgrown hair in the mirror and, on an impulse, chopped it all off. For the next three months, I was completely focused on working out. Ryan was gone more often than not, but I barely noticed. After losing over twenty pounds, none of my old clothes fit. I asked Ryan for money to buy a few new things, but he wasn’t as generous as usual. He sent me a string of angry voice messages, yelling at me for wasting money, before finally sending me five hundred dollars. Five hundred dollars. If I had married him so I wouldn’t have to struggle, this paltry sum made our entire arrangement feel like a joke. I accepted the money through gritted teeth, my frustration fueling my run on the treadmill. That’s when a man approached me. He was well-dressed and polite, and he asked me out to dinner. I noticed the Rolex on his wrist, and an idea sparked in my mind. That’s right. I married for security, for an easy life. If I wasn’t getting anything out of this relationship, what was the point? It was time to find a replacement. So that night, I went with the man, Mark, to a private fishing farm. It was remote, but the people coming and going all looked wealthy. I didn’t like Mark. He was sleazy, and his eyes kept darting to my chest. Within minutes, the conversation turned to sex. The guy was moving way too fast. He was bad news. My patience wore out, and I got up to leave. Mark grabbed my arm. “Where do you think you’re going? Once you’re in my car, leaving isn’t so easy.” I almost laughed. “This is a civilized society. What are you going to do, stab me?” He wouldn’t let go. “I don’t have to stab you. I have plenty of ways to make you scream.” What a creep. I tried to kick him, but he dodged. I went for his hair, and we caused a commotion. The owner of the farm came over and pulled us apart, dragging Mark to the side. “Hey, man, take it easy tonight. I’ve got a special guest.” Mark scoffed, straightening his shirt. “What kind of guest gets to tell me how to pick up women?” “The chairman of Apex Group. He just arrived. You know his reputation. He doesn’t like noise.” Mark’s face paled. “Apex? You mean Arthur Kingsley?” “The one and only.” “I heard his wife died a few years ago. He moved his whole company to a new city to avoid the bad memories. What’s a widower like him doing out here in the middle of nowhere?” “He’s just trying to relax, get back to nature. Not everyone is like you.” Their voices dropped to a whisper. I got tired of waiting and tried to slip away. Two minutes later, I was completely lost. After several wrong turns, I ended up behind a rock garden. A man in casual clothes was standing there, looking out at the horizon. He heard me and turned his head. Our eyes met, and we both froze. 4 I don’t know why he froze. I froze because… I had never seen a man that handsome in my entire life. To be fair, Ryan was good-looking. But compared to this man, he was nothing. It was his presence, his aura. Just standing there in profile, he made my heart race. I subconsciously licked my lips. “Um…” Arthur Kingsley looked at me. “Yes?” “I… I’m lost. Can you help me?” My brain had turned to mush. It had been too long since I’d seen a man that attractive. His cool gaze swept over me, then he pointed to the right. “That way.” “Oh. Th-thank you.” I was a good distance away before I realized I shouldn’t have just left. This place was in the middle of nowhere. I’d walk my legs off before I got back to the city. But I couldn’t find my way back to him, and if I ran into Mark again, it would be even worse. Just as I was stuck, a car horn beeped behind me. A Bentley pulled up, and the window rolled down. It was him. Arthur didn’t know why he was playing the good Samaritan, but seeing the woman clutching her jacket in the fading light, he opened the passenger door. “Get in. I’ll give you a ride.” I slid into the seat. “Thank you, sir,” I said meekly. Arthur’s eyes darkened for a moment, but he said nothing. He drove in silence. I looked at my phone. It was ten o’clock. Not a single message from Ryan. On social media, Sarah had posted another picture of their group. Ryan was leaning in close to her. Anyone who didn’t know better would think they were a couple. I sighed, wondering if there was any point in continuing this marriage. Without thinking, I turned to the composed man beside me and asked him. Arthur raised an eyebrow. “You’re asking a complete stranger for marital advice?” “Sometimes a stranger sees things more clearly.” He gave a noncommittal smile. After a long moment, he said, “If you’re asking me, I’d say the problem is that you haven’t figured out what you want from life.” I froze. The man was ruthless.

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Right before the market crashed, I cashed out and moved to Thailand, my fortune already made. The financial news anchor, the one who prided himself on his market analysis, called me in a frenzy, demanding to know why I had bailed. My father called, screaming that I was an ungrateful bastard. But I was calm. “Everything is fate,” I told them. “We are but puppets on its strings.” In my past life, I was a top-tier financial analyst. I predicted a hot stock was about to plummet and immediately warned my friends. But they stormed my house, furious, telling me their investments were trapped, that some were even on the verge of suicide. I was stunned, completely lost as to what went wrong. A friend showed me a video. A beautiful financial news anchor had predicted the same crash an hour before I did. He showed me her other videos; her past predictions mirrored mine, beat for beat. My friends believed I had deceived them, ruined their lives. They ganged up on me, tore me to pieces, and fed me to the dogs. When I opened my eyes again, I was back, one week before the crash. 1 “Mr. Hayes is a true prodigy! Look at all the money he’s made us!” “Yeah, we owe him big time! We’re counting on you to make us even richer, Nathan!” … I blinked, and I was back in the bustling stock exchange. People were swarming me, showering me with compliments, all hoping I’d lead them to another windfall. But these were the same people who had been the death of me in my past life. They called me a once-in-a-century financial genius. Since college, I had studied investing, predicted market trends, and never made a bad call. Any company I invested in was instantly deemed a golden opportunity, and everyone would rush to buy in. I had always enjoyed helping my classmates make money; their joy was my joy. That’s why I became a financial analyst after graduation, to help even more people. My reputation grew, and soon, my presence alone could cause a stampede. But this time around, I finally understood the true nature of human greed. I always warned them, “Don’t put all your eggs in one basket. Know your limits.” I told them I wasn’t infallible. But they never listened. They would liquidate their savings, some even taking out high-interest loans to leverage their bets. In my past life, when I foresaw the crash, I told them to sell everything. An hour later, they were at my door, their faces contorted with rage. “A little late, don’t you think?” one of them snarled. “Anyone who could get out, got out. Your ‘tip’ came too late. We’re all trapped.” “Do you have any idea how much we’ve lost? Jim couldn’t pay back his loans. He jumped off a building this morning!” My college classmate, Mark, held up his phone, his voice dripping with venom. “He tricked us all! He’s no genius! Look at this anchor’s video. She called it an hour before he did. Nathan Hayes has been using his reputation to scam us, playing us for fools!” I was completely bewildered. I spent most of my time analyzing the market; I barely had time to watch online videos. The others pulled out their phones, scrolling through the female anchor’s past predictions. “It’s true! Everything Nathan predicted, she predicted it first, and always earlier!” “We’ve been had! He’s not a prodigy, he’s a fraud!” “He’s the one who ruined us! Let’s kill him!” Their eyes were bloodshot. They didn’t even give me a chance to explain before they tore me apart. Now, hearing their flattery, a chill ran down my spine. My hands and feet turned to ice. 2 “Nathan, what’s wrong? Are you overworked?” Mark noticed my distress and gently pushed the crowd back to give me some space. Remembering what he did to me, my body went rigid. I pushed his hand away. “I am a bit tired. I was thinking of taking a trip to clear my head.” The moment I said it, Mrs. Gable from next door piped up, “Oh, Nathan, can’t you just stick it out a little longer? My son’s starting school soon, and we really need the money!” I was speechless. “Isn’t education free for the first nine years in this country?” She sniffed. “Well, he’ll need to buy a house and get married someday, won’t he?” I felt like I was going to be sick. “He’s not even in school yet. What’s the rush?” She was silenced, but the