Author: Momo Chan

I noticed an elegant gift box sitting by the door. My sister burst into the house, fresh from her blind date, and started screaming. “What a complete loser! He makes less than half of what I do, and he actually expects me to stay in this dead-end town and start popping out kids by next year!” Mom and Dad rushed over to comfort her, complaining about how unreliable the matchmaker was. I couldn’t help but murmur softly. “He seemed nice. He drove you all the way home and even brought us gifts.” Phoebe let out a sharp laugh, looking at me with pure disdain. “What? You got a crush on him?” “Makes sense. You never could compete with me. A guy like that is exactly your speed.” She impatiently shoved the man’s contact info toward me. “I am not spending my life rotting in this boring little town. If you want him, take him.” I quietly accepted the contact card. I didn’t bother telling her that the car he just drove her home in belonged to the regional director of my agency. I also happened to know his family owned over thirty rental properties in town. … Phoebe was still fuming when her phone buzzed. She read the text, and her face darkened even more. “He is so annoying. He wants to take me to the movies tomorrow. I already said no, but he just won’t take a hint!” Mom quickly chimed in. “Phoebe, honey, don’t reject him so harshly.” “We live in a small town where everyone knows everyone. If you snap at him today, people will start gossiping tomorrow. They will say you think you are too good for local boys just because you work in Manhattan.” Dad nodded in agreement. “Exactly. Small town politics are complicated. Who knows what kind of connections his family has? If you offend the wrong person, it might make things difficult for you whenever you come back to visit.” Phoebe rolled her eyes. Her gaze suddenly landed on me, her tone dripping with fake charity. “Sophie, you go in my place tomorrow.” “Just cover for me and entertain him. Don’t mess it up.” I didn’t argue. I just nodded silently. No one asked if I wanted to go. In this house, I never had the right to say no. To make sure I didn’t mess up, I stayed up late researching the movie Ross had picked. I filled an entire notebook page with details about the plot, the hidden Easter eggs, and the director’s unique cinematography. The next day, Ross looked visibly surprised when he saw me waiting at the theater. I offered a polite smile. “My sister had a last-minute emergency at work. She asked me to come and apologize in person.” Then, I casually mentioned a few interesting facts about the film. His eyes lit up instantly. “Since you appreciate good cinema, it would be a shame to waste these tickets. Would you like to join me?” After the movie, we stood in the lobby for a long time, deeply engrossed in a discussion about the ending. He insisted on treating me to dinner. The conversation flowed effortlessly. There was absolutely no trace of the arrogant, mansplaining vibe Phoebe had complained about. Instead, he was incredibly attentive. He made sure my water glass was full and asked thoughtful questions about my favorite foods. After dinner, he suddenly guided me into a high-end jewelry boutique next door. He picked out two gorgeous gold pendants. When I saw the price tag approaching four thousand dollars, I froze and immediately tried to decline. He just smiled, shook his head, and handed over his credit card. “I was in a rush yesterday and didn’t get a chance to prepare separate gifts for you and your sister. Keep this one for yourself, and please pass the other one to her for me.” I accepted the jewelry box, fully aware that he still cared about Phoebe’s opinion. It made sense. Phoebe was stunning, a top-tier university graduate, and an HR executive at a massive corporate firm. I was just average. Plain, quiet, and completely ordinary. But I had absolutely no intention of giving that pendant to Phoebe just yet. When I got home, Phoebe glanced at my empty hands and scoffed. “Wow, he didn’t even buy you anything? I told you he was cheap. He takes you out and doesn’t even have the decency to spend a dime.” I ignored her, walked straight into my bedroom, and carefully tucked the jewelry box into my drawer. The moment I sat down, a notification popped up on my phone. Ross had finally accepted the friend request I sent the night before. I reapplied a touch of lip gloss, put on the gold pendant, and snapped a quick selfie for my Instagram story. Less than two minutes later, Ross liked the post. Outside my door, Phoebe was still complaining. “Thank God I sent Sophie. I would have died of boredom. The guy is broke and still has the nerve to chase me. He really doesn’t know his place.” Mom and Dad eagerly agreed. “Of course, sweetie. You are so successful. You are destined for much better things.” “From now on, we will just let Sophie handle his invitations.” I leaned against my bedroom door, feeling completely numb to their words. I was used to it. I was an unexpected pregnancy. Mom and Dad always felt guilty for not giving Phoebe their undivided attention and resources. Growing up, their favorite phrase was: “Sophie, don’t fight with your sister. She is older. Let her have it.” Phoebe got piano lessons, art classes, and expensive tutors. When I asked for a ten-dollar workbook for school, Mom called me a waste of money. Phoebe was now making a huge salary in the city, yet Mom and Dad still secretly transferred her a thousand dollars every month just to help out. Years ago, I secretly bought a bus ticket, hoping to move away and start my own life. My parents found it and shredded it into pieces. That night, I overheard them whispering in the kitchen. “Phoebe is going to marry into a good family one day. We cannot be a burden to her. Sophie is obedient. We will just keep her around to take care of us when we get old.” In their eyes, Phoebe was a delicate princess. I was just the human shield meant to absorb her problems and swallow all the unfairness. A week later, Ross invited Phoebe to go hiking. She rejected him without a second thought and pushed me out the door again. “Sophie, you go. Tell him my project deadline got moved up.” I didn’t complain. I changed into my gym clothes and headed to the trail. During the hike, I kept a steady pace. Whenever Ross fell behind, I would wait for him. I passed him water and offered him a towel when he was sweating. When the trail got steep and rocky, I gently reminded him to watch his step. The entire afternoon felt incredibly natural. I wasn’t trying to flatter him. I was just being myself. When we finally reached the summit, Ross looked out at the view and suddenly spoke. “Your sister isn’t busy. she just looks down on me, doesn’t she?” My chest tightened. Just as I opened my mouth to make an excuse, he laughed. “I sensed something was off the very first time we met. Today just confirmed it.” “Phoebe has never given me the time of day. She certainly wouldn’t be as patient and genuine as you are. I am done trying to force it.” He paused, his eyes turning incredibly serious as he looked at me. “Sophie, you are really special. How about we give this a real shot? Just you and me.” “Ross and I are officially dating.” When I broke the news to Phoebe, I casually pulled the gold pendant out of my pocket and handed it to her. “Here. Consider this a thank you for making me go on those dates.” Phoebe stared at the jewelry, her brow furrowing in deep suspicion. “You bring home maybe three thousand a month after taxes, and you give Mom half of that. How can you afford something like this?” I gave her a sweet, innocent smile. “I dipped into my savings for you. Finding a decent guy in this town is hard. Ross makes good money, and he is a sweet guy. If we get married and budget carefully, we will have a pretty comfortable life.” She laughed, the sound dripping with thick sarcasm. “Wow, so I guess you should be thanking me.” “This is exactly your level of ambition. Picking up the trash I threw away and acting like you struck gold.” I lowered my eyes and stayed quiet. I had been listening to her mockery for over twenty years. I was completely immune to it. Once Ross and I made things official, we started having a standing Friday night dinner date. But lately, I was always running late. It wasn’t my fault. Ever since his messy divorce, my creepy office manager, Mr. Henderson, had been targeting me. Every Friday right before quitting time, he would dump a massive stack of paperwork on my desk. Worse, he would find excuses to brush against my shoulder or touch my hands while “reviewing” my work. One evening, Ross drove straight to my office building so I wouldn’t be late. The moment I walked out the glass doors, Henderson chased after me. He pretended to hand me a folder, deliberately rubbing his fingers across the back of my hand. I didn’t pull away immediately. Instead, I furrowed my brows, putting on a perfectly crafted look of helpless victimhood. I knew Ross had a clear view from the driver’s seat. A deafening honk shattered the quiet parking lot. Ross slammed his car door shut, his eyes burning with absolute fury. “Who the hell are you? Keep your hands off my girlfriend!” Henderson jumped back in sheer panic and practically sprinted back inside the building. The next morning, the office was buzzing with crazy rumors. Henderson had been permanently relocated to a miserable, rundown branch office in the middle of nowhere. My coworkers were whispering that he must have offended someone extremely powerful, because the transfer was immediate and he wasn’t even allowed to pack his own desk. That night, when Ross picked me up, I casually mentioned the office gossip. He looked at me, his eyes softening with warmth. “That was me. I am never letting anyone disrespect you.” That was the night he finally told me the truth about his background. His father was the county commissioner. His mother was the principal of the most elite private academy in the state. “I didn’t mention it during the blind dates because I hate people using me for my family’s money,” he explained softly. “I studied abroad for a few years and had a serious girlfriend. We were together for three years. But right before graduation, she found out I wanted to move back to our hometown to settle down. She called me an unambitious loser and dumped me.” “My parents are getting older, and they really want to see me start a family. That is why I agreed to the matchmaking.” Everything suddenly clicked. No wonder a guy with his looks and wealth was resorting to local blind dates. Ross suddenly reached across the console and took my hand. His voice was thick with emotion. “Sophie, I am telling you all of this because I am not playing games. I am dating you with the intention of marrying you.” Looking into his earnest eyes, I gave him a firm, confident nod. By our second month together, Ross took me to meet his parents. They were incredibly warm and welcoming. They adored me immediately and even slipped a massive cash gift into my purse before we left. Six months flew by, and we finally decided to tie the knot. When I told my parents, they barely looked up from the TV. They casually mentioned that money was tight and they could only give me a thousand dollars for a wedding contribution. I didn’t argue. I went straight to the bank, took out a personal loan, and bumped my wedding fund up to twenty thousand dollars. I refused to let anyone look down on me on my wedding day. More importantly, I refused to give Phoebe and my parents the satisfaction of seeing me look pathetic. The wedding day arrived. Ross’s parents had spent over a hundred and fifty thousand dollars booking the grand ballroom at the most luxurious country club in the county. The guest list was packed with the town’s most influential politicians and business owners. Even the director of my agency showed up, shaking my hand and offering his warmest congratulations. But as the ceremony time approached, my parents were nowhere to be seen. I was standing in the bridal suite, shivering in my heavy gown, feeling my chest tighten with anxiety. Finally, my phone buzzed. It was a text from Mom. [Sophie, we aren’t coming. Phoebe suddenly spiked a high fever. We are driving to the city right now to take care of her.] [Besides, Ross’s parents are just trying to show off by booking that expensive club. We saw the smallest banquet room there once, and it is barely bigger than a closet. We would just be embarrassed if we went. Phoebe’s health is way more important.] My knuckles turned white as I gripped the phone. They hadn’t even bothered to read the wedding invitation properly. They were so subconsciously dismissive of me that they completely wrote off my husband and his family as nobodies. Thank God Ross’s family didn’t care about the slight. If anything, my mother-in-law was fiercely protective of me. Knowing I came into the marriage with very little money, she insisted I take total control of all the cash gifts given by the guests. It totaled over one hundred and twenty thousand dollars. That was four times the amount my parents had secretly set aside for Phoebe’s future wedding. That night, I posted a stunning photo of Ross and me cutting the cake on my Instagram. The family group chat was dead silent. Not a single word of congratulations. A few hours later, Phoebe posted a picture of a bowl of chicken soup. The caption read: [Family will always be your safest harbor.] I wasn’t angry. I didn’t shed a single tear. I had a hundred and twenty thousand dollars in the bank. Money, as it turns out, is the greatest cure for a broken heart. Shortly after we got married, Ross noticed I was exhausted from my daily commute. He surprised me with a brand-new, seventy-thousand-dollar Mercedes SUV. One morning, I was parked outside my office. The sunlight looked beautiful hitting the flowers on the sidewalk, so I snapped a quick picture for my Instagram story. I didn’t realize a tiny piece of the steering wheel logo was in the frame. Phoebe immediately sent me a direct message with three question marks. [Where did you get a car? And a Benz at that?] My stomach dropped. Memories of childhood flooded back. Whenever Phoebe realized I had something nicer than her, she would completely destroy it. I swallowed my anxiety and typed back: [Just carpooling with a coworker.] Her reply was instant and dripping with venom: [LMAO. Doesn’t it make you feel pathetic? Riding your little e-bike to work while your coworker drives a Benz. Stop faking a lifestyle you don’t have. You get what you deserve.] I didn’t bother replying. Instead, I clicked on her profile. She had been working in the city for four years. Her salary was around ninety thousand a year. She loved posting photos looking glamorous and wealthy. But the reality was, she paid over three thousand dollars a month for a tiny studio apartment that didn’t even have a balcony, just so she could have a shorter commute. Her latest story was a blurry photo of cheap flowers bought from a subway station. I knew that subway line. Even at eleven o’clock at night, you were packed in so tight you could barely breathe. Another post was her complaining about spending forty bucks on an artisanal salad that left her starving an hour later. Meanwhile, I had a five-minute drive to work and came home to a massive kitchen with hot, gourmet meals every night. A good life is meant to be lived, not performed for an audience. Six months into our marriage, I found out I was pregnant.

