Author: Momo Chan

One month before the wedding, Lucas gave my wedding venue to his first love, Serena. He even said, “Her grandfather is dying. He wants to see her married before he goes. I’ll marry her first.” Serena also sent me a taunting text: “I’ve already worn your wedding dress. Tonight, on your wedding night, I’ll sleep with your man first too.” The attached photo showed her in my custom wedding dress, lying on our marriage bed. Seven years as his fiancée, and I didn’t even have the right to wear my own dress. I had to give it to someone else. I didn’t cry or make a scene. I calmly posted online: “Wedding canceled. Looking for a new groom. Anyone interested?” A call came in immediately. It was my lifelong rival, Theodore Holt. “Elara, marry me.” Elara’s POV The wedding was just a month away. But inside the VIP room of the wedding planning company, Lucas and I sat in deathly silence. It started with a call from Serena. After that, Lucas made an absurd decision. He wanted to give her the island chapel and the wedding date we’d spent a year preparing. “Serena’s grandfather is dying,” Lucas said. “His last wish is to see her get married. She found a fake fiancé just for the ceremony, and she urgently needs a venue and a date. We can have our wedding anytime. But she can’t wait. His voice was cold. Clinical. Like he was talking about rearranging furniture. Looking at this man I’d loved for seven years, I felt chilled to the bone. “That’s our wedding date. That’s the venue I’ve always dreamed of. Don’t you think it’s ridiculous to give it to another woman?” Lucas frowned, a flash of impatience crossing his eyes. “Elara, since when did you become so heartless? It’s a dying man’s last wish. Have you no compassion?” My eyes burned, but I held back my tears. This wasn’t the first time. Ever since Serena came back, Lucas kept pushing his boundaries further. When Serena was afraid of the dark, he left me with a fever in the middle of the night to stay with her. When Serena was upset, he canceled our anniversary to cheer her up. And now, even our wedding had to be given away. Seeing my silence, Lucas directly took the venue transfer agreement from the table and signed his name. “I have things to do. I need to go to the hospital to see her grandfather. You should calm down on your own first.” With that, he turned and left without a second thought. Watching his retreating figure, I suddenly realized that over seven years, I’d always been watching his back. In college, Lucas was the finance department’s golden boy. I gave it everything I had to become his girlfriend. I thought I was special. Then Serena appeared. And I understood that the place beside him was never meant for me. My phone buzzed. A text from Serena. She sent a photo. Lucas sat by a hospital bed, head down, peeling an apple for her. His face held a tenderness I’d never seen. The caption read: “Thanks for lending me Lucas and the wedding venue, Elara. Grandpa is so happy.” I felt like I’d been plunged into ice water. Lending? Since when could you lend out a fiancé? I suddenly felt tired, that bone-deep exhaustion instantly drowning me. For Lucas, I’d sacrificed too much, given up my dignity, and in the end, I was ruthlessly abandoned right before the wedding. Since he didn’t cherish this relationship, I didn’t want it anymore either. I took a deep breath, pulled out my phone, photographed the canceled wedding plan on the table, and posted it on Instagram, blocking Lucas. “Wedding canceled. Now I want a new groom. Anyone interested?” After posting on Instagram, likes and comments quickly appeared below, most thinking I was joking. I didn’t reply. Just as I was about to lock my screen and leave, a phone call suddenly came in. A name flashed on the screen: Theodore Holt. I froze. Theodore was my childhood enemy. Our family backgrounds were similar, and we’d fought from kindergarten through high school. Later, to chase Lucas, I resolutely stayed in this unfamiliar city and lost contact with Theodore. Our only recent interaction was when I posted my wedding dress fitting photos on Instagram a while ago, and he left a mocking comment below: “Terrible taste. Can you not marry him?” I was so angry at the time that I ignored him. When I answered the phone, before I could speak, a man’s deep, magnetic voice came through without a trace of jest. “Elara, if you want a new groom, how about me?” The air fell into dead silence. I gripped my phone, my fingertips turning white. “Theodore, don’t joke about this kind of thing.” “I’m not joking.” Theodore’s voice carried unprecedented seriousness. “We’ve known each other for so many years. We’re very familiar with each other. Since you want to change, I’m the best choice.” After a long silence, I spoke hoarsely. “Alright. What are your conditions?” “Only one condition. Change my contact name to ‘Husband.’ And whatever other wives can give their husbands, I want too.” My eyes welled up, tears nearly falling. I thought I’d be mocked, but I never expected that at this moment, the one catching all my embarrassment would be my former enemy. “Okay.” “Give me half a month. I’ll handle things here and then come back to New York to find you.” After hanging up, the first thing I did was change Theodore’s contact name to “Husband.” Looking at the contact name on the screen, a mocking smile curved my lips. Lucas, since you could give away even our wedding for Serena, then I’ll get a new groom.

Elara’s POV Over the next few days, Lucas didn’t come home. I calmly contacted relatives and friends, taking back all the invitations I’d sent. My friends were shocked. “Why the sudden cancellation? Haven’t you two always had a good relationship?” My tone was flat. “I’m getting a new groom.” No one took it seriously, after all, everyone knew how shamelessly I loved Lucas. Three days later, Lucas finally came back. His eyes showed exhaustion, his shirt was wrinkled, and seeing me in the living room, he said casually, “Serena’s grandfather passed away last night. She’s emotionally devastated. I need to stay with her these next few days. As for the wedding, let’s talk about it later.” He thought I would make a scene and had already prepared his excuses. However, I just nodded lightly. “Got it.” Lucas froze slightly but didn’t continue asking. He turned and went into the bathroom. After washing up, he changed into clean clothes and said to me, “Serena is very vulnerable right now. I’ll take you to see her, and you can comfort her.” Looking at Lucas, I found it laughable. But I didn’t refuse. I wanted to see what other disgusting things they could do. When we arrived at the Ashford villa, as soon as we entered, I heard a delicate sob. “Lucas…” Wearing a plain white dress, Serena flew like a bird straight into Lucas’s arms. Lucas immediately reached out to catch her steadily, his movements practiced as if he’d done it many times. He coaxed her softly, his eyes showing gentleness and patience I’d never received. “Don’t cry. I’m here with you.” I stood to the side, watching this tender scene with cold eyes. My heart was surprisingly calm. I guess when a heart is truly dead, even jealousy has nowhere to live. Serena finally seemed to notice me. She pulled away from Lucas’s arms and apologized, her eyes red-rimmed. “I’m sorry, Elara. I was so upset. I couldn’t help it. Please don’t blame Lucas.” “It’s fine.” My tone was completely flat. “You two continue.” Lucas frowned, somewhat dissatisfied with my cold attitude. “Elara, can you show some compassion? Serena just lost a relative.” I couldn’t be bothered to respond and turned to sit on a nearby sofa. For the next two hours, Lucas stayed by Serena’s side. I was like a ghost, quietly watching their performance. It wasn’t until Serena’s emotions stabilized that Lucas walked over to me, his tone carrying an unquestionable command. “Elara, there’s one more thing I need to tell you. Hand over the Starlight project at the company to Serena.” I jerked my head up, my eyes finally showing emotion. The Starlight project was a core project I’d pulled countless all-nighters for and attended countless business dinners to secure. Lucas had promised that once the project landed, I would become the company’s design director. “Why?” I asked coldly. “Serena’s in a terrible state right now. She needs a project with a sense of achievement to distract her and rebuild her confidence. You’re capable and will have more opportunities later, but Serena needs this now.” Lucas spoke naturally. I laughed bitterly. “To rebuild her confidence, you’re going to take away my achievements? Lucas, what do you think the company is? What do you think my hard work is?” “Elara, stop making a scene!” Lucas’s face darkened. “It’s just one project. Do you really need to be so petty about it? I’m the company president. I’ve already decided this.” Looking at his cold face, my heart completely died. “Fine.” I stood up, my gaze as calm as stagnant water. “I’ll give her not just the project, but my job too.” Lucas froze. “What do you mean?” “I resign.” I dropped this sentence and walked out of the Ashford house without looking back. Lucas didn’t chase after me. He probably thought I was just angry. However, he didn’t know that this time, I truly didn’t want him anymore.

Elara’s POV The next day, I showed up at the company on time and slapped my resignation letter on Lucas’s office desk. Lucas didn’t even glance at it. He threw the resignation letter directly into the trash, his tone cold and hard. “Elara, there’s a limit to throwing tantrums. I said giving the project to Serena is temporary. Do you have to cause me trouble at a time like this?” I looked at Lucas, my eyes clear and resolute. “Lucas, I’m not throwing a tantrum. I’ve already sent the handover list to HR. I’m leaving today.” With that, I turned back to my desk to pack my things. My colleagues watched me leave with a cardboard box, all showing shocked expressions. After all, everyone knew I was Mr. Gray’s loyal follower, and for Lucas, I would give up even my life. I didn’t explain. Holding the box, I walked out of the building where I’d worked for five years. The sunlight was blinding, but I felt unprecedentedly relaxed. Over the weekend, my friends organized a party. I didn’t want to go, but thinking I’d soon be leaving the city, I decided to say goodbye. I’d just sat down in the private room when the door opened and Lucas walked in with Serena. Serena wore a haute couture dress with a dazzling pink diamond necklace around her neck. The moment I saw that necklace, the room fell silent, everyone’s eyes turning to me. That necklace was what Lucas had bid for at an auction six months ago. At the time, he’d said in front of everyone that it was a wedding gift prepared for me. But now, the necklace was around Serena’s neck. My friend Sophie was furious. She stood up abruptly and demanded, “Lucas, what’s the meaning of this? Wasn’t that necklace the substitute wedding ring you were giving Elara? Why is it around her neck?” Lucas’s expression didn’t change. He said calmly, “Serena liked it, so I lent it to her for a few days. It’s just a necklace. I’ll buy Elara a better one later.” “Lent?” Sophie sneered. “You can even lend out wedding gifts. Lucas, why don’t you just lend her the groom’s position too!” “Sophie, watch your words!” Lucas’s eyes were cold as he instinctively shielded Serena behind him. Serena immediately teared up, pitifully tugging at Lucas’s sleeve. “Lucas, I’m sorry. I didn’t know this was Elara’s wedding gift. I’ll return it to you…” As she spoke, she pretended to unclasp the necklace. “No need.” Lucas held her hand, his gaze coldly sweeping toward me. “Elara isn’t that petty.” I sat in the corner, watching this farce, feeling only nausea in my stomach. I stood up, picked up the wine glass in front of me, and walked over to them. Lucas thought I was going to get angry, his brows furrowing. “Elara, don’t embarrass yourself here.” I laughed lightly, my wrist turning as I splashed all the red wine from the glass onto Serena’s dress. “Ah!” Serena screamed and hid in Lucas’s arms. “Elara, are you crazy!” Lucas was furious. “It’s just a necklace. If it gets dirty, it gets dirty.” I casually threw the empty wine glass on the table, producing a crisp shattering sound. “Lucas, take your trash and get out of my sight.”

Elara’s POV After splashing the wine, I left the private room without looking back under everyone’s shocked gazes. Just as I walked out of the restaurant, a sharp pain suddenly shot through my abdomen. My face instantly turned pale, cold sweat pouring down. I clutched my stomach, the pain so intense I could barely straighten up. It was acute appendicitis. I’d had irregular meals while working on that project, and the symptoms had been building for a while. I just hadn’t expected it to flare up at this moment. With trembling hands, I pulled out my phone and instinctively dialed Lucas’s number. After all, in this city, he was the only one I could rely on. The phone rang for a long time before being answered. An angry voice came through. “Elara, what do you want now? Do you know Serena was so scared by you that she almost had a heart attack!” “Lucas… my stomach hurts so much. Could you… take me to the hospital…” My voice was so weak it was barely audible. The other end fell silent for a moment, then Serena’s weak moan came through. “Lucas, my chest hurts so much…” Lucas’s voice immediately became anxious. “Serena, hang in there. I’ll take you to the hospital right away!” Then he said coldly to me on the phone, “Elara, if you’re going to fake being sick, find a better time. Serena’s in bad shape right now. I don’t have time to play along with your act. Take a cab yourself!” The call was ruthlessly disconnected. I leaned weakly against a lamppost, my phone slipping to the ground. The severe pain made my vision go dark, but what hurt more was that completely dead heart. This was the man I’d loved for seven years. When I was in so much pain I was about to die, he abandoned me for another woman. My vision gradually blurred. Just as I was about to lose consciousness, a black Maybach suddenly stopped in front of me. The car door opened, and a pair of long legs stepped out. “Elara!” A familiar, anxious voice rang in my ears. I forced my eyes open and saw Theodore’s stern face. How could he be here? Before I could figure it out, Theodore had already scooped me up and put me in the car. “To the nearest hospital! Hurry!” Theodore shouted at the driver, then turned to hold me tightly, his voice trembling slightly. “Elara, hang on. I’m taking you to the hospital.” Breathing in the crisp cedar scent on him, my taut nerves finally snapped, and I completely lost consciousness. When I woke up again, I found myself lying in a VIP hospital room. The anesthesia hadn’t completely worn off, and the wound throbbed dully. By the bedside, Theodore was peeling an apple with his head lowered. He wore a well-tailored suit, though his tie was somewhat disheveled, and his eyes showed faint red veins, clearly having gone without sleep all night. Hearing movement, he looked up. Seeing me awake, his cold, hard features instantly softened. “You’re awake? Does it still hurt?” I shook my head, my voice hoarse. “How did you end up here?” “If I hadn’t come, was I supposed to watch you die on the street?” Theodore snorted angrily, cutting the peeled apple into small pieces and bringing them to my mouth. “I wanted to come early and surprise you, but the surprise almost turned into a shock. Elara, your taste is truly terrible. You actually liked that trash for so many years.” I lowered my eyes, not refuting. Yes, he was right. “But it doesn’t matter.” Theodore put down the apple and reached out to gently ruffle my hair, his tone domineering yet gentle. “From now on, your life belongs to me.”

Elara’s POV I stayed in the hospital for three days. Lucas didn’t call even once. Looking at the empty chat interface, my heart remained unmoved. I completed the discharge procedures. Theodore wanted to take me back, but I refused. “Give me one last bit of time. I need to give myself closure.” Theodore looked at me deeply but didn’t force me. “Alright. I’ll wait for you downstairs. When you’re done, I’ll take you home.” I returned alone to the apartment where Lucas and I had lived together for five years. The moment I opened the door, I froze. At the entrance sat a pair of unfamiliar women’s slippers. Several pink coats were thrown on the sofa. The table was covered with various imported snacks and medicine bottles. The air was filled with a sickly sweet perfume scent. Serena’s favorite. The bedroom door opened, and Lucas came out carrying a glass of warm water. Seeing me, he frowned slightly, his tone carrying a hint of reproach. “Where have you been these past few days? You didn’t even send me a message. Are you still throwing a tantrum?” I didn’t answer. My gaze moved past him to look at the master bedroom. Serena, wearing my pajamas, walked out from the master bedroom. Seeing me, she immediately put on a frightened expression. “Elara, you’re back. I’m sorry. The pipes in my apartment burst, and Lucas was afraid I’d be scared alone, so he let me stay here temporarily.” She paused, then added, “I thought the master bedroom bed was most comfortable, so Lucas gave me the master bedroom. Elara, you don’t mind, do you?” I looked at the new pajamas on Serena that I hadn’t even worn yet, then at Lucas’s matter-of-fact expression, and suddenly felt utterly disgusted. “I don’t mind.” My tone was frighteningly calm. “If you two like it, take it all.” Lucas breathed a sigh of relief. He thought I finally understood him. “I’m glad you understand. Serena’s health isn’t good. Sleep in the guest room these next few days and don’t disturb her.” I ignored him and walked straight into the guest room, pulling out my suitcase. I started packing. Clothes, skincare products, documents… anything that belonged to me, I packed into the suitcase piece by piece. Lucas stood in the doorway, watching my actions. “What are you doing? Packing to go where?” “Moving out.” I didn’t look up. “Elara, haven’t you had enough!” Lucas finally lost his temper, slamming his hand on my suitcase. “Serena’s only staying temporarily for a few days. Do you really need to be so petty about it? You didn’t use to be this small-minded!” I stopped, looked up, and stared at him coldly. “Lucas, do you think that no matter how much you trample on my boundaries, I’ll stay by your side like a dog?” Lucas avoided my gaze. He didn’t dare look directly at me. “I didn’t trample on your boundaries. I’m just helping someone in need!” “Is that so?” I laughed lightly, forcefully pulling back my suitcase. “Then take good care of her. I wish you two the best together forever.” I zipped up the suitcase, took off the diamond ring Lucas had given me when he proposed, and casually tossed it on the table. “Lucas, we’re breaking up.”

Elara’s POV The diamond ring landed on the glass table with a crisp sound. Lucas looked at that solitary ring, his pupils contracting sharply as he reached out to grab my wrist. “Elara, make yourself clear! What do you mean, breaking up? We’re getting married soon!” I dodged his touch, my eyes full of disgust. “Getting married? To whom? To the you who gave away the wedding venue to someone else, or to the you who put the substitute wedding ring around someone else’s neck?” “I told you that was temporary!” Lucas gritted his teeth, veins bulging on his forehead. “Why do you have to make a scene at a time like this? Serena has depression. She can’t handle stimulation!” “She can’t handle stress, so I’m the one you humiliate?” My voice was low but firm. “Seven years, Lucas. I cooked for you. I worked for your company. I gave up my own future in New York. I thought I could reach you. But I was wrong. It’s not that you don’t have a heart. You just gave it all to Serena.” “I didn’t!” Lucas refuted in a panic, but his rebuttal seemed so pale and weak. “You know the truth in your heart.” I pulled my suitcase and walked out without any reluctance. Serena stood in the living room. Watching this scene, she cried pitifully. “Elara, don’t go. It’s all my fault. I’ll move out right away…” “Shut up.” I looked at Serena coldly. “Put away that nauseating act. It’s revolting. This house, this man. I find them both dirty. I’m giving them to you.” With that, I pushed open the door and strode out. The door slammed shut with a bang, blocking out Lucas’s stunned face and Serena’s fake crying. Downstairs from the apartment, Theodore leaned against the car door, an unlit cigarette between his fingers. Seeing me come out with my suitcase, he immediately put the cigarette away. He strode forward and naturally took the suitcase from my hand. “All cleaned up?” he asked in a low voice. “Yeah.” I took a deep breath of the outside air, feeling even my breathing become smoother. Theodore looked at my resolute face, a satisfied arc curving his lips. He opened the passenger door and helped me into the seat. “Let’s go, Mrs. Holt. We’re going home.” The car smoothly left that neighborhood, speeding toward the airport. This time, I truly flew out of Lucas’s world and would never look back. Three hours later, the plane landed at New York airport. I pushed my suitcase out of the terminal, looking at this city I’d left seven years ago, my eyes slightly warm. I was finally back, back to the place that truly belonged to me. Theodore walked beside me, his tall, upright figure blocking the surrounding crowd for me. He glanced at me, deep tenderness hidden in his eyes. “Back to your place first, or come with me somewhere?” I paused. “Where?” Theodore didn’t answer. He just smiled mysteriously and pulled me onto the Maybach that had been waiting outside. Half an hour later, the car stopped in front of a solemn, dignified building. Theodore was actually taking me to register our marriage! “Really?” I turned to look at Theodore, my voice trembling slightly. Theodore unbuckled his seatbelt and leaned close to me, his warm breath spraying on my ear. “Elara, I never joke. Since I promised to marry you, I don’t want to wait even one more second.” He looked at me steadily, his eyes showing undisguised aggression and determination. “I’ve prepared all the materials. Now, you have one last chance to back out.” I looked at this man before me. He didn’t have Lucas’s coldness and calculating nature, only full sincerity and determination. I took a deep breath, unbuckled my seatbelt, and pushed open the car door. “Back out, and you’re a coward.” Theodore laughed softly, caught up, and took my hand firmly. When we completed the registration, I was still a little dazed. Had I really just married myself off like that? Theodore looked at the marriage certificate. His eyes were practically smiling. The caption was just one simple sentence: “I’ve finally married the one I love.”

