Author: Momo Chan

1 To boost Joey’s live stream, my brothers locked me in a commercial freezer. “Three hours,” Marcus promised. “We’ll watch the temp. You’ll be fine.” Owen smiled. “If anything goes wrong, we’ll shut it down.” Desperate to belong, I agreed. But the stream didn’t end. As viewership soared, they extended it, and the temperature kept dropping. Through the window, Joey watched the numbers climb, eyes bright with greed. I tried the emergency release. It was jammed. I pounded the steel, begging for help. Marcus frowned. “It’s barely freezing. Stop the drama.” Owen nodded. “Joey’s finally happy. Don’t ruin it.” Finn waved casually. “Hang tight. We’ll let you out at a hundred thousand followers.” They didn’t understand. I wasn’t chilly. I was freezing to death. And that sweater they gave me? Not rated for extreme cold at all. The cold crept up my limbs, wrapping around my chest like iron bands. My teeth chattered so violently I could barely speak, and my legs threatened to give out. My voice was nothing but a raspy whisper. “Please, guys, I am not lying,” I sobbed, clutching my phone with trembling fingers. “I am so cold. My head is spinning, and I can not feel my hands. Please just let me out. I will do whatever you want, I promise. Just let me out.” Marcus’s face darkened through the small hatch. “Iris! Enough. I have been patient with you, but this is ridiculous. Do you think I am stupid? The thermostat says it is perfectly safe. You have really improved your acting skills, I will give you that.” “I am not…” I tried to speak, but my fingers went completely numb, and the phone slipped from my grasp, clattering onto the icy floor. I clawed at the heavy door, desperately pounding my fists against it. “Send someone in to check the temperature! If I am lying, I will take whatever punishment you want. Please, Marcus, I am begging you!” For a split second, Marcus’s cold expression wavered. Owen seemed uneasy as he watched my desperate clawing. “Marcus, do you think she is telling the truth? Maybe we should just let her out for a minute.” Marcus opened his mouth to reply, but before he could speak, Joey slid over, her lower lip trembling. “Why does Iris always have to make things up? The monitor clearly shows it is a comfortable sixty degrees in there. Does she hate me that much? Does she really want to ruin my big day?” She squeezed out a few tears, looking small and fragile. Instantly, Finn stepped forward, pulling Joey into a protective embrace. “I knew it! She is faking it. Iris, you are pathetic. How could you lie about something like this just to steal Joey’s spotlight?” He glared at the window. “It is just a few hours in a chilly room. Why do you have to act like a martyr? Joey is so sweet, and you can not even do this one small thing for her. You are just bitter and jealous!” Marcus’s gaze turned completely icy. Owen sighed, giving me a disappointed look. “Iris, I know this is hard, but just bear with it. Think of it as a quiet break. I promise I will let you out in three hours. Be good.” “I am not lying! I am really not!” I screamed, biting my tongue in my desperation. “Stop throwing a tantrum,” Owen said gently but firmly. “We will get you out soon.” A sharp click echoed as they slammed the small metal viewing hatch shut, cutting off the last sliver of light and my final shred of hope. I gritted my teeth and curled into a tight ball in the corner, trying to press myself against the wall for warmth, but the surface was covered in a thick layer of frost. The cold seeped directly into my bones. High up in the corner, the security camera blinked, streaming my slow demise to thousands of strangers. With trembling hands, I picked up my phone and opened the live stream. The viewer count had reached ten thousand, and the chat was flying by. Whoa, is she actually in a real freezer? Her face looks awful. Isn’t this dangerous? She looks like a literal corpse. Streamer, be careful. Damn, I thought other channels used green screens, but this girl is actually doing it. Dedication! “Make sure to hit that follow button, guys! Of course it is real. I would never lie to my favorite followers!” Joey’s sweet, high pitched voice echoed through the stream app. The chat went wild. Aww, she is so cute. Definitely dropping a follow! I struggled to keep my eyes open, watching the colorful gift animations flash across my screen. My mind was growing foggy. I had to do something, or I was going to die here. I looked up at the digital thermometer on the inner wall. It read negative twenty degrees. And I was wearing nothing but a cheap, thin cotton shirt I bought from a street vendor for a few dollars. It offered absolutely no protection. With shaking fingers, I dialed Owen. “Owen, please,” I sobbed. “I am freezing. Tell them to turn the temperature up. Please.” “Iris, just hold on a little longer…” Owen started, but his voice was suddenly cut off as the phone was snatched away. “Iris, why do you keep lying?” Joey’s voice came through the receiver, dripping with fake innocence. “Why do you hate me so much? The remote over here says it is sixty degrees. Why are you trying to trick Owen?” “I am not… the thermostat is broken! If you don’t believe me, just come inside and feel it…” “Iris, that is enough!” Finn’s harsh voice cut in, booming through the speaker. “Joey is just trying to build her brand and have some fun. Why do you have to be so toxic? You are making it sound like we are abusing you.” “Don’t think I don’t know what you are doing. You are putting on a show to get sympathy from the viewers. Well, it is not going to work!” The line went dead with a harsh beep. When I tried to call back, the call would not go through. They had blocked my number. The icy chill invaded my chest, slowing my heartbeat. The digital numbers on the wall kept dropping. Desperate, I turned to the only link I had left to the outside world: the live chat. I typed a message: Please help me. I am locked in a real walk in freezer. The thermostat is broken and I am freezing to death. The chat went wild. Wait, is she actually trapped? This isn’t just an act? I knew she looked off. Her lips are literally blue. Streamer, let her out! Yeah, this is getting weird. Don’t let someone actually die for views. A spark of hope flared in my chest, but Joey quickly crushed it. “Don’t worry, everyone! It is all part of the act. We would never actually lock her in a real freezer. If it were real, I would be more worried than anyone!” The skepticism in the chat quickly faded. Panicking, I tried to type another warning, only to find a red notification flashing across my screen: You have been muted by the host. With the last of my strength, I dragged myself to the camera, waving my arms and screaming for help, but Joey spoke before the viewers could question it. “Don’t worry, guys! This is just our special effects makeup demonstration. Stay tuned, because she is going to show you what severe frostbite looks like soon!” The chat calmed down immediately. Oh, wow, her acting is incredible! This channel is so high effort. Definitely worth a subscribe. This looks way more realistic than other streams! Outside the heavy door, Owen stared at the screen. He watched my pale, trembling form sway and collapse onto the floor, and a seed of doubt began to grow in his mind. “Do you think the thermostat could actually be malfunctioning?” Owen muttered, stepping toward the heavy door handle. “She looks really bad. Maybe we should just let her out now.” Joey quickly grabbed his arm, her eyes wide with desperation. “No, Owen, please! I am so close to ten thousand followers! Just a little longer, please. Once I hit my goal, we will let her out.” “Besides, we checked the room beforehand. The remote says it is a comfortable sixty degrees. She has to be faking it just to make you guys feel guilty and hate me.” She looked up at him with teary eyes, the picture of vulnerability. Finn stepped between Owen and the door. “Joey is right, Owen. Joey would never let anyone actually get hurt. Iris is just playing her usual games. Have you forgotten how she pushed Joey down the stairs and threatened her? If we don’t teach her a lesson now, she will keep tormenting Joey.” Owen’s face hardened. “She pushed you?” Marcus’s eyes narrowed. “Iris has gone too far this time. She deserves to spend the night in there to think about what she has done.” “But what if she gets sick?” Joey sniffled, wiping away a stray tear. “You are too soft, Joey,” Finn said, patting her shoulder. “That is why she thinks she can walk all over you. Come on, let us go get some dinner and leave her to cool off.” Finn led Joey away, and Marcus followed. Owen hesitated, casting one last look at the massive steel door, but eventually, he turned and walked away too. In the virtual world, thousands cheered for my masterpiece of a performance, dropping virtual gifts and clapping for my dedication. Inside the dark chamber, I finally gave out. My knees buckled, and I crashed face first onto the frozen floor. The biting cold rushed into my body from every angle. I could not feel the impact. I could not feel the pain. There was only a heavy, crushing numbness spreading through my chest. Marcus, Owen, Finn… I was not lying to you. I am really dying. My eyes fluttered shut, and the darkness claimed me. I do not know how much time passed before a strange weightlessness washed over me. Slowly, my soul drifted upward, leaving my frozen shell behind. I floated in the air, watching the tragic farce unfold below. The stream was still active. The comments kept rolling in. Damn, she has been lying there for four hours. Talk about commitment to the role! The fake fog effect is so realistic. With acting like this, she should go to Hollywood. She would be famous instantly! A profound, hollow sadness filled my spirit. I drifted through the thick metal door, floating toward the brightly lit dining room of the mansion. The dining table was filled with food. Joey sat at the center, smiling warmly. Marcus was carefully peeling shrimp for her, placing them on her plate. Owen was busy scooping her favorite side dishes, while Finn brought out a fresh plate of sweet and sour ribs. “Joey, I made these just for you. Your favorite. Try some.” “Thank you, guys!” Joey giggled, her cheeks full of food. “Slow down, sweetie,” Marcus said softly, wiping a speck of sauce from her chin with a napkin. Watching them, a dull ache throbbed in my chest. The warmth, the love, the sense of family that I had spent my entire life craving, the things I had practically died trying to earn, were handed to Joey so effortlessly. Had I been wrong from the very beginning? Maybe I should have never let them find me. Maybe I should have never come back, trying so desperately to earn a place in their hearts. If I hadn’t, I would still be alive. “By the way, Iris must be hungry by now,” Owen muttered, looking at the leftover food. “Maybe I should bring her a plate.” Owen, if only you knew that I am already a corpse in that freezing room. Before Owen could pick up a plate, Joey stopped him. “I already asked the housekeeper to take some food to her earlier. She is fine, Owen.” Owen paused. Finn frowned in annoyance. “If she already ate, she won’t want any more. Besides, I only made a small batch of these ribs. If you give them away, what is Joey going to eat?” “It is okay, Finn,” Joey said sweetly. “No way. My little sister needs to eat well. You are already too thin.” Tears slipped silently down my ghostly cheeks. I was already dead, so why did my heart still hurt so much? For the rest of the evening, my name was never mentioned again. They finished their dinner and headed upstairs. “Should we really leave Iris in there all night?” Owen asked, hesitating near the stairs. Marcus scowled. “Leave her. She needs to reflect on her actions. Besides, she has plenty of warm clothes, and the temperature isn’t that low. She will survive a night of discomfort.” “Exactly, Owen,” Finn agreed. “She targeted Joey. She needs to learn that her actions have consequences. We can not let her bully Joey just because she shares our blood.” Joey sniffled, hanging her head. “Please don’t fight because of me. Finn is right. I am not your real sister anyway. It is only natural that you would care about her more. I shouldn’t be here. I will just pack my things and leave.” She wiped her nose and ran toward the front door, but Finn quickly caught her. “Joey, stop. You are our sister, and you always will be. We only brought Iris back because we felt obligated to. Owen, tell her!” A flash of conflict crossed Owen’s face, but it quickly faded. “Finn is right, Joey. You will always be our only little sister. Now, stop crying and go get some sleep.” After they took turns comforting her, Joey finally returned to her bedroom, a small, triumphant smirk playing on her lips when they weren’t looking. The next morning, a blood curdling scream shattered the peace of the mansion. A worker hired to clean the storage units ran into the main hall, gasping for air. “Help! Someone is dead! There is a frozen body in the walk in freezer!” Marcus, who was walking down the stairs, froze. Owen and Finn, right behind him, stared in shock. Joey stepped out of her room, her face pale but her voice sharp. “A dead body? You are probably just another actor Iris hired to pull another one of her pathetic stunts!” As if snapping out of a trance, Finn sneered. “Exactly. The temperature in there was barely cool. How could anyone freeze to death? Did Iris tell you to say this to get our attention? Tell her she is not fooling anyone.” Marcus crossed his arms, his expression hardening. “Go tell Iris that if she wants our attention, she needs to find a better way than this tasteless prank.” Owen adjusted his glasses. “There is a manual release valve inside that freezer. Anyone could open it from the inside at any time. Your story makes no sense.” “What are you people talking about?” the worker yelled, his hands shaking. “I don’t know any Iris! I am just a cleaning guy! Why would I lie to you? The temperature in that freezer was minus thirty degrees all night! The body is stiff as a board! And the manual release valve is completely broken. It was sabotaged from the outside! If you don’t believe me, go look for yourselves!” But his words didn’t bring fear, only deep annoyance. “That is impossible,” Marcus snapped. “I checked it myself! It was working perfectly!” Finn ran a hand through his hair, his temper flaring. “I am going to see what kind of game she is playing this time. She is in so much trouble.” They marched to the freezer. Finn kicked the heavy door open. “Iris! Get out here! Do you think this is funny? You hired a guy to lie to us just because we locked you in for one night? If you keep acting like this, don’t bother coming back!” Marcus sighed. “Iris, stop this. Come out.” “Yes, Iris, please come out,” Joey whimpered behind them. “It is all my fault. I will leave, just please stop fighting with the boys.” My ghost hovered nearby, watching them. A bitter pang hit me. Even now, they would rather believe I was a manipulative liar than accept that I was gone. With no response from inside, Finn stormed into the freezing chamber. “Iris! Stop playing dead! Do you really think hiding in here is going to solve anything?” His eyes swept across the dark, frosty room, finally landing on my slumped figure right in front of the camera. He marched over, grabbing my shoulder roughly. “Iris, you…” But the moment his bare hand touched my skin, he froze.

