Author: Momo Chan

Li’s first love has returned. It was time for me, who had been his mistress for nine years to leave. But he begged me to stay.

At eighteen, I found myself on the muddy bank of the river, tears streaming down my face as students of my mother, Lily Lane, walked massive wolfhounds whose jaws sank into my flesh. Writhing in agony, I dialed my mother’s number, desperate for her to come to my rescue. But when she answered, her voice was as frigid as the winter wind. “My students are all well-behaved,” she sneered, “unlike you, you little liar. You’re always trying to hurt others. “You must have provoked those dogs on purpose. If you get bitten to death, it’ll be your own fault. My innocent student would never do such a thing. Stop pretending to be the victim!” The bitterness between us had been brewing since I was ten. A frantic phone call I made had sent my father, Jason Reed, speeding recklessly down that same road, and his car plunged into the raging river beneath the bridge. His body was never recovered. From that day forward, I became my mother’s greatest enemy. Every year on the anniversary of my father’s death, she would drag me to that same riverbank, forcing me to my knees in a cruel ritual of penance. Years later, after I had been torn apart by those wolfhounds, my father, who had faked his death to escape his debts, returned unscathed. When my mother learned the truth, the shock sent her spiraling into madness. ***** A video suddenly popped up in the teachers’ group chat. In the grainy footage, police officers were photographing a mutilated body in a sandpit. The voiceover, belonging to the math teacher, Max Blake, trembled as he relayed the gruesome rumors. “They say the victim was killed by an animal and then dismembered by the killer. The methods were horrifyingly brutal. What a monster. The poor victim must have suffered immensely.” Lily’s eyes reddened, a look of deep sorrow and pity etching itself onto her face. A bitter sadness surged in my chest, tightening my throat. I thought, “Mom, if you knew it was me who had died, would your heart ache just as much? Probably not. After all, in your eyes, I was always the one who had killed Dad. But, Mom, do you know? It really hurt.” “Yes, the police found the victim’s backpack, but everything inside had been discarded by the killer.” Max passed around a photo of the backpack. Lily glanced at it, her eyes falling on the patchwork of worn-out fabric. She sighed and shook her head. Even as a ghost, I felt my heart ached uncontrollably. I murmured, “Mom, you’ve forgotten, haven’t you? That backpack was my tenth birthday present from you. “Of course, you’ve always seen me as a thorn in your side because of Dad. How could you possibly care about the state of my backpack? “Yet, I carried it with me for eight long years.” As the school bell rang, my spirit was inexplicably drawn to follow Lily into the classroom. When we passed by the first row, where a student was coughing softly, Lily stopped. Her face was etched with concern as she inquired about the student’s well-being. For the first time, I saw the maternal warmth she had never shown me. But that tender expression froze the moment her eyes landed on my empty seat. She snorted, her face twisting with disdain. “Boys and girls, never follow the example of someone who thinks they’re above the rules just because they’ve managed to pull off a few good grades. A troublemaker is a troublemaker. In the end, they’ll only become worthless scum, a stain on society.” The students remained unfazed, having heard such words countless times before. No matter how well I performed academically or how much I contributed to the class, I was always the black sheep in her eyes. In her eyes, I would always be the worst, the most foolish student, the most wicked and vindictive daughter. All that remained was a dull, searing pain, as if my heart had been carved with a blunt blade. I realized then that heartache never becomes easier to bear. As soon as the bell rang to signal the end of class, Lily stormed over to the assistant principal, Michael Smith, urging him to give me a major demerit and announce it to the entire school. She couldn’t wait for another opportunity to humiliate me in front of everyone. Only when Michael nodded in agreement did her face finally break into a rare smile. It was as if the more she hurt me, the lighter her own burden became. Hearing the commotion, George Roberts, the principal, hurried over. His face was filled with concern as he asked, “Samantha has always been well-behaved and obedient. She’s not the type to skip class without reason. Surely something must have happened to her?” “What could happen to a murderer like her? She’s probably just being lazy, dodging class. If something did happen, it’s her own karma.” Lily’s expression darkened. George and Michael exchanged uneasy glances, shaking their heads in silent resignation. I couldn’t help but let out a bitter, ghostly laugh. I murmured, “Mom, it’s not that I didn’t want to come to school. It’s that I no longer had the chance to step through those doors. I was already dead. “And it was you who left me by the riverside last night when I was feverish and vulnerable. That’s where I was tormented and killed by those men. “If this is truly my karma, then I accept it willingly. “But Mom, could you please stop hating me?”

After school, as Lily drove past the narrow alley behind the school, her sharp eyes caught sight of a group of students viciously beating another boy. She screeched to a halt, abandoning the car as she leaped out and forced the attackers away. Without a moment’s hesitation, she helped the injured student into her car and drove straight to the hospital to get the wounds treated and bandaged. When she saw the bruises and cuts, her eyes welled up with tears of compassion. She couldn’t bear to see a child suffer like this. Without wasting a moment, she returned to the school and spent the entire night uncovering the identities of the bullies. The culprits were identified and punished, and the victim was finally safe. As always, the victim and his parents came to thank Lily. They bowed deeply, but Lily simply smiled, brushing it off. “Protecting my students is my duty as a teacher,” she said as if it were the most natural thing in the world. To prevent such incidents in the future, she organized a school-wide anti-bullying seminar. Standing onstage, she passionately denounced the horrors of bullying. To her students, she was a beacon of justice, a guardian angel. But my heart felt as if it had been stabbed by a sharp sword, twisting in an agony I could barely endure. The very person everyone regarded as a peacekeeper chose to side with the tormentors while her own daughter was being humiliated and bullied. Back then, because of the way she singled me out in front of the entire class, I became isolated. The isolation quickly snowballed into full-blown bullying. They would publicly humiliate me, shouting insults and slurs. Tearing up my test papers and flinging my backpack around were daily occurrences. They also pinned things on me that I never did, smearing my reputation and spinning vicious lies just to tear me down. All I could do was endure it in silence, alone. Lily was already worn out from taking care of the other students every day, and I didn’t want to add to her stress. If I could just nail the role of the ideal, dutiful daughter, I believed there was a chance Lily might not loathe me quite so much. But one day, it all escalated. They dragged me into the bathroom and beat me with a mop until I was covered in bruises. I tried my best to hide the injuries, but Lily noticed. “What happened to you?” she asked. At her question, the floodgates of my emotions burst open, and I sobbed as I told her everything. But instead of sympathy, her face twisted into a mask of fury. “You’re lying! I know my students! They’re all kind and innocent. “It’s you who’s the problem! You killed your father, and now you’re trying to ruin my students? Are you trying to spite me? Is that it? “There’s no daughter more wicked than you! Why are you even alive?” Before I could react, her hand flew through the air, and a sharp slap landed on my cheek. I cradled my cheek, where the sting burned, as I tried to explain. I showed her the threatening letters they had left in my locker, hoping the evidence would make her believe me. But she didn’t even glance at them. Instead, she snatched the papers from my hands and tore them to shreds. “Why would they pick on you and not someone else? It’s because you’re the one who’s done something terrible! “You deserve every bit of this, you little monster!” Her words struck me like physical blows, each one cutting deeper than the last. The quiet living room echoed with my sobs. She shot me a look filled with contempt, as though I were nothing more than trash, before she turned on her heel and strode away. My heart shattered into a million pieces. “Mom, can’t you trust me just this once?” I whispered. “Can’t you look at me, really look at me, for once? Yes, it was me. I’m the reason my father is dead. How could I ever think I deserve her sympathy?” Surprisingly, Lily had scheduled me for cleaning duty with the very same group that had given me trouble before. Usually, such tasks were the class president’s domain. “Mom, this wasn’t intentional, right?” I asked. Yet, she turned away from my silent plea, leaving me chilled to the core. “What’s shouting going to do for you?” one of them taunted as we cleaned. “If your own mom has given up on you, who do you think is left to protect you?” “I heard you’re why your dad’s gone. No surprise your mom can’t stand you. She put us on duty together on purpose, didn’t she? Then, we could all get a chance to give you a piece of her mind, huh? She probably wishes we’d beat you to death. It’s just so pathetic. Tell me, what’s the point of you even being alive?”

The pain of the beating was nothing compared to the agony of my shattered heart. Yet, I fought with every ounce of strength I had left, screaming and pleading for help. I thought, “What they were saying about my mother couldn’t be true. Surely, if she heard my cries, she would come running. If she saw the violence with her own eyes, she would finally believe me.” Through my tear-blurred vision, I thought I saw her standing in the doorway. The room fell deathly silent as everyone froze, their hands mid-strike. The empty classroom echoed with my desperate screams. “Mom, save me! Mom, please…” But she only glanced at me coldly as I lay sprawled on the floor, even if my face was covered in blood. Then, without a word, she stepped back and quietly closed the door. I felt my soul go numb. My chest was crushed by the weight of her rejection. I gagged, spitting out a mouthful of blood. The blows rained down harder and faster, but I no longer felt the pain. My body was numb. “Mom, you’re really not going to save me? Is this what you want? For me to die?” I murmured. But I didn’t die that day. I was saved by Selena Chase, who had come looking for me. I was rushed to the hospital with multiple fractures and spent a month bedridden. Lily visited the hospital only once to warn me not to go to the police and cause a fuss. Selena, furious on my behalf, tried to argue. Lily frowned and sharply retorted, “You’re alive, aren’t you? What more do you want? You’re just trying to ruin my reputation and get me fired!” Slamming the door behind her, she walked away, leaving me to wail in silence. It was only when Selena called her father, the school board chairman, that the matter was finally resolved. When I finally pulled myself out of the painful memories, tears were already streaming down my face, and my heart was gripped by an intense, squeezing pain. I suddenly realized I was already back home, following Lily, who frowned in irritation when she couldn’t find me. “That troublemaker still isn’t back? Maybe she’ll just die out there,” she muttered, storming toward the couch. But as she stepped on a stray pill on the floor, her expression changed. She picked it up, her eyes narrowing with suspicion. “She’s probably faking it again,” she scoffed with an eye roll. “Since when does she just ‘happen’ to get feverish?” I let out a bitter laugh. “Mom, don’t you remember? This fever was your doing.” On the anniversary of Jason’s death, I had accidentally knocked over a plate of food. In a fit of rage, Lily had thrown me out of the house, forcing me to stand in the freezing winter wind wearing nothing but thin pajamas. Amidst the howling gales of the north, where thermometers drop to chilling depths, I froze, each breath crystallizing in the air. When she finally opened the door, I thought she had calmed down with joyous surprise. But instead of letting me in, she grabbed me by the arm and dragged me outside. “Today is the day you kneel by the river! Hurry up!” she yelled. Snowflakes fell on my burning forehead, melting instantly. I pushed through the pain as I implored with all the strength I could muster, “Mom, this fever’s killing me. Can I just not go tonight?” “Dream on! You’re a murderer. Even if you’re on your last breath, you’ll kneel by that river!” Despair flooded my heart, and my tears froze on my cheeks. “I see, Mom. I’ll take my medicine and go.” But before I could even reach for the pills, she slapped them out of my hand. “You’re always lying or pretending to be sick. If there’s any justice in this world, you should have died in your father’s place!” she shouted, yanking me by the hair and dragging me to the car. At the riverbank, the icy wind sliced through me like a blade. I could barely stand. With every last shred of my strength, I clung to the car door and pleaded through tears, “Mom, please, don’t leave me. I’ll die…” But her response was a cold, brutal kick that sent me sprawling onto the icy ground. “If you’re going to die, then do it far away from me! I’m done with you. I’m sick of looking at your face!” I lay there in the freezing snow, watching helplessly as her car sped away until it vanished into the distance. I whispered, “Mom, did you really just leave me? “Mom, I’m unwell.” I jolted awake, startled by the furious barking of dogs. The bullies who had once made my life a living hell were now stumbling toward me. Their breath was heavy with the stench of liquor as their faces contorted into vicious smirks. At their side, the dogs growled, their eyes gleaming with a ravenous hunger as they bared their teeth, saliva dripping from their jaws. My hands trembled as I fumbled for my phone, dialing Lily’s number in a desperate plea for help. But all I heard were her cold, accusing words. When the call ended, my heart shattered, sinking into a void. I knew I would never see her again. “Mom, do you even know what this feels like? “The dogs tore into me, and the pain was unbearable. “The river water swallowed me whole, so cold it felt like it was stealing my soul. “Mom, I did as you wished. I’m gone now. I hope you’re happy without me,” I thought. A deafening clap of thunder jolted Lily awake. She glanced out the window at the storm raging outside as the relentless rain pounded against the glass. A flicker of unease crossed her face as she paced nervously around the room. Then, the doorbell rang. “You wretched thing. You still had the audacity to come back…”   When Lily finally made out who it was standing in the doorway, her brow furrowed in annoyance. “Why is it you?” she mumbled. Selena stood there, drenched to the bone, her entire body trembling with urgency. “Is Samantha okay? She hasn’t been to school in three days, and I can’t reach her. Have you heard anything?” Selena was my only friend. Despite being in different classes, we checked in on each other every single day, sharing our studies and our lives. We were inseparable, more like sisters than friends. But Lily turned her head away and muttered, “Who knows where that troublemaker has disappeared to? Probably ran off with some punk.” Selena’s body shook with rage, her fists clenching at her sides. “At a time like this, you’re spreading rumors about your own daughter? Do you even have a heart? “Samantha is cursed to have a mother like you. “You’re not caring about her whereabouts, huh? Fine, I’ll find her myself!” As Selena pulled out her phone to dial 911, Lily lunged forward, snatching the phone from her hand and smashing it onto the ground. “Who said you could butt in?” Lily shouted. “Even if Samantha is dead, it’s her own fault. What right do you have to call the police?” I watched her indifferent face as my heart was heavy with sorrow. Even a friend I’d known for less than half a year was searching for me, yet my mother couldn’t care less about my well-being. I murmured, “Maybe they’re right, Mom. You’ve always wished I was gone. And now, I am, just as you wanted.” Tears mingled with rain on Selena’s cheeks as she screamed in despair, “Lily Lane, you’ll regret this!” Then, she turned and ran back into the storm. I longed to hold my friend to wipe away her tears, but my transparent ghostly form couldn’t touch her. As I stood there, heartbroken and helpless, Lily suddenly fished her phone out of her pocket and started dialing my number. I shook my head and sighed, “My phone is lying at the bottom of a cold river. How could you possibly reach me, Mom?” When no one answered, Lily staggered into the house, and her shoulders slumped. I was bewildered and thought, “Weren’t you supposed to be happy, Mom? Isn’t this what you wanted?” Another frantic knock echoed through the house. Lily, already on edge, yanked the door open irritably. “What now…” Her voice cut off as her eyes landed on the visitor. Her body trembled uncontrollably as she clung to the doorframe for support. I turned, startled, to see who had arrived. Standing in the doorway was the man Lily had pined for all those years and the one who filled me with endless guilt. It was my father who had been “dead” for eight years. He was back, alive.