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My current boyfriend and I are together because he originally interfered with my relationship with my ex-boyfriend and pursued me. Perhaps because he used this method, he’s terrified that others will do the same to him, constantly worrying that I’ll leave. His possessiveness has become suffocating. I have to call him in real-time whenever I have a meal with anyone, and I have to undergo his interrogation before going to sleep at night. Even when I go out with my best friend, I have to be home before 10 PM. I simply couldn’t take it anymore and made up my mind to break up with him. That night, in the middle of it, he suddenly appeared by my bed, his voice cold, saying that if I wanted to break up, I could. Then he added that it would have to be after he died, and with that, he walked toward the window, looking like he was about to jump. Terrified, I immediately rushed over and hugged his legs, repeatedly saying I wouldn’t break up, begging him to stop. Ugh, what rotten luck, how did I end up with such a possessive person? 01 When I met Brian Sregor, I was still Adrian Thorne’s girlfriend. Adrian was tall and slender, gentle and wealthy. Reportedly, he fell for me at first sight. When he pursued me, he sent flowers, gifts, and warmth, kneeling by the sea with roses to confess, a grand and passionate display that made it hard for me not to fall. Seeing his handsome face, I agreed to his pursuit. I couldn’t help it; I’m a sucker for good looks. I could eat an extra half bowl of rice just looking at a handsome guy. Two weeks into our relationship, Adrian introduced me to his friends. He affectionately wrapped an arm around my waist and introduced me: “This is Mia, my girlfriend.” His friends exchanged glances, then praised me along with him: “Mia is so beautiful, no wonder Adrian pursued her for so long.” Another person nearby made a strange face, his tone amusing: “Mia, you wouldn’t believe it, when Adrian was pursuing you, he couldn’t eat, couldn’t sleep, all he thought about was how to please you.” “We kept wondering what kind of woman could enchant Adrian so completely, and seeing you today, you’re indeed a goddess.” I smiled, not taking their polite words too seriously. Adrian’s friends all seemed very friendly, except for one. From the moment I walked in, a gaze had been fixed on me. I looked up. What a striking face, an absolute stunner. His features were exquisitely beautiful, yet his demeanor was cool and languid. His long, beautiful eyes met my gaze, the corners slightly upturned, ink-colored pupils holding a smile. His lips curved slightly, truly a captivating, devilish charm. Adrian was handsome, and his friends were good-looking, but compared to him, they simply faded into the background, dim and unremarkable. Adrian followed my gaze and instantly understood. He put his arm around my waist and greeted the man: “Long time no see, Brian.” Brian’s eyelids lifted, and he looked at Adrian, who was hugging me. The smile in his eyes receded, and he nodded coolly and reservedly: “Hello.” Outstanding looks, and even a pleasant voice. Adrian sighed helplessly: “Brian, you’re still so aloof. Can’t you say a few more words?” His friends chimed in, agreeing: “Exactly, Brian has always seemed unapproachable since childhood.” “For the sake of being childhood friends, this big shot barely agrees to speak a couple of words to us.” “Looking at him, we probably won’t be attending his wedding anytime soon.” Brian sat on the sofa, listening to his friends’ teasing without a care. But after a while, his lips suddenly curved into a smile: “Who says? I might have a crush.” A thunderclap out of nowhere. Adrian and his friends erupted: “The impossible has happened! Who is it, tell us!” I also wanted to know. Someone this stunning has a crush on someone else? So, there are people in this world who don’t care about looks. Who could it be? But clearly, when Brian didn’t want to talk about something, no one could force him. Until the party ended, no one got any information out of him. 02 Ever since Brian and I connected on social media, I’ve developed a new hobby: checking his profile. Although they appear to be ordinary life photos, if you zoom in, you’ll notice some subtle intentions. For example: after a workout, a translucent garment is casually rolled up, revealing his abs and V-line. In dim lighting, long, well-defined fingers loosen his collar, exposing a beautiful and sexy collarbone. Of course, the main attraction is always his breathtakingly handsome face. I suspect Brian is fishing, trying to reel in his chosen catch. But thanks to that catch, we onlookers get a feast for our eyes. “Mia.” Adrian walked up to me, a frown on his face, looking displeased. I put away my phone; I still loved my boyfriend very much. “What’s wrong?” Clearly, Adrian wasn’t upset about Brian. He took my hand: “A friend of mine is back, and she wants to meet you.” “But don’t believe everything she says.” I sensed an unusual vibe from his cautious tone. And it was indeed unusual; the moment we met, she eyed me from head to toe. Adrian took my hand and greeted the person opposite us: “Chloe, this is my girlfriend, Mia.” Chloe, wearing a pink and white dress, had large eyes on a cute heart-shaped face, and long, dark curly hair framing her ears. She was sweet-looking and had a sweet voice. She grabbed my hand, all warmth and familiarity: “Mia, I’m Chloe Sregor, Adrian’s childhood friend.” “Adrian, Mia is so beautiful!” With that, she immediately let go of my hand and playfully punched Adrian in the chest: “Your taste is still the best, Mia is much prettier than your previous girlfriends. You’re so lucky.” Childhood friend, Adrian. I shot Adrian a wry glance, a half-smile playing on my lips. Adrian clutched his chest, glancing at me awkwardly, not daring to speak. This childhood friend’s game wasn’t very high-level. I tucked a stray hair behind my ear and smiled, looking down: “Perhaps Chloe just prefers my type of looks, which is why she thinks I’m prettier.” Chloe’s face flushed deep red; she probably hadn’t encountered someone like me, who could turn any situation upside down. It was almost as if a rival had suddenly become a ‘gal pal,’ and someone chuckled. Adrian immediately stepped in to smooth things over: “Alright, everyone, let’s go inside.” Once inside the room, Adrian insisted on squeezing onto the small sofa with me, thigh to thigh, waist to waist, as if afraid I was angry, constantly talking and trying to make me laugh. I remained expressionless; it wasn’t anger, mostly just how cramped it was. Brian sat alone on a single sofa, his spacious seat making me envious. Adrian kept leaning closer as he spoke, further encroaching on my space. “Is Mia upset with me?” Chloe, for no apparent reason, came over to interject again. She looked on the verge of tears, gazing at me pitifully: “It’s all my fault for saying the wrong thing.” “Mia, please don’t be angry with Adrian and me.” I stood up. The cramped seating was already annoying, and now this was even more so: “I’m not angry.” “Ms. Sregor, what right do you have to make Adrian and me angry?” “This is our first meeting. Before this, I’ve never even heard your name from Adrian. Ms. Sregor, you think too highly of yourself.” Chloe’s tears hung precariously, her expression stunned, probably not expecting me to be so direct. I watched her tears finally fall. Chloe choked out: “So Adrian didn’t want to mention me.” Adrian avoided Chloe’s gaze, but his hand tightened on mine. Chloe’s eyes reddened again: “I’m sorry, Adrian, I shouldn’t have broken off our engagement back then.” Engaged? I actually didn’t know about this. I looked at Adrian. His face was grim, and he whispered an explanation to me: “Mia, that was a long time ago.” So it was true. Chloe continued to weep, dripping tears: “Adrian and I had a childhood engagement.” I couldn’t help but interject: “What era is this? Childhood engagement? How old-fashioned.” Chloe briefly shot me a dagger look, but it had no effect. “Adrian was always so good to me when we were little, caring for me and even getting into fights to protect me.” I hadn’t expected the usually gentle Adrian to have fought for someone else. Adrian’s grip on my hand tightened unconsciously, but his gaze was fixed on Chloe, stern. “Chloe, stop. That’s all in the past.” Chloe cried pitifully, her eyes blurry with tears: “I’m sorry, Adrian, you were so good to me.” “Your Adrian was so good to you, yet you left without a word on your engagement day and ran off with someone else, didn’t you?” A sudden voice rang out, elegant and distinguished, with a mocking tone. I shifted my gaze. It was Brian, speaking with a smile, sitting on a nearby sofa, twirling a wine glass. “You enjoyed Adrian’s kindness, yet you were entangled with someone else. When you left a sticky note and walked out on your engagement day, did you consider the dignity of your fiancé and both families’ parents?” Chloe’s face flushed. No one had ever been so merciless to her. She was an only child, and her parents always doted on her. Even when she ran away from her wedding, her parents were only angry for a while and quickly forgave her, willing to back her up. Adrian’s parents didn’t say much, out of respect for her parents, and Adrian had spoiled her since childhood. A large part of her reckless, runaway nature was cultivated by Adrian’s indulgence. She would act cute and pitiful with Adrian, and he would always forgive her. Chloe lowered her head, secretly resenting Brian, but her voice remained sweet: “I was too naive back then.” Brian chuckled again, leaning his head back, his posture languid. Sunlight gently streamed in from the window, coating his porcelain-white skin with a light golden glow, his features even more strikingly beautiful. “Chloe Sregor, after all these years, you’re still both stupid and malicious, with no brains.” Brian met my surprised gaze, his eyes curving into a captivating smile. Chloe, however, stopped crying, glaring at Brian with hatred: “What did you say?” Brian’s tongue remained sharp and merciless: “Do you really think your little tricks are invisible to everyone else?” “How many times have you deliberately tried to sow discord?” “Only Adrian, that fool, was played by you, and that’s because he liked you.” “But he doesn’t like you anymore.” His words were so poisonous, practically an indiscriminate attack. Chloe’s nails dug into her palms, shaking with rage. Adrian had forgiven her, but after that, he started dating other girls. Yet, she managed to break up all those relationships, and he’d been single for years. Just as she thought she could rekindle things with Adrian, I appeared. “Adrian, you really don’t want me anymore?” I frowned deeply. She was openly confessing to my boyfriend in front of me. She really didn’t see me as anything. Good thing Adrian knew his place. “My feelings for Mia are sincere. I truly love her.” “The first time I saw her, I liked her.” “I want to marry her.” With that, he was about to get down on one knee to propose to me. That nearly scared me to death. I hadn’t enjoyed my good life long enough; I definitely didn’t want to get married young. “Alright, alright, I believe you, get up quickly.” Chloe completely broke down. Tears stopped falling, replaced by a hateful glare at me, her eyes like daggers. What’s the point of hating me? Did I force her to run away from her wedding? I turned around, giving Chloe the same scrutinizing look she had given me earlier: “You look much better like this than with your fake tears from before.” “Seems a lot more genuine.” Adrian stood silently by my side, clearly taking a stand. Chloe, seeing no one helping her, finally stormed off. But she didn’t know that Adrian, while wrapping his arm around my shoulder, had watched her retreating back for a long time. It wasn’t until I nudged him that he suddenly came back to himself and smiled at me. After the gathering, Adrian was about to take me home when he got a call. I didn’t hear what was said. He frowned deeply, looking at me with an awkward expression: “Mia, something’s come up with Chloe. I might have to go.” No wonder Chloe was so brazen; it was all Adrian’s indulgence. I wrapped my shawl tighter, tucking a stray hair behind my ear: “What about me, then?” Adrian spoke softly, his face cautious: “Can I ask Brian to take you back?” Just then, Brian arrived. He stood next to Adrian, tall and slender, twirling his car keys: “Ready?” I bypassed Adrian completely and left with Brian. “Brian, didn’t you drink earlier?” “The glass had grape juice in it.”

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When the apocalypse hit, the world went to hell. As the last Aether researcher in our bunker, I faced a choice for humanity’s future. Memories of my past life flooded me. In that timeline, my assistant Silas—who couldn’t even recall the periodic table—was hailed as the “Father of Awakenings.” He could awaken flawless abilities with a touch, while I labored over data and mental thresholds. It climaxed when our Leader was to awaken an S-Class Lightning ability. Silas pushed me aside, saying only he could guide her. I fought to warn of the Lightning element’s volatility, but his followers pinned me down. Silas succeeded, becoming the bunker’s messiah. Me? He framed me for illegal experiments, broke my limbs, and threw me to the infected horde. As I was torn apart, I realized the truth: he had no “God Touch”—he was telepathic, stealing my mental blueprints as his own. I blinked, gasping. I was back in the lab, on the day he first claimed the God Touch. This time, I didn’t bother with calculations. I leaned back and hummed a silly ’90s dance tune in my mind. 1 “Larkin, congratulations man! Another one hundred percent success rate on the Awakening protocols!” “No kidding! As long as we have Larkin, our bunker is going to pump out more Awakened soldiers than any other settlement in the coalition!” Surrounded by a cheering crowd, I felt a wave of vertigo. The air didn’t reek of rotting flesh and coagulated blood. Instead, the sharp bite of clinical antiseptic filled my lungs. I instinctively patted my arms and legs. Completely intact. No shattered bones. No agonizing pain from teeth tearing into my skin. “Hold on a minute!” Right as General Briggs was about to hand me the Researcher of the Month commendation, my “good colleague” Silas stepped out from the crowd, his face a mask of solemn duty. “General, I need to come clean. The actual guiding protocol for this batch… I was the one who designed it.” Looking at his earnest, deceptively honest face, the realization hit me hard. I had been reborn to this exact moment. I gripped my clipboard so tightly my knuckles turned white. Mutters of disbelief rippled through the room. Silas furrowed his brow, playing the part of a wronged genius who had suffered in silence for too long. “If you’re claiming you did the work, why don’t you give us a live demonstration?” I swallowed the venom rising in my throat and pointed at a young man in the corner. He was a Geokinetic who had been stuck on the verge of Awakening, entirely unable to break past his bottleneck. “His mental threshold is incredibly unstable. Since you have the God Touch, why don’t you push him over the edge?” Silas froze for a fraction of a second before regaining his composure. He strutted forward brimming with confidence and placed his hand dramatically against the young man’s forehead. At that exact moment, I felt the faintest prickling sensation grazing my mind. A mental probe. Just as I thought. He was reading my thoughts. In my past life, this was the exact moment I played the absolute fool. Terrified that the poor kid was going to suffer a fatal backlash, my brain had gone into overdrive, frantically analyzing the geokinetic data and mapping out the safest neural pathways. Silas heard every single thought, copied it, and used it to build his own legend. This time, I didn’t rush to expose him. I just narrowed my eyes. I had been tracking this Earth-elemental kid’s vitals for a week. The blueprint was already mapped out in my head. I just hadn’t run the final clinical trials. I rapidly pulled up the incomplete schematic in my mind and mentally filled in the final missing sequence. In that same split second, Silas’s eyes lit up. He started muttering like a seasoned oracle. “I feel it… Channel the ambient kinetic energy starting from the lower meridian nodes…” As he mirrored my exact mental instructions, the young man, whose face had been twisted in agony, suddenly gasped. The chaotic earth elements in the room instantly submitted to him, layering over his skin to form a dense, heavy suit of rock armor. “I… I did it?!” the kid yelled in pure shock. “I broke through! Thank you, Silas! You’re a literal god!” “Holy shit! The God Touch is real! He didn’t even need a bio-monitor! He just touched him and knew exactly what to do!” The room erupted into deafening applause and cheers. 2 Silas turned his head and shot me a provocative look, his eyes practically swimming in smug satisfaction. I stood on the fringe of the crowd, a cold smirk tugging at my lips. It was exactly as I hypothesized. Just a minute ago, I had mentally called him a brainless parasite, and he hadn’t reacted at all. But the second I started visualizing complex Aether-data, he locked right onto it. His telepathy wasn’t omnipotent. He could only skim the highly focused, technical frequencies of my cerebral cortex. “Well, Larkin? What do you have to say for yourself now?” A figure pushed through the cheering crowd. It was Valerie, the captain of the Vanguard Squad. She also happened to be my current girlfriend. She walked straight to Silas, gently brushing a speck of dust off his shoulder with a look of deep admiration. Then she turned her icy glare on me, her voice dripping with disappointment and disgust. “While Silas was saving that boy’s life, I saw you standing in the corner smirking. What? Seeing him succeed hurts your ego that much? Are you really that suffocated by jealousy?” Silas immediately raised his hands, playing the magnanimous saint. “Captain Valerie, please, don’t be too hard on Larkin. He’s my senior. It’s totally understandable that he needs a minute to process the fact that I was born with this gift. I don’t hold it against him.” “You are way too nice for your own good, Silas!” Valerie snapped indignantly. “Some people can’t produce a single viable result on their own, so they resort to suppressing the new blood. Facts speak louder than words. Your God Touch is infinitely more valuable than his dusty old spreadsheets!” General Briggs walked over. While he wasn’t quite as venomous as Valerie, the warmth was completely gone from his eyes when he looked at me. “Larkin, the results are undeniable. Silas is simply more gifted. We are fighting a losing war out there. We don’t have time to wait around. We need the most efficient Awakening methods possible.” He paused, letting his authority settle over the room. “Effective immediately, Silas will take full command of the Aether Research Division. Larkin, you will act as his assistant. Try to learn a thing or two from him.” The surrounding researchers nodded in fervent agreement. “Exactly. I used to think Larkin was some kind of genius, but he just got totally eclipsed by his own intern.” “Silas is the real deal. That earth kid was stuck for months, and Silas fixed him with a single touch.” Facing a room full of people ready to burn me at the stake, I didn’t scream or desperately try to defend myself like I did in my past life. I simply reached up, unpinned the Chief Researcher badge from my coat, and set it softly on the steel table. “Alright,” I said, my voice eerily calm. “If Assistant Silas is truly that gifted, I’ll leave all future Awakening operations in his capable hands.” Silas clearly hadn’t expected me to roll over so easily. A flicker of confusion crossed his face, quickly swallowed by manic joy. “Thanks for stepping aside, Larkin! I promise I won’t let the bunker down! Though, for some of the more boring theoretical stuff, I might still need you to double-check my math.” I looked right at him and smiled. “Don’t worry. For the sake of the bunker and the future of humanity, I will give you everything you need.” 3 For the next two weeks, I played the dutiful assistant, following Silas around like a shadow. No matter how chaotic or complex an Awakener’s condition was, I would immediately construct the flawless solution in my head. A Pyromancer’s core