Author: Momo Chan

On our anniversary, my husband, Benjamin Arnold, left me in the mountains to watch the sunrise with his memorable crush, Hailey Ortega. A sudden rainstorm hit, and I was stuck up there for hours, waiting for him to return, but he never showed up. Instead, Hailey posted a photo on social media with a caption that read: [Your husband is watching the sunrise with me!] In the picture, her chest was covered in hickeys, and there was a bite mark on her collarbone. The two, holding hands tightly and wearing matching rings, were surrounded by roses in a tent. I replied: [If a rabid dog bites someone, they’ll die.] Hailey ignored my reply and sent me more photos of them together. Seeing those pictures made me feel nauseous. At that moment, I felt like Benjamin was disgusting to the core. Benjamin called me, sounding a bit pitying. “The sunrise here is nice. You can take a taxi to join us. Hailey and I can wait for you.” I couldn’t help but scoff. “The double bed isn’t big enough for three. You two enjoy yourselves.” Benjamin was silent momentarily and said, his tone tinged with anger, “What are you talking about? I promised Hailey I’d watch the sunrise with her. Even though it’s our anniversary, I should keep my word. Besides, Hailey’s just a friend. There’s nothing happening between us. “And if you have an issue, bring it up with me, not her. You’re ruining her reputation by saying that. “You know she’s been struggling with depression. She just wanted to see the sunrise. If I said no, who knows what might happen?” With every word, his voice grew quieter. He was an excellent psychologist, knowing how to take care of his patients, but he had long forgotten that I had my own serious psychological issues. It was because of those issues that I met him, married him, and chose to be a housewife. I hung up, not wanting to hear any more excuses for Hailey. It wasn’t until Benjamin tried calling me multiple times and was informed that the number he dialed was out of service that he realized he had left me on the mountain. It was our anniversary. He had agreed to go camping with me and watch the sunrise together. We had already driven to the mountaintop, and the tent was only half-set up when Hailey called. Just hearing her cry made Benjamin anxious. He kicked me out of the car and drove straight down the mountain, only telling me that Hailey wanted to watch the sunrise too and that he would be back in half an hour at most. But I ended up waiting nearly five hours. Suddenly, a rainstorm hit, blowing away the tent. I finished all our food, but he still never returned. My phone worked sporadically. When I finally had a signal, I wasted precious time listening to Benjamin’s explanation. He was enjoying the sunrise with Hailey while I sat alone on the mountain until dawn. Just as I was starting to lose consciousness, I received a message from Benjamin: [Wait, I’ll be there soon.] I found a booth to wait in and sent him my address. But I waited until the rain stopped, and he still didn’t show up. Eventually, a local found me and called the police, and I was taken to the hospital. I had a high fever and a terrible headache. While resting with an IV drip, I saw Benjamin’s updates: [My little fool even misread the navigation on the way home, and now she wants me to pick her up.] Hailey replied: [You’re my navigation, always finding me when I’m lost.] I couldn’t help but sneer and hit like on his post. But soon after, I refreshed my feed and saw that Benjamin had deleted the post. Hailey commented with a crying emoji under another of his posts. Once I finished the last bag of fluids, I took a taxi home. I ordered takeout, asking the delivery guy to leave it at the door, and then fell asleep on the couch, feeling dizzy. Suddenly, there was a loud rap on the door.

The noise felt like it was pounding in my brain. I opened the door angrily, assuming it was the delivery guy. “Didn’t I tell you to leave it at the door?” To my surprise, I was met with a slap. “Cynthia Watkins! What the hell are you yelling about? Hailey doesn’t owe you anything!” It was Benjamin, followed closely by Hailey, whose eyes were red and who was holding the takeout I had ordered, looking vulnerable. Benjamin snapped, “I told you to wait for me, but you left. Hailey and I looked for you for ages! “Look at her, she’s soaked. This is all your fault.” As he said this, he took the new coat I had bought and draped it over Hailey. She entered naturally, changing into a pair of slippers that belonged to her. Benjamin had bought a pair of light yellow slippers with bunny ears for our home. I thought they were for me, wearing them when I got home. But Benjamin was furious, scolding me and buying Hailey an identical pair. “The bunny ears are so cute! Thanks, Benji,” Hailey said. She did have a lovely smile. But I just felt sick watching it. She walked to the table, naturally placing my takeout down before digging in. “That’s my food!” I shouted. Benjamin took off his coat and looked at me with irritation. “It’s just food. Why are you making a fuss? Hailey got drenched in the rain looking for you. What’s wrong with sharing? “Go grab some cold medicine and make her some vanilla pudding. Hailey’s delicate, and she might catch a cold.” Hailey nodded, smiling, and as she tasted my pudding, she frowned, saying it was too sweet and not as good as her own. Benjamin chimed in, saying I always tried but never succeeded at anything. My head hurt so much. I approached Hailey, snatched the soup I ordered, and dumped it over her head. “This should warm you up,” I sneered. Benjamin shoved me away, and since I was so weak, I fell to the floor. He stepped over my hand, grabbed my bath towel and pajamas, and handed them to Hailey. “Go wash up.” He then closed the bathroom door and turned to face me. I stood up and slapped him before he could say anything. “Who gave you the right to give my things to her? Do you have no shame?” He grabbed my wrist and pressed it against the wall. “I paid for everything in this house. I can give them to whoever I want. You use my money for everything, and now you hit me? “Hailey is far more mature and understanding than you. She put up with your nonsense without complaint, and here you are making a scene. Aren’t you embarrassed?” His grip was so tight it left bruises on my wrist. Finally, Hailey emerged from the bathroom, wearing my pajamas, and whimpered, “Benji, Elyse just called me and invited you and Hailey to the bar.” “Hailey, I know you’re upset. I’ll never ask Benji to spend time with me again, even when I’m feeling lost and helpless.” She held my hand, promising over and over. Elyse? Those rich people never invited me anywhere. Even if I went, they’d find a way to ditch me and wouldn’t think to include me in their plans. I weakly waved my hands. “Just go away! I’m tired.” Benjamin ignored my feeble protests and roughly pulled me up from the bed. “I’ll take you to the hospital. If you’re okay, you can join them. I’m tired of hearing you complain that I never take you out.” “I said no!” I struggled, but he still dragged me to the car. I sat in the back seat. Hailey, in the passenger seat, pointed at a note that read “For Hailey Only” that she had placed there, grinning. “Benji, I was just joking, but you actually put it on.” “It’s just a post, and you’re already so happy?” Benjamin chuckled.