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My brother, Edward Blair, was baking a cake with Emma Thompson when I was locked in the tank by the killer. While my trachea was slowly cut open, and I could only let out agonized gasps, Edward coldly said on the other end of the phone, “Madison, you didn’t come back for Dad’s death anniversary. You’re so heartless. “Emma begged you to go see Dad, and you actually injured her. You have to apologize to Emma before you go to hell, even if you die.” Later, Edward personally dissected my body and analyzed the tragedy. But he didn’t know that the body he saw close at hand belonged to his own sister. ***** My body was fished out of the river. The salvage man was grim-faced as he stated the facts of the case to the police, “I thought I’d fish out the garbage while it wasn’t dark, but I didn’t realize that something had hit the fishing net.” As a leading forensic scientist, my brother Edward Blair was rushed to the scene of the crime by a phone call from his team leader, Frank Smith. He was still wearing a flour-stained apron. Frank frowned and said in a somewhat low voice, “Are you spending Madison’s birthday with her?” Edward froze and shook his head. “Emma wanted to eat the cake I baked. I don’t know where Madison’s been fooling around. She hasn’t been home in days, and I don’t care.” He seemed to have forgotten that it was my birthday. How ironic! Tears blurred my eyes. In a trance, I saw a young Edward smiling as he set the cupcake in front of me and said, “Madison, I’ll be there for you on every birthday from now on.” Now, I watched Edward take off his ridiculous apron, put on his gloves with a serious face, and get to work. My body was wrapped in a black bag, emitting a foul odor. Edward opened the bag, looking at the body, and froze. The body had almost no epidermis, exposing bare flesh that was soaked white. The only thing left of the corpse’s features was a nose, causing one’s heart to palpitate just by looking at it. But Edward didn’t even frown and ordered his assistant, Liam Ward, “Extract the DNA. This situation can only be compared with the database.” Liam said in surprise, “Edward, I think I’ve seen Madison wearing these shoes of the deceased.” I’d been stepped on by Liam earlier when I’d brought Edward his food. He was a bit embarrassed at the time and complimented me on my nice shoes, but I didn’t think he would recognize them. I had bought a pair of these shoes for Edward as well. Only, unfortunately, he hadn’t unpacked them since the beginning. Edward reprimanded in a muffled voice, saying, “Don’t mention irrelevant people. Mentioning her is insulting the dead.” I sighed gently, unable to keep my lips from trembling. In Edward’s mind, any dead person he handled was far more important than me. And I was a stain on his life. He finished the first autopsy quickly and sighed, “Let’s go back and check the stomach contents and liver temperature.” Watching the body being put into a bag, Frank patted Edward on the shoulder. “Edward, the victim was abused, right? That’s not an easy case.” It was nightfall when the body was found, and many walkers stood by to watch. The news of the body being recovered from the park spread quickly. Kevin Durant, the police chief, gave orders to solve the case as soon as possible to avoid social unrest. Frank patted Edward on the shoulder. “How many days will you probably need?” Edward rubbed his brow in some annoyance. “The body was dumped in the river in the park, and it was extremely damaged. Don’t get your hopes up.” I wanted to reach out and smooth Edward’s furrowed brow. But I couldn’t touch him. I’d always thought that my rigid relationship with Edward was a hindrance to our getting along. But at this moment, I realized that life and death were the great divide between Edward and me. I never had the chance to hear Edward call me sister again.

Frank sat in the conference room with a worried look on his face. He was holding an unlit cigarette. “This kind of case where we don’t know the origin of the body is the toughest.” A police officer speculated and said, “The corpse is so tragic. Could it be a crime of passion?” Edward shook his head. “The time of death is around three days. The victim was abused and then drowned. The killer’s motive does need to be sorted out.” Frank suddenly thought of something and looked at Edward. “Edward, Madison is a famous psychologist, and Rivarity City authorities invited her to give a lecture on criminal psychology some time ago. Ask her to analyze this case…” Before he could finish, Edward interrupted with a sharp voice, “Madison? She’s just a fake expert with a false reputation. Who dares to use someone as ruthless as her?” Liam, who was at the side, pressed his lips and whispered, “Madison is not that kind of person.” Edward snorted coldly and slammed the pen in his hand on the table. He said, “I know best what kind of person she is. I won’t work with her on this case. I’m going to the autopsy first.” Frank shook his head and ordered helplessly, “What are you guys waiting for? Go and extract traces from the scene, visit the witnesses in groups, and take statements.” After that, he looked at Edward’s back and muttered, “With this attitude towards his sister, he’ll regret it one day sooner or later.” I sniffled, tears surfacing in my eyes. How could Edward regret it? He hated me more than he could say. I had tried countless times to explain the misunderstanding between us, but Edward would always interrupt me coldly, “You killed Dad and put Mom in a vegetative state. What reason do you have to tell me that you’re right?” Every time I looked at Edward’s disgusted and distrustful eyes, I could only swallow the truth of the matter. I had wanted to wait for Edward’s birthday this year to have a good chat with him. But I didn’t get the chance after all. In the autopsy room, Edward held the scalpel tightly and bowed his head for a moment of silence. He calmly used the scalpel to cut through the chest cavity of the corpse, and the pungent smell instantly rushed into his nostrils. But Edward remained calm but froze at the sight of the corpse’s left arm. Liam came over curiously and said, “Did the killer carve this?” Edward’s rubber-gloved hand fumbled with the gray tattoo on the puffy arm. “No. It looks like it’s been tattooed for a long time.” He sighed, a little compassionately, “The victim would be close to the family. The tattoo would have been all four of their family.” My eyes were so sore and swollen that tears flowed out as if I was trying to get all my aggression out. After my dad, David Blair, died, my mom, Nicole Blair, went into a coma. From that day on, I had no home. I tattooed a picture of us together on my arm, expecting Edward to be touched. But he just glanced at me coldly. “What did you tattoo? It’s disgusting. Get out of here.” Edward regarded me as an enemy, seeing only Emma as his sister. But the car accident at the time was because of Emma. She had clamored for David to stop for a cake and then went to grab David’s steering wheel. Immediately afterward, our car collided with an oncoming van. I woke up with multiple fractures and couldn’t move. But Edward was in the next ward with Emma, who had a mild concussion. He didn’t come to see me even until I was discharged from the hospital. But after I died, Edward cast more eyes on my corpse than he had looked at me all these years. If Edward knew that Emma, the only good sister in his heart, had something to do with my death, would he shed a single tear for me?