is overheating? I would mentally recite: “Compress the local oxygen density to choke the ignition point.” Silas would parrot the command. Flawless success. A Hydromancer suffering from acute cellular dehydration? I would run the analysis: “Inject a concentrated electrolyte drip directly into the primary artery.” Silas executed it. Absolute perfection. Riding entirely on my silent mental labor, Silas’s reputation skyrocketed into the stratosphere. People were calling him the messiah of the wasteland, the literal “Father of Awakenings.” There were even petitions floating around to build a statue of him in the courtyard. With Silas’s untouchable status secured, the bunker administration finally moved forward with their most controversial agenda. The Genesis Protocol. In this apocalyptic wasteland, the human population was on the brink of extinction. Passing down elite genetic traits had become the absolute highest priority. Under bunker law, only men and women certified with S-Class genetics were authorized to start a family. They were granted the highest luxury rations, private quarters, and complete immunity from scavenging duty. Valerie and I were the bunker’s recognized S-Class pair. She was our fiercest Vanguard captain, and I was the chief intellectual asset. Our pairing had always been treated as a given. But the wind had changed. After a scavenging team hauled in a massive cache of pre-war supplies, the bunker threw a celebration banquet. General Briggs, his face flushed with cheap alcohol, raised his glass. “To honor Silas’s ascension as the Father of Awakenings, command has decided to award him the sole Genesis Protocol slot for this year! And the woman chosen to stand by his side is, naturally, our finest Captain Valerie!” The mess hall erupted into wild cheers. Silas straightened his posture, wearing the modest, restrained smile of a man who had won the lottery. He humbly lowered his head, casting a longing glance at Valerie before looking at me with an expression of deep, manufactured distress. “I… I can’t accept this. Valerie is Larkin’s girl.” He wrung his hands. “How could I steal the woman he loves? That’s just completely wrong.” The crowd immediately took the bait. “Silas, man, the world ended! This isn’t the time to be hung up on high school romance! You’re being way too selfless!” “Exactly! For the future of the human race, the strong need to pair with the strong!” “Larkin is just an assistant now. His genes aren’t even in the same league as your God Touch!” “Larkin should be honored to step aside! This is for the survival of humanity!” Every eye in the room zeroed in on me, slicing into me like daggers. Valerie stood up, her expression a perfect mask of cold, noble duty. She walked over to me and placed a heavy hand on my shoulder, looking down at me with detached pity. “Larkin, I know this feels incredibly unfair. I hate that it has to be this way.” “But as the Vanguard Captain, I have to put the big picture first. For the continuation of our species, for a stronger next generation, I am willing to sacrifice my personal happiness.” “You’re a logical man. I know you understand the burden I have to carry, right?” Looking at her sickeningly righteous face, I actually had to bite the inside of my cheek to stop myself from laughing out loud. Sacrifice her happiness? In my past life, when Silas framed me and broke my bones, this woman—who claimed to love me—didn’t even flinch. She didn’t visit my cell once. Worse, as my consciousness faded while bleeding out in the dirt, I saw them together. Through the reinforced glass of my own lab, I watched them having sex on my desk while the horde tore me apart. They had been screwing behind my back long before today. 4 I brushed her hand off my shoulder and arranged my features into an expression of tragic martyrdom. “You’re right, Valerie. In the face of human extinction, what do my petty feelings matter?” I turned to Silas, who was still wearing his pathetic, guilty expression. “Silas, since command believes you two are the optimal match, I yield. I hope you produce the ultimate child for this bunker. Don’t let humanity down.” “Larkin…” Silas choked up, looking like he was ready to take a bullet for me. “Thank you! You are a bigger man than I could ever be! Valerie and I will never forget your sacrifice!” Valerie visibly relaxed, letting out a heavy sigh. “Don’t worry, Larkin. When we have our firstborn, we’ll name you the godfather.” The mess hall erupted into a standing ovation. I retreated to the shadowy corner of the room, sipping a stale glass of water, watching the golden couple soak up their fraudulent glory. The banquet didn’t drag on for much longer. Everyone needed their rest. Three days later was the day that truly mattered. It was the day Seraphina, the supreme Leader of our bunker, was scheduled to awaken her S-Class Lightning ability. Silas had been living like a king for the past three days. He watched me scribbling away in my notebooks, looking completely relaxed. He knew the drill. As long as I did the homework, he would get the A-plus. The final day arrived. At exactly noon, the clouds above the bunker violently churned, mutating into a thick, suffocating canopy of deep purple storm clouds. Seraphina’s Awakening had begun. Outside the heavy blast doors of the isolation chamber, wild arcs of purple lightning lashed against the reinforced glass. “Energy outputs are spiking! She’s breaching critical mass!” the bio-monitor technician screamed in pure panic. “We need to initiate the guide protocol immediately, or we are looking at a localized thermonuclear detonation in three minutes!” General Briggs was sweating bullets. He grabbed Silas by the shoulder. “Silas, the entire bunker is riding on you. This is an S-Class threshold. Are you absolutely certain you can do this?” Even faced with apocalyptic, bunker-leveling lightning, Silas maintained his arrogant, serene smile. He had spent the last three days watching me run calculations until my eyes bled. He was dead certain he could just jack into my brain and read the cheat sheet. He tipped his chin up proudly. “Relax, General. S-Class might sound scary, but under my God Touch, all Aether elements bow down. Guiding the Leader will be as easy as breathing.” Valerie gripped her rifle, her eyes shining with absolute devotion. “Silas, you really are the savior of this world.” Silas turned around and shot me a look of pure, unadulterated condescension. “Larkin, what are you waiting for? Keep up. Even though I have this in the bag, guiding an S-Class drains a lot of raw stamina. You’re on standby. Keep your brain moving fast. Don’t lose my rhythm and embarrass me.” Through the thick anti-blast glass, I stared at the woman strapped to the center of the room, howling in agony as raw electricity consumed her body. In my past life, I bled myself dry to save her, only for Silas to steal the credit and throw me to the wolves. I lowered my head to hide the dark, predatory gleam in my eyes and obediently followed him inside. The heavy doors hissed open. The sheer concussive force of the wild lightning nearly knocked us off our feet. Seraphina was suspended in the center of the room by heavy grounding chains, wearing a scorched tactical vest. Her eyes were glowing a blinding crimson. She was seconds away from a total meltdown. Silas walked right up to her, striking a highly professional, heroic pose. Then, he plunged his mental tendrils straight into my cerebral cortex, desperate for the answer key. The familiar, invasive tickle washed over my mind. A split second later, Silas smirked, opened his mouth, and screamed at the top of his lungs: “SLIDE TO THE LEFT! SLIDE TO THE RIGHT! CRISS-CROSS! EVERYBODY CLAP YOUR HANDS!” The crowd of officials and scientists watching through the glass froze in absolute horror.

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On my brother’s bedside table, that familiar bouquet of white bellflowers froze me in place. Everyone used to say it took ten years for Quinn—the girl whose flowers I’d toss in the trash every day—to become the only girl by my side. Growing up, I’d always gotten away with things, relying on my good looks. My admirers came and went, but she, my childhood friend, always stayed. They’d often tell me I’d never find anyone like Quinn if I let her go, that companionship was the most moving declaration of love. Just as I was finally ready to let my guard down and accept her, this discovery hit me like a bucket of ice water, dousing all my courage. I’ve always had a terrible personality, but I just happened to be born with a face that drew people in. 1 The next day at school, Quinn brought me a red rose. I frowned, didn’t even glance at it, and tossed it straight into the trash. Quinn paused, then, unfazed, leaned in with a sweet smile. “What’s wrong? Did I do something wrong?” From seven to seventeen, no matter how much I snapped at Quinn, she’d always indulge me like this. The worst time was when I accidentally broke a jade pendant her deceased mother had left her. My eyes welled up, ready to apologize. But Quinn just quietly asked if I’d hurt my hand. Even if, later, she’d hide away and cry by herself. Maybe it was just a coincidence. I turned my head, asking in a muffled voice, “Why did my brother have the same white bellflowers you gave me yesterday?” Quinn chuckled. “Nothing to do with me. I know you can’t stand him, so I’ve never even spoken to him.” Right. Quinn and Leo had barely exchanged a few words. How could she have given him flowers? I let out a sigh of relief, just about to swallow my pride and apologize to Quinn. Then the school bell rang. I scribbled a note and slipped it into her desk. But as I did, I noticed a pink envelope tucked inside her textbook. It had a little heart drawn on it. And I recognized the handwriting. It was from my brother, Leo. 2 My fingers hooked the pink envelope, and without a moment’s hesitation, I pulled it out. As the letter unfolded, Leo’s familiar, elegant handwriting filled the page. He wrote about falling for Quinn the first time he saw her, about envying her when she brought me flowers, about his internal struggle, afraid to get close. I patiently flipped through the pages until I reached the last line: “If you agree, please give me a single white bellflower.” My gaze froze. So it wasn’t a coincidence. That white bellflower by his bed—that’s how it got there. The teacher was lecturing animatedly at the front of the classroom. I bit back my fury, slamming the letter onto Quinn’s desk, glaring at her. The grating sound of my chair scraping the floor was too loud. The teacher frowned, calling out my name. “Alex, what’s with the fidgeting in class? You answer this question.” I stared at the formula on the blackboard, my mind a blank, filled only with the contents of that letter. Quinn whispered the answer to me, her voice laced with urgency and reassurance. But I didn’t want to say a word. The teacher waited for a long moment, his face darkening. “Alex, what do you have besides a pretty face? Your grades are worse than your brother’s, you’re spoiled and arrogant, always stirring up trouble with girls, making a mess of this class!” I just kept my head down, gritting my teeth, silent. I didn’t care what people said about my personality. But I hated, absolutely hated, being compared to my brother. I didn’t look at the teacher, didn’t look at Quinn, just walked out of the classroom, my face cold. I’d barely splashed water on my face in the boys’ room when I heard Quinn’s hurried footsteps behind me. Her face was etched with anxiety, completely unlike her usual composed, accommodating self. “Alex, please don’t be mad.” “You know I hate being compared to him!” I glared at Quinn, my eyes blazing. “Quinn, don’t play dumb. You know that’s not what I’m most angry about.” She pressed her lips together, a hint of hurt in her eyes, explaining softly, “The white bellflowers were specifically for you. I didn’t know he wanted them, and I certainly didn’t plan to give him any.” I demanded, “Then what about the white bellflowers by his bed?” “He must have bought them himself, trying to make you misunderstand,” Quinn sighed, her voice laced with resignation. “Lots of girls in class like you, saying they’ll confess after exams. I was scared of losing you, so I just wanted to make you a little jealous, to let you know I cared.” Her eyes held a pleading look. “I’ve already explained things to the teacher, don’t take it to heart. I can wait, until you’re ready to accept me, until exams are over, however long it takes.” Looking at the stubbornness in her eyes, remembering her unwavering presence for the past ten years. The fire in my chest cooled a bit. I said, my voice still cold, “Alright, after the exams.” Quinn’s eyes immediately lit up, and that gentle smile returned to her face. On the way home from school, she took a call, frowning. “Something urgent came up. You go home first; I’ll find you after I’m done.” I nodded and walked on. After only a few steps, I remembered my water bottle in the classroom and turned back. As I reached the classroom door, just about to push it open, I heard Leo’s voice, a hint of a whine in it. “Quinn, are you really going to wait until after exams?” I froze in place. 3 The classroom door was ajar, and Leo’s voice drifted out, soft and submissive. “Quinn, big brother walked out of class like that today. The teacher must be furious, and you still went to explain for him. Isn’t that exhausting?” “Sometimes I wonder, you’ve waited for him for so many years, given him everything good, and he… he never seemed to care.” “Big brother probably doesn’t understand how rare it is for someone to wait with their whole heart. Just like I’m waiting for you.” He looked at Quinn with what seemed like concern. “I just worry you’ll get too tired. If big brother keeps acting like this, won’t you feel too wronged?” No tears, no self-pity, no overt criticism. It just made my chest ache, but there was no outright malice to pinpoint. I shoved the classroom door open. It hit the wall with a thud. Leo turned, no panic on his face, just a perfectly timed look of surprise. Then he lowered his eyes, docile as a harmless kitten, completely devoid of the awkwardness from moments ago. My gaze landed on him, and I raised an eyebrow. “Leo, you’re certainly more well-behaved discussing people behind their backs than you are in front of Mom and Dad.” “Worried about her? It’s not your place to worry. How I treat her is between us. It’s not up to someone who’s barely exchanged words with her to stick up for her.” Leo’s eyes reddened, but he only softly argued, “Brother, I didn’t. I was just worried about Quinn. I didn’t mean anything else. Don’t overthink it.” Quinn, beside him, frowned slightly and took a half-step forward. Her tone held a hint of exasperation towards me, and a gentle protectiveness towards Leo. “Alex, don’t say that. Leo was just being kind, he didn’t mean any harm. Why are you being so aggressive?” Just that one sentence, but it twisted my insides into knots. The year I was born, Leo arrived shortly after, premature and frail. The family’s focus instantly shifted. He was given the name Leo, wishing him a life of joy, cherished by all. And I was named Alex. To bid farewell, to yield, to always give way. Growing up, if he wanted something of mine, I had to let him have it. My only friend was snatched away by his soft words: “Brother’s just like that; you’ll always feel wronged playing with him.” Everyone told me, “You’re the older brother, he’s not well, you have to let him have his way.” I was forced to become sharp, unruly, and difficult. Only then could I hold onto a tiny bit of what was mine. Everyone doted on him, everyone but Quinn. From the age of seven, she ignored everyone’s accusations, ignored me throwing her flowers in the trash, ignored my cold remarks, and always, unconditionally, stood by me. Seven-year-old Quinn stubbornly told me, “I love how you protect yourself! We’re friends, and I’ll always stand by you!” “Someone who has to steal from others to thrive isn’t worth getting upset over!” But just now, for Leo, she frowned and casually defended him. No favoritism, no excessive protection, just a simple word of caution. Yet she knew perfectly well what I had been forced into. And still, she chose to defend him. I took a deep breath, refusing to swallow my hurt. The next second, I raised my hand and slapped Quinn across the face. Quinn’s head snapped to the side from the impact. She turned back, stunned, her eyes filled with disbelief and a flicker of pain. I didn’t look at her, nor at the bewildered Leo. Tears welled in my eyes, but I bit down hard on my lip, refusing to let them fall. The way to avoid being wronged wasn’t to cry. Turning, I bolted out of the classroom without a backward glance. Leaving ten years of companionship, ten years of unwavering loyalty, all behind me. 4 I stormed back to my dorm room. I’d chosen to live on campus after my family and I became estranged a long time ago. A while later, my roommate edged closer, his voice cautious. “Alex, there’s a girl waiting for you downstairs. It’s Quinn.” I was listening to music. Hearing him, I replied, “Got it, thanks.” I picked up my phone and messaged Quinn directly: [Go away. Don’t be a nuisance.] Message sent. I flipped my phone face down on the desk. My roommate stood there, hesitating for a long moment, then, as if gathering great courage, spoke softly. “Alex, my sister… she’s liked you for a long time, since freshman year. You’re so handsome, you don’t have to just focus on one person. Wouldn’t it be good to look at others?” His sister, Willow. The only person in school who dared to openly defy me, who I’d pushed back against countless times, and who still wouldn’t back down—she liked me? That was even more laughable than Quinn’s explanations. I didn’t respond. The sky outside gradually darkened. Evening study hall ended at nine. It was now 11:50—a full three hours. My phone vibrated countless times on the desk. Quinn’s messages popped up one after another, but I didn’t look at a single one. Ten minutes left until the dorm gates closed. If Quinn didn’t leave soon, she’d be stuck outside all night. The screen suddenly lit up. The caller ID was “Mrs. Davis.” Quinn’s mom, widowed years ago, raised her alone and always treated me like her own son. Every time I went to their place, she’d make all my favorite foods, always saying it was her blessing that Quinn stayed with me. I sighed, finally picking up, my voice softening a bit. “Mrs. Davis.” “Alex,” Mrs. Davis’s voice was anxious. “Quinn has been standing downstairs for almost three hours. It’s so cold out. Can you please go see her? I’m begging you.” “…I understand.” I grabbed my jacket and headed downstairs. Quinn stood under the streetlamp, her voice terribly hoarse, laced with profound hurt. “Alex, you finally came to see me.” “This afternoon, when I met Leo, I really just wanted to make things clear, to tell him to stop overthinking and to stop meddling in our business.” “I was protecting him not out of favoritism, but because I was afraid he’d be manipulative, and turn around to spread rumors in class or at home, ruining your reputation and making things even harder for you.” “I know you hit me because you were hurt, because for so many years only I stood by you, and I let you down. I don’t blame you, not one bit. I only feel for you…” As she spoke, her voice choked up, and the tears in her eyes finally spilled over. The girl’s disheveled vulnerability was laid bare before me. She reached out, gently tugging at my sleeve. “Alex, could you just… give me a hug? Just one, and I’ll go straight home, I won’t bother you.” The figure who protected me at seven, the white bellflowers she gave me at seventeen, her question “Are you hurt?” when I broke the jade pendant… All my sharpness, in that moment, softened for an instant. I didn’t push her away. Quinn immediately stepped forward, gently embracing me, holding on tightly, sobbing into my shoulder. “Don’t leave me… please.” After only a few seconds, I gently pushed her away. “Go back. The gates are closing.” Quinn reluctantly let go, her eyes red, nodding and running towards the school gate, looking back every few steps. I turned around, ready to head back to the dorm. A tall figure suddenly emerged from the shadows nearby, blocking my path. It was Willow. I raised an eyebrow. “Good dogs don’t block the road.” Willow scoffed, retorting, “And you’re too blind to know what you’re looking at.” She didn’t say anything else, just handed her phone to me. The screen was lit. A clear photo, taken just moments ago. In the blind spot by the corner of the dorm building, where I couldn’t see. Quinn was tightly embracing Leo, kissing him with deep, frantic passion. Leo returned the kiss, one hand clasped around her waist, the other cradling the back of her neck, docile and dependent. There was no trace of a man who had been rejected. 