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Once again, Ethan Pierce pinned me down and took what he wanted. When it was over, he stared at my face and whispered another woman’s name. “Yolanda, I love you.” Yolanda Reed was the woman he truly loved. And I had been his secret lover for eight years. I thought eight years by his side would finally make him love me. But the moment Yolanda came back, he got down on one knee and proposed on live television. Ethan even made me, his assistant, present the engagement ring. When I walked onstage holding the box, Yolanda leaned close to my ear and whispered with a soft laugh. “Thanks for warming his bed for eight years. Now it’s time to give him back to his rightful owner.” The crowd erupted in applause. The lights were blinding. And that man who had me pinned beneath him just last night didn’t spare me a single glance as he kissed Yolanda passionately. My heart turned to ash. It was finally time to leave. Sienna POV Ethan Pierce’s control over my body was as absolute as ever. In the dark, castle-like master bedroom, he’d just finished another empty, emotionless round. I barely had time to take the pill from the nightstand before exhaustion shut my eyes. When I woke again, it was already the next morning. A sharp ringtone jolted me awake. I pulled on a robe and walked to the living room, only to find Ethan’s special assistant standing there with a freshly printed legal contract in hand. “Miss Sienna Hayes, Mr. Pierce has instructed you to sign this copyright transfer agreement.” The assistant’s voice was all business, devoid of any warmth. I was a children’s book author. During these eight years by Ethan’s side, I had written countless warm and healing fairy tales under the pen name Starlight. The worlds I created were filled with light, miracles, and unwavering love. But in reality, I was just Ethan’s secret lover who could never see the light of day. I lowered my gaze to the contract. “The Deer Above the Clouds.” This was my latest full-length fairy tale, three years in the making, my heart and soul poured into every word. And in the transferee column, two words were printed clearly. Yolanda Reed. “What is this supposed to mean?” My fingertips went ice-cold instantly. My voice trembled uncontrollably. Ethan emerged from his study wearing an impeccably tailored dark suit, his features cold and sharp, radiating aristocratic hauteur. “Exactly what it says.” He spoke casually, his tone matter-of-fact. “Yolanda’s depression has gotten worse recently. She needs an opportunity to return to the public eye. This fairy tale has a very healing tone. Publishing it under her name will be good for both her condition and her image.” My brain exploded with a roar. I stared in disbelief at this man I had loved for eight years. “Ethan, that’s my life’s work! Every single word, every single story. I stayed up countless nights writing it. Yolanda hasn’t even read it. What gives you the right to hand it over to her?” Yolanda Reed, Ethan’s first love, the woman he cherished most. A year ago, Yolanda’s career abroad hit rock bottom, and she came back carrying the label of “depression.” From that day on, my life became absolute hell. Whenever Yolanda was the slightest bit unhappy, Ethan would trample me underfoot without hesitation. Ethan frowned slightly, as if displeased by my resistance. “Sienna, don’t be unreasonable. You write fairy tales to make money, don’t you? I’ll compensate you ten times the royalties for this book. Yolanda is mentally fragile right now. She needs applause and flowers to rebuild her confidence. You’re just a ghostwriter. What use do you have for fame?” I bit down hard on my lower lip until I tasted blood. Ten times compensation? To me, fairy tales were my only refuge in this broken life. They were my soul. They were the light that kept me alive. But Ethan was about to rip out my soul with casual ease and stitch it onto Yolanda’s false shell. “I don’t want the money.” I looked at him. “I wrote this fairy tale for Oliver. I will never give it to anyone, especially not Yolanda!” Oliver, Oliver Hayes, my younger brother who had autism. Hearing my refusal, Ethan’s gaze turned ice-cold in an instant. He stepped forward, his long fingers gripping my chin with force enough to crush bone. “What makes you think you have the right to negotiate with me?” Ethan looked down at me from above, his voice laced with frost. “Everything you and your brother have had these past years. Who do you think paid for it? Now Yolanda needs it. So you’ll give it to her.” My heart felt like it was being crushed by an invisible hand. I couldn’t breathe from the pain. Eight years. When I was eighteen, my parents died, leaving me alone with my autistic brother with nowhere to turn. Ethan descended like an angel and gave me a home. I thought it was salvation, so I gave him my entire heart, my entire life. I was the quiet, obedient woman by day and the bedmate he could take at will by night. I thought if I was good enough, if I loved him enough, someday I could melt this iceberg. Even in bed, in his most passionate moments, he had kissed my forehead and called my name. Turned out it was all just a dream. A tear fell from my eye onto the back of Ethan’s hand, scalding him into a brief pause. But he quickly released me in disgust. “Sign it.” Ethan took the fountain pen his assistant handed him and threw it on the coffee table. “Don’t make me use other methods. You know Oliver is still at the care facility.” My whole body trembled. He was threatening me with my brother. I closed my eyes as tears slid down my cheeks. Eight years of devotion, and in the end, all I got was a calculated robbery with a price tag. My hand shook as I picked up the pen and signed my name on the agreement. Every stroke felt like carving flesh from my own body.

Sienna POV Three days after signing the agreement, Yolanda made her high-profile comeback with “The Deer Above the Clouds.” News articles flooded every outlet praising Yolanda as a “talented beauty author,” saying she used fairy tales to heal herself and the world. I sat in my dim room, watching Yolanda’s radiant smile on the screen, my heart bleeding with every beat. But I didn’t even have time to grieve. The care facility called. Something had happened to Oliver. I stumbled to the facility in a panic. When I arrived, Oliver was curled in the corner of the art room, trembling violently, clutching broken paintbrush shards in his hands. Torn papers littered the floor. “Oliver!” I rushed over and wrapped my brother tightly in my arms. Oliver was an autistic savant. He couldn’t speak, so all his emotions came through in his art. Every illustration in “The Deer Above the Clouds” had been drawn by Oliver, stroke by painstaking stroke. “The deer… it’s gone…” Oliver forced out a few words, his eyes filled with terror and despair. My heart felt like it was tearing apart. I turned around to see Yolanda standing at the art room door, with Ethan beside her. Yolanda wore a pristine white dress, looking like an innocent angel. She hid behind Ethan, her eyes rimmed with red. “Ethan, I just wanted to visit Oliver and let him know his paintings would be published under my name from now on, so he wouldn’t worry. Who knew he’d suddenly go crazy and almost hurt me…” My brain exploded with rage. It wasn’t just the words. They were stealing Oliver’s artwork too! “Yolanda Reed, do you have no conscience?!” I stood up. “Stealing my book wasn’t enough? You had to come provoke Oliver too? Those paintings are his life!” I lunged forward to push Yolanda away, but Ethan grabbed my wrist and flung me aside violently. I lost my balance and crashed hard onto the floor covered with torn paper. A broken paintbrush sliced open my palm, leaving a long gash that bled profusely. Ethan looked down at me from above, his eyes full of warning. “Sienna, have you lost your mind? Yolanda came here out of kindness to visit him, and your brother not only showed no gratitude but almost injured her hand. She’s a violinist. Don’t you know how important her hands are?” I lay on the floor, staring at my bleeding palm, and laughed. Yolanda’s hands mattered, but my brother’s life didn’t? “Ethan, are you blind?” I pointed at Oliver cowering and trembling in the corner. “She came here to steal Oliver’s paintings! She’s the one who pushed him to this!” “Enough!” Ethan cut me off coldly. “It seems this facility is no longer suitable for Oliver. I’ll arrange to send him to a closed psychiatric rehabilitation center abroad. There, he can receive proper discipline.” I felt like I’d been plunged into ice water. A closed rehabilitation center abroad. In other words, a psychiatric institution. For someone like Oliver, going there was a death sentence. “No! You can’t take Oliver away!” Ignoring my injured hand, I crawled over and clutched Ethan’s legs desperately. “Mr. Pierce, I’m begging you. I gave you the book, I gave you the paintings, let Yolanda take everything, all of it! Just please don’t send Oliver away. He’ll die without me!” I abandoned every shred of dignity, humbling myself to dust. Ethan looked down at me clinging to his legs, his brow furrowing slightly. But then Yolanda gently tugged at his sleeve. “Ethan, I’m so scared. Oliver looked terrifying just now…” Yolanda leaned weakly against his shoulder. Ethan’s gaze hardened once more. He pried my fingers off one by one, his voice utterly flat. “This isn’t up for discussion. Keeping him here will only make him a threat to Yolanda. Tomorrow morning, I’ll have someone pick him up.” With that, he put his arm around Yolanda and left the art room without looking back. I collapsed on the floor, watching their retreating figures, tears streaming down uncontrollably. I had always thought that even though Ethan was cold, he at least had some compassion for me. Now I understood. In Yolanda’s presence, my brother and I didn’t even qualify as human beings. We were just stepping stones on Yolanda’s path to success, ready to be crushed at any moment. I turned and held Oliver, burying my face in my brother’s thin shoulder, crying silently. I had to find a way to save my brother. Even if it cost me my life, I couldn’t let Ethan take Oliver away.

Sienna POV To stop Oliver from being sent abroad, I stood outside Ethan’s villa all night. The autumn night rain cut through me with bone-chilling cold. I was soaked to the skin, but I didn’t care. It wasn’t until the next morning that Ethan’s black sedan finally pulled through the gate. The car window rolled down. Ethan saw me standing in the rain, his brow furrowed deeply. “Get inside.” He threw out those cold words. I followed him into the living room. Rainwater dripped from my hair onto the expensive carpet. Ethan removed his suit jacket and loosened his tie, his sharp gaze fixed on me. “Playing the victim? Sienna, when did you learn these underhanded tactics?” I stood there numbly, my voice so hoarse I could barely speak. “As long as you don’t send Oliver away, I’ll do anything.” Ethan let out a cold laugh and walked up to me, his long fingers hooking open my soaked collar. “Anything?” His tone was mocking. “Besides this body of yours, what else could possibly interest me?” I closed my eyes and didn’t resist as he scooped me up and threw me onto the bedroom’s large bed. What followed was a conquest without foreplay, only punishment. Ethan seemed to be venting some unknown fury, his movements rough and brutal. I gritted my teeth and didn’t cry out once in pain. Only silent tears slid from the corners of my eyes, soaking the pillow. I let him tear into me. When it was over, Ethan looked at me, his brow furrowing slightly. “Oliver can stay for now.” Ethan lit a cigarette, dispensing his mercy in the coldest tone possible. “But you have to move out of your current apartment and live in my villa in the western suburbs. You’re not allowed to leave without my permission.” The western suburb villa was where Ethan kept his “pets” in a gilded cage. “Okay.” I agreed without a moment’s hesitation. As long as I could protect my brother, I would give up even my life, let alone my freedom. For the next two weeks, I was completely confined. Ethan came almost every night. He adorned me with the most expensive jewelry and possessed me with the most extreme control. He was trying to prove that I still belonged completely to him. But during the day, I was forced to do the most humiliating work. Ghostwriting for Yolanda. “The Deer Above the Clouds” was a huge success, and the publisher demanded Yolanda produce a sequel as soon as possible. Yolanda couldn’t write a single word herself, so Ethan forced the task onto me. “Ten thousand words per day. If you don’t finish, Oliver’s medical expenses stop.” Those were Ethan’s exact words. I sat at the computer, staring at the screen filled with fairy tale elements that should have been mine, now bearing someone else’s name. Every keystroke felt like a knife cutting into my heart. I wrote faster and faster, but the stories grew sadder and sadder. The princesses in my stories no longer had knights to protect them. They could only bleed alone in dark forests. One afternoon, the villa door opened. It wasn’t Ethan who entered, but Yolanda. Yolanda looked at me, a triumphant smile playing on her lips. “Sienna, do you think Ethan comes to see you every night because he loves you?” Yolanda walked to the desk and casually flipped through my discarded drafts, her tone contemptuous. “He just doesn’t want to hurt me. My wrist was injured, my body is delicate. He can’t bear to touch me. So he uses you as a tool to vent his frustrations instead.” My fingers froze on the keyboard. “Do you know Ethan bought me a wedding dress yesterday?” Yolanda leaned closer, lowering her voice. “At next month’s book launch, he’s going to propose to me. And you? You’ll always be nothing but a dirty woman who can’t see daylight, who doesn’t even deserve to have her name on her own work.” I stared at the screen, my nails digging deep into my palms. I said nothing. I thought my heart had already died, but hearing the word “propose” still made it convulse with pain. Seeing that I wouldn’t fight back, Yolanda seemed to lose interest. She scoffed and left. The room fell silent again. I looked at the sentence on my screen. “The deer finally died on a night without stars.” I covered my face and let out a desperate, muffled cry.

Sienna POV The launch event was dazzling, packed with media and celebrities. I was supposed to be confined to the western suburb villa, but out of the blue, Ethan had someone deliver a haute couture gown and ordered me to attend. “Yolanda’s signing session needs an assistant to hand her pens and organize manuscripts. You’re most familiar with this material. You’ll go.” Ethan’s reasoning sounded official, but every word cut like a blade. I wore an ill-fitting gray business suit and stood in the shadows where the spotlights couldn’t reach. I watched the center of the stage. Yolanda wore a white haute couture gown, looking every bit the fairy tale princess. She held the trophy that should have been mine, smiling gracefully and beautifully. “This work wouldn’t exist without the most important person in my life.” Yolanda spoke into the microphone, gazing affectionately at Ethan in the front row. “He gave me inspiration, and he pulled me out of the abyss of depression.” Thunderous applause erupted. Ethan walked onstage and took the microphone from the host. His usually stern face now wore an unusually gentle smile. “Yolanda is a genius. She deserves the best of everything this world has to offer.” Ethan looked at Yolanda, his voice deep and pleasant. Then, before countless flashing cameras, he dropped to one knee and produced a dazzling diamond ring. “Yolanda, marry me.” The crowd went wild. Romantic confetti rained down from above. I stood in the corner, coldly watching this scene unfold. My heart had gone numb from pain. Even breathing tasted like blood. Eight years. I had accompanied him through his family’s most difficult power struggles, shielded him from harm in the business world, and even nursed him meticulously for a month when he had a bleeding ulcer. I had naively thought that if I just kept waiting, someday he would turn around and truly see me. But now, he was giving all his glory, favor, and promises to another woman. And I had been personally pushed into the mud by his hands, forced to witness their happiness. “Could the assistant please bring up the books for signing?” The host’s voice suddenly rang out. A spotlight hit me. Every eye in the venue focused on me. I froze in place. Yolanda smiled and beckoned. “Come on over, everyone’s waiting.” Ethan also turned his head, his gaze locking coldly onto me with unquestionable authority. I took a deep breath, picked up the thick stack of new books, and walked toward the stage step by step. The book’s cover bore Yolanda’s name. The illustrations were Oliver’s. The words were mine. This was my brother’s and my flesh and blood, now reduced to props for someone else’s romance. When I reached Yolanda’s side, she suddenly lowered her voice to a volume only we could hear. “Sienna, see? Your life’s work, your man. They’re all mine now. You’re nothing but a complete failure.” My hands trembled violently. The books tumbled from my arms and scattered across the floor with a loud crash. Gasps rippled through the audience. “What kind of work is this? You can’t even do such a simple task!” Ethan shouted harshly. “Hurry up and pick them up! Apologize to Yolanda!” I looked at the books scattered on the floor, at Ethan’s heartless face, and suddenly found it all absurd. I didn’t bend down to pick up the books. Instead, I stood straight and looked directly at Ethan. “Ethan, do you really love her?” My voice wasn’t loud, but in the quiet venue, it rang out clearly. Ethan’s brow furrowed tightly. “What nonsense are you spouting? Security, get her out of here!” “If you don’t love her, why did you steal my life to give to her?” I smiled, the last light in my heart extinguishing completely. “If you do love her, then why do you pin me down every night and call out her name?” The moment those words left my mouth, the entire venue fell deathly silent. Yolanda’s face went deathly pale. Ethan’s eyes churned with a terrifying storm. “Shut her up and drag her out!” Ethan exploded with rage. Several security guards rushed forward, roughly twisting my arms behind my back and dragging me away. I didn’t struggle. I just turned back and looked deeply at Ethan one last time. In my heart, there was no more love, no more hate. Only the dead ashes of what once was. Ethan, I don’t owe you anything anymore.

Sienna POV After the launch event scandal, Ethan’s revenge became absolutely insane. I was completely cut off from the outside world, locked in the western suburb villa like a real prisoner. Every day, aside from being forced to write, I endured Ethan’s furious punishment at night. Ethan used his actions to show me exactly what happened when I defied him. But I didn’t care about any of it anymore. The only thing I still worried about was Oliver. However, the thing I feared most still happened. Late one night, the villa’s landline suddenly rang. The servant watching over me wasn’t there, so I picked up the phone. “Is this the family member of Oliver Hayes? This is the care facility. The patient’s condition is critical. Please come immediately!” The doctor’s voice was extremely urgent. My mind went completely blank. I bolted out of the villa without thinking. Rain poured down. I had no umbrella, no money, didn’t even have my shoes on properly. I ran barefoot through the storm for what felt like forever before finally flagging down a taxi. When I reached the facility, Oliver had already been rushed into the emergency room. “What happened? What’s wrong with Oliver?” I grabbed the nurse’s hand, trembling uncontrollably. The nurse sighed. “This afternoon, a Miss Reed came to visit him. We don’t know what she showed him, but the patient suddenly lost complete emotional control, triggered severe stress-induced heart failure, and… and mutilated both his hands.” I felt like I’d been struck by lightning. Yolanda! It was Yolanda again! I rushed into the hospital room and saw the floor covered with twisted, bloody drawings Oliver had made. Every single one screamed silently. I collapsed in the pool of blood, my heart so broken I couldn’t even cry. I pulled out my phone with shaking hands and dialed Ethan’s number. Once, twice, three times… no answer. Oliver needed to be transferred. He needed the top specialists for consultation. All of this required Ethan’s approval, required the Pierce family’s resources. I had one last option. I called Ethan’s special assistant. “Miss Hayes, Mr. Pierce is currently on a yacht celebrating Miss Reed’s birthday. He’s given strict orders not to be disturbed by anyone.” The assistant’s voice was ice-cold. “Please, just let me speak to him for one second! Oliver is dying. He needs to be transferred to another hospital. Please!” I stood outside the emergency room, desperately pleading into the phone. After a moment of silence, Ethan’s impatient voice finally came through. “Sienna, what game are you playing now?” Hearing his voice, I grasped at that sliver of light. “Ethan, Oliver is dying! Yolanda went to provoke him. He went into heart failure and destroyed his hands! Please help me. Send a helicopter to get him to the best hospital. I’m begging you!” I could hear Yolanda’s sweet laughter in the background, probably cutting cake. Ethan’s voice instantly turned arctic. “Sienna, there’s a limit to how much you can lie. Yolanda has been with me all day. How could she possibly have gone to the facility? Are you so desperate to ruin her birthday that you’d even curse your own brother’s life?” “I’m not lying! Check the surveillance footage! Ethan, this is a human life!” I screamed hoarsely, my throat filled with the taste of blood. “Enough!” Ethan cut me off brutally. “Oliver going crazy is his own problem. Since he destroyed his own hands, he’s just a useless wreck now anyway. I don’t have time to deal with your mess.” The call ended mercilessly. I stared blankly as my phone screen went dark. Useless wreck. My brother was a genius who had been driven to this, step by step, by them! Just then, the emergency room light went out. The doctor emerged, shaking his head. “I’m sorry, Miss Hayes. We did everything we could. The patient… didn’t make it.” I didn’t cry. I slowly stood up and watched as they wheeled out Oliver’s body, covered with a white sheet. I pulled back the sheet and looked at his pale face and his hands, which he had bitten until they were mangled beyond recognition. “Oliver, don’t be afraid. I’m taking you home.” I gently stroked his ice-cold cheek. My heart, in that moment, died completely. Not even ashes remained.