Edward’s cell phone rang. Liam looked at it and said gently, “Edward, it’s your sister.” But he said impatiently, “Don’t you know I’m busy? Tell Madison not to bother me.” Liam said, “Edward, it’s not Madison.” Edward froze for a moment as if puzzled that I hadn’t contacted him in so many days. But soon, a warm smile filled his eyes. He hastily removed his gloves and softly said, “Emma, what’s wrong? I’m not busy. Go ahead.” I laughed mockingly. Edward’s attitude towards me and Emma had always been worlds apart. I should have gotten used to it long ago. Emma’s pitiful voice rang out. “Edward, I accidentally broke Madison’s trophy in the living room when I was cleaning the house. I’m afraid she’ll be angry.” I widened my eyes, which were bloodshot from anger. That trophy was one I had gotten from a competition when I was a kid. Edward had set it out in the living room with pride on his face, then cleaned it to perfection. “Madison is just the best. I want everyone to know how good Madison is.” But now, Edward was only concerned with comforting Emma, who pretended to be frightened. “Emma, don’t be afraid. If Madison gets mad at you, I’ll keep her out of the house for the rest of her life.” What he didn’t realize was that I would never be able to come home again. Maybe when he learned of my death, Edward would even be glad to finally not have to see me again. Edward handed the autopsy records to Frank, who had returned with the team. He said, “Frank, I’m going home to eat and change before I come back. I haven’t been with my sister in a couple of days.” Frank chuckled, “Didn’t you say you didn’t care about your sister before? You should be nice to Madison from now on. It hasn’t been easy for her all these years.” Edward’s face instantly gloomed, a hint of dislike in his eyes. “I don’t have a sister like Madison. She doesn’t deserve my kindness after what she’s done to the family. Emma is well-behaved and understanding, but Madison is a heartless asshole.” Frank said somewhat meaningfully, “I’m an old friend of David and Nicole’s and kind of watched you and Madison grow up. You should hear Madison’s feelings.” Edward put on his jacket and said somewhat helplessly, “Frank, you don’t have to talk me into this. On my dad’s death anniversary, Madison never went to pay her respects to him. Sometimes, I wonder if her heart is black.” Edward had never doubted Emma’s lies. Back then, when we were in that car accident, Emma was less injured than me. Waking up first, she told Edward that I had been arguing with David and Nicole, causing them to be distracted before the tragedy. Edward then considered me to be a cold-blooded scourge. David and Nicole had sponsored Emma. Later, her house caught fire, and she was the only one who survived. David and Nicole adopted Emma because they felt sorry for her as an orphan. But then, I realized that she seemed to be trying to replace me. Emma must be very pleased with herself now. After all, at her instigation, Edward regarded me as his enemy. I could only cry and tell Nicole, who was in a coma, my grievances when I visited her. I was more of a helpless orphan than Emma. Edward returned home and didn’t pick up the pieces of the trophy on the floor. Instead, he rubbed Emma’s hair with concern. “You’re not hurt, are you? I’ll clean up the floor later.” I looked at the broken trophy on the floor, and it was as if my heart had broken a big hole in it as well. Edward, who had once seen me as proud, now only thought I was trash. Emma’s long eyelashes blocked out the laughter in her eyes. “Edward, is Madison still mad at me? She hasn’t been home in days.” Edward glanced at her gauze-wrapped left hand with some distress. “I’ll make Madison apologize to you. She’s just a sinful person with an evil heart.” It was true that I had caused the injury on Emma’s hand. But it was from my struggles when she was killing me. I wished so much for Edward to discover Emma’s true colors. Watching the way they cared for each other, I only felt my heart hurt like a blazing fire was burning it. Until I died, Edward remained a believer in Emma. However, it didn’t matter, and I would never come home and bother them anymore.   Edward’s cell phone rang, and his warm and fuzzy time with Emma was forced to end. Frank’s voice rang out. “We found new evidence. Edward, come back and do another autopsy.” Edward rushed back to the station and let out a sigh as he looked at the bag of facial features that had been cut off on the autopsy table. He said, “What kind of hate makes a killer actually go this far?” Edward put on gloves and pieced together the facial features but paused when he picked up my right ear because there was a crescent-shaped scar on that earlobe. It was a wound from an accidental rollover when Edward was riding me on his bike when I was a kid. At that time, Edward looked at the blood on my ear and comforted me while crying, saying, “Madison, don’t be afraid. I will protect you in the future.” Edward blinked and seemed to remember something. I felt nervous. Did Edward recognize me? But the next second, he continued his work with a calm face. Edward and I missed each other once again. Frank’s voice was a little restless. “Edward, I think Madison has such a scar on her ear as well.” Liam chimed in, “Yes. Edward, every time you have a stomach problem, Madison brings you a nutritious meal she made. This time, you’ve been having a hard time for a few days, and I haven’t seen Madison come yet.” Edward’s diet was irregular, so he had terrible stomach aches every time. I went to a traditional physician specifically to get a prescription for medicinal diets. Afraid that Edward would not want to eat what I made, I had to ask Frank or Liam to pass it on. Everyone else could see my love for Edward, but only Edward thought I was a cold-blooded person. Edward sneered, mockery in his eyes, “Madison won’t die if anyone dies. In her mind, her life is more important than anyone else.” Frank rubbed his temples and said somewhat helplessly, “Well, I’ve got orders to get a criminal profiler to assist with this case. “Contact Madison in a few minutes and tell her to come to the station this afternoon. Don’t say you’re not working with her. That’s an order.” Edward gently pressed his lips together and reluctantly agreed. But when he dialed my number, all he heard was an electronic tone. He said, “She’s still having a tantrum at this hour. I knew I shouldn’t have trusted her.” With that, Edward sent me the message: [Madison, you don’t have to come home if you don’t answer the phone. People with evil hearts don’t deserve to work with me in the first place.] I rubbed my eyes and wiped my tears hard. Edward, I wanted so much to stand by your side openly and solve cases with you. However, I could no longer do that. At that moment, Edward’s cell phone rang. He answered the phone and sternly scolded, “Madison, come to the station right now. I’m too busy to play the disappearance game with you.” The person on the other end of the line froze for a moment and said awkwardly, “Mr. Blair, your mother’s medical bills for this month have not been paid. We can’t reach Ms. Blair.” Edward opened his mouth, a flash of confusion in his eyes. Then, he said, “Okay, I’ll pay the bill later.” I was the one who went to the hospital every month to pay the bills all the years Nicole was hospitalized for her coma and recuperation. Edward was busy at work, and I made time every week to talk to Nicole and give Nicole a massage. But Emma never visited Nicole once. On the contrary, she would sarcastically say when I went to visit Nicole, “Your mom is fortunate. Why don’t you just pull out her oxygen tube? How pointless to be a vegetable like that!” She had caused Nicole to be like this, and she had the nerve to say such things. I pushed Emma, but Edward bumped into it. He slammed the vase on the table hard on me and scolded, “Madison, are you crazy? How could you do this to Emma? You’re so mean.” Emma deserved a lot of the credit for my relationship with Edward being so bad. Edward hung up the phone and rubbed his temples in annoyance. He complained to Liam, “What’s wrong with Madison? She doesn’t even pay my mom’s hospital bill. What is she fooling around with every day?” Liam gulped and advised, “Edward, Madison isn’t the type of person who would purposely pretend to be missing to fool you. I’m a little worried about her safety.” Edward waved his hand and picked up his work case. “You don’t have to speak for her. Frank and I will go to the crime scene and take another look. Contact me if anything happens.” The men from the trace inspection section were rummaging carefully through the dirt at the crime scene. Suddenly, someone said, “Frank, there’s a new lead here.” Edward was about to go up and check it out, but his phone rang. Liam breathed rapidly and sounded panicked. “Edward, the DNA test results are in. Why don’t you come back to the station?” Edward said helplessly, “I have a new lead over here. Just send the test report to Frank.” Liam held his breath for a moment and slowed his voice. “Edward, the results from the database comparison show that the victim is your sister, Madison.” Edward’s cell phone instantly dropped to the floor.

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After the miscarriage, I lay in the ICU for an entire month. Meanwhile, my husband was off traveling around with his so-called “true love.” It wasn’t until he decided to divorce me that he remembered I existed. He called my mom, demanding to know how long I was going to “keep making trouble”. My mother looked at me, her daughter teetering on the edge of death, and said bitterly, “She won’t bother you anymore. Are you happy now?” ***** I was admitted to the ICU. That same day, the day I lost the baby, I was dying—massive blood loss, organ damage. And the cruelest part? The one who caused all of this was none other than my husband, Dominick Vanderbilt. The day everything went wrong for me was his birthday. I had prepared a table full of his favorite dishes, baked a cake from scratch, and decorated the house to look incredibly romantic. On top of all the designer gifts, I had something special and priceless for Dominick—a gift I’d been waiting years to give. I was pregnant. After five years of trying, we finally had this hard-won miracle. I thought this baby would be a miracle for us—a gift to celebrate his birthday and a lifeline to save our crumbling marriage. That was why I chose his birthday to share the news. I was so sure it would change everything. But when he came home from work, he just quickly changed his clothes and said Madison Blair had been admitted to the hospital and needed someone by her side. Then, without a second thought, he turned to leave again. I grabbed his arm, unable to believe what I was hearing. “Dominick, I worked so hard on this… And I… I have something really important to tell you.” Dominick shook me off and said coldly, “Peyton, Maddy’s in the hospital alone. I have to go.” The warmth drained from my face instantly. Ever since Madison came back into his life, it was like she’d stolen his soul. Madison, the one who got away, his so-called first love, had always held a unique and irreplaceable place in Dominick’s heart. Realizing this, I slowly let my hand drop and asked bitterly, “Dominick, is Madison really that important to you? Is she more important than me?” Dominick shot me an impatient look. “Can you not start with your nonsense right now? Madison saved my life back then. She’s in trouble now; what’s wrong with me helping her out?” He didn’t even wait for me to argue. Instead, he cut me off before I could speak, saying, “Madison and I are clean—nothing has ever happened between us. If you keep doubting me like this, there’s no way we can go on living together.” His gaze turned cold like he was staring at an enemy rather than his wife. Anger boiled inside me, and I reached out to grab Dominick, desperate to stop him. But he shoved me away without hesitation. The door slammed as he walked out, never once looking back. I stumbled and lost my balance, hitting the corner of the table hard before collapsing to the floor. Pain shot through me in waves. I could feel my body trembling uncontrollably before everything went dark. When I woke up again, I was standing—of all places—at the edge of my own hospital bed. I looked down at myself, pale and covered in tubes. My face was expressionless, hollow. It hit me then. When a person hovers between life and death, their unrelenting obsessions can turn into a spirit, forcing them to become a silent spectator of the world they can’t quite leave behind. I wanted to cry but couldn’t. Seeing my mother outside the ward, her hair snow-white after just one night, ripped my heart to shreds. And when I realized Dominick was the one responsible for all of this, that burning sense of injustice pulled me like a magnet—I found myself standing right by his side. Dominick was in another hospital at the time. He sat by Madison’s bedside, his hand wrapped gently around hers, his expression full of worry. “Don’t worry. Just focus on getting better. I’ll take care of everything else.” Madison gave him a weak smile and, using what little strength she had, rested her head on his shoulder. “Dom, I’m so lucky to have you. Without you, I really don’t know what I’d do…” Feeling her dependence, he smiled in satisfaction as though this was exactly where he belonged. Madison nestled closer to him and pouted softly, “But Dom, if you’re always here with me, won’t Peyton get upset?” When Dominick heard my name, his face twisted into a scowl, his voice dripping with disdain. “Who cares? She’s always picking fights for no reason, accusing me of being unfaithful to her and looking for any excuse to argue. Tell me, who could stand living like that? If it comes to it, I’ll just divorce her and be done with it!”

Dominick stayed with Madison until her IV drip was finished and then took her home. I could see that Madison didn’t want him to leave, and honestly, he didn’t seem like he wanted to go either. Madison clung to his arm, looking heartbreakingly fragile. “Dom, I’ve been feeling really down lately. Once I feel better in a couple of days, can you take me out somewhere?” Dominick’s face softened with obvious affection. “Of course I can.” Madison’s father had recently declared bankruptcy due to poor business decisions. She’d gone from the privileged heiress of a wealthy family to someone struggling to get by. Dominick understood her struggles and heartbreak. To make matters worse, her emotional turmoil was taking a toll on her health—she seemed to be in pain all the time, one place hurting today, another tomorrow. It was as if her body couldn’t bear the burden. Dominick only wanted to take care of her. “Maddy, just tell me where you want to go, and I’ll make it happen. You know I have the means to take care of you now.” Madison’s expression lit up with joy. “Thanks, Dom. You have no idea how much that means to me.” I stood there, right in front of them, listening to every word, but all I could do was give a bitter smile. Dominick’s job kept him swamped. When we got married, we didn’t even take a honeymoon. In the five years we’d been together, he never once suggested taking me on a trip. He hardly even had the time to go shopping with me—those moments were rare, painfully so. I understood how hard he worked. So, I never complained and never asked for more. I poured all my energy into being a good wife, taking care of him in every way I could. But what did I get in return? His cold indifference. His absence. I’d tried, I really had, to reignite something between us. I wore makeup, bought beautiful dresses—tried to look the way I thought Dominick might notice. But it was all pointless. Because the moment Madison entered the picture, I stopped existing in his eyes. Every time he abandoned me, abandoned our family, to be with her, I’d pick a fight. I couldn’t help it. And every time, he’d either freeze me out or turn it around, calling me childish and unreasonable. When I was alive, I couldn’t fight him on this. And now, as I hover so close to death, I still can’t. Dominick spent the night at Madison’s place. They didn’t share a bed, but the subtle tension between them had already deepened. The next day, I followed Dominick out. I watched as a man who had always prioritized work spent the entire day on the phone during office hours, meticulously arranging every detail of an extravagant trip. From booking first-class flights to reserving five-star hotels, he handled everything personally, leaving nothing to chance. Once he was done, he happily prepared for the upcoming trip with Madison. It was as if my existence meant nothing to him. He didn’t know my condition—didn’t care to know—and acted as though he’d forgotten I was his wife altogether. While my mother sat by my bedside, crying every night for me, the man I had loved my whole life was off enjoying himself with another woman. I watched as they visited the most popular tourist cities, sampled exotic foods, and Dominick took countless beautiful photos of Madison. Dominick treated her with the utmost respect. He insisted on booking two separate rooms every night and tiptoed around her, careful not to cross any lines. His restraint made it clear—he treasured her. Seeing the constant glow of happiness on Madison’s face, I felt nothing. There wasn’t even a hint of jealousy left in me. I didn’t believe in them. Even if they did end up together, I knew they wouldn’t last. Men like Dominick, who lose interest the moment they get what they want, were incapable of holding onto happiness. I quietly trailed them for a month. When the trip finally ended, Dominick returned home, exhausted and ready to rest. But when he opened the front door, he was greeted by the rotting stench of spoiled leftovers on the dining table and a dark, dried pool of blood on the floor. The house was a wreck. The air reeked of something sour and putrid. Dominick, who had always been a clean freak, turned pale with disgust at the sight. Without a second thought, he pulled out his phone and called me. He didn’t notice my phone sitting dead on the sofa, shut off because the battery had run out days ago. One call. No answer. Two calls. Still nothing. Three calls. Silence. On the fourth call, when it went straight to voicemail, Dominick finally lost his patience. He exploded. “Peyton Reeves! If you want a divorce, just say it. There’s no need for this stupid silent treatment. Look at this place. It’s disgusting! If you have the guts, come back here right now. We’ll go file for divorce immediately!”