5 Back in my dorm, I blocked and deleted all of Quinn’s contact information. Only six months until graduation. No matter how much of a jerk I, Alex, might be, no matter how arrogant, I wouldn’t waste what little time I had left on someone who was full of lies and playing both sides. As dawn broke, I got myself ready and walked into the school building as usual. But today, it felt like I’d gone back a few years. In the hallway, many eyes were on me, whispering. “That’s him, Alex. I heard he strung Quinn along for ten years, treated her like a dog, and now he still won’t let go, even trying to steal his own brother’s girlfriend.” “Not just that. Someone saw him actively hugging Quinn downstairs by the dorm yesterday, totally clinging to her.” “I never liked him. He just uses his looks to mess with girls. I heard he used to constantly steal his brother’s things. It’s disgusting. Why hasn’t he been expelled yet…” And then there were the rumors about my chaotic personal life, implying I’d been with countless people. Every word was too filthy to even hear. Just like before. My freshman year, Leo had a crush on a girl in our class. She casually complimented me, saying, “He’s so handsome.” Leo immediately burst into tears, telling our family and classmates that I deliberately seduced her, that I used my looks to steal his things. My family, without asking any questions, pointed fingers at me, calling me inconsiderate, selfish, and malicious. I got into a fight with the person who spread those rumors about me, beating him unconscious, my eyes blazing. The school wanted to discipline me, and my family, because of Leo, didn’t care. I was driven to the rooftop, wanting to jump and end it all. It was Quinn who rushed up like a madwoman, clinging to my waist, pulling me back. She knelt on the ground, trembling all over, her eyes red as she screamed, “Alex, don’t you dare die! I believe you, I’ll always believe you! Everyone else can doubt you, but I won’t! If anyone dares to say a bad word about you, I’ll fight them to the death!” She ended up taking a disciplinary action for me, and helped me explain to classmates and mend relationships. But now? Quinn stood at the classroom door, for the first time openly by Leo’s side. Willow walked past, leisurely remarking, “Are you waiting for Quinn to stand up like she did back then and say, ‘He’s not like that’?” I didn’t speak, just walked step by step to Quinn, my gaze calm. “Quinn, I’ll only ask you one thing.” “You were with a boyfriend while still clinging to me, right?” A flicker of struggle crossed Quinn’s eyes. The person she had once staked her entire youth on believing stood before her, tears welling in her eyes. But in the end, she only said: “No.” “You were the one clinging to me, it has nothing to do with Leo.” The entire room erupted in whispers.

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The bewildered stare of the immigration officer pierced me like a physical blow. Under the sterile fluorescent lights, the computer screen facing me displayed Kelly’s legal spouse. The name staring back at me was Paul. “Sir, are you sure you didn’t make a mistake on this form?” That single question dropped the floor out from under me. The chill of the air conditioning suddenly felt like a plunge into a frozen lake. So, for the past five years, not only had I been waiting in vain for my Green Card, but even my identity as her husband had been a complete lie. Five years ago, I gave up everything to follow Kelly across the ocean, driven by nothing but blind love. Time and time again, my residency applications were met with endless delays and rejections. Yet Paul, the so-called helpless younger brother crashing in our guest room, secured his permanent residency in barely three months. I only found out later that Kelly had personally hired a top-tier immigration lawyer to expedite his case. When my disappointment finally boiled over and I packed my bags to fly back home, Kelly panicked. She wrapped her arms around me, her tears soaking through my shirt. “Noah, you are my husband. Getting your papers is just a matter of time.” Then she looked up at me with those pleading eyes. “But Ollie is different. He has no one here. Without his papers, he could be deported at any minute. Please, just stay. Do it for me?” Like a fool, I let her tears anchor me down once again. 1 I didn’t go back to the house we shared. Instead, I headed straight to the airport terminal. Right before I reached the departure gates, my phone vibrated. It was a text from her: “Stop throwing a tantrum. Come home.” But Kelly, we hadn’t had a home in a very long time. The officer behind the glass tapped her pen, thinking I hadn’t heard her. “Sir, you might want to double-check your documents.” Her voice pulled me back to reality. I slowly slid the paperwork off the counter, forcing a stiff, polite smile. “That won’t be necessary. Thank you for your time.” I stood in the corridor for a long moment, my finger hovering over Kelly’s contact. Instinct told me to call her, to demand an explanation, to scream until my throat gave out. The phone rang endlessly. When the line finally clicked open, it wasn’t Kelly’s voice. “Hey man, Kelly is in the middle of a board meeting right now,” Paul’s voice floated through the speaker, dripping with a sickening sweetness. “Did you need something? You can tell me, and I’ll pass the message along. Though, unless you’re out of groceries, I doubt it’s an emergency.” “We’re going over a massive merger here. You’re just a stay-at-home guy, Noah. Let the adults handle the real work.” His words were laced with poison, striking so deep I couldn’t form a single syllable. In the background, I heard Kelly’s muffled voice asking who was on the line. Paul let out a soft, dismissive chuckle. “Nobody important. Just a spam call.” “Focus on the contracts,” she replied. The call abruptly disconnected. I stared at the blackening screen of my phone. A single tear broke free, splashing against the glass. But the crying didn’t last. A hollow, bitter laugh escaped my throat, echoing in the crowded terminal. Looking back, none of this was genuinely surprising. Kelly and Paul grew up on the same street. They were each other’s first loves. I knew all of this before I even put a ring on her finger. But Kelly had held my hands, her gaze burning with absolute sincerity. “That belongs to the past, Noah. You are the only man I love now.” And I swallowed the lie whole. Not long after we moved to the States, Paul magically got a job transfer to the same city. Kelly played the anxious caretaker perfectly. “He’s all alone in a foreign country, Noah. I can’t sleep knowing he’s out there fending for himself.” Just like that, Paul moved into our home, taking up space like he owned the place. Months later, a convenient career change landed him the role of Kelly’s personal assistant. Anyone with eyes could see the boundaries blurring. But Kelly just brushed my chin and whispered, “He’s just like a little brother to me. Stop overthinking.” And so I did. I covered my eyes, plugged my ears, and played the role of the devoted partner. Right before I left my home country, my mother had watched me pack. She didn’t try to stop me. She just offered a tired, knowing smile. “You’re young, Noah. I won’t stop you because you won’t listen anyway. But you’ll understand eventually. A man who relies on someone else with his palms facing up will lose everything the second they decide to stop giving.” “No man who shrinks himself just to keep a house ever gets a happy ending.” I was young, arrogant, and drunk on romance. I believed love conquered logic. I refused a single dime from my family, crossed the Atlantic with nothing but passion, and threw myself into a world where I didn’t even speak the local slang. I bled for five years to build a life for her. And when I finally turned around, the woman I did it all for had already walked away. Only now did my mother’s words ring with devastating clarity. Without a second thought, I opened the airline app and booked the next available flight out. Tonight. Five years was enough. I didn’t have another five years to waste on a ghost. Just as the payment confirmation popped up, an incoming call overtook the screen. Kelly. “Noah, I was in a meeting. What’s going on?” “Are you at the office? I need to see you right now.” Kelly’s tone shifted, sounding instantly burdened. “Right now? That’s going to be tricky. I have a dinner with clients tonight. If nobody is dying, we can talk when I get home…” “I’m not waiting.” My voice was sharp, cutting through her excuses. Even Kelly paused, caught off guard by a tone I had never used with her. I was always the understanding one, the compromising one. She sighed heavily. “Are you still throwing a fit about the residency papers? I told you, you are my legal partner. Getting your status fixed is just a matter of time. Besides, it’s not like you need to work anyway. Why are you obsessing over a piece of plastic?” “Noah, I’m taking care of you.” She had fed me that line a thousand times to make me feel secure. Now, it just sounded like a sick joke. Taking care of a man who wasn’t even legally her husband? What did that make me? A kept man? A dirty little secret? I didn’t bother spelling it out over the phone. I just dropped the words, “I’ll be there in thirty minutes,” and hung up. Some truths needed to be spoken to her face. I rarely visited her firm. I didn’t understand corporate finance, and I never wanted to be a distraction. Because of my absence, the receptionist had to verify my identity for ten minutes before finally pointing me toward the executive suites. When I reached her door, I heard voices. Her inner circle, the wealthy expat crowd she loved to run with. “Come on, Kelly,” a slick, teasing voice drifted through the wood. “When are you and Ollie finally making it official? I’ve got my wedding gift picked out already.” Another chimed in. “Seriously, you two have been legally hitched for five years now. You should have kids running around by now. Why keep playing hide and seek?” Paul’s voice joined the chorus, dripping with fake modesty. “Guys, stop it. Kelly only married me on paper so I wouldn’t get deported.” “If Noah hears you guys talking like this, he’s going to get the wrong idea.” The instigator didn’t miss a beat. “Let him get the wrong idea. If Kelly wasn’t funding his entire existence, he’d be kicked out of the country tomorrow. It’s not like he contributes to the firm like you do, Ollie. He just cooks and cleans. He’s a glorified maid.” A low chuckle followed. “If I were you, Kelly, I’d turn the fake marriage into a real one. Keep Ollie. Give the maid a severance check and put him on a plane back home.” My hand froze on the doorknob. Inside and out, everyone was waiting for her answer. It sounded like she was genuinely considering it. After a heavy silence, she let out a careless laugh. “Alright, that’s enough. You’re embarrassing Ollie.” “As for the guy at home… he’s been acting up lately. I’ll buy him something nice to quiet him down. If that doesn’t work, whatever. We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.” The implication of “whatever” hung heavily in the air. As knowing laughter erupted inside, I didn’t stand there playing the tragic victim. I turned the handle and pushed the door wide open. The laughter died instantly. Several people lounging around the sleek office snapped their heads toward the doorway, their expressions freezing in horror. Kelly turned. The smirk vanished from her lips, replaced by pure shock. “Noah? How did you…” She recovered quickly, striding toward me with frantic steps. “You got here so fast. Didn’t I tell you to call me from the lobby so I could come down?” I didn’t say a word. I just looked at her. My silence gnawed at her composure. She swallowed hard, testing the waters. “Did you… hear any of that?” “We were just messing around. It’s just office banter, Noah. I promise, next month, I will personally make sure your residency application goes through.” I remained completely silent. My eyes moved past her, slowly taking in the faces of the people who had just been laughing at my expense. After a long minute, I spoke. My voice was steady, void of any emotion. “Don’t bother. Clearly, I chose a bad time to drop by. I didn’t mean to interrupt your little brainstorming session.” “If you’re so busy, we’ll leave it at that.” I had heard enough. Confronting her about the marriage fraud in front of her sycophants wouldn’t give me closure. It would only make me look like a pathetic, jealous joke. I wasn’t going to humiliate myself any further. My flight was leaving tonight. All I wanted was to pack my essential documents and walk out of her life forever. But as I turned to leave, a hand clamped down on my sleeve. Paul. “Noah, wait. Please don’t leave. It’s not what it looks like.” “Kelly and I only got married for the paperwork. Please, I’m begging you, don’t be mad at her because of me.” My brow furrowed in utter disgust. The sheer audacity of him playing the peacemaker when I was the one being ripped apart made my blood boil. I looked down at him with ice in my veins. “If you really cared about my feelings, you would let go of my arm.” Instead of letting go, Paul gripped the fabric tighter, his knuckles turning white. “No. I won’t let go until you forgive us. I won’t let you ruin things with Kelly.” He buckled his knees, acting as if he was about to drop to the floor in repentance. “Noah, please. Just forgive her. I swear to you, the second my status is permanent, I will sign the divorce papers. I swear.” His pathetic display drew sympathetic looks from the crowd, and their stares turned toward me, judging me for being so cruel to the poor, helpless assistant. Even the most patient man has a breaking point. Facing this shameless manipulation, the anger finally snapped loose. “Drop the act.” “Your mother was a parasite who used her friendship to crawl into my father’s bed. And look at you. You’re doing the exact same thing, using the ‘little brother’ routine to crawl into Kelly’s. And now you want my forgiveness?” “What, do you share the family trait? You love destroying homes but still demand a round of applause?” The words hit their mark. Paul gasped, and Kelly’s protective instincts flared. She stepped between us, her eyes blazing with fury. “That is enough.” “Watch your mouth, Noah. If we have a problem, we handle it behind closed doors at home. Stop acting like a hysterical lunatic in front of my team. You’re making a fool of yourself.” Seeing her instinctively shield him extinguished the very last ember of hope in my chest. I was completely dead inside. I couldn’t even summon the energy to scream at her. I simply yanked my arm back to free my sleeve from Paul’s suffocating grip. I didn’t even pull hard. “Ah.” Paul let out a theatrical shriek. He threw himself backward, collapsing toward the leather sofa and deliberately grazing his hip against the sharp corner of the glass coffee table. He clutched his side, his face instantly draining of color as he groaned in agony. “It hurts… God, it hurts.” Before I could even process the performance, a harsh shove sent me stumbling backward. Kelly stood over him, glaring at me like I was a monster. “Are you out of your damn mind, Noah?” “Ollie was just trying to fix things, and you get violent?” I looked at her, truly seeing the stranger she had become. “You were standing right there. You saw how little force I used. Are you blind?” “How do you have the nerve to stand there and lecture me about morals?” But Kelly was blinded by rage, and her words became daggers designed to inflict maximum pain. “So what if you didn’t push him hard? Let me remind you of something, Noah.” “I am the one who has paid for your life for the last five years.” “As of this second, your credit cards are frozen. Your access code to the house is revoked. Without me funding your life, you are nothing but a stray dog in this city.” She didn’t spare me another glance. She knelt down, wrapping her arms around a whimpering Paul to help him stand. She barked at her stunned coworkers. “Don’t just stand there. Get the car. We’re taking him to the ER right now.” The room emptied in a chaotic rush. I was left completely alone in the sprawling office, rubbing my aching shoulder where she had shoved me. A quiet, self-deprecating smile touched my lips. I shook my head. Look at you, Noah. This is what you get for trading your youth and your pride for love. It was better this way. There was nothing left to hold onto. I knew Kelly well. When she made a threat, she followed through. I didn’t even care to go back to the house to pack clothes. If she claimed she bought everything for me, taking those things would only make me feel filthy. Thankfully, I had brought my passport and essential IDs to the immigration office that morning. That was all I needed to vanish. I walked out of the building, hailed a cab, and told the driver to take me straight to the airport. Deep down, Kelly probably suspected Paul was faking it. But she couldn’t resist the urge to punish me. Her friends had fed her ego. She had financed a luxurious life for me, so in her mind, I owed her absolute obedience. Even if she crossed a line, she expected me to accept a half-hearted apology and sweep it under the rug. Because she was the one paying the bills. With that twisted logic in her head, she froze the cards and locked the smart home system. An hour later, a text buzzed on my phone. “Do you realize you’re out of line yet?” “Get to the hospital and apologize to Ollie. Do that, and I’ll consider letting this go.” But Kelly forgot one crucial detail. I had a family, a degree, and friends back home. I wasn’t some stray begging for scraps. I gave up my world because I loved her. Reading that message, I didn’t feel anger. I just felt a profound sense of comedy. I glanced at the screen, swiped the notification away, and didn’t reply. Three hours passed. Night fell completely over the city. My silence was highly unusual. Without legal status, I didn’t have a personal bank account here. The streets of this city were notoriously dangerous after dark, and I rarely carried more than fifty dollars in cash. I couldn’t even afford a motel room. Kelly must have realized that pushing me into the streets at night wasn’t a game to play. Unable to shake her anxiety, she texted me again five hours later. “I unlocked the doors and the cards. Go home.” “Don’t wander around outside, it’s not safe. We’ll sit down and talk like adults when I get back.” I didn’t answer. Another hour ticked by. Kelly checked the banking app. Zero transactions on my card. She pulled up the security cameras at the front door. The porch had been empty since the afternoon. Wandering the streets past midnight with no money, no car, and no destination. A cold spike of panic finally pierced Kelly’s arrogance. She began pacing the hospital corridor, her thumb hovering over the screen, typing and deleting repeatedly. Finally, she sent one last message. “Stop this. Come home.” I didn’t reply to that one either. I was standing at the boarding gate. I read the text, calmly blocked her number, deleted her contact, and powered down the device. I stepped into the cabin without a single backward glance. As the plane thundered down the runway and lifted into the night sky, I watched the glittering grid of the city shrink into nothingness. There were no tears. There was no regret. There was only the sweet release of freedom. Goodbye, Kelly. Let’s never cross paths again. Back at the hospital, my absolute silence was driving Kelly insane. She finally swallowed her pride and prepared to call me, but her phone lit up first. It was Sarah, a mutual friend from our university days. “Hey babe, I just landed at the airport. I wanted to surprise you guys, so I didn’t ask for a ride. You promised you and Noah were going to show me around the city, right?” “But the weirdest thing just happened. I swear I just saw Noah at the international terminal. He was boarding a flight back home.” “Did he leave the country?”