Sienna POV On the luxury yacht Ethan had chartered for Yolanda, lights blazed and elegantly dressed guests mingled. Yolanda wore that starry gown, nestled against Ethan’s side, accepting everyone’s blessings and envious gazes. I shoved the banquet hall doors open with force. The cheerful music cut off abruptly. Every eye turned to me. I wore a thin windbreaker soaked through with rain and mud, barefoot, the soles of my feet covered in bloody cuts. The moment Ethan saw me, his expression darkened sharply. “What are you doing here?” Ethan strode over, trying to block everyone’s view, and hissed quietly in fury. “Didn’t you embarrass yourself enough last time? Get out of here!” I ignored him. I stared hard at Yolanda hiding behind him. “Yolanda Reed, what did you show Oliver this afternoon?” My voice was eerily calm. Yolanda flinched and clutched Ethan’s sleeve tighter. “Ethan, I’m scared… She looks like a lunatic…” “Sienna! I told you, Yolanda was with me all day!” Ethan grabbed my wrist, squeezing hard enough to shatter bone. “Where’s security? Drag her out!” I laughed. I wrenched my hand free from Ethan’s grip and pulled a blood-stained phone from my pocket. It was Oliver’s phone. Inside was a video Yolanda had sent him. In the video, Yolanda threw Oliver’s original artwork into a fire pit one by one, burning them while telling him in the most vicious language: “Your sister has been used up by Ethan. She’ll be thrown out of the Pierce family soon. You idiot, you do nothing but drag her down. These garbage drawings of yours are only good enough to be my stepping stones.” I held the phone screen up to Ethan’s face. “Ethan, look closely. This is the kind, fragile woman you’ve been protecting with your life!” Ethan’s gaze fell on the screen. His face instantly darkened. He turned to look at Yolanda. Yolanda panicked. Tears immediately started falling. “Ethan, it’s not like that! That autistic boy went crazy first and tried to hit me. I just got upset and scared him a little… I really didn’t…” “Scared him?” I advanced step by step. “Do you know that because you ‘scared’ him, he went into heart failure? He’s dead! Yolanda Reed, you killed my brother!” The entire room gasped. Ethan’s body went rigid. He looked at me in disbelief. I pulled a sharp knife from my sleeve and lunged straight at Yolanda. “You’re going to pay for his life!” Yolanda screamed and dodged. In that critical moment, Ethan instinctively stepped in front of Yolanda. With a sickening sound, the blade slashed Ethan’s arm. Blood immediately gushed out. I froze. I stared at the blood on the knife’s edge, then at how Ethan had protected Yolanda without hesitation. Suddenly, it all seemed laughably absurd. “Have you lost your mind?!” Ethan snatched the knife from my hand and shoved me violently to the ground. I crashed hard onto the cold marble floor. My bones made a dull thud. “Oliver is dead because he had bad luck. What does that have to do with Yolanda?” Ethan looked down at me from above, his eyes utterly devoid of warmth. “You actually dared to pull a knife and try to kill someone on my turf because of some autistic kid?” “Bad luck?” I lay on the floor, tilted my head back to look at him, and finally let the tears fall. “Ethan, it wasn’t bad luck. It was meeting you! You enabled Yolanda. You personally cut off his path to survival!” “Send him for cremation. I’ll cover the funeral expenses.” Ethan cut me off impatiently and turned to order the security guards. “Take Sienna back to the western suburb villa. Lock her in the basement. Without my permission, no one is to let her out. When she learns to apologize to Yolanda, then she can eat again!” I didn’t struggle. I let the security guards drag me away. I watched Ethan anxiously check whether Yolanda had been hurt, watched him cradle that murderer in his arms protectively.I closed my eyes and told myself: Ethan, this is the last time I’ll cry for you. From now on, we’ll never see each other again.

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On my way home, I picked up my last rideshare order. A man with a six-year-old child was on the phone with his wife. “Honey, I’m in the car now. I’ll drop off our son and come right back to spend our anniversary with you.” His wife’s voice came through. “Don’t we have a car at home? Stop taking rideshares. Those cars are filthy.” My grip on the steering wheel suddenly tightened. Not because of the insult in her words, but because the woman’s voice sounded exactly like my wife, Serena Moore. After the man hung up, he said apologetically, “Sorry about that. My wife is a bit of a germaphobe.” I nodded and probed cautiously, “What does your wife do for work?” The child answered proudly, “My mom’s a professor at Harvard! Her name is Serena Moore! She’s amazing!” The man stroked the boy’s hair affectionately. “My family would only let me marry a professor. She used to be a designer, but she became a professor for me.” It felt like someone had dumped a bucket of ice water over me. My whole body went cold. It really was her! Seven years of marriage, and her illegitimate child from her affair was already six years old! I suppressed my heartache and went home, only to overhear Serena on the phone. “Mom, find a way to make Holden have a car accident. Once he loses his memory, I’ll bring Preston and the kid home.” “I’ll arrange the best medical care for him, but he’s occupied Preston’s place for so long. It’s time he gave it back.” I stood frozen in place, my heart finally turning cold. Then I pressed send. [Dad, I agree to the arranged marriage, but the company has to go to me too.]

After finishing her shower, Serena placed a bowl of broth on the table. “You’re home so late today. Were you busy?” She was still playing the role of devoted wife, as if she wasn’t the one who had been cheating for six years. Serena rarely had time to cook. Usually it was me rushing home to make dinner for her. The old me would have been moved to tears by this bowl of soup. But I didn’t touch it. I just sat down and looked at her quietly. She sensed something was off, but still asked patiently, “What’s wrong? Bad day? Didn’t get any orders?” “You don’t need to put so much pressure on yourself. The kid thing—we don’t need to rush it.” I smiled bitterly to myself. Yeah, your kid is already that old. What’s the rush? Throughout our marriage, Serena had used her career advancement as an excuse to avoid having children. I thought she felt our life wasn’t stable enough, and I felt bad about how hard she worked as a professor, so I desperately took on orders to earn money, driving from 4 AM until midnight. Now it was clear. She just didn’t want to have children with me. Thinking of our seven years together, I held onto one last shred of hope. “Serena, is there anything you’re hiding from me?” “If you tell me now, I can pretend nothing happened.” Serena’s body stiffened. Clearly I’d struck a nerve. “What do you mean?” I didn’t bother explaining further. “I mean, who are you cheating on me with?” Suddenly, a slap landed hard across my face. Serena flew into a rage and knocked the broth to the floor. “Holden Hayes, you sit around doing nothing all day and come up with this nonsense?” “Imagining your own wife sleeping around—how disgusting are you?” I wiped the blood from the corner of my mouth. The last trace of affection disappeared. “I’m disgusting?” “When you told your mom to hurt your own husband, didn’t you think you were disgusting?” Serena froze for a moment, then frowned in disgust. “You eavesdropped on my phone call?” After a few seconds, she calmed herself and looked at me coldly. “Since you heard it, I’ll just say it straight.” “Preston and I have been together for many years. If he hadn’t gone abroad that year, and if you hadn’t saved me—” “How could I possibly have married someone as useless as you?” Her phone screen lit up. Serena glanced at something and her face filled with happiness. I laughed bitterly inside. So that man was still her true love. A belated pain started in my chest, followed by a dull ache from my ribs. That was a lingering injury from when I’d saved her. My breathing grew labored. “Serena, help me get my medicine… My rib injury is flaring up…” But Serena didn’t even glance at me. She grabbed her keys and walked out the door. “Holden, holding a favor over someone’s head works once. It won’t work a second time.” “You owe Preston so much. Apologize to him properly, and we can go back to how things were.” “I’m going to spend our anniversary with Preston. Think it over, then come find me.” My heart went completely numb. In her eyes, everything I’d done for her was just me holding a favor over her head. The pain in my ribs intensified. I struggled to move and find my medicine. Just as I took it, Lynn, my butler, called me. “Mr. Hayes, the arranged marriage with Miss Jones is set for three days from now. Please prepare yourself.”

I packed my things to go home. A colleague sent me a text message. “Holden, why is the platform full of bad reviews about you?” “The company fired you and locked your car access.” I felt no emotion. I knew without asking this was Serena’s doing. She wanted to use this method to force me to apologize, to force me to endure. But that was fine. I was going to resign anyway. This saved me the trouble. But the next sentence truly stopped me in my tracks. “Oh right, Miss Moore is actually the daughter of Mr. Moore, our chairman!” Serena was the daughter of Steven Moore, the owner of the rideshare company? My heart sank to rock bottom. No wonder management always gave me trouble and assigned me barely any orders. No wonder she could get her mother to sabotage me. But from our marriage until now, she’d lied to me, saying her parents were farmers in the countryside who couldn’t conveniently come to the city. I’d never met her parents. They hadn’t even attended our wedding. I didn’t care about her background, but I couldn’t accept that she’d deceived me for five years. From the very beginning, she never planned to accept me, and after all these years, she still hadn’t. I was about to block Serena’s contact information when an unknown number called. “Is this Holden Hayes? I’m Serena’s mother. Do you have time to come over for dinner?” I thought about it and agreed. Our seven years together deserved some kind of closure. I arrived at the Moore family mansion. Inside was lavishly decorated, filled with their relatives. After dinner, out of respect, I volunteered to wash dishes and clean up. That’s when I heard people around me gossiping. “So this is the man Serena never brought home? He’s quite handsome, but he looks so shabby.” “Oh honey, he’s just a rideshare driver who saved her once. How can he compare to Preston?” “Exactly. Preston may not have a job, but his family background is so much better.” I kept my expression unchanged, but my heart ached again. Back then, for Serena’s sake, I’d refused the family’s arranged marriage. I’d fought bitterly with my father and been kicked out of the house. I’d worked hard to give Serena the best life possible. She complained I was useless, yet the man she was devoted to was a freeloader who did nothing. The difference between love and lack of love was indeed obvious. Mrs. Moore sneered. “What husband? The marriage certificate is fake.” “My daughter said he’s just a male housekeeper Serena hired.” All the blood in my body seemed to freeze. I stood there rigid. The marriage certificate was fake? I thought of yesterday, when I’d taken out the marriage certificate to file for divorce, never imagining it was a fake document. The year we got married, Serena and I walked out of the courthouse together. She held that red booklet and smiled at me for the first time. “Holden, I’ll treat you well.” I’d been so excited I couldn’t sleep all night. How moved I’d been then was how ironic it felt now. Mrs. Moore even pulled out photos of their family of three and introduced them to everyone. “This is my real son-in-law. The child looks so much like his father, doesn’t he?” Just then, a news segment played on the TV. “The Moore family heiress has publicly revealed her longtime partner, Mr. Preston.” “According to the couple, they will hold a wedding of the century at the end of this month.” Looking at the TV screen showing the two of them smiling and snuggling sweetly together, I finally understood Mrs. Moore’s intentions. She’d called me here just to make me leave on my own, to establish in front of everyone that I was the homewrecker destroying their family. After gathering my things, I pushed open the door to leave, only to run straight into Serena, who’d just returned. Behind her stood the child and Preston. When she saw me, she slapped me without a word. “Holden Hayes, how dare you make a scene at my house?” “In front of all these people—what exactly are you trying to do?” After all these years, she still jumped to conclusions without asking, never caring about my feelings. My face stung painfully. I pulled at the corner of my mouth. Might as well make everything clear in front of everyone. “Serena Moore, I came to tell you that not everyone is like your freeloader mistress.” “I, Holden Hayes, never used a cent of your money or asked you for a single favor.” “From now on, you and I have nothing to do with each other. Understand?”

Serena’s usually proud face showed a trace of disbelief and panic. “What do you mean? You want a divorce?” I laughed coldly. “Divorce? The marriage certificate is fake. There’s no divorce to speak of, is there?” “All these years with you, wasn’t I just a free housekeeper?” The Moore family relatives started chiming in. “Serena, this man just claimed to be your husband. What’s your relationship with him?” Serena’s earlier panic vanished in a flash. She gripped Preston’s hand tightly behind her. “How is that possible? Preston has always been my husband.” “Would I, Serena Moore, ever like a rideshare driver?” Then Preston smiled and put his arm around her shoulder, sizing me up. “Oh, it’s you. That driver from the other day. I guess it’s true—dirty car, dirty person.” I clenched my fists, holding back again and again. Forget it. Arguing with these people was a waste of life. But just as I passed by him, Preston lowered his voice and leaned close to my ear. “She hasn’t let you touch her in a long time, right? Want to know why?” “Because her body is covered with my marks. And you—you’re dirty and weak, can’t even hold onto your own woman.” Hearing that, my anger finally exploded. Though I no longer cared about Serena’s affair, I couldn’t stand the mistress’s constant provocations. But before I could move, Preston suddenly let go and fell backward down the steps. He slammed hard onto the ground in front of the mansion entrance, blood seeping from the back of his head. The Moore family members screamed. Serena shoved me aside hard and ran down to hold Preston. “Preston, Preston, are you okay… Does it hurt…” Seeing her face full of concern, I found it laughable. Years ago, when I’d saved her, I’d broken two ribs and used my body to pry open the crushed car door. I’d been in so much pain that tears streamed involuntarily down my face, yet she’d said coldly, “You’re a grown man. Can’t handle a little pain? Do you need to cry about it?” Serena turned her head and shouted at me with red eyes. “Holden Hayes, have you lost your mind? To get me, you want to kill Preston?” This was the first time I’d seen her this angry. I said coldly, “He fell on his own. Are you blind?” Before I finished speaking, a sharp pain shot through my hand. It was Serena’s illegitimate son. He was hitting my arm with a scalding kettle of hot water. “Bad man! Don’t bully my daddy!” I frowned and pushed the child away. But Serena suddenly rushed over and slapped me several times. She held the child tightly behind her. “You bastard, you even want to hurt my son?” “Holden Hayes, do you really enjoy using these dirty tactics?” Mrs. Moore pulled out her phone and pointed it at me. She was livestreaming. “Everyone come see! The homewrecker is making trouble at the real wife’s house, trying to kill her husband and harm the child!” I looked at this absurd scene and suddenly felt exhausted. No matter how I explained, no one would believe me. They didn’t care about the truth. They wanted to ruin my reputation. Serena kept pounding on me, her eyes full of hatred. “Holden Hayes, I must have been blind to show you any mercy!” “You’ve occupied Preston’s place for so many years—how dare you lay a hand on him!” “Get on your knees and apologize to him right now!” I almost laughed in anger. “Why should I apologize for something I didn’t do?” “You chose to marry me. You chose to cheat. What do I owe Preston?” I looked at them one last time, coldly. “Serena Moore, you’ve lied to me for seven years. You’re the one who owes me.” “I hope you never regret this for the rest of your life.” With that, I ignored everyone’s curses and walked straight out. After instructing Lynn to pick me up, I stood by the road waiting for the car. But the next second, a black car suddenly came barreling toward me. I couldn’t dodge in time and slammed directly into the hood.

When I woke again, I was lying in the Hayes family’s private hospital. My head was dizzy, and my right leg hurt terribly. But compared to when I’d saved Serena, this injury was nothing. My father’s hoarse voice sounded. “You’re awake?” I turned my head to see him sitting by the bed, his eyes red. “Dad.” Seven years. I’d finally seen my father again. He touched my head, as if only then daring to confirm I was really awake. “How long was I out?” “Five days.” Five days. That’s when I learned that to get revenge on me, Serena had deliberately called a car to run me over. Fortunately, Lynn had arrived in time and rushed me to the best hospital for emergency treatment, which was why I’d woken up. Luckily there was no major injury—just a mild concussion and external wounds. I tried to sit up, propping myself on my arms. A dull pain shot through my ribs. Dad said he’d already sent people to deal with the hit-and-run driver, but as for those two people, he’d leave them to me. I nodded without asking more. Of course I wouldn’t let them off easily, but not now. Then I remembered something else. “What about the arranged marriage with the Jones family?” Lynn hesitated. “Miss Moore said we could wait a bit longer.” I frowned and immediately threw off the covers to get out of bed. “No waiting. Today.” “Making a young lady wait so long—what kind of behavior is that?” Dad came over and patted my shoulder gently, saying nothing. Finally, I changed into a suit and got in the car heading to the Jones residence. On the way, I opened my phone. There was a message Serena had just sent. I didn’t open it. I just deleted it. When I arrived at the Jones residence, Amelia Jones was already waiting for me. She wore a white dress. Seeing me get out of the car, she paused slightly. I walked over and extended my hand. “Sorry to keep you waiting, Miss Jones.” She smiled and placed her hand in my palm. “Just call me Amelia.” At the Moore mansion, Serena adjusted Preston’s collar. “Preston, the Jones family’s young lady is getting married today. I’m going over to discuss a project.” “Many elites will be there. It’s a perfect chance to introduce you around.” She took Preston’s arm and got in the car heading to the Jones residence. She opened her chat with Holden Hayes, still feeling uneasy. “Have you finished throwing your tantrum? When you’ve thought it through, come apologize to Preston.” “As long as you sincerely apologize, I can let it go. We can go back to how things were.” But he hadn’t replied to a single message these past few days. After thinking, she sent another one. “I was wrong about the marriage certificate. Whatever compensation you want, I’ll give it to you.” After sending it, she took Preston’s arm and entered the Jones family reception hall. Inside, business elites packed the space. Once everyone had arrived, the Jones family announced they would present the newlyweds. Preston said enviously, “I heard the man marrying Miss Jones has an even better background. I wonder which Mr. Hayes it is.” As soon as he finished speaking, I walked into the hall with a smile, holding Amelia Jones’s hand. The guests below applauded to congratulate us. After Serena saw my face clearly, she froze in place. Her purse dropped to the floor with a thud.

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After three years together, Xander set a rule: we couldn’t hold hands for more than three minutes a day. He said we had to meet at the summit—that we absolutely couldn’t let ourselves get distracted before the SAT exams. I believed him. I suppressed my desires and stayed up late studying with him. The night the scores came out, there was a class party. I went to find him with my results—scores high enough to get into the same university as him. But at the bar, I caught him pinning Summer, the worst student in our class, against the wall, kissing her with wild, unrestrained passion. Summer gasped and pushed him away: “Xander, your girlfriend will be angry if she finds out…” Xander laughed carelessly: “She’s obedient as a dog. I just need to buy her a gift and say a few sweet words, and she’ll be fine. She can’t leave me.” Outside the door, my hands and feet went ice cold. My heart hurt so much I couldn’t breathe. I thought he had a low sex drive. Turns out he just wasn’t interested in me. I forced back the tears threatening to spill from my eyes and tore up that application form where I’d filled in the same choices as him, piece by piece.

I wiped away my tears, tossed the scraps into the trash, and walked back to our private room without looking back. Five minutes later, Xander and Summer pushed through the door one after the other. Xander’s expression was normal as he walked straight over to sit beside me, handing me a glass of water. “Have some water. Your voice sounded a bit hoarse from singing earlier.” I didn’t take it. My eyes were fixed on the faint red mark at the corner of his mouth. He noticed my gaze and casually wiped the corner of his mouth with his sleeve. “What’s wrong? Is there something on my face?” He raised an eyebrow, his tone carrying a hint of indulgent helplessness. I felt nauseous. Before I could speak, a delicate cry suddenly came from the other end of the room. “Oh no!” Summer had fallen onto the sofa by the karaoke machine, her eyes rimmed with red. “I think I twisted my ankle. It hurts so much…” She clutched her ankle, but her gaze traveled over the crowd to land on Xander. Several guys immediately rushed over with concern. But Summer bit her lower lip and shook her head pitifully: “You don’t need to trouble yourselves. I’ll… I’ll just take a cab home.” Xander set down the water glass, his brow furrowing slightly. He stood up and turned to look at me. “Mia, it’s not safe for Summer to take a cab alone. Let me take her home.” I looked up at this face I’d loved for three years. “She just twisted her ankle, not broken her leg. Can’t the classmate take her?” A flash of impatience crossed his eyes, quickly suppressed. He reached out to ruffle my hair. “Come on, we’re all classmates. It’s just helping each other out.” “Don’t be so sensitive. Tomorrow I’ll go with you to submit your applications, and I’ll grab that Black Forest cake you love from my house, okay?” I turned my head away, avoiding his hand. This was the first time in three years I’d refused his touch. Xander’s hand froze in mid-air. “Xander, if Mia isn’t happy about it, forget it. I can manage on my own…” Summer grabbed the hem of his shirt, her voice choked with tears. Xander’s expression darkened. Without looking at me again, he gripped Summer’s arm and helped her up. “Let’s go. I’ll take you.” He didn’t give me a single extra word of explanation before walking out of the room supporting Summer. The moment the door closed, I heard classmates whispering: “Xander is way too good to Summer. I’m surprised Mia isn’t even mad?” When the party ended, it was already ten at night. I walked the streets alone. Passing by the corner convenience store that Xander and I used to frequent, my feet seemed nailed to the ground. Through the glass, I saw a young couple in school uniforms huddled together working on homework. The boy draped his jacket over the girl’s shoulders, saying something in a low voice. I stood in the wind, my nails digging deep into the soft flesh of my palms. The sharp pain came, and my eyes instantly rimmed red. But I bit my lip hard, refusing to let the tears fall. Back home, I turned on my computer by the light of the streetlamp streaming through the window. The screen lit up. In the center of the desktop was a folder named “MIT Sprint.” It contained scanned copies of every handwritten note Xander had made for me over these three years. My hand gripped the mouse, the cursor hovering over that folder for a full thirty seconds. Then I permanently deleted it. Just then, my phone on the desk suddenly lit up. It was a shopping link from Xander—a white floral dress. Immediately, a second message popped up. “Wear this dress tomorrow when we submit applications. I just bought it, it’ll look really good on you.” I stared at the product photo. This dress looked way too familiar. Last week, Summer had posted on Ins about receiving an early birthday gift—the exact same style. I pulled at the corner of my mouth in an extremely short, cold laugh. “I don’t want this so-called meeting at the summit anymore.”