Hailey nodded. “We girls love a bit of formality. Right, Cynthia?” She shot me a provocative look. The fever that had just begun to fade started to flare up again. I gritted my teeth and retorted, “Pigs get tagged before they’re sent to the slaughter. I didn’t think you were one of them.” The car fell silent. Hailey lowered her gaze, not saying a word. After a moment, she pulled out the nail clippers she always carried with her and began tearing up the note, mumbling apologies as she did. Her actions grew increasingly loud, and the noise started to get on my nerves, so I put on my headphones and tuned her out. Benjamin kept glancing at me through the rearview mirror. Surprisingly, he ignored whether Hailey was getting sick and said, “Hailey, Cynthia was in a pretty serious condition. I’m taking her to the hospital first.” “Okay! Cynthia’s health comes first,” Hailey replied. Benjamin drove me to the hospital. My condition had worsened from the constant stress caused by him and Hailey, and I was now suffering from pneumonia. The doctor’s emergency notice changed from a simple infusion to a hospital observation. Hailey was reluctant to stay in the hospital. She kept checking her phone, looking anxious as if someone was constantly messaging her. “If you want to go hang out with your friends, go ahead,” Benjamin said to her. “I’ll stay here with Cynthia.” Hailey shook her head, her face a mask of distress. “Taking care of someone is tiring. I can’t just leave you alone. If Cynthia needs anything, I’ll be right there.” Upon hearing that, Benjamin gently caressed her face. Hailey actually cried out of grievance. It was as if the seriously ill person wasn’t me but her, and the one who was truly hurt wasn’t me but her. Benjamin seemed to feel the same way. He murmured apologies and hugged her to comfort her. I was the only victim in this absurd love triangle. In the end, Benjamin left my side to join Hailey at a party. When the nurse came to reapply my dressing, she called out repeatedly, but I had fallen asleep. It was nearly dawn when I was jolted awake by the strong smell of alcohol. As I opened my eyes slowly, I saw two figures nearly entwined together. Hailey’s fingers were running through Benjamin’s hair, and his neck was covered in her hickeys. They had carried on from my hospital room into the hallway, oblivious to everything until the nurse finally spoke up, telling them to stop. Tristan, the doctor treating me, couldn’t help but chuckle and asked, “Is that your husband?” I nodded. He looked down and smirked, “Wow, you’re really generous. They’ve practically turned your ward into a hotel, and you just let them get on with it.” “So, should I be applauding? I’m way too weak for that,” I replied dryly. He fell silent and glanced around my bedside, which was bare—no food, no drink, and no one to care for me. Then he handed me his number. “Call me if you need anything.” During my hospital stay, Benjamin barely showed up. He only sent me a message telling me to let him know if I felt unwell and that he’d come by as soon as he could. But when I tried to reply, my message wouldn’t go through. He had also blocked me on all social media. Even when I went to pay my hospital bill, I discovered that all my money had been drained from my account, leaving me with just ten dollars. In the end, I had to borrow money from Tristan to cover the hospital bills. Meanwhile, Hailey updated her Instagram, posting about her vacation with Benjamin on a nearby island, staying in luxury hotels. I recognized the bag she was carrying as mine, and the swimsuit she wore was one I had bought but never had the chance to use. Benjamin had even showered her with a truckload of flowers. This was all my money. When I was discharged, I received a message from Hailey: [Don’t come near Benji unless absolutely necessary. He thinks you’re disgusting.] I called the police. “Hello, I’d like to report a theft. Someone has stolen my property and used my bank card.”

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Three years in prison for Jackson. As I stepped out of the jail, he was celebrating his third wedding anniversary with our son, Barry Gellar, and his beloved, Rebecca Perez. On the giant screen, Barry passionately kissed Rebecca, proclaiming, “I’m proud to have such a great mom.” I turned to Jackson, questioning, “If Rebecca’s his mom, then what am I?” Jackson accused me of being jealous, “What’s a little sacrifice for our son?” Suddenly, I felt utterly tired. As I handed him the divorce papers, Jackson asked with a frown, “Is this really about that little thing?” “Yes, it is. I don’t want you or our son anymore!” … On the day I stepped out of prison, I tossed aside everything I had—except for a single photograph of our little family from three years ago. As I finally walked through those heavy doors, the long-awaited sunlight kissed my face, and the air felt fresh and full of life. I stood there, soaking it all in, yet the hours stretched on from morning to evening without a sign of Jackson. When the prison guard finished their shift and took me to the city, she tried to reassure me, “You’ll be okay. Your family might take some time to adjust, but it’ll get better.” I nodded, the city’s neon lights blinding me as I tilted my head skyward to glance at the huge screen across the river. “Three, two, one…” The countdown echoed in my ears as familiar faces filled the screen. There was Jackson standing beside Rebecca, my son Barry grasping Rebecca’s hand tightly. A reporter below shouted, “Ms. Perez, you just won the Ruby Design Awards Gold Medal! What do you have to say?” With composure and grace, Rebecca faced the camera, her smile radiant. “I’m thrilled! And I must thank my wonderful husband and son.” The reporter nodded appreciatively, saying, “Ms. Perez is indeed a fantastic wife and mother! We’d love to hear from your family!” Barry jumped at the chance, grabbing the microphone. “Let me speak! I’m so proud to have such an amazing mom!” The camera shifted to Jackson. “And how about you, sir? Your actions say more than any words could!” A stir of excitement rippled through the crowd as someone jovially shouted, “Hey, isn’t today your three-year anniversary?” “Give her a kiss, give her a kiss!” came the chant. Amidst the cheers, I couldn’t take my eyes off the screen. Jackson seemed hesitant at first, but Rebecca leaned in, clearly unbothered by the attention. Barry gave Jackson a playful push, practically forcing him into Rebecca’s arms for a passionate kiss. I thought, “My brave boy—what a wingman! Deep inside, he must surely be thinking even more highly of his new mom, right?” Three years is neither a short nor a long time—it felt long enough that my longing for them made the days drag on like years but short enough that hopes for the future slipped right through my fingers like grains of sand. I had dreamt countless times of the moment we would embrace again, but the reality was quite different—it was them sharing that joy, not us. After three years behind bars, my family was gone. In this world, I felt like an unwanted ghost. With nowhere left to go, I returned to my grandfather Morton Aniston’s manor. The room was filled with heavy, dusty old furniture, the sun casting a dim light on everything. Morton’s memorial photo stood in a place of honor, looking over me with that ever-stern expression. I crouched before it, overcome with grief. Morton had never approved of Jackson. He once said that his little princess didn’t deserve to suffer alongside another man in tough times. We had fought bitterly about it. I told him that even if he looked down on Jackson, Jackson would soar to great heights. Jackson had that stubborn determination, and he did make something of himself. Then, just as he reached the pinnacle of his career, he was wrongfully accused of contract fraud. I took the fall for him, convinced that as long as Jackson was out there, he’d find a way to clear my name. But after I was incarcerated, he couldn’t find the evidence, and our son kept growing up without either of us. I didn’t know how long I sobbed before sleep eventually claimed me. When I woke again, there they were—Jackson and Barry—standing behind me. Seeing me on the floor, Jackson quickly shed his suit jacket and placed it over my shoulders. His voice held a note of reproach. “We searched all night, and you weren’t home. What are you doing here?” Confused, I lifted my gaze. “Where is my home?” The last time I had seen Jackson was a year ago during a visit. He had stopped coming, saying work was keeping him tied up with too many responsibilities. Barry was staring around at the Aniston manor; his nose crinkled in distaste. “What is this place? It’s filthy!” His gaze landed on me, suspicion in his eyes as he stepped back. “Dad, who is this old lady?”

The last time Jackson brought our son to see me, Barry was just a year old—too young to remember anything. Now, at three, he looked at me as if I were a stranger. Prison didn’t have beauty salons or yoga studios. I managed to keep my body in basic shape, but without proper skincare and with the prison’s enforced hairstyle, I had aged more than I cared to admit. “Barry, say ‘Mommy,’” Jackson urged softly. He shrugged off Jackson’s hand, his face scrunched up in defiance. “She’s not my mom! My mom is Rebecca! The famous designer! This woman doesn’t even wear designer clothes and has no style at all!” Jackson helped me to my feet, but my legs felt numb, and I stumbled right into his arms. Jackson was caught off guard, but his eyes lit up with joy. He stroked my hair, a satisfied smile spreading across his face. “Emilia, prison has certainly softened you.” My body tensed at his words. I mused, “Softened? Is that what he likes gentle women?” But I remembered how Jackson once said he loved my fierce spirit. That fierceness had always been reserved just for him. I never let him stay late at the office—too many late nights would hurt his liver. I forbade him from drinking with clients—it would wreck his stomach. I wouldn’t allow him to revise proposals endlessly—it would strain his eyes. And I definitely wouldn’t let him smoke to fit in with the crowd—it would damage his lungs. Yet, I had forgotten to tell him the one thing I couldn’t stand: him loving someone else because that would break my heart. I pushed Jackson away, quickly lowering my gaze. He misinterpreted my actions as shyness, his smile widening. I was just heartbroken, letting the tears spill silently onto the floor. But I swore this would be the last tear I shed for him. “Shall we go home?” he asked, his voice hopeful. “No, I’ll clean this place up and stay here,” I replied lightly, my meaning crystal clear. Barry, bored and restless, tugged on Jackson’s arm, eager to leave. “Dad, we promised Mom we’d go to the aquarium today to see the sea lions!” I remembered the time when Barry was still in my belly, feeling him kick like a little sea lion. I had told Jackson that once he was born and grown up, we’d take a family trip to the aquarium. Jackson frowned at Barry’s words. “Barry, I’ve told you, this is your mom.” “I don’t want to hear it! She’s not! I only want Rebecca as my mom!” With that, Barry bolted outside. As we rushed after him, the screech of tires echoed, and Barry fell to the ground, crying and clutching his face. “Barry!” In an instant, I dashed toward him, my heart aching at the sight of his scraped knee. But Barry pushed me away with surprising force. I was taken aback—what kind of hatred could a three-year-old muster to shove me like that? His cries grew louder, more desperate. “I want my mom! I want my mom!” Jackson turned away from me, scooping Barry into his arms to comfort him. “Don’t worry. Daddy will take you to find Mommy. We’ll go find Mommy.” At that moment, my mind was a whirlwind. The son I had carried for nine months, the one I had dreamt about day and night, didn’t even recognize me as his mother. It tore at my heart. I mused, “But then again, he is just a child. What does he truly understand? Have I been absent for so long that he has come to see someone else as his mom?” Guilt washed over me. Feeling overwhelmed, I reached out and took Barry from Jackson’s arms. “Sweetheart, don’t cry. Mommy will take you to the hospital, okay? It won’t hurt anymore. I’m sorry, baby.” Barry’s tiny fists pounded against my face, and I felt nothing but numbness. He yanked at my hair with all his strength, shaking my head violently. “I hate you! I hate you! It’s your fault I lost my mommy! Why don’t you just die? Just die!” I looked into Barry’s eyes, and there was no trace of affection—just pure resentment. My feet felt like they were stuck in concrete, frozen in place. Jackson took Barry back, soothing him. “Daddy will take you to find Mommy.” But he wasn’t talking about me. I could no longer hold back my emotions. I grabbed Jackson almost frantically. “If Rebecca is his mom, then what am I?” Jackson’s eyes darkened with anger, tinged with disappointment. “Emilia, what’s the big deal? What’s a little sacrifice for our son?”