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1 I went to bring my dad a Father’s Day gift, only to discover he was hiding a child in his office. I told my mom about it as soon as I got home. Mom looked at me, only half believing it. “How old is this child?” she asked. I thought about it seriously. “Probably about the same age as Dad.” Mom burst out laughing, her shoulders shaking. “Your father couldn’t possibly have a child that old!” But Dad definitely called her baby. I heard him. He had said, “Aww, look at you! My baby ate every single bite from her baby bowl today. What a good girl!” And then, “What kind of cake do you want, baby? I will go buy it for you as soon as I finish working, okay?” Dad only ever called me baby, and I was the only one who used a baby bowl. So, that person had to be Dad’s other daughter. But Mom didn’t believe me. The next day, though, Mom saw the child Dad was hiding in his office for herself. A daughter who was clearly the same age as Dad, yet sat on the floor playing with plastic toys. Mom took me to Dad’s office to deliver the Father’s Day gift we couldn’t give him the day before. When the office door opened, Dad was cradling a weeping woman in his arms. She was about his age, but just like me, she was sitting on the carpet playing with plastic blocks. Even the way she sobbed was just like me. I looked up at Mom and whispered, “See? That is the child Dad is hiding.” But this time, Mom didn’t laugh or tell me I was making things up. Instead, her entire body began to tremble, as if she were facing her worst nightmare. “When did Miss Violet get back?” Mom asked, her voice cracking. Dad ignored Mom, waiting until the woman in his arms stopped crying. Then, he looked up with a cold glare. “A year ago.” “Do you have any idea what she went through this past year?” “She ended up like this because of you! No, because of both of us. We are both killers!” I didn’t understand what Dad meant, but I could see the blazing fury in his eyes. Terrified, I stood on tip toe and held out the Father’s Day gift I had been clutching. It was a photo album Mom and I had made together, filled with pictures of the three of us. “Happy Father’s Day, Daddy,” I whispered, my voice as quiet as a mouse. Dad took it, but he just tossed it onto the edge of his desk without looking. He turned back to Mom. “Violet came back to the country last year. When she found out we were married and had a child, she lost her mind trying to find me. She got into a terrible car accident on the way. Ever since, her mind has been stuck at the age of an eight year old. She only has brief moments of clarity.” Mom took a step back, looking as if she had been struck. She shook her head, her fists clenched so tightly her knuckles turned as white as her face. “When she went abroad, she had already broken up with you,” Mom whispered. “You only started pursuing me after the breakup, and we married two years later.” With a loud slam, Dad brought his fist down on the desk. The album slid off the edge, falling softly to the carpet, unnoticed by anyone. He gritted his teeth. “That was because I had no idea she still loved me! If I knew she only left because she was forced to, and that she still had feelings for me, do you think I ever would have married you?” Dad stopped himself, but the damage was done. Tears flowed down Mom’s pale cheeks. I had never seen Dad look so red with rage, or Mom look so utterly broken. Terrified, I burst into tears. It was all my fault. If I hadn’t mistaken that woman for a child, they wouldn’t be fighting like this. I finally understood that this child was actually a sick adult. That was why she acted like a little girl. Mom pulled me into her arms, gently rubbing my back to soothe me. After a long, heavy silence, Dad seemed to realize he had been too aggressive. He lowered his voice, but his words were resolute. “I cannot leave Violet behind. I am going to take care of her for the rest of her life.” Before he could finish, the woman suddenly giggled. She stood up and wandered toward us, stepping right on my photo album. Her dirty shoe left a dark footprint right over our family portrait. I wanted to run over and pick it up, but Mom suddenly stood straight. She looked at Violet’s beautiful dress, then down at her own faded, wrinkled clothes. I noticed that even though Violet was sick, she wore a gorgeous designer dress, and her hair was styled perfectly. She looked just like a princess in a castle. She pointed at Mom and laughed. “I remember you! You are the housekeeper’s daughter! Why are you just standing there like a statue? Come play house with me!” Mom did not argue. She did not say a word. She just lowered her head and meekly picked up the plastic blocks from the floor. Dad knelt beside Violet, his eyes filled with warmth. “Wow, look at you! You built such a beautiful little house!” He watched her play, his face glowing with affection. But he did not see Mom standing beside them, looking so small, lost, and completely covered in silent tears. Violet played for a bit, then suddenly snapped, “You stupid little maid! Put that block over here!” Mom froze, her hand hovering in the air. When Mom didn’t move, Violet began to scream and thrash around. Dad glared at Mom, gesturing for her to obey. But Mom slowly set the toy down on the desk. “Did you hear what she just called me?” she whispered. Then, she grabbed my hand, turning to leave. I knew Grandma used to be a housekeeper. When Mom was little, she had to live under the employer’s roof. She had to endure all kinds of bullying in silence. Whenever Mom talked about those memories, she would smile. But back then, Dad’s eyes would always turn red with sympathy. I used to tease him for being a crybaby. But now, Dad seemed to have forgotten all of it. His angry voice boomed behind us. “But you are a housekeeper’s daughter! Besides, the people who bullied you were Violet’s parents, not Violet herself! Why are you taking it out on her? She ended up like this because of you anyway!” I only half understood his words, but they made a cold shiver run down my spine. Mom didn’t stop. She held my hand tightly, almost lifting me off my feet as we hurried out of the office. When we got home, Mom began to clean like a woman possessed. She scrubbed the floors until they practically reflected the light. The redness in her eyes slowly faded, and as soon as she finished cleaning, she rushed into the kitchen to prepare dinner. It was as if she knew that if she stopped moving for even a second, her tears would spill over. I watched her move like a robot. A dull ache settled in my chest, but I was too scared to say a word. Mom cooked a massive feast, but Dad didn’t come home. She told me to eat first while she sat silently at the table. When the food grew cold, she warmed it up. She warmed it up again and again until the sauces dried up, but Dad never showed. The next morning, Dad finally walked through the door. Mom heated up the leftovers and set them on the table. “Eat,” she said simply. Dad frowned, looking exhausted. “Violet was hysterical all night. I am going to take a nap.” Usually, Mom would have rushed to make the bed for him. But today, she stood her ground. “Eat.” Dad assumed she was just being difficult. He turned to walk away. With a loud smash, a plate shattered right at his feet. Mom had thrown it. Dad sighed. “I was angry yesterday and said some terrible things. Don’t take them to heart. You know Violet is sick. Why are you acting so petty?” Dad was apologizing, just like he always did when he forgot to do the dishes, forgot their anniversary, or bailed on my school events. Every time he softened his voice and admitted he was wrong, Mom would forgive him. I thought she would do the same this time. But Mom remained completely silent. The silence was broken by Dad’s ringing phone. His face turned incredibly grim as he listened. He grabbed his coat and rushed toward the door. “Violet is crying because I am not there. I have to go.” He abandoned his heartbroken wife and terrified child, running out without looking back. Mom watched him leave, a bitter, hollow smile appearing on her face. That afternoon, when Dad returned, Violet was with him. “Since you already know about Violet, I decided to bring her here,” Dad said. “This way, you can help take care of her. After all, you share the responsibility for her condition.” I watched Dad run around the house. He seemed like a completely different person. He made her bed, cleaned her room, and rushed into the kitchen to cook her favorite ribs. I used to think Mom was the only one who did those things, while Dad’s only job was to work, make money, and play with me. Seeing him care for Violet so gently, I realized he knew how to do everything. He just didn’t want to do them for Mom. Mom saw all of this, too, but she didn’t cry anymore. Over the next few days, they coexisted in silence. Mom spent most of her time staring at a document on her computer, researching something intensely. One day, Violet started crying hysterically because she had wet her pants. I stared at her, not knowing what to do. Suddenly, her crying stopped. She looked down at the toy in her hand, her face turning bright red, and ran into the bathroom, locking the door. I realized she was lucid. Dad had said she had moments of clarity. Overwhelmed with shame, she refused to come out. When Dad came home and found out, he practically dragged Mom out of bed. “Violet wet herself! How could you let this happen? She is lucid right now! Do you have any idea how humiliating this is for an adult?” He was so busy screaming at Mom and worrying about Violet that he didn’t even notice Mom was burning with a high fever, her body shaking. “I know you hate her parents, but you can not take it out on her!” He turned and knocked gently on the bathroom door. “Violet, sweetie, it is not your fault. It was her negligence. Come out, and I will make her apologize to you, okay?” With a click, the door opened. Dad rushed in, gently cleaning her up and tossing her soiled clothes into the trash without a hint of disgust. I remembered when I wet my pants as a toddler, Dad wouldn’t even touch me. Once Violet was clean, she still couldn’t smile. She hid behind Dad, keeping her head low. “I am so embarrassed. How did I end up like this?” She wept softly, and Dad’s face was filled with absolute devotion. He comforted her while glaring at Mom. “Apologize to Violet right now! If you hadn’t been so careless, she wouldn’t be this upset!” I shivered and secretly held Mom’s hand. Even though her skin was burning hot, her fingers were icy cold. Mom looked at Dad, her voice weak. “I am sorry.” Mom, who had always seemed so strong, now looked as fragile as a piece of paper. I tugged at her hand, wanting to take her back to her room to rest. But Dad was not done. “Is that all you have to say? Violet has lost her dignity!” Mom’s pale lips parted. “What do you want me to do?” Dad sneered. “I want you to lose your dignity in front of her, too!” Gathering all my strength, I tried to push Dad away. “Mom is sick! Why are you bullying her?” Dad didn’t budge. He looked down at me with cold eyes. “Did your mother teach you to say that?” Before I could deny it, Violet spoke up. “Gavin, I found something in the bathroom earlier.” She held out a small plastic stick with two bright red lines. “I am pregnant.” Mom froze, stumbling backward as if struck by lightning. Dad, on the other hand, lit up with joy. He scooped Violet into his arms. “Really? You are having my baby?” Looking at their opposite reactions, I couldn’t tell if this was a good thing or a bad thing. Mom’s voice trembled. “When… when did this happen?” Violet smiled. “I was lucid quite a few times this past year. We talked about old times, and we just couldn’t help ourselves. It was only natural.” Mom stood frozen, but I felt as if something had shattered right beside my ear. Violet stroked her belly. “You have no right to complain. Gavin and I were together first. You are just the intruder.” She reached out to pat my head. “You are going to have a little brother soon. Mine and your father’s…” With sudden strength, Mom lunged forward and shoved Violet away. She could barely stand, yet she shielded me behind her body. “Do not say those disgusting things to my daughter!” Violet stumbled back, looking at Dad with big, tearful eyes. A loud smack echoed through the room. Dad had slapped Mom across the face. It felt like my entire world collapsed in that moment. Tears poured down my face, but I was too terrified to make a sound. I tried to help Mom up, but then I saw bright red blood pooling beneath her. The force of Dad’s slap had sent Mom crashing into the sharp corner of the dining table, striking her lower back. It was an old injury from when they used to go ice skating together. Back then, when Mom had to get stitches, Dad had knelt by her hospital bed, crying. I will never let you get hurt again. From now on, any pain meant for you will go to me instead. He had protected her ever since, never letting her suffer a scratch. But today, he was the one who hurt her. Grimacing in pain, Mom whispered, “If you had married Violet back then, would you have treated her the way you treat me?” Dad didn’t answer. He was too busy fussing over Violet, checking to see if she was hurt. But Mom seemed to find her answer in his silence. Using the last of her strength, she leaned close and whispered a few words in my ear before passing out. I screamed her name, but she didn’t move. I ran to Dad, begging for help, but he scoffed, convinced Mom was just acting, and led Violet out of the room. In the end, I had to call our neighbor, who helped get Mom to the hospital. I stayed home, waiting for her to get better. But as I thought about the secret she had whispered to me before she lost consciousness, I knew she was never coming back. And Dad’s easy life was about to end.

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On the bus, I gave up my seat to a fifty-year-old pregnant woman. She gave me a sweet smile, “Thank you, darling.” I didn’t think much of it, but the very next day, she became my new coworker. She’d follow me around every day, calling me her husband, claiming our love child was about to be born. My coworkers laughed at me, insisting I take responsibility, but I just figured she had some mental issues and still didn’t take it seriously. But three months later, her quadruplets were born, And downstairs from the company, she shoved a paternity test in my face, showing a 99.9% match between me and her four babies. “Darling, just come home and live a good life with me.” My millionaire girlfriend slapped me, then broke up with me on the spot. Later, pressured by public opinion, I married her and lived a life of utter misery. I toiled day and night to support four children. The night those four kids went to college, that woman plunged a knife into my chest and coldly whispered: “You’ll never know why I mysteriously got pregnant with your children.” I opened my eyes again and found myself reborn. Reborn to the day I first met her on that bus.

I opened my eyes again, and that towering, swollen belly, looking like it would burst any second, was right in front of me. Padilla’s greasy, bloated face stared at me intently. I immediately realized I’d been reborn, and a flood of painful memories washed over me. It was this very day in my previous life that I gave up my seat to Padilla, a woman I’d never met, and she clung to me like a phantom. Not only did she become my coworker, But I also ended up as the father of her quadruplets. Even as she stabbed me to death, I was still racking my brain, trying to figure out why. I’d never had any physical relationship with Padilla. How could her children possibly be mine? “Haven’t you seen that pregnant lady standing next to you for ages? Hurry up and offer her your seat.” The urging voice of Mrs. Davies, a neighbor, rang out beside me. I looked around and immediately noticed something odd. There were plenty of empty seats in front, behind, and beside me, but Padilla ignored them all, her gaze fixed solely on my spot. I looked at Padilla’s large backside, a thought forming in my mind: Could it be that because she sat on the seat I’d just vacated, some sort of contact was made between us? And that’s how her children became related to me? Just thinking about it made my heart pound. I felt completely drained, the fear of those four ugly, fat children calling me “Daddy” in my previous life constantly assailing my brain. I even felt like I might slide off the seat any second. No, I can’t let any doubt go unchecked before the real reason is revealed. As Padilla’s gaze grew even more sticky and persistent, I leaned back firmly in my seat, clearly signaling I had no intention of giving it up. I closed my eyes, trying to pretend to be asleep, but Mrs. Davies’s voice rang out again. “That pregnant lady’s been standing next to you for ages, what are you playing dumb for? Give up your seat already!” Immediately after, Mr. Henderson, an old man nearby, also started scolding me, “You’re a grown man, where’s your manners? Is your backside really that heavy?” I kept my eyes closed, trying my best to ignore the voices. It was the same in my previous life. I hadn’t slept well the night before and had wanted to catch a quick nap on the bus. But because Padilla kept standing next to me, combined with everyone’s finger-pointing, I had no choice but to give up my seat. But with the lessons of the previous life, this time, unless they dragged me off, I would absolutely not give up my seat. The accusations grew too loud, so I opened my eyes and angrily retorted: “First off, there are tons of empty seats on this bus, I don’t need to give up mine.” “And I’m not even in a priority seat for the elderly or disabled, so why should I give it up? If you’re so keen on doing good deeds, why don’t you give up your seat?” But after I said that, Padilla actually spoke. “I really don’t feel well and can’t walk. How about you get up and help me to a seat in the back?” But I immediately noticed a flicker of malice in the eyes of the seemingly pitiful Padilla. I swallowed hard. Mr. Henderson’s voice spoke up again, “The pregnant lady isn’t arguing with you, so just get up and help her to a seat in the back.” No, absolutely not. I can’t get up. My intuition grew stronger. All of Padilla’s strange actions seemed to be geared towards one thing: getting me off this seat. “I’m not getting up. If you’re so eager to help, you get up.” As soon as I spoke, a burly man rushed over, “Are you moving or not?” This guy’s arms were thicker than my legs. Around us, a few more people sparsely stood up. “Just move! Bullying an old person isn’t enough, now we can’t let you bully a pregnant woman too!” But I wasn’t scared. “Damn it, I’m not moving!” I couldn’t help but curse. These people were acting like bots. But then, the man rubbed his hands together, then grabbed both my arms, looking like he was about to physically yank me from the seat. Watching Padilla’s increasingly triumphant gaze, my butt was getting further and further from the seat. Padilla’s malicious face as she stabbed me in the previous life reappeared before my eyes. I closed my eyes and made a decision. With a trickling sound, a stream of liquid sprayed out between my legs. “Gross! This kid just peed himself!” Suddenly, the crowd clutched their noses and backed away. I sat back down on the seat, looking at Padilla defiantly. “Are you still going to sit here?”

Padilla glanced at the liquid on the chair, then with a complicated expression, sat down in an empty seat nearby. I let out a sigh of relief, covertly observing Padilla. For the next few stops, she showed no unusual behavior. She didn’t, like in my previous life, intimately call me “husband” after I gave her my seat. The bus traveled three more stops, and I saw Padilla slowly stand up and walk to the door. This stop was exactly where our company was located. In my previous life, I remembered very clearly that Padilla got off the bus with me at this very stop. And then, my nightmare at the company began. Suddenly, I remembered that while I had successfully avoided giving up my seat, there were still chairs, cups, and even my watch at the office. Any of those things could lead to intimate contact with Padilla. I quickly made a call, telling Mr. Brown, the junk collector, to take all my belongings away, for free. After seeing the photo of my bare, empty workspace, I sent a WhatsApp message to my boss. “Sorry, Mr. Harrison, I’ve been diagnosed with schizophrenia and can’t come to work. I’m formally resigning.” Then I sent a photoshopped medical report. “About to enter a mental hospital, gotta go.” After everything was done, I breathed a sigh of relief. Now, I had completely cut off all contact with Padilla. Her children definitely wouldn’t have anything to do with me anymore. Just in case, I didn’t leave the work WhatsApp group, wanting to see what would happen there. And sure enough, before long, I saw Padilla, with my profile picture, added to the group. And Mr. Harrison’s introduction of Padilla was exactly the same as in my previous life. “Everyone, don’t let Padilla’s pregnancy and age fool you. She’s a coding powerhouse, worth five people. We should all learn from her.” Until quitting time, there was nothing unusual in the group. That evening, I took a shower and was about to have a drink when my girlfriend, Esther, called. On the other end, her tone was furious. “Giovanni? What’s your deal? Are you seeing other women behind my back?” “And if you are, you’re hooking up with someone that old? I’m telling you, I’m breaking up with you!” The call ended. I opened WhatsApp, and the messages in the company group almost made me drop my phone. Earlier in the day, a coworker had asked Padilla why she was still working at such an age and while pregnant. Padilla stammered, “Because the father of my children works at this company.” As soon as that news broke, the company WhatsApp group exploded. Everyone was guessing who the father of Padilla’s children could be. But after coworkers went around asking, Padilla shook her head to every name. When someone finally mentioned my name, Padilla nodded shyly. In the company WhatsApp group, people tagging me formed a long queue. “Giovanni? You resigned because you didn’t want to take responsibility, huh? Are you even a man?” “Giovanni, this two-timing is too much. Does your girlfriend know about this?”