Response to Dominick came in the form of cold, lifeless beeps over the line. After a few seconds of stunned silence, he angrily stuffed his phone back into his pocket and stormed out the door again. He went back to Madison’s place. Even though he had been traveling with his beloved for a month, the packed itinerary was beginning to wear on Dominick. When he mentioned wanting to eat, Madison immediately chimed in, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, “I’ll order takeout then. What do you feel like eating, Dom?” For a split second, an almost imperceptible look of distaste flickered across Dominick’s face. Days of eating at restaurants and street stalls had taken their toll—his stomach had been protesting for a while now. Not that Madison would ever notice. But he smoothed out his expression quickly, giving her a doting smile. “Anything’s fine. Just order whatever you like.” I knew what Dominick truly wanted right now—a homemade meal. A refreshing salad and braised beef—the kind that wasn’t overly greasy or rich. Dominick had a sensitive stomach and a strict palate—he liked his food light, with plenty of restrictions. I was the only one who could remember every little detail about what he liked and didn’t like. No scallions, ginger, or garlic. He avoided peanut oil like the plague. He refused organ meats and hated fish with too many bones. I knew which dishes needed a delicate touch and which ones needed to be rich and flavorful. Every detail about his diet, I had it down to a science. Back then, whenever Dominick had been out for days of social engagements, he would always come home with an upset stomach, vomiting, and running to the bathroom for no apparent reason. During those times, all it took was the simplest homemade meal from me to calm his stomach—and his mood—effortlessly. But he never noticed what I did for him—or how much thought I put into it. In his mind, since he was the one making money, since he was the one “providing” for this household, everything I did was just expected. Of course, Madison was different. In Dominick’s eyes, she was a pampered heiress, her hands too precious to ever hold a kitchen knife. The fact that she didn’t cook? Completely normal. Understandable, even. After all, her hands were more valuable than diamonds. When the delivery arrived, I watched him poking around with a fork in the takeout box, hesitating and picking at the food without really eating. Madison asked innocently, “Do you not like this stuff, Dom?” Dominick smiled faintly and shook his head, though a flicker of disappointment still crossed his face. Madison, sharp-eyed, noticed something was off and pressed again. “Dom, it feels like you’re not into these trendy dishes at all. What do you actually like? I’ll order more of that next time.” He then described his preferences as if they were nothing, saying, “I’m not picky. A plain Caesar salad, light braised beef—those are good enough for me.” His tone was casual, but there was something hard to define in his expression. It lingered in his eyes for just a second before disappearing. I wanted so badly to tell Dominick that even a simple Caesar salad and braised beef weren’t as easy to make as he thought. But then again, it didn’t really matter anymore. Whether he knew or not wouldn’t change the fact that I’d already given up on him. He barely ate anything from that meal. Afterward, he cleaned up the takeout containers half-heartedly and took the trash downstairs. I watched as he tossed the bag into the bin and then pulled out his phone again. I watched as Dominick tried calling my phone again. Three times in a row. Each time, the automated voice told him the phone was turned off. Growing frustrated, he became visibly agitated, pacing back and forth while scrolling through his contacts over and over. But he didn’t know a thing about my social circle, nor did he recognize any of my friends. After I quit my job, I’d lost touch with most of my former colleagues, too. When his search turned up nothing, Dominick finally dialed my mom. The moment someone picked up, his frustration boiled over. He demanded furiously, “How long is your daughter planning to keep this up? Tell Peyton this nonsense has to stop. If she keeps acting like this, I’ll divorce her!”   My mom never knew that, in this marriage, I was the one who constantly tolerated Dominick and compromised for him. To stop her from worrying, every time she asked, I always told her over and over, “Mom, don’t worry, I’m really happy. Dominick loves me so much. He’d never let me suffer. Besides, I wouldn’t let myself be mistreated either.” She always believed me without hesitation. But now, faced with this brutal reality, my mom was heartbroken. “Are you even human, Dominick? Your wife’s been lying in the ICU for a month, and not only do you ignore her, but you’re calling this nonsense?” It was the first time I’d ever heard my mother’s voice so sharp and loud. In my memory, my mom had always been gentle, a little timid even. But now, this woman—my mother—was standing up against the world for me, her voice fierce and cutting. “Dominick, you heartless bastard! You don’t deserve my daughter!” Dominick looked stunned, caught off guard by the verbal assault. But he quickly snapped back, his anger flaring, “Stop spouting this nonsense, you old hag! How the hell could Peyton be in the ICU for a month? Isn’t it enough for her to stir up trouble on her own? Now she’s dragging you into it, too? This is ridiculous!” For a second, I caught a flicker of disbelief on his face. But beneath that was contempt, doubt, and sheer annoyance. It was at this moment I finally realized just how cruel and cold a man could be. My mom, enraged by Dominick’s heartless words, screamed back at him, her voice cracking, “Dominick, even if my daughter dies and becomes a ghost, she won’t forgive you. And not just her—if I die, I’ll come back as a vengeful spirit and haunt you too!” Dominick’s hand clenched his phone so tightly his knuckles turned white, the veins in his neck bulging. “Shut up! Peyton can’t be dead! Tell her to get out here and face me. If she’s gonna die, she better divorce me first.”

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During the birthday celebration of my parents’ fake daughter, I accidentally ruined her cake. My parents and brother, without a moment’s hesitation, locked me away in the basement. “You’ve ruined the party with your jealousy,” they spat. “Stay here and think about what you’ve done!” The perfect family of four jetted off to Crystal Island to throw another birthday party for their precious fake daughter, leaving me alone in the cold, dark basement. But fate had an even crueler twist in store. A gas leak had been slowly filling the house, and I remained trapped below. When they remotely switched on the lights, the entire mansion erupted into a devastating explosion. In an instant, I was gone. Even in death, my spirit lingered, drifting weightlessly to their location. There they were, on a pristine beach, surrounding their beloved fake daughter. The luxurious three-tiered cake was wheeled out, and my parents and brother gathered around the imposter, their faces glowing with affection as they watched her make her birthday wish. The imposter put on a show of concern, asking about my well-being with false sincerity. “You’re just too kind-hearted, Clair,” they told her. “Someone like that needs to be taught a lesson by being locked up at home. That’ll make her think twice before trying to steal from you again.” Those words shattered any remaining hope I had in them. Yet, when they returned home to find the mansion reduced to rubble, my parents and brother completely lost their minds. ***** “Dad, Mom, Tommy, thank you for celebrating my birthday with me.” Clair Henderson’s eyes sparkled with joy as she gazed at her parents, Oscar and Nicole Henderson, and her brother, Thomas Henderson, aboard the luxury cruise ship. “This will truly be a day I’ll never forget.” She was a vision in her million-dollar Chanel couture gown, crowned with a diamond tiara so brilliant it could blind. Like a princess from a fairy tale, she basked in the spotlight of their undivided attention. My parents and brother gazed at her with unbridled adoration. No one could see me standing nearby, silently watching them, because I was already dead, and they couldn’t see my soul. But what difference would it make if they could? In this family, I had always been invisible anyway. “Clair is truly the crown jewel of the Henderson family. This birthday party must have cost millions of dollars at least,” one of the bystanders whispered. “And that’s not all—I saw that pink diamond necklace she’s wearing at an auction. It was worth eight million dollars.” “Clair is so lucky to have such a family who cherishes her so much.” Hearing the guests’ admiring comments aboard the yacht, I revealed a bitter smile. Yes, how lucky she was indeed. I was the true Ms. Henderson, yet she was nothing but an imposter who stole my place in the family. Yet, my own flesh and blood, my family, only had eyes for her. They had even forgotten that Clair and I shared the same birthday. But while she had a party, I didn’t even get a single present. Not even a slice of birthday cake was saved for me. Then Clair, surrounded by their adoration, suddenly brought up my name. “Oh, yes, is it really okay to leave Izzy alone at home? Even though she ruined my birthday party, I’m sure she didn’t mean to. Dad, Mom, Tommy, please don’t be angry at her because of me.” Her tone was sincere, her face etched with concern as if she genuinely cared about my well-being. Thomas let out a cold snort. “That bitch will be fine! Clair, you’re just too kind-hearted. That’s why she was able to bully you!” My parents nodded in agreement. “That’s right, Clair. Don’t worry about her. She’s old enough to know better, but she has no manners at all. We’re just teaching her a little lesson,” my father Oscar sneered. “That’s what she gets for being so jealous and ruining your birthday party,” my mother Nicole said. “She’ll think twice before trying to steal from you again!” Their words sent an icy chill down my spine. They called it a “lesson”. Their idea of a lesson was locking me alone in a dark basement after sending all the servants away. I was left alone in that massive mansion, trapped in a basement with no food or water. They called this just a lesson?

Clair’s birthday party was supposed to be held at our mansion. When they wheeled out her custom five-tier cake, I suddenly felt hands shoving me from behind. Before I could catch myself, I crashed straight into the cake. Cake frosting and fruit covered my face and clothes. I would never forget the mockery in the guests’ expressions, nor the accusations hurled at me by my parents and Thomas. They claimed I was jealous of Clair, that I deliberately ruined her birthday celebration. My protests fell on deaf ears—not a single person was willing to believe me. “No wonder the headmaster said you had behavioral issues, Isabella. You’re a complete waste of space.” Thomas frowned. “Only Clair and I were standing behind you. What? Are you going to accuse us of pushing you?” The way Thomas looked at me then—like I was something filthy he’d found on the bottom of his shoe. He yanked me violently, sending me crashing to the floor. My face contorted in pain as my knees hit the ground. My already pathetic state now looked even more pitiful. The stares of onlookers cut into me like knives, but the deepest wounds came from my own family. My parents cast one disappointed look at me before ordering the servants to lock me in the basement. Then they whisked away their “aggrieved” Clair to Crystal Island, chartering a luxury cruise ship to throw their precious princess a new birthday celebration. Meanwhile, I suffered alone in the basement. The truth was the person, who had switched Clair and me, had abandoned me at an orphanage where I grew up. No one knew that beneath the headmaster’s kind facade lay a woman who took pleasure in tormenting me behind closed doors. Whenever I made a mistake, she would lock me in a tiny dark room. That pitch-black chamber had no light whatsoever, making it impossible to tell how much time had passed. If even adults would break down in such conditions, how could we children possibly cope? I had almost managed to bury those painful memories. But the people who should have been closest to me forced me to remember everything. Terror ripped through me as I screamed in desperation, clawing at the basement door until my fingernails left bloody trails across its surface. My pleas went unanswered. That was when the crushing realization hit me—the house was empty. They had abandoned me. I pulled out my phone with trembling hands, calling my parents and Thomas countless times, even sending desperate messages begging them to release me. But they had blocked my number, and my messages disappeared into a void, never to be answered. They were determined to punish me. Their hearts hardened against any plea. Just as I was on the brink of breaking down, a distinct smell hit me—like rotten eggs permeating the air. The realization struck immediately—gas was leaking throughout the house. With the doors firmly locked, there was no escape. I could only huddle in the corner, pressing clothing against my nose and mouth in a desperate attempt to breathe. Then, at the worst possible moment, the mansion’s lights flickered on. In the next instant, the entire house was obliterated, reduced to nothing but rubble on the ground. I couldn’t escape the blast. The explosion threw my body several feet, tearing it apart so completely that not even an intact corpse remained. Yet my family remained completely unaware. Thomas pulled out his phone and dialed my number impatiently. But my old flip phone had been destroyed in the blast, and his call went unanswered. This had never happened before. I had set unique ringtones for each family member and always answered their calls instantly. This was the first time I had ever failed to respond. Thomas furrowed his brow slightly, showing signs of unease. Noticing this, Clair quickly moved closer to him, her face filled with concern. “Is Izzy angry?” she asked softly. At her words, Thomas’ unease immediately vanished. “She’s the one who did wrong. What right does she have to be angry? “If you ask me, she should be begging for your forgiveness! This is your 18th birthday celebration, for heaven’s sake!” A flicker of sadness crossed Clair’s face, but she still managed a smile. “It’s okay, Tommy. You’ve all made it up to me already. I’m sure Izzy didn’t mean any harm.” Her words, so mature and understanding, only made Oscar, Nicole, and Thomas feel even more protective of her. Of course, their disgust towards me only grew stronger. I overheard Nicole muttering under her breath, “Why couldn’t Clair be my biological daughter instead?” “Isabella is just so…” She clicked her tongue in disapproval. Perhaps because I had already lost all faith in them, these words no longer hurt me like they used to. There was just one thing I couldn’t understand. If they never loved me, why did they go through all the trouble of bringing me home in the first place?