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I was in the middle of a performance review at the office when I received news of my husband’s death. My boss patted my shoulder, telling me to accept my loss with grace. I held myself together, gave a shaky salute, and then went home. Once there, the delivery guy called, saying he had a package that required my signature. The moment I opened the box, I froze. Inside were two pairs of underwear, stained with a milky white substance, and at the bottom of the box, a dozen used condoms. There was also a note that read: “Mrs. Peterson, I’ve taken Mr. Peterson for myself.” Another note said: “Afraid you’d be too lonely, so I mailed you some of Mr. Peterson’s things. No need to thank me, darling.” … So that’s how he “sacrificed” himself. I sat in the living room for three hours, numb. I didn’t go to the funeral home to mourn. Instead, I printed out documents, preparing to get a death certificate. No matter what, legally, I needed to confirm my husband’s death today. I walked into Human Resources. The door behind me clanged shut, cutting off the sunlight from outside. “Ms. Quan.” A young administrator greeted me. She probably hadn’t handled a case like mine before. “My… my condolences.” I nodded at her, saying nothing. My condolences? I wanted to beat drums and blow trumpets, celebrating his ultimate demise. I walked straight to the service window, pulled the documents from my briefcase, and placed them on the counter. “Hello, I’m here to process the death certificate for my husband, Commander Peterson.” A woman in her fifties, wearing reading glasses, sat behind the window. She looked up at me, her eyes filled with a flicker of pity. She probably mistook me for a grieving spouse who was abnormally calm due to shock. Good. Saved me the trouble of acting. The office was quiet. Those around us pretended to be busy, but their ears were probably perked up like antennae. “Ms. Quan,” “Commander Peterson… he was a hero to us. The organization will not forget his contributions, nor will it neglect the family of a hero.” I forced a smile. “Thank you, I understand. Please, just process it according to procedure.” She sighed, said no more, and began typing on her computer. I stood there, my gaze falling on my blurry reflection in the window glass. A faint scar above my eyebrow shimmered under the light. This face had been with Commander Peterson from his humble beginnings to his decorated achievements. Everyone said I was his virtuous wife, his strongest pillar of support. They were right. Without me, Commander Peterson was nothing. “Here, family signature.” The officer handed me a form and a pen. I took the pen and saw the space after “Spouse,” where my name was required. That word, now, wasn’t an identity; it was a qualification. The qualification to legally take control of all his assets, the qualification to dismantle all his lies, the admission ticket to send him to hell. My pen pressed hard, signing “Evelyn Quan.” The force was so great it almost tore through the paper. The officer retrieved the form, picked up a red stamp, and forcefully pressed it onto the final certificate. “Thud!” She handed the paper with the crimson stamp, along with the subsidy application form, through the window. “Ms. Quan, the paperwork is done.” I took the paper, folded it, and tucked it into the closest pocket near my chest. That spot, once, was where I kept photos of us together. “Thank you.” I said, then turned and left. Pushing open the heavy door, blinding sunlight rushed in. I pulled out my phone and dialed a number I knew by heart. “Run a check on an account for me,” My voice was cold as ice, “Commander Peterson’s special offshore account. I need all his financial transactions from the past year, not a single one missing.” The certificate with the red stamp hadn’t even warmed in my pocket when the call came back. “Ev, I found it.” “Commander Peterson’s account has thirty-seven procurement records in the past year, but one three-million-dollar fund bypassed regular procedures and went directly into an offshore anonymous account.” “Can it be traced?” “No,” She answered bluntly, “The recipient is a top expert. All paths have been destroyed. To trace it, we’d have to start from the original paper documents—see who signed off and which approval channel it went through.” “Got it, thanks.” Early the next morning, I put on my work uniform and went straight to the archives. The archives had a scent of old paper and dust, making my nose itch. The archivist saw me and immediately stood up from her chair. “Ms. Quan, what brings you here? You could have just called, and I would have brought it to you.” “I’m here to find something.” I was concise. “What exactly?” “All files from Commander Peterson’s last mission, including logistics and supply requisitions.” The archivist’s expression froze. She wrung her hands. “Ms. Quan, this… this isn’t allowed. Mission files, especially those involving fatalities, are sealed. As family, you should avoid any appearance of impropriety…” I ignored her “rules,” walked past her, and headed for the row of metal cabinets. From memory, I quickly located the section marked “Highly Classified.” My hand rested on the handle of one of the cabinets, about to pull it open. “Ms. Quan.” I turned. A ranking officer in uniform stood not far away, wearing gold-rimmed glasses. Her eyes behind the lenses were calm and sharp, fixed on me. She also held a file folder, apparently there to check documents herself. I didn’t know her. “Can I help you?” I asked. She pushed up her glasses, walked over, and stopped in front of me, her gaze falling on the metal cabinet by my hand. “According to regulations, the files for this mission have been sealed. Access requires special authorization from a superior officer.” Her voice, like her demeanor, was devoid of warmth, strictly business. I released the handle, turning to her, and forced a weary smile befitting a “grieving widow.” “My apologies, I just… wanted to look at the records of his last mission again. I want to know what he went through in his final moments.” The excuse was flawless, full of emotion, enough to silence anyone with a shred of sympathy. She quietly watched me for a few seconds. Then, she smiled too. “Is that so?” She softly countered, then leaned forward slightly, lowering her voice to a volume only we could hear. “I thought Ms. Quan would be more interested in the amount of the death benefits.” I stared into her eyes behind the lenses. There was no sympathy there, only scrutiny and probing. I deepened my feigned weariness, my voice taking on a hint of offended hoarseness. “Ma’am, my husband just died, his body barely cold. I’m just a widow wanting to know what he last experienced. As for the death benefits,” I paused, looking directly at her, “That’s an honor he earned with his life. Of course I care. What, is there a problem with that?” She pushed up her glasses, not pursuing the topic. Instead, she stepped back half a pace. “My condolences. But regulations are regulations, Ms. Quan. Without authorization, no one can see them.” “The memorial service is about to begin.” The archivist behind her scurried over, as if she’d found a savior. “Ms. Quan, please hurry. The senior officers have all arrived. As family, you can’t be late!” I took one last look at the metal cabinet, then turned and left. Alright, rules, huh? I love playing by the rules. Commander Peterson’s memorial service was of high stature. The auditorium was packed, a sea of dark uniforms. His enlarged black-and-white photo hung prominently in the center, showing him in his crisp uniform. I sat in the very middle of the first row, holding his portrait. The ceremony proceeded, with speeches from senior officers and eulogies from comrades. Just then, a small commotion erupted at the back of the auditorium. I didn’t need to turn around to know who it was. Barbie Seiple. She had indeed arrived, and with quite a show. Two male dancers from her troupe flanked her, helping her along. She wore a pristine white performance gown, starkly conspicuous amidst the sea of uniforms. Her innocent face was drenched in tears, her lips bitten pale, as if a gust of wind could topple her. Well, well, someone might think the memorial was being held for her. She was supported as she walked, step by step, her destination clear—the empty seat next to me. That seat was reserved for the closest family. She wanted to sit there. All eyes in the auditorium converged on us. This was getting interesting. She stopped beside me, her voice choked with sobs. “Mrs. Peterson… I’m so sorry, I’m late… I… I just couldn’t stand when I heard the news about Commander Peterson…” As she spoke, her knees buckled, and she began to sway towards me. I didn’t move. Just as she was about to lean on my shoulder, ready to perform a melodramatic scene of “we both loved him, let’s comfort each other,” I, holding his portrait, stood up. I turned to her, my movements slow, my gaze traveling from her tear-swollen eyes to her white dress, utterly inappropriate for the occasion. “Which unit are you with?” I spoke, my voice low, yet it cut like a cold blade. She froze, her sobbing pausing for half a second. “I’m… Barbie Seiple from the dance troupe. Commander Peterson, he…” “Madam.” I cut her off, raising my voice slightly, enough for the senior officers in the first three rows to hear clearly. “A memorial service is a solemn and respectful occasion, with explicit dress code requirements. Your attire is inappropriate.” I took a step forward, holding Commander Peterson’s portrait, blocking her view of the officers. “Furthermore, this is the family section.” I looked at her, enunciating each word. “Your place is with your unit, in the back. Now, please return to where you belong.” Barbie’s face instantly went from ashen to crimson, then back to ashen. She stood there, like a clown stripped naked in public. She probably thought I would argue, make a scene, or at least silently condone her performance for sympathy. A mere clown. I didn’t even need to lift a finger. Rules and discipline would clearly tell her—she didn’t belong. The memorial service ended, and I returned home with Commander Peterson’s portrait. The house was empty, no different from when he was away on assignment, but I knew this time, he wouldn’t be coming back. At least, not as my husband. They wouldn’t let me see the files? No problem. Rules are rigid; people are flexible. As an information warfare expert in a specialized unit, I had plenty of ways to see what I wanted to see. I opened a specially modified laptop, bypassing conventional paths, and directly entered the Southern Command’s mission database. The entire process took less than ten minutes. Commander Peterson was a logistics officer; he couldn’t have imagined that his wife could so easily tear through his proudly built firewall. All the data about his last mission unfolded before me, entry by entry. Mission brief, travel routes, logistical supply requests, casualty reports. Everything looked flawless. I pulled up all associated information preceding the mission’s initiation. An inconspicuous dynamic brief was retrieved from the depths of the data. The brief stated that a border patrol unit had detected signs of small-scale hostile activity, urgently requiring a batch of specialized communication equipment. It was this very brief that directly led to Commander Peterson’s “perilous” transport mission. The problem was, the source of this brief was tagged “Snow Wolf Assault Team.” The Snow Wolf Assault Team was my former unit. During that period, they were not conducting missions in that region at all. The records were clear: they were undergoing wilderness survival training in another jungle, three hundred kilometers away. I magnified the digital signature of the message file. Beneath layers of encrypted code, I found the original issuance key. The key belonged to Commander Peterson. He had forged a front-line message. Using the name of my unit, he forged a message significant enough to mobilize an entire transport echelon. This wasn’t simple greed, not a minor financial scheme. This was a treasonous felony that could shake the very foundations of the organization. If confirmed, a special tribunal would make him regret ever being born. So this was his true Achilles’ heel. Faking his death to escape, embezzling funds—these were just the surface. What he truly wanted to hide was this. I leaned back in my chair, my heart pounding in my chest. I thought I was just catching a cheating spouse; I never expected to stumble upon a bomb capable of destroying an entire unit. Just then, my personal phone “pinged.” It was a multimedia message from an unknown number. I tapped to open it. Azure skies, turquoise waters, white sandy beach chairs, and Barbie, in a bikini, intimately nestled in Commander Peterson’s arms. Commander Peterson held her, a smile on his face I had never seen before. The background of the photo was a locally distinctive seven-star sail-shaped hotel. Below the photo, a line of text read: [Mrs. Peterson, Commander Peterson would rather fake his death than not be with me.] [You had him for so many years; now he’s mine.] I looked at that foolish, triumphant face and suddenly laughed. The heavens truly helped me. I was racking my brain trying to find them, and they delivered their address right to my doorstep. I put down my phone, picked up another encrypted device, and dialed the number of a distant cousin of Barbie’s from her hometown. I had arranged to get it earlier. “Hello, who is this?” “Hello, I’m from the Family Welfare Committee. Regarding Barbie Seiple’s application for special medical assistance for a family genetic illness, we need family members to verify the situation.” “What? What illness?” The woman on the other end of the phone was clearly bewildered. “Our family has been as strong as oxen for generations. We don’t have any genetic illnesses!” I hung up. Alright, all done. Evidence of betrayal, hidden location, motive for fraud. I looked at everything spread out on the table—the forged message, the boastful photo on my phone, and that phrase I’d just written down: “Our family doesn’t have any genetic illness.” Commander Peterson, Barbie Seiple. You’re in for a treat. I arrived at the Tribunal without an appointment. The guard at the gate stopped me. I showed the faint scar above my eyebrow and handed over my ID. “Special Information Unit, Evelyn Quan. I need to see Director Rogers.” The guard glanced at my ID, then at me, a hint of surprise in his eyes, but he quickly saluted and let me pass. I walked straight to Director Rogers’s office door; it wasn’t fully closed. I didn’t knock, just pushed the door open and walked in. Director Rogers looked up, and seeing me, he clearly paused. “Ms. Quan,” he pushed up his gold-rimmed glasses. “My condolences.” I took an encrypted USB drive and several paper documents from my briefcase. “Director Rogers, you said last time that everything is based on evidence.” “This is the intelligence related to Commander Peterson’s last mission.” I pushed the forged border message across the table to him. “Issued under the name of the Snow Wolf Assault Team, signed with Commander Peterson’s encryption key. During that time, my unit was training three hundred kilometers away. This is their complete operational log.” Director Rogers’s gaze fell on the document. He scanned it quickly, then picked it up, examining it carefully. His brow furrowed progressively. I didn’t give him much time to process, plugging the USB drive into his computer. “This is the financial flow from Commander Peterson’s logistics account, ultimately leading to an offshore anonymous account. Totaling nine million seven hundred and twenty thousand.” Next, I pushed the printed copy of the multimedia message photo across. “This is Commander Peterson and Barbie Seiple, two days ago at the Burj Al Arab in Dubai. He’s not dead.” Finally, I placed a summarized transcript of a phone call. “This is my conversation with Barbie Seiple’s relatives from her hometown. Her family comes from three generations of poor farmers, all in good health. No one knows anything about a ‘family genetic illness.’” I finished speaking. The office was dead silent. Director Rogers’s fingers still clutched the forged message, his knuckles white from the pressure. He finished reviewing everything without a word. “Forging military intelligence, faking his death to escape, embezzling public funds, and desertion.” He summarized, word for word, “Ms. Quan, your husband has committed treason.” “Ex-husband,” I corrected him, “I need you to bring him back to face trial in a special tribunal.” “This isn’t your ‘need,’ Ms. Quan.” Director Rogers’s voice was gravely serious. “This is my responsibility, and the responsibility of this uniform I wear. Anyone who defiles its honor must pay the price.” He stood up, walked to me, saluted, and spoke solemnly: “Thank you, Evelyn Quan. You have upheld the dignity of this uniform.” With that, he turned back to his desk and picked up the red encrypted phone. His voice was devoid of any personal emotion, only the resolute and cold tone of command. “Connect me to Sector Two Intelligence. I need to speak directly with Deputy Director Vance.” The call connected quickly. “Director Vance, this is Director Rogers. I’ve uncovered a Level One security incident here and require your department to immediately initiate an international fugitive recovery procedure. Target: Commander Peterson. Yes, the combat hero who just ‘sacrificed’ himself.”