“Mia, over here!” The next morning, outside the school hallway. Xander waved at me, holding a small cake box. A little flag was stuck in the box with the words: “See you at MIT.” I walked up to him, glanced at the cake, but didn’t take it. “What time did you get home last night after taking Summer back?” I looked into his eyes, my tone calm. Xander’s gaze flickered for a moment, the smile at the corner of his mouth slightly fading. “Around nine. Why?” I pulled out my phone, brought up a screenshot, and held it in front of him. “Then the message you sent her at 11:47 saying ‘home safe, remember to use the body wash I gave you’—were you sleepwalking when you sent that?” Last night after clearing the folder, I casually checked my social media feed. Summer had posted at 23:50 saying “Thanks Xander for taking me home, got the body wash.” Though she deleted it two minutes later, I’d already taken a screenshot. Xander panicked instantly, his fingers tightening on the edge of the cake box, but he quickly recovered. “Stop making everything into a big deal. We were stressed for three years in senior year—can’t I relax a bit?” “Or are you trying to control who I’m friends with too? Mia, when did you become so unreasonable?” Hearing these words, my mind flashed to the week before finals in second semester of junior year. Another guy in class had asked me to study together at the library on the weekend. When Xander found out, he gave me the cold shoulder for two whole days. In the end, I apologized first and deleted that guy’s contact, and only then did he return to normal. He had always held double standards. I’d just been too in love with him before, choosing selective blindness. “Say whatever you want.” I put away my phone and walked past him. He called after me: “Cool off for a bit. Fill in MIT computer science major for your application like we agreed. Don’t gamble with your future out of spite.” I stopped, looking back through the hallway’s glass window. Right in front of me, he answered a phone call. The name flashing on the screen was Summer. When he answered, the corners of his mouth turned up, his voice softened, his steps became light. Exactly like when he used to chase after me. I withdrew my gaze and walked alone into the classroom, sitting down at the computer. I logged into the application system. On the screen, the first choice field blinked with an empty cursor. I remembered when we first got together in freshman year, when Xander leaned on his desk and drew me a future plan. Freshman year, take photos together at the MIT entrance. Junior year, intern together. Senior year, he’d propose. I’d kept that draft paper tucked in my diary for three whole years. The mouse clicked. First choice: MIT Computer Science and Technology. I hit the backspace key. Cleared it and typed again. First choice: Harvard University, Law. The South. Two thousand miles away. This was my original dream when I started high school—the dream I’d personally abandoned to attend the same school as Xander. My finger hovered above the submit button. My hand was shaking. Not because I was hesitating, but because I suddenly realized that from this moment on, the boy who used to lean on his desk and draw me our future—he was truly dead. I clicked submit. Then I pulled out my backpack and extracted that future plan I’d saved for three years. I folded it once, then again. Then stuffed it into the paper bin in the corner of the classroom. As I left the classroom, Summer’s voice came from the end of the hallway. Around a corner, her voice floated over clearly. “Xander, I sneaked a bite of the cake you just bought for Mia… She won’t be mad, will she?” Then came Xander’s suppressed laughter: “You need to eat less sugar or your teeth will hurt again.” I carried my bag and left through the hallway’s other exit.

“Mia, why have you been ignoring Xander these past few days?” The first week after submitting applications, a classmate messaged me. I didn’t reply, just silenced my phone and tossed it on the bed. In the past, whenever we fought, as long as he gave me the cold treatment for three days, I’d be the first to back down. This time, Xander was clearly waiting again. I found an empty shoebox and packed all the things he’d given me into it. Handwritten problem sets, a cheap silver bracelet, sticky notes covered with physics formulas. When I got to the workbook from second semester of junior year, I opened the cover page. “Mia, I’ve organized the thought process for every wrong answer in this book. If you master them all, MIT is guaranteed. —Your Xander.” I ran my fingertip over the words “Your Xander.” Then I closed the book and put it in the shoebox. I picked up the packing tape, preparing to seal it. I didn’t cry, but when sealing the tape, I had to tear it three times before it broke. Because my fingers had completely lost their strength. On the third day, Xander finally sent me a message: “Been at my grandma’s in my hometown these past few days. Bad phone signal. Stop being mad and reply.” Below was a photo from his hometown. I still didn’t reply. That afternoon, I went to a bookstore downtown, planning to buy some travel guides for the South. While picking books on the second floor, my peripheral vision caught the first-floor café area. Xander, who said he was in his hometown, was sitting by the window helping Summer organize travel plans. On the table sat two milk teas, with two straws in Summer’s cup. I stood behind the bookshelf, my fingers crushing the corner of the book in my hand. Summer’s voice floated up clearly. “Xander, will Mia be upset that you came out with me?” “Is she still mad at you? Actually… my scores aren’t high enough for MIT either. You don’t need to worry about me.” Xander laughed lightly: “She’s so stubborn—where else would she go besides to me?” “She definitely filled in MIT. Don’t worry about it. After school starts in September, once she’s on my turf, I can just sweet-talk her a bit and it’ll be fine.” He paused, then added another line. “You’re different. I’m worried about you going to that community college alone. After I get settled, I’ll fly over to see you on weekends.” Summer giggled and tapped his hand. “But what about Mia?” “Her? She’s very sensible. Just buy her some flowers and she’ll be fine. Don’t worry!” I slowly released the crumpled book pages. I remembered the New Year’s Eve party in sophomore year, on the way home when Xander walked me back. I’d asked him: “If we ever fight, will you go comfort other girls?” Seventeen-year-old Xander had stopped and turned to look at me. Seriously and clumsily, he’d said: “Mia, I’ve given you all the patience I have in this lifetime. How could I have any left to give to someone else?” That was the best sweet talk I’d ever heard. Looking back now, it was just empty promises casually made by a teenage boy. I finally stopped feeling the pain. Because the boy who said those words and the person downstairs who said “just sweet-talk her a bit” weren’t the same person at all. I put the book back on the shelf, turned around, and went downstairs. I went home, grabbed that sealed shoebox, and stuffed it into the roadside clothing donation bin. Then I pulled out my phone and blocked his contact one by one. At the same moment, on the bookstore’s first floor. Xander’s phone buzzed. He glanced at it—not a message from Mia. He paid it no mind and continued helping Summer check travel routes. “I’ll give her the cold shoulder for two more days. When the acceptance letters come, I’ll take mine to her apartment building. I guarantee she’ll be moved to tears.” What he didn’t know was that below the group message he’d scrolled past, there was another one. The advisor had sent an @everyone notice in the grade group chat. “Please verify your application information, everyone. The system has been locked and cannot be changed.”

Mid-August, the acceptance letters finally arrived. Xander looked at the MIT acceptance letter in his hand, unable to suppress the smile spreading across his face. He pulled out his phone, took a close-up shot of the acceptance letter, and prepared to send it to Mia. He clicked send. A red exclamation mark popped up on the screen. Below it, a line of small text: “The other party has enabled friend verification. You are not yet their friend.” Xander froze for two seconds, then let out a scoffing laugh. He opened Ins. The message wouldn’t send. He called. It went straight to voicemail. But he didn’t panic. He even found it a bit amusing. This was the first time Mia had escalated the cold war to blocking him across all platforms. She must be really angry this time. But it didn’t matter. No matter how much of a fuss she made, wouldn’t she come back in the end? Xander switched back to the group chat and typed: “Mia blocked me, hahaha, she’s really going all out this time.” The group chat instantly exploded. “Xander, you’re so bold. You ignored her for a whole month and you’re not even worried?” “Mia’s such a good girl. If you just stand at her door with that MIT acceptance letter, won’t she just cry and throw herself into your arms?” He looked at these messages, in high spirits. He admitted that these past few months he’d gotten too close to Summer, and he felt a bit guilty. But that was different. Summer was just novelty. Mia was the one who truly understood him, who’d endured three years with him. He thought to himself that once school started, he’d definitely make it up to her properly. Xander rode his bike to the mall and walked into a flower shop. “Give me a bouquet of your most expensive red roses.” He tapped the counter. Payment: $399, more than double the $188 bouquet he’d bought for Summer. Next, he went to the jewelry counter and picked out a silver necklace with small diamonds. When he was paying, the clerk smiled and asked: “Sir, this necklace comes with free engraving. Would you like anything engraved?” Xander thought for a moment, his mind flashing to the words he’d written on the corner of their desk freshman year. “Engrave ‘Meet at the Summit.’” He thought this arrangement was absolutely perfect. He went home and changed into a dress shirt, checked his hair in the mirror, then pulled out his phone. He sent Summer a message: “Got something to do today. I’ll contact you tonight.” Summer instantly replied with a cute emoji. “Okay. Contact me when you’re done, Xander!” Xander smiled slightly and casually cleared his entire chat history with Summer. Just in case Mia wanted to check his phone when they met later. He rode his bicycle, holding that bouquet of gorgeous red roses with one hand. In the rear storage basket sat the cake box and the necklace box. He rode across the entire city toward Mia’s house. In his mind, he was already imagining Mia’s expression when she opened the door and saw all this. She’d probably keep a stern face at first, pretending to be unhappy. Then when she saw “Meet at the Summit” engraved on the necklace, her eyes would slowly redden. Finally, she’d reach out to take the flowers and quietly complain, “It’s good you know you were wrong.” She was always like this. For three years, he’d understood her too well. She couldn’t escape from the palm of his hand. Two blocks from Mia’s house, his phone started vibrating violently in his pocket. He stopped his bicycle, pulled out his phone and saw it was his high school teacher Mr. Johnson calling. Xander answered the phone, his tone relaxed and cheerful: “Mr. Johnson, I received the acceptance letter. MIT Computer Science. Thank you for three years of guidance…” Mr. Johnson cut him off directly. “Xander, I’m not calling about you. I’m asking you—what’s going on with Mia?” He frowned. “Mia? She should have received her MIT acceptance letter too, right?” A heavy sigh came from the other end of the phone: “With her scores, getting into MIT would have been more than enough. I even told other teachers you two would definitely go together.” “But when I got the final admissions list today…” Mr. Johnson’s voice suddenly rose. “Her application—she ended up choosing Harvard University Law School. That’s over two thousand miles from you.”

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I’d been with Ethan for seven years before my mom finally agreed to meet him. At dinner, the moment my mom raised her cup, Ethan’s phone rang. He glanced at the screen and gave my mom an apologetic smile. “Just a moment, I need to take this call.” That moment turned into forty minutes. The food on the table had long since gone cold. When he came back, his jacket reeked of women’s perfume. My mom said nothing. She just looked at me. The disappointment in her eyes hurt more than any words of blame ever could. Ethan sat down beside me and ruffled my hair. “Sorry about that. Had a last-minute issue with a project.” I forced a smile. A few days later, I got my marriage certificate. Only the groom wasn’t him. When my mom left the restaurant, her back was slightly hunched. A taxi waited by the curb. Before she opened the door, she turned to look at me. “Rachel, just trust your own judgment.” Nothing more. I nodded and watched the taxi disappear into the night. Ethan stood behind me, his hand on my shoulder. “Is your mom upset?” “No,” I said. “That’s good.” He let out a relieved breath. “Next time I’ll put my phone on silent. Today was really just an accident.” I turned away, slipping out from under his hand. “What project?” “Hmm?” He looked confused. “You said there was an issue with a project,” I said, meeting his eyes. “What project requires you to step outside for a forty-minute phone call?” He paused, then smiled. “Listen to that tone. You sound like you’re suspicious of me. It was Serena’s proposal—there was a problem with it. It’s her first time handling a project this big, and she panicked. I had to calm her down.” Serena. His assistant. Six months with the company. Twenty-three years old. “That took forty minutes?” “Well,” he said, pulling me close—this time I didn’t dodge. “It should’ve taken ten minutes, but she started crying. I couldn’t just leave her like that. You know how girls are—once the emotions start, it’s a whole thing.” “Not like you, though.” He looked down at me, his gaze tender. “My Rachel always understands.” A bitter taste spread through my chest. It was always like this. He always said I was the most understanding, then felt perfectly justified giving his time and patience to someone else. “Ethan.” “Yeah?” “Today was the first time my mom met you.” His hand stilled. “I know.” “She dyed her hair specially for today.” My voice was flat. “She hasn’t dyed her hair in ten years.” Ethan was silent for a few seconds. Finally, he just patted my shoulder. “I know. That’s why I feel even worse. Next time, I promise I’ll make it up to her properly.” “Let’s find a time. I’ll take her to that Italian place she likes. Sound good?” He finished speaking and glanced at his watch. “It’s getting late. Let me take you home. I have an early meeting tomorrow.” He raised his hand to hail a cab. I stood there, watching his profile. The streetlight stretched his shadow long across the pavement. He was still the same Ethan—always saying things no one could fault. But suddenly I remembered three years ago, when my mom first said she wanted to meet him. Back then Ethan had said, “Let me get a bit more established first. I want to give her a better impression.” Two years ago, my mom brought it up again. He’d said, “Next year. Once this project wraps up, I’ll have more free time.” Last year, he said he was preparing for it. This year, they finally met. And then came today. The car stopped in front of my building. Ethan unbuckled his seatbelt and leaned over for a goodnight kiss. I lowered my head, pretending to search through my bag, and avoided it. “I’m tired. Drive safe.” His hand froze mid-air. After a moment, he pulled it back. “Alright. Get some rest.” I got out of the car. The moment I closed the door, I heard his phone ring again. He answered it, his voice warm with laughter. “Still awake? Don’t cry. I looked over the proposal for you…” The car started and drove away. I stood downstairs, watching the taillights disappear around the corner. My phone buzzed. A message from my mom: “Are you asleep yet?” My finger hovered over the screen for a moment, then I typed: “Not yet.” After a while, she sent another message: “Rachel, I’m not old-fashioned. If you really love him, I won’t stop you.” “But I’ll say this once.” “Don’t undervalue yourself.”

I sat on the couch until two in the morning. Only a floor lamp lit the living room. On the coffee table lay a photo of my mom and me, taken on her birthday last year. In the picture, her eyes were crinkled into crescents from smiling, holding the scarf I’d given her. I’d spent a month picking out that scarf. It cost half my monthly salary. When Ethan saw the price tag, he’d said, “You’re buying her something this expensive? She won’t even have anywhere to wear it.” I didn’t respond. I bought it anyway. My mom was so happy when she received it, but she never wore it out. She said she was saving it for an “important day.” Like today. I stared at her smiling face in the photo, feeling my throat tighten. I got up and went to my bedroom, pulling an old tin box from the top shelf of the closet. Inside were things from Ethan and me over the years. Movie ticket stubs, amusement park passes, birthday cards he’d written. At the very bottom was a yellowed sticky note he’d slipped into my backpack in college: “Once I graduate and start earning money, the first thing I’ll do is marry you, so your mom won’t worry.” The handwriting was messy, but every word pressed hard into the paper. I stuck the note back in the box and closed the lid. My phone buzzed again. A message from Ethan: “Did you get home? Get some sleep.” I stared at the message without replying. Five minutes later, he sent another: “Still mad?” “I booked an Italian restaurant for tomorrow lunch. I’ll take your mom. You come too.” I stared at the screen for a long time. Finally, I typed: “No need.” He replied quickly: “What’s wrong? Are you really angry?” “Rachel, I know I didn’t do well today, but you have to understand—Serena’s project is really important.” “I’m at a critical point in my career right now. Once I get through this phase, I’ll give you all my time, okay?” I didn’t respond. I closed the chat window and scrolled to a contact labeled “Mrs. White.” Three months ago, my mom had asked someone to set me up on a blind date. This was the mother of that potential match. I’d refused immediately back then. My mom had said, “Just keep the contact. You never know.” I’d saved it but never planned to use it. Now, I sent Mrs. White a message: “Hello Mrs. White, this is Rachel. About what we discussed before—would that still be possible?” After sending the message, I turned off my phone. I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. My mind kept replaying my mom’s expression today. And the perfume smell on Ethan’s jacket. It wasn’t the brand I used. The next morning, when I woke up, I had over a dozen messages on my phone. Ethan had sent seven or eight, ranging from “good morning” to “why are you ignoring me” to “what’s wrong with you.” Mrs. White had replied: “Of course! The young man is wonderful. How about meeting this weekend?” And one from my mom: “Rachel, are you okay?” I replied to my mom first: “I’m fine. Don’t worry.” Then Mrs. White: “Yes, thank you Mrs. White.” Finally, I opened Ethan’s chat window. His latest message was from ten minutes ago: “Rachel, aren’t you being too childish?” “I already apologized. What more do you want?” I stared at those two sentences, my finger hovering over the screen for a long time. In the end, I typed: “Let’s break up.”

Ethan’s call came through three seconds later. I didn’t answer. He called five more times. When the sixth call came in, I picked up. Before I could speak, his voice came through. “Rachel, are you done throwing your tantrum?” His tone was clearly impatient. “I’m not throwing a tantrum,” I said. “I’m serious.” “Serious?” He gave a cold laugh. “You’re joking about breaking up? Rachel, how old are you? Why are you still so immature?” “I’m not joking.” “Then what do you mean?” His voice rose. “Just because I took a phone call yesterday, you want to break up with me? Don’t you think that’s ridiculous?” “It’s not because of yesterday,” I said calmly. “It’s because of these seven years.” He paused. “What seven years? What are you trying to say?” “I’m saying,” I looked out the window, “I’m tired, Ethan.” “I’ve waited seven years. You’re always waiting for the next time. Next time the project ends, next time things are more stable, next time you have more time.” “But there’s never a next time.” He was silent for a few seconds, then his voice softened. “Rachel, I know you feel wronged. But you have to understand—I’m at a critical point in my career right now…” “I understand,” I interrupted him. “I’ve always understood.” “So you—” “But I don’t want to understand anymore.” The line went quiet for a moment. “Rachel,” his voice turned cold again, “did your mom say something to you?” “I could see her expression yesterday. She clearly has a problem with me. Did she tell you to break up with me?” My grip on the phone tightened. “This has nothing to do with my mom.” “How does it have nothing to do with her?” His tone carried a hint of sarcasm. “You were never like this before. You saw her yesterday and suddenly you changed.” “Rachel, you’re twenty-nine years old. Can you stop listening to everything your mom says?” I closed my eyes. “Ethan, I’m meeting someone this weekend.” “Who?” “A blind date.” The line went completely silent. After a long pause, he finally spoke, his voice full of disbelief. “What did you say?” “I said I’m going on a blind date this weekend.” “Rachel!” He practically shouted. “Do you even know what you’re saying?!” “I do,” I said, my voice flat. “I’m completely clear-headed.” “Clear-headed?” He laughed bitterly. “If you were clear-headed, you wouldn’t say something like this!” “A blind date? You’ve been with me for seven years, and now you’re going on a blind date? Rachel, do you have any—” “We’ve already broken up,” I interrupted. “As of right now.” “So me going on a blind date is perfectly reasonable.” “You—” He seemed too angry to speak. After a long moment, he finally said, “Fine. Go.” “Go on your blind date. Meet a hundred people if you want.” “Rachel, I’ll be watching to see how long you can keep this act up.” He hung up. I put down the phone. My hand was trembling slightly. But my heart felt calm.