My confusion was soon answered. After Clair’s birthday celebration, everyone retired to their rooms. With nowhere else to go, I followed my parents. Oscar sank into the sofa, wearily massaging his temples. Nicole pulled out various medications from her suitcase and laid them out in front of him. “Oscar, you need to get admitted to the hospital soon,” she urged. “The hospital just sent word that Isabella’s compatibility results are back—she’s a match. Now that we have a kidney donor, you can finally get the surgery.” Oscar let out a heavy sigh. “But what if Isabella refuses to donate? She’s always been selfish.” Nicole let out a cold snort, slamming her glass down on the table. “What right does she have to refuse? It’s just one kidney! After the donation, we’d take care of her for the rest of her life. Isn’t that enough? “If it weren’t for your condition, I wouldn’t even want to see such an ill-mannered girl in our house! Ever since she came back, look at all the grief she’s caused Clair!” The mention of me set off a torrent of complaints from Nicole. Oscar’s expression darkened. “That’s enough,” he said. “She is still our biological daughter, after all. If it hadn’t been for Clair’s birth mother, she wouldn’t have ended up in that orphanage. “Though she might not have suffered there, she still had a hard time.” Nicole rolled her eyes. “What’s there to feel sorry about? Didn’t you hear what the headmaster said? She treated Isabella like her own daughter, and Isabella nearly killed her in return! “Such a cold-hearted woman deserves whatever suffering comes her way. Besides, how can we blame Clair for what her mother did?” Oscar seemed to agree with Nicole’s reasoning. He took his medicine from the table before speaking again, “Alright, I’m not blaming Clair. If anyone’s to blame, it’s that girl’s fate. “Like you said, dear, after she donates her kidney, we’ll buy her a house and support her for life. That should be enough.” Nicole finally seemed satisfied. “That’s more like it. Clair is the only daughter in my heart. You should buy a house far away from here. I don’t want to keep seeing her. Who knows? She might try to harm me next.” After chatting for a while longer, they turned off the lights and went to bed. No one saw me standing there, frozen in place for over half an hour. So that was how it was. They only brought me back because they needed my kidney. Their coldness towards me was because they believed the lies of that cruel headmaster who always bullied me. So, they never loved me at all. I suddenly found myself laughing at the absurdity of it all, doubling over and clutching my stomach. But as I laughed, tears began streaming down my face, beyond my control. Why did it have to be this way? I truly believed I was finally about to be loved. But it was all just an elaborate deception. After calming myself, I walked to my parents’ bedside and gazed at their sleeping faces. They looked just like the parents I’d imagined as a child. Oscar was tall and handsome, while Nicole was beautiful and gentle. But now, they were monsters to me. They weren’t my mom and dad but Clair’s. They would never protect me, only Clair. From beginning to end, they had never once believed in me. As bitterness spread through my heart, I found my hand reaching out, fingers brushing against Nicole’s delicate neck. But in the end, I couldn’t bring myself to do it. There was a saying that rang true. While parents might have many children, a child only had one set of parents. No one ever taught me how to stop loving my parents when they didn’t love me back. I curled up in the corner, trying to find some comfort in myself. But suddenly, the silence of the night was shattered by Oscar’s ringtone. He answered the phone in a drowsy haze. Then, I heard the voice on the other end. “Is this Mr. Henderson? There’s been an explosion at your home due to a gas leak. We’ve found a female body at the scene. Would you be able to come back and assist with our investigation?”

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When my acceptance letter arrived, I was bedridden with a sudden high fever. My sister, Lainey Holmes, was taken away on her way to collect it, and no one knew if she was alive or dead. My parents, consumed by their grief and anger, turned on me. They tore up my acceptance letter and forced me to abandon my studies to work in a factory. Eventually, I was taken away, too. After a narrow escape, I sought refuge in an abandoned factory and sent my parents a desperate message for help. My father called in a voice filled with rage. “Sophie Holmes, are you out of your mind? You’re joking about that on the anniversary of Lainey’s death? “Do you have any idea how much your mother and I wish it was you who died that year?” Even in my final moments, their hateful words rang in my ear. I was tortured to death, and my body was discarded in a gutter for three days. Even my father, a seasoned forensic expert, couldn’t recognize me. When Lainey finally returned with her boyfriend—the one she had once eloped with—my father had just barely restored my appearance using forensic techniques. They knelt before my decaying corpse, wailing until they fainted. ***** It had been pouring for three days; the entire city felt drenched, a suffocating fog blanketing everything. When my bloated body finally floated out of the gutter, I terrified many onlookers. An eight-year-old boy was frightened and cried, clinging to his mother as she soothed him softly. As I watched them, tears filled my eyes. I hadn’t felt my mother’s embrace in years. Since Lainey went missing six years ago, my parents had only aimed their hatred at me. They hadn’t even given me a smile, let alone a hug. Soon, a cordon surrounded the scene, and I stood in the crowd, silently watching my rotting body. A police car pulled up, and my eyes lit up when the door swung open. My father’s colleague, Jace, hurried over to brief him. “Calvin, it looks like the body has been in the water for three days. With the rainstorm, any evidence at the scene may have been washed away. You’ll need to put extra effort into examining the body. “The DNA from the deceased has been sent to the lab, and we’ll get the results as soon as possible.” When my father laid eyes on my body, he frowned, his eyes reddening. Clenching his fists, he ground out. “This is so cruel!” I glanced at my lifeless form. The sight was indeed horrific. My hands and feet had been severed, my face mutilated beyond recognition, and even my eyeballs had been gouged out. The terror I felt before my death lingered on my features. My mouth was agape because I had screamed and cried before my death, and my tongue was severed, adding to the gruesome scene. At one glance, my father shed tears. I wept silently behind him. He hadn’t cried for me in six long years. He crouched in front of my body, his trembling hands tracing the scars that marred my skin. In a broken voice, he murmured, “The features of the deceased are unrecognizable, but it appears to be a young woman around 25 years old. “She endured multiple beatings before she was killed. Damn it. What kind of monster could do this? She was so young. Her family must be shattered!” Tears streamed down my face as I listened. Dad, if you knew it was me before you, would your heart ache just a little? After all, I was the one you hated the most in this world. For countless nights, you had screamed at me to go to hell. Now, you finally had what you wanted.

My lifeless body was placed into body bags and transported to my father’s office. Before long, my limbs were located and sent to him without delay. Jace frowned as he stood before the autopsy table, pointing to my finger. “Calvin, take a look. This deceased has clenched fists, but the middle finger of her right hand is broken off. Could there have been jewelry that could help identify her?” “I think so,” my father replied, nodding in agreement. Jace hesitated, glancing at my father. “I remember Sophie wears a ring on the middle finger of her right hand…” My father lifted his gaze, a hint of annoyance in his eyes. “There are plenty of people who wear rings. Do you think it’s that simple to kill her?” Jace, clearly anxious, grabbed my father’s arm, still wearing his gloves. “Calvin, do you remember that serial killer?” My father shuddered at the mention. That case had haunted him for years. Six years ago, he was the city’s most renowned forensic expert, while my mother was the youngest head of the Criminal Investigation Department. Back then, Jace was one of my mother’s subordinates. They were consumed by the hunt for a killer who had claimed the lives of eight girls, working tirelessly for a month without returning home. The killer was eventually apprehended, but there wasn’t enough evidence to secure a conviction. In a last-ditch effort, my father isolated himself in the forensic lab for three days without sleep, finally discovering the key evidence needed to convict the murderer. But no one anticipated that the killer had a twin brother. The day the murderer was executed was also the day Lainey went missing. The surveillance footage showed a man in a black raincoat dragging Lainey away, and she hadn’t been seen since. It was widely suspected that the murderer’s brother had taken her, but no one had the courage to voice that grim possibility. A year later, my mother resigned, overwhelmed by grief, while my father remained with the police force. Now, bringing up the past made my father visibly uneasy. Jace observed him closely, hesitating before saying, “If it really is him, Sophie could be in serious danger…” My father interrupted him impatiently, “Enough. “I would love to see Sophie dead. I warned her to keep an eye on Lainey and not let her go out, but she still asked Lainey to help her with her acceptance letter! “It was pouring that day, and Lainey was so young. The terror on her face as she was dragged away shattered my heart!” I had heard this story countless times. My parents would call me periodically, lashing out, blaming me for being so cold-hearted to push my sister to her doom while I stayed safe at home. I had defended myself, insisting I wasn’t responsible. That day, I had been in a feverish coma and had no idea Lainey was leaving the house. But they never believed me. To them, I was a heartless monster, a liar. In the midst of their endless accusations and blame, I often wished it had been me who vanished that year. If only I hadn’t fallen ill that day. If only I could have held on and not succumbed to my fever. If only I could have been the one to disappear instead of her. At least then, I wouldn’t be the unforgivable sinner I had become, living a life filled with misery. Jace sighed, wanting to continue his persuasion. But my father had shifted his focus, inspecting the deceased’s teeth. He slightly furrowed his brow while examining my broken front tooth. Then, he impassively instructed his assistant, “The deceased is missing a front tooth. From the fracture, it appears to have been broken quite some time ago. Make sure to include this in the autopsy report and inform the police; it could be a crucial clue in identifying her.” I looked at my father, tears brimming in my eyes. He had likely forgotten that his daughter, the one he loathed the most, was also missing a front tooth—the one he had broken himself.

Lainey had been missing for six years. In my parents’ minds, she was already gone for good. They buried her clothes, bought her a headstone, and marked the anniversary of her disappearance as the day of her death. I was only allowed to go home on that day to visit her grave, to repent, and to apologize. Last year, I fainted on my way to the train station, and a passerby took me to the hospital, making me miss my train home. Three days later, I returned home. My furious father yanked my hair and dragged me to Lainey’s grave. He held my head and slammed it against the tombstone. I was knocked dizzy, but his anger didn’t fade. He slapped me repeatedly until the corners of my mouth split, and one of my front teeth was knocked out. But now, he seemed to have forgotten all that. Maybe he never cared at all. In his eyes, no matter the injury I sustained—even if I died—I deserved it. Tears streamed down my face. Dad, I was really dead. I wondered if this was the atonement you’d hoped for. My father was engrossed in examining the body when his phone rang. He impatiently took off his gloves and answered it. “Sophie hasn’t come back yet. She just doesn’t want to repent to Lainey!” my mother snapped. I managed a bitter smile. Did they really think I didn’t want to come back? No. I was dead, killed by a gangster. My father scoffed. “She’d be better off never coming back. It’d be best if she just died. I can’t stand the sight of her!” I listened to their insults, my heart breaking all over again. I had reached out for help that day, but they didn’t care. Maybe my death was a relief for them. In fact, even if I hadn’t been killed, my time was limited. A year ago, when I fainted, they diagnosed me with a brain tumor. I told my parents, but they dismissed me, thinking I was just seeking sympathy. “Sophie, if you want to die, go ahead. Don’t expect us to feel sorry for you.” I didn’t want to die. They were getting older and needed someone to care for them. But now, watching the disgust in their eyes as they spoke about me, I felt a strange sense of relief that I had died this way. They had always hoped I would vanish, and I believed they felt happy when they discovered I had died so tragically. After hanging up, my father turned his attention back to my body. His eyes started to redden as he took in the sight. He said, his voice trembling, “The deceased had knife wounds—eight stabs, and they all missed the vital organs. “The cause of death was excessive bleeding. The murderer is a true monster. He let a girl bleed to death. How agonizing that must have been!” I felt an even deeper bitterness. It was indeed painful. I had writhed in agony, but all I could do was cry helplessly. But my crying only seemed to annoy the murderer. He grinned as he gouged out my eyes. My father’s hands shook as he held the scalpel. He took a deep breath and instructed his assistants to prepare for a craniotomy. I held onto a sliver of hope. When he saw the tumor in my brain, would he think of me? Just then, the door to the forensic lab swung open. A young officer stood there, looking panic-stricken as he addressed my father. My father frowned, clearly annoyed. “What’s the rush? Young people these days are so reckless. “Can’t you see I’m busy? Make it quick!” Summoning the courage, the officer said, “Jace, Calvin, the DNA report of the deceased just came in. She… she is Calvin’s daughter!” At the same time, my mother’s eager and surprised voice cracked from my father’s phone. “Lainey is back. She’s still alive! “The neglect we showed Sophie over the years is enough to atone for her sins. Now that our family is finally reunited, let’s treat her right from now on.”