The person speaking was my rival, Chris. He had been jealous of my beautiful and wealthy girlfriend for a long time. Esther’s call just now must have been Chris telling on me. I immediately called Esther back to explain everything. “Esther, I swear to God I haven’t done anything to betray you.” “That woman is absolutely making things up. I’ve never even met her. How could her children possibly be mine?” Just like in my previous life, I used these words to calm Esther down first. But for some reason, I started to feel a vague unease again. Why, despite my best efforts to avoid contact with Padilla, was she still clinging to me like this? And why was she so sure that the children in her belly were mine? In the company WhatsApp group, I directly posted a statement warning Padilla that if she kept spreading rumors, I would sue her. Soon after leaving the company group, I lay in bed, my mind a mess. Just then, my phone received a picture from an unknown number. I opened it, and it was a photo of me and a woman. In the dim light, I zoomed in on the woman’s face—it was Padilla. In the photo, she was clinging to my arm, and we looked intimate, And I was looking at her with a doting expression, clearly a couple deeply in love. Then, the date in the upper left corner of the photo caught my eye: 1995. How was that possible? In 1995, I hadn’t even been born yet! And when did I ever take such an intimate photo with Padilla? Just then, there was a frantic knocking at the door. My heart pounded as I slowly crept to the peephole. Through the peephole, I saw the person outside was Padilla. She called out to me, her face flushed with shyness, “Giovanni, I’m off work! Open the door!” I froze, my entire body stiff. What was with that photo? And how did Padilla know where I lived? But because I was stunned, the knocking at the door grew more frantic, and Padilla’s voice became more urgent. The force of the knocking was so great that I felt like Padilla was going to smash the door down. The neighbor across the hall opened their door, muttering angrily, “Are you trying to wake the dead in the middle of the night?” Padilla turned her head, looking annoyed. “I’m knocking on my husband’s door, what’s it to you?” The neighbor rubbed their eyes. “Your husband? You mean across the hall?” Padilla touched her belly, a proud expression on her face. “Mhm, my husband’s children are in here, and they’ll be born soon.” My neighbor had seen me bring Esther home before. If I let Padilla keep spouting nonsense, these terrible rumors would spread throughout the whole building by tomorrow. Unable to bear it any longer, I directly called 911. By the time the police arrived at my door, Padilla had already attracted quite a few neighbors. I opened the door, and she looked at me with delight. “Giovanni, you finally opened the door!” Beside me, a police officer showed his badge and asked, “You’re the one who called, right?” “Yes, this person has been knocking on my door in the middle of the night, and spreading rumors that I’m her husband, but I don’t even know her.” Padilla turned her body slightly away from the officer, as if deliberately hiding her face. “Ma’am, please come down to the station with us.” But Padilla twisted her head away even further. “I’m not going! I haven’t murdered anyone or set anything on fire, what right do you have to question me?” Her belly was terrifyingly large, making even the police officer frown. “She’s heavily pregnant, making baseless claims that I’m her husband right outside my house, and saying the children in her belly are mine.” “If these words get out, my girlfriend will definitely break up with me.” The officer nodded, but hesitated to lay hands on Padilla due to her pregnant status. “Ma’am, please cooperate and come with us.” As the officers pressed closer, Padilla suddenly clutched her belly and ran.

Fortunately, the police stopped Padilla downstairs. At the police station, Padilla was being interrogated. I pulled out the picture I had received on my phone. “This photo is dated ’95, but I wasn’t even born in ’95. How could I possibly be in a picture with her?” Saying that, I dialed the sender’s number, and Padilla’s phone rang. The officer held up the photo and questioned Padilla, “What’s the deal with this picture?” Padilla sneered, “As you can see, it’s a photo of me and my husband.” The officer’s expression grew increasingly complex. I knew what they were thinking. They must suspect Padilla has mental health issues. But as the officer checked Padilla’s records, a gasp came from another officer nearby. “Padilla, you were just released from prison last year?” What? This news from the police made my mind even more chaotic. Padilla had been in jail. “I’m telling you, there’s no need to question me. I can guarantee that the children in my belly are his.” “If you don’t believe me, we can do a paternity test once they’re born.” “If you don’t believe me now, there’s nothing I can do. Why can’t we just let science prove it in the end?” Faced with Padilla’s unwavering certainty, the police hesitated and turned to me: “Sir, do you recall if you might have met before and had a relationship, and you’ve simply forgotten?” My eyes were bloodshot. I wanted to kill myself just to prove my innocence. “If I ever had a relationship with her, I’d drop dead right now!” But Padilla was calm, even offering me a cup of water: “Giovanni, don’t get so worked up. It hurts me to see you angry. Alright, whatever you say goes.” “The children really aren’t yours.” My emotions broke, and I picked up a pen holder, ready to hit Padilla, when she suddenly clutched her belly and collapsed to the floor. “Oh no, the pregnant woman is going into labor!” That day, just like in my previous life, Padilla gave birth to quadruplets. A week later, the police, with complicated expressions, handed me the paternity test results. “After medical examination, these children…”

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When I was four, my brother Leo and I accidentally fell into a pool. After we were rescued, Mom slapped me across the face. “I told you to watch Leo! You almost killed him! Was it on purpose?” From then on, if I ate one of Leo’s candies, I’d be punished with no food. If I secretly played with his toy car, Mom would lock me in the basement. Dad initially tried to intervene, but Mom would just hug Leo tighter. “She’s the reason Leo is brain-damaged. I can’t let him suffer anymore.” When I was eight, our neighbor, Mr. Peterson, tried to lure Leo into his house with a lollipop. I tried to protect Leo and got dragged in instead. When I returned home, covered in bruises, Mom kicked me to the ground. “Lily, you’ve made Leo sickly and weak, and now you’re running away?” “Can’t you just give us a break? I wish I’d never had you!” Dragging my bleeding body, I quietly dug out a red cloth pouch from deep inside the closet. Inside was the keepsake locket Mom had given me years ago, engraved with “May you live a hundred years.” I looked at it for a long time, then calmly swallowed it. Mom, I don’t want to live a hundred years anymore. I just want you to be happy forever.

The locket was a bit big, and it got stuck in my throat, which was really uncomfortable. I swallowed hard and drank a lot of cold water from my cup. After a lot of effort, it finally went down with a gurgle. My stomach felt heavy, cold, and a little painful. Mom used to warn me about eating strange things, telling me stories about people swallowing gold to end their lives. I was a little scared, but also a little relieved. If I died, would the pain stop? Would my heart stop hurting? Mom pushed open the door and glared at me. “Lily, what are you standing there for, dumbfounded?” “Come out and eat, Leo’s hungry. Stop pretending to be pathetic.” I followed her out, but my stomach felt worse and worse, like a big rock was stuck inside. I didn’t want to make Mom angry, so I forced myself to eat a couple of bites. Dad saw how pale I looked and reached out to touch my forehead. “Lily, why are you so white? Are you running a fever?” But Mom slapped Dad’s hand away, added a piece of meat to Leo’s plate, and said coldly: “What could be wrong with her? She’s clearly faking it, trying to get our attention.” “Ignore her, finish eating quickly and take Leo for a walk.” Leo sat beside Mom, grinning at me, holding the toy car Mom had just given him. The locket in my stomach seemed to shift, and I almost threw up. Mom saw me clutching my stomach, and her face darkened even more. “Do you have any manners? Can’t you even eat a meal without causing a scene?” I forced a small, ingratiating smile and whispered, “Mom, my stomach hurts.” “If you don’t want to eat, get back to your room! Don’t be an eyesore here!” Dad opened his mouth, but in the end, he just sighed. Before leaving, Mom told Dad, “Have Mr. Peterson next door watch Lily for us.” A warmth spread through my heart. Maybe Mom did care about me after all. But the next second, Mom looked at me impatiently. “Don’t let her cause any more trouble. Haven’t we suffered enough because of her?” She wasn’t worried about me getting hurt alone at home; she was worried about me causing trouble. But I didn’t like Mr. Peterson. He hurt me badly. Dad exchanged a few words with Mr. Peterson, who then walked over, smiling creepily. “Lily, want to come to my place and watch cartoons?” Mom said coldly from the side, “Behave yourself, don’t cause us any trouble!” I didn’t dare to refuse anymore. Dad and Mom would be upset. My stomach ached terribly, and I curled up in the corner of the sofa. Mr. Peterson leaned in, wrapping his arm around me. “Lily, what’s wrong? Are you not feeling well?” His hand rubbed my back, and I shivered in fear. “I’m fine…” Mr. Peterson saw the cold sweat on my forehead, and his disgusting smile vanished. “Damn it, don’t you dare get sick here. Get back home now.” He pulled me roughly off the sofa. My legs were wobbly, and he half-supported, half-dragged me back to our house. Mr. Peterson put me on the bed, haphazardly pulling the blanket over me, covering my head completely. His voice was particularly harsh. “When your parents come back, just say you were too tired and fell asleep. Got it?” “Don’t you dare say anything I did to you! Even if you did, no one would believe you!” Actually, he didn’t need to tell me. I wouldn’t tell Mom and Dad anyway. Before, when stronger boys bullied me, Mom just said I was disobedient and misbehaved at such a young age. I bit down hard on my lip under the blanket, holding back my sobs. The blanket was thick, and I felt a bit breathless, but my body kept getting colder. Outside, I heard Mom and Dad bringing Leo home. Leo was giggling. “Mom, I want a story!” Mom’s voice was so gentle, I hadn’t heard it in such a long time. “Okay, Mom will tell a story to her little prince.” Their laughter sounded so nice, like Leo’s favorite musical box. But Mom never let me touch that musical box. I heard Mr. Peterson in the living room, speaking in a hushed voice. “Lily was tired from playing. She looked completely worn out, so I brought her back to sleep.” Mom seemed to say, “Good, she’s asleep. Saves me the annoyance of looking at her.” Dad seemed to say something, and Mom raised her voice again. “She’s just a total curse! If only she had died instead, Leo wouldn’t be like this…” I couldn’t hear the rest of the words. I was covered by the blanket, in complete darkness. My stomach hurt so much, worse than when Mom hit me. There was a metallic taste in my throat too. Mom and Dad, I feel so bad. Gold doesn’t taste good at all. If I fall asleep, will you come and see me?

When morning came, my stomach didn’t hurt anymore. That metallic taste in my throat was gone too. My body felt so light. I’d become a bubble, just like in Mom’s fairy tales. I floated out of the blanket. It was so much fun; I could see my own little bed. The blanket was puffed up, and a small me was still lying inside. Mom pushed open the door, displeased. “Lily, the sun’s high, and you’re still not up! You need to go to preschool!” I waved at her from the ceiling. “Mom, I’m up! I’m right here!” But she couldn’t hear me, couldn’t see me. Mom’s face was angry, glaring at the lumped-up blanket on the bed. Dad came too, sighing by the doorway. “Let her sleep a bit longer. She seemed unwell yesterday.” Mom turned and yelled at Dad. “Unwell? She’s just lazy, faking illness to avoid school.” “Look how well-behaved Leo is, he dressed himself already!” Leo bounced to the door and shouted, “Lily the big lazy bug!” I wanted to tell Leo I wasn’t a lazy bug. I didn’t need to sleep now. But they couldn’t see me, couldn’t hear me talk. Mom angrily walked to the bed. I quickly floated down, wanting to hold her hand. But my hand passed right through her arm. She didn’t pull back the blanket to look, still grumbling: “Such a messy sleeper, wrapped up so tight.” Mom took the empty water glass from my nightstand, snorting. “All the water’s gone, so she must be fine.” I floated through the wall to the living room and saw Dad opening the door. Mr. Peterson poked his head in, asking, “Where’s Lily? She’s quiet today.” Mom poked her head out from the kitchen. “She played too hard yesterday, can’t even wake her up.” Mr. Peterson seemed to let out a sigh of relief and quickly left. He must have been afraid I’d tell Mom and Dad about him hurting me. But, I won’t say anything now. The sunlight streamed in, but I couldn’t feel its warmth anymore. My body felt continuously cold. In the living room, Mom and Dad were watching cartoons with Leo. I hovered by the doorframe, watching them. Dad glanced towards my room. “Lily hasn’t eaten all day. I’ll go wake her up.” Mom immediately cut him off. “One missed meal won’t kill her! She’s just playing on your soft heart, trying to manipulate you.” “She’s so manipulative at such a young age. Don’t mind her. Let’s see how long she can sleep!” Leo mimicked Mom, waving his little hand. “Lily, not good!” No one came to check on me. Mom, I wasn’t being bad. I really was awake. Look, I’ve been floating here for so long. It’s just the me lying in bed, he doesn’t seem to want to wake up anymore.

In the afternoon, my friend Ethan from preschool came to find me. Ethan held up a Transformer toy, shyly saying: “Aunt Sarah, is Lily here? This is a gift Mom and I bought for her!” Mom’s face instantly changed, looking very upset. She blocked the doorway, not letting them in, her voice stiff: “She’s fine, just doesn’t want to go to preschool, throwing a tantrum and faking illness at home!” Ethan’s mom, Mrs. Miller, looked a bit awkward, softly saying, “Sarah, Lily seems quite well-behaved to me.” “Ethan was bullied at preschool, and Lily even got hurt protecting him.” Mom seemed provoked, her voice rising to a shriek. “What do you know? She wishes she could destroy this whole family!” “Lily is a monster, she harmed Leo!” “If only she were half as easy to handle as other kids, would I be this exhausted?” Ethan started crying, scared by her outburst. Mrs. Miller, her face unhappy, picked him up and left. Mom closed the door, her chest still heaving violently, mumbling repeatedly: “She’s not well-behaved at all, you’ve all been tricked by her!” I floated beside Mom, looking at her twisted face, feeling a little sad. Mom, I really wanted to be a good kid who made things easy for you. Dad came into the bedroom once, standing by the bed for a long time. He sighed, whispering, “Lily, Dad knows you’ve been wronged.” “But your mom is almost having a breakdown because of Leo. She’s suffering too.” He tried to reach out and touch me, but his hand stopped mid-air and he eventually pulled it back. Dad pulled the corner of my blanket up. “You won’t be sad if you’re asleep. Dad will make your favorite fried eggs tomorrow.” He turned and left, his back looking bent. Dad, I’m asleep now, and I’m not sad anymore. But it seems I won’t be able to wait for tomorrow’s fried eggs. Before going to sleep, Mom came in and glanced at me, complaining: “I must owe you something. You were born to be a total curse.” “All day long she just sleeps. Even a cat or dog would bring some joy.” She walked to the bed. How I wished she would anxiously touch my forehead, like when Leo had a fever, and pick me up. But she just poked my shoulder hard through the blanket. “Lily, stop pretending, get up now!” I didn’t react at all. Mom’s brows furrowed tightly. “So stubborn, huh? See if you can keep sleeping forever.” Leo was startled by the sound of her forcefully closing the door and cried, saying he was scared. Mom walked past my room, holding Leo, gently humming a song. She used to hum that song to me too. Back before Leo was born. She would rock me, telling me I was her little baby. But that was a long, long time ago, so long it felt like another lifetime. The next afternoon, I still hadn’t gotten up. Mom started to get anxious. “This brat, is she actually sick? She won’t wake up no matter what I do.” Dad also seemed a bit nervous. “I’ll go check on her.” But Mom changed her mind again, stopping him. “Check what? She’s just faking it. If you go now, you’ll be playing right into her hands!” They thought I was throwing a silent tantrum. But Mom and Dad, I wasn’t mad at you. I just couldn’t wake up anymore.

Today, the house felt a little different. Mom bought a beautiful cake with cute little animals on it. I remembered, it was Leo’s birthday today. It was my birthday too. Leo and I were born on the same day. Mom used to smile and say it was a bond between brothers. Later, she said I had a tough fate and I was a jinx to Leo. Lots of people came over, Grandpa and Grandma Smith, Grandpa and Grandma Johnson. They brought so many gifts, all for Leo. The newest Transformers, nice overalls. No one remembered it was my birthday today too. And no one asked, “Where’s Lily?” Leo, wearing his new clothes, ran around the living room like a little prince. Everyone was laughing, praising Leo for being cute and smart. Mom was smiling so happily, her eyes crinkling up. I started smiling too. That’s good, Mom is finally happy. Grandpa Smith suddenly remembered something and asked: “Why haven’t I seen Lily?” Mom’s smile vanished instantly, her tone becoming impatient. “Don’t mention her. She’s throwing a tantrum in her room, hasn’t gotten up or eaten for days, just deliberately trying to annoy us!” “On such a happy day, don’t let her come out and spoil it!” Grandma Smith sighed. “That child, she’s a bit stubborn.” Then no one mentioned me again. When it was time to cut the cake, Leo loudly said, “Save a piece for Lily!” Mom kissed Leo. “Our little Leo is so kind, still thinking of Lily. She doesn’t deserve Leo’s birthday cake.” Dad was silent for a moment, then stood up. “Let’s send a piece to her anyway. She hasn’t eaten in two days.” Mom glared at him. “Don’t you dare! She’s using this as a protest, trying to make us coddle her!” “If we give in today, what will happen later?” Dad looked at Mom’s angry face and slowly sat back down. Outside, they were singing “Happy Birthday.” “Happy birthday to you, Happy birthday to you…” It was for Leo. The singing was so loud; it almost made me unable to sleep. Mom, look, I’m not being bad. I’m not protesting. I’m making things easy for you. I won’t eat Leo’s candy anymore, I won’t play with his Transformer cars, and I won’t make you angry. The cake was eaten, and the guests were about to leave. Leo ran to his room, hugging a pile of gifts. As he passed my door, he timidly walked to my bed. “Lily, wake up and play with the toy car.” Accidentally, the toy car rolled under my bed, and Leo burst into tears. Mom was the first to rush over. “Lily, Leo was kindly trying to play with you, and you made him cry? How could you be so wicked!” “There, there, Leo, don’t cry, Mom will get it for you.” She got down on the floor, reaching under the bed for the toy car. She found the toy, and also the red cloth pouch. Mom pulled it out. The red cloth was unfolded, and the keepsake locket was gone. On it, written in crooked pencil, were a few words: [Mom and Dad, I’m sorry.] She froze, then looked up at the small lump on the bed that hadn’t moved for days. Mom’s face instantly turned ashen, her voice trembling. “Lily?”