Jackson took my hand and gently ushered me into the car, his voice calm but strained, as if he were trying to keep his frustration in check. “Emilia, it’s a lot for him to take in right now. Let’s give it some time, okay?” After a quick check at the hospital revealed Barry was fine, we headed back to their villa. I had some things I needed to collect. At the entrance, Rebecca was anxiously waiting. The moment Barry stepped out of the car, he ran straight to her. She knelt down, concern etched on her face as she examined his injuries, tears welling up in her eyes. “How did this happen? Does it hurt?” Barry wiped away her tears and cupped her face, planting a kiss on her cheek. “I’m okay, Mommy. Don’t cry. I want to sleep with you.” He was being so sweet and affectionate, charming Rebecca as he leaned into her. My heart twisted at the sight. My son was so polite and caring, just as I had always hoped he would be. Rebecca stood up and took the items from Jackson’s hands, effortlessly helping him out of his suit jacket, as if she had done this a thousand times before. “Amanda, fetch the stomach-soothing soup and Barry’s milk,” she said, her tone authoritative, as if she were the head of the household. While they basked in their little family moment, I slipped away to the study, searching for my design sketches. After rummaging through drawers and files, I came up empty. Then it hit me. I quickly booted up the computer and searched for “Rebecca’s designs.” One by one, my sketches appeared on the screen, each one an echo of my creativity. In the three years since I’d been locked away, Rebecca had built her career on my stolen work, becoming a renowned designer in the process. I marched downstairs to confront her. “Rebecca, you stole my sketches, didn’t you?” Her gaze darted away, and she forced a sheepish smile before shifting her eyes to Jackson. I didn’t understand what that meant until he spoke up, “I gave them to Rebecca.” His calm delivery of those words felt like a punch to the gut, and there wasn’t a hint of remorse on his face. “Emilia, those sketches are useless in your hands,” I insisted, my voice rising. “Useless? Why would you say that?” My heart ached at the thought of my hard work being dismissed. Jackson exhaled sharply, reaching out as if to place a comforting hand on my shoulder. I instinctively brushed his hand away. “Don’t touch me!” He knew better than anyone how passionate I was about jewelry design. Each sketch was a piece of my soul, crafted after countless sleepless nights and bursts of inspiration. If it weren’t for the time I spent in prison to cover for him, I’d be at the pinnacle of the design world by now. “Emilia, face the facts. Who’s going to celebrate a criminal as a designer?” he said, his voice laced with a mix of empathy and hard truth. I had traced Jackson’s face with my fingers countless times in prison, yet now, I barely recognized him. “And what about you? Isn’t stealing my designs just as criminal? I want a public apology from you, a joint statement admitting you took my sketches, or I’ll go public myself.” Jackson grasped my hand, trying to pull me back from the brink. “Come on, don’t make this harder than it needs to be. Those sketches don’t have names on them. Anyone can use them. Plus, can you really bear to let people know your son’s mother is a convict? Have you thought about his future? “Tomorrow, I’ll ask Amanda to leave. You can stay home and take care of things. You can always be Barry’s mom at home, right?” “What about outside?” I shot back. Jackson stood there, visibly disappointed, his eyes downcast. “Emilia, does the outside world really matter that much? I’m not the same Jackson anymore. Our son needs a resume he can be proud of.” So Barry’s resume hinged on having a CEO dad and a renowned designer mother. Once one person had been in prison, they expected him to live in the shadows forever. I forced a wry smile. I felt a mix of sorrow and fury well up inside me, leaving me speechless. I mused, “Who is truly fixated on appearances here?” Rebecca walked over to Jackson and spoke softly, “Maybe I should just head out.” “No need for that,” Jackson and I replied simultaneously, the absurdity of our shared response hanging in the air. “I’m leaving,” I declared, turning on my heel. Behind me, Rebecca sounded remorseful. “I’ll talk to Emilia. You two don’t need to fight because of me…” Jackson snapped, “That has nothing to do with you. Does she think she’s still the old Emilia? She can’t even see how far she’s fallen!” After I inserted my SIM card, my phone buzzed with the first incoming call. “Is this Ms. Aniston? Your grandfather has left you an inheritance.”