My mom called ten minutes later. “Rachel, did you and Ethan have a fight?” I was startled. “How do you know?” “He just called me.” My mom’s voice sounded tired. “He said you’re going on a blind date and asked me to talk you out of it.” “He also said you were influenced by me, and told me not to give you bad ideas.” I closed my eyes. “Mom, don’t worry about it. This is my own decision.” “I know.” She said, “I just wanted to ask if you’re serious about this.” “Yes.” The line was silent for a moment. “Then I support you.” Her voice was soft. “You’re my only daughter. I just want you to be happy.” “If he truly cared about you, I wouldn’t care about losing face yesterday.” “But if he can’t even care that much, I can’t trust him with you.” My eyes began to sting. “Mom…” “Don’t cry.” Her voice carried a hint of a smile. “Why cry? This is a good thing.” “I already asked Mrs. White about it. The man is a teacher—solid and reliable. Meet him this weekend. If it doesn’t work out, just think of it as making a friend.” “And if it works out…” She paused. “I hope you won’t be deceived by a man again.” Tears rolled down my cheeks. “Mom, I disappointed you.” “Silly child,” she sighed. “You’ve never disappointed me. I just feel bad for you.” After hanging up, I sat on the couch in a daze for a long time. My phone buzzed again. A message from my best friend Sophie: “I heard you’re going on a blind date?!!” “Did that jerk Ethan call you?” I replied: “I’m the one who initiated the breakup.” She responded instantly: “You should’ve broken up ages ago!!” “I’ve been side-eyeing him forever!!” “Remember your birthday last time? He said he was on a business trip, but I saw his assistant’s location check-in on social media—she was in the same city!” I stared at this message, my fingers going cold. I called Sophie. “When was this?” “Last month, on your birthday.” Sophie said, “I wanted to tell you then, but you were swamped with that project. I didn’t want to distract you.” “Wait, let me find it for you.” Soon, she sent me several screenshots. From Serena’s social media. The photos showed a restaurant with candlelight and wine on the table. The caption read: “Thanks to Mr. Hayes for the guidance. This newbie is finally making progress!” The location showed our city. Posted at 8 PM on my birthday. That day, Ethan had told me he was on a business trip in another city. The project was urgent, and he’d have to work late. He told me to celebrate my birthday without him and promised to make it up when he got back. I stared at that photo for a long time. Candlelight, wine, warm lighting. And Serena’s eyes curved into crescents from smiling. “Rachel, are you okay?” Sophie asked carefully. “I’m fine.” I heard my own voice, completely calm. “Thank you for telling me.” “Are you really going on this blind date?” “Yes.” “Then I’m coming with you.” She said, “I’m not letting you go alone.” I smiled slightly. “Okay.” After hanging up, I opened my chat history with Ethan. I scrolled up to a month ago. That day I’d messaged him: “When are you coming back?” He’d replied: “The project’s a bit tricky. Might be a couple days late. Happy birthday, babe. I’ll make it up to you when I get back.” I’d responded with: “Okay.” Looking at that message now. Every word felt like a joke. That weekend, Sophie came with me to meet the person Mrs. White had introduced. His name was Nathan, thirty-one, a high school teacher. He was a quiet person, didn’t talk much, but answered questions very earnestly. He asked me, “Have you really broken up?” I was taken aback. He smiled. “I heard you had a boyfriend you were with for a long time. I don’t mind, but I want to know if you’ve really moved on. I don’t want to be anyone’s substitute.” I looked at him, suddenly feeling this person was very sincere. “I’ve moved on,” I said. “Or rather, I’m in the process of moving on.” He nodded. “That’s good.” “I can wait for you to fully move on.” After the meeting ended, Sophie pulled me aside. “This guy’s pretty good. Way better than that scumbag Ethan.” “And did you see how he looked at you? He genuinely likes you.” I smiled without responding. My phone buzzed. A message from Ethan: “Done with the blind date?” “So, how was it? Meet your standards?” His tone dripped with sarcasm. I didn’t reply. He sent another message: “Rachel, I’m giving you three days to cool off.” “If you don’t come back after three days, don’t blame me for what happens next.” I looked at this message and smiled faintly. I closed the chat window. Opened my contacts and sent Nathan a message: “Nathan, thank you for today. If it’s convenient, could we get our marriage certificate tomorrow?” He replied quickly: “Of course.” I put away my phone. Sophie leaned over. “What are you texting?” “Getting married tomorrow.” “So fast?!” Her eyes widened. “You’re serious?” I looked across the street at a coffee shop. Five years ago, Ethan had told me in that very place that once his career stabilized, he’d marry me. “Yes. Completely serious.”

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On the fifth day of my husband Owen’s business trip, his cousin Louise suddenly sent me a message. “Bruna, I saw the obituary Owen posted on Ins. I’m in postpartum confinement right now, so I can’t make it to your father’s funeral. Don’t be too sad. Take care of yourself and the baby.” My whole body froze. My dad was perfectly fine. What funeral? Also, Owen and I were childfree—where did this baby come from? I suppressed my inner unease and gave her a brief reply. Then I used a burner account, pretending to be his relative, and added Owen on Ins. Sure enough, I saw that obituary! I immediately drove three hours to the funeral venue. In the solemn funeral hall, I met Owen’s other “wife” from his Ins. She looked at me with red-rimmed eyes, her voice choked with emotion: “You must be Owen’s relative, right? Thank you so much for taking time out of your busy schedule to attend my father’s funeral.” My heart surged with shock as I carefully examined the woman before me. She wore an expensive black dress and only light makeup, yet it was clear she was extremely well-maintained. I tried to calm myself down, but my voice still trembled uncontrollably: “Where’s Owen?” “He’s…” “Mommy!” Before Emily could finish, a five or six-year-old boy rushed right over to her. My breath caught. That face was like a miniature version of Owen. Counting the time, I’d been married for five years. That meant Owen had been juggling two women at almost the same time. So, did she know about my existence? Between her and me, who was the mistress? After our marriage, Owen said he was afraid I’d work too hard, so he wanted us to be childfree. His family never gave me trouble over this even once. I’d always been touched by his thoughtfulness. Never did I imagine the truth was that he’d had a son with another woman! Emily crouched down and ruffled the child’s hair. A smile appeared on her pale face: “Jimmy, be good. I still have things to do. Go find Grandma.” My heart jolted. Mother-in-law Antonelli actually knew about all this! The boy nodded obediently and ran to an old lady. That was none other than Antonelli, who had been “bedridden with chronic illness.” Right now, she was holding her grandson and walking as spryly as could be. In my memory, from the first time I met Antonelli, she’d been sickly. Every day she took more pills than she ate food, and year-round she was practically a hospital regular. The reimbursement receipts Owen submitted piled up like a small mountain. My expression darkened, my voice trembling as I probed with a remark: “The old lady seems really healthy.” Emily didn’t notice my abnormal reaction. She sighed, her words carrying gratitude: “Yes, Antonelli loves me like her own daughter. She raised the child.” “I don’t work, and she gives me $20,000 in living expenses every month.” My heart clenched violently, and a suffocating feeling instantly enveloped my entire body. Owen lived with my family. Shortly after our marriage, he’d had surgery for a severe herniated disc. Since then, he’d been unemployed at home, responsible for taking care of household meals and chores. To support the family, I threw myself into business trips and overtime. I worked my way up from director to CEO, and naturally my salary rose accordingly. My father-in-law passed away early, and Owen had depended on Antonelli. To put his mind at ease, I’d suggested several times that we bring Antonelli to live with us, but he’d refused with various excuses. So I transferred $22,000 to Antonelli every month for medical and living expenses. It turned out this mother-son pair had been using it all to support his mistress and bastard child! There were quite a few guests at the wake. Emily didn’t notice my emotional state and brought me over to Owen’s relatives. I looked at these people’s faces—each one more unfamiliar than the last. Yet they all acted very familiar with Emily. “Emily, you’re the apple of Owen’s eye.” “For him and the child, you must take care of yourself.” Emily smiled bitterly, her left hand moving to her lower abdomen. “Don’t worry, I will.” They even had a second child on the way! I clenched my fists, nails digging into my palms, yet I felt no pain. Using the excuse that his hometown was too far, Owen had even kept our wedding simple. After marriage, I’d never heard of him keeping in touch with any relatives. I’d had my doubts. But he would sigh heavily and say that after his father died early, those relatives bullied him and his mother. Naturally, there wasn’t much point in keeping in touch. Only now did I understand—these relatives weren’t avoiding contact with him. They were just avoiding contact with me! In their eyes, they only recognized Emily as Owen’s wife. Owen, what kind of enormous trap did you set for me?!

The relatives around them kept praising Emily: “Owen is really good to you. I heard he claimed to be taking leave for surgery, but actually came home to keep you company. What a good man!” “Such strong work capability, always the top salesperson, and he hands over all his money, even has to report his pocket money to you.” “You don’t know how much we all envy you.” Emily’s face flushed, happiness practically overflowing from her eyes. “I’ve told him too that he needs to spend money when he’s out, and doesn’t need to be so hard on himself.” “But he cares about me, says he’s afraid I won’t feel secure, and he’s willing to let me manage things.” Only then did I realize—the surgery, being unemployed—it was all fake! “I heard Owen is about to be promoted to director, right?” “He’s so capable, he’ll definitely treat his wife even better in the future.” My heart jolted again. Director? How utterly ridiculous! Owen had a job, and I didn’t know. He had such a high salary, yet still felt entitled to spend my earnings. I’d never even seen him bring home a single penny! In reality, he’d given it all to another woman, supporting another household! Emily’s tone was gentle as she continued: “Owen is the best person I’ve ever met. Being able to marry him is the greatest blessing of my life.” “When he heard something happened to my dad, he rushed over immediately and arranged this entire funeral.” A few days ago, Owen had looked flustered, saying he needed to accompany a newly employed friend on a business trip. In reality, he came to be this woman’s support. And I’d thought he was being loyal to his friends. Turns out, the clown was me all along. “Not only that, everyone knows he’s afraid you’ll get tired, so he even hired a housekeeper for you.” “Emily, look how well-maintained you are, like a girl in her early twenties. You don’t look like a mother at all.” I thought of looking in the mirror before leaving—the exhausted face staring back at me. I was only thirty, but excessive overtime and running myself ragged for our small household had left me haggard. Yet the woman before me had clear eyes, unburdened by daily necessities. All because she had an Owen who loved her to the bone. But I didn’t. Emily’s eyes curved into crescents, the grief from our first meeting already more than half gone. “What touches me most is how good he is to my parents—so much better than me, their own daughter.” “He visits them every week, bringing all kinds of nutritional supplements. Each time he also transfers tens of thousands to them.” Perhaps mentioning her late father, Emily couldn’t help but shed two more tears. Because my dad was rather domineering, he disagreed with Owen and me being together from the start. I was blind, insisting I had to marry him. After marriage, to protect his pitiful little ego. I resolutely moved out of my villa and bought a small two-bedroom to have our own little world. Though it wasn’t far from my dad’s house, I rarely went back because of work. Owen would only visit my dad during holidays, going through the motions perfunctorily. It seemed cold, yet I couldn’t pick out any specific faults. He spent four days almost every week visiting his “sick” mother Antonelli. In reality, he came here to reunite with Emily’s family. He even used the William family’s money to give to his “in-laws” here. What a “good son-in-law”!

Owen called Emily: “Honey, I’ve bought everything needed for the burial.” “Don’t worry, everything for our dad is absolutely the best.” “Stop crying so much. You need to take care of your health. Our family will depend on you from now on.” Emily was moved to tears: “Owen, you’re the one who works hardest for our family.” “Don’t rush. There’s still time. Drive carefully and stay safe.” After hanging up, an old lady in a wheelchair came to Emily’s side. “Emily, where’s Owen?” Emily wiped away her tears and forced a smile. “Mom, he’ll be home soon.” She looked at me again. “I still have things to attend to. Could you help look after my mom?” With that, she turned to greet other newly arrived guests. Emily’s mother Laura sighed softly: “Emily’s father passed away suddenly. Owen prepared this wheelchair for me, afraid I’d be overcome with grief.” “He means well, so I can’t refuse this kindness.” Mentioning Owen, Laura’s face filled with pride. My heart had already gone numb with pain. Inadvertently, I caught sight of the gold earrings on Laura’s ears—they were my mother’s heirlooms! I thought I was seeing things, so I leaned closer to confirm several times. Both earrings had scratches I’d accidentally made as a mischievous child. In exactly the same positions! I was certain—these were my mother’s belongings! Inner fury surged up, rushing straight to my head. I reached out my hand, wanting nothing more than to rip them off right now and burn all bridges! But ultimately reason prevailed over impulse, and I didn’t do it! I did want to blow up this scene, but not to become a laughingstock! Making a scene like that would only make people think I was crazy. That would be too easy on Owen and this family. I retracted my hand frozen in midair. Laura asked me: “Are you married?” I tried to keep my tone steady: “Yes.” “How does your husband treat you?” “He cheated on me, wouldn’t let me have children, but secretly had a bastard with some tramp. He even used my family’s money to support that household.” Laura was slightly stunned, seemingly not expecting me to say such things, then anger appeared on her face. “Disgusting! That man is absolute trash, and that mistress and her family are no good either.” Her words actually carried some indignation on my behalf. “People like that belong in hell.” “You can’t let them off easy, or they’ll think you’re a pushover.” Coincidentally, that’s exactly what I was thinking. Just then, Owen called me, his tone urgent: “Bruna, something happened with my friend.” “I urgently need fifty thousand dollars. Transfer it to me quickly!” My hand holding the phone kept trembling. I suppressed my rage and asked back: “What happened?” “Did someone in the family die?” Owen was stunned, seemingly not expecting me, who usually supported him unconditionally, to say such a thing: “Why are you talking like that?” “Is that harsh?” “What do I care about their business?” “Figure it out yourselves!” After hanging up, within seconds, a new message from Owen came through. [You usually act so understanding, but you’re actually this heartless.] [Bruna William, don’t regret this!] The next second, Emily’s phone chimed with a new message, and she walked over to Laura. “Mom, Owen says he bought you some jewelry.” Laura smiled and said, “That boy, so extravagant.” While looking at the images Emily passed her on the phone. When I saw that jewelry, I completely froze on the spot. They were all my mother’s heirlooms!

I finally understood what he meant by telling me not to regret it. This man wasn’t satisfied with just giving away the earrings—he had to go this far! It truly refreshed my understanding of him once again. How could someone be so shameless?! “Mom, Owen says it’s only right to be filial to you.” “He also says after Dad’s funeral is over, he’ll take a few days off work to take you out to relax.” “Even if just for us, you must take care of your health.” Emily’s voice trembled, tears instantly welling up. Laura’s eyes filled with tears as she gripped Emily’s hand and nodded firmly. Seeing this scene, my emotions were incredibly complex. A loving mother and filial daughter, a harmonious family. Without all this mess, I might have admired them like everyone else. But all these happy scenes were built on trampling the happiness of me and my entire family! Emily gracefully attended to the guests like a competent hostess. Laura in front of me sighed deeply again, as if talking to me, yet also to herself: “Owen even suggested bringing me to live at his place.” She pulled out a grayscale photo of her late husband from her pocket. She touched the smiling face in the photo, a tear falling. “Owen is a good man who knows how to care for people.” “Emily is with him, so you can rest in peace.” “Even I can close my eyes without worry now.” I instinctively clenched my fists, my brows furrowing. My heart felt like it was being stirred by something, unbearably painful. But whatever is owed must be repaid, no matter who it is, right? Images suddenly flashed through my mind. When Mom was critically ill, I knelt crying by her bed, hands trembling as I accepted the jewelry box. Mom said this was my dowry, and also a safeguard in marriage. Dad had a huge fight with me, determined to stop me from marrying beneath myself to Owen. When he learned I’d gotten married, he fell ill from anger. But he still offered me an olive branch first, telling me if I ever suffered any grievance, he would always be my support. In a trance, I seemed to see myself again, working late at the office that night. My heart full of expectations for a happy marriage. Now, the dream was completely shattered. I couldn’t help clutching the pregnancy test in my bag—one I’d stroked so many times it was creased. It read: Pregnant, eight weeks. I’d planned to tell Owen this good news when he returned from his business trip. But sadly… “Emily, I’m here.” Owen’s shout brought me back from my thoughts. I saw him gently embrace Emily, coaxing her like a child, wiping the tears from her eyes. I’d never seen such deep affection in his eyes. I was also hearing that tender tone for the first time. “Don’t be afraid, I’m here for everything.” I never knew he had such a responsible side. As for the other secrets he was hiding, I had no interest in knowing anymore. Watching the two of them openly display their affection, my heart felt no ripples. Turns out when anger reaches its extreme, it becomes abnormally calm. “By the way, where’s your mom?” “One of your relatives is looking after her.” Owen let out a long breath and nodded. “Then we should really thank them.” With that, his gaze pierced through the crowd and landed on a familiar figure. And I walked up to the podium and picked up the microphone: “Owen, my husband. How are you going to thank me?” The entire funeral hall instantly fell dead silent. His heart skipped a beat. Owen looked up in utter shock. When his eyes met mine, his pupils contracted and all color drained from his face.

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On my wedding night, I caught my good friend Judson and my wife Doman in bed together. Crying, they claimed they were drunk and confused. They knelt at my door for three days and three nights. When they saw I was determined to divorce, Doman slit her wrists, and Judson got a vasectomy. Under the repeated persuasion of friends and family, I eventually softened. For seven years, she was gentle and considerate. Everyone praised her for knowing her mistake and reforming. Until my father-in-law Andrew’s birthday, when my six-year-old sister-in-law hugged Doman’s leg and asked: “Where’s my daddy?” I smiled and pointed at Andrew behind me: “Jones, your dad is right there, isn’t he?” Jones turned her head and said crisply: “I’m talking about my real daddy.” I froze and looked awkwardly at Doman. Her expression remained calm as she looked up at me and said: “Samuel, there’s something I never told you. Actually, Jones isn’t my parents’ child. She’s mine and Judson’s daughter.” I heard her words and froze in place. My brain felt like someone had punched it hard. It was buzzing. “What did you say?” My voice was trembling, full of disbelief. Doman put Jones down and patted her back: “Be good, go to Grandma.” Jones bounced over to my mother-in-law Eve. Eve scooped her up, her eyes darting away, not daring to look at me. Doman turned around, her expression so calm it was chilling. “Jones is mine and Judson’s child. Judson got a vasectomy. He’ll never have children in this lifetime, so I gave birth to her.” She paused, looking at Jones who was playing with Eve’s hair, her tone as casual as discussing what to eat today. “I originally planned to keep it from you for life.” I staggered back a step, grabbing the dining table behind me to keep from falling. “Then you… why are you telling me now?” My throat felt like it had been scraped with sandpaper. Every word tasted of blood. Before Doman could speak, Andrew stood up. He looked at me, his voice heavy: “It was my idea.” I jerked my head up to look at him. “Jones is already six years old. Your mom and I are getting old. We can’t raise a child properly.” “We don’t want to keep making this mistake!” My chest felt like someone was squeezing it. I couldn’t breathe. Eve suddenly put Jones down and pushed her toward the bedroom: “Jones, be good, go play inside. I’ll come keep you company in a bit.” When the bedroom door closed, she turned around. The expression on her face had completely changed. “Samuel, don’t blame Doman. If you hadn’t insisted on divorce back then, Judson wouldn’t have gotten a vasectomy. We were the ones who told Doman to give birth.” She paused, her tone self-righteous: “Judson is our adopted son. We had to leave him an heir!” My brain went blank. Doman had said back then that Eve had a late-life pregnancy and was afraid of gossip, so she went to Europe to give birth. Doman went along to take care of her for a whole year. I thought she was being filial. It turned out it wasn’t Eve having a baby. It was her having a baby. I raised my head and looked at Doman. This woman I had loved for ten years. We met in college and married after graduation. I thought we were a perfect match. But on our wedding night, she rolled into bed with her adoptive brother, my best friend. I asked for a divorce. She knelt on the ground begging, her forehead hitting the floor with loud thuds. Judson knelt beside her, a grown man trembling and crying. Seeing I wouldn’t compromise, the next day, she slit her wrists. When I rushed to the hospital, she lay in the bed, pale as paper, but gripping my hand tightly. “Samuel, I was wrong… please don’t divorce me…” “Without you, I’ll really die…” I softened. Judson also got a vasectomy that same day, saying he would spend the rest of his life atoning. Everyone urged me: “She slit her wrists, he got a vasectomy. What more do you want?” I thought about it for a whole month, convincing myself to forgive her, convincing myself to forget that night, convincing myself to love her again. I did it. For seven years, I forgot about that incident and treated her sincerely. I thought she had really changed. But now it seemed, all of this was just a joke! After a long silence, I raised my head and stared coldly at Doman, saying word by word: “Doman, let’s get divorced.” My voice was so soft I could barely hear it myself. When the words fell, Andrew and Eve’s expressions changed completely. Doman also froze, her brows furrowing tighter. “Over such a small matter?” She turned her head, impatience in her tone. I laughed, laughed until my eyes stung. “Small matter?” “Doman, you had someone else’s child and raised her right under my nose. That’s a small matter?” She sighed, turned to look at me, her eyes calm. “Samuel.” She placed her hand on her lower abdomen. “I’m pregnant.” “Are you sure you want to divorce me?”