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At my college alumni reunion, I got a call confirming my newly inherited billion-dollar fortune had arrived. Finally, I could buy that private island for my beloved “son” to roam free. But as soon as I hung up, my manipulative ex-roommate, Tiffany, suddenly stepped forward, clutching her flat stomach. She waved a crumpled pregnancy test result, demanding five million dollars. Tears streamed down her face as she accused my “son” of sexual assault, claiming he’d defiled her and left her with an unwanted pregnancy. If I didn’t pay, she threatened to leak a video and destroy my family’s future. All the alumni pressured me to pay up and make the problem disappear. I looked at her greedy face and almost burst out laughing. My “son” is a purebred Savannah cat worth three hundred thousand dollars. Interspecies reproduction? She was trying to defy the very laws of carbon-based life and reproductive biology. 1 “Five million! One dollar less, and I’ll abort this thing tomorrow!” Tiffany’s shrill voice, like nails on a chalkboard, instantly shattered the pleasant clinking of glasses in the luxurious private room. She slammed a champagne flute onto the table, splashing red wine onto my designer dress. I didn’t react with anger. I just watched her calmly. Tiffany mistook my composure for guilt. A look of triumphant glee, a petty joy, immediately bloomed on her face, which was slightly rigid from too much filler. Teetering on stiletto heels, swaying her hips dramatically, she walked over to me. With two fingers, she clutched a crumpled paper and slapped it onto the small side plate in front of me with a sharp “smack.” “Open your damn eyes and look closely!” “An ultrasound from Maria Private Hospital!” “Eight weeks pregnant, confirmed intrauterine!” She deliberately puffed out her flat stomach, then pointed a condescending finger at my nose, spitting as she spoke. “Harper, your bastard of a son made this mess, and you have to take responsibility today!” “If you don’t fork over five million for emotional damages and support costs…” “Not only will I abort the baby, but I’ll also post everything online, ruin your family forever, and make sure you’re disgraced!” The spacious private room fell silent. Dozens of eyes stared at me, shining like searchlights. Chad, the former student body president, sitting at the head of the table, was the first to break the silence. He lit a cigar, exhaled a puff of smoke, and his eyes were full of contempt. “Well, well, Harper, I never would’ve guessed.” “Four years of college, acting like such a pure and innocent girl, only to secretly raise a son who’s a sexual assailant.” “If this gets out, our entire graduating class will be humiliated because of you!” Ashley, the former literary club star, immediately swarmed over like a fly smelling blood. “Exactly! Tiffany is such a sweet, innocent girl, she’d never even held a man’s hand, and your son just ruined her like this!” “Five million is being merciful!” “I overheard you talking on the phone in the hallway just now, saying something about buying a private island. Since you’re so rich, just pay up and shut her up!” “If this goes to the police, your son could end up in jail!” I leaned back against the velvet chair, watching these “good alumni” full of righteous indignation. It was utterly absurd. My son? I’m only twenty-six years old. I haven’t even had a serious boyfriend, let alone a son. My only “son” was the purebred Savannah cat I kept at home, over three feet long, bought for three hundred thousand dollars from a top international breeder. Because of his pure lineage, he looked like a small leopard. On my Instagram stories, I’d often call him “my big guy.” The alumni reunion was incredibly boring, so I’d slipped into the hallway to answer a call from my family trust attorney. I’d casually mentioned, “The inheritance paperwork is done, I can finally buy that private island for my boy so he doesn’t have to be cooped up in the mansion all day.” I didn’t expect Tiffany, who was out for a makeup touch-up, to overhear me. And I certainly didn’t expect her to fabricate such a ridiculous lie, one that defied all logic and biology, just to extort money. A cat getting a human pregnant? Why didn’t she just apply for a Nobel Prize in Biology? I watched Tiffany’s face, slightly twisted by extreme greed, but I didn’t get angry. Instead, I picked up the glass of sparkling water in front of me and took a small sip. “Are you sure that what you’re carrying in your womb is my son’s?” I deliberately lowered my voice, feigning shock and fear. Tiffany’s eyes lit up like searchlights when she saw my expression. She thought she’d found my weak spot, immediately put her hands on her hips, and raised her voice an octave. “Of course!” “If it’s not your son’s, then whose is it?! A ghost’s?!” “I’m Tiffany, I’m a good girl! If your son hadn’t, fueled by alcohol, forcibly dragged me into a hotel room last month on the tenth…” As she spoke, she managed to squeeze out two theatrical tears and dramatically covered her face. “My life is ruined because of him!” “Harper, I’m telling you, this isn’t over today!” “Five million, not a penny less!” “Otherwise, I’ll call 911 right now and make sure your son rots in jail!” Chad immediately banged the table beside her, making the cutlery clatter. “Call the police! She should call the police! This kind of scumbag shouldn’t be let off the hook!” “However…” He changed his tone, his eyes glinting with cunning and calculation, “We’re all old classmates, after all. If it really goes to the precinct, Harper, you’ll be humiliated.” “Since you’re rich enough to buy an island now, you don’t lack a mere five million.” “Pay up and avoid trouble, just transfer the money, don’t be unreasonable.” Ashley also fanned the flames. “Exactly! Your son did something so despicable, and you still have the nerve to sit here drinking water?” “Hurry up and pay! Do you really want to see your son in handcuffs?” The surrounding alumni whispered and pointed. “Like mother, like son.” “Typical new money, thinking a few bucks buys you the right to ruin an innocent woman?” “Just pay up, you’re shameless.” All sorts of ugly insults, like dirty water from a sewer, splashed over me. I looked at their hideous faces and, instead of getting angry, I smiled. I put down my glass, looked up, my gaze like a knife, piercing Tiffany. “Call the police, you say?” “Fine.” “However, five million isn’t a small amount.” “Empty words mean nothing. How do I know you’re not trying to extort me with a fake pregnancy test that anyone could buy online?” Tiffany jumped up like a wildcat whose tail had been stepped on. “I’m extorting you?!” “Your son did this, and you dare to accuse *me*?!” “Fine! You want proof? I’ll show you today!” 2 Tiffany impatiently grabbed her knock-off designer bag from the table. She unzipped it and pulled out a stack of pre-printed A4 papers. She raised her hand and flung them hard. A dozen papers scattered like snowflakes across the wide glass lazy Susan. “Open your damn eyes and look closely!” “This is the ironclad evidence of your son’s crime!” Chad, quick-handed, snatched a few papers, cleared his throat, and read aloud. “Oh, wow, these chat logs are seriously spicy!” “‘You were so good tonight, I’m still sore…’” “‘Next time, let’s go to that adult hotel again…’” “‘Don’t be scared, baby, if you’re pregnant, I’ll take responsibility…’” Chad read, emitting a particularly vulgar laugh. “Tsk, tsk, tsk, Harper, I never would’ve thought, your son really knows how to have a good time.” Ashley leaned over for a look, then immediately covered her mouth, feigning disgust. “Oh my god, that’s disgusting!” “How can he say such vulgar things! The evidence is undeniable, Harper, what do you have to say for yourself?” The alumni boiled over again. Accusations and curses surged like waves. It was as if I had become an unforgivable sinner, and they were righteous crusaders sent by the moon to eliminate me. I casually picked up the A4 paper closest to me. I glanced at the screenshot of the Snapchat chat. I almost couldn’t hold back a laugh. The forgery was so poor, it was an insult to anyone’s intelligence. “Tiffany.” I held the paper with two fingers, shaking it in the air, my tone full of mockery. “This is your ‘ironclad evidence’?” “What, is there a problem with it?!” Tiffany jutted out her chin, but her eyes couldn’t help but dart away. “There’s a huge problem.” I scoffed. “First, the profile picture on this Snapchat is a generic stock photo of a handsome guy.” “Second, the time on these chat logs is 3 AM on the tenth of last month.” “My son goes to sleep at 10 PM sharp every night, without fail. Not even thunder can wake him up.” “Did he sleepwalk and chat you up with his paws?” Tiffany’s face changed slightly, but she quickly became defiant again, crossing her arms. “Don’t try to twist words here!” “What if he deliberately used a stock photo to trick me?” “What if he stayed up late behind your back? You’re his mom, can you watch him every second?! Don’t try to get out of this!” Chad immediately jumped in to help, pointing his finger at my nose. “Exactly! Don’t you know what kind of person your son is, Harper?” “What mother would admit her son is a scumbag?” “The chat logs are here in black and white, and you still want to deny it? Are you trying to back out of paying?” I ignored Chad’s barking and just stared intently at Tiffany. “Alright, even if the chat logs are real.” “Didn’t you just say you have a video of my son in bed with you?” I leaned forward, my gaze instantly becoming sharp, exerting immense pressure on her. “Show me the video.” “Let me fully appreciate how my son ‘forced’ you.” Tiffany’s breathing hitched. She instinctively clutched her phone, her eyes starting to dart around frantically. “The… the video is too graphic!” “How can I show something like that in public! Do you have no shame?!” She tried to use moralizing to cover up her extreme guilt. Ashley quickly chimed in, looking righteous. “Harper, how can you be so vicious!” “Tiffany is an innocent girl, forcing her to show a video like that in public, aren’t you trying to drive her to the edge?” “You want to see it, fine!” Tiffany suddenly raised her voice, as if she’d found a lifeline, her eyes becoming extremely greedy. “You give me a two-million-dollar deposit first!” “Once the money is in my account, I’ll send the video to you alone!” “Otherwise, no way!” I looked at her, stubborn to the very end, refusing to admit defeat. I completely understood her scheme. This was an elaborate, carefully planned scam. Using a few forged chat logs and a fake pregnancy test, leveraging the pressure of the large alumni gathering. She was trying to slut-shame me and morally blackmail me. Forcing me to pay from my newly inherited fortune for the sake of “face” and “reputation.” “Two million deposit?” I curved my lips into a cold smile, looking at her as if she were already dead. “Tiffany, do you think I’m a money printer, or your personal ATM?” “Without tangible video evidence.” “Forget two million, you won’t even get two dollars.” I leaned back in my chair, crossing my arms, my posture relaxed but radiating absolute dominance. “You won’t show it?” “Fine, then let’s call the police right now.” “Let the officers and the forensics team come and determine where you photoshopped this pregnancy test and these chat logs for a few bucks.” Saying this, I pulled out my phone, pretending to dial 91

Tiffany completely panicked. She lunged forward, grabbing my hand, her nails almost digging into my flesh. “What are you doing!” “Do you really think I won’t show it?!” She glared at me, gritting her teeth, a hint of madness and desperation flashing in her eyes. “Fine! Since you insist on seeing proof to believe it!” “I’ll give you what you want today!” “Let everyone see your sexual assailant son’s ugly face!” 3 Tiffany, like a gambler who’d lost everything, had completely lost her mind. She shoved me away and pulled a small phone stand from her bag. She snapped it open and slammed it onto the glass lazy Susan in the center of the dining table. Then she skillfully clipped her phone into it and opened a live stream on a short video platform. “Hey everyone! Come check this out!” She faced the camera, instantly adopting a tragic, heartbroken crying voice. “I’m a helpless woman being oppressed by the powerful!” “Today, I’m going to publicly expose a vicious spoiled rich kid!” “Her son sexually assaulted me, causing me to get pregnant!” “Now she not only denies it but also tries to frame me, trying to push me to my death! Everyone, please judge for yourselves!” Chad and Ashley, seeing this, didn’t stop her. Instead, they excitedly crowded in front of the camera, desperately trying to get views. “Everyone, please judge for yourselves!” “We’re all old classmates, we can’t stand to watch this kind of bullying!” “Today, we must get justice for Tiffany! We can’t let the rich get away with everything!” The number of viewers in the live stream began to skyrocket. Because the title was so explosive, it jumped from dozens to tens of thousands in an instant. The comments section exploded, scrolling so fast it was almost impossible to see faces. “Holy crap! A rapist? Lock him up! Life in prison!” “Can rich people do whatever they want? Doxx her! Dig up all her dirt!” “That woman looks mean, she can’t be good!” “Call the police and arrest her son! No private settlements! Justice must prevail!” Tiffany watched the overwhelming public opinion in the live stream, unable to hide her smugness, her mouth curling into a triumphant smile. She shot me a provocative look, her eyes screaming, “You’re finished.” “You wanted to see the video?” “Now I’m going to show it to the entire internet!” “Let’s see how you deny it today!” She opened a video file on another phone and aimed it directly at the live stream camera. A series of heart-pounding, heavy gasps immediately filled the private room. The video quality was blurry, as if shot with a pinhole camera. On the screen, a man and a woman were entangled on a large bed. The woman’s face was deliberately heavily pixelated. The man’s face, though distorted by unnatural light and slightly blurry at the edges, still appeared to be a rather handsome, muscular young man. Chad let out a loud, vulgar whistle. “Wow, Harper, your son actually looks pretty good, those abs are nice.” “He seems pretty experienced at this kind of thing, probably ruined a lot of young girls, huh?” Ashley covered her eyes, shrieking, but peered through her fingers, staring intently at the screen. “That’s so vulgar! Turn it off! It’s unwatchable!” The live stream comments instantly exploded, causing the server to lag for a moment. “Confirmed! The guy’s face is clear! Screenshot and report to the police immediately!” “That’s disgusting, he even recorded it! He’s definitely a repeat offender!” “Suggest sending the video directly to the police! Don’t let this animal get away with it!” “This girl is so pathetic, to be ruined like that, I support her demanding fifty million!” I watched the video. The sheer absurdity of it all was overwhelming. Not only had she forged chat logs. She had even used deepfake technology, found a random stock photo of a handsome guy, and merged an indecent pornographic video. And then she insisted this was my “sexual assailant son.” Utterly, spectacularly stupid. But I didn’t expose her immediately. Give them enough rope to hang themselves. I would use the very live stream she started to pin the blame squarely on her.. I stood up, walked to the camera, and looked directly at Tiffany’s smug face. “Tiffany, be clear.” “Are you saying that if I give you five million dollars today?” “You’ll delete this video permanently and promise not to pursue any legal action against my son, right?” Tiffany saw that I had finally “caved,” and she was so excited her voice trembled violently, her eyes practically glowed with greed. “Yes!” She announced loudly to the live stream camera, as if she already had the five million in her hand. “As long as you transfer five million to me right now!” “This matter will be settled privately!” “I’ll immediately delete the video completely, and go to the hospital tomorrow to abort the baby!” “After this, we go our separate ways, and I’ll never bother you again!” “Alright.” I nodded, my tone so calm it was as if I was discussing the weather. “Words aren’t enough.” “Since we’re settling privately, there should be some paperwork. Otherwise, what if you come back tomorrow demanding ten million?” Tiffany was clearly prepared; she had even thought of an escape route. She immediately pulled two printed “Compensation and Forgiveness Agreements” and a pen from her bag. She slammed them onto the table. “Sign it!” “It’s written clearly in black and white!” “As soon as the money is transferred, this agreement takes effect! All the viewers on the internet can be witnesses!” I picked up the agreement and quickly scanned its contents. It was full of malicious accusations of my son’s “sexual assault,” and an exorbitant clause stating my voluntary compensation of five million dollars for emotional damages. “Sign it! What are you waiting for!” Chad impatiently urged from the side. “Just sign it and pay, so we can all leave, don’t waste everyone’s time.” “Exactly, paying five million for your son’s freedom, you’re getting a great deal!” Ashley also chimed in. Other alumni also pressured me, their eyes full of schadenfreude, watching the show. I held the pen, looking at Tiffany’s face, twisted and deformed by extreme greed. A barely perceptible cold smile curved my lips.