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My sister, Emma Thompson, and I married two brothers of the Wellington family on the same day. She married the older brother, who was a rescue team member, Oliver Wellington, and I married the younger brother, who was the best doctor in cardiology, Edward Wellington. In the seventh year of our marriage, Emma and I were in a car accident on our way back from the welfare institution with my son, Triton Wellington. Triton had a congenital heart disease. The doctor said there would be a better chance of success if Edward operated Triton. I called him frantically. But when I finally got through, he said to me impatiently, “Chloe sprained her ankle. I’m asking for leave to take care of it for her. Do you really need to check on me all the time?” Before I could say anything, Edward just hung up the phone. The call could no longer be connected then. The eight-month-pregnant Emma, sitting in the back seat, was hit hard while protecting Triton. Blood was constantly flowing from her lower body. Emma immediately called Oliver. But Oliver angrily scolded her, “You’re pregnant. Why aren’t you at home but messing around with Rachel? Is it such a coincidence? Chloe got injured, and you both got into a car accident together? You are liars!” With that, Oliver also hung up the phone angrily. The heavy rain caused mudslides in the mountains and traffic jams. Ambulances could not get in, delaying the best time for our treatment. That day, Emma had heavy bleeding and induced labor, while Triton died on the operating table despite failed rescue efforts. After completing Triton’s cremation procedures, I sent a message to Edward asking him to find time to come back and get a divorce. I hadn’t been able to reach him yesterday, but he called me within a minute of receiving the message. I answered the phone, and Edward yelled at me angrily, “Rachel, did you get kicked in the head? Why do you want a divorce? Our child is already 5 years old. “Do you want to divorce me just because I didn’t go home yesterday? You are too ridiculous! I told you that it rained heavily yesterday, and Chloe sprained her ankle. I went to her house to treat it. Besides, Oliver was there, too. What are you doubting? “You know Chloe has depression. Her family has been kind to me. My parents asked us to take care of her. Why can’t you be more considerate? “You’ve been asking me to spend more time with Triton. Doesn’t divorce hurt Triton psychologically? Don’t use Triton as an excuse ever again. I performed his heart surgery, and he recovered very well. He won’t have a heart attack.” Before I could say anything, Edward hung up the phone. I gripped my cell phone and gritted my teeth tightly in anger! Edward and I had been in love for 3 years and married for 7 years. I had taken good care of Triton until he was 5 years old. But I didn’t expect that I would miss the chance to save Triton because Edward’s childhood friend sprained her ankle! Chloe had posted on Instagram yesterday morning saying she was going out for a picnic. How come she suddenly sprained her ankle at home? Chloe’s tricks were endless, but Edward always dropped everything to find her. I had suddenly developed acute gastroenteritis in the late-night last month, and Edward clearly promised to take me to the hospital. But just as we got in the car, Edward received a message from Chloe saying that she was drunk and asked him to pick her up. Edward kicked me out of the car without saying a word. Before I could say anything, he just drove away. Thinking about how miserable I looked yesterday, sitting on the ground outside the emergency room with my injured legs, I was furious. Yesterday was the day of my routine trip to the rural welfare institution. Triton had insisted on going with me early in the morning. I couldn’t persuade him. But he would be bored if he stayed alone in the back seat for too long, so Emma agreed to go with us. A sudden rainstorm in Reviton in the afternoon affected my vision. When the truck came flying over, I held the steering wheel tightly but still couldn’t escape the fate of being hit. Emma tried her best to protect Triton, but she suffered abdominal pain and bleeding due to the violent collision. Triton covered his chest, his face pale and weak as he shouted to me, “Mom, it hurts.” My legs were stuck, and I couldn’t move. I could only stretch out my hands and keep calling Triton’s name. “Triton, don’t be afraid. I’m here.” Triton had a congenital heart disease, and Edward was the top surgeon in the cardiology department of Reviton Central Hospital. I called him frantically, but he hung up many times and sent me a message: [I’m on a medical trip and very busy.] I looked at Triton, who was about to faint in the back seat and mustered up the courage to continue calling him. After finally getting through, I quickly said, “Honey, Emma, Triton, and I were in a car accident on the way home from the welfare institution. Can you come and save us? Triton is almost unconscious…” I endured the pain in my legs and shouted at the phone as loud as I could. But the person on the other end of the line was stunned for a few seconds without replying. Then, he said to me impatiently, “Chloe sprained her ankle, and it’s raining heavily outside. I asked for leave to treat it for her. Do you really need to check on me all the time? “It is the doctor’s duty to save the dying and the wounded. Now is working time. Please don’t disturb me!” When Edward was speaking, I could hear Chloe hissing beside him. Before I could say anything, he hung up the phone. Edward was an expert in cardiology. Why would he go out to treat Chloe’s ankle injury? With my soft calls, Triton gradually fell into a coma. The heavy rain caused mudslides in the mountains and traffic jams. The ambulance called us and asked us to wait patiently. Emma, in the back seat, held her stomach and endured the pain. She sent a voice message to curse, “Edward, you are a piece of shit! You are doing shady things under the name of a doctor! You deserve to be hit to death!” Then, Emma immediately called Oliver. But after she said the same thing as me, Oliver angrily said, “You’re pregnant. Why aren’t you at home but messing around with Rachel? Is it such a coincidence? Chloe got injured, and you both got into a car accident together? You are liars! Go home and rest as soon as possible! “Also, I’m with Edward. Please be more polite to him next time!” With that, Oliver also hung up the phone angrily. Oliver was the captain of the rescue team. Emma instinctively wanted him to teach her some knowledge on how to save herself. But she was unable to contact him until the ambulance arrived.

I sat by the bed, waiting for Emma to wake up from the anesthesia. Looking at her pale lips, I felt self-blame. After Emma woke up, she looked at my arm with blue spots from the blood transfusion. Her eyes turned red, and she started crying. I told her that Triton had passed away after failed rescue efforts. Emma touched her flat belly and cried until her body shook. I hugged her tightly and said, “I’m sorry, Emma. I shouldn’t have asked you to go with me.” Emma had finally had her first child after seven years of marriage. In order to have a child, Emma had sought out many famous doctors to treat her body. She was even hospitalized for three months in the early stages of her pregnancy due to severe vomiting. I felt sorry for her, and she felt sorry for me, too. Emma shook her head and said to me, “It’s my fault. If I hadn’t agreed to go with Triton, it wouldn’t have happened. Triton is still so young…” At this time, Oliver called and asked, “The nanny said you didn’t go home all night. What did I tell you yesterday? Don’t you know what your condition is? “Tell Rachel to stop using the excuse of being injured to trick Edward into going home. Chloe had a depression attack yesterday, and Edward and I took care of her all night. We will be back soon. Go home, and make me some fruit. I’m so tired. “Don’t get involved in Rachel’s affairs all the time. She’s even clamoring to divorce Edward. It’s really funny. Does she dare to divorce?” Without waiting for Emma to speak, Oliver hung up the phone again. She stared at the group photo taken during her pregnancy on her phone and once again shed tears. I quickly comforted Emma. “You just had surgery. You can’t be too excited. Take a good rest.” Emma hugged my waist tightly and said, “I’m so tired. I want a divorce, too.” For a moment, we hugged each other and cried. Our emotions that had been suppressed for a long time ultimately burst out now. We used to think that it was a perfect thing for sisters to marry two brothers. But now, we were both hurt. During lunch, Chloe posted a photo on Instagram that showed them having dinner at a terrace restaurant and her tightly bandaged ankle. It was with the caption: [Childhood friends are always no match for the newcomers. But I think I should be an exception.] I handed my phone to Emma. She smiled bitterly, “The newcomers are always no match for childhood friends.” I silently gave Chloe a like and commented: [The relationship between you three is really enviable.] When I refreshed the page again, I found that Chloe had blocked me. Then, Edward called me. He asked angrily, “Rachel, what’s wrong with you? Your comment scared Chloe so much that she started crying without even eating.” Chloe’s choked voice came from the other end of the phone. “Edward, don’t blame Rachel. It was me who made her misunderstand.” Then, Chloe explained, “Rachel, I’m sorry. They saw that I was hurt and felt sorry for me, so they took me out to eat something delicious. Please don’t misunderstand.” I snorted, “I don’t misunderstand you. You can play for a few more days.” Hearing this, Chloe said to Edward tenderly, “Edward, Rachel seems angry.” With that, Edward replied impatiently, “She is insane. Ignore her.” He then just hung up the phone.