others chimed in with their own needs—a new house to renovate, tuition for studying abroad, a wife who wanted to upgrade. What did any of that have to do with me? “Uncles, aunts, friends, classmates,” I said, my voice strained. “I’m really not well. I need to rest. We can talk about this after I’ve recovered.” But they wouldn’t let me go, clinging to me, begging me to stay and help them. Just then, my father arrived. Seeing him again brought tears to my eyes. “Dad!” He held up a hand to quiet the crowd. “Listen to me, everyone! He’s my son, and I know he’s been working too hard. Let him rest!” Mrs. Gable was the first to object. “If he rests, who’s going to make money for us?” My father sighed. “But it’s not like he gets a cut of your earnings! I’m his father, and even I don’t have a right to demand anything of him. What right do you have?” “Dad!” I choked out, my heart aching. My mother died when I was young, and it had always been just the two of us. We weren’t rich, but my investments had made us a comfortable sum, enough to live well. But then my father pulled out a medical report, his hand trembling. “Nathan, it’s good you’re back. The doctor says if I don’t get a kidney transplant, I don’t have much time left. Just stay with me for a little while, okay?” I stared at the report, stunned. My father had kidney cancer. I gripped his hand. “Dad! We’ll get you the treatment! We have the money. We can get you a transplant!” “But… but…” His expression was pained, and he stammered, “Some guys invited me to play cards. They said the stakes were small, just a dollar for the first loss, then two, then four, doubling each time. I didn’t think it was much, so I played a few hands… and I lost everything.” My heart sank. He had been conned. It seemed that even if I wanted to walk away, fate had other plans. 3 I admitted my father to the hospital and threw myself back into market research. According to my memory of my past life, a bull market was just around the corner. If I played my cards right, I could make enough for my father’s transplant. Just as I was deep in thought, Mark called. “Nathan, I know you’re still in the game. We’ve been friends for years. Let me in on it. My wife just lost her job, and my son was just born. We’re struggling…” Some people can only share in wealth, not in hardship. The memory of him slandering me was still fresh. But when we were kids, his mother had treated me like her own son. I sighed. “Mark, the market is risky. What if you lose money? With your wife out of work and a new baby… I’m afraid you can’t afford the risk. So just invest a small amount.” “Okay! Okay!” “Precious metals,” I said. “The future is in precious metals. I’m bullish on Zenith.” “Got it! My son will never forget his generous godfather!” He hung up, ecstatic. After the call, I downloaded TikTok. I was curious about the financial anchor from my past life. I had just found her page when she posted a new video. “A little secret for you all… the future is in precious metals, especially Zenith!” I was stunned. That wasn’t what she had predicted in my past life. I quickly checked Zenith’s stock. It was skyrocketing. I frantically tried to buy, but the app was lagging. I couldn’t get the order through. Within minutes, the stock hit its daily limit and trading was halted. My phone rang. It was Mark again. “Nathan, I couldn’t get in on Zenith. Can you give me another tip?” I didn’t believe in coincidences. And in my past life, he was the one who accused me of being a copycat. “Sorry, I need a few days to think.” The moment I refused, his tone changed. “Nathan, I can’t believe you! You’ve already picked another one, haven’t you? Why won’t you tell me? How could you change like this? You’re the only one who’s allowed to get rich?” “But…” Before I could explain, he hung up. In my past life, I couldn’t understand his sudden turn. Now I realized he had changed a long time ago. I just hadn’t noticed. My father, even in the hospital, was thinking of me. He called to ask how my predictions were going. His old friends wanted to invest too, and they would give me a commission. He wanted to ease my burden. Those men had been kind to me when I was a child. I owed them. I remembered several other stocks that had done well in my past life. “A bull market is coming, Dad. We’re definitely going to make money. I think rare earth minerals are a good bet. Tell them to buy rare earth.” “Is there a specific company?” I checked the day’s market. “Solara.” My father praised my intelligence, saying how glad he was to have a son. “But Dad,” I said, changing the subject, “the money from this should be enough for your transplant. After the surgery, we’re out. The market is too risky. If we lose, we can’t afford it.” My father was silent for a moment. “Okay. I know the risks. After the surgery, we’ll move back to the countryside.” “Okay.” I finally understood. Those friends were fake. The only person in the world who truly loved me was my father. I was filled with hope. Once this stock paid out, I would have the money to save him. But something still felt off. I checked the female anchor’s page again. “Time for a new prediction! A bull market is on the horizon, and I think rare earth is the way to go. And just between us, I’m very optimistic about Solara!” A cold sweat broke out on my skin. How could her predictions be the same as mine again? 4 Before I could process it, my father called again. His voice was weak but urgent. “Nathan, I told all your uncles to buy Solara, but we’re all old and slow. None of us could get the order in. Did you manage to buy any?” I sighed. “I couldn’t get in either.” “Don’t worry, Dad. I’ll keep an eye on the market. There will be other opportunities.” “Okay. But what about your uncles? They’re old, they just wanted to make a little extra for their final years. I already promised them…” I thought for a moment. “It’s okay, Dad. I’ll make another prediction for them. But this stays between us.” “Of course! I’m not an idiot. I wouldn’t tell anyone else about a money-making opportunity!” After the call, I was still confused. In my past life, the anchor had never predicted either of these stocks. I scrolled through her old videos, searching for clues. I found a comment saying her name was Miranda Thorne. She used to be a nurse, but she had found a rich old man who could move the market with a single word. I wracked my brain, but I was sure I didn’t know her. My mind was a mess. I scrolled through my social media feed and saw a post from Mark. It was a screenshot of a stock hitting its limit, with the caption: [Asking for your prediction was a courtesy. You’re not the only one who can see the future!] The people I had helped in the past were all liking and commenting. [That little prick Nathan Hayes is so full of himself. We were just being nice asking for his opinion!] [Yeah, he’s nothing compared to our Miranda. She’s beautiful, and her predictions are always spot on!] [What does Nathan Hayes know about predictions? He’s probably just copying Miranda!] … So my death in my past life had been premeditated. But why? What did they gain from it? And why were Miranda’s predictions the same as mine? If Mark had betrayed me, what about my father? I was his only son. Why would he betray me? I pushed the thoughts aside. There were plenty of other stocks that had soared in my past life. This time, I wouldn’t tell anyone. I would buy first. Let’s see if Miranda can predict that. I rewatched her videos. Just like in my past life, she only focused on domestic stocks. But I remembered a few international stocks that had done very well. This time, I would buy all of them. Let’s see her predict that! And even if she did, it didn’t matter. After this boom, I would have enough money for my father’s treatment. Then I was done with the market for good. After buying the stocks, I camped out on Miranda’s page. I was a nervous wreck, my palms sweating as I refreshed the page like a madman. Not even five minutes later, a new video appeared. She was predicting international stocks. She had bought almost every single stock I had, except for one, a junk stock. I sneered. Smart. Even her copying was selective. I had invested the least in that junk stock. The person spying on me must have realized I was testing them. My father’s call came soon after. His tone was sharp, his voice booming with a newfound strength. “Nathan Hayes, what is wrong with you? I ask you for a few predictions, and you say nothing? I have to follow some stranger’s advice? How am I supposed to hold my head up?” “Dad, what are you talking about? I don’t understand,” I played dumb. But he was done pretending. “Don’t call me your father. I don’t have a son like you!” He hung up. The dial tone buzzed in my ear. A wave of desolation washed over me. So my father was just using me too. But it didn’t matter. I was going to be rich. What was family compared to money?