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Damian Cartez Romanov, the most dangerous mafia leader who wants Isabella Cassandra, a spy sent by his enemy to kill him. Initially, Damian wanted to kill Isabella because she dared to disturb his peace, but when he found out who Isabella really was, Damian erased his intention. Isabella Cassandra is someone who keeps a big secret about the Romanov Family and also a secret about their past relationship. Can Damian maintain his true love for Isabella when she is a spy for the greatest enemy who wants his death?

I died, but my husband thought it was just another excuse to avoid divorcing him. Not only did he openly bring that woman into our home, but he also believed every word she said. He ignored our daughter’s unexplained disappearance as though she’d never existed. Until the day he, a forensic pathologist, performed an autopsy on a disfigured child’s body. And when he realized that corpse was our daughter, his world completely fell apart. I died, and my faint, ghostly form drifted through the air, screaming and sobbing. But my husband, Charles Miller, couldn’t see my despair. He was wearing a surgical mask, and his attention was fixed on the body sprawled before him. Charles was a pathologist. Early this morning, he received an order to examine a body found at a remote dump site. For someone used to seeing death and gore, even he dry-heaved at the sight of the child’s corpse. A flash of sympathy crossed his eyes. The small body was unrecognizable. Her face was smashed into pulp, and her entire form was broken and bruised. Time and weather had already begun their work, leaving the body in a grotesque state of decay. The sight was sickening. After a preliminary examination, Charles brought the body back to his lab. His movements were swift, professional, and detached as he began the autopsy. Hovering above him, I watched. A hollow pain ripped through me like I was dying all over again. If Charles knew he was dissecting our daughter—Emma’s body, would he still be this calm? “The victim is a female, approximately six or seven years old,” Charles said with steady voice as he dictated notes. “Blunt force trauma to the back of the head. Cause of death appears to be cerebral contusions from the impact. “Postmortem mutilation is severe. The face has been obliterated with a blunt object. Extensive skin corrosion makes fingerprint retrieval impossible,” He sighed deeply after finishing, and his gaze lingered on the destroyed little body. “Whoever did this is a monster. What kind of sick bastard would do this to a child?” I listened to his words, but my heart seethed with rage. The monster was the woman you brought into our house. That woman, Amelia Wilson, murdered our daughter, Emma. You were grieving over the work of your beloved mistress. The case was brutal. Public outrage was mounting, and with the heavy rains washing away evidence, the investigation was at a deadlock. Charles and the rest of the team were working overtime. When he finally came home, it was nearly dawn. I followed him inside and froze when I saw Amelia lounging on the sofa like she owned the place. My hatred burned white-hot. This wicked woman murdered my baby girl. “Charles, you’re back so late,” Amelia said, getting up to greet him and help him out of his coat. “A child’s body was found in the woods,” Charles replied, pinching the bridge of his nose. “The killer’s vicious and smart. It’s been a nightmare.” He didn’t notice the flicker of panic in Amelia’s eyes. “That… that poor child. How did she die?” Amelia asked. Her voice was light and casual. Too casual. “Amelia, you shouldn’t ask about these things. It’s too disturbing. Besides, it’s not good for you,” Charles said gently, sliding his arm around her waist. His hand rested on her stomach. “You’re carrying a baby, after all.” I stared at them, and my anger twisted into something dark and bottomless. Emma was gone—murdered by her hands. And here was my husband, comforting the woman carrying someone else’s child. He didn’t even know how cruel the joke was. That night, after Amelia had fallen asleep, Charles slipped out of bed and stepped onto the balcony. I watched as he dialed a number—my number. The phone went straight to voicemail. “Damn it,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair in frustration before heading back inside. I exactly knew what Charles was trying to do. He wanted to get in touch with me so we could finalize the divorce. He was eager to marry Amelia. But he didn’t know. I was already dead. Dead on the very day I was supposed to meet him to sign those papers.

A week ago, Charles and I had a huge fight. He told me he was going to bring Amelia into our home. “Amelia just got divorced and returned to the country. She’s pregnant, alone, and has nowhere to go. Can’t you let her stay here for a while? Olivia, why are you so heartless?” Charles stood in front of me yelling as if I were the unreasonable one. And his face was flushed with anger, I clenched my fists and shot back with a cold laugh. “Heartless? Would it make me not heartless to let you parade your little affair right under my nose? Charles, don’t think I don’t know what you’re up to.” Charles froze for a moment, and his brows furrowed tightly. “Don’t say things like that. It’ll ruin Amelia’s reputation.” There was his instinctive need to protect Amelia as if she were a fragile treasure. I stared at the man I had loved for nearly a decade. A sharp and twisting ache was in my chest. Amelia had been his childhood sweetheart, his first love that got away. And me? I was just her stand-in. When I found out about their past, Charles and I were already married, and I was six months pregnant with Emma. He’d told me it was over between them, that there was no chance for her to come back. I believed him. I thought time would erase whatever lingering feelings he had for her. But now, with Amelia back in town, it seemed I wasn’t worth him keeping around anymore. “If you bring her here, we’re getting a divorce,” I said firmly. Charles blinked, then let out a cold and angry laugh. “Do you think you can use divorce to threaten me? Fine. I’ve been waiting for this day for a long time.” So that was it. Charles didn’t love me—he never had. His heart had always belonged to Amelia. I bit the inside of my cheek to stop the tears and kept my voice steady. “After the divorce, Emma stays with me.” “Why should she?” Charles snapped. “Do you think you can give Emma a better life than I can?” We didn’t resolve anything. The fight ended with him slamming the door and storming out. He shouted over his shoulder, “Bring your papers tomorrow.” The door slammed shut with a deafening bang. The tears I’d been holding back finally fell. Charles never came home that night. I sat alone in the dark, waiting for dawn. The next morning, Emma was still fast asleep when I left. I left a note, kissed her soft little forehead, and whispered, “Mommy will be back soon to pick you up.” But I never came back. On the way to meet Charles, the taxi driver drugged me. He took me to a desolate and wooded area, where he assaulted me. I woke up halfway through, screaming and fighting with every bit of strength I had. But he grabbed his belt and strangled me to death. When he was done, he buried me in a shallow grave. My body stayed in that cold and dark pit, but my soul lingered—trapped in this world, weighed down by a single and unrelenting thought. I couldn’t leave Emma behind.

My soul drifted back home. Emma had woken up and was quietly eating the breakfast I’d prepared for her. I didn’t know how much time I had left in this form, so I greedily drank in the sight of her, my beautiful and innocent little girl. I tried to burn every detail of her into my memory. Before long, Charles came home. As soon as he walked in, he asked, “Emma, where’s your mom?” Emma held up the note I’d left for her. “Mommy said she had something to do and would be back soon.” Charles took the note, read it with a deep frown, and crumpled it into a ball. He pulled out his phone and dialed my number. But by then, my phone was already switched off—taken by the monster who killed me. No one picked up. “Olivia, do you think this is going to stall the divorce? What, are you planning never to come back?” Charles scoffed bitterly, and his face was twisted with disgust and contempt. Emma flinched at the sound of his anger, shrinking back a little. Charles didn’t notice. He simply turned on his heel and left. And just like that, he brought Amelia home. Emma, though small, was incredibly perceptive. Amelia put on her sweetest and most gentle smile, but Emma stared at her with wary resistance. When Amelia reached out her hand, Emma shrank back, hiding behind Charles. But the man Emma trusted so deeply pulled her forward, shoving her in front of Amelia. “Emma, this is Auntie Amelia. Say hello.” Emma clutched her stuffed animal tightly, her voice timid and small. “Hello, Auntie Amelia.” I watched it all, my heart aching so deeply it felt like I might collapse. What made me even more uneasy was what came next. Charles got a call about a work trip—two days away in a neighboring city. Charles sighed, “Amelia, I’ll have to leave Emma in your care for the next two days.” Amelia agreed without hesitation, and her smile was unwavering. But the moment Charles walked out the door, her entire demeanor changed. Amelia treated Emma like a servant. She didn’t cook anything either—just ordered takeout, and only for herself. By nightfall, Emma hadn’t eaten a single bite. She sat curled up in a corner with tears welling up in her big eyes. Her little tummy growled from hunger. She was too young to understand such deliberate cruelty. Her voice quivered as she whispered, “Amelia, do you know where my mommy is? I miss Mommy.” Amelia let out a cold and mocking laugh. “Your mommy doesn’t want you anymore. You’d better behave, or things will get much worse for you.” Emma froze, and the words cut through her like a blade. Fear and sadness overwhelmed her, and she began to sob. “You’re lying. Mommy would never leave me! She wouldn’t!” “Shut up! You’re so noisy!” Amelia barked, and her patience snapped. When Emma wouldn’t stop crying, Amelia stormed over and grabbed her roughly, trying to clamp a hand over her mouth. Emma panicked, and in her desperation, she bit down on Amelia’s arm. Amelia shrieked in pain, and without thinking, she lashed out. The slap sent Emma stumbling backward. I watched in horror as my little girl fell and her head struck the sharp corner of the table. Her tiny body crumpled to the ground, and blood began to pool beneath her. Amelia stood there, wide-eyed and frozen. I fell to my knees beside Emma, and my screams echoed through the room. I reached for her over and over, but my hands passed uselessly through her, unable to hold her, unable to save her. And then I watched—helpless—as Amelia pulled herself together. She wiped away the blood with gloved hands, changed into my clothes, and stuffed Emma’s tiny body into a suitcase. She drove to an isolated forest on the outskirts of town, dumped Emma’s body, and went about her gruesome work. She gouged out Emma’s eyes, smashed her face with a rock, and poured acid over her small, fragile body to erase all traces. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. How could a pregnant woman commit such unspeakable evil? Amelia was a monster through and through. When she was finished, she burned the gloves and clothes, then sent a message to Charles: [Olivia just came back and took Emma away.] And Charles—fool that he was—believed her without question. He thought I was using our daughter as a pawn to delay the divorce. He never once doubted Amelia.   The sunlight pierced through my soul, snapping me out of my spiraling thoughts. Beside me, Charles and Amelia—the shameless pair—were still tangled up in each other, sound asleep. Suddenly, Charles’ phone rang from the nightstand. It was a call from one of his colleagues at the station. After answering, Charles quickly got up to wash and get ready. The noise roused Amelia. “Charles, are you leaving this early?” Charles replied, “Yeah, I need to follow up on the case from last night.” Amelia’s expression darkened for a moment before she composed herself again. As Charles slipped on his jacket, ready to leave, Amelia suddenly let out a pained gasp, clutching her stomach and dropping into a squat. “What’s wrong, Amelia?” Charles rushed back to her side, helping her onto the couch. Amelia sobbed, “Charles, I think there’s something wrong with the baby. My stomach really hurts. Can you take me to the hospital?” I saw through her act immediately. She was deliberately stalling for time, trying to stop him from going to the crime scene. But Charles, the gullible fool, fell for it in seconds. After only a brief hesitation, he helped her to her feet. “Let’s go now. Be careful.” My numb heart twisted painfully once more as I watched him treat Amelia like a precious treasure. Eight years ago, when my water broke at home, I’d dialed Charles’ number in the midst of agonizing contractions. Panicked and helpless, I’d told Charles what was happening. But he said coldly and dismissively, “Stop making such a big deal out of it. I’m at work. Call an ambulance yourself.” He hung up before I could say another word. Charles didn’t show up at the hospital until after Emma was born, and even then, his attention was solely on the baby. Not one word of concern for me. After that, I convinced myself that his work came first—that his dedication to his job was simply who he was. But now I knew the truth. I just wasn’t important enough. I followed them into the car. As they drove toward the hospital, Charles got another call from his colleague. He glanced at Amelia in the passenger seat and said, “My wife isn’t feeling well. I’m taking her to the hospital first. I’ll head over a bit later.” Amelia froze at his words. So did I. Recovering quickly, Amelia smiled coyly. “What did you just call me?” Charles flushed a little. “Once I get in touch with Olivia, I’ll divorce her immediately. So, Amelia, will you marry me?” “But I’m carrying my ex-husband’s child, Charles. I don’t deserve you.” “I don’t care,” Charles blurted, eager to reassure her. “I know that man tricked you. I swear I’ll treat this baby as my own.” Amelia looked up at him, and her eyes brimmed with gratitude. “Thank you, Charles.” Charles gazed back at her with a deep tenderness that made me want to gouge his eyes out. Eyes that couldn’t see good from evil weren’t worth keeping anyway. Just as I’d expected, after the hospital check-up, Amelia was perfectly fine. Pretending to feel guilty, she said softly, “I’m so sorry, Charles. I think I was just too nervous.” Charles smiled and tapped her playfully on the cheek. “Why are you apologizing? Your health always comes first.” After dropping Amelia back home, Charles finally headed to the crime scene. “How’s it looking?” he asked as he pulled on gloves and a mask, stepping under the police tape. “Not much to go on,” his colleague replied. “We only found part of a shoe print. The killer’s careful—feels like they’ve done this before.” Charles frowned slightly and started combing the area, searching for any clue. But there was nothing. On the way back to the station, his colleague turned to him and asked, “Is Olivia all right? I haven’t seen her in a while. I was hoping to snag another home-cooked meal sometime soon.”