After Chloe blocked me, Emma saw her posts on Twitter. During the past few years, Chloe accumulated more than one hundred thousand followers by posting daily posts. Chloe showed off her injured ankle and a floor full of luxury gifts. One of the bracelets had been bought by Edward at an auction for a large sum of money half a month ago. It was a work by a designer I liked very much. I had always thought Edward bought it for me as an anniversary gift. I contacted my firm’s attorney and asked him to draw up two divorce agreements for us. After getting married, Emma quit her job and became a part-time writer. I pursued my dream and became an advertising planner. Edward had suggested several times that I quit my job and go home. At this point, I suddenly realized how important it was to have my career. The following day, I asked someone to deliver two divorce agreements to Edward and Oliver. Emma and I waited until the evening but never received a call from them. It only took a moment for us to feel heartbroken, as the person who sent the agreements for me had clearly told me that they accepted it themselves. Since they didn’t contact us, I had to contact them as our representative. I had called Edward three times before he got through. Edward scolded me on the other end of the phone, “If you have a brain problem, Rachel, go get treatment. You had a car accident the day before yesterday, and you sent me a divorce agreement today. Are you going to tell me you’re dead next? “Why do you have so many tricks every day? “I’m busy. I have many surgeries to perform every day. I don’t have time to play these childish games of anger and apology with you.” Before he finished speaking, my heart sank to the bottom of the ice. He was a doctor at the Reviton Central Hospital. If he trusted me once, he would check the file and know whether the car accident was true or not. Just as I was about to talk about signing, I heard Chloe’s sweet voice. “Edward, it’s my turn. I need to change the dressing on my foot.” Edward was a cardiologist. But Chloe actually made an appointment with him just to change the medicine. I sneered, “Change her medicine, and sign the papers. Let’s go through the divorce procedures.” I was just about to hang up when Edward got annoyed and yelled, “I’ll be home early tonight so we can have a good chat. Chloe asked someone to buy Triton his favorite limited edition Lego toys. I’ll bring them to him.” But then, Chloe said unhappily, “Edward, didn’t we agree to eat at that restaurant together after getting off work…” Before Chloe could finish, Edward hung up the phone. That night, I didn’t go home, and Edward didn’t call me. I had stayed with Emma in the hospital for a whole week. When Emma took a nap in the afternoon, I would go to the cemetery to see Triton. Triton liked sunflowers the most, and I bought him a bunch every day. In the evening, Emma felt better. We went downstairs for a walk together. We happened to run into Chloe, walking towards the cardiology department, carrying a lot of bags. We didn’t want to greet her, but Edward bumped into us. Emma was standing behind me. When Edward saw me, he angrily scolded me, “Rachel, how dare you come directly to my workplace to find me?” Chloe glanced at me and quickly said, “You haven’t been home for a week. Rachel is worried about you. Don’t be angry, Edward.” I sneered, “So you haven’t been home for a week.” Hearing my words, Edward became even angrier. “Rachel, I don’t want to go home because you’re insane. You sent the divorce agreement to my department. My colleagues all saw it.” I was so angry that I couldn’t say anything. Emma patted me gently from behind and said, “Edward, you are going too far.” At this time, Oliver said from behind, “What’s going on? You two disappeared for a week, and you finally couldn’t help but come to quarrel today.” Emma and I turned around at the same time. Oliver pointed at Emma with a surprised look and asked, “Where’s the baby?” Just then, Edward looked at me and asked in panic, “Did you really…”

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I, Maggie Queen, met my tragic end at the hands of a criminal on my sixteenth birthday. The scene was horrific; my body was left unrecognizable, dismembered, and scattered across various trash bins. I was severed from my father, Irwin Queen, and my brother, Mark Queen, leaving behind only a restless spirit. Before all this unfolded, the thug had threatened me with a smirk, “Irwin’s daughter? Ha! You’ve got a rough road ahead, little girl. Blame your dad for making waves and stirring up trouble with my crew.” Fear coursed through me; I recognized him as one of Irwin’s enemies. He was out for revenge. “What a pity. You’ve crossed the wrong people.” His words left me confused. “Poor thing, just starting high school, huh?” He waved a half-damaged school ID in front of me, mocking my youth. I looked at them with pleading eyes, silently begging for mercy because of my age. “Hahaha! Look at this girl. The way she’s staring at me, it’s like she’s trying to seduce me…” My mouth was tightly gagged, and all I could do was shake my head violently, a cold wave of terror washing over me. “Here’s the deal: you can call your dad. If he coughs up two million in ransom, we’ll let you go. Otherwise, you’re at our mercy,” said the greasy man with tattoos on his arms, a sinister grin plastered on his face. The kidnappers forced me to call home. I feared these ruthless thugs would hurt Irwin and Mark if I did. I shook my head desperately, refusing to make the call. In response, I received a few hard slaps that left me dizzy, my face swelling, and blood trickling from my mouth. “Damn it, you’re making this hard on yourself! I’ll call!” he growled. “How could he even know Irwin’s number?” My mind was spinning in confusion. Then, he dialed the number himself. After a few rings, the call connected, and my heart raced in my chest. They ripped the tape off my mouth. “Hello, who is this?” Mark’s voice came through the line. It was the home phone. The kidnapper took the phone over. “Irwin? Your daughter’s with us.” Mark’s tone dripped with sarcasm. “Maggie, is this your idea of a prank? Getting someone to kidnap you? “How much do you want? A million? Five million?” “No! Mark, help me!” I cried out, my voice trembling with fear and desperation. “Mark, hurry and light the candles…” I heard Megan Queen’s voice in the background. They must have been celebrating a birthday. My heart felt like it was being pierced by a thousand needles, the pain overwhelming. “Is this some kind of trick? You think I’ll forgive you for this? Mom died trying to save you, and you’re still a piece of work! Even if you die out there, it wouldn’t matter!” He slammed the phone down hard. “You know, your family really hates you. Can you imagine how they’d react if they found out you were really dead? Hahaha!” The kidnapper’s laughter sent chills down my spine. The rest of the ordeal felt like a nightmare. I thought, “I don’t have a mother anymore, and my dad… he probably wouldn’t care either. Mark only acknowledges Megan as his sister. If he knew I was gone, he’d probably be happy since he’s always wanted me to step aside for her. What are my dad and brother doing right now?” Even in death, I couldn’t shake my concern for the only family I had left. I floated back home, my spirit heavy with sorrow.

The bright lights filled the room, casting a warm glow that felt so foreign to me. Ever since I turned ten, I hadn’t experienced the warmth of a loving home. Right now, Irwin and Mark were busy celebrating Megan’s birthday. The birthday cake sparkled in the candlelight, its sweet aroma mingling with the sounds of laughter, creating a beautiful scene. Megan stood in the center, wearing a white dress, her eyes sparkling with joy, looking every bit like a little princess. Irwin and Mark surrounded her, their faces lit up with smiles, radiating happiness that felt like a world away from me. Since I turned eight, I had been cut off from this warmth. Megan was my nominal sister, the apple of Irwin and Mark’s eyes. She was the student my mother, Miranda Queen, had sponsored since the day I was born. We shared the same birthday, both born in the same month and year, but she grew up in a poor mountainous area. Miranda had said that by sponsoring a sister for me, she was building good karma. This sister, who had no blood ties to me, bore a slight resemblance to Miranda, which made Irwin and Mark dote on her. Far more than they ever had on me. I looked like my rough-edged father, Irwin, and often wished I could resemble Miranda instead. Maybe then, Irwin and Mark wouldn’t harbor such resentment toward me. Megan had a knack for brightening people’s spirits, and her likeness to Miranda won her the love and attention of Irwin and Mark. As for me? I only reminded them of the mother and wife they had lost. A bitter taste spread through my heart, and tears streamed down my face uncontrollably. By ten o’clock, they were getting ready for bed, and no one mentioned me at all. Irwin glanced at the clock, his irritation palpable. Megan bit her lip and cautiously said, “Maggie still hasn’t come home. Do you think she’s okay?” Mark ruffled her hair and said reassuringly, “She’s fine. It’s a special day, and Maggie probably just lost track of time. She might feel embarrassed to come back. Don’t worry about her, Megan.” Those words hit me hard. They thought I was just avoiding home out of guilt when, in reality, I was gone forever. Irwin frowned but didn’t say anything more. He had received a call about a body found at the dump, and he left early to investigate. In recent years, Cloudia City had seen a significant drop in violent crime, so it was unusual to encounter a case as gruesome as this. I drifted over to take a look at my own lifeless body. My torso lay there, bruised and withered, unrecognizable—like a grotesque puzzle piece. Once a vibrant teenage girl, I had been reduced to something that would terrify a child. Irwin and the other officers had cordoned off the area with police tape, surrounding the site where my dismembered body had been discarded in various trash bins. Two hours later, they collected what remained of my body, but my head was still missing. Those present gasped in horror at the sight of the dismembered pieces. Even the seasoned detectives couldn’t keep their stomachs in check and had to turn away. Mark, a top forensic expert, was urgently called to the scene. I watched helplessly as he began piecing together my shattered form. My body was covered in bruises and scars, each mark a testament to the violence I had endured. I focused on my left hand, where a small mole sat in the center of my palm. It was a reminder of a childhood accident when I accidentally drove a nail into my hand while playing with Mark. Irwin had given Mark a good thrashing for that, and Mark had felt guilty for a long time afterward. Suddenly, Mark stopped working, his sharp gaze fixed on my palm. My heart raced. “Could he realize it’s me? Does he remember that moment from our childhood?” His colleague noticed Mark’s intense focus and eagerly asked if he had found something. Mark snapped back to reality, hesitating before shaking his head. “Nothing. Just something about it feels familiar.” A wry smile crept onto my face. I should have realized it long ago—since I turned ten, Mark had never looked at me the same way again. Maybe he had forgotten that incident. Without my head, DNA testing would take at least three days, and they still couldn’t confirm my identity. “Preliminary assessment suggests the victim is a female aged between fourteen and sixteen, with a time of death not exceeding twenty-four hours,” Mark stated coolly, analyzing the situation with a furrowed brow. His eyes held a mix of sorrow and regret as he concluded that the victim had been alive during the horrific acts inflicted upon her. It was a brutal case of torture and murder. Mark remained composed and objective, unaware that the girl who had suffered such unimaginable pain was the very sister he had always resented. Meanwhile, Irwin was busy gathering evidence and conducting his own investigation.