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Mike Maxwell was famously devoted to his wife, a fact well-known in their circle. For me, he’d turned down a family-arranged marriage and doted on me for three years straight. But then, at his bachelor party, just before our wedding, his first love, the one who got away, asked him, “If I crashed your wedding and asked you to leave with me, would you?” And he, utterly serious, replied, “Yes.” Swallowing my tears, I messaged my best friend, Lexie Thorne, a billionaire heiress. “Can you get me out of here, like, now?” Seven minutes later, Lexie’s car screeched to a halt, tires practically smoking. “I told you, with your looks and personality, you should marry into old money and live the good life. My brother is gorgeous and refined, and my dad is still quite charming. Pick one!” 1 The wedding was just around the corner, and Mike’s best friends had thrown him a wild bachelor party. Everyone in his close-knit group knew how much Mike adored me. If I wasn’t with him, he’d inevitably rush home before ten, regardless of whether anyone else was having fun. So, this time, they’d enthusiastically invited me along. But the moment I stepped inside, I felt an odd tension in the air. Everyone greeted me warmly, yet kept subtly glancing at Mike, shooting him meaningful looks. I had no idea what was going on. Once everyone was seated, a short-haired girl finally arrived, a little late. “Sorry, traffic was a nightmare!” She was tall and slender, her voice clear and cheerful. Mike, beside me, immediately froze. It was the first time I’d ever seen someone’s face betray the precise moment their heart skipped a beat. The girl extended her hand to me, a friendly smile on her face. “You must be the bride-to-be! Nice to meet you, I’m Summer Reed!” The name hit me like a splash of cold water. Suddenly, everything clicked. This was Mike’s first love, the one he’d been infatuated with for five years. They said back then, before he became the composed man he was now, he pursued her relentlessly. Ten thousand roses beneath her window, a hundred feet of fireworks on the beach. His entire youth had revolved around her. But three years ago, she’d decisively followed another guy abroad for college. That’s when I met Mike. At that bar, Mike walked toward me through the hazy lights. I’d only had half a drink, yet I felt utterly intoxicated, practically begging my friends for information about him. When they nudged me in front of him, my tongue tied itself in knots. “I’m Primrose Day. Mr. Maxwell, may I ask your first name?” Laughter erupted around us. Mike, whose brow had been furrowed for months, finally relaxed into a smile. After we got together, Mike poured all his tenderness into me. He remembered every single thing I liked and disliked. No matter how late I worked, he insisted on picking me up himself. Every holiday brought a thoughtful gift from him. He posted about me constantly on his social media, introducing me to every friend and family member. Even his friends started to get jealous. “You’re really benefiting from someone else’s hard work, Primrose. Mike chased the toughest girl, perfected his emotional intelligence, and now you’re reaping the rewards.” Those comments never bothered me. Because they always added that, in looks and personality, I was completely different from that girl. I wasn’t a replacement. More importantly, I felt Mike’s love. After three years of passionate romance, he’d proposed to me with unwavering certainty. I thought our love was finally blossoming into happily ever after. But then, reality delivered a brutal punch. 2 Summer casually settled into the seat beside me. She pulled a bottle of perfume from her purse and offered it to me. “A wedding gift. This scent is incredibly sophisticated; I’ve worn it for seven or eight years.” She smiled, her eyes crinkling at the corners. I had to admit, she was graceful and charming. Even her wedding gift was for me, not Mike. I accepted it and thanked her. Then she pulled out her phone to add me on social media. “If anyone ever gives you trouble, remember to tell me. Even though Mike and I grew up together, I’m not playing the ‘family’ card. I’ll always have your back!” The friends around us applauded. “Still our fearless leader, Summer! Always so sharp!” Summer paused, then looked past me at Mike, who sat on my other side. “Hey, what’s up with you? Three years and you’ve become a man of so few words?” The others were drinking, gossiping, their eyes glued to the three of us, desperate not to miss any juicy drama. Mike’s ears visibly flushed. He couldn’t even bring himself to turn and look at her. He just held his drink, trying for a lighthearted tone. “Not few words, just… we’re strangers now. Don’t know what to say.” Summer laughed. “Is that my fault for not keeping in touch these past three years?” She raised her glass to him. “Then let’s keep in touch more often from now on?” Mike glanced at me. “My wife keeps me on a tight leash. If you want to connect with me, you’ll have to go through her first.” They exchanged smiles, a silent truce in the air, then clinked their glasses together. Everything was out in the open, no hidden meanings, just straightforward. But for some reason, sitting between them, my chest felt heavy. Maybe it was because, after three years together, I understood Mike’s body language intimately. Tonight, he was incredibly nervous. Drinks flowed, songs were sung, and games were played. As the party wound down, everyone was a little tipsy. Mike lost a round of ‘truth or dare’ to Summer and chose ‘truth’. Summer, who’d been impeccably composed all night, suddenly indulged in a moment of playful mischief. She tilted her head, a tipsy, coquettish glint in her eyes, and asked Mike: “If I showed up at your wedding to stop it, would you leave with me?” The question electrified the already boisterous crowd. “Oh, finally! You two aren’t pretending anymore!” “Yeah, that’s more like it!” “Tell us! Would you go with her?” Mike’s eyes were bloodshot from drinking. He looked at her, emotions swirling within him. Then, with unnerving sincerity, he replied, “Yes.” The crowd erupted. “No way! I knew it!” “Crash the wedding! Crash the wedding! Crash the wedding!” The cheers drew everyone’s attention. I sat between them, feeling my breath catch in my throat, my hands trembling. I didn’t know how to handle the awkwardness. Mumbling an excuse about the restroom, I fled the scene. Holding back tears, I sent Lexie a message: “Can you get me out of here, like, now?” Lexie’s call came immediately. “What happened? Are those jerks bothering you?” “No, just… don’t ask right now. Can you just come pick me up?” I felt on the verge of tears. Lexie’s voice sharpened with urgency, loud as a battle cry. “You wait right there, I’m coming! Ten minutes! No, seven minutes!” “It’s not that urgent, drive safely.” “Don’t tell me what to do!” 3 Seven minutes later, Lexie tore through the streets in her Bugatti, tires practically spitting sparks. The moment I saw her, my composure shattered, tears welling in my eyes. Lexie gripped my hand, her anger barely contained. “What did you jerks do to her?! Mike, are you blind? Can’t you see how upset she is?” Lexie, a billionaire heiress, was fiercely protective and commanded a powerful presence. Her arrival immediately silenced the entire group. Her gaze fell on Summer, instantly turning sharp. “Well, well, if it isn’t you.” Summer stood up and took my arm, a falsely sweet smile on her face. “We were just playing a game. Why are you getting so upset? I’m usually so blunt, this is my first time hanging out with such a delicate girl. I must have misjudged the situation, my