I froze at her words. “What did you say?” Doman removed her hand from her abdomen and looked up at me, her eyes as calm as a stagnant pool. “Your dad has late-stage liver cancer. He doesn’t have much time left.” “Before he dies, doesn’t he just want to see you have a child?” I felt like all the strength had been drained from my body. These past seven years, I had mentioned having a child to Doman countless times. The first year, she said her career was just starting, to wait a bit longer. The second year, she said she wanted to enjoy our two-person world for a few more years. The third and fourth years, she always said she was busy, always said there was no rush. I thought she didn’t want children. I thought she was really planning for our future. But now, she was using a child as leverage to threaten me. In my mind, I saw my father in his hospital bed. When I visited him last week, he was so thin he was unrecognizable, yet he still held my hand and smiled. “Samuel, I don’t have many regrets in this life. I just want to see you have a child.” “You and Doman have been together seven years. It’s time to have a child.” I kept my head down, unable to speak. He patted my hand, smiling with expectation. “It’s okay, I can still hold on. I can still help you take care of the baby.” I closed my eyes and clenched my fists, my nails digging deep into my palms. Eve came over, her tone softening. “Samuel, you and Doman have been together so many years. Can you really bear to divorce?” Andrew also walked over, his head down as he said in a muffled voice: “Doman did wrong in this matter, but these years… how she’s treated you, you know in your heart.” “For the child’s sake, both of you back down a bit.” I opened my eyes suddenly, a bitter smile pulling at the corner of my mouth. Had Doman treated me well? Yes. After that incident, she was attentive to me in every way. Every morning when I opened my eyes, there was always a pressed shirt at the bedside. Whatever I liked to eat, she learned to make it at home. No matter how troublesome, she was willing to learn. When I worked overtime until late at night, she always left a light on, with soup warming in the pot. When I had a fever and was hospitalized, she stayed by my bed for three days and nights without closing her eyes. Everyone said I was lucky. “Your wife treats you so well. I’ve never seen anyone so considerate.” “You two are such a perfect match. You’ll definitely grow old together.” Even Andrew and Eve, because of that incident back then, were especially good to me. During holidays, Andrew personally cooked my favorite dishes. When my parents visited, Eve would accompany them shopping all day without complaining. I thought she had really changed. I thought the woman who knelt before me and slit her wrists was really spending the rest of her life in repentance. But it turned out all of this was just an act performed for me. I raised my head and looked at the three people in front of me, saying hoarsely: “So, what do you want me to do?” “Just acknowledge this child?” As soon as I finished speaking, Doman pulled out a document from her bag and handed it to me. “This is a property division agreement.” I looked down. The content was painfully glaring. It stated that no matter how many children Doman and I had in the future, 70% of the family assets would belong to Jones. Including the old house my dad left me. I was stunned and looked up at her in disbelief: “You want me to leave most of my assets to your illegitimate daughter?” Doman showed no guilt. She looked at me with complete self-righteousness. “Samuel, you don’t like Jones. In the future, you definitely won’t be able to treat both children equally.” “I’m just fighting for a bit more for Jones. Is that wrong?” “I just want to give my child security.” I opened my mouth but couldn’t speak for a moment. I just felt it was ridiculous. She wanted to give her child security, so she had to sacrifice my interests and my child’s interests? Why should I? I was about to argue when the doorbell suddenly rang. Eve walked over to open the door. Standing outside was a man in casual clothes, with a faint smile on his face: “I’m back.”

Judson’s voice carried into the living room. Everyone froze. Andrew and Eve’s faces first flashed with disbelief, then were overtaken by enormous joy. “Judson? Really?” Doman was even more excited, her eyes reddening. She unconsciously walked a few steps toward the door. Judson entered, first holding Eve’s hand and saying gently: “Mom, I’m back.” His gaze swept across the room. When he saw me, the smile at the corner of his mouth stiffened. “Samuel, you’re here too.” I forced out a smile that looked worse than crying. Seven years. Judson seemed not to have changed at all, except for a bit more gentleness in his expression. Did he know Doman had given birth to his child? Just as I was thinking this, the bedroom door suddenly pushed open. Jones, hearing the sound, ran out. The moment she saw Judson, her eyes lit up. Like a little butterfly, she flew into his arms. “Daddy! You’re finally here! I missed you so much!” Judson quickly held the child in his arms, the affection in his eyes overflowing. “I missed you too.” Jones wrapped her arms around his neck and looked at Doman, saying in a sweet voice: “Mommy missed you too. She looks at your photos every day.” Hearing this, Judson looked up at Doman, his gaze tender as water. Watching their happy family of three, I felt cold all over. Finally, I just laughed in anger. So they had known all along. Only I, like a fool, had been kept in the dark for seven whole years. I looked at Judson, my voice cold as ice. “Don’t you owe me an explanation?” I stared at him hard, asking word by word: “Didn’t you say you would never appear in front of me again?” As soon as I finished speaking, the smile on Judson’s face froze. He handed the child to Eve and looked at me, struggling to speak: “Samuel, I’m sorry, I…” “Enough!” Before he could finish, Doman sharply interrupted. She quickly walked to Judson’s side and glared at me: “Samuel, Judson finally came back. Are you going to drive him away again?!” Andrew and Eve also snapped out of it and immediately glowered at me. “Samuel, Judson has been gone for seven years. What more do you want?” “Exactly! This is our home. If anyone should leave, it’s you!” Jones also broke free from Eve’s embrace, rushed over, and pushed me hard, screaming: “You’re a bad person! Don’t bully my daddy!” I looked at their united front, looked at Doman’s undisguised disgust toward me. The last trace of warmth in my heart was completely crushed. “Fine, fine… I’ll leave!” Eyes red, I slammed the door and left. Leaving Andrew’s house, I drove toward the hospital. While waiting at a red light, I scrolled to Doman’s Twitter. It was a photo of their family of three. Judson holding Jones, Doman leaning against him, smiling radiantly. The caption read: [A happy family] I laughed, liked it, and left a comment under that post: [Brother becomes lover, sister becomes daughter. Quite happy indeed.] Less than a minute after posting the comment, Doman’s call came through. As soon as I answered, her angry accusations came pouring out: “Samuel, what do you mean?! Delete that comment right now!” I laughed coldly: “Isn’t what I said the truth?” “You!” She was furious. “Fine! You’ll regret this!” With that, she hung up. I tossed my phone to the passenger seat and floored the gas pedal. When I reached the hospital and went upstairs, I saw several nurses rushing a hospital bed toward the emergency room. And lying on the bed was my dad. I froze, my brain going blank. After coming to my senses, I frantically called Doman. “What did you do?!”

On the other end of the phone, her voice was cold and vicious. “What did I do?” “I just called your dad and told him I was going to abort the child in my belly!” “That the Simon family will be without descendants forever!!!” I was so angry my whole body shook. I roared into the phone: “Doman, are you insane! Don’t you know my dad is sick? Don’t you know he can’t handle shock?” “Get over here right now! Come tell my dad you were joking!” Doman laughed coldly: “Who told you to post that stuff on Twitter? Do you know how upset Judson was when he saw it?” “Do you know how much determination it took for him to come back?!” “Samuel, this is the price of speaking carelessly!” With that, she hung up directly. After that, no matter how many times I called, no one answered. Twenty minutes later, the light in the emergency room went out. The doctor came out, removed his mask, and shook his head at me. “There’s not much time left. Go in and see him.” All the strength in my body seemed to drain away. I staggered into the room and held my dad’s icy cold hand. He could no longer speak. He just looked at me weakly, his lips moving slightly. I understood from his lip movements. “Doman… child…” Tears burst from my eyes. I choked out: “Dad, don’t worry, the child is still there!” “She’s just mad at me, talking nonsense. Don’t take it seriously.” In my dad’s cloudy eyes, there seemed to be a glimmer of light. He struggled, as if wanting to say something. I leaned my ear closer and heard him use his last bit of strength to say: “Want… to see… Doman… and the child…” He wanted to see Doman. He wanted to see that unborn child. “Okay, okay, I’ll call her. I’ll call her right now!” With trembling hands, I took out my phone and called Doman’s number over and over, called Andrew’s house… all went unanswered. “Dad, wait, she’ll come soon, very soon…” I held my father’s increasingly cold hand, tears falling in large drops onto the back of his hand. I kept calling and texting, but there was never a response. My dad kept looking toward the doorway, the light in his eyes dimming bit by bit, little by little. Finally, I could only watch as my dad’s hand slowly dropped, watch as the line representing his heartbeat on the monitor became a flat line. “Dad——!!!” I knelt by the hospital bed, letting out a beast-like wail. Over the next few days, I handled my father’s funeral arrangements alone, without notifying anyone from Doman’s family. It wasn’t until a week later that my phone screen lit up. It was a message from Doman. [Tomorrow my parents are throwing a welcome party for Judson and announcing Jones’s identity. We’ll say Jones is our child to outsiders!] I looked at the words on the screen, expressionless. Seeing I didn’t reply, she sent a few more messages. [Alright, I know you’re still angry.] [Don’t worry, after the party ends, I’ll go with you to see Dad.] [We’ll bring Jones too, to make him happy.] [Remember to come tomorrow!] Seeing her mention my dad, a cold smile pulled at the corner of my mouth. I picked up my phone and replied with three words: [Got it.] After sending the message, I looked at the document envelope on the table. Doman, don’t worry. Not only will I come, I’ll prepare an unforgettable gift for all of you. The next afternoon, I appeared at the party on time. The hotel banquet hall was crowded. All the guests were relatives and friends from Doman’s side. Andrew and Eve stood on stage, beaming. “We’ve invited everyone here today to announce some great news!” “Our adopted son Judson, after working overseas for seven years, has finally come home!” Thunderous applause erupted below. Judson stood to the side in a sharp suit, smiling and nodding. Finally, Doman led Jones onto the stage. She took the microphone, smiling gently and gracefully. “There’s one more thing we want to share with everyone. Actually, Jones is mine and Samuel’s daughter.” She followed yesterday’s script, relating Jones’s “background” in detail. Finally, she looked at me with deep affection and said softly: “Now, let my husband, Samuel, say a few words too!” I was about to stand when Eve leaned close to my ear and whispered threateningly: “Don’t say anything crazy up there, or you’ll regret it!” I smiled, picked up the document envelope, and walked onto the stage. I took the microphone from Doman’s hand. Facing the crowd below, I said clearly, word by word: “Thank you all for coming today to attend mine and Doman’s—divorce party.” As soon as those words left my mouth, the entire room fell deathly silent.

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My husband, Alexander Vance, had recently taken in a not-so-obedient young woman. He spoiled her so much that she forgot her place and actually came to cause trouble right in front of me. The young woman’s eyes were bright, and she stubbornly refused to call me Mrs. Vance. “Miss Sterling, in love, the one who isn’t loved is the real third wheel.” I smiled, reached out a slender finger, and forcefully yanked the pearl earring from her ear. Drops of blood instantly bloomed on her earlobe. Behind us, Alexander appeared, his jaw tight. Chloe just stood there with red eyes: “Mr. Vance, please don’t be angry. Miss Sterling probably didn’t mean it.” Alexander just took my hand, blowing on it gently: “Abby, does your hand hurt?” Chloe stared at him in disbelief as a large tear rolled down her cheek. And I just offered a faint smile. 1 Chloe was taken away by Alexander’s secretary. She seemed to have a thousand things to say, probably not understanding how the man who had been somewhat gentle with her yesterday could turn like this today. Alexander’s affection for me wasn’t entirely fake. He noticed a faint, barely visible mark on my finger and kissed it repeatedly. “Abby, a woman like that isn’t worth dirtying your own hands,” he said, a hint of disapproval in his dark eyes. I looked at Alexander, my expression normal. I wasn’t surprised by his actions. We were childhood sweethearts, growing up together. By nature, he wasn’t a particularly docile person, yet he was always tolerant and considerate of me. In prominent, old-money families like ours, rotting marriages are everywhere. But he was the one I had actively chosen. Even when we got married, my best friend, Serena, was endlessly envious. After all, when people reach a certain status, they view basic moral constraints with cold indifference. Alexander was genuine toward me. Serena said that in elite families, fidelity is often viewed as a weakness. When wealth expands to a certain level, expecting a man to remain forever faithful is truly rare. For many arranged marriages between powerful families, maintaining a facade of peace is already an achievement. But Serena had seen how Alexander served me food, seen how he unknowingly smiled just at the mention of me. He truly cared for me. But his care wasn’t one hundred percent. In his position, not having beautiful women swarming around him would be abnormal. The few “understanding companions” Alexander occasionally kept were nothing in Serena’s eyes. It was just too common. It seems that when corruption becomes the norm, innocence becomes the anomaly. 2 Dinner was cooked by Alexander. For a young, successful man like him to be willing to cook was truly rare. Even my usually picky mother was full of praise. They all seemed to envy me for having the vast majority of Alexander’s love and his complete tolerance. I only had to frown, and Alexander could make whatever I disliked disappear forever. He carefully cut my steak for me, and I lowered my eyes, taking small, slow bites. His phone kept lighting up. I instinctively reached for it, and he, thinking I wanted the wine from his glass, thoughtfully handed it to me. When he saw I was reaching for his phone, he just smiled, picked up a napkin to wipe his hands, and then handed the phone to me. “Wife, it’s rare for you to check up on me.” The smile in his eyes was genuine. Alexander never really hid his “understanding companions” from me. It was probably because the men around him behaved far worse than he did. He gave his wife total respect, consideration, and always put me first. Moreover, even my own parents each had their own separate lives outside. I knew for a fact they had several illegitimate children. My mother didn’t have a son, so she chose a relatively decent illegitimate son to inherit the family business. He respected my mother and was quite protective of me, his sister. In old-money families, fidelity is a joke. No matter how gentle the surface appears, the bones are rotten. I unlocked the phone. I couldn’t find Chloe anymore. I understood; after offending me, Alexander wouldn’t let her off easily. Scrolling further down, I saw Mia. She had been by Alexander’s side for a while now. I had heard of her—a submissive, obedient type. When she saw me, she acted like a frightened quail. She kept her head as low as possible. Alexander was very satisfied with her tactfulness, so she was getting good resources now. A few days ago, I even saw her at a jewelry exhibition. I attended as Mrs. Vance. Alexander sat to my right, and Mia, wearing a diamond necklace, sat opposite us, essentially displaying that necklace to me. I glanced at it a couple of times, and Alexander bought it. Mia thanked me softly. She was very tactful, didn’t stay long, and certainly didn’t flaunt her status in my face. That night, Alexander even sensed my displeasure and whispered in my ear, “Don’t like her? I’ll swap her for someone else right away.” The affection in his eyes was real. Whatever I disliked, he could discard. I smiled, my eyes curving. “Alexander, aren’t you being a bit too sensitive?” Ever since we were little, I called him by his full name. When we were young, I would sit behind him on his bike, the wind blowing his shirt like a sail, and I would press my cheek against his back. It smelled like sunshine. It was the fluttering of a young heart. It was the budding of love. Alexander patted my hand. The lighting was dim, but his tone was sweet: “Abby, I often think about the path we’ve walked together.” I didn’t say a word, just stared silently into the distance. 3 That night, Alexander didn’t sleep beside me. He said he had business at the company. I properly straightened his clothes and watched him leave. Not long after, Serena called: “Hey, I think I saw your Alexander. He’s with my bastard husband. I heard they ordered quite a few escorts, but don’t worry, your Alexander doesn’t play that wild; it’s usually just one-on-one.” In the dark, I turned on the lamp: “And how many male models did you order?” Serena burst out laughing: “I used to invite you out, but you’re an outlier. You hate this stuff and don’t understand the fun of it. Abby, you need to broaden your horizons. It’s better when husbands and wives play together. If one stays strictly faithful, it just leads to frustration.” I remained silent. Her voice continued: “Abby, I know what you want. But you have to realize, when you reach a certain level, women swarm these men, and they’re surrounded by flattery and sycophants. It’s too hard to stay clean.” “I haven’t stayed clean,” I said quietly. Serena let out a sound of surprise, sounding very interested: “You’re keeping someone too? Who is it? Tell me.” I was just about to speak when I heard the sound of the front door unlocking. I smiled and hung up the phone abruptly. 4 I stood at the landing of the stairs, looking toward the door. Elias, dressed in simple, clean clothes, familiarly turned on the light, took off his shoes, and walked inside. The young man had gentle features. Seeing me, he offered a shy smile and made a gesture with his hands. I met Elias on a rainy day, right after I found out Alexander was seeing someone else. I was sitting on the bench at a bus stop, the rain mixing with my tears, dripping down continuously. When you love someone, you use all your strength, leading to possessiveness. Suddenly hearing about his infidelity, no matter how good your temper usually is, jealousy spreads through your entire body. But I had seen too much of this. My friends, relatives, and parents had all set very bad examples for me. When they talked about these things, they didn’t even take it to heart. For a long time, I felt like I was the freak. Even Serena, who understood me best, looked at my depressed state with sheer bewilderment: “Abby, the Vance family is valued at over thirty billion, and Alexander is the standout among them. With a status like that, it’s unrealistic for him not to have a few women hovering around.” Everyone told me to relax, that Alexander was just lacking in fidelity, and that it was a harmless flaw. But I suppressed my pain, not daring to show it, because I had seen how pathetic my mother looked. Vases shattered all over the floor; the torment made my usually gentle mother somewhat unhinged. Later, she frequently sought comfort outside too. At first, it was out of revenge, but later, it became an addiction. With a look of lust in her eyes, she told me that when you can’t fight it, you just have to go with the flow. Elias, holding an umbrella, appeared in front of me. The young man was very tall, his knuckles smooth like jade. When he smiled, dimples appeared on his cheeks. I looked up and told him to get lost. But he seemed not to hear me. He just tried to hand the umbrella to me. I poured all my unvented anger into the most vicious words directed at this stranger, but Elias only looked at me with a calm face. His eyes were as vast and accepting as the ocean. After a long while, he looked down at his phone and typed a sentence: [I’m sorry, I sent my hearing aids in for repair today. I can’t hear what you’re saying.] He smiled, his eyes curving like crescent moons. The words got stuck in my throat, unable to go up or down. I felt ashamed. I had actually vented my anger on such a gentle boy. We met again in a university lecture hall. I was invited as a successful alumna to speak about the ups and downs of life. During the ribbon-cutting ceremony, I saw him. As an outstanding student, he took a photo with me. Surprisingly, when I received that photo from my assistant, the boy’s features were gentle, radiant like stars and the moon. I don’t know what I was thinking, but I had my assistant send him a pair of high-end hearing aids. 5 While I was lost in thought, Elias, wearing a backpack, tapped on my car window. My assistant looked displeased, but I told her to shut up. The young man smiled and handed the expensive hearing aids back to me: “Hello, this belongs to you.” He looked at me calmly, and in that moment, I suddenly realized he had already forgotten that I was the pathetic woman in the heavy rain that day. After that, I frequently appeared near Elias. At first, I didn’t plan to do anything. It was probably just because people this pure rarely appeared around me. Maybe when money reaches a certain amount, life becomes truly boring, and you want to find some amusement. During that time, Alexander found his second “understanding companion”—a girl who dared to love and hate, bright and sunny. He was probably just enjoying the novelty of it and was so caught up in his pleasure that I rarely saw him. He even slipped up in front of me several times. I suppressed my anger, eating and watching TV in silence. Alexander would pat my hair: “But Abby, the path we’ve walked together is ultimately different.” Of course, I understood the meaning of those words, and I knew he meant it sincerely. After all, my relationship with him was indeed different. I never doubted his sincerity toward me. We were from equally matched families, both proud. In a secluded grassy field, I had spontaneously kicked off my heels and danced under the moonlight. He good-naturedly held my shoes, his eyes filled with nothing but my image. At our grand wedding, he said he would love me forever, but he didn’t say he would only love me forever. 6 Elias was reserved and strictly followed the rules. Before I even realized it, I suddenly noticed he had developed feelings for me. Because every time I spoke to him, the tips of his ears would turn bright red. Sometimes I couldn’t help but laugh and asked if he wanted to listen to me play the piano. At that time, the cherry blossoms were in full bloom. On the tree-lined campus path, students walked in twos and threes. I walked a long way with him. The hill behind the school was next to the train tracks, and cargo trains always passed by. That day, under the setting sun, the light flowed across his cheeks. Behind us was the deafening roar of the train. Elias touched my hand, seemingly afraid I would be startled by the noise. He reached out and covered my ears. His fingertips were warm. Right at that moment, the boy opened his lips and said a sentence. I asked him what he said, but he didn’t make a sound. Later, sitting in the car as it drove toward the residential enclave, I rested my hand against my forehead and suddenly smiled. Actually, after knowing Elias for a while, I had learned sign language and lip-reading. If I wasn’t mistaken, what Elias said then was, “I like you.” The boy’s love was earnest, but I felt despicable. He didn’t even know I was already married. Someone like him, bright and clean as the moon, could never understand the unspoken games played within elite families. 7 For a long time, Elias knew I suffered from insomnia at night, so he would take a cab to my house to read me stories. I didn’t cross any physical boundaries with him. Sometimes I even felt a bit self-destructive. I didn’t erase Alexander’s presence from the house, but interestingly enough, Alexander’s footprint in this house wasn’t that significant anyway. He was probably having too much fun outside, and later, while I maintained a calm facade, I had already distanced myself emotionally. Just like today, Elias read me a fairy tale as usual. I was raised by nannies when I was little. My parents’ love was there, but it didn’t feel deep. The classmates at my international school started competing with each other at age eight. My overly premature entry into adult life meant I wasn’t really exposed to fairy tales. I blinked and asked Elias: “So, the huntsman wanted to kill Snow White, but in the end, he let her go. Would Snow White forgive the huntsman?” He was used to answering my questions every day, so he wasn’t surprised. Without a moment’s hesitation, he answered directly: “She would.” “Why?” I asked him back. “If I were Snow White, I would never forgive. The person who wanted to kill me should burn in hell forever, never seeing the light of day.” “But why shouldn’t someone who realizes their mistake and turns back be forgiven?” he said from half a meter away. I don’t know what I was thinking in that moment. Since birth, I had never really cared about anything involving money. People around me flattered me, sought my favor; I had my own circle. Some people behaved recklessly, wildly, and even played some very intense games. Although I didn’t participate, I had seen so much of it that for a long time, I was used to it. I suddenly stood up, tilted my head, and kissed Elias on the cheek. His snow-white skin instantly turned beet red. His eyes shone with unshed tears as he blinked his large eyes: “Abby… Abby…” My chest filled with a warm sensation: “Elias, do you like me?” Even the boy’s neck turned bright red. 8 I didn’t expect Alexander to rush back. At that moment, I was wearing a loose sweater, reading a book under the lamp. He first scanned the room. Finding no one else, he relaxed and walked over to me. He casually took off his watch, his voice gentle: “Sorry, Abby. I didn’t tell you the truth. I was actually with Henry today.” Henry was Serena’s husband. I didn’t like him very much. Simply because Serena once had someone she was interested in, but it was an arranged marriage, and personal feelings were the least important factor. Henry had dealt with that man, and the man’s outcome wasn’t great; he fled abroad. When he left, he stubbornly asked Henry to treat Serena well, saying Serena was the best girl in the world and needed to be protected completely. That man never blamed Serena, nor did he blame Henry. When he left, he only took a book Serena had given him. Later, Serena didn’t have a very good life. Henry was arrogant and rebellious. Marrying her, aside from business needs, was also about showing her who was boss. Henry’s humiliation never made Serena cry. But I saw her in her vulnerable moments. On the day the man left, she hid in her room alone, looking up at the sky. The corners of her eyes were red. It seemed that character flaws weren’t a big deal among the men in their circle. Even if Alexander knew I was cold toward Henry, he wouldn’t say it to my face, but internally he felt Henry did nothing wrong. Many things, once they become commonplace, are taken for granted. I flipped through the fairy tale book and smiled faintly: “It’s okay. It’s just business.” Alexander reached out to touch my forehead, but pulled back because he was cold and smelled of perfume. “I’ll go take a shower first.” The smile was still on my face as he turned around. But when I saw the half-peeled orange on the cabinet, a sudden chill hit me. A massive shadow loomed over me, and I looked up. Alexander’s face looked normal; I couldn’t tell if he was happy or angry. “Abby, I remember there were no oranges in the house when I left. Did you tell someone to go out and buy them?” Even though he knew I didn’t like oranges, which was why they never appeared in the house, he still considerately gave me an excuse. I only needed to play along, and on the surface, we would probably go back to our old routine. “Alexander, when Serena called me, you heard it, didn’t you?” I put down the book and looked straight at his face. “That’s why you came back so suddenly.” Serena probably thought my comment about “not staying clean” was just a joke, because she couldn’t imagine someone as rigid as me keeping someone on the side. But Alexander knew I wasn’t the type to make that kind of joke. So he left the party, braving the wind and rain to come back. Hearing my words, Alexander’s eyes darkened, looking like spilled ink. 9 He casually tossed the orange onto the floor, his back exuding a chilling aura. I propped my head on my hand and pulled the blanket over me. Thunder rumbled, and lightning flashed. It made both our faces look a bit pale. After a long time, Alexander turned back around. He had reined in all his emotions and silently opened his cigarette case, asking if I minded. He rarely touched these things because he had incredible self-control and despised such crutches. Outside, the rain poured down. I nodded. He lit a cigarette, put it in his mouth, took a deep drag that burned half the cigarette, and finally calmed the suffocating anger in his chest. He asked me when I started seeing someone else. I answered truthfully. Alexander frowned deeply. After a while, he took a deep breath: “Abby, I thought you wouldn’t.” Why was Alexander so certain I wouldn’t play these high-society games? It was because I had once stumbled upon my mother cheating. The people in our families always seemed bound by interests; love was just icing on the cake, something dispensable. But my mother was different. She seemed to truly love my father. Many people teased her for being a hopeless romantic, and it was my mother who made me feel that love was sacred. But in the end, even my mother was blinded by this flashy world. She told me: “Fidelity is the least important thing, because we live in the center of a vortex.” But my mother’s courage back then remained etched in my heart. I thought someone always had to do what they believed was right. Alexander knew me too well. He knew I loved him. I was different from everyone else—nicely put, I was principled; bluntly put, I was stubborn. So, the fact that I had someone on the side caught him completely off guard. 10 But Alexander was still Alexander. He reached out and placed his hand over mine, feeling my pulse: “Abby, when are you going to let me meet this person? Let me vet him for you.” I pretended not to hear the probe in his words—whether the person I was keeping was true love or just to stave off loneliness. If it was the latter, he might breathe a sigh of relief. He probably hoped I would say those words voluntarily. After all, I had said long ago that we were childhood sweethearts, comrades, the two people who understood each other best in this world. Alexander wasn’t stupid. During those years when his family was unstable, I stayed completely devoted to him. My love for him was unquestionable, a pure sincerity unmatched by any of his later confidantes. I had long said that on the path Alexander and I walked in our youth, there would be no latecomers. What they saw was CEO Vance, the successful man. But once, he was just a young boy whose ears turned red over a declaration of love. “Alexander, you don’t need to test me. Let’s get a divorce.” I finally managed to say these words smoothly. It took me a full five years to reach this day. Alexander will probably never know how pathetic and heartbroken I was when his first “understanding companion” appeared. The girl’s smile was bright, Alexander was indulgent and doting, his brow relaxed in a way I had never seen. Novelty is always lethal. Probably out of despair, I fell severely ill, lying in a hospital bed, hooked up to an IV. I listened to the nurses gossiping. They talked about how romantic Alexander was, buying 8,888 roses just to make a woman smile. They seemed to forget the existence of Mrs. Vance, as if in a tabloid scandal, the latecomer is always the pitiful one. Alexander was so caught up in his pleasure then, completely lacking his later calm indifference, that he failed to notice my abnormal state several times. I was proud by nature and absolutely refused to show weakness. But that night, my tears soaked the blanket. I felt a suffocating tightness in my chest that was agonizing and despairing. For a moment, I even thought I would die. So I called Alexander. It was a girl who answered, telling me Alexander was in the shower. She asked what Mrs. Vance needed. Probably because the illness was tormenting me, my attitude was very poor. I ordered her to give the phone to Alexander. The girl didn’t listen; she just cried. Alexander coaxed her and asked who was on the phone. When she told him, Alexander took the phone in silence. At that moment, I actually still held a glimmer of hope. Love really tortures the heart. I could feel my heart being lifted high. But he only told me: “Abby, you can’t be like Serena.” Serena and Henry’s situation was very ugly at the time, causing Henry a lot of grief. Serena couldn’t touch Henry, so she went after the women around him. During that time, whoever messed with Henry was unlucky. Everyone in the circle knew about it, and Henry lost a lot of face. Instantly, I felt my heart being grabbed by someone, carelessly tossed from a high building, shattering into pieces. At night, the tears that flowed to my lips were bitter. Probably realizing his words were too harsh, he softened his voice and asked me: “Abby, are you afraid of the dark?” The girl beside him let out a soft laugh and whined coquettishly. I hid the phone under my pillow. I didn’t say another word. For the first time, I truly realized that Alexander was a good childhood friend, a good strategist. But I made a fatal mistake. I thought our shallow affection could defy the family’s face and unspoken rules. That night, I wasn’t uncomfortable for long. The nurses soon noticed something was wrong with me, and after a frantic rescue, I barely kept my life. A few days later, Alexander messaged and called me, saying he drank too much that night and took out his frustration over Henry’s complaints on me. At that time, I looked down at the IV in my hand, leaned against the soft pillow, and watched the leaves slowly falling outside the window. “Alexander, I am Abby Sterling, the eldest daughter of the Sterling family. I know deeply that the bond between us isn’t just you and me. It’s billion-dollar collaborations, it’s a century of friendship.” I replied submissively. Alexander didn’t say a word. He took a deep breath: “Abby, you seem to have grown up.” I didn’t speak again.