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My name was Emilia Clarke. My husband, Logan Palmer’s mother, Diana Palmer, had a car accident and was in the emergency room. Logan was a lawyer. I called him over twenty times before he finally picked up. “What are you doing now? Rebecca has a situation, and I’m helping her. Stop making a fuss,” he snapped. Swallowing my hurt, I told him about the accident and asked him to transfer 100 thousand dollars. Instead of concern, I was met with anger. “Her accident has nothing to do with me. Don’t think you can wring money out of me. I’m busy!” Before I could respond, he hung up, and soon after, I received the devastating news—Diana didn’t make it. Three days later, I sat in the courtroom, my heart heavy as I watched my husband, the lawyer, passionately defend his first love, Rebecca West, who was charged with drunk driving. With his silver tongue, he argued for her innocence, claiming there wasn’t enough evidence to convict her. I felt utterly defeated. Once the trial ended, I approached Logan and demanded a divorce. He panicked. “My mom treated you so well! If you leave, she’ll be heartbroken!” I couldn’t help but laugh bitterly as I tossed the hospital bill and death certificate at him. I mused, “What a fool. He doesn’t even realize he’s lost his mother.” ***** When I received a call from the hospital, I was in shock. Just hours after Diana had come to my house to drop off Logan’s favorite food, she had been in a fatal accident. I rushed to the hospital, frantically calling Logan along the way. He was a busy lawyer, so it wasn’t unusual for him to ignore my calls, but this time was different. His mother was fighting for her life! After another failed attempt to reach him, I stormed into the emergency room, breathless, as I asked the nurse, “How is she?” The nurse sighed, “The patient is still in surgery, but the situation doesn’t look good. Please prepare yourself.” Panic surged through me, and I called Logan again. This time, he finally answered, but his tone was impatient. “Emilia, what’s with all the calls? Do you know how busy I am?” Before I could speak, a soft, frightened voice came through the line. “Logan, please don’t go. I’m really scared.” Logan rushed to reassure her. “It’s okay, I’m here. Those bad people won’t get to you.” He hadn’t spoken to me like that in ages. It felt like a bucket of ice water had been dumped over my head. My throat went dry. “What exactly are you busy with?” He clicked his tongue in annoyance. Even without seeing his face, I could sense his irritation. “Rebecca has a problem; someone’s trying to scam her. She was alone and scared, so she asked me for help. Can you please stop making a scene?” Again, it was Rebecca. In the month since her return, I had lost count of how many times I’d heard her name from Logan. Whether it was a plumbing issue at her house or her being followed by someone, he was always rushing to her aid. In Logan’s eyes, Rebecca was this delicate flower who never wanted to burden anyone. But to me, she seemed like a giant toddler, constantly invading my life. Almost all of Logan’s free time was spent on her. This was a recurring argument between us, one I had grown tired of. From the very beginning, Logan had promised me he wouldn’t be in contact with Rebecca, but as time went on, his patience wore thin. During our last argument, he had even said, “She’s in the past; stop overthinking everything. “If Rebecca and I had anything going on, would I even be marrying you?” The bitterness stung in my heart as I thought about his words. Now, as I prepared to tell him about Diana’s situation, I suddenly heard a dial tone. Logan had hung up on me! I quickly redialed, desperation creeping in with every unanswered ring. My heart sank with each failure to reach him. After what felt like an eternity of trying, the call finally connected. I rushed to spill the news, terrified he might hang up again. “Your mom’s in a car accident and still in surgery! You need to get here fast! “And I don’t have enough in my account to cover the bills; can you transfer 100 thousand dollars?” But to my shock, it wasn’t Logan who answered. Instead, I heard Rebecca’s soft, almost fragile voice, and the words that followed sent a wave of rage coursing through me. “Emilia, I know you want Logan to come back right away, but he’s really needed here. “Once everything settles down, I’ll return him to you, okay? “As for the money… I’d advise against trying to deceive Logan. Just the other day, I heard your mom asking you for 100 thousand dollars to help your brother buy a house.” Logan’s voice erupted in the background, furious and unyielding, “Emilia, you’re unbelievable! Your brother is just a parasite! “Your mom’s accident has nothing to do with me. Even if she dies, don’t think you can squeeze money out of me to support your family. Just leave me alone!”

The call was abruptly disconnected again. I couldn’t believe Logan would take Rebecca’s words at face value, mistaking his mother’s accident for my mother’s and that accident for something I’d concocted to get money for my brother’s house. Clutching a thick stack of hospital bills, I looked at the nurse waiting by the door, my frustration boiling over. But when I tried to call him again, I found I had been blocked. Panic set in; I felt like a chicken with its head cut off, trying every possible way to reach him, but nothing worked. Logan claimed to be busy, yet he didn’t seem to mind wasting time when he blocked me. His mother was in the emergency room! And he believed Rebecca, who had no proof of anything! I bit my tongue, fighting the urge to break down in front of everyone in the hospital. Now wasn’t the time to confront Logan. Nothing mattered more than Diana’s life. I reached out to a few friends, piecing together enough to borrow the money I needed, and rushed downstairs to settle the bills. When I returned to the waiting area outside the operating room, my back was soaked with sweat. Clenching my fists, I stared at the glowing red light above the door, praying fervently that Diana would pull through. Diana had always treated me like her daughter, especially knowing my family favored my brother over me. Even after her divorce from Logan’s father, she raised him on her own without being overly possessive. Diana respected our privacy, living in her own place and visiting us every weekend, always bringing us delicious homemade meals. This time, she had come over because Logan mentioned he loved her cooking during our last call, and she had remembered. Diana had just delivered her dishes, and on her way back, tragedy struck. It was infuriating to think that our home was so close, just a quick turn away. I heard from a kind soul who had driven Diana to the hospital that the other driver was likely drunk and speeding, which sent Diana flying from her vehicle, blood everywhere. As I recalled the nurse’s earlier comments, an unsettling feeling gripped me. When the doctor finally emerged from the operating room, shaking his head and sighing, my heart dropped. “The surgery was a bit too late. We did everything we could. The patient is still conscious, but… you should go in and talk to her,” he said gently. That last thread of hope snapped, and I felt my legs give way beneath me. I collapsed to the floor, tears streaming down my face, unable to hold back any longer. But I couldn’t afford to waste time. I stumbled back to my feet and made my way into the room. Diana was hooked up to a multitude of tubes and machines. Just hours earlier, she had been smiling at me, promising to bring me her homemade desserts next time. Now, she lay in the hospital bed, her skin a pale shade of blue. When Diana saw me, she managed to force a smile, though it was a struggle. “Emilia, you’re here? Where’s Logan?”

I didn’t know how to respond, my heart heavy with anger at Logan’s lack of trust. All I could manage was a weak smile. “Diana, Logan’s at work; he can’t get away right now.” Diana’s smile faded slightly, and I couldn’t tell if she believed me. She motioned for me to come closer. As I moved in, I noticed her eyes were red-rimmed, too. “Emilia, it’s Logan who’s at fault, and I know it. “Every time I visited your place lately, he was never home. How busy could he really be?” Her words flowed smoothly, and her face seemed to regain a bit of color. My heart tightened as I realized this was likely a fleeting moment of clarity before death, and it made me even sadder. Diana noticed my distress and reached out with her almost cold hand to wipe away my tears. “Once I’m gone, who’s going to keep that little brat Logan in line? “You’re a good girl, and you deserve to be happy. Don’t settle for less—divorce him. “It’s my fault; I never thought he’d turn out just like his father…” A single tear slipped down her cheek, and her hand fell limply to her side. I bit my lip, but the sobs broke free. “Diana!” The machines around her flatlined. I realized I would never again taste her delicious desserts. Later, as I went to Diana’s place to sort through her belongings, I stumbled upon a letter she had written for me. It was tucked away on her desk. I carefully opened it and discovered the truth—Logan’s biological father had cheated, too. Diana had endured a lifetime of heartache, and only when Logan began to mature did her life seem to brighten. She had always despised disloyalty in love, yet here she was, having devoted her life to raising her son, only to see him repeat the same mistakes.   I helped Diana’s relatives organize her funeral. Perhaps it was the countless tears I had shed, but as I looked at her black-and-white photo, I found I could no longer cry. During the service, a relative asked why Logan wasn’t there. This time, I decided not to cover for him. “Logan’s busy dealing with his first love’s trouble,” I replied, the words tasting bitter in my mouth. Diana’s uncle, Vincent Palmer, was furious and immediately called Logan. “Logan, your mother is in trouble. Where the hell are you?” There was a long pause on the other end before Logan finally asked, “Uncle, is Emilia with you?” Vincent shot a glance at me and answered, “Yeah.” “Could you please hand the phone to her?” Logan requested his tone deceptively calm. Vincent hesitated but ultimately passed the phone to me. I furrowed my brow, curious to hear what he had to say. As soon as I said “Hello,” he unleashed his fury. “Emilia, have you no shame? Are you paying my uncle to play along with your little act? “Your mother’s dead, and I can’t believe you’d curse mine after all she did for you! What happened to you? You’re not fit to even touch Rebecca’s shoelaces! “If it weren’t for my mom’s wishes, I’d have divorced you in a heartbeat! Don’t bother calling me again; I’ve got serious things going on with Rebecca!” Before I could respond, he hung up. What Logan didn’t realize was that Vincent had switched on the speakerphone. His rant played out loud for everyone present, and relatives were left in shock at his words. Vincent nearly had a heart attack from the anger, repeatedly cursing Logan as a cold-hearted ingrate. To everyone else, Logan had always been the epitome of a good kid—handsome, smart, successful. But now, as his mother lay dead, he was acting like this. It was utterly heartless! As I listened to my relatives berate Logan, I remained silent, my eyes glued to Diana’s portrait at the front of the room. She wore a gentle smile. It was captured back when Logan and I had just gotten married, and I had taken the photo. I vividly remembered that day, how Diana had clasped our hands and earnestly told us to cherish each other. Diana looked at Logan and warned him that if Logan ever mistreated me, I should tell her, and she would make sure to set him straight. Back then, Logan had retorted, “Mom, why would I ever treat her badly?” Diana had hushed him playfully, saying, “Right now is one thing, but who knows what the future holds?” None of us imagined her words would come back to haunt us. Lost in thought, I barely noticed someone in the crowd suddenly ask, “Hasn’t that reckless driver shown up yet?”   When I heard someone mention the driver responsible for the accident, I couldn’t help but scoff. This was the person who had taken Diana from us, and yet she hadn’t shown her face even once. I found out at the police station that she had been bailed out by a friend. As they left, they just said, “See you in court.” I was furious. When I got back, I contacted a lawyer friend and asked him to help me file a lawsuit. He was surprised and asked why I wasn’t asking Logan for help. After all, Logan was a top-notch lawyer in the field, and if he represented Diana, he could surely put that reckless driver behind bars. I forced a wry smile and didn’t tell him I couldn’t reach Logan, who didn’t even believe Diana was in an accident. I made up some excuses about Logan being busy with another case. But three days later, when we arrived at the courthouse, I was shocked to see Logan standing there with Rebecca. She looked terrified, practically glued to his side, and Logan didn’t push her away; instead, he was comforting her. Perhaps our stares were too obvious because they both looked up and froze when they saw me and my friend in our formal attire. “What are you doing here? This isn’t a place for you to mess around!” Logan frowned, annoyance flashing in his eyes. He must have thought I was there to confront him on purpose. I shot him a cold glance but simply pulled my friend toward the entrance of the courtroom. Seeing me make my way to the door, Logan suddenly rushed over to block my path. “Are you the plaintiff in the case against Rebecca?” Then, it clicked for him. “So, the car accident you mentioned was this one! Emilia, you can drop the lawsuit!” I glared at him, my anger boiling over. “What are you talking about? Drop the lawsuit? Are you out of your mind?” Logan seemed to hit a nerve, and a smug smile spread across his face. He said, “Come on, isn’t your mom just trying to pull a fast one? She’s been in poor health for a while, right? Trying to score a house for your brother? Too bad she picked Rebecca to mess with! “Rebecca has already hired me as her lawyer, so you can forget about your little plan!” In a flash, I slapped him hard, and his head snapped to the side. I could hardly contain the rage that was building inside me. I mused, “How could he believe Rebecca’s side without any investigation? How dare she suggest Diana was faking? Looking at the face of someone I once loved, I felt a wave of disgust wash over me. I roared, “Logan, when did I ever say the person in the accident was my mom? Have you ever visited your mom once during all this time?” He covered his face, a hint of panic creeping into his expression. Rebecca rushed over to shield him. “What’s wrong with you? How can you hit Logan? “Logan, don’t listen to her! She knows how much your mom means to you and is just trying to mess with your head. “Didn’t you tell me your mom usually only goes out on weekends? “That day was a weekday; it couldn’t have been her! After this is done, I’ll go with you to visit her.” Logan’s face softened for a moment, but when he turned to me, his eyes were ice cold. He said, “Emilia, your intentions are downright malicious! If it hadn’t been for Rebecca, I might have fallen for your tricks. “Last time, you and my uncle were in on it together, and now you’re cursing my mom? Just wait and see; your family’s little scheme won’t work!” He spat before walking away. But I barely heard him; my mind flooded with the image of Diana’s lifeless face covered by a white sheet. I couldn’t believe it—the driver who had killed Diana was Rebecca. I lost control and lunged at her, grabbing her by the throat. “Emilia, you’ve lost it!” Logan shouted, grabbing my arm and throwing me to the ground.