This was the worst case the city had seen in a decade, and a heavy atmosphere hung over the entire police department. The higher-ups were taking it very seriously, ordering Captain Irwin to solve the case within a strict deadline. Based on the clues they had gathered, the police quickly reviewed surveillance footage from the area. Before long, they identified a chilling scene: three masked men using a van to abduct a female student. Unfortunately, the footage was grainy, making it impossible to see their faces clearly. The abduction was swift and brutal, leading the officers to conclude it was a targeted kidnapping. Irwin stared at the blurry figures, a look of confusion crossing his face. “I can’t shake the feeling that these guys look familiar.” “Could it be someone you know? Maybe a former inmate back out on the streets?” his colleague Vincent Green pondered aloud, a hint of concern in his voice. Just then, Irwin’s phone rang, interrupting their discussion. It was my teacher, Nancy Dona. “Hello, this is Nancy Dona, Maggie’s teacher. I’m calling because Maggie didn’t show up for school today. Is everything okay?” Her voice was laced with worry. Irwin frowned, irritation creeping into his tone. “I don’t know. I’m busy with work right now. If you’re concerned about her, go talk to her uncle.” Nancy hesitated, wanting to say more, but Irwin abruptly hung up, his patience wearing thin. Vincent looked at him, worry etched on his face. “Maggie’s not the type to just disappear. What if something’s really wrong?” “Wrong? What could possibly happen? She’s at her uncle’s place, safe and sound.” Irwin’s tone was dismissive. He was clearly reluctant to discuss me. Seeing Irwin’s stubbornness, Vincent could only shake his head in resignation. When I was younger, Irwin sometimes brought me to the police station. Vincent and the others always treated me like a little princess, showering me with kindness. But after that incident, I hadn’t set foot in Irwin’s workplace since. They all knew that I spent Miranda’s memorial day at my uncle’s house. Irwin’s deep-seated bias against me wasn’t something that could be easily brushed aside with a few kind words. “Irwin… today marks your wife’s memorial. You should take a moment for yourself,” Vincent said gently, hoping to encourage him to take a break. But the pressure from above was relentless. Vincent said, “I’ll be fine. The more I keep busy, the less I’ll dwell on her,” Irwin replied, his voice weary yet resolute. “Alright then, let’s crack this case as soon as we can. And remember, Maggie’s not responsible for what happened. It’s been a while since Miranda passed, and you’ve distanced yourself from her. “Maggie’s hurting too. You lost a wife, and she lost a mother… “She’s always reticent. I bet she’s hurting inside. “That poor girl, she’s about the same age as the victim. Just think how devastated her family must be. Once this case wraps up, maybe you could show Maggie a little more care. Parents and children shouldn’t be at odds.” Vincent’s words struck a chord deep within me, making my heart ache. He saw things clearly from the outside, while Irwin remained stubbornly blind to the reality of the situation. Irwin stood there, momentarily stunned, as if Vincent’s words had finally pierced through his defenses. “Yeah…” was all Irwin managed to say. Vincent recognized that Irwin was beginning to listen.

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After picking up my daughter Evelina from preschool, she came home in tears, clutching her broken cochlear implant. “Mommy, that boy in my class said this thing is ugly,” she sobbed. “He told me if I dared to wear it again, he’d hurt me.” Fuming with anger, I immediately tagged the boy’s mother in our class group chat. To my surprise, her response was shockingly arrogant: [So what if my son broke it? I even stole your husband—messing with your daughter’s things is nothing. [Sure, you’re the legitimate wife, but you gave birth to a defective child! [My son is the eldest grandson of the Clapham family and the future heir. Who do you think you are?] Even their teacher chimed in, advising me to let it go. [Ms. Isabel Quiller, maybe it’s best to apologize.] Ms. Lytton suggested gently. [After all, you’re both the wives of the Clapham family’s sons, but she gave birth to a healthy boy. Rich families still prioritize sons, don’t they?] I laughed, though there was no humor in it. Immediately, I froze my husband’s credit cards and called him directly. “What did you do? Using my money to fund a mistress while letting her bully me?” I demanded. He cried out in protest. “Honey, you can’t just accuse me of things because I’ve been away for a week!” I was in the study reviewing some documents when my daughter suddenly interrupted me. Before I could say a word, she burst into tears and threw herself into my arms. “Mom, Mommy!” “I don’t want to wear my hearing aid to school anymore!” Hearing her choking on her sobs, my heart tightened. I quickly took her shoulders and asked why. As I spoke, I noticed a clear crack on her hearing aid. Her next words confirmed my suspicions. “Murray Clapham in my class said this thing is ugly. “He… he won’t let me wear it. “He ripped it off my head and threw it on the ground.” Seeing her so upset, I felt a mix of sorrow and anger. Gently, I wiped away her tears. “Sweetie, don’t cry. I will set things straight.” But just as I reached for my phone, her small hand pressed down on mine. Her face was a mixture of fear and desperation as she shook her head. “Please, Mom, don’t. “We can’t afford to cross them! “His family… they’re the richest in town. He’s the son of the richest family.” Her gaze fell, her voice drained. “Never mind, Mom. I’ll just wear a hat to school tomorrow… “So he can’t see it.” I paused, puzzled. The richest? Wasn’t that supposed to be me? After all, I controlled the family’s finances and held the real authority. Since when did I gain a son without knowing? Seeing my daughter so downtrodden ignited a fire in me. “Evelina, don’t worry,” I promised. “Tomorrow, I’ll go to school with you. Let’s see who dares to bully you then.” After calming her down, I picked up my phone and reopened the class group chat, which I hadn’t used in ages. I tagged Murray Clapham’s mother. [Are you aware that your son deliberately broke my daughter’s cochlear implant?] Typically, I was patient, even kind, when handling mistakes made by my employees. But now, seeing my daughter bullied, I found all my composure gone. The once lively group chat went silent as soon as I sent my message. The lack of response from the person in question only fueled my anger. I tagged her again. “Ms. Sara Thomson, are you aware of what your son did?” This time, she responded, and her reply left me speechless. She posted a picture of her son’s hand in the group chat and then tagged me. [Oh, it’s you!] she began. [My Murray came home saying his hand hurt—it’s all red! [Turns out he scratched it pulling that thing off your daughter’s head. [I haven’t even come to you about it, and here you are, acting all offended. Do you even have any shame?] Reading the endless messages from her, I was dumbfounded. I had never seen anyone so brazenly shameless! I typed back without even thinking. [Well, your parenting is certainly a revelation. Truly remarkable. [Seems like there’s no point talking to you here. Let’s discuss this in person at the kindergarten tomorrow!] But as soon as I hit send, her response came back even more brazenly, flaunting her status. [You? Who do you think you are to talk to me? [Do you even know who my son is?] Right then, Daniel Parker’s mom jumped in, quick to support her. [He’s the son of Hughes Clapham, the wealthiest man in the city! [Evelina’s mom, you’d better apologize. Maybe they’ll forgive you if you’re lucky.] Seeing that familiar name, I couldn’t help but laugh. [When we all joined, didn’t we confirm each other’s identities? [Hughes Clapham is my child’s father. Or is there a case of mistaken identity here?] This time, Murray’s mother, sent a voice message. Her shrill voice rang out through my phone. [No mistake at all. We share the same husband! [It’s just that I gave him a son, and you only have a daughter.]