bad.” Lexie yanked me behind her. “Don’t touch her! You’re not blunt, you’re just playing dumb!” By now, Mike had sobered up a bit. He rubbed his temples, stood up, and said, “Primrose is tired. I should take her home.” Lexie sneered. “I’m here now, you think we need you? Just keep playing dead.” Everyone stood awkwardly, watching Lexie gather my things. She muttered complaints as she did. “I told you ages ago, with your looks and personality, you should marry into old money and live the good life. But no, you had to go suffer with some nouveau riche. That kind of crowd, all backstabbing and fake, is no place for someone as innocent as you.” Mike’s family also had assets in the high nine figures. Nouveau riche with nine figures… quite a niche insult. But coming from Lexie, no one dared to argue. Lexie finished packing, picked up my bag, and spotted the exquisitely packaged perfume inside. Without a word, she pulled it out and tossed it on the floor. “What outdated garbage. Can’t believe you’d give this as a gift.” The bottle rolled across the floor, coming to a stop by Summer’s feet. Summer’s face fell. Lexie grabbed my hand and headed for the exit. Mike followed, catching me at the door. “Primrose, don’t be angry. In that atmosphere, with her suddenly asking that question, my mind went blank.” I looked into Mike’s earnest eyes and suddenly felt all my strength drain away. “You mean to say, it was your gut reaction, that you truly wanted to be with her?” “Of course not! Primrose, it was just a game. If I’d said no, she would’ve been humiliated in front of our friends.” “You’d rather trample my dignity to protect her feelings?” “I just gave her a polite answer; I’m offering you marriage.” I pulled away from him, a bitter laugh escaping me. “So, I’m the one who profited? Mike, three years together, and I never realized you’re such a master of playing both sides.” Just then, Lexie pulled up, honking impatiently. Mike tried to grab me again. “Let me take you home. We can talk properly on the way.” Lexie frowned. “If you’re so free, why don’t you drive your electric Bentley around as an Uber for a bit and clear your head?” Mike choked. His green-plated Bentley had never felt so humiliating. I opened the car door and slid inside. Looking back at Mike, I said, “Our wedding, let’s call it off. We both need to seriously reconsider things.” 4 On the drive home, I scrolled through my social media feed. I found two posts from Summer. The first: She really isn’t anything like me. But don’t you think that just makes it all the more obvious? The second: If you spent these three years trying to prove I was wrong to leave you, then… you succeeded. The emotions I’d held in all night finally broke free. I sobbed uncontrollably, mourning the three years of genuine affection I’d poured into Mike. I’d believed his unwavering devotion stemmed from love. Instead, it was just a performance for her. I was merely a pawn in their elaborate game. Lexie, being a straightforward person, wasn’t one for comforting words. She preferred direct solutions. “Stop crying. There are plenty of other men out there. Just find a new one. My brother is gorgeous and refined, and my dad is still quite charming. Pick one!” I cried until I was spent, then her words made me laugh. “Lexie, am I useless? Even now, you’re the one who has to stand up for me.” Lexie patted my head. “What foolishness are you talking about? Everyone’s different. My mom passed away early, leaving just us three, and we’re all a little… eccentric when it comes to expressing affection. I was rebellious as a kid and caused a lot of headaches, so I rarely got to be useful. But you, you’re naturally kind, a true angel. Every day with you is a breath of fresh air. And you’re the gentlest doctor with needles in the whole city. When I was hospitalized, I never would have made it through without you by my side, patiently comforting me every day.” Her words were soothing, rebuilding my shattered self-esteem. Lexie said, “Seriously, are you really not considering marrying into my family?” She’d said this many times. Lexie and I met when she was hospitalized. The chief physician was her attending doctor, and I was the assistant. But because I spoke softly and was gentle with injections, Lexie, being impulsive, insisted I become her attending physician. From then on, we formed a deep bond. I was already dating Mike at the time, and Lexie regretted it daily, practically slapping her thigh. “Why didn’t I get sick a few months earlier! Back then, you were single, and there was still hope I could bring you home as my sister-in-law!” The innocent bystander, Lexie’s older brother, Vincent Thorne—who had specifically returned from his vacation abroad to visit her—had his face turn black every time he heard it. Because of her relentless nagging, Vincent and I had a frosty relationship from the start. Whenever we met by chance, I’d awkwardly look down, and he’d awkwardly look away, both of us pretending not to see each other. Not long ago, Vincent returned from his studies abroad and joined our hospital. He even worked in the office right next to mine. The arrival of this cool, reserved, and utterly handsome doctor caused a stir throughout the hospital. Young women would find excuses to walk past his office multiple times a day. Even sick leave requests dropped. As for me, I had to hold my bladder during shifts, fearing I’d run into him too often in the hallway. Seeing my silence, Lexie became excited. “Your quiet means you’re seriously considering it, right? Have you decided? My brother or my dad?” My mouth twitched. “If those are the only two options, I’d rather pick your dad.” Lexie grew even more thrilled. “Great! I actually thought so too! My dad is older, so he’ll pass on sooner, and you can inherit his fortune early. Then we can hire male models every day! My brother won’t do; he’s got a super regular, healthy lifestyle, in peak condition. I’m afraid you wouldn’t outlive him.” Me: “…”

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My wife, eight months pregnant, ignored my pleas and insisted on going bungee jumping with her first love. Under the immense shock, her pregnancy abruptly terminated on the spot. As the surgeon, I painfully delivered the fully formed fetus with my own hands. On the hospital bed, still groggy from anesthesia, my wife kept whispering her first love’s name. “I jumped from three hundred feet with you. My love for you is witnessed by heaven and earth.” This time, I didn’t erupt in hysterical accusations. I simply laid a signed divorce agreement on the table, granting her freedom with a calm resolve. But then, she panicked. 