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It was on our tenth anniversary that I discovered the secret my son and husband had been holding. I learned that it was no coincidence that there were always spectacles on our anniversaries. They were also caused by my son to keep me from interrupting my husband’s rendezvous with his first love. I stood outside the door and heard my son, who I loved dearly, saying in a clear sound, “Dad, go and see Ms. Grant. As usual, I’ll stay and watch over my mom. “It’s getting tiresome every year, and it’s all my mom’s fault. She’s not any younger anymore. Why does she still want to celebrate your anniversary? “Dad, I want Ms. Grant to be my mom. I’m sure she’s not as melodramatic as my mom.” It was on the same day that I brought up divorce to my husband, who came home late wearing perfume from a strange woman. They all forgot that I am not only a wife but also a mother. But first of all, I am an independent self. The sound in the room gradually died down. I stood outside, feeling as if I had been drenched head to toe with an icy plunge, numbing my bones. But I was still thinking at that moment that perhaps I was too exhausted and heard it wrong. At a moment’s distraction, the cup slipped from my hand, and the hot milk spilled all over the floor. Some even splashed on my skin, burning my hand. Crack. The door was opened from the inside. My son, Ethan Skye, looked at me, and his eyes flashed with a hint of panic. Then, he grumbled, “What are you doing? Eavesdropping on us? “Dad is right. You always sneak up on us as if we were thieves.” At the age of eight, Ethan was quite tall. Not only did he have a fifty percent similarity with Corey Skye’s looks, but he also had a cold temperament just like Corey. Seeing Ethan furrow his eyebrows in disgust, I recalled how Corey used to act the same when he was impatient. However, upon closer reflection, Corey had never shown any patience with me. I just never noticed it myself. Ethan, who was so gentle and thoughtful as a child, had gradually become his father in spirit. I suppressed the waving emotions in my heart and looked at him silently. For a moment, I wanted to get angry and question them. But I found it pointless. I managed to give a smile to Ethan. “I just got here, and I almost fell. But I didn’t hear anything.” “Really?” Ethan glanced at me warily, confirming that there was no trace of anger in my demeanor before he let out a soft huff. “Clean up this mess. Where’s my hot milk?” I crouched down cautiously and picked up the shattered pieces of glass, trying hard to hold back my tears. Suddenly, I felt a sense of powerlessness. “I’ll ask Mary to fix milk for you. I’m a little tired.” Ethan suddenly got enraged and accused me, “I know you’re unhappy because I’m sick today, making you unable to go out on a date with my father. “Can you stop being so petty? “Fixing milk has always been your thing. How can Mary know how hot I want my milk to be?” Ethan had poor digestion, and I always prepared hot milk at 113 degrees Fahrenheit. Not only that, I took care of him in all matters. But he still called me petty. I cleaned the debris and suppressed my tears. Then, I got up and left without looking at him. Following my action was Ethan’s furious slamming of the door. Back in my room, I turned on my computer, searched the divorce agreement templates, and prepared my own divorce agreement. At that very moment, a news update popped up, revealing photographs of the CEO of the Skye Group dining with his childhood sweetheart. Corey must have been engrossed in having fun and didn’t notice the reporters. In the photograph, he and a charming woman smiled at each other. I had never seen him smile so genuinely. That woman was indeed enchanting and delicate, like a porcelain doll. Meanwhile, my weary and expressionless face was reflected in the mirror beside me. Our parents arranged my marriage with Corey, and we didn’t have much choice. I resisted, but it proved futile. Ultimately, our wedding was hastened due to unforeseen circumstances. For that very reason, he missed out on his childhood sweetheart. I still remember the day he said to me that he would move and focus on our lives. I believed his promise. Thus, for ten years after marrying Corey, I dedicated myself as an industrious housewife. I lived day in and day out by taking care of Ethan and doing house chores. Eroded by the trivia of life, I lost my edges and my beauty. As the printer’s hum ceased abruptly, there came the sound of a door opening downstairs. With a hint of anger and irritation in his voice, Corey asked, “Where is Lena?” Coincidentally, the divorce agreement was printed out. I held it and made my way out.

In the living room, Mary and the other servants lowered their heads and remained silent. Opposite them, Corey gently patted Ethan’s back, who had been coughing for what seemed like an eternity, and his face now was flushed with red. Corey’s face, which was as cold as ever, was brimming with frostiness. His brows were furrowed as if a tempest was being brewed. I clenched the divorce papers in my hand and stepped slowly down. “What happened?” Ethan felt much better. He sat on the sofa, giving me an aggrieved and angry stare. Sitting next to Ethan and rubbing his eyebrows, Corey reprimanded me as soon as he saw me, “Do you know that the burning milk choked Ethan? “What’s so hard about boiling milk? Why did you let others handle it instead of yourself? “If I were as casual at work as you, I would have gone bankrupt a long time ago. ” I looked at Corey’s impeccable attire without a single wrinkle to be seen. His inner and outerwear, as well as his tie and socks, were all carefully coordinated in color. I smiled. Corey rarely spoke to me so much. The only exception was when he rebuked me, just like now. In fact, when he and I first got married, we also had some good times together. Corey had a reserved personality that rarely allowed for displays of emotion. He always exuded an unwavering sense of discipline that seemed to be innately devoid of romanticism. But he was very generous with me in material terms. He respected me and cared for me enough. He also treated me with dignity on big occasions. Although our union was void of love, at least we remained respectful to each other. With Ethan being born, our relationship grew even closer. Corey even smiled more. During that time of postpartum recovery, he even put aside his company’s affairs to look after me. I have to admit that I was deeply touched. Later, I just wanted to focus on my family. As I spent more and more time on Corey and Ethan, I began to feel more and more tired. But now it seems that he has never loved me. He just did what a husband should do for his wife. He used to care for me, but now he wanted to discipline me. His affection would only be given to the woman he missed out on when he was young. When I thought this through, the reprimand that I could bear in the past sounded extremely harsh. I even felt the father and son who wore the same expression on the sofa very annoying. I sat on the single couch next to them and looked at them. Seeing me silent, Corey seemed even more enraged. He knocked on the table with a gloomy face and continued in a tone filled with forbearing anger, “It’s just an anniversary. But you took it out on Ethan. “Lena, you are really melodramatic.” My heart felt pain for a moment, but my expression remained unchanged. I put the divorce agreement on the table and pushed it forward. “Have a look. Sign it if there is no problem.” Corey’s lecture came to an abrupt end. He stared at the divorce agreement, first stunned, then angry, and finally relaxed. With a sneer, he crumpled the divorce papers and tossed them into the trash can next to him. “I can understand why you’re unhappy today and doing this. “But I’ll let you think it over. If you still want a divorce tomorrow, I’ll be happy to give you what you want.” “He said he was happy to give me what I wanted.” My eyelids quivered as I thought of his words. So, he had been wanting a divorce for a long time. He was only mad because I brought it up, which made him look bad. Corey turned to leave in anger. Ethan chased after him and said as he walked, “Dad, wait for me. I also think my mom has gone too far. “You should teach her a lesson.”

As they walked away, Mary cautiously approached. “Mrs. Skye, do you want me to help you explain? I’ll just say that you didn’t feel well today. That’s why you didn’t do it yourself. “You can apologize to them. Mr. Skye and Ethan will certainly forgive you.” Feeling ironic, I looked up with a chuckle. “Ethan is eight years old. He isn’t a baby anymore. Why does he need me to look after him? “I made myself pretty clear. I want to divorce Corey. From now on, I don’t care what they do.” After saying that, I went upstairs to pack my things. I only packed some jewelry left by my mom and clothes I bought by myself. Putting my things in one suitcase, I left without looking back once. Corey must have found out about it very soon. On that same evening, he made an uncommonly rare effort to call me three times. I didn’t answer him. I just sent him a screenshot of the news I saw last night, which had yet to be removed online. In an instant, the calling stopped. Five minutes later, the caller became Ethan. He was a kid and thus, we had not intended for him to be exposed to electronic devices too early. But Ethan inherited Corey’s intelligence and self-control. He could control himself when he used the phone. Considering the safety issues, Corey and I tailored a phone for him. I still recalled Ethan immediately saving his number into my contact list upon receiving the phone. He also changed the emergency contact in my phone to him. He took my hand and looked at me with a serious look. “Mom, come to me when you are in danger. I am a man. I can protect you for my dad.” Immersed in my memory, I pressed to answer it. Instantly, Ethan’s angry and sharp sound came over, “Lena, you liar! “You eavesdropped on our conversation. How could you do that? Liar! “I asked Dad to date Ms. Grant. You can be mad at me. Why are you mad at Dad?” “What did you call me?” My heart felt like it had been struck by a big drum, and my body shook with pain. I was disappointed and enraged at Ethan. But he was, after all, the child I gave birth to. He was the last person in this world who was connected with me by blood. Little did I expect that the words spoken by my dear son would hurt me so deeply. Ethan seemed to have never expected that of me. He paused and then snorted. His tone carried a hint of arrogance and confidence. “Ms. Grant is my father’s old friend. They are just ordinary friends. If Ms. Grant were you, she wouldn’t be so jealous. “If you still want me and Dad to forgive you, you should apologize to Ms. Grant and Dad. I will pretend that nothing happened. “In my heart, you are still my mom.” I smiled, but my heart ached as if countless needles were continuously piercing in. My limbs felt like they had been plunged into an icy abyss. Ethan was my son, but he took an outsider’s side. I pinched my palm to stop myself from breaking down. “Ethan,” I spoke in a trembling voice. “I won’t apologize, and I don’t want to be your mom. “I’ve made up my mind to divorce your dad. From now on, we are strangers.” “Well, I don’t want you to be my mom, anyway.” Ethan’s tender voice carried an unyielding determination. “I hope you will honor your promise!” With that, he hung up the phone with a sharp click.

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