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On the day Ethan and I were supposed to register our marriage, the million-dollar diamond ring he promised turned out to be a mere can pull-tab. I broke up with him on the spot. He frantically pulled out a purchase receipt. “The ring is just forgotten at home. If you mind, I’ll go get it now.” My gaze fell on the figure rushing toward us, and my voice was cold. “No need. Your ‘shadow’ has already delivered it.” A girl with tear-filled eyes rushed over. A diamond ring was tightly stuck on her swollen ring finger. She sobbed, explaining, “Ethan, I just wanted to help Sam try on the size. It just wouldn’t come off…” Ethan’s face instantly went dark. He snapped, “Who gave you permission to touch it? That’s for Sam!” He roughly twisted the ring, but it wouldn’t budge. I watched the farce with my arms crossed, then suddenly chuckled. “It’s simple. If it won’t come off, just saw the finger.” Ethan froze, then immediately glared at the girl. “Ashley, look at the mess you’ve made! If that ring isn’t back by tomorrow, don’t bother coming to the office!” Ashley’s eyes instantly welled up, but instead of begging Ethan, she turned to me, profusely apologizing, almost prostrating herself. Her dramatic display drew glances from everyone in the city hall lobby. “Sam, I’m so sorry. Please don’t fire me. I really can’t lose this job.” The words had barely left her lips when she suddenly started bending her finger at a twisted angle that made my teeth ache. Ethan frowned, immediately stepping forward to grab her wrist. “Are you crazy? You’re taking Sam’s angry words seriously?” He pulled out his car keys, dragging Ashley out. “Get in the car. We’re going to the hospital now. That ring has to come off today!” Throughout the whole thing, Ethan didn’t even spare me a glance. In the city hall, passersby looked at me with varying degrees of sympathy. But I was remarkably calm. After all, similar scenes had played out hundreds of times. I had long grown used to it. Everything changed a year ago at a party. I was about to announce our engagement. But the server, carrying a tray of drinks, accidentally dropped a bottle. She staggered towards Ethan, her eyes sparkling with the surprise of a long-lost reunion. “Ethan, long time no see. Are you engaged?” Her familiar tone clearly indicated they weren’t strangers. But I had been with Ethan for five years and knew his social circle inside out. I had never seen her before. Ethan, who was usually so gentle, lost his temper in front of me for the first time. “Ashley, do you have any idea that champagne bottle you just shattered costs six figures?” Ashley’s face went pale. She stood there, helpless, like a child being reprimanded, enduring Ethan’s anger. Out of politeness, I didn’t pursue it. I just had another bottle sent over. Afterward, Ethan explained it to me. Ashley was just his childhood neighbor, who used to cling to him when they were kids. They lost touch completely after his family moved. When he spoke of her, Ethan’s tone even carried a hint of exasperated dread, like a nightmare relived. But the next day, I ran into Ashley at the office, where she was processing her onboarding. Faced with my questions, Ethan rubbed his temples, looking slightly annoyed. “Sam, I couldn’t help it. Ashley’s parents died in a car accident. She didn’t even finish college and is working as a server now.” “Her parents did me a favor once. I can’t just abandon her. You’d understand, right?” I didn’t understand, but considering our five years together, I chose to stay silent. I thought that once we were married and I took Ethan home to meet my parents, I could prove my choice was right. But I never imagined that on the day we were supposed to get married, inside the ring box Ethan opened, there lay a can pull-tab. I didn’t need to guess whose masterpiece it was.

After all, ever since Ashley became Ethan’s assistant, there had been an endless string of incidents. She threw important gift boxes in the trash but mailed actual trash to my house. When she was in charge of promotions, she uploaded my unedited, high-definition close-up photos to the company website. Every time she made a mistake, Ethan would yell at her mercilessly. The irony was that Ethan was known in the LA business world as a notoriously easygoing boss. In our five years together, I had never seen him angry with anyone else. But with Ashley, he seemed to wish he could humiliate her with the most vicious and demeaning words in existence. At an outdoor dinner, he’d mock her for not checking the weather forecast, then turn around and drape the blanket I’d prepared over her shoulders. During company team-building, he’d scold her for being clumsy, then impatiently stand at the grill, meticulously cooking every skewer for her. Even every time he threatened to fire her, nothing ever came of it. And today, seeing the can pull-tab in the ring box, Ethan actually laughed out loud. “This ring is quite unique, different from everyone else’s.” He had completely forgotten that during the hardest times of his startup, we were so busy we couldn’t even stand straight, resting on the company rooftop. He held my hand and promised, “Sam, someday I’ll buy you a big, sparkling ring.” In the city hall, seeing my serious expression, Ethan still had the nerve to joke with me. “Are you that bothered? You’re not actually going to break up with me just because there’s no million-dollar diamond ring, are you?” A million dollars was just the cost of one of my casual bags. But I still nodded. “Yes, if there’s no ring, we’re over.” Ethan finally panicked. He immediately sent people to search for the ring along the way, even promising to get me a ten-million-dollar diamond ring as compensation. With his current wealth, spending ten million on a diamond ring was nothing. But it was all too late. I was genuinely tired of his entanglement with Ashley. Watching his Maybach drive off with Ashley, disappearing in the distance. I dialed my father. “Dad, I was wrong. I’ll be home in a week.” Breaking up with Ethan was destined to be a complicated process. Five years of a relationship had already intertwined our lives inextricably. I drove to The Solaris Estate, one of the most exclusive mansion communities in Los Angeles. Back then, to build our dream marital home with Ethan, I didn’t hesitate to drain my savings and buy this villa. Now, it had become the burden I most wanted to shed. I never thought my first serious visit here would be to sell the house. As my car entered the community gate, a security guard stopped me. “Ma’am, the system doesn’t have your facial recognition information. I can’t let you in.” When we bought the house, Ethan had solemnly promised, “Since you’re covering the cost, I’ll make sure to put in all the legwork.” During renovations, whenever I suggested a style I liked, he personally oversaw all the large and small projects. Yet, in the end, I didn’t even have access to get inside. I called Ethan five or six times, but all I got was a busy signal. Ashley had just posted an update on Twitter. The doctor easily removed the ring from her hand using some cooking oil. Ethan, while calling her stupid, ran to every convenience store near the hospital, just to buy her favorite strawberry ice cream to soothe her swollen finger. Meanwhile, in the five years Ethan and I were together, even when I had a fever of 104 degrees Fahrenheit, he only ever rushed the housekeeper to bring me medicine. Love or not, it was so clear. Finally, I used the property deed to get into the community. Ethan had always said he wanted to keep the marital home a surprise until after we were married. The moment I pushed open the door, my breath hitched.

In the living room, seven or eight pairs of shoes were piled haphazardly. The sofa, airlifted from Milan, was covered with cheap plushies won from a claw machine. On the main wall, where our wedding photos should have hung, my face was covered by a dartboard. My lips twitched uncontrollably. I wanted to laugh, but I couldn’t even manage a sarcastic smirk. So, this was the so-called “surprise.” The front door opened, and Ethan returned, helping Ashley inside. Seeing me on the sofa, both of them froze. Ethan quickly stepped forward to explain. “Sam, Ashley got evicted by her landlord, so I let her stay here temporarily.” “I meant to tell you, but it happened so suddenly. Our house was empty anyway, it’s good to have some life in it…” I raised my hand, cutting him off. “Tell her to pack her things and leave now.” Ethan was visibly stunned, apparently not expecting me, who was usually so accommodating, to be so resolute. “Are you angry? Just because I left you alone at the city hall?” So, he knew it was wrong. I took a deep breath, emphasizing again, “I’m selling the house. Please clear out.” Ethan’s face changed instantly. “Just for a ring, you’re abandoning our marital home?” Realizing he was too agitated, he softened his tone. “You don’t like rings that others have worn? I’ll buy a better one immediately. Please, don’t be angry, okay?” “Tell her to leave.” I repeated myself a third time. “Bang!” Ethan suddenly erupted in rage, sweeping all the plushies off the sofa onto the floor. “Ashley, I let you stay temporarily. I didn’t tell you to turn this place into a complete mess.” “Now look, you’ve made Sam angry. Get out of here right now!” Ashley sobbed, bending down to pick up the plushies from the floor, her voice trembling as she apologized to me. “Sam, I was thoughtless. I caused you trouble.” I closed my eyes, no longer saying “It’s okay” as I usually would. She dragged her heavy suitcase directly over my foot, the piercing pain almost brought tears to my eyes. I instinctively called out to Ethan, who was about to leave. “Come back—” “—and get me some pain relief cream” was cut short by Ethan’s harsh interruption. “Enough, Sam! Don’t be so ruthless. Whatever it is, it can wait until after she’s gone.” The door slammed shut with a heavy thud. In that moment, it felt like a bucket of ice water had been dumped over my head, completely extinguishing the last spark of warmth in my heart. I no longer hesitated, contacting the agent to finalize the price. At the same time, I had my father’s team quickly complete the equity valuation of the Angel Group. Angel Group, Ethan and I had founded it together. Over the years, I had contributed money and effort, elevating him to an unrivaled rising star in the LA business world. Now, a complete settlement would be a messy affair. I was working non-stop until a subordinate called to remind me. “Miss Samantha, don’t forget tonight’s new product launch.” After hanging up, I realized my phone had dozens of missed calls from Ethan. I thought about it and decided to see him one last time, just to put a definitive end to our five absurd years together. Moreover, this new product represented all my hard work. From market research to breakthroughs in core technology, I was personally involved in every step. For this, I had pulled countless all-nighters, endured endless business dinners, and rejected countless design drafts. After so many years striving outside, I had to bring a decent representative work home. When I arrived at the venue, the launch had just begun. Ethan spoke eloquently on stage, introducing the greatest contributor to the new product. After a burst of stirring drumbeats, the spotlight suddenly illuminated the stage.

I stood up, filled with anticipation, but the next second, Ashley stood in the light, smiling brightly. The entire hall erupted in murmurs. I froze, my ears buzzing. Except for Ethan and her, almost all the employees looked bewildered, then started whispering to each other. “No way, everyone knows this new product is Miss Samantha’s achievement.” Ethan’s face didn’t change. He lavishly praised Ashley’s contributions to the media, even announcing on the spot: “Effective immediately, Ashley will take over as Director of Product Development, replacing Samantha.” My nails dug deep into my palms, but the physical pain was nothing compared to the suffocating feeling swelling in my chest. Ashley stood beside him, her triumphant smile almost impossible to suppress. As soon as the launch ended, before the crowd had fully dispersed. I walked straight up and delivered a hard slap across Ashley’s face. “Aren’t you ashamed to steal someone else’s hard work and claim it as your own?” Ashley clutched her face, her lips pressed tight, saying nothing. Ethan’s reaction was even more intense than hers. He shoved me hard, the force making me stumble back a step. “Sam! Why are you yelling at her? This was my decision!” “You kicked her out, she’s homeless. How is an assistant’s salary supposed to support her in LA?” His self-righteousness made me laugh out loud. “Her contributions? Do you mean when the coffee she ordered gave the entire team diarrhea, or when her electrical use caused a power outage on the entire floor?” I bit down hard on my teeth, afraid that if I lost control, my voice would break into sobs. “How dare you hand over a year’s worth of my hard work like that? Ethan, how could you?” Ethan looked disappointed, as if I was the unreasonable one. “Sam, when did you become so bitter?” “It’s just a patent. Everything I do is for you.” “Before, you used to run around researching technology. But after we get married, I just want you to live a comfortable life as Mrs. Ethan. Do you only feel satisfied if you work yourself to exhaustion?” With that, he coldly pulled Ashley away, leaving without looking back. My phone suddenly vibrated in my pocket. It was my father’s lawyer. “Miss Samantha, we’ve found some things. You should come back as soon as possible to discuss them in person.” I watched their retreating figures, gently wiping away the dampness from the corners of my eyes. “Okay, I’m coming back right away.” I was the only daughter of New York’s wealthiest man. This secret, I had planned to tell Ethan myself on the day we got married. Unfortunately, I would never have that chance. After the plane landed in New York, I was supposed to see my dad first. But his secretary informed me he had an important board meeting soon and asked me to come later. I nodded and turned towards the legal department. At the corner of the corridor, I unexpectedly ran into Ethan and Ashley’s group. So, when he said he was coming to New York for a business trip, he was actually coming to my dad’s company. Seeing the documents in my hand, his eyes darkened. “Sam, are you really going to make such a fuss? You came all the way to New York to look for a job? Can’t you just wait for me to come home?” I almost laughed out loud. Did he not know this was my home? After being promoted to director, Ashley even dared to chime in. “Sam, throwing a tantrum needs to have its limits.” “Today’s partnership with the Adrian Group is crucial for Angel Group’s future. Please don’t come to cause trouble.” Before I could respond, the hurried secretary urged them, “The Chairman is about to meet an important guest. You only have half an hour.” Inside the legal department, the lawyer, looking serious, slid a document across the table. “According to our investigation, Ethan is not single. He’s already married.”

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To save my boyfriend, Andrews, I got injured and ended up in the hospital. Months later, the doctor said my wounds were healing well, and I could finally be discharged. Andrews looked at me with tenderness in his eyes. “That’s great, Pegula. You’re okay. I can finally rest easy.” My heart swelled with joy. “Once I’m out, we’ll get married.” But he shook his head, a hint of apology in his smile. “What I meant was, I can finally rest easy and leave.” “Ramon has been waiting for me for over half a year. I couldn’t possibly break up with you while you were sick; that would be too cruel.” “Now that you’ve recovered, it’s time for me to go and pursue my own happiness.” I touched my lower abdomen, which still ached faintly, and my heart went utterly cold. So all his meticulous care was just so he could guilt-free run to someone else. Andrews acted as if he didn’t see my face instantly drain of color. He spoke, his tone light with relief. “You know, Ramon is so fragile, and she adores me. She’d do anything for me, even be with me without any formal commitment.” “Last month, on my birthday, she gave herself to me, like a present.” My throat tightened, each word squeezed out from between my teeth. “Last month… I was still in the ICU.” He chuckled, a reminiscent and slightly boastful glint in his eyes. “Right here, on this hospital bed. You were in a coma then. She cried, saying she was terrified something would happen to you, and even more terrified I’d fall apart. She insisted on comforting me with herself.” “Ramon’s crying… it just does something to you.” I followed his captivated gaze to the white sheets beneath me. I could almost see another young, soft body, intimately entwined with the man I loved, right here, while I lay clinging to life. My stomach churned violently. I dug my nails into the edge of the bed, not even feeling them break and bleed, numb to everything but the crushing pain in my chest. He cupped my face, seemingly oblivious to the hatred in my eyes, and frowned, perplexed. “Why are you crying? I’ll compensate you with money for the injuries you sustained for me.” In Andrews’ eyes, there was still that deep affection I’d known, etched into my very soul. It was as if the person excitedly describing having sex with another woman on my sickbed wasn’t him. I gasped for air, my heart clutched by an invisible hand, aching as if it would explode. He sighed in exasperation, pulling out a tissue to wipe away my tears, his movements as gentle as if he were handling a precious treasure. “Pegula, you’re the person I’m most grateful for, but Ramon is the one I love.” “If it weren’t for you, I would have been the one crushed under the construction scaffolding that day. If my hands were ruined, how would I draw, how would I win awards?” “Ramon just joined the design firm; she has a brilliant future ahead. I can’t let her be branded as a homewrecker because of me, so I proposed to her the day before yesterday. She really loves the ring.” “You’ve always been the most understanding, the most generous. You’ll bless us, won’t you?” Construction site, proposal, ring. Three months ago, he took me to inspect a project site he’d personally designed when the scaffolding suddenly collapsed. I didn’t hesitate, pushing him out of the way, only to be hit in the abdomen by a steel bar, collapsing unconscious on the spot. I lay in the ICU for half a month, and he stayed by my side for half a month. Everyone said our love was stronger than steel. But it turned out that while he was guarding me, he was also guilt-free enjoying another woman’s body. I curled my cold fingers, my voice shaking uncontrollably. “We’re over.” He paused, then chuckled, as if I was telling a childish joke. “Pegula, don’t say things you don’t mean.” “For me, you gave up your future in France, haven’t touched your scent lab in seven years, and your sense of smell has deteriorated. What else can you do now besides being my assistant?” “If you leave me, who would want you?” I stared at him intently. Seven years. I went from being the most promising young perfumer to just a regular assistant by his side. I thought our love story was that of a genius architect and his muse. But now, he was telling me I was just a worn-out tool he’d used up. My phone rang. It was the special ringtone he’d set for Ramon. I’d heard it many times – when I was asleep, when I was disoriented after surgery. He always said it was a client. It turned out I had been living a complete joke all along. He didn’t answer immediately, instead saying in a placating tone, “Don’t stoop to bickering with a young girl. Our seven years together, surely that’s worth more than her few months?” “You’re not getting any younger, Pegula. No one else will take you. Just listen to me, stop being dramatic.” He rose, leaned down, and pressed a cold kiss on my forehead. “You handle your own discharge. Ramon has prepared a celebration party for me, I need to get going.” The moment the hospital room door closed, I couldn’t hold it in anymore. I retched violently by the bedside. Andrews was wrong. No one proposes to a mere pastime. That ring, I waited seven years for it, until my heart died. True feelings don’t disappear; they just shift.