1 The nurse, adjusting my IV drip, froze. Catching the pity in her eyes, I grew more irritable, retreating to the stairwell to light a cigarette. From my pocket, I pulled out a silver bracelet. I’d gone to the temple that weekend specifically to pray for our baby’s safe arrival. My sincere prayers hadn’t brought safety; instead, I was forced to kill my own child with my own hands. Like seven years of marriage, carving out a heart for a wife I loved, only for her heart to remain untouched. Equally ironic. As the cigarette burned down, my unwavering love for Serena, which had lasted seven years, turned to ashes. The nurse came running, flustered. “Dr. Thorne, you need to see Serena, she woke up crying nonstop.” Crying? This was all her own doing. What was there to cry about now? I stamped out the cigarette, my expression impassive, and walked into the hospital room. Serena’s face was ashen. She gripped my sleeve, tears streaming down her face. “How dare you abort my baby without my consent?” “He… was he a boy or a girl? Did he hurt? My poor baby…” Receiving no response or comfort, she choked out, her voice laced with incredulity. “The baby’s gone, and you don’t feel heartbroken? Do you even deserve to be a father?” I expressionlessly pried open her fingers, white from gripping my sleeve so tightly. She had no right to ask that question. From the moment she got pregnant, I’d meticulously cared for her every need, strictly followed nutritional meal plans, and even accompanied her to the bathroom at night to prevent any accidental slips. Yet, a casual comment from her first love was enough to make her disregard both her own life and our child’s to go bungee jumping. It seemed she realized this, as she guiltily avoided my icy gaze. “It’s okay, Quentin. Once I recover, we… we can have more children later.” “Go home and make some pigeon soup, and bring a few thick sets of pajamas.” She gradually calmed down, resuming her usual demanding tone with me. Normally, even if she just had a fever or a cold, I’d be on high alert, preparing everything in advance, without her needing to ask. But now, I didn’t even lift an eyelid, continuing to fill out medical records, responding flatly. “I’m busy. Order takeout, or ask Aiden to take care of you.” Serena stared at me in disbelief, as if trying to ascertain if she’d misheard. After a long moment of stunned silence, she suddenly scoffed. “It’s just jealousy, isn’t it, that I went bungee jumping with Aiden? That was a promise I made before I was pregnant. I’ve never been someone to break my word.” “I just had a miscarriage, I’m so weak, and you’re telling me to order takeout? Do you have any conscience?” Her voice grew sharper, drawing accusatory, disdainful glances from those around us. “Men these days, not a single one you can count on.” The passersby’s agreement made her expression even more triumphant. She lifted her chin, confidently waiting for me to back down. I snorted. “You have the nerve to play the victim, but you don’t have the nerve to admit why you miscarried?” With that, ignoring her face, which had turned beet red, I turned and left without looking back. Her furious, resentful shouts followed me. “Quentin Thorne, if you dare walk out of this room today, don’t even think about me having another child with you.” The only reply was my resolute back and the resounding slam of the door. I walked directly into the director’s office. “Director, is there still a spot for the innovative drug research and development program in the States?” The director, his face beaming, closed his files and stood up, pulling me to a seat. “Of course! That spot was always reserved for you, but you kept deferring it for Serena, almost letting another hospital snatch it up.” The innovative drug research was a confidential commercial project. Once committed, I wouldn’t be allowed any outside contact for three years. Serena was extremely dependent on me in her daily life, and with a baby on the way, I’d chosen family over career. The outcome, however, had slapped me hard in the face. Now, I had no ties. After discussing the details with the director, I took a few days off, wanting no further contact with Serena. She didn’t contact me either. This was her usual cold shoulder approach; I was happy for the quiet. However, she, who rarely posted on social media, suddenly updated her feed dozens of times. In the photos, Aiden affectionately linked arms with her, strolling through the hospital. The two of them were like a couple deeply in love, feeding each other strawberry cake. He made the cake himself, sweet to the core. Late at night, Aiden added a small bed next to hers. True feelings are revealed in times of trouble. So glad you’re always with me, unlike some scumbags. She hoped to provoke my insecurity, forcing me to apologize. But she didn’t know, these tricks only worked when I loved her. Turning off the screen, I unpinned her chat on my messenger app. The project required a lot of preparation, and I had no time for such trivialities. Walking out of the director’s office with my visa documents, I ran straight into Serena and Aiden, who were staring at me with amusement. She raised an eyebrow triumphantly, her tone dismissive. “I thought you’d show more backbone this time.” “You came to pick me up from the hospital, but didn’t bring a warm coat? Not as thoughtful as Aiden at all.” I responded flatly. “He certainly takes good care of you.” There were still many medical cases to digitize; I didn’t want to get into a pointless argument with her. I pulled out my car keys and headed towards the parking lot, leaving a bewildered Serena frozen in place. She hurried over, her face indignant, and stopped my hand as I reached for the car door. “Is it fun to always throw tantrums like this?” “You abandoned me at the hospital, and now you’re upset that Aiden came to take care of me?” Aiden walked over, arms crossed, an amused smirk on his face. “Quentin, I’m not trying to lecture you, but your wife went through so much after that miscarriage. How can you be so irresponsible as a husband? I had to run around for her at the hospital.” He emphasized the word ‘miscarriage,’ his tone arrogant, as if specifically reminding me that his casual joke could make Serena disregard her eight-month pregnancy to go bungee jumping with him. But now, those words couldn’t even stir a flicker of anger in me. I nodded expressionlessly. “Thank you for your trouble these past few days, Aiden.” Before I finished speaking, Serena rushed forward, enraged, and slapped me hard across the face. “Quentin, you’re so ungrateful! Aiden has done so much for me, and not only do you not thank him, your tone is so sarcastic, it disgusts me.” Not appeased, she shoved me forcefully. I hadn’t rested well after archiving medical files all night, so my steps were a bit unsteady. I stumbled back a few steps and fell to the ground, the back of my head hitting the sharp corner of the wall with a sickening thud. A searing pain shot through me. I instinctively touched it, and my palm came away bloody. Her expression shifted to alarm. She started to come over to help me. Aiden scoffed. “Tsk, even if Quentin left you alone these past few days, you shouldn’t resort to violence. Serena, that was out of line.” Serena’s face, which had just softened, instantly hardened again, her voice glacial. “Compared to what I went through with the miscarriage, a scraped knee for him is nothing. Leave him. Let’s go.” My chest ached with a bitter churning. Aiden always managed to inflame Serena’s anger towards me with just a few words. Even when I did nothing, I was always the bad guy. To Serena, blind and deluded, my very existence was the biggest mistake. If I hadn’t appeared, she could have openly rekindled her romance with Aiden. Such a simple truth, and it took me years of agony in this twisted relationship to understand. I struggled to my feet, clutching my wound, and walked back into the hospital. The emergency room doctor frowned, holding a tray of medical supplies, preparing to stitch me up. “This isn’t a good spot for anesthetic. Try to bear it.” The sharp needle pierced my skin. I gripped my palms tightly, a cold sweat breaking out from the pain. Back home, Serena was busy in the kitchen. The warm overhead light spilled over her, creating a soft glow around her. Aiden sat on the sofa, legs crossed, triumph almost oozing from his eyes. “Serena insisted on cooking for me herself to thank me. She said she was going to make sure I was well-fed tonight.” I twitched my lips, a bitter self-mockery. Two years of dating, seven years of marriage. Only now did I realize Serena wasn’t incapable of cooking; it was just that I wasn’t worthy of her cooking