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1 Five days. That was all before this decade-long system quest finally ended. When my wife arrived with her assistant to sign me out, orderlies were pinning me to the floor. Outside, my six-year-old daughter Elle looked at me with disgust. “He’s useless. Let’s take him back as a guard dog.” She added, “Uncle Rowan is Ivy League. He deserves you more than this trash.” Valerie stepped protectively in front of them, expecting an outburst like before. But I just leaned on my bad leg, stood, and nodded calmly. After leaving, I gave her the divorce papers and even surrendered the master bedroom. Once, Elle wished for a new dad on her birthday. I immediately signed emancipation papers. When Rowan tossed intimate photos on the table to provoke me, I just handed him a foil packet. In the bedroom, Valerie demanded angrily how long I’d keep this up. I only left a bottle of lubricant on the nightstand. She was wrong. I wasn’t acting. I just didn’t want either of them anymore. … Valerie threw the items on the nightstand right at my face, her hands covered in fresh hickeys. “Silas, if you want to play the saint, leave the crystal pendant. Rowan had a shock today and he needs it to calm his nerves.” That crystal pendant was the only heirloom my grandmother left me. I had treasured it with my life. Valerie knew that better than anyone. She stared at me with absolute certainty, waiting for me to fall to my knees and beg for my dignity like I always did. Instead, I simply raised my hand, unclasped the chain, and placed the pendant directly into Rowan’s palm. “Is there anything else you want? Ask for it all at once,” I said softly. I was leaving soon anyway. I wouldn’t be taking a single thing from this place. Valerie stared at me in sheer disbelief, a flicker of anger crossing her eyes. “Silas, you better not regret this.” She thought I was throwing a tantrum, playing hard to get to force her to care. She had forgotten, but the memory was burned into my skin. Two years ago, when I tried to fight Rowan for this exact pendant, she ordered her men to strip me naked. I was forced to kneel in the freezing snow, acting as a live target for their archery practice. The biting humiliation of that day still made my chest ache. I lowered my head in submission and turned to leave. Suddenly, a sharp crack echoed through the room. Rowan had deliberately crushed the crystal pendant in his palm. Blood welled up instantly. I turned around, about to call for the family doctor. Before I could speak, an arrow slammed brutally into my shoulder. I staggered, catching myself against the wall. Before I could even process the pain, Valerie shoved me aside to get to Rowan. She carefully cradled his hand, frantically yelling for the doctor to hurry. In the sudden quiet of the room, my precocious daughter stood there, her bow still raised and aimed directly at me. Her face was twisted in disgust. “You make Uncle Rowan unhappy the second you get back. I have to teach you a lesson.” “You piece of filth, why didn’t you just die in the asylum? Having a dad like you makes me…” “Elle!” Valerie snapped, cutting off her cold words. Valerie paused her steps, glanced back at me for a split second, then turned and hurried downstairs. Leaning against her shoulder, Rowan shot me a triumphant smirk. Everyone in our social circle knew Elle was my entire world. But this time, I just calmly pressed a hand over my bleeding shoulder. My voice was completely dead. “You haven’t been my daughter for a long time.” Under Elle’s resentful glare, I placed the signed disownment papers on the table. Then I quietly looked at the child I had once poured my heart and soul into. Elle was remarkably precocious, carrying herself with the rigid solemnity of a miniature adult. Her only real passion was archery. To support her, I had scoured the country for elite coaches and enrolled her in the most prestigious club. When she was four, she used to hold up her little training bow, her eyes shining with absolute adoration. “Daddy, when I master archery, I’m going to protect you.” Yet, the very first time she drew blood with a real arrow, it was aimed straight at my heart. Thankfully, I had long stopped expecting anything from her. My lack of reaction seemed to irritate Elle even more. She threw the bow on the floor, ran downstairs, and threw her arms around Rowan. “Don’t cry, Uncle Rowan. I already punished that shameless bad man for you. Are you happy now?” Her voice was sharp and cruel, but I acted like I heard nothing. I just grabbed the first-aid kit from the corner and retreated to the storage room. Behind me, Valerie’s eyes burned into my back. A wave of inexplicable frustration washed over her. A few minutes later, Valerie pushed open the storage room door, her expression complicated. She watched me struggling to clean the wound on my shoulder and instinctively handed me a bottle of rubbing alcohol. “Elle is just a kid. Don’t hold it against her.” I leaned away, avoiding her touch, and simply whispered an acknowledgment. Valerie’s hand froze in midair. A heavy silence settled between us before a dark fury twisted her features. “Silas, what kind of tantrum are you throwing now?” “If you hadn’t acted completely spineless before, why would our daughter treat you like this?” Spineless. I chewed on the word in my head. If she hadn’t brought it up, I would have almost forgotten. Her definition of “spineless” referred to an incident two years ago. She had wanted to give Elle to Rowan to raise, claiming Rowan suffered from severe depression and a child’s company would cure him. I refused with everything I had. The thought of giving my four-year-old daughter to a strange man terrified me. But my wife backed me into a corner. She told me that if I wanted to keep my daughter, I had to make her assistant happy first. For Elle’s sake, I had no choice. That day, Rowan stood over me with a sneer. He ordered me to drop to my knees, crawl over to him like a dog, lick his shoes clean, and bark while calling him “Daddy.” Those few agonizing seconds of utter degradation were recorded and posted online. Overnight, I became the internet’s favorite joke, mocked as a pathetic submissive dog. That same day, Elle watched the video on a phone. The adoration in her eyes warped into pure disgust. She looked at me coldly and said, “You are such an embarrassment.” A faint throb of pain rippled through my chest. I looked at Valerie and pulled a hollow smile. “You’re right. I am spineless.” My complete apathy infuriated Valerie. She slammed the door and stormed out. When she returned, she ordered her guards to grab me by my injured arm and drag me out. I was violently forced down in front of Rowan, my palms pressing directly into the shattered glass on the floor. “Silas, you deliberately gave Rowan a cracked pendant to cut his hand. Do you admit your mistake?” Mistake. Ever since Rowan showed up, I had been constantly apologizing. Even when Rowan shoved my grandmother’s urn into the lake, somehow, it was still my fault. I pressed my bleeding palms against the floor, closed my eyes, and obediently said, “I was wrong,” three times. Then I looked up at Valerie. “Is that enough?” Valerie’s face turned livid. She grabbed my collar. “Don’t give me that tortured martyr look, Silas!” “Don’t think this act is going to make me feel sorry for you!” Her voice trembled slightly at the end. I didn’t argue. I just kept my weight supported on the floor and gently reminded her, “You are holding onto Mr. Rowan with your other hand. Be careful not to hurt him.” Valerie’s eyes went red. She pointed a trembling finger at the door. “Get out! Get the hell out of here!” I nodded, turned around, and started to walk. But before I reached the exit, Rowan whined. “Valerie, you didn’t even avenge me properly. I’m still upset.” Valerie immediately softened, looking back at me while coaxing him. “Then how about we whip him a few times? Will that make you feel better?” Rowan pretended to hesitate. “Is that allowed?” “Of course it is,” Valerie said coldly. “He’s just a watchdog anyway.” A second later, a heavy leather crop lined with sharp metal barbs slashed across my back, tearing away flesh and cloth. I bit down hard on my lip, swallowing every scream, enduring the agony in dead silence. Valerie and Elle lounged on the sofa, watching me with freezing indifference. It wasn’t until Valerie casually glanced down and saw the massive pool of blood spreading beneath me that her face drastically changed. She lunged forward, trying to support my weight. “Why is there so much blood?” In that exact second, the cold, mechanical voice of the System echoed in my mind. [Return portal initializing. Host’s lifespan has three days remaining. System will now formulate a death trajectory.] Valerie and Elle surrounded me in a panic, shouting for the doctor. “Ah!” Rowan suddenly hissed, grabbing his hand. “Babe, my hand hurts so much. I think there’s still a piece of glass in it.” Hearing his whine, Valerie instantly shoved me away. She grabbed Rowan’s coat and ordered the butler to drive them to the hospital immediately. The living room fell dead silent. I lay on the freezing floor, my body covered in lacerations. The blood flowed faster, and my bones felt like they were being pulverized inch by inch. Yet, a slow smile curved my lips. This was wonderful. Only three days left, and I could finally go home. I was jolted awake by a doctor’s heavy sigh. Seeing my eyes open, he visibly relaxed. “Mr. Silas, you need to beg your wife for permission to use painkillers. Digging out these glass shards without numbing agents could kill you in your current condition.” I listened to his warning with a wooden expression and shook my head. “Just dig them out.” I didn’t care about the pain anymore. I only wanted a quick release. After the agonizing procedure, I stumbled out of the clinic room to pay the bill. I accidentally spotted Valerie standing near the entrance. She glanced at my bandages, then picked up a gift bag and walked straight into Rowan’s private ward. As I limped past the cracked door, I heard my daughter’s sweet, fawning voice. “Don’t be mad, Daddy Rowan. When you get out of the hospital, Mommy and I will help you punish that bad man.” Valerie looked toward the hallway, but she only saw my retreating back. When I finally returned to my own sterile room, Valerie was waiting for me with a thunderous expression. “Where have you been?” I raised the medical receipt as my only answer, then leaned against the bed and closed my eyes. The hostility radiating from Valerie spiked. She stepped forward and grabbed my wrist. “What the hell is this attitude, Silas?” “You haven’t been acting right since you got back.” Her voice trembled, carrying a sick kind of desperation. “You were never like this. Why aren’t you fighting me anymore?” “Are you cheating on me? Is that why you don’t care about me or Elle anymore?” All her pent-up paranoia finally erupted into the open. In the heavy silence that followed, a horrific sound pierced the room. It was the sound of my own voice, sobbing and begging for mercy. The noise came from Rowan’s phone. The screen was lit up, broadcasting a video of the sick abuses I had endured while trying to “learn my lesson” in the psychiatric ward. Every single frame was a living nightmare I was terrified to remember. Seeing the blood drain from my face, Rowan put on a mask of fake panic. “Oh no, Valerie, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to play this in front of you. My sister was just showing it to me to cheer me up. I forgot to turn it off.” All the blood rushed to my head in a blinding wave. So Valerie knew. She knew everything. She knew I was living worse than an animal for two years. She knew I was being tortured until I begged for death. But in her eyes, my personal hell was nothing more than a funny video to entertain her lover. I stared dead at the woman I had cherished and protected with my life for ten years, desperately searching her eyes for a single shred of guilt. But there was nothing. Only irritation at being caught. A harsh, broken laugh tore from my throat. “Valerie, isn’t this exactly what you wanted? Are you not entertained?” The room spun. Black spots danced across my vision. Valerie instinctively reached out to catch me, but the pure hatred in my eyes made her flinch and snap. “It’s your own fault, Silas! If you hadn’t gone crazy and kicked Rowan into the water back then, I wouldn’t have locked you up. At the end of the day, you brought this on yourself.” Behind her, Rowan smugly fanned the flames. “Looks like you didn’t learn a thing in those two years, Silas.” “Allow me to refresh your memory.” He waved the phone maliciously, then sent the video directly to my younger sister, Sophie, who had just been transferred out of the ICU. Sophie was the only family I had left in this world. The final thread holding my sanity together snapped. I grabbed a surgical scalpel from the medical tray and lunged straight for his chest. Even if I died today, I was dragging him to hell with me. But before the blade could even graze him, Valerie shoved me violently to the floor. Hearing the commotion, Elle rushed into the room. She grabbed an empty IV glass bottle and smashed it directly against my face. “Die, you psycho! Just die!” she shrieked. Through a blinding haze of blood, I looked up. Valerie and Elle stood over me, looking down like I was trash. “Two years in the ward, and you’re still completely toxic, Silas. Trying to murder Rowan right in front of me?” My vision was swimming, but a sense of profound, liberating irony washed over me. I raised an eyebrow, speaking slowly, letting every word slice through the air. “Do you want to know my biggest regret in life, Valerie? It’s meeting you. And spawning that little monster.” Valerie’s face lost all its color. Elle froze, staring at me blankly, unable to comprehend that those words actually came out of my mouth. After a suffocating silence, Elle tightened her jaw and turned away. “Mommy, he still hasn’t learned the rules. You better send him back to that place until he does.” Valerie closed her eyes, her expression hardening into stone. “You’re right. Some people are just born with cheap bones. They need to be broken before they learn.” She pulled out her phone and made a single call. Minutes later, the orderlies from the psychiatric ward marched into the room. The sheer sight of their uniforms triggered violent tremors through my body. Flashbacks of being electrocuted, starved, and humiliated assaulted my brain. I clutched my head, scrambling backward until my back hit the wall. Valerie frowned at my severe trauma response. She stepped forward, trying to pull me into her arms to calm me down, but I shoved her away like she was venomous. “Stay away from me! Don’t touch me!” That rejection shattered the last bit of Valerie’s patience. She rubbed her stinging hand, her eyes darkening as she gestured for the orderlies to tie me up. Drowning in absolute terror, I grabbed Valerie’s wrist. My voice was broken, trembling uncontrollably. “Valerie, please don’t send me back. I’m begging you, please.” “I’ll do whatever you want. If you want me to act crazy, I’ll act crazy. If you want me to apologize, I’ll apologize. Just don’t send me back to that place.” It was the very last time I would ever plead with her. But Rowan simply whispered, “Babe, looking at him is giving me anxiety. Just send him away.” And with those words, Valerie pried my fingers off her wrist, one by one. I looked at her, tears streaming down my face as I laughed. It was always like this. Two years ago, it was the exact same. No matter what I did, I could never outweigh a single sentence from Rowan. It was Rowan who threw my grandmother’s ashes into the lake. I fought back and shoved him into the water. But Valerie refused to listen to a word I said. She threw me in the asylum without blinking. I let out a soft chuckle, dropping my hands, and let the orderlies drag me away without another struggle. In that dark, damp cell, just before the electrocution and humiliation began, the System mercifully blocked my pain receptors. Even so, the next morning, I was dumped back at the front door of our house, barely breathing, like a beaten dog on the verge of death. When I opened my eyes, Valerie was glaring impatiently, tossing a bottle of pills at my feet. “Enough with the act. If you’ve learned the rules, come inside.” The second I stepped through the door, Rowan smiled brightly. “Babe, I want to run a little emotional stability test on Silas.” As he spoke, my sister Sophie, covered in surgical bandages and breathing tubes, was wheeled into the living room by the guards. My heart slammed against my ribs. I tried to run to her, but Rowan’s men forced me to my knees. “Don’t rush the show, Silas. The test is just starting.” Rowan grabbed Sophie by her hair and shoved the phone playing my torture video right into her face. “Since you wouldn’t watch the clip I sent, I’ll just have to show it to you in person.” Sophie struggled frantically, fresh blood seeping through her fresh sutures. “Rowan, he is innocent! Leave him alone!” Seeing the tears streaming down my sister’s face, I panicked and started begging. “Valerie, you promised me! You promised that if I stayed quietly in the ward for two years, you wouldn’t touch Sophie!” But before my words even landed, the piercing, continuous wail of the heart monitor filled the room. I stared in frozen horror. Rowan had yanked Sophie’s life-support tube clean out. “Oops. My hand slipped.” “You animal! You fucking bastard!” I screamed, my eyes completely bloodshot as I thrashed wildly, but the guards held me down like a vice. All I could do was watch my sister take her last, suffocating breath right in front of me. My brain buzzed with static. A sharp, physical tearing sensation erupted in my chest. Just as the grief threatened to crush me, the System’s voice echoed. [Host, the return portal is now open. Commencing countdown: 3… 2…] The mechanical voice blended with Valerie’s annoyed reprimands. Elle stood nearby, irritated by my devastation. She crossed her arms and sneered. “Why are you acting so dramatic? If you’re really that sad, go bash your head in and join that bitch in hell.” “She got what she deserved. Who told her to hire thugs to beat up Uncle Rowan while you were locked up?” I curled into myself, trembling in agony, and slowly raised my head to look at my sister’s lifeless body. “Okay,” I whispered. “I’ll go join her.” Summoning every last ounce of strength left in my broken body, I launched myself forward and slammed my head full force into the concrete pillar right next to Valerie.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “421698”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