Back at the home Andrews and I had shared for five years, his car was parked downstairs. The car window was halfway down, and Ramon’s seductive gasps drifted out, interrupted. “Andrews…” “Call me ‘babe’.” “Babe… you’re amazing…” “Compared to Pegula, who makes you feel better?” “Definitely you… she’s so lifeless, how could she compare?” I stood rooted to the spot, my blood feeling like it had frozen solid. It was midsummer, but I was so cold my teeth chattered. An hour later, Andrews walked into the living room, his arm around Ramon’s waist. Seeing me, Ramon flinched like a startled rabbit, her eyes instantly red, and she hid in Andrews’ embrace. “Why is she here? Andrews, didn’t you say this would be our home?” “Do you still love her? You lied to me!” “No matter how much I love you, I’ll never be a homewrecker! I’m leaving right now!” Andrews immediately hugged her tight, cooing and kissing her. “What are you thinking? I’ve given you the wedding ring; you’re my wife, Ramon. This is absolutely our home.” “She’s just here to pack her things.” He looked at me, no trace of guilt in his eyes, only cold annoyance. “Pegula, isn’t that small studio apartment across town still empty? Go live there.” My mind went blank, a dull ache in my chest making it almost impossible to breathe. Three years ago, when we moved in here, Andrews had hugged me, his eyes shining like stars. “Pegula, this is our home now. We’ll have our paintings here, our cat, and our children.” But now, this man who promised me a home was kicking me out like trash. “Pegula, Ramon is upset. I don’t want to repeat myself.” His voice was soft, but it carried an undeniable warning. It was then that I vaguely realized he wasn’t joking. After a long, suffocating silence, under his unwavering gaze, I spoke hoarsely, “Okay.” Andrews seemed surprised by my compliance. His eyes flickered. As I started to rise, he suddenly grabbed my wrist, his tone softening. “There’s an industry conference next week. Come with me.” I instinctively wanted to refuse. But he spoke first. “It’s Ramon’s first time at such an event. She doesn’t know many of the senior figures. You should come along, introduce her, and make sure no one gives her a hard time.” I froze, the absurdity almost making me laugh out loud. He wanted me to pave her way? But then I thought of the wild plan brewing in my heart, and I nodded. Before the conference, Ramon claimed she had no suitable dress and picked out my most cherished gown from my walk-in closet. It was the dress I wore when I first won an international perfumery award, along with the matching antique jewelry. That was the last shred of my glory as “Pegula,” not “Andrews’ assistant.” At the conference, she clung to Andrews’ arm. And I, like a humble shadow, followed behind them, fetching drinks and making introductions for her. Those senior figures who once showered me with praise now looked at me with scorn and pity. “Isn’t that Pegula? Such a brilliant and talented perfumer back then. How did a few years as Andrews’ assistant turn her into this?” “You haven’t heard? Andrews is marrying the one next to him.” “Pegula? She’s just a glorified housekeeper he got to sleep with for seven years. Now her home’s even been taken over.” “Women really need their own careers. Otherwise, look, once she’s past her prime, when she gets kicked out, she can’t even open her mouth.” I practically fled into the ladies’ room, only to hear a discussion from the stalls between a few young designers. “Andrews is such a winner at life! I heard Pegula was the real mastermind behind his ‘Rising Star’ entry this time, right?” “Definitely. Pegula’s inspiration is Andrews’ entire creative arsenal. Without Pegula, Andrews is nothing.” “So, he’s kicked Pegula out and married Ramon. What’s he going to do now?” My heart clenched, but then I heard a frivolous laugh. It was Neto, Andrews’ confidant. “Andrews said Pegula’s world revolves around him. He made her utterly dependent for seven years; she can’t leave him.” “This is just her throwing a little tantrum. Once he gets tired of Ramon, he’ll snap his fingers, and Pegula will come crawling back to slave for him.” “She’s just a used-up old tool. What could she possibly do now?” I couldn’t hear another word. I rushed to the sink, splashing cold water on my face again and again, finally biting down hard on my hand to keep from crying out loud. Tears of humiliation mixed with the water, splattering onto the cold marble counter. Andrews, you’re wrong. This time, I won’t wait for you. The moment I turned around, a stinging slap landed hard on my face.

I clutched my instantly red and swollen face, looking at Ramon in disbelief. She shook her tingling hand, the innocent, harmless expression on her face utterly gone, replaced only by malice and venom. “You heard everything, didn’t you? Andrews will be mine very soon. Why are you shamelessly clinging to him? Aren’t you pathetic?” “You love throwing yourself at men so much, why don’t you go work at a nightclub?” “Oh, right, you’re so worthless, paying for love for seven years and still not getting a title. You’re only good enough for broke losers.” My head buzzed. I watched her malicious face open and close, shaking with anger. Just as I was about to speak, she suddenly let out a shriek, violently ripped the strap of her dress, and dramatically fell backward. “Pegula!” Andrews’ cold, furious voice exploded behind me. He lunged forward, carefully helped Ramon up, and held her tightly in his arms. Ramon cried beautifully, like a tragic actress, as if she’d suffered the greatest injustice. “Andrews, it’s my fault. I shouldn’t have come between you two. It’s all my fault; I’m the wicked homewrecker.” Saying this, she raised her hand and slapped herself hard twice across the face. Andrews immediately grabbed her hand, his face contorting in pain as he looked at her swollen cheeks. “Who told you these things?” Ramon bit her lip hard, shaking her head frantically. “Please don’t ask, Andrews, I beg you.” But her eyes flickered with terror toward me, as if I was some monstrous threat. “A girl from an ordinary family like me can’t possibly stand up to Pegula. She has so many influential people helping her; I can’t fight her…” “Andrews, please let me go. I don’t want to get acid splashed on me on the street later…” His brow furrowed, and a scrutinizing, displeased gaze fell upon me. “Explain!” I lowered the hand covering my face, revealing clear five-finger marks. “You should ask her what she said to me.” “Pegula!” Ramon shrieked shrilly. “Yes, I hit you, but that’s because you called my parents country bumpkins and said you’d make sure they couldn’t show their faces in their hometown!” “They’re innocent! If you’re still not satisfied, hit me back! I beg you, don’t go after my parents!” I was so angry my vision blurred. “You’re making things up! I never—” “Enough!” Andrews interrupted me coldly, his eyes filled with a thick, suffocating wave of disappointment. “Pegula, I’ve indulged you too much.” “Do you think just because you’re an orphan, I can’t do anything to you?” Perhaps my heart was already numb, or perhaps I had expected this. I actually laughed. “So, how do you plan to stick up for your fiancée?” He walked toward me step by step, reached out, and slowly, deliberately, took off the necklace I had worn for seven years. It was a birthday gift I bought for him with the prize money from my first competition. He turned and said to his assistant, “Call the police. Tell them Ms. Ramon’s design drafts were stolen, and the thief was caught red-handed.” I forgot how to react, my mind utterly blank. Andrews was notorious in the industry for playing favorites. He had protected me under his wings for seven years; no one in the entire industry dared to pull any stunts on me. But now, he was the one who personally plunged the knife into my back. Andrews clutched the necklace, his cold, detached expression appearing utterly foreign in my blurry, tear-filled vision. “Pegula, you’re too disobedient.” “This time it’s stealing design drafts; what next? Are you going to ruin Ramon’s hands?” “Go spend some time cooling off and thinking about what you’ve done.” “Don’t worry, it won’t be for long. When you get out, I’ll personally pick you up.” I forced a wry smile. Watching the police approach me, as the cold handcuffs clicked shut on my wrists, I forcefully pulled my hand from his grasp. The sudden emptiness in his palm made Andrews instinctively frown. He stared at my resolute back, suddenly seized by a panic that he might never be able to hold onto me again. Ramon, however, was quicker. She linked her arm through his, her voice sweet and syrupy.

“Andrews, thank you for standing up for me. I was really terrified just now.” He came back to himself, dotingly flicking her nose. “What kind of compensation do you want?” Ramon’s gaze fell on the necklace in his hand. She smiled, took it, and casually tossed it into a nearby trash can. Andrews’ face instantly changed. Ramon immediately looked wronged, her eyes turning red. “Was this necklace very important to you?” She made a show of reaching for the trash can. “Then I’ll help you pick it up… After all, it’s seven years of feelings. Even though she did this to me, I don’t want to make things difficult for you.” Andrews pulled her back, his heart aching beyond measure. “A piece of junk necklace, it’s nothing compared to you. Don’t dirty your hands. You have that black card, don’t you? Buy whatever you like.” Ramon’s tears turned to laughter immediately. She stood on her tiptoes and kissed him on the cheek. “I don’t want your money; I love you.” “Yes, yes, I want to spend money on you. If you don’t spend it, my heart aches.” Only then did she shyly bury her head in his chest. Three days later, I was released from the police station. It wasn’t Andrews who came to meet me, but his assistant, who drove me directly to a private club’s VIP room. Pushing open the door, under the lavish lights, Andrews and Ramon were surrounded by a group of people in the center of a sofa. They were feeding each other a cherry, mouth-to-mouth, kissing passionately. The cheers and whistles around them were threatening to blow the roof off. I don’t know how long it was before Andrews finally noticed me. Seeing my pale, gaunt face and the still-fading red marks on my wrists, his expression darkened. “How did you get like this? Did someone bully you inside?” Before I could speak, Ramon covered her mouth and chuckled. “Pegula is such an actress! Everyone knows you’re Andrews’ pet, who would dare touch you?” “Are you trying to make Andrews feel sorry for you, looking like that?” Andrews, who had been about to get up, sat back down at her words. “Since you know you were wrong, come over here and apologize to Ramon.” Ramon nestled in Andrews’ arms, swirling the scarlet wine in her glass. “Actually, I’m not that petty.” “But you insulted my parents and almost ruined my future. I just can’t swallow that.” She paused, then feigned surprise, covering her mouth. “Oh, I forgot. You’re an orphan, grew up in a welfare institution, no parents to teach you manners. It’s normal you wouldn’t understand these things.” I lowered my eyes, saying nothing. She pushed her wine glass onto the coffee table, her chin slightly raised. “Apologize.” I lowered my head. “I’m sorry.” Ramon shook her head. “What good is saying it? That’s not sincere enough.” She pointed to a row of various strong liquors on the table. “Drink all of these, and I’ll forgive you.” I looked at the bottles, instinctively glancing at Andrews. Years ago, to help him with client entertainment, I drank until I had a perforated stomach and was in the hospital for a month. After that, he never allowed me to touch a drop of alcohol again. He knew better than anyone that alcohol was no different from poison to me. But the man before me merely exhaled a puff of smoke, his tone as calm as if discussing the weather. “Pegula, it’s just a few drinks. It’s not that serious. I know your alcohol tolerance.” My heart was clutched by an icy hand, the pain making it impossible to breathe. I picked up a glass and tilted my head back, chugging it down. The spicy liquid burned like fire from my throat to my stomach. Immediately after, a sharp, twisting pain shot through my recently healed lower abdomen. I bent over in agony. “Pegula’s alcohol tolerance is so good, one glass isn’t enough.” Ramon smiled with feigned innocence. “How about you down this whole bottle too? That would show real sincerity.” My face was ashen. I looked up at her. Ramon immediately turned to Andrews, looking wronged. “Andrews, I was insulted, threatened, and almost had my future ruined by her. Now I just want her to drink a bottle of wine to make amends. Is that asking too much?” “Of course not.” Andrews stubbed out his cigarette, his tone matter-of-fact. “Pegula, I want to protect you, but you really went too far this time. Listen to Ramon. Once her anger cools down, we’ll turn the page on this.” I slowly nodded. Clutching my abdomen, which felt like it was being sliced open, I picked up the bottle of the strongest whiskey on the table. “A few drinks? How is that enough to atone?” “I’ll down this whole thing, that’s what you call sincerity.” The moment the bottle hit the floor with a heavy thud, I couldn’t hold on any longer. I spat out a mouthful of blood. I collapsed weakly to the ground. Ramon shrieked, jumping back. “Pegula, you don’t need to be so dramatic! It’s just a bottle of wine. Are you carrying a fake blood pack around to stage an injury?” Andrews was also convinced by her ridiculous lie. He frowned impatiently. “Alright, stop acting! Ramon has been generous enough. How long do you plan to keep this up? Aren’t you ashamed? Get up!” I said nothing, just looked up, staring silently at him. The woman closest to me suddenly shrieked. “Blood! There’s blood all over her dress! Oh my God, her wound has burst open!” I met Andrews’ face, which had instantly drained of color, and let out the first truly sincere smile I’d had in days. “Is the compensation you wanted enough now?”

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My fiancé of five years and my half-sister, Serena, teamed up to stab me in the back, turning me into the most hated plagiarist in the fashion industry. At the new collection launch, they grandly announced their engagement, trampling my dignity underfoot. The entire internet ridiculed me, demanding I get out of the design world. Someone even threw acid at me. But my good-for-nothing bodyguard, who usually just played video games and slept all day on a measly salary, slowly stood up. He kicked the attacker away. Then, in front of the live global broadcast, he made a call to the head of the world’s most powerful conglomerate. “My sister’s sick of this garbage industry.” He casually wiped the blood from his hands. “Ten minutes. I want Hayes Corporation bankrupt.” The entire internet erupted. The deadbeat they’d ridiculed was actually the heir to an untouchable East Coast dynasty, controlling the global economy. He cornered me against the wall, under the spotlight, his eyes blazing. “Chloe, now you can only rely on me.”

My name is Chloe Miller. I used to be the youngest top fashion designer in the country. In five years, I had won countless awards and founded my own brand, Zephyr. But today, my reputation was ruined. At Zephyr’s Autumn Couture Show, the big screen wasn’t playing my designs. Instead, it showed the “original sketches” of my half-sister, Serena Miller. The two designs were identical. The only difference was that Serena’s sketches were dated a full three months earlier than mine. “Chloe Miller, have you no shame? Plagiarizing your own sister’s work!” “Boycott the copycat! Get out of the design world!” The media and audience below the stage surged forward. Flashes went off like daggers, ready to tear me to pieces. I stared at the two people standing center stage. One was Serena Miller, currently nestled in a man’s arms, sobbing. That man was Ethan Hayes, CEO of Hayes Corporation. He was also my fiancé of five years, whom I was supposed to marry next month. “Ethan, please don’t blame Chloe. She probably just wanted to win too badly…” Serena tugged at Ethan’s sleeve, her voice soft. Ethan pulled her closer, then looked at me with disgust. “Chloe Miller, I never thought you would be this kind of person.” Ethan’s voice was cold. “Serena treated you like family, and you stole her life’s work. From today on, our engagement is off. Hayes Corporation will withdraw its investment from Zephyr and sue you.” The entire hall gasped. I stood on stage, my body going numb. Three months ago, Ethan said he wanted to give me a surprise and took all my rough drafts and initial designs. It turned out his surprise was to put Serena’s name on my work and then publicly push me into hell. “Ethan Hayes, you will pay for this.” I gritted my teeth, my eyes red, but I didn’t cry. “Pay for this?” Ethan sneered. “You should worry about yourself.” The moment he finished speaking, a crazed fan suddenly rushed onto the stage, holding a water bottle, and lunged at me. “Die, plagiarist!” A sharp chemical smell filled the air. It was acid. I couldn’t dodge. My mind went blank. I closed my eyes in despair. But the pain never came. A hand grabbed my wrist and pulled me into an embrace that smelled faintly of tobacco. Then came a loud bang. The attacker was kicked away, crashing against the backdrop. The acid splashed onto the floor, instantly corroding a large, blackened hole. The entire hall fell silent. Still shaking, I looked up. I saw an extremely arrogant, impossibly handsome face. Jaxson King. My bodyguard and personal assistant. His main activities: sleeping and playing video games. He slept until noon every day, woke up to play games, ate the meals I cooked, and went back to sleep. When I asked why he didn’t get a real job, he would always lean lazily on the couch and say, “Work? Start a business? My sister supports me.” I paid him three thousand dollars a month, and he often complained I wasn’t generous enough. But at this moment, he held my waist with one hand and ran the other through his messy black hair. He looked down, his deep eyes slightly narrowed, a cold ferocity in them. “Touch her? Who do you think you are?”

“What are you doing? Security!” Ethan Hayes was the first to react, pointing at Jaxson and yelling. A few security guards nervously surrounded us. Jaxson didn’t even glance at them. He looked down at me, his brow slightly furrowed. “Are you hurt?” His voice was a little hoarse, with a hint of tension. I shook my head and pushed him away. “Why are you here?” “To pick you up from work.” He said it casually, his gaze sweeping over the acid marks on the floor. His eyes turned ice-cold. He turned and walked toward Ethan and Serena. Jaxson was over six feet tall. Though he wore a faded black T-shirt, the intimidation radiating from him made Ethan take a step back. “What do you want? I’m warning you, this is Hayes Corporation’s property!” Ethan shouted. Jaxson let out a soft laugh. “Hayes Corporation’s property?” He slowly pulled out his phone and dialed a number. When the call connected, he said only one sentence. “Ten minutes. I want Hayes Corporation bankrupt.” The entire hall was silent for a second, then erupted in laughter. “Who is this guy? Is he crazy?” “He’s just a bodyguard. Does he think he’s a CEO?” “Ten minutes to bankrupt Hayes Corporation? Does he think he’s the heir to an East Coast dynasty?” Ethan also laughed. “Chloe Miller, is this the loser you found? A good-for-nothing who only knows how to brag?” Serena Miller giggled. “Chloe, if you are going to hire someone to act, at least get someone believable.” I tugged at Jaxson’s sleeve and whispered, “Jaxson, stop messing around. Let’s go.” I didn’t want to stay and be a spectacle. Jaxson held my hand. His palm was warm. “Chloe, what’s the rush?” A wicked smile played on his lips. “The show has just begun.” Time ticked by. Five minutes later. Ethan’s phone rang. He picked it up casually. “Hello?” The next second, his face went pale. “What did you say? The capital chain is broken? The bank is calling in loans? All partners have terminated their contracts?” Ethan’s voice cracked with fear. The phone slipped from his hand and hit the floor. His legs gave out, and he collapsed. The entire hall was silent. Everyone stared at Jaxson as if he were a monster. Jaxson looked down at Ethan. “I told you. Touch her, and you are nothing.”