for me. Serena walked out with a bowl of hot soup. Seeing the bandage on my head, she paused slightly, a flicker of concern in her eyes. “Just a scrape, you said? Why does it need bandaging?” She put down the soup bowl and started to check my wound. But I pushed her hand away and walked straight into my study. Just a few more documents to organize, and I could fly to the States next week. She followed me, relentless. “Aiden took care of me for a few days, and you’re going to give me attitude just because I’m making him dinner?” I didn’t even lift an eyelid, continuing to read the documents in my hand. “You’re overthinking. I’m very busy right now. Go eat with him.” She was startled and angry, pointing at me, her voice suddenly rising, her eyes holding a hint of challenge. “Fine, playing the magnanimous one, huh? Then Aiden can stay the night. You don’t mind anything, do you?” I calmly replied, “Alright.” Serena’s mouth opened, her throat seeming to be clogged with something. Her scrutinizing gaze lingered on my face. Seeing my indifferent expression, not caring in the least, she couldn’t help but ask, “I’m letting Aiden stay over so late. Are you really not angry?” Angry? Why would I be angry? If it were the old Quentin, the moment he saw Aiden brazenly in our home late at night, he would have thrown a punch, let alone let him stay. But now, my heart was completely calm. I pushed up my glasses and replied, “I’ll sleep in the guest room tonight. You two can have the master bedroom.” That sentence instantly infuriated Serena. She slammed the door shut and left. I suddenly felt a little confused. Wasn’t this exactly what she’d always wanted? Now that I was openly allowing it, why was she still angry? After organizing the documents, I tiredly lay down on the bed. Half-asleep, Serena gently pushed the door open, climbed into bed, and wrapped her arms around my waist. “Quentin, you’ve become so strange these past few days.” “I know you’re still angry about the bungee jumping. I’m also heartbroken about the baby. Can we just stop fighting, please?” Seven years of marriage, and she had never once actively shown vulnerability to me. But this time, it was too late. I tried to push her away, but my hand brushed against a raised, uneven scar on her arm. When we were dating, she often came to the hospital to keep me company when I worked late. One time, there was a disgruntled patient. An emotionally unstable patient lunged at me with a knife. She bravely raised her arm to shield me. She, who would usually cry over a mere scrape, covered her bleeding arm and, in turn, comforted me. “It’s okay, it doesn’t hurt. You’re a doctor; your hands are precious.” Back then, she truly cared for me. But true feelings, they change in an instant. I let her hold me, leaving the last shred of dignity for this relationship. “I’m not angry. You just had a miscarriage. Get some rest.” Her arms tightened around me, her voice trembling slightly. “I knew you always cared about me. You’re just being stubborn, but your heart is soft.”

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I was known in Los Angeles as the ultimate “sister-girl,” and he was the notorious “brother-boy.” For the sake of our families’ interests, we entered into a strategic marriage. On our wedding night, I laid down three ground rules: separate rooms, live our own lives, and no interference. Yet, right in front of me, he slowly unbuttoned his shirt, his eyes deep with intent. “Not allowed, wifey.” My pupils dilated wildly; I thought I had stumbled upon a wolf in sheep’s clothing. Instead, he leaned into my ear, his voice a wronged and resentful whisper: “My brother said if you don’t fall in love with me, he’ll cut off my allowance.” 1 My wedding to Leonard Hadley was hailed as the best commercial alliance of the year in Los Angeles. The Swift and Hadley families had been locked in a bitter feud since before I could remember—the kind of rivalry where coffee mugs flew across boardrooms. Now, these two powerhouses were uniting through marriage. I, Lila Swift, the younger daughter of the Swift family, was a professional slacker, content to be supported by my older sister, Olivia. He, Leonard Hadley, the second son of the Hadley family, was an enigmatic figure living under the formidable shadow of his older brother, Arthur Hadley. I was known in our circles as a devoted “sister-girl,” with Olivia, the woman who single-handedly took a company public, setting my only KPI as “just be happy.” Leonard, on the other hand, was rumored to be the ultimate “brother-boy,” with his brother Arthur supposedly handling everything for him. They even said if Leonard sneezed, Arthur would send someone to check the humidity levels. To outsiders, our union was merely a strategic exchange of resources between two giant corporations, using their “unremarkable” offspring. I didn’t care; my life goal was to just coast by. Leonard seemed equally unfazed. They said he didn’t even lift an eyelid when he signed the marriage certificate. At the wedding, our forced smiles ached my cheeks. Finally, on our wedding night, I kicked off my heels and collapsed onto the enormous matrimonial bed, feeling my soul ascend. Leonard walked in, his suit impeccable, his face still bearing that aloof “don’t mess with me, my brother is terrifying” expression. I cleared my throat and pulled out the pre-prepared post-nuptial agreement. “Leonard, let’s be upfront.” I slapped the agreement on the nightstand: “First, separate rooms. This mansion has plenty.” “Second, independent finances. We’ll live our own lives, no meddling. For appearances, we’ll act like a loving couple when necessary, mostly for our families.” “Third, and most importantly, don’t fall in love with me. It won’t end well.” Having laid down the law, I struck what I thought was a cool and indifferent pose, waiting for him to gratefully sign. Leonard listened in silence, not bothering to look at the agreement. He just looked at me, his handsome, almond-shaped eyes narrowing slightly, and then he smiled. That smile, how should I put it? Three parts amusement, seven parts absolute certainty. My heart skipped a beat. Something was off. This wasn’t the script. Shouldn’t he be sighing in relief and saying, “Exactly what I wanted”? The next second, right in front of me, he slowly, button by button, undid his shirt. His muscular chest and chiseled abs were faintly visible under the crystal chandelier. A wave of pure pheromones washed over me. I froze, alarm bells blaring in my head. Oh God! Was this ‘brother-boy’ just an act? Is he actually a cunning wolf in sheep’s clothing? Is a business marriage really a package deal that includes losing my virginity? Olivia! Save me! He stepped closer, his tall frame completely engulfing me. I swallowed hard, my body instinctively shrinking back. “You… what do you want? I’m warning you, forced love doesn’t last!” He leaned over, his hands bracing on either side of my body, trapping me between the headboard and him. His warm breath tickled my ear. “Not allowed, wifey.” His voice was deep and magnetic, carrying a hint of seduction. My mind went blank, my pupils dilating wildly. This is it! My virtue is doomed tonight! How am I going to explain this to Olivia? Just as I was about to scream and perhaps grab the bedside lamp to physically “enlighten” him, he leaned in closer, his voice a low, injured whisper meant only for me: “My brother said if you don’t fall in love with me, he’ll cut off my allowance.” Me: “?” I slowly formed a question mark in my mind. What the hell? Did I just imagine that? Seeing my bewildered expression, he sighed, pulled out his phone from his inner jacket pocket, and showed me a chat log. The contact was saved as [My Only Bro]. The latest message clearly read: [You have three months to make your wife, Lila, fall head over heels for you. Fail, and you can work for the rest of your life to earn money for your sports cars and game skins.] I: “…” Leonard put away his phone, looking utterly devastated: “So, wifey, for the sake of my sports cars and skins, just make a small sacrifice and fall in love with me.” I looked at his face, handsome enough to make gods and men alike swoon, and his expression of tragic heroism, as if sacrificing everything for his KPI. For a moment, I didn’t know whether to mock his romantic cluelessness or pity him for having such a devilish brother. This marriage was getting weirder by the minute. 