Two months ago, I received a massive batch of blood samples for a DNA paternity test at the lab. My coworker gossiped that the applicant had absolutely no idea who the father of her child was, so she brought in a sample from every single potential candidate. There were exactly sixty-six vials. Peeking through the blinds of my office, I realized the applicant was none other than my ex-husband’s new wife. It brought my mind back to the day he handed me the divorce papers. “Mary consulted an astrologer. She says a spring baby brings ultimate wealth to a family, so she wants to give birth next spring. We can’t wait any longer,” he had said smoothly. “I waited until your day off to tell you. I didn’t want you getting distracted at the lab,” he added, as if doing me a favor. “You can’t conceive anyway. Just sign the papers. When the baby is born, you can be the godmother.” That sentence pierced me like a physical blade. I didn’t argue. I simply signed my name in silence. The truth was, I already knew everything. On New Year’s Eve, while I was pulling a graveyard shift at the clinic, Archer had taken my then-best friend to an exclusive midnight wishing ceremony at a cathedral to pray for a speedy marriage. Throughout the holidays, he took that woman shopping at luxury boutiques in Paris, booked a ski resort in the Alps, and even maxed out my credit card buying her astronomical gifts. 1 Mary’s belly was already showing. She was at least five months along. The margin of error for her conception window was barely a week. I looked down at the tray of samples in my hands. I couldn’t even fathom the logistics behind gathering sixty-six different vials from sixty-six different men. When we divorced, Archer swore that what he loved most about Mary was her absolute purity. I honestly thought he had found some innocent, untouched little flower. Turns out, this was his idea of pure. When I first got pregnant during our marriage, I woke up in the middle of the night with blinding cramps. Blood soaked the sheets. I reached for the other side of the bed, only to find it completely cold. Panicked and terrified, my hands shook violently as I dialed his number. The phone rang for an eternity before a woman’s voice finally answered. “Hello?” I pulled the phone back to check the screen. It was definitely Archer’s number. Ignoring everything else, I desperately pleaded into the receiver. “Where is Archer? Put him on the phone, my stomach is killing me.” Then, Archer’s muffled voice drifted through the speaker from the background. “Babe, get in bed. I just finished my shower.” My heart plummeted into an abyss. The pain radiating through my body turned into a paralyzing numbness. In my panicked state, I quickly hung up the phone. By the time I woke up from the emergency surgery, I was lying weakly in a sterile hospital bed. Archer finally strolled into the room, entirely unhurried, only because his parents had nagged him into coming. There was no pity in his eyes. No worry for the baby. He just stood coldly at the foot of my bed, staring at my pale, sickly face. “A woman is a man’s ultimate accessory. How am I supposed to take you out to events looking like a walking corpse?” I gripped the bedsheets, my voice hoarse. “Don’t you want to know what happened to the baby?” “I know. You just had the scraping procedure. The kid washed out.” I froze. He thought I had just gone in for a routine, elective abortion. He thought the baby was simply gone. There wasn’t a single trace of regret on his face. I bit my lip so hard I tasted copper. All the grievance and agony bubbling in my throat was forcefully swallowed back down. Archer casually tossed a high-end spa gift card onto my blanket. His phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen, and his entire demeanor instantly brightened. “Artie, why aren’t you back yet?” a sickeningly sweet voice whined through the speaker. “I have insomnia. I can’t fall asleep without you holding me.” That sugary tone worked like magic on him. He smiled, his voice dripping with affection. “Be good, Mary. I’m visiting a patient at the hospital. I’ll be back a little later.” The woman on the other end clearly wasn’t happy. “That woman again? She is so annoying. I heard she miscarried. She can’t even keep a baby safe, how embarrassing. If you want a kid, Artie, I can give you one.” Archer’s smile deepened. “I knew my Mary was the best.” “I’ll be back a bit late tonight. I’m going to grab a hotel room to shower first. Hospitals are full of germs, and I don’t want to bring anything back that might affect your health.” “Wait for me, babe.” Archer hung up the phone and didn’t spare me another glance. He simply tossed the divorce papers onto my lap and walked out the door. Watching his retreating back, the very last thread holding my heart together completely snapped. I pulled out my phone and typed a quick text to the Medical Director. “I accept the fellowship program in Germany.” Archer didn’t know the hospital board had been trying to send me overseas for an elite training program. Taking it meant I would officially be next in line for the Director’s position. It was a monumental leap in my medical career. I had hesitated for months, purely because I wanted to prioritize our marriage. The board had urged me multiple times to look at the bigger picture, but my brain had been entirely consumed with rushing home to cook him dinner. It took this absolute betrayal for me to finally wake up and realize what truly mattered in a woman’s life. 2 Mary leaned heavily over the reception counter, looking frantic. “When do I get the results?” “Three days, at the earliest,” the receptionist replied. “What? Three days!” Mary’s face warped with rage, her eyes bulging. “I want to expedite this!” “Go get your manager right now! I am not communicating with a lowly receptionist.” The young girl flushed red, completely overwhelmed. I secured my medical mask and walked out of the double doors. “Ms. Mary, you submitted an incredibly large volume of samples. Three days is already a miracle.” Mary slammed her manicured hand on the desk, her voice shrill. “What is that supposed to mean? Are you mocking me?” “I’m filing a formal complaint against you!” I frowned. “Ms. Mary, if you continue to cause a scene and disrupt our laboratory workflow, we won’t even be able to guarantee the three-day window.” Mary kept hurling insults. “You people better speed it up! If this delays my inheritance and the signing of the equity transfer, I will destroy your lives!” I paused. Archer really did value having an heir. He was actually going to transfer family equity to her. I looked down at the requisition forms in my hand and smiled thinly. “If you feel our processing time is inadequate, you are welcome to take your business elsewhere.” Our facility had the fastest turnaround time in the entire metropolitan area. Mary had definitely done her research. Just as I expected, Mary’s face paled, and her arrogant fire instantly extinguished. I didn’t say another word, turning on my heel back into the lab. My phone dinged in my pocket. I checked the screen. It was an unsaved but deeply familiar number. Archer. “Are you back in the States yet? Find some time so we can transfer the property deed.” When Archer first demanded the divorce, his mother fiercely opposed it. But the second she heard I had miscarried, her attitude flipped completely. Afraid I would drag out the legal process, she promised to give me our ten-million-dollar luxury penthouse as compensation. I had signed the papers and left the country immediately. Now, the moment I landed, his texts started coming in. Archer claimed Mary had fallen in love with the penthouse. “You can’t have kids, and honestly, no man is going to want to marry you now anyway. The place is way too big for just you. Plus, I’d hate for you to live there and be depressed looking at all our old memories.” Reading those texts made me want to laugh out loud. Archer had always been this pathologically narcissistic. He was absolutely certain I was still hopelessly in love with him. I simply typed back one word. “Fine.” I didn’t want a single thing tainted by Archer’s presence. I never wanted to cross paths with him for the rest of my life. I spent the entire day processing Mary’s ridiculous batch of samples. After my shift, a coworker dragged me to a high-end mall for dinner. As fate would have it, we bumped right into Archer and Mary. Mary was clinging to Archer’s arm, looking up at him with a sickeningly sweet blush. “Hubby, the baby is kicking me again.” Archer’s eyes melted with affection. “You’ve worked so hard for us, Mary.” “Once the paternity results come out and I hand them to the board of directors, you’ll officially receive fifty percent of the family conglomerate’s shares.” “You are so good to me, Archer.” Mary leaned into his chest, the picture of a devoted wife. “By the way, about the penthouse…” “Don’t worry about it. I already made it very clear to Nora. That property is my compensation to you.” I stood a few feet away, my thoughts a swirling mess. Archer and I had met through a blind date set up by family friends. People in our circle used to say that when a rich playboy like Archer finally agreed to blind dates, it meant he was done partying. Men like him played hard in their youth, but when it came to marriage, they strictly looked for a quiet, honest woman to anchor them down. The implication was clear. I was the boring, safe anchor. I had never been in a real relationship before. Despite my friends’ warnings, Archer’s aggressive romantic pursuit swept me off my feet entirely. But once the ring was on my finger, the only things I received were apologies and compensations. He bailed on our anniversary. Apologized. He missed my birthday. Apologized. He skipped every prenatal checkup. Apologized. The apologies were given to me, but the compensations were always spent on other women. And like an idiot, I forgave him every single time. I genuinely believed that if I just loved him a little harder, he would eventually turn around and choose me. Looking back now, it was utterly pathetic. Noticing I had spaced out, my coworker nudged my arm. “Nora, what are you zoning out for? Our table is ready.” Her voice echoed in the quiet corridor, catching the attention of the happy couple. Hearing my name, Archer turned his head. His gaze slowly dropped, landing directly on my rounded, pregnant belly. He stood completely frozen. 3 Archer marched over, his expression a chaotic mix of emotions. “You are pregnant?” I didn’t answer. “When did you remarry? The doctors told me you couldn’t…” Archer stammered, losing his composure. Mary’s face darkened. She stepped up, hooking her arm possessively through his, and shot me a triumphant, vicious glare. “Got knocked up the second the divorce papers were signed?” Mary rolled her eyes. “Or maybe you were already pregnant before the divorce?” Right on cue, Archer’s face turned thunderous. “You cheated on me, Nora? And here I thought you were this pure, innocent victim. I treated you so well.” “You are such a disappointment.” He put on a flawless performance of a deeply betrayed, heartbroken man. Anyone watching would think he had loved me to the ends of the earth. One month into our marriage, Archer was caught by the paparazzi hooking up with a supermodel in his sports car. I had gone to a VIP club to confront him, face pale and hands shaking. Standing outside his private booth, I heard his frat brothers teasing him. “Archer, you’ve barely been married a month. Aren’t you worried the little wife will find out and lose her mind?” “Her? She’s as naive as a daisy. I just spin a basic lie and she eats it right up.” The entire room erupted in laughter. “That’s the kind of girl you marry. Easy to manage.” That single sentence nailed my feet to the floor. That was how he repaid my innocence. That was his version of treating me well. I looked at Archer now and let out a cold laugh. “Archer, we are legally divorced.” “My pregnancy has absolutely nothing to do with you.” I grabbed my coworker’s arm to leave, but Mary shoved herself in front of us, blocking our path. “Since we’re officially divorced, isn’t it time you handed over the penthouse?” A crowd of onlookers was quickly forming around us. Mary deliberately pitched her voice higher. “You cheated on him during the marriage, and now you’re trying to steal a ten-million-dollar property? You’re nothing but a gold-digging scammer!” The crowd ignited instantly. Whispers and pointed fingers surrounded me from all sides. “Have some shame!” “Women like her ruin society.” “Sue her! Make her give the house back!” Phone cameras flashed blindingly in my face. The insults lashed at me like physical whips. Humiliated, I glanced at Archer. He stood right across from me, his face carved from ice. He didn’t have the slightest intention of clearing my name. The crowd surged forward, and someone shoved me hard from behind. I lost my footing and crashed onto the hard marble floor. In the chaos, my coworker desperately grabbed my hand to break the fall. As I looked up, I caught a fleeting, venomous smirk on Mary’s face. A sharp, dull ache bloomed in my abdomen. My coworker shrieked and dialed 911. When I woke up in the hospital, the internet was flooded with viral posts destroying my reputation. People called me a cheater, a scam artist, and even a home-wrecker. I calmly called my lawyer, gave him full power of attorney over the penthouse, and ordered him to finalize the transfer to Archer immediately. I rested in the hospital for a day before returning to the lab. My assistant met me with Mary’s remaining requisition forms. They couldn’t finish the last batch. Mary hadn’t provided enough amniotic fluid. “Call her. Tell her she needs to come in.” Suddenly, the laboratory doors were pushed open. “Archer, I’m bringing the report directly to the board tomorrow. We really don’t need to check on it today.” Archer walked in, practically dragging a reluctant Mary behind him. “Are the results out yet?” He looked up and our eyes locked. He frowned, but before he could speak, Mary gasped. “What are you doing here, you bitch?” A split second later, sheer panic washed over her face. I curled my lips into a smirk. “We ran out of amniotic fluid. We need to extract a little more.” “That’s impossible! I gave you so much!” I kept my eyes locked on her and stayed silent. Mary’s guilty conscience was suffocating her. She didn’t dare say another word. “Go,” Archer commanded. “This facility is the only one authorized by the board of directors. We must secure this specific report.” Visibly trembling but unable to defy Archer, Mary followed my assistant into the examination room. A few minutes later, a blood-curdling scream pierced the air. “Ah!” Archer burst into the examination room. Mary was writhing on the medical bed, the lower half of her dress completely soaked in blood. The stark white sheets were stained a blinding, horrifying red. “Hubby, Nora did this… my baby.” Archer spun around, his eyes bloodshot with rage. He raised his hand and delivered a brutal, full-force slap across my face. My cheek swelled instantly, and the metallic taste of blood seeped from the corner of my mouth. “Nora, you harmed my child. Today, I am going to make you pay.” 4 My assistant broke down in terrified sobs. “Director, I swear I don’t know why she started hemorrhaging! I didn’t even do anything yet!” “It’s okay. I believe you.” I wiped the blood from my lip and gently patted her shoulder. “Archer, her bleeding has absolutely nothing to do with us.” Acting as if she had