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My mom once dumped the richest man in our city. Eight years later, I beat up his son. My teacher forced my mom to get on her knees and beg for forgiveness. The billionaire pushed open the classroom door and froze. “I used to treat you like a princess, terrified you’d melt if I didn’t hold you tight enough. And you’re on your f***ing knees?” “Sarah, whose pride are you trashing right now?” 1 I never had a dad. I didn’t even know any of my extended family. As long as I could remember, it was just my mom raising me. She worked the night shift at a convenience store and often came home very late. So, she asked our neighbor, Mrs. Higgins, to add an extra plate for me when she made dinner for her own granddaughter. It wasn’t a handout, of course. My mom paid Mrs. Higgins for my meals every month. But Mrs. Higgins would take that money and turn around to buy me milk and fresh fruit. She constantly sighed about how hard my mom worked and told me not to tell her about the extra treats. I’d nod, and she’d praise me for being such a good girl. Honestly, I just felt that if I was good, it would make things a little easier for my mom. At school, I was the most invisible kid in the class. I paid attention during lessons, but I never raised my hand or showed off. My classmates called me the “Little Mute” because they thought I didn’t like to talk. The truth was, I just liked listening to them talk. In third grade, the most popular topic of conversation was everyone’s families. Some kids would broadcast everything—from their dad’s hemorrhoids to their mom fighting off his mistress. There was a boy in my class named Connor Hayes. He was a new transfer student, and he constantly complained about his CEO dad. He said his dad had a temper like a rabid dog and a face as cold as a widower. He said his dad never had time for him; it was just drivers and nannies at home every day. He said his dad only cared about money. For his birthday, he just had his secretary drop off a black Amex card. … Long story short, he hated his dad. But I envied him for having one. I didn’t know why, but out of all the kids in class, I wanted to be close to Connor the most. Because I didn’t have a dad, and rumor had it, Connor didn’t have a mom. In a way, we were the same kind of different. One day, while we were lining up to go home, Connor was complaining about how terrible his dad’s cooking was. I couldn’t help but chime in: “My mom makes really good desserts.” If he just talked to me, I thought, I could bring him some of my mom’s desserts. But Connor turned his head and glared at me viciously. “What’s that supposed to mean?” I looked at him, confused. “You’re making fun of me for not having a mom, right?” Connor shoved me hard, his face twisted in anger. I fell hard onto the pavement. While I was still in shock, my homeroom teacher, Ms. Evans, yelled from behind: “Chloe! Are you blind? You’re ruining the line formation! Get up right now!” I had no choice but to slowly pick myself up and brush the dirt off my clothes. Ever since I spoke to Connor that day after school, I inexplicably became the thorn in his and his little posse’s side. Every time he walked past my desk, he’d pinch my arm through my shirt. If we crossed paths in the hallway, he’d purposely ram his shoulder into mine. Not to mention, he was always surrounded by a gang of followers. Every time I walked by, they would yell out of nowhere: “Chloe, the Little Mute, what a loser.” Then they’d make weird, mocking noises with their mouths. I gathered my courage and decided to tell the teacher. However, when I went to Ms. Evans’s office, she was sitting cross-legged, holding her phone. I didn’t know who she was talking to, but it was “Mr. Hayes” this and “Mr. Hayes” that, and her whole face was lit up with a smile. I stood at the door for ten minutes, and she didn’t even notice me. The bell rang. The next period was English. I had no choice but to go back to class. Our English teacher had assigned an essay that day. The prompt was: “My Father.” I didn’t know how to start, so I sat there staring at a blank page for the entire period. The sky outside was an ashy gray, looking like it was about to rain, making everyone feel gloomy. Connor, however, was ecstatic. He announced to the whole class that his dad was coming to pick him up today. When school let out, it started pouring. In a cruel twist of irony, out of the entire massive school campus, Connor and I were the only two kids left without anyone to pick us up. The security guard brought us into the guardhouse. Connor looked furious. He kept yelling into his smartwatch: “I don’t care! I don’t want to hear your excuses! You have to come get me!” Then he dropped his wrist and started stomping the floor violently, thump-thump-thump. I thought he looked like an angry, unreasonable little monkey. I don’t know how much time passed, but the Hayes family’s driver finally appeared outside the guardhouse. “I don’t want you. Where is my dad?!” The little tyrant threw a tantrum at the driver outside the window. Looking troubled, the driver made a phone call. Not long after, a tall man holding a massive black umbrella walked over at an unhurried pace. The sky was still dark, and the wind was howling outside— Although the umbrella obscured his face, you could tell from his straight, imposing posture that he possessed a calm confidence, unafraid of any storm. Connor jumped up, rushed out of the guardhouse, and threw himself toward the man. The man reached out a single hand and effortlessly caught Connor by the collar of his jacket, stopping him mid-air. It was a hand that looked powerful and safe—large, with pronounced knuckles. It looked exactly like a father’s hand should. The man set Connor down. Holding the umbrella with one hand, he tilted it so it mostly covered Connor. Then, without hesitation, he smacked the back of Connor’s head. It was a crisp, solid thwack, like slapping a ripe watermelon. I stared, a little dazed. Connor didn’t mind. Instead, he suddenly turned around and shot me a smug, gloating smile. “Loser.” He taunted me with a funny face. “Have fun waiting by yourself!” 2 I ended up just staying in the guardhouse. I practically finished all my homework before the torrential rain finally stopped. The security guard, Mr. Miller, even shared his dinner with me—a delicious basket of steamed buns. I thanked him and walked back to the apartment my mom and I rented. I did a quick sweep with the mop, read a chapter of a book, and my mom finally came home. The bedroom door pushed open, and my mom poked half her body in, smiling brightly: “Hey sweetie, why aren’t you asleep yet?” I instantly noticed she was hiding her other arm behind the door. “Mom! Did you hurt your left hand?” She scratched her head: “You’ve got sharp eyes, kiddo. 20/20 vision for sure.” I asked her what happened. “A box fell on it at work,” she sighed. “It’s fine now, but I can’t use my left hand for a couple of weeks.” “Does that mean you can stay home and rest for those couple of weeks?” I asked carefully. “What kind of generous capitalist do you think I work for? Taking two weeks off? Do I still want a job?” I lowered my eyes, feeling a bit upset. “Ta-da! Look what I got!” My mom suddenly raised her voice, quickly pulling out a container of roast duck and a can of beer from behind her back to change the subject. “My boss actually gave this to me.” “Were you planning on eating it all by yourself before you saw me?” I asked quietly. She scratched her cheek. “Am I that kind of person?” I had to remind her of the numerous “cold cases” where she had secretly eaten takeout, drank boba, and binge-watched TV shows in the living room while I was asleep… In the dim light, we polished off the roast duck. I suddenly remembered seeing Connor’s dad today, so I softly asked: “Mom, what kind of person was my dad?” I knew my mom didn’t like talking about my dad. But after a moment of silence, she actually told me: He had a bad temper. He spent all his time working. To solve problems, he only knew how to throw around black credit cards… “What did he look like? Did he have big hands?” “Pretty big. He was pretty tall too.” My mom burst out laughing. “Why are you asking?” I wanted to hear her say more, but my mom’s voice went flat: “Kiddo, knowing these things is useless. He’s dead.” I had to ask one last question with pleading eyes: “Did Dad love me back then?” She stroked my hair, her voice softening. “Go to sleep, sweetie.” I don’t know why, but her smiling face looked so sad. The next day, I got to school early and finished writing the English essay I hadn’t completed yesterday. When I turned the essay in, Ms. Evans actually took mine and read it aloud to the whole class as a model essay. “My Father” My father often has a stern face and always looks unhappy. My father is always very busy and has no time to take care of me, but I know he is always by my side. My father is the best father in the world. Whenever it rains, he drops all his work to come to school and pick me up. His hands are so big, just like his big black umbrella, capable of shielding me and my mother from the storms of the entire world… After school, Connor found me, his face filled with rage: “You thief! You clearly wrote about my dad.” He reached out to shove me. I quickly backed away, but he chased after me, pinning me against the wall at the back of the classroom, yelling fiercely: “Thief!” I suddenly felt a surge of anger. I used all my strength to shove him forward. I was actually taller and stronger than him. He fell hard onto the floor, his face immediately turning black as he started cursing at me. I had never heard so many vicious words in my life! The new and old grudges combined. Not only did I not let him go, but I straddled him, throwing a punch for every curse word he spat. By the time we came to our senses, Ms. Evans had rushed into the classroom. She let out a shriek, yanked me off Connor, and held him, comforting him for a long time. Connor put on a fake crying act, whimpering a few times, and cried out emotionally: “Ms. Evans, my dad entrusted me to you. I’ve always seen you as a mother. You’re all I have left, boo-hoo-hoo.” Ms. Evans turned her head and glared at me fiercely: “Chloe! Right now, immediately, tell your mother to come to the school!” 3 “Does your daughter have violent tendencies?” Ms. Evans’s voice was shrill. “Look at what she did to Connor!” Connor immediately let out a whimper, pretending to be in extreme pain. Ms. Evans turned to him, her voice turning gentle. “Connor, be a good boy. I called your dad; he’s on his way.” My mom had her left arm in a sling. She was still wearing the green vest from the convenience store, and a cheap baseball cap with the store’s logo. She looked like she had rushed over; her bangs were blown into a messy tangle. She glanced at me and said anxiously, “Chloe is usually very well-behaved. She wouldn’t hit someone for no reason.” Ms. Evans raised her voice. “Are you saying I’m framing your daughter?” “That’s not what I mean,” my mom said quickly. “I just want to hear the child explain what happened.” “Chloe,” Ms. Evans turned to me coldly. “Tell me yourself, what did you do wrong?” I stubbornly pressed my lips together. Ms. Evans seemed furious. “Fine, if you won’t say it, I will.” “When lining up to go home, you broke the rules.” “Your classmates don’t like you. You have absolutely no ability to integrate into the group.” “And now you’ve resorted to assaulting a classmate.” “Earlier, when I asked you, you wouldn’t say a word. You’ve even started being deceitful.” “I’m asking you, do you have any respect for me as your homeroom teacher?” My mom looked at me, her lips moving. “Ms. Evans, there must be some misunderstanding…” Ms. Evans let out a contemptuous laugh. “Since you insist on turning a blind eye to your daughter’s faults, I have nothing more to say.” She firmly placed her thermos on her desk. “I can’t teach her. You need to find another teacher. Go ask around yourself and see which homeroom teacher in this school is willing to take her, and transfer her out immediately.” My mom turned pale as soon as she heard that. Although she wasn’t a very conventional mother, she was extremely strict when it came to education. Usually, if I scored below an 80 on a test, she wouldn’t hesitate to give me a spanking. To her, education was more important than her own life. “That’s not true.” My mom was starting to panic. She pleaded, “Ms. Evans, please give Chloe one more chance. She’s young; she doesn’t know better.” Ms. Evans turned her head away, let out a cold hmph, and faced the wall. My mom continued to plead bitterly, saying almost everything she could think of. But no matter what my mom said, Ms. Evans just told her to find someone else to take me. But in a school, what homeroom teacher would willingly take a student that someone else rejected? “Please, have some mercy.” My mom raised her injured arm. “I will discipline Chloe properly when we get home. Please don’t give up on her.” Ms. Evans turned back, but still spoke critically, “How can I trust you?” My mom paused, as if making up her mind. “Ms. Evans, I’m usually very busy with work and don’t have time to pay attention to Chloe’s mental state. She’s always been alone, and no one taught her what she should or shouldn’t do.” I stared at my mom, stunned. It was the first time I had ever seen her speak so formally. But my mom gripped the armrest of a chair, slowly knelt onto the floor, and pleaded once more. “Ms. Evans, the person who made the mistake is actually me, her mother. I failed to raise her right; it’s not Chloe’s fault. Please, give her one more chance.” As she spoke, her shoulders, which were usually thin but straight, hunched forward deeply. I stared at her, paralyzed. This was my mom—the woman who was usually joking around, never taking anything seriously; the woman who was kneeling on the floor, humbling herself to beg the teacher not to give up on me; the woman who taught me to be an honest person and to work hard in my studies… A difficult life had never crushed her, but at this moment, she surrendered her dignity for me. I couldn’t hold on any longer. I immediately hugged my mom’s shoulders and knelt down beside her. “I’m sorry, it’s my fault. Mom, it’s not your fault.” I had never regretted anything so much in my life. Tears poured from my eyes, and I felt like my heart was breaking into pieces. Ms. Evans seemed startled too, and she lowered her voice. “That’s not what I meant…” “I’m sorry, Ms. Evans.” I started crying too. “I promise I’ll never hit anyone again.” Amidst the commotion, Connor suddenly yelled excitedly, “Dad, you’re finally here.” Ms. Evans was startled. She quickly pushed us aside, bent over, and hurriedly applied lipstick using a small mirror on her desk. The first thing I heard was a cold voice: “Connor, tell me yourself, what trouble have you caused this time?” The office door was pushed open, and footsteps approached from a distance. The man’s voice seemed to carry a mix of exhaustion and annoyance: “Confess right now, before I have to hit you.” I felt my mom’s body stiffen. She turned her head for a glance, then immediately lowered it, as if she had seen something unbelievable. For a moment, I felt like she wanted to hide under the desk. “Mr. Hayes.” Ms. Evans stood up with a radiant smile. “You misunderstood. Connor was the one being bullied today. Please don’t scold him.” The man stopped casually behind her. “Who bullied him?” “Her.” Ms. Evans pointed at me, sighing. “There’s something wrong with this girl’s head.” I didn’t dare argue back. I could only turn around, lay prostrate on the floor, and say, “I’m sorry.” The man crouched down. He looked at the bruises on Connor’s face, his tone completely flat. “You got beat up? Does it hurt?” Connor quickly let out a pitiful “Mhm.” The man frowned, yet said mercilessly, “Useless.” After criticizing Connor, his sharp eyes swept toward me. “A little girl, getting into fights at such a young age. Didn’t your parents teach you any manners?” I was glared at by his dark, menacing eyes, almost scared to tears again, and could only bite my lip tightly. “She really lacks proper upbringing at home,” Ms. Evans quickly interjected. “I’ve already lectured her, and her mother even knelt down to apologize. Sigh… Mr. Hayes, how do you think we should handle this?” “How to handle it?” The man slowly repeated the question, his voice dripping with unmistakable coldness. Hearing this, I immediately sat up, scrambled forward blindly, and grabbed the hem of his suit jacket. “Sir, I didn’t mean to. I swear, I’ll never bother him again.” Mr. Hayes looked down at me, suddenly frowning. With one hand, he pinched my chin, his gaze revealing a mix of confusion and bewilderment. “Why do you… look so much like…” He didn’t finish his sentence. After a long silence, he just shook his head. “Ms. Evans, let it go.” Connor, however, shrieked, “How can we just let it go?” “Then what do you want?” Mr. Hayes’s tone was impatient. “I want Chloe to apologize to me in front of the whole class tomorrow.” Connor rattled on. “She also mocked me for not having a mom last time.” Mr. Hayes’s face turned dark as a storm cloud, while my mom’s face went completely white. She sneakily glanced at Connor, her eyes filled with pain and conflict. She seemed to want to say something but bit her lip, burying her head even lower, her body trembling slightly. I was a bit worried and quickly squeezed my mom’s hand tightly. “Enough, you little brat.” Mr. Hayes raised his hand and grabbed Connor by the collar. “I think you really are asking for a beating.” “Getting beat up by a little girl is embarrassing enough, and you want the whole class to laugh at you?” Ms. Evans seemed completely surprised that the matter would be dropped so easily. She pursed her lips and said, “Since Mr. Hayes isn’t pursuing it, Chloe’s mom, you should apologize to Mr. Hayes.” My mom didn’t say a word, trembling even more violently. Ms. Evans was getting impatient. “Chloe’s mom? Does muteness run in your family?” Mr. Hayes seemed to finally notice the woman still kneeling on the floor. He turned his head casually, and with just one glance, he froze. He released his grip on Connor’s collar and stood up instantly. “I’m sorry.” My mom finally spoke softly, her head still buried low. The man’s lips parted, as if it took all his strength to call out a name: “Sarah… is that you?” I had no idea how he knew my mom’s name. “You’ve mistaken me for someone else.” My mom immediately turned her face away, but her left hand, trapped in the cast, agonizingly clenched into a fist, as if enduring something terrible. “It’s you.” Mr. Hayes stared fixedly at my mom. The expression on his face was indiscernible—whether he was crying or laughing, hateful or joyous, his entire face twisted terribly. “Sarah—” He seemed to chew the name up, his eyes locked onto my mom. “When did you get back?” My mom turned her head away, refusing to meet his gaze. Even Ms. Evans noticed something was wrong. Her face changed instantly. “Does Mr. Hayes know her?” “More than know her.” He seemed utterly furious, unable to hold back any longer. He grabbed my mom with one hand and pulled her up from the floor. “Eight years since we last saw each other, and this is how you look? Poor and pathetic?” “Sarah, I treated you like a princess back then. I was terrified you’d melt if I didn’t hold you tight enough, and today you’re kneeling on the fucking floor?” “Whose pride are you trashing right now?” “Get up!” After pulling my mom up, she immediately grabbed my hand, looking like she wanted to drag me away as fast as possible. But Mr. Hayes maintained a tight grip on my mom’s thin wrist. Under everyone’s gaze, this tall, imposing man’s eyes actually grew red-rimmed. “Sarah, after all these years, won’t you even look at me?” He seemed to realize something and suddenly looked at me. “How old are you?” I nervously darted my eyes between the two of them. I was actually eight years old. I didn’t know why my mom lied about my age. But I figured she must have had her reasons. Mr. Hayes, hearing her answer, looked devastated. “You… you got married?” 4 Perhaps sensing the tension, Connor started groaning and clutching his stomach, complaining that he felt sick. Ms. Evans quickly reminded Mr. Hayes to take his son to the hospital for a check-up. My mom gave Connor a deeply concerned look, bit her lip, and followed them to the hospital. The doctor said Connor was fine. My mom wanted to pay the medical bill, but Mr. Hayes wouldn’t let her. He said pointedly, “Since you haven’t shown any concern for eight years… there’s no need to fake it now.” After the check-up, Connor demanded his dad buy him roasted chicken wings. My mom stood by for a long time, looking like she wanted to say something, her eyes entirely glued to Connor. And Mr. Hayes’s eyes were entirely glued to my mom. I rubbed my stomach and told my mom I was hungry. As if suddenly remembering, she tightly grabbed my hand and got ready to leave, but Mr. Hayes wouldn’t let us. I don’t know what he said, but my mom reluctantly agreed to have dinner together. She just looked like a wilted flower. I sat across from Connor, and they sat across from each other. This was my first time at a fried chicken place. I buried my head in my bowl and kept eating. “Has this child never had a full meal?” Mr. Hayes’s tone sounded inexplicably sour. “Does her dad not want to feed her?” My mom let out a cold laugh but didn’t say anything. I lifted my head from my bowl, looking gloomy. “My dad is dead.” Mr. Hayes’s dull eyes lit up again. I didn’t know what he was plotting. Halfway through the meal, they started arguing again about some topic I couldn’t catch. Mainly, it was Mr. Hayes speaking with a sharp, passive-aggressive edge. It was uncomfortable to listen to. My mom ignored him and told me to finish eating quickly. Halfway through, Connor made a fuss about needing to go to the restroom to wash his hands. My mom patted his head and took him to the restroom. I found it a bit strange. My mom actually really disliked other people’s kids. Just now at the hospital, and while eating, my mom had been proactively taking care of him. She almost seemed to have forgotten about me… Mr. Hayes glanced up at me and said, “That’s your second bucket. Can you really still eat?” I sheepishly put down my chicken wing. Mr. Hayes suddenly pulled out a napkin and wiped my hands for me. I secretly watched him. I suddenly noticed that this Mr. Hayes had exceptionally long eyelashes. When he looked down and didn’t speak, he was as handsome as a movie star. In a flash, he seemed to transform from an overbearing CEO into a disappointed, wounded middle-aged man. “Was your dad… good to your mom before?” he asked me in a low, bitter voice. I had never met my dad, so I didn’t know how to answer. At that moment, my mom returned, standing at the restaurant exit and calling my name. I quickly stood up. “You should ask my mom… but you need to use a nicer tone.” “Chloe.” Mr. Hayes suddenly grabbed me. I looked at him in surprise. I had no idea how he knew my name. He slipped a piece of paper into my hand. Mr. Hayes whispered to me, “This is my contact info. If you ever run into a situation where someone bullies your mom like today, call the number on here. Uncle will come, no matter how busy he is.” He hesitated for a moment, looking at me, and added reluctantly, “If someone bullies you, you can call too.” My mom firmly declined Mr. Hayes’s offer to give us a ride. She held my little hand as we walked home. I decided to ask her directly, “Mom, do you like my classmate?” “Yes,” she answered. I felt a bit sad, so I decided to badmouth him a little. “Mom, don’t let his pathetic act fool you. He’s actually just a really spoiled, angry little monkey.” My mom smiled. “Why did Chloe beat him up today, and say he doesn’t have a mom?” I quickly recounted the whole story from start to finish. My mom fell silent for a moment before saying, “How about this… why don’t we invite him over for fried chicken wings this weekend, Chloe? I’ll make some really good ones, and we can explain things to him face-to-face?” I was reluctant, but I nodded anyway. We walked a bit further, and my mom asked hesitantly, “What… what did Mr. Hayes say to you?” I hesitated a bit, but I told my mom and then asked, “Do you hate Mr. Hayes, Mom?” My mom said “Mhm.” “Then can I keep his business card?” I looked up at her. She hesitated. “Keep it… but if you need something, come to me. You are not allowed to go to him.” A question suddenly popped into my head: “Mom… did you and Mr. Hayes have some kind of relationship before?” Under the moonlight, my mom’s expression seemed dark. After a long pause, she finally spoke: “We used to be… in love. Now… he probably wants to get revenge on me.” Before going to bed, I went to close the living room window. But under the window, I saw a parked Rolls Royce. I had seen Mr. Hayes driving it today, and even the license plate was the same. Was Mr. Hayes downstairs? My heart started pounding. My mom said he was an enemy, so was he keeping an eye on us? I pulled out the business card he gave me earlier that day. It read: Arthur Hayes. It turned out his name was Arthur Hayes. I felt like I had seen that name before. Where had I seen it? Oh… at my mom’s place. On the nightstand in her bedroom, there was a framed poem— “The light skiff has passed ten thousand mountains.” (Note: The Chinese character for “ten thousand mountains” is Wan Guo Shan, which was the original Chinese name. The English name Arthur Hayes is used here, but the poem reference loses its direct connection. A localized alternative could be a framed quote or a special memento related to the name Arthur, like a King Arthur legend quote, but to keep the poem vibe, we’ll adapt.) “The once and future king.” I tilted my head in confusion, then placed the business card on the coffee table. I had a feeling… he didn’t seem like someone who came to get revenge on my mom.