2 On the first day of our marriage, I gained an entirely new understanding of my “brother-boy” husband. He wasn’t a cunning wolf; he was just… a rich man’s clueless son. Driven by the KPI his brother had set, he launched his “love pursuit” mission bright and early. I was still dreaming of swimming with the Hermès bags my sister bought me when I was choked awake by a strong smell of burning. Rushing to the kitchen, I saw Leonard, dressed in six-figure pajamas, staring blankly at an unrecognizable, charred object. Next to him, the expensive German-imported oven was beeping furiously, spewing thick smoke. “Leonard, what are you doing? Alchemy?” I was aghast. He turned to me, two smudges of soot on his face making him look adorably innocent. “My brother said that to capture a woman’s heart, you must first capture her stomach. I was making you a loving breakfast.” He pointed at the black, unknown object: “This is French toast. It’s just that the cooking time might have been… slightly over.” I looked at the “toast” that could double as a weapon, then at his innocent face, and fell into a deep contemplation. His brother was a devil, and he himself seemed to be a few screws loose. In the end, we both sat in the million-dollar kitchen, slurping instant noodles, for our first breakfast as a married couple. “Wifey,” he mumbled, noodles hanging from his mouth, “do you think my performance today managed to spark even a tiny bit of affection in you?” I stared at him blankly: “Yes, it did, in a ‘whatever’ kind of way.” His eyes lit up: “Really?” “Really,” I nodded. “Right now, I want to pack you up and send you back to your brother, telling him this KPI is too hard, and I quit.” His face instantly fell, like a giant golden retriever abandoned. “Don’t, wifey, I can still try harder!” I ignored him, finished my noodles, and went back to bed to catch up on sleep. This marriage was becoming more of a joke every day, and I was the audience who couldn’t laugh. In the evening, both families planned a dinner, a sort of post-wedding homecoming gathering. The venue was an exclusive club with absolute privacy. Olivia came to pick me up, her sharp eyes scanning me like an X-ray the moment I got into the car. “He didn’t do anything to you, did he?” “Sis, you’re overthinking,” I yawned. “What could he do to me? He can’t even toast bread.” Olivia snorted: “I wouldn’t expect him to dare. What good could Arthur, that eternal iceberg, teach his brother?” A thought sparked in my mind: “Sis, are you very close to Arthur?” “Not at all,” Olivia’s expression instantly cooled by three degrees. “Just a business rival.” I felt something was off, but I couldn’t quite pinpoint it. When we arrived at the private room in the club, my parents and Leonard’s parents were already there, the four elders beaming as if they could already envision the glorious future of our merged families conquering Wall Street and Nasdaq. Leonard and I were made to sit together. He leaned in discreetly: “Wifey, I’ll peel shrimp for you later. My brother says girls like that.” I rolled my eyes: “Just don’t feed me the shells.” Just then, the door to the private room opened. My sister, Olivia, walked in, striking in a sharp black suit, her presence commanding. Almost simultaneously, another man entered. He wore a custom-tailored suit of the same color, his figure tall and handsome, but the atmospheric pressure around him was low enough to freeze penguins. Everyone there, except Leonard, knew him—Arthur Hadley, the true power behind the Hadley family. I clearly saw that the moment Olivia saw Arthur, a tiny crack appeared on her perpetually icy face. And Arthur, upon seeing Olivia, his gaze abruptly narrowed, as if he’d witnessed something incredible. The air instantly froze. The smiles on the elders’ faces also stiffened. My dad and mom exchanged glances, while Leonard’s parents awkwardly coughed. Only Leonard and I, the two clueless ones, remained oblivious. “Bro, why are you here?” Leonard stood up, surprised and delighted. “Sis, I thought you said you weren’t coming?” I was equally astonished. Olivia ignored me. Arthur ignored Leonard. Their gazes, like invisible swords, clashed and fought fiercely in the air, sparks flying. It was then that I belatedly realized… The “business rival” Olivia mentioned. And the “only brother” my husband spoke of. They seemed… a little too “unfamiliar” with each other. After a long moment, Olivia spoke first, her voice so cold it seemed to drop ice shards. “Mr. Hadley, what a coincidence.” Arthur’s thin lips curved into a chilling smile. “Ms. Swift, no coincidence. I’m here for my brother’s family dinner.” His gaze swept over me, then landed on Leonard, and finally, precisely fixed on Olivia’s face, as he said, word by word: “I didn’t realize my brother’s wife was… your sister.” Boom— My mind felt like it had been hit by an atomic bomb. I finally understood. My sister’s arch-nemesis. My husband’s own brother. I… I… I… I married my sister’s arch-nemesis’s brother?! What was this? A marriage of convenience? Or an undercover mission deep into enemy territory? I looked at my sister’s murderous face, Arthur’s face that looked ready to self-destruct, and then at Leonard, still utterly bewildered. I felt like our four relationships were more tangled than a spider’s web in a forgotten cave. This dinner was beyond salvage. 3 That “unpleasant dinner” ultimately ended with the elders awkwardly making excuses to leave, Olivia and Arthur staring daggers at each other, and Leonard and I shivering in fear. On the way home, I sat in Olivia’s car, barely daring to breathe. Olivia drove, her fingers gripping the steering wheel, knuckles white, as if it wasn’t a wheel but Arthur’s neck. “Lila.” She finally spoke. “Here!” I snapped to attention. “From today, your mission has changed.” “Huh?” “Make his life miserable,” Olivia’s voice was devoid of warmth. “Make his brother feel the pain, make his brother come begging to me.” I: “…” Sis, are you asking me to stage a domestic drama or a spy thriller? On the other side, Leonard had also been taken away by his brother. According to him, his brother remained silent in the car for half an hour, only to utter one sentence at the end: “Keep her happy, keep her sister happy, and make sure her sister doesn’t go crazy again.” And so, Leonard and I, two couch potatoes who had only wanted to chill, became pawns in our siblings’ war overnight. Our marriage, which began as a mere business agreement, escalated into a silent battlefield. The next day, we met at the restaurant, both sporting heavy dark circles under our eyes. “Good morning, wifey.” Leonard greeted me weakly. “It’s anything but.” My face was ashen. We exchanged glances, seeing four words clearly written in each other’s eyes: Life is hopeless. “My sister said…” “My brother said…” We both spoke at the same time, then stopped. “You first,” I gestured. Leonard wore a tragic expression: “My brother