I was so upset that my phone slipped from my hand, clattering onto the table. [What do you mean?] I typed back. Sara sent an emoji first, then boldly revealed her identity. [I’m Hughes’ mistress—but that’s about to change soon enough.] Reading her message made my skin crawl. Daniel’s mother chimed in immediately, ready to flatter her. [Mistress? Who cares about that? Anyone who bears a son is practically a wife!] Jeremy Hayden’s dad joined in. [Only someone as wealthy as Hughes Clapham could pull that off. Impressive!] Then Andrew Tuttle’s mother added her voice, hoping to score points. [Sara, you’ve got real talent—you have a boy, and a strong one at that! [You’re set for life now.] I recognized each word, but somehow, seeing them strung together left me struggling to process the meaning. Immediately after, Sara tagged me directly in the group chat. [Technically, I should show you some respect. [But you only gave Hughes a daughter and a disabled one at that. [Meanwhile, I had a boy. Need I say more about who’s more valuable here? [My son will be the heir of the Clapham family someday. But hey, if you get your daughter on her best behavior, I might just let her stay around in the future.] I couldn’t hold back any longer and typed back furiously. [Are you out of your mind? [Do you really think I wouldn’t know if Hughes had a mistress? [I’m here talking about my daughter—don’t bring up other stuff!] Daniel’s mother immediately jumped in. [Isabel, it’s not too late to admit you were wrong. [You’re all part of the same family, but her son is the firstborn heir, isn’t he?] Andrew’s mom couldn’t resist adding: [Exactly. So you’re the wife. Big deal. All you have is a useless daughter, and you know as well as I do that you are never going to be respected for it.] Their words, heartlessly discussing my daughter’s disability, made my whole body shake with anger. Without a second thought, I grabbed my phone and called my assistant. “Look up everything you can on Daniel Parker and Andrew Tuttle’s families!” The call ended, but new messages were popping up in the group. Sara taunted: [I took your husband. My son damaging your daughter’s hearing device. What can you do about it? [And consider what might happen if you cross me. [Hughes would definitely leave you if I asked him to.] Reading the enthusiastic messages cheering Sara on made me feel sick. I was just about to respond when Ms. Lytton, Evelina’s teacher, called. “Is this Isabel Quiller?” I took a deep breath, trying to control my anger. “Yes, this is she. I just wanted to understand—” She cut me off sharply. “I know this might not entirely be your fault,” she said. “But let’s be clear. Do you even know who you’re dealing with?” “What kind of person are you talking about?” I muttered, feeling speechless. Ms. Lytton clicked her tongue disapprovingly. “Look, I know both you and Sara are wives of the Clapham family’s sons. “But don’t you understand who holds more weight here? “Wealthy families have always favored sons, and let’s face it—your daughter has her own issues. “So, tell me, what makes you think you stand a chance here?” Her words were like a punch to the gut, leaving me nauseated. If I didn’t have Hughes’ every move under careful watch, I might have actually wondered if he’d really betrayed me. When I stayed silent, she took it as her cue to continue her “guidance.” “Honestly, the best thing you could do is let this go. “This is just kids playing around, right? He’s the Clapham heir. If he wants to roughhouse a little, who’s to stop him? “Just think it over carefully.” I finally snapped, my voice rising. “Tomorrow morning, I want a face-to-face meeting with Sara. “Please make it happen.” I hung up, heart pounding, a throbbing pain building in my temples as fury and disbelief washed over me.

Before going to bed, I decided to cut off Hughes’ credit card. Soon after, he called, sounding a bit cautious. “Honey, my card’s not working. I was just about to buy Evelina a gift.” I could barely contain my irritation. “Oh? So you’re using my money to keep another daughter on the side, and you even had a son?” There was a moment of confusion on the other end. “Honey, you’re accusing me of something here. What’s going on?” Still fuming, I filled him in on everything that happened today. He protested his innocence and assured me he’d booked a flight and would be home by tomorrow afternoon. That night, I slept beside my daughter. Her little cheeks were flushed, and her eyes were a bit swollen. The more I thought about Sara’s dismissive attitude, the more I couldn’t sleep. Early the next morning, the nanny came rushing in to tell me, “Evelina won’t put on her cochlear implant.” A pang of sadness struck me as I entered her room, where I found her quietly wiping away tears. When she saw me, she forced a smile. “Mommy!” I gently put the device on her. “Why aren’t you wearing it, sweetheart? Don’t you want to hear Mommy’s voice?” Evelina bit her lip and shook her head. “I’m afraid he’ll stomp on this new one, too.” It was clear that yesterday’s events had left her with an indelible scar. If I didn’t handle this properly, she’d be reminded of yesterday every time she wore her cochlear implant. I managed a small smile and gave her cheek a gentle squeeze. “Don’t worry. Today, Mommy’s going to school with you to make sure you’re okay.” After breakfast, I drove her to the kindergarten. As we entered, I noticed a few parents already gathered at the door. Ms. Lytton’s face darkened when she saw me. She came right over. “Isabel, Sara is here too. “I suggest you show some courtesy and apologize.” I brushed past her, holding my daughter close, and walked into the small crowd. I spotted Sara right away. Despite it being early autumn, she was already wrapped in a fur coat, with flashy gold jewelry hanging around her neck and wrists. She was basking in the attention of the other parents, her face beaming with pride. “Sara, your skin looks so flawless. How do you do it?” “Oh, that bracelet on your wrist must have cost quite a bit!” I walked up to them, cutting into the conversation with a cold tone. “So, you’re Murray’s mother, Sara Thomson? “Where’s your son? Are you planning to explain what he did to my daughter yesterday?” My words brought an instant chill to the atmosphere. The other women, who had been chatting away, turned their attention to me. To keep things professional, I was dressed in a tailored suit, and on my wrist was a simple watch with a Peppa Pig charm that Evelina loved. They looked me over from head to toe and finally gave me a disdainful smile. Sara crossed her arms and shot me a smug glance. “Oh, you actually had the nerve to come here?” I raised an eyebrow. “Your son was in the wrong. Why wouldn’t I come?” She laughed, waving me off dismissively, and then pointed at my daughter. “She’s just a disabled kid. My son bullied her, so what?”

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My name was Felicity Simons. On our fifth wedding anniversary, I told my husband, Roger Dent, that I wanted a gemstone necklace. Roger frowned, irritation flashing in his eyes. “Felicity, when did you become so materialistic?” Even our son, Orion Dent, who had been born after a difficult labor, chimed in with disapproval, “Mom, you should learn from Ms. Miller. “She’s not like you—so obsessed with money. If I could, I’d want Ms. Miller to be my mom.” Looking at the serious expressions on both their faces, I felt a wave of exhaustion wash over me. I sighed, “Then let Lillian be your mom.” As soon as the words left my lips, the room fell into a heavy silence. Roger rubbed his temples, clearly frustrated. “Felicity, don’t say such things to Orion.” But Orion seemed oddly cheerful, his eyes lighting up. “Dad, Mom agreed! When are you going to bring Ms. Miller home?” Hearing Orion’s words only strengthened my resolve to leave. In his eyes, Lillian was the better mom. I closed my eyes for a moment, then turned and walked toward the bedroom. While I was packing my things, Roger walked in. He wrapped his arms around me from behind, the familiar scent of pine enveloping me. I should have found it comforting, but now it felt nauseating, tainted by the scent of another woman, Lillian Miller. His low voice broke the silence. “Felicity, Orion is still young. Why argue with him? I’ll take you to the jewelry store soon.” With that, Roger kissed the back of my neck, his touch both warm and tender, as if we were still in the throes of romance. But I remained aloof, pulling away from his embrace without even looking up. I continued packing. “Let’s get a divorce.” I handed him the divorce papers I had prepared, my tone as flat as if I were discussing the weather. Roger’s brow knitted tighter. “Is this about the necklace?” His voice was laced with barely concealed anger. Thoughts raced through my mind. I mused, “Maybe I should tell him today is our fifth anniversary. Or that he hasn’t given me a gift in ages.” But as the words hovered on my lips, I lost the desire to waste my breath. “Yeah.” Roger fell silent for a moment before responding, “What about Orion? Are you really going to leave him without a mother?” Five years had flown by in the blink of an eye. I could still picture Orion’s wrinkled little face when he was born and the sweet way he called me “Mom” for the first time. But somewhere along the way, he started bringing up Lillian more often. “Ms. Miller is so amazing! She can make clay sculptures. Mom, I wish you could do that too.” Gradually, he stopped admiring me and stopped defending me. He didn’t even seem to need me anymore. “I don’t want either of you. You and him, I’m done.” Even though my heart ached, I managed to sound calm as I spoke. We locked eyes, the silence stretching between us. Roger’s expression hardened. He grabbed my wrist with a grip so tight it felt like he was trying to crush my bones. “Felicity Simons. I never thought you were so vain. After all these years, you’re just going to throw it all away?” He rarely used my full name, and it was clear he was genuinely angry this time. Even at this point, he still thought it was all about that necklace.