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I picked up a beautiful man. I lived frugally, just to buy him a five-figure watch because he said he liked it. But one day, I saw him casually toss the watch into a lake while talking nonchalantly on the phone: “It was just for fun. I didn’t expect her to be so gullible. “Let’s make another bet. A ten-thousand-dollar leather bag. Let’s see if she’ll buy it.” Later, I decided I didn’t want him anymore. But everyone said the heir to the Sterling family had gone mad, searching the entire lake just to find a broken watch. 1 It was very late by the time I finished my part-time job and got home. As soon as I opened the door, I was pulled into a warm embrace. “You’re back.” Julian buried his face in my neck, nuzzling me: “I missed you so much.” I blushed: “The coffee shop was really busy today… I accidentally worked late. Have you eaten?” He blinked his eyes: “No, I was waiting for you.” I had picked Julian up off the street. The day I found him, it was pouring rain. He was crouching outside the coffee shop, soaking wet, like an abandoned puppy. “Audrey, look at that guy. He’s been sitting there for days.” My coworker pointed at him: “He looks so pitiful. Should we let him come inside and sit?” But the coffee shop was about to close. I thought for a moment, poured a steaming cup of coffee, pushed the door open, went outside, and crouched in front of him. “Hello.” That was the first thing I said to him. “It’s cold out. Have a cup of coffee.” Julian looked up, and I realized he was incredibly good-looking. Too good-looking to look like someone who would be homeless on the streets. “Thank you.” But he blinked, his expression innocent: “I seem… to have forgotten who I am. Can you take me home?” At that time, I was deceived by his appearance. I actually took him home. 2 The sound of pots and pans clinking came from the kitchen. While I was busy, I asked: “Julian, what do you want to eat?” He stood outside the kitchen door: “Whatever you make is fine.” Julian—that was the name I found in his wallet. Written on a slip of paper. But the entire wallet contained nothing but that single slip of paper. I considered taking him to the police station. But he was incredibly resistant to the idea. “Don’t take me there,” Julian hugged me tightly, as if trying to merge into me, his voice trembling slightly. “Audrey, please, let me stay with you.” He was like a newborn child, clutching onto a hard-won piece of kindness, begging humbly. My heart suddenly softened. I took him in, and it’s been several months. Even the neighbors knew I had a very handsome boyfriend. It’s just that he rarely went out, and no one knew what he did for a living. I didn’t know either. Every time I brought up helping him find his family, Julian would react strongly, hugging me and acting cute. He always said: “Audrey, don’t abandon me.” 3 I bought Julian a phone so he could easily contact me. When I was at work, he loved to spam me with messages. The content was always the same, things that made me blush and my heart race: [Audrey, your bed is so soft. Can I sleep on it next time?] [Audrey, next time you wake up to go to work, can you wake me up? I want a good morning kiss.] [Audrey, please don’t work overtime tonight. Let’s go shopping.] I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry, but I couldn’t help smiling when I replied. A coworker leaned over slyly: “Ooh, the iron tree is blossoming! Our Audrey finally has a boyfriend?” Of course, I didn’t dare say it was Julian. I just played along: “Mhm… we haven’t been dating for long.” She gave a “say no more” look and said: “Honeymoon phase, honeymoon phase. You have to let us meet him someday.” I nodded while typing a reply to Julian: “Okay. “Come find me.” 4 I walked arm-in-arm with Julian as we went shopping. He seemed very interested in the mall, constantly asking about this and that. Until we reached the elevator, and he wanted to go upstairs. I was a bit hesitant: “Upstairs… there’s nothing really to shop for.” Julian blinked: “Why?” Upstairs was where the luxury goods were sold. Working two jobs just to make ends meet, I naturally didn’t dare go up there. I remembered helping a classmate pick something up from a boutique once, and the sales associate looked at me with a complex expression: “Name. Double-check it. Don’t get it wrong.” But Julian really wanted to go. He pulled my hand: “Let’s just go look. Audrey, please?” I ultimately agreed. Once upstairs, I felt a difference. Julian seemed completely natural. Coupled with his outstanding looks, even his simple, worn-out clothes looked high-end on him. A sales associate’s eyes lit up: “Mr. Sterling, you…” “What Mr. Sterling?” Julian frowned and tightened his grip on my hand: “Audrey, do you like those bags?” Actually, hearing that “Mr. Sterling,” my heart skipped a beat. But Julian’s actions brought me back to my senses slightly: “I… not really.” That sales associate was the exact same one who had mocked me before. But right now, she was extremely attentive, constantly glancing at Julian while enthusiastically pitching to me: “Miss, are you sure you don’t want to take a look? We have a lot of new arrivals in our store. Other places haven’t even gotten them yet.” I turned her down and pulled Julian downstairs. He looked at me, confused: “What’s wrong, Audrey? Did something happen?” I looked at his handsome face, momentarily losing myself. “Julian, before… did you come here often?” 5 Actually, it wasn’t that I hadn’t thought about what would happen if Julian remembered his past. But I had never thought about what would happen if he were very wealthy—worlds apart from me—and where we would go from there. “I haven’t,” Julian ignored the stares of passersby, leaning down to hug me. “Audrey, do you not like it there? Then we’ll go somewhere else. “Audrey, look at me. Let’s go.” Only then did I hold his hand: “Okay.” As I led him out of the mall, I was still thinking that if Julian really was very wealthy, I wasn’t after his money anyway. I had a clear conscience; I was just dating him. But… what if he still wanted to be with me then? I was lost in thought. I completely failed to notice that on the face of Julian beside me, not a trace of that obedient puppy look could be found. Replaced by a coldness I had never seen before. 6 I was searching for a watch on my phone. Actually, when we were upstairs, Julian and I had looked at a watch boutique. He held a watch that looked expensive at a glance and gestured towards me: “Audrey, look, does this look good?” I checked the price—five figures, enough to cover several months of rent. Even the sales associate was persuading: “Yes, sir has great taste. This is a popular model in our store, and we only have the last one left.” Julian’s eyes were sparkling, and he looked like he really wanted it. I had no choice but to say: “Then let’s come back and buy it another day.” Then, I pulled him away. But his gaze kept lingering behind. That was when I decided I would buy it for him. “What is Audrey looking at?” Julian pounced over again, and I quickly locked my phone screen: “Nothing.” He humph’d: “Audrey is lying.” Then he picked me up and carried me into my bedroom: “Your punishment is sleeping with me tonight.” It started raining outside. I was kissed dizzy by Julian. The pitter-patter of the rain covered the sounds of our kisses. Before he turned off the light, he asked hoarsely in my ear: “…Can I?” I nodded. 7 When the watch arrived, I was in the kitchen cooking. I asked Julian to answer the door. “Audrey! Did you buy this?” I saw a fleeting flash of surprise in his eyes, followed by overwhelming joy. He picked me up: “Audrey, you’re so good to me.” The kitchen was steamy. I told him to get out, but he refused. He turned off the stove, set me on the counter, and leaned down to kiss me. I held his strong waist, kissed until I was in a daze. At that time, it was my first time loving someone like this. Loving him so much I forgot that, besides his name, I knew absolutely nothing about Julian. 8 Julian couldn’t put that watch down. Consequently, he became even more clingy towards me. An hour before my shift ended, I received a call from him: “Getting off work soon, right? I’ll come pick you up, let’s go out and play for a bit.” I coaxed him helplessly: “Julian, I still have an hour left on my shift.” He humph’d: “Don’t care. We haven’t had a date in so long. I’ll wait for you by the lake.” After I hung up, my coworker leaned over slyly again: “Got it, another date. Looks like I have to hurry up today.” “Audrey, you leave early. I’ll cover your shift!” Unable to resist their enthusiasm, I really did take off my apron. Then I touched up my makeup and left the coffee shop, feeling shy and expectant. 9 There were a lot of people by the lake. But I spotted that standout figure at a glance. Julian was wearing the new jacket I bought him, standing by the lake with his back to me, talking on the phone. I was a bit confused. Besides me, who else did he know? So I quietly walked over, wanting to give him a surprise. “Got it, I’ll play a little longer and then head back. “Tsk, do you think I’d actually like a girl who works at a coffee shop? Stop joking, she’s just gullible. “It’s just a watch worth a few tens of thousands. Let’s make another bet. A ten-thousand-dollar leather bag. Let’s see if she’ll buy it. Place your bets, I bet I win.” In that instant, my mind went completely blank. Julian’s voice lacked any of his usual naive sweetness. He was cold and disdainful. The next second, I saw him take off the watch I bought him from his wrist. Then, he casually tossed it into the shimmering lake, without a hint of hesitation in his movements. “The watch is lost. Wearing it really brings down my value.” Julian said, suddenly turning his head. A few steps away, he looked astonished, making eye contact with me. I was completely unaware that I was crying. The person on the other end of Julian’s call was still asking: “Hello? Julian, why aren’t you saying anything? Ten thousand is too low, right? That naive girlfriend of yours is so love-struck, she wouldn’t bet something that big…” But he had already taken a step towards me: “Audrey…” 10 I don’t remember how I left. I only remember Julian’s expression instantly becoming stunned, shocked, and at a loss. “Audrey, no, listen to me, I…” “Julian,” but I only called his name, cutting him off. “I heard everything.” Word for word. The lover who was whispering sweet nothings the day before had just stated this was only a game the next day. He stood coldly on the sidelines, acting superior, watching me, the participant, love him so much I lost my mind. “Audrey.” “Don’t come near me.” I abruptly stepped back twice, as if Julian were a terrifying monster. I looked up at this familiar yet strange man. Those thin lips were saying yesterday: “Sister, don’t abandon me.” Today, they were confidently talking on the phone with someone else, saying: “I bet I win.” So I smiled at him: “Julian, you’re right. “You won the bet.” 11 Julian called me constantly the whole way. I didn’t answer a single one and blocked his number. I knew he was following right behind me. He was tall with long legs; no matter how I ran, he could easily catch up. Even in love, he was just as fearless and arrogant. Halfway there, it started to rain. “Audrey!” He called my name: “It’s raining. Let’s go home. Can we go home and talk about it?” I didn’t look back. He said again: “Audrey, please listen to my explanation, okay?” I still didn’t look back. Until the rain started pouring heavily, pattering on the ground. I clutched my wet clothes and walked to the bottom of my apartment building without ever looking back. Julian followed me the whole way like that. I made eye contact with him through the mirror on the front door. He had gotten rained on too. His black hair drooped, looking obedient and soft. His eyes were wet, tinged with red. His clothes were soaked and clung to his body, revealing his physique. Very similar to the day we first met, yet entirely different. I suddenly stopped. In the mirror, Julian stopped too. He looked slightly panicked because I turned my head. “The day I picked you up, it was raining this heavily too, right?” I smiled, and he seemed to guess what I was going to say: “Audrey, I admit to this, but I…” “That’s enough.” I didn’t want to hear it. Something that was wrong from the start, no matter how smoothly it went, was still wrong. “Julian, I wish I had never met you. I regret picking you up and bringing you home. Just leave. Go back to where you belong.”

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