wants me to take you shopping today, make you happy, and ideally, make sure your sister knows how happy you are.” I scoffed: “Funny, my sister wants me to drive you half-crazy today, and ideally, make sure your brother knows you’re on the verge of a breakdown.” Leonard: “…” I: “…” How were we supposed to do this job? We sat at opposite ends of the long dining table, staring at each other, speechless, with only tears flowing. Finally, I slammed my hand on the table. “Let’s go! Shopping!” Leonard’s eyes lit up: “Wifey, you’re willing to cooperate?” “Cooperate my ass!” I snarled. “If I don’t max out your card today, my name isn’t Swift!” I was going to fulfill my sister’s mission! Drive him crazy! Make his brother’s heart ache! Far from being angry, Leonard looked relieved, as if I was finally catching on. “No problem, wifey! My brother gave me a secondary card, no limit! Spend as much as you want! The more you spend, the more he’ll know how happy I’m making you!” I: “?” This logic… seemed to make sense, and yet felt utterly flawed. And so, an utterly bizarre scene unfolded in the luxury boutiques of Los Angeles. I, Lila Swift, would emotionlessly point at a row of bags: “Take everything but the green one.” The sales assistant would be so excited she nearly fainted. Meanwhile, Leonard, behind me, would be smiling even wider than the assistant, swiping his card and cheering me on. “Wifey! Go, go, go! This color is lovely too! Buy it!” “Wifey! This collection is new! Get them all!” “Wifey! Are you tired? Want to rest before round two?” I carried my bags and felt like an emotionless shopping robot. Leonard, on the other hand, was like a cheerleader on a sugar high. Passersby would point and whisper. “Oh my god, is that Leonard Hadley and his new wife? He spoils her so much!” “Yes, yes, look how pale Ms. Swift looks from anger, and Mr. Hadley is still trying to coax her into buying more!” “What kind of fairy-tale romance is this! I’m so jealous!” Hearing the whispers around me, I nearly spat out a mouthful of blood. Pale from anger? I was pale from exhaustion! I was just utterly bewildered by his bizarre tactics! That afternoon, I spent a figure with eight digits on his card. I was dead tired, slumped in the car, unwilling to move. Leonard, however, was full of energy, snapping photos of every receipt, bundling them up, and sending them to his brother. Then, he handed me his phone. [My Only Bro] replied with two words: [Not bad.] Leonard looked at me expectantly, as if seeking praise: “Wifey, look, my brother is very pleased. You worked hard today, this is your reward.” He magically produced a small box from behind his back. I opened it to find a dazzling diamond necklace. “This is…” “The one you looked at twice earlier,” he smiled like an idiot. “I secretly bought it for you. Do you like it?” I looked at the necklace, then at his hopeful eyes. I suddenly felt that Olivia’s mission for me might be… a little challenging. Because this man… he just couldn’t be angered to death! 4 My plan to exasperate Leonard to death ended with me utterly exhausted, his brother pleased, and me unexpectedly receiving a diamond necklace. Total failure. I wasn’t having it. I, Lila Swift, queen of slacking, could not fail at a single KPI! I started contemplating a more sophisticated approach. Soon, an opportunity arose. The Hadley family was hosting a grand business gala to celebrate our “wedding of the century.” All the influential figures in Los Angeles would be in attendance. My sister, Olivia, would also be there. This was practically a tailor-made stage for my social demise plan! I confidently told Olivia: “Sis, don’t worry, this time I’ll make Leonard lose face in front of all of Los Angeles, and make his brother furious enough to have a heart attack!” Olivia raised an eyebrow, giving me a look that said, “I have high hopes for you.” On the night of the gala, I wore a striking red gown, my arm linked with Leonard’s, as we gracefully entered the venue. Leonard was in a pristine white tuxedo, looking like a prince. My inner devil was roaring: Soon, I’ll turn you into a drowned rat! My plan was simple: In front of everyone, I would pretend to slip and “accidentally” spill my glass of red wine all over his pristine white suit. White with red, the visual effect would be absolutely explosive. A distinguished young gentleman, at his own family’s gala, splattered like a red and white polka-dotted dog by his new wife. The image alone was thrilling to imagine. Leonard would surely be socially annihilated on the spot, and his brother Arthur’s face would be slapped repeatedly. Perfect! I congratulated myself on my brilliant plan. The opportunity quickly presented itself. The emcee invited us onto the stage to receive everyone’s blessings. Spotlights shone on us, and countless eyes from the audience were fixed on our every move. I held my wine glass, adjusted my angle, took a deep breath, and leaned slightly— Faster than words could tell, before I could even “slip,” Leonard suddenly stumbled. He stepped on the hem of my gown. I: “!” Before I could react, I completely lost my balance and tumbled forward. The red wine glass flew from my hand, tracing a graceful red arc through the air, and then… Splat! It landed precisely on Leonard’s head. The wine dripped down his hair, staining his handsome face crimson, and his white suit was utterly ruined. As for me, I plunged headfirst into his arms. The entire hall fell into a deathly silence. I could hear the collective gasp of countless people. I was stunned. This wasn’t how the script was supposed to go! I just wanted to spill wine on him, not crack his head open! Leonard was equally bewildered. He looked down at me in his arms, then felt his wine-soaked hair, his eyes filled with confusion. “Wifey… is this… an overly passionate display of love?” I: “…” I wanted to die on the spot. Just then, something even more absurd happened. Leonard tripped over something else, dragging me down with him. We tumbled like rolling gourds, knocking over the champagne tower behind us. Crash! Hundreds of champagne flutes shattered on the floor, golden liquid splattering everywhere. The scene descended into utter chaos, like something out of a disaster movie. Leonard and I lay amidst the wreckage, drenched head to toe in champagne. I closed my eyes in utter despair. So this is what social death felt like. It was over. My sister’s mission failed, Leonard’s mission failed, and the honor of both the Swift and Hadley families was completely sunk in the Pacific Ocean today. I felt two deadly gazes from Olivia and Arthur, threatening to flay us alive. In the midst of the chaos, Leonard struggled to his feet and then pulled me up. I expected him to erupt in anger, or at least question me. Instead, he surveyed the wreckage, looked at our disheveled selves, and then, surprisingly, gave me a thumbs-up. His eyes were sparkling, filled with the excitement of having narrowly escaped death. “Wifey, well done!” I: “???” You call this well done? He leaned in, his voice a low, excited whisper: “My brother will definitely feel so sorry for me seeing us like this! He’ll think I suffered so much just to make you happy! This month’s bonus is guaranteed! No, it has to be double!” My brain crashed instantly. I looked at his sincere and radiant smile, then at my sister’s face, which looked ready to faint from sheer exasperation. I finally understood. Leonard’s and my thought processes were probably a galaxy apart. I tried to make him socially annihilate himself, but he thought I was helping him achieve his KPI. This battle was unwinnable. I, Lila Swift, surrendered.

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