“Divorce, huh?” In an instant, Roger released me, grabbed the pen from the desk, and signed the papers with swift precision. Watching him scrawl his name, I felt a wave of relief wash over me, and for the first time, I sensed a flicker of emotion on my face. Just then, Orion peeked his head through the door, sensing that something was off. “Mom, are you and Dad fighting?” he asked, his voice a mix of confusion and concern. I silently pulled out a thick notebook from the desk and crouched down to his level. “When I’m gone, you need to remember what’s in here,” I said, handing it to him. Curious, he flipped it open, revealing a list filled with his allergies to fruits and vegetables. He pouted, quickly shutting the book. “I don’t want to remember all this! “Ms. Miller will take care of me. “Don’t worry, Mom.” In the past, hearing those words would have shattered my heart, but this time, an unexpected sense of relief washed over me. I stood up and casually placed the notebook back on the desk. “Well, that settles it then.” With that, I grabbed my neatly packed suitcase and headed for the door. No one stopped me—not Roger, not Orion. Not a single person came to see me off. As I reached the threshold, I heard Orion’s excited voice behind me. “Finally, that annoying mom is gone! Now I can have Ms. Miller as my mom!” I hesitated for a moment, but my feet moved faster. Seven years with Roger, five of them married. I had lived with him in a cramped, damp basement, and I had eaten day-old leftovers day in and day out. He used to hold me close, tears dampening my shoulder. “Felicity, this life won’t last forever. I promise I’ll give you the best life someday,” Roger had whispered softly. Then, he built his empire from scratch, becoming a respected figure in the business world. Roger grew busier, often staying out late. I never complained, always managing the household and keeping everything in order. The one thing I had resented faded away the moment I gave birth to Orion. Even though it nearly cost me my life, I welcomed the pain. Countless sleepless nights, I had soothed him again and again. But somewhere along the line, Orion began mentioning one name over and over—Ms. Miller. Even Roger, who was usually so indifferent, would light up with a hint of joy when he spoke of her. Only later did I learn that Lillian was a new hire at Roger’s company. At first, I brushed it off, not thinking much of it. Then, one day, when Orion threw a tantrum for candy, I firmly refused, knowing his dental health was poor. He yelled at me, red-faced, “Mom, you’re nothing like Ms. Miller! “You’re a bad mom! “You took Dad away from her and won’t let me have candy!” At that moment, it felt like I had plunged into an ice-cold abyss. The chill seeped through my bones, and my blood rushed to my head. I stood there, stunned, as my own child hurled insults at me. It turned out Lillian had been Roger’s first love, a passionate romance that had ended in a twist of fate. Since then, she had wormed her way into our lives. Roger started smelling like her perfume, and once, I even found a light brown hair on his shoulder. But back then, I kept my mouth shut. It wasn’t until today that I finally decided to file for divorce, cutting ties without hesitation.

I returned to my little rented apartment. It might be small, but it had a warmth that felt like home. I settled into my old routine, writing articles during the day and watering the succulents by the window in my spare time. Roger and Orion were nothing but distant memories now. Life was getting back on track, except for one little detail—Mia Simons. A few days ago, as I was leaving the building, I stumbled upon a dirty little girl huddled in the stairwell. She looked to be about seven or eight, her small frame curled up tightly, not moving an inch. I asked my neighbors about her. They told me she had been kicked out by her stepmother and that her biological parents treated her like a burden. No one was willing to step up and take responsibility for her. Seeing the pity on my neighbors’ faces, I couldn’t just walk away. I dropped a bag of bread in front of her. “Here, eat this,” I said softly, crouching down to meet her gaze. It took her a while, but she finally looked up at me. I felt a wave of relief wash over me when I saw her take a bite of the bread. But instead of leaving, the girl trailed behind me like a lost puppy, clutching the bag to her chest, her eyes wide with fear as if she thought I might push her away. I tried to harden my heart, but compassion won out in the end. After some back and forth, I decided to take her in. Mia was a sweet girl. Whenever I worked, she quietly tidied up the apartment. Whether it was folding blankets or doing laundry, her movements were so practiced that it was like she had done it a thousand times before. I often wondered what a seven-year-old like her had been through. Orion, her age, still needed my help just to pour a glass of water. One day, I lost track of time while writing. Suddenly, I was jolted back to reality when Mia gently opened my door, carrying a cup of warm water. “Mom, drink this,” she said quietly. The soft yellow light illuminated her, making her look unbelievably sweet. It reminded me of Orion. I recalled a time when I was bedridden with a bad cold, feeling utterly drained and my throat raw with pain. Orion, on the other hand, was sprawled on the couch, completely absorbed in his video games, laughing and having a blast. “Orion, could you get me a glass of water?” His little face scrunched up in annoyance, a perfect mirror of Roger’s impatience. “Mom, you’ve got to handle your own stuff. Ms. Miller wouldn’t be this much of a hassle.” Lost in my thoughts, I suddenly felt a soft, warm hand gently caressing my cheek. That was when I realized I was crying. “Mom, don’t cry,” Mia said, straining to lift her arm, her eyes filled with concern. I quickly wiped my tears and pulled her into a tight embrace. From that moment on, we would lean on each other. I never expected trouble to come knocking so soon. Just after I picked Mia up from school one day, I ran into Orion. He was holding Roger’s hand with one hand and Lillian’s with the other, laughing and looking like the picture of happiness. Lillian gazed at Roger with a soft, shy look, while Orion, the little comedian, was doing his best to make her smile. Without me, they seemed like a perfect little family. In the past, this sight would have crushed me, and I might have shouted at Roger in a fit of rage. But thankfully, that wasn’t who I was anymore. As I contemplated playing it cool and walking past them like a stranger, Orion spotted me instantly. His eyes lit up at first but then quickly darkened with anger. He let go of Roger and Lillian’s hands and stormed over to me. “Who said you could hold my mom’s hand?” he demanded, chin raised defiantly, his little face scrunched up in displeasure. Mia, unlike her usual shy self, tightened her grip on my hand and pressed her lips together, her eyes narrowing at Orion with a hint of defiance. “She’s my mom,” Mia asserted firmly, standing her ground in front of Orion. For a brief moment, Orion seemed taken aback. Then he looked up at me with disbelief. “No way! You’re so mean for stealing someone else’s mom!” His little face flushed with anger, and in a fit, he shoved Mia to the ground. I frowned, quickly helping Mia back to her feet, ready to scold Orion for his behavior. But Mia didn’t back down; she pushed Orion back with determination. His tiny frame wobbled for a moment before he tumbled over, crashing to the ground. The impact seemed to sting because he immediately burst into tears, flailing his legs in a dramatic display of protest. “Mom, she’s bullying me!” he cried out, his tears smearing across his cheeks. Honestly, I felt no sympathy for him. I just stood there, arms crossed, watching him throw a tantrum. “Listen, Orion, I’m not your mom anymore. “Your favorite Ms. Miller is right here with you. “You should be telling her all this, not me,” I replied coolly.

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