The press conference ended with Hayes Corporation declaring bankruptcy. Jaxson practically pushed me into his beat-up car. A suffocating silence filled the car. I stared at the night scenery, my mind a mess. Ethan’s betrayal, Serena’s scheme, and Jaxson’s unbelievable phone call. “Who are you?” I finally broke the silence, turning to look at him. Jaxson gripped the steering wheel with one hand. His profile was sharp. He chuckled. “Me? Your good-for-nothing bodyguard, hired for three thousand bucks.” “Jaxson, stop lying to me.” I took a deep breath. “An ordinary bodyguard couldn’t bankrupt Hayes Corporation with one phone call.” “Maybe Ethan brought it on himself?” He turned his head. “Chloe, instead of my identity, shouldn’t you be more concerned about your situation?” I froze. He was right. Hayes Corporation was bankrupt, but the “plagiarist” label still stuck to me. Serena had her “original sketches,” and all my early drafts had been destroyed by Ethan. In the design world, plagiarism was a capital offense. My brand, Zephyr, was being boycotted. My studio was shut down. I was penniless and homeless. The car stopped in front of a rundown apartment building. This was Jaxson’s rented place. “Go on up.” He pulled out the keys and opened the door for me. The apartment was small but clean. I sat on the narrow sofa, watching Jaxson take two cans of beer from the fridge. He handed one to me. “Here. To calm your nerves.” I took the beer. My fingertips brushed his cold ones. “Jaxson, why are you helping me?” I looked up. He leaned against the table, his long legs crossed, and took a sip of beer. “Because you are my boss.” He put down the can, a half-smile on his lips. “If you go bankrupt, who will pay me?” “But…” “No buts.” He suddenly leaned in, his hands on either side of the sofa, trapping me. His masculine scent enveloped me. I was forced to look up at his handsome face so close to mine. “Chloe Miller.” He dropped his lazy smile. His gaze became intense. “Remember, from now on, you can only rely on me.” His voice was deep and husky. I bit my lip and turned my head away. “I don’t need to rely on anyone. I will prove my innocence myself.” Jaxson chuckled. His fingers pinched my chin, forcing me to look at him. “Prove it? With what? You don’t even have money to buy fabric.” His words were like a sharp knife. “That’s none of your business!” I pushed his hand away and stood up to leave. But he grabbed my wrist and pulled me into his arms. “Let me go!” I struggled. “Stop moving.” His hands were like iron clamps around my waist. His chin rested on my head. “Chloe, you are so stubborn. You will only get hurt.” His voice held a hint of helplessness. I froze in his arms, feeling his powerful heartbeat. Finally, my tears fell.

In the following days, I fully experienced what it meant to be kicked while I was down. The media that used to praise me now published daily articles denouncing me. My former peers avoided me. Even some students I had mentored publicly distanced themselves from me. I had become a pariah. Meanwhile, Serena Miller stepped over my ruined career and became the design world’s hottest “genius.” Although Hayes Corporation went bankrupt, Serena quickly latched onto another powerful connection — Asher Thorne, the second son of the Thorne family, one of the most prominent dynasties on the East Coast. To win her favor, Asher poured money into Serena’s new personal brand. He also announced that Serena would represent the country at the Global Young Designers Competition in Paris next month. That was the dream of every designer. It was also the goal I had prepared for for three years. I slammed the newspaper onto the table. “Angry?” Jaxson came out of the kitchen with a plate of a sandwich and placed it in front of me. “Eat.” I looked at the a sandwich. I had no appetite. “Jaxson, I want to enter that competition.” I looked up, my eyes determined. Jaxson raised an eyebrow and sat down. “You don’t even have the qualifications. How will you enter?” “I can apply through a wild card.” I gritted my teeth. “If I can get a recommendation letter from an international judge, I can compete.” “International judge?” Jaxson scoffed. “Your reputation is so bad now. Who would write you a letter?” “I will see Master Charles.” I took a deep breath. “He saw my work before and admired it. If I can show him my new designs, he will help me.” Master Charles was a titan in the global fashion industry and the chief judge for this competition. He happened to be on vacation in the country. Jaxson looked at me. “Are you sure you want to go?” “I have to.” I clenched my fists. “This is my only chance.” Jaxson said nothing more. The next day, carrying the design sketches I had drawn overnight, I arrived at Master Charles’s hotel. But I couldn’t even get past the main entrance. “I’m sorry, Ms. Miller. Master Charles isn’t seeing anyone.” The hotel manager coldly blocked me. “I just need ten minutes. Five minutes will do.” I pleaded. “Chloe Miller, have you no shame?” A sharp voice came from behind me. I turned around and saw Serena Miller, arm-in-arm with Asher Thorne, walking over. Serena was wearing a custom-made gown, her makeup perfect. “Chloe, you have been blacklisted. Why are you still here making a scene?” Serena walked up to me. “Master Charles is about to see me. Leave now so you don’t dirty his eyes.” I glared at her. “Serena Miller, you stole my work. Don’t you have nightmares?” “Stole? Do you have proof?” Serena giggled. “Now the whole internet knows that you, Chloe Miller, plagiarized me. You are a failure.” Asher Thorne also looked at me with disgust. “Security, get this woman out of here.” Several security guards grabbed my arms and dragged me outside. My design sketches scattered on the floor, trampled underfoot. “Let me go!” I struggled, tears streaming down my face. Just then, a black Maybach pulled up at the hotel entrance. The door opened, and a pair of long legs stepped out. Jaxson King. Today, he wasn’t wearing a faded T-shirt. He wore a perfectly tailored black suit. His hair was combed. He exuded an undeniable nobility. He walked toward me and kicked away the security guard holding me. “Who gave you the right to touch her?”

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I suffered from severe pyrophobia and haphephobia. My fiancé, a top psychologist, spent three years of gentle patience, pulling me back from hell. I thought he was my savior and decided to say yes to his hundredth proposal. But on the day I was trying on my wedding dress, I accidentally pushed open the secret door in his study, disguised as a bookshelf. Behind a one-way mirror, the walls were covered with photos of my agonizing struggles, along with an experimental report about to be published. And he was holding another heavily pregnant woman in his arms, his voice chilling: “She’s just a lab rat for me to overcome academic challenges. With one more severe fire stimulus, my data will be perfect.” In that moment, my world turned to ice. Later, I died in that fire as he wished, but he went completely insane. A cold dread washed over me, my blood freezing in my veins. Through a one-way mirror, I watched Julian Vance, my fiancé of three years, gently caressing another woman’s swollen pregnant belly. “Julian, I’m pregnant.” The woman cooed, her voice full of possessiveness. “When are you going to get rid of that crazy woman?” Julian. My treating therapist. My fiancé. The man who had spent three sleepless years proposing to me ninety-nine times, all to cure my pyrophobia and touch aversion. Now, his face bore a coldness and calculation I’d never seen before. “Scarlett, don’t be childish.” He lowered his head and kissed her forehead. “You know, Ember is just an extremely valuable research subject to me.” “My new desensitization therapy is at a critical stage. All I need to do is put her in a simulated fire chamber next week, get her final physiological data under extreme fear, and my research will win an international award.” “Then, we’ll get married.” Every word was a knife twisting in my heart. I covered my mouth, biting hard into the back of my hand, desperate not to make a sound. The taste of rust spread in my mouth. Just ten minutes ago, I was preparing for his hundredth proposal, joyfully looking for his tie in his study. But I accidentally triggered a mechanism on the bookshelf. This secret room, hidden behind the study, felt like a massive mockery. The walls were plastered with photos of me convulsing in agony during my episodes, annotated with meticulous data: heart rate, blood pressure, fear index. It turned out that every gentle embrace, every patient reassurance, even every proposal. None of it was out of love. It was all to test the obedience of a lab rat. I stumbled backward, knocking over a nearby chair. A muffled thud. Julian, on the other side of the glass, suddenly looked up, his gaze shooting towards the wall like a blade. “Who’s in there?”

The secret door was violently pushed open. Julian stood silhouetted against the light in the doorway. When he saw it was me, a flicker of panic darted in his eyes. But it was only for an instant, before his usual aloof, cold demeanor returned. Scarlett followed behind him. Seeing my disheveled state, she covered her mouth and let out a laugh. “Oh dear, the lab rat escaped.” I ignored her, just stared intensely into Julian’s eyes, my body trembling uncontrollably. “Three years…” I heard my own cracked voice. “Julian, these past three years, you were lying to me the entire time?” Julian stepped forward, instinctively reaching out to touch me. “Ember, calm down. You’re very unstable right now, this isn’t good for your condition.” “Don’t touch me!” I screamed, violently swatting his hand away. My severe haphephobia immediately flared up. The spot he touched felt like it was crawling with a thousand ants, and my stomach churned violently. Gagging, I collapsed to the floor. Julian frowned, looking down at me, his tone finally dropping all pretense. “Since you’ve heard everything, there’s no need for me to keep up the act.” He adjusted his tie, his eyes cold and dismissive. “Ember, you need to face reality. You’re a patient with severe psychological issues. Without me, you’d be lost in the darkness by now.” “I gave you three years of normal life. You cooperate with me to complete the final data collection, we both get what we want. It’s fair.” Fair? I looked up at this man I once worshipped, and laughed until tears streamed down my face. He pulled me out of one abyss, only to push me into an even deeper hell. Scarlett stepped forward, her high heel crunching on my skirt. “Why waste words on a lunatic?” She looked at me scornfully. “If it weren’t for Julian’s academic standing, do you think you’d be living in this mansion? Just finish the experiment and get out of my sight.” I bit my lip hard, staring at Julian: “What if I don’t cooperate?” Julian crouched down, his long, slender fingers gripping my chin, his eyes sinister. “Ember, you don’t have the right to refuse. In your current mental state, all it takes is one word from me to have you forcefully admitted to a high-security psychiatric facility.” “You’d better be obedient.”

I was imprisoned. Julian confiscated my phone and locked the mansion’s gates. He was no longer the gentle and empathetic therapist. After shedding his mask, he became a cold-blooded dictator. Over the next few days, he began to forcibly reduce my anti-anxiety medication. He was forcing me into an episode. Without the suppression of the medication, those deep-buried fears surged back like a tide. Night after night, I had nightmares, dreaming of the fire that took my parents, dreaming of flames licking my skin. I started frantically scratching myself until my arms were bleeding profusely. Every time I had an episode, Julian would stand behind the one-way mirror, coldly recording data. “Heart rate 140, pupils dilated, self-harming tendencies observed…” His voice came through the loudspeaker into the room, cold and mechanical. I lay on the floor, looking at the blurry silhouette in the glass. The love in my heart was slowly crushed, turning into bone-deep hatred. On the fourth day, Scarlett came. She stood before me, her pregnant belly prominent, holding a cup of hot coffee. “Tsk, tsk, how pathetic.” She looked down at me. “Julian says your threshold is almost reached. Tomorrow, he’ll activate the simulated fire chamber.” At the words “fire chamber,” my whole body jolted. That was my Achilles’ heel. Scarlett seemed pleased with my reaction. She deliberately tilted the hot coffee in her hand. Scalding liquid splashed onto the back of my hand. “Ah–!” I screamed in pain, not just from the burn, but because the heat awakened memories of being scorched by flames. Curled up in the corner like a madwoman, I screamed and trembled. Scarlett laughed loudly and left. The moment the door closed, I stopped screaming. I slowly looked up, staring at the red swelling on the back of my hand, my eyes utterly lifeless. My tears had dried up. I couldn’t just sit there and wait to die. If I entered the simulated fire chamber tomorrow, I would completely lose my mind, becoming his perfect experimental data. I had to escape. Even if I died, I would die outside these walls.

The next day, Julian entered the room. He looked at the burn on the back of my hand, frowned almost imperceptibly, but quickly, coldness replaced it. “Ember, this is the last time.” His voice even carried a twisted gentleness. “Just get through today, and you can finally be free.” I leaned against the wall, motionless like a broken rag doll, devoid of a soul. Julian didn’t care about my lifeless state. He waved his hand, and two bodyguards walked in, forcibly manhandling me to my feet. I was dragged into a completely sealed chamber. Huge LED screens surrounded me, and the pungent smell of burning permeated the air. “Let me go… Please, Julian, don’t…” I struggled violently, tears streaming down my face. I wasn’t faking it; I was genuinely terrified. That bone-deep fear made it almost impossible to breathe. Julian stood in front of the control panel, his eyes feverish. “Begin.” With his command, the screens around me instantly burst into blazing flames. Heaters hidden in the walls whirred furiously, and the room temperature rapidly rose. “Boom–!” Realistic sound effects exploded in my ears, as if the whole building was burning. “Ah–!!!” I screamed shrilly, clutching my head with both hands, desperately shrinking into a corner. “Help me! Help me! Dad! Mom!” I fell into extreme hallucinations, the firelight before my eyes turning into the sea of fire that had consumed everything that day. Julian’s voice came from above, laced with a trembling excitement: “Yes, exactly! Fear index at its peak! Heart rate over 160!” I rolled on the floor in agony, my nails digging deep into the floor, my fingers bleeding profusely. Extreme fear and the high temperature gradually made me lose consciousness. The second before falling completely into darkness, I looked at the surveillance camera, a chilling curve on my lips. Julian, you want data? I’ll give it to you. But this is the last time you’ll control me.

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Julian Vance tossed a divorce agreement onto my table. His voice was as calm as if he were discussing a business acquisition. His phone screen was still lit, displaying a stranger’s picture. I put down my carving knife and glanced out the window. New York was covered in heavy snow, just like the day he knelt before my kiln to propose. “Why?” I asked. He was silent for three seconds before uttering words I’d remember for the rest of my life: “You shine too brightly. I’m tired. I want a normal life with a normal woman.” I looked down at my hands, covered in sawdust. These very hands had sold my family’s legacy to fund his startup when he had nothing. Now that he was successful, he found me too bright. “Fine.” I picked up the pen and signed the agreement. He froze, seemingly surprised by how readily I agreed. “You… won’t try to keep me?” I smiled, tossing the pen back onto the table. “Julian Vance, trash belongs in the trash can. Why would I want to keep it?” Audrey Quinn POV The deep autumn wind howled against the glass windows of my artisan shop in New York, a mournful cry. I sat in a wicker chair, staring blankly at my phone screen. It was a live photo. The background was that notoriously hard-to-book French restaurant downtown. Julian, wearing the black coat I had personally embroidered, was bending down, tying a scarf around a woman. The woman’s face would disappear instantly in a crowd. She wore an old-fashioned puffer coat, her shoulders hunched. But Julian’s gaze, as he looked at her, held that soul-deep tenderness I once thought was exclusively mine. He even reached out to smooth her wind-tousled hair. Julian was cheating. This man, a titan in New York’s business world, once knelt before my kiln in front of all the media, wiping the dust from my face and declaring me his life. Now, his life had changed hands. At ten that night, the lock on the villa door clicked. Julian walked in, bringing with him the biting cold. He still had that aloof, superior air, impeccably dressed in his suit, radiating power. I didn’t turn on the lights. In the darkness, I tossed my phone onto the marble table. The screen lit up, displaying the scarf-tying photo. “Explain this,” my voice was eerily calm, without a single tremor. Julian paused, his gaze sweeping over the screen. He didn’t flinch, nor did he show any sign of being caught off guard. He slowly took off his coat, hung it on the rack, walked to the sofa, and sat down, crossing his legs. “Chloe,” he uttered the woman’s name, his tone as indifferent as if discussing an unimportant contract. “I’m in love with her.” My heart constricted violently, as if an invisible hand had clamped down hard, making even breathing a painful struggle. “Love?” I forced a laugh, finding it utterly absurd. “Julian Vance, when you were twenty, you got lost in the remote mountains for three days and three nights, searching for a piece of wood I wanted. You came back covered in blood. You grabbed my hand and said you’d only love me for this lifetime. Now you’re telling me you’re in love with a woman whose face you can barely remember?” Julian leaned back against the sofa, pinching the bridge of his nose, a deep weariness etched on his brow. “Audrey, I’m tired.” He looked up at me, his gaze full of cold, rational analysis, cruelly heartbreaking. “We’ve been together for seven years. For these seven years, I cherished you like a goddess. When you cut your hand doing wood carvings, I called every doctor in New York to our house. When you were upset because a kiln firing failed, I canceled multi-billion dollar mergers and sat with you in your studio for three days and nights. When you complained about the carving knives on the market, I spent half a year learning blacksmithing and personally forged a set for you.” He enumerated the past, and what I thought were profound declarations of love now became his accusations against me. “You’re an artist. You have your integrity, your pride, your moods. Every day, I had to carefully guess your thoughts, afraid a word might displease you, afraid an action might disrupt your inspiration. But Audrey, I’m also human. I can get exhausted.” Julian’s gaze drifted past me, into the empty space, and his voice held a hint of longing. “Chloe is different. She’s just a regular librarian. She doesn’t understand art, or wood carving, or complex business dealings. But she’ll clumsily warm a glass of milk for me when my stomach acts up. She’ll hand me a warm glass of water when I get home from work. With her, I don’t need to pretend, I don’t need to look up to anyone. I just need to be a regular man. Those have been the most relaxed days I’ve had in seven years.” A glass of milk, a glass of warm water. I felt as if all the blood in my veins had frozen. My talent, which I was so proud of, all the deep affection I’d poured into him, in this man’s eyes, had become a heavy chain. “So, my seven years of youth, all the painstaking effort I poured into my carvings for you, is worth less than a glass of warm water?” My voice trembled, my eyes burning with a painful ache. “You’re excellent, Audrey.” Julian stood up, looking down at me. “But things that shine too brightly can be blinding if you stare at them too long. I won’t divorce you. The position of Mrs. Vance will always be yours. But I won’t let Chloe go either.” He dropped that bombshell, then turned and walked towards the guest room. I sat in the darkness, listening to the guest room door lock, and my tears finally splattered onto the back of my hand. The man who promised to shield me from every storm, had personally unleashed a blizzard on me.

Audrey Quinn POV The next day, I went to that library. I wore a well-tailored trench coat and exquisite makeup. I stood among the rows of bookshelves, watching the woman named Chloe. Chloe was tidying books, moving slowly, wearing thick-rimmed glasses, her hair casually tied back, giving her an air of timidity and awkwardness. I walked over. The clicking of my heels on the floor made Chloe look up. “Ms. Quinn?” Chloe clearly recognized me. Her face instantly turned pale, and the book in her hand dropped to the floor with a thud. I didn’t look at the book, just quietly observed her. Ordinary, too ordinary, so ordinary that it aroused no sense of threat. “Leave him,” I said, my voice even. “Whatever amount of money you want, I’ll give it to you.” Chloe’s eyes immediately reddened, tears streaming down her face. She shook her head frantically like a startled rabbit. “Ms. Quinn, I don’t want money… I know I’m not worthy of Julian, and I don’t want to ruin your marriage. I just… I just love him too much. As long as I can watch him from afar, I’ll be content. Please, don’t make me leave…” She cried pitifully, as if I were some evil villain. I felt nauseous. I was about to speak when my wrist was suddenly grabbed with brute force. I staggered, almost losing my balance. “Audrey Quinn! What are you doing!” Julian had arrived, I didn’t know when. He pulled Chloe protectively behind him, as if she were a rare treasure, then turned to glare at me, his eyes as cold as ice. “I was just having a chat with her.” My wrist throbbed, my bones feeling like they might shatter, but I stubbornly refused to cry out in pain. “A chat? Trying to force her with money, or pressure her with your status as Mrs. Vance?” Julian sneered. “Chloe isn’t one of those snobbish women in your circle; she doesn’t care about money! Do you think everyone is like you, calculating everything perfectly?” I laughed, exasperated. If I were calculating, I wouldn’t have sold my family’s inherited gallery to him to fund his startup when he had nothing. “Julian, don’t blame Ms. Quinn, it’s all my fault…” Chloe tugged on Julian’s sleeve, sobbing uncontrollably. Julian lovingly patted the back of Chloe’s hand, then looked at me again, his eyes filled with nothing but disgust. “Audrey Quinn, I’m warning you, don’t come looking for her again. She’s timid, and she can’t handle your arrogant behavior. If you dare lay a hand on her, don’t blame me for not remembering our past.” With that, he put his arm around Chloe’s shoulders and walked out of the library without a backward glance. I stood rooted to the spot, watching their intertwined figures disappear, my chest feeling like it was being repeatedly sliced by a dull blade, raw and bleeding. That evening, Julian came home. He walked straight up to me and threw a document onto the table. “The transfer deed for that glass studio in the city south. Sign it.” I looked down. It was the glass studio I had spent two years planning, preparing for my solo exhibition. Julian once said he’d make sure all of New York would see my talent there. “Why?” I looked up, my voice dry. “Chloe likes growing succulents. Her rented apartment is too small and doesn’t get any sunlight. That sunroom is just sitting empty; she can use it,” Julian said, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “That’s my studio!” I jumped to my feet, my voice finally cracking. “You know I have an exhibition next month!” “The exhibition won’t die if it’s postponed for a few months,” Julian frowned, visibly impatient. “Your wooden and stone pieces can be exhibited anywhere. Chloe isn’t well and needs more sun. Don’t be so selfish.” Selfish. I looked at this man, both familiar and strange. He once argued fiercely with someone over a piece of wood for me. Now, for a few pots of another woman’s succulents, he casually destroyed my painstaking work. I picked up the pen and signed my name on the document, the tip tearing the paper slightly. “Take it.” I threw the document at him, then turned away, unwilling to look at him any longer.

Audrey Quinn POV With the glass studio taken, my exhibition had to be hastily relocated to my cramped artisan shop. The opening day arrived with a torrential downpour in New York. Julian had promised to attend. He’d said that no matter what, he would never miss any important moment in my life. I stood in a thin evening gown at the shop entrance, watching cars come and go through the rainy curtain. The cold wind, mixed with rain, chilled me to the bone. Time ticked by, and guests began to whisper. Their murmurs pierced my ears like needles. I pulled out my phone and called Julian. It rang for a long time before he finally picked up. “Hello?” Julian’s voice was muffled by rain and background noise. “Where are you? The exhibition is about to start,” I tried to keep my voice steady. There was a moment of silence on the other end, then Chloe’s terrified cry: “Julian, I’m scared… The thunder is so loud…” Julian’s voice immediately softened. “Don’t be afraid, I’m here.” Then, he spoke into the phone. “Audrey, I can’t make it. The old apartment complex Chloe lives in has a power outage, and rainwater is pouring into her house. She’s alone and scared. You handle your exhibition yourself.” “Julian Vance,” I gripped my phone tightly, my knuckles white. “This is the exhibition I’ve been preparing for three years. You promised me.” “It’s just an exhibition. You can do another one next year,” Julian’s tone was impatient. “Chloe only has me right now. Be mature, don’t throw a tantrum at a time like this.” Beep— The call ended. I listened to the dial tone, slowly lowering my arm. I turned to face the scrutinizing gazes, forcing a polite smile, and courteously greeted the guests. That night, I stayed late at the shop. I looked at the pieces on display, into which I had poured countless hours. In the most prominent spot was a wood carving titled “Togetherness.” I had carved it in Julian’s likeness, every line etched with my love. The door pushed open, and Julian walked in, smelling of rain. He glanced at the empty shop, then walked up to me. “Are you mad?” he asked casually, as if he’d only missed an unimportant movie. I didn’t speak. Julian walked to the display stand, his gaze falling on “Togetherness.” He reached out and touched the edge of the wood carving. “Chloe was terrified today. I spent a long time calming her down,” he explained, almost boasting about being needed. “She saw my clothes were wet and insisted on making me cream of mushroom soup, but she burned her hand. She’s so clumsy, but it’s an endearing clumsiness.” I looked at Julian, feeling a churning sickness in my stomach. “Did you come here just to tell me that?” Julian withdrew his hand, pulled a velvet box from his pocket, and handed it to me. “Compensation for you. A limited-edition diamond necklace.” I stared at the box and suddenly laughed. Tears welled up in my eyes. Before, if I even glanced at a certain raw stone, he would find a way to get it, then personally polish it into a unique piece of jewelry for me. Now, he was using a mass-produced item, something money could buy, to placate me after three years of dedication. “No thanks,” I turned my face away. “I find it dirty.” Julian’s face darkened. He slammed the box onto the table. “Audrey Quinn, don’t throw a tantrum. I’ve already apologized, what more do you want?” He snorted, then turned and left. I watched his retreating back, picked up the “Togetherness” wood carving from the table, and smashed it fiercely onto the marble floor. Wood splinters flew, and the sculpture broke into two pieces. Just like our seven years of relationship, shattered beyond repair.

Audrey Quinn POV Julian started to escalate. He no longer hid Chloe’s presence, even brazenly bringing her into our shared villa. “Her apartment is still under renovation, so she’ll stay in the guest room for now,” Julian announced, then instructed the staff to prepare Chloe’s room. I sat on the sofa, watching Chloe, who stood awkwardly in the center of the living room with a worn canvas bag, like Cinderella mistakenly entering a palace. In the days that followed, this house, once filled with my essence, was slowly encroached upon by Chloe. She would fry eggs in the kitchen in the morning, wearing Julian’s oversized shirt. In the evening, she’d sit on the living room rug, reading him boring novels. She even casually left her cheap plastic hair clips on my expensive vanity table. Julian indulged all of it. The way he looked at Chloe increasingly resembled a father doting on a daughter who needed complete protection. Until that afternoon. I returned from my shop and, just as I reached the door, heard a crisp shattering sound from the living room. I hurried inside, to see Chloe sitting on the floor, flustered, surrounded by porcelain shards. It was the first ceramic cup I had ever fired myself. To achieve that unique color I loved most, I had failed hundreds of times, burning countless blisters on my hands. The day I succeeded, Julian had hugged me and spun me around three times, saying that cup was our family heirloom. Now, the heirloom was shattered to dust. “I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to…” Chloe cried as she tried to pick up the pieces, cutting her finger, which started to bleed. Julian rushed out of his study, pushed me aside, and knelt down to suck Chloe’s bleeding finger, his face filled with urgent worry. “How could you be so careless? Does it hurt?” Chloe leaned into his embrace, crying even harder. “Julian, I broke Ms. Quinn’s cup, she’s going to be so angry…” Julian turned, his gaze cold as he looked at me. “It’s just a broken cup. So what if it’s broken? Why are you putting on such a displeased face for everyone to see?” I looked at the shards on the floor, my heart aching to the point of spasm. “A broken cup?” My voice was hoarse. “Julian Vance, have you forgotten how that cup came to be?” “All I see is Chloe’s hand bleeding!” Julian harshly interrupted me. “Audrey Quinn, when did you become so heartless? No matter how precious an item is, can it be more important than a person’s well-being?” He picked up Chloe and strode towards the first-aid kit. I stood rooted, looking at the mess on the floor. I knelt down, picking up the pieces one by one. The sharp porcelain cut my palm, and blood dripped onto the glazed surface of the shards, a stark sight. But Julian never even looked back. A few days later, I saw a familiar wooden hair clip in Chloe’s hair. It was a gift I had carved for Julian’s birthday last year, using the finest wood, working three sleepless nights, carving every stroke with care. It bore the initials of our names. “That hair clip…” I stared at Chloe’s hair. Chloe touched the clip in her hair, giving a shy smile. “Pretty, isn’t it? Julian said it was just sitting idle in a drawer, and I thought the wood was nice, so I used it to decorate my hair.” I spun to look at Julian. Julian was drinking coffee. Catching my gaze, he frowned slightly. “What is it? It’s just a wooden hair clip. Chloe liked it, so I gave it to her. If you want one, I’ll have someone buy you a whole bunch of better ones.” I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. I finally understood: Julian hadn’t forgotten the past. He simply didn’t care anymore.

Audrey Quinn POV New York’s annual charity gala, a gathering of the elite. Julian Vance, as a rising star in the business world, was naturally among the invited. As Mrs. Vance, I was expected to attend on his arm. In the car, the atmosphere was icy. Julian kept his head down, replying to messages, a faint smile playing on his lips. I didn’t need to guess; it was Chloe. Upon arriving at the ballroom, Julian perfunctorily offered me his arm as we walked the red carpet, facing the media’s flashing lights. As soon as we entered, Julian withdrew his arm. “Go mingle, I need to see some clients,” he said, then walked into the crowd without a backward glance. I stood alone in a corner, holding a glass of champagne. I was accustomed to the hypocrisy of these events, and to using indifference to mask my inner turmoil. Half an hour later, a commotion erupted at the ballroom entrance. I turned to look. Chloe had burst in, like a headless chicken, wearing a clearly ill-fitting, cheap evening gown. She seemed to be delivering some documents, but the security guard at the door stopped her, and she looked on the verge of tears. The surrounding guests cast glances of disdain and amusement. “Where did this beggar come from? Did she get lost?” “To wear something like that to an event like this, how embarrassing.” The whispers were just loud enough to reach Chloe’s ears. Her face flushed, and she clutched the document bag tightly. Just then, Julian pushed through the crowd and strode towards her. He pulled Chloe into his embrace, his sharp gaze sweeping over the onlookers, his voice chillingly cold: “She’s with me. Any objections?” The entire room fell silent. Everyone’s eyes began to dart between Julian, Chloe, and me in the corner. Their looks held pity, and ridicule. Julian took off his own suit jacket, draped it over Chloe’s trembling shoulders, and whispered comforting words. Then, he took Chloe’s hand and, to the bewildered stares of the crowd, walked straight to the center of the ballroom. He had completely forgotten that his legal wife was still standing there. A socialite walked up to me, covering her mouth with a soft laugh. “Mrs. Vance, it seems your position isn’t very stable. Mr. Vance’s protective gesture, one might mistake her for his wife.” My knuckles, gripping the stem of my champagne glass, turned white. I watched Julian, who for Chloe, didn’t hesitate to offend everyone present, didn’t hesitate to trample my dignity as his wife. Suddenly, I felt utterly indifferent. I couldn’t play this charade called marriage anymore. I set down my glass and turned towards the exit. Outside, it had started snowing. New York’s first snow, biting cold. I walked down the icy street in my thin gown and ten-centimeter heels. Julian didn’t follow. He was too busy comforting his startled little rabbit in the warm ballroom. My ankle was chafed raw, blood seeping out, staining my heel. Yet, I felt no pain, walking step by painful step. Snowflakes landed on my hair and shoulders, melting into cold water. I remembered the first snow five years ago. Julian had wrapped me in his coat and carried me down an entire street, just because I said my feet hurt. Now, on the same street, in the same snow, the man who once carried me gave all his warmth to someone else.

Audrey Quinn POV I fell ill. That long walk in the snowstorm gave me a high fever. For two whole days, I lay in the master bedroom, drifting in and out of consciousness. In the vast villa, only the staff would regularly bring me warm water and fever reducers. Julian never appeared. On the evening of the third day, my fever subsided a bit. I was terribly thirsty, my throat aching as if I’d swallowed razor blades. I struggled to get up, leaning on the wall, shuffling downstairs step by painful step. The kitchen smelled delicious. Julian, in casual loungewear, stood at the counter, clumsily slicing tomatoes. Chloe hugged him from behind, her cheek pressed against his back, giggling. “Julian, you’re slicing them too thick, the pasta will be overcooked.” “That’s only because you keep messing around,” Julian said, his tone doting, as he reached back to pinch Chloe’s nose. I stood in the shadows of the dining room, watching this heartwarming, yet blinding, scene. I remembered Julian used to be a man who never set foot in the kitchen. Once, when I had a stomachache and wanted cream of mushroom soup, he made a huge mess in the kitchen, and I ended up ordering takeout. Now, he was willing to cook for Chloe. My fingers, gripping the doorframe, trembled slightly. I coughed. The laughter from the kitchen abruptly stopped. Julian turned, saw my pale, haggard face, and his brows immediately furrowed. “What are you doing down here? Don’t you know you’re sick? What if you infect Chloe?” His first reaction was to blame me for potentially threatening Chloe’s health. My chapped lips stretched into a faint, miserable smile. “I just wanted a glass of water,” my voice was incredibly hoarse. Julian glanced at the kettle on the counter, but didn’t move an inch. “The kettle’s right there. Don’t you have hands?” he said coldly. Chloe peeked out, timidly saying, “Julian, Ms. Quinn is sick. I’ll get her some water.” “You don’t need to bother,” Julian pulled Chloe back. “She’s just overly delicate, making a fuss over a small illness.” I listened quietly. I dragged my heavy feet to the counter, picked up the kettle, and poured myself a glass of warm water. My wrist was weak and limp, and half the water spilled out, scalding the back of my hand. As if numb, I picked up the cup and drank the water sip by sip. Then, I turned and looked at Julian. “Julian Vance,” I said calmly, looking at him. “Do you remember what you did last time I had a fever?” Julian paused, seemingly trying to recall. I answered for him. “You didn’t close your eyes for three days and nights, blowing on the medicine to cool it before feeding it to me. You said if anything happened to me, you wouldn’t live either.” Julian’s face changed, a flicker of irritation in his eyes. “That was all in the past. Why bring it up? People change.” “Yes, people change,” I nodded, my gaze sweeping over Chloe behind him. “Your love truly is cheap and disgusting.” “Audrey Quinn!” Julian was enraged, slamming the knife in his hand onto the cutting board. “What are you going crazy about!” I couldn’t be bothered with him anymore. I turned and walked upstairs, my back straight. In that moment, I distinctly heard the city named “Julian Vance” in my heart, crumble into ruins.

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