been deeply triggered, Mary shrieked at the top of her lungs. “It was you!” “You’re jealous! You’re jealous that I took Archer away from you, so you planned to murder my baby!” The veins in Archer’s neck bulged as he glared at me like a mortal enemy. “Nora, how long are you going to haunt my life?” “I told you, I stopped loving you a long time ago.” “I haven’t even settled the score with you for cheating on me, and now you cross the line and try to kill my heir?” He lunged forward, his large hand clamping violently around my throat. “Let me make this crystal clear. If anything happens to my kid…” He dropped his gaze to my pregnant belly, his voice dropping into a lethal threat. “…you won’t be keeping yours either.” Real panic set in. “Archer, I’m telling you, we didn’t touch her.” Archer ignored me completely. The OBGYN team rushed into the room. They managed to stabilize Mary and save the baby. She was ordered to remain on strict bed rest for several weeks. Hearing the news, the murderous tension drained from Archer’s face. “Mary, you terrified me. Thank God our baby is safe.” He wrapped his arms around her, his eyes shining with tears. “Archer, I was so scared. I thought I was never going to see you again.” Mary’s tears flowed perfectly on cue, twisting Archer’s heart into knots. “Archer, you have to get justice for me.” My expression hardened. I turned around to leave the room, but Archer sprinted ahead, slamming the door shut and blocking my exit. “Think you can just walk away?” His eyes were dark and venomous, radiating a chilling cruelty. A shiver ran down my spine. “What do you want?” “I want you to apologize to my wife. On your knees. You will kneel there until she decides she is satisfied.” I didn’t answer, pushing my weight against him to move him aside. He didn’t budge an inch. “You better think about the baby in your belly, Nora. It would be a tragedy if something happened to it.” I instinctively wrapped my arms protectively around my stomach. My due date was rapidly approaching. My body couldn’t handle physical trauma. “Be a good girl and kneel. If we’re in a forgiving mood, maybe we’ll let you walk out of here intact.” Looking at their ruthless, utterly devoid-of-empathy faces, a suffocating despair washed over me. Tears burned the back of my eyes, but I bit the inside of my cheek to keep them from falling. Slowly, I bent my legs, the cold tile biting into my knees as I lowered myself to the ground. The sheer humiliation drowned me like a tidal wave. I knelt there for an entire night. By morning, my knees were entirely numb, and the agonizing strain on my lower back was unbearable. It was time for the board meeting. Mary opened the door, her makeup flawless. Before she left, she leaned down and whispered in my ear. “I know exactly what you’re plotting. But guess what? I don’t need your lab report anymore.” With a victorious smirk, she strutted away. My assistant rushed into the room, tears streaming down her face as she helped me off the floor. “Director, are you okay?” she sobbed. I staggered to my feet and took the finalized DNA report she handed me. I flipped it open. The probability of paternity was absolute zero. The child was definitively not Archer’s. I rested a hand on my belly and a cold smile touched my lips. At the corporate headquarters, the Chairman reviewed the independent appraisal Mary had handed in. “Board members, the conglomerate has a strict tradition. Any woman carrying the direct bloodline of the family is entitled to fifty percent of the shares. It is our law.” “You have all reviewed the documentation. If there are no objections, let us proceed with the signing.” A radiant, greedy joy illuminated Mary’s face. Archer took her hand and gently guided her to the signing podium. “Mary, you are the greatest blessing to this family. This equity is a symbol of my devotion to you.” Overcome with emotion, Mary leaned up and kissed him. “Thank you, my love.” She stepped up to the podium and picked up the solid gold fountain pen. Just as the nib was about to touch the parchment, the heavy mahogany doors of the boardroom violently burst open. “I object.”

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While scrolling on my phone to kill time during my lunch break, a post titled “To My Ex” abruptly caught my eye. The post reeked of a condescending superiority complex: “I know you’re still hung up on me. Stop secretly stalking my stories. We’re very happy now.” The poster even had the audacity to write, “When I take her to see the guys, I never demand she wear a full face of makeup. I’ll go out of my way to buy her favorite gift just because she took an extra bite of a certain dessert. Everything I didn’t do with you, I’ve experienced with her.” At the very end of the post, he left a soul-crushing final thought: “Maybe you weren’t wrong back then. I really never loved you.” Reading this wall of text, a wave of inexplicable anger rushed straight to my head. I thought to myself, why is everyone on the internet so full of themselves these days? I was just about to click into the comment section to leave a sarcastic remark. But the next second, when I caught a glimpse of the initials “SW” in the pinned comment, my blood instantly ran cold. Sierra Winters. Those were my initials! My heart sank heavily. I immediately clicked on the poster’s profile picture. It was unmistakably a back-facing solo portrait I had taken for my ex eight years ago. Frowning deeply, I forced down the nausea churning in my stomach and typed out a harsh reply: “I’ve been married for five years, and my son is almost three. I had no idea I still had an ex I couldn’t get over.” 1 Before I could even hit send on that comment, a friend request popped up at the top of my screen. Tapping into it, that familiar profile picture stung my eyes once again. It was a cartoon avatar I had hand-drawn based on a portrait I took for Nolan, back when my wrist was still intact. My heartbeat inexplicably skipped a couple of beats. Taking a deep breath, I pushed down the irritation building in my chest and hit accept. That old muscle memory of always replying to his messages instantly was apparently still lingering. But after all the toxic garbage we had been through, there was absolutely nothing left to say between us. Still, out of basic human decency, I sent a message over. [Please stop feeding the photos I took of you into AI generators to make your avatars. And take that picture off your main page so people don’t get the wrong idea.] The moment the message went through, a barrage of rapid-fire replies flooded the blank chat box. [I knew you weren’t over me. Nobody else would get the wrong idea but you.] [I made that video specifically for you to see. Stop stalking all my socials like a ghost. My girl will get jealous if she sees it.] It felt like an invisible hand had tightly gripped my heart. I had expected a rational conversation between two adults. Clearly, I was being too naive. Flashing back to that malicious video, I gritted my teeth, my fingers flying across the keyboard to type “You’re really overthinking this”. But before I could finish typing, his messages poured in like a flood again. [I’ve been with her for years now, and she was never the awful person you made her out to be.] [Can you stop acting like a bitter ex and badmouthing her behind her back?] [I know you’re still waiting for me, but no matter how many pointless things you do, we are never getting back together. She is the only woman I love now!] Seeing that last line, my temples throbbed wildly. The sheer absurdity of it made me laugh out of pure anger. With trembling hands, I violently mashed a question mark. [?] [Who has the free time to care about your pathetic drama? I’m married. Get back together? Are you completely delusional?] As soon as that last message was sent, a red exclamation mark popped up on the screen. He had blocked me. I immediately switched back to the social media app. Sure enough, in the latest comment section, he had posted heavily censored screenshots of our chat, only revealing my message telling him to change his avatar. He paired it with a highly inflammatory caption. [I hope a certain someone knows when to stop.] The comment section was instantly swarmed by netizens demanding justice for this “devoted ex.” [This guy has it so rough. Why is this woman using such underhanded tricks? All she did was look at his stories, it’s not like she committed murder.] [Have the people above never seen female jealousy in action? The poster was clearly forced to speak up by his current girlfriend. Otherwise, who would make a whole video calling out an ex just for looking at a few updates? This is just flexing their relationship and rubbing salt in the wound.] [Tsk tsk, this ex-girlfriend is incredibly unlucky. Getting publicly executed years after a breakup. Bet this guy still has feelings for her, got caught by his current girl, and had to post a video to prove his innocence.] Faced with these cynical remarks, Nolan’s reply was unusually calm and certain. [Say whatever you want, it won’t matter. I know her.] Those simple words felt like an incredibly fine needle plunging into my chest without warning. How long had it been since I heard someone talk about me with such unquestionable certainty? Undeniably, he really was once the person who knew me best in this world, the person closest to me. But so what? The deepest understanding is no match for the fickle nature of the human heart. Nolan and I met when we were eight. Until we went our separate ways, we had accompanied each other through sixteen long years. Back then, because my features looked completely different from my wealthy adoptive parents, I was treated like a freak at school. The kids mocked me, calling me a feral child picked out of a dumpster. Nolan, on the other hand, was a boy raised in a loving middle-class family, radiating a naive kind of heroism. He would always show up when I was at my lowest yet stubbornly refusing pity, standing in front of me like a little adult to strike back at the bullies. I actually told him many times that for a kid who grew up in the foster system, those empty insults meant absolutely nothing. But he was paranoid, believing I was just scared and bottling it up. So he volunteered to be my personal guardian angel. He even bugged his parents into transferring him to my class and shamelessly pestered the teacher to seat him next to me. Because our houses weren’t on the same route and he couldn’t walk me home easily, he threw massive tantrums until his parents actually moved to a neighborhood closer to mine. I was completely bewildered by his exaggerated actions. In my mind, kids’ enthusiasms always came and went in a flash. In the foster system, I had seen too many orphans unceremoniously returned because the adoptive family’s biological kids decided they “weren’t fun anymore.” I figured that once he lost interest in a boring playmate like me, he would naturally go find new friends. But I never expected him to stick around like an unshakeable shadow for eleven solid years. From elementary through high school, I went from intensely resenting someone breaking my isolation, to gradually getting used to seeing his bright smile whenever I turned my head. A teenage girl’s secret crush always takes root and sprouts quietly in those fragmented moments. The year we graduated high school, I asked him a question with a probing smile. If the girl being bullied back then had been someone else, would he still have followed her around like a fool every single day? He sharply caught the extreme lack of security hidden behind my smile, and with an almost reverent posture, he firmly supported my vulnerability. “Funny thing is, ever since I started hanging around you, I often felt that blindly protecting people just to play the hero was really stupid,” he said, looking into my eyes. “It’s like it was destined. All my heroism was meant just for waiting for you.” At that time, I carved those words deep into my soul. So much so that later, when he ran off to play hero for another woman, that vow became the most ironic joke. By the first year of my Master’s program, we had been together for five years. Our parents had even started discussing the details of our post-graduation wedding. Everything was running on a perfect trajectory, right up until our engagement dinner. Gemma, a girl who came out of the same foster home as me, tore all that beauty to shreds with her own hands. God knows what methods she used to drag the old director of the foster home out to give false testimony. In front of all the guests, she tearfully claimed that the person my wealthy parents were originally supposed to adopt was her. She claimed the person who was supposed to be cherished by Nolan should have been her too. She accused me, weeping bitterly, of sneaking sleeping pills into her milk on the day my adoptive parents came to choose a child, causing her to miss her chance to change her destiny. Back then, we were the only two girls who fit the criteria. By taking her out of the picture, I became the only choice. She blamed my selfishness and cruelty for the hellish life she had endured when she turned sixteen. I originally thought anyone with a brain would instantly see through such a clumsy lie born of extreme jealousy. After all, in college, she used the banner of being my friend to stab me in the back countless times. When she couldn’t scrape together enough living expenses from her part-time jobs, I stepped up and fought to get her financial aid back from a rich kid pretending to be broke. But she turned around and spread rumors that I hated the rich and was intentionally targeting that student. Right before finals, she had neglected her studies for work. I not only organized all the review materials for her and stayed up until 3 AM helping her study, but during the exam, I even risked passing her notes so she wouldn’t fail. Yet she turned right around and reported me to the professor for attempting to cheat. Countless times when I complained to Nolan about this garbage, he would grind his teeth in anger, telling me to stay away from that ungrateful viper. Yet at the engagement dinner, Nolan actually believed her nonsense, even announcing the cancellation of our engagement on the spot. My adoptive parents stood by my side at first, gently comforting me, telling me to wait for Gemma to calm down and for the truth to come out. But that wait lasted a full year. During that year, terrified of being abandoned again, I walked on eggshells. I followed their arrangements, yielding to Gemma at every turn, only to watch helplessly as they drained the love they had for me drop by drop. Until finally, I read it in their disgust-filled eyes: they had already convicted me in their hearts, deciding I was a scheming bitch who stole someone else’s life. My thoughts were interrupted by a sharp ping from my phone. It was a direct message from Gemma. [I know you saw the post. Stop acting so high and mighty. We’ve been incredibly happy all these years. You better kill any thought of ruining our relationship right now!] Staring at the provocative text on the screen, I let out a cold laugh, losing any desire to even reply. I casually clicked into her profile. It was filled with so-called high-end photography, but her pathetic follower count and the kind of bogus photographer certification you could just buy with cash completely exposed her true colors. I couldn’t hold back and mockingly typed out a line. [Back then, Nolan threw away his basic human decency to pave the way for you. How is it that after all these years, you’re still a useless piece of trash that can’t hold herself together?] Back then, under their cold, indifferent gazes, I relied on my own merit to secure an exchange spot at a top art academy in Paris. I naively thought that as long as I was excellent enough, I could win back their approval. But just a week before my flight to Paris, Nolan secretly took all my raw negatives and reported me to the competition committee under his real name, claiming I plagiarized Gemma’s work. The university and the organizers stripped me of my qualifications without hesitation. Seeing Gemma trailing behind Nolan with that victor’s smile mixed with hypocritical pity, I felt the blood in my veins freeze over. “Why?” I heard my own dry voice ask. The look in his eyes was a hundred times colder than the first time I rejected him when we were eight. “Her talent really isn’t as good as yours, but she works harder. She needs this chance to rise up more than you do. Besides, if you hadn’t played dirty back then, all of this would have been hers today anyway.” “You’re just giving back what you stole.” At that moment, every vow he made to me when we were eighteen crumbled into dust. Overcome with violent rage and grief, I passed out on the spot and was rushed to the ER. When I woke up, the air smelled of antiseptic. Nolan sat by the bed, letting out an incredibly hypocritical sigh. “You didn’t need to make such an ugly scene. She promised me she only wants a career; she won’t take anything else from you. I will still keep my promise to marry you, but on one condition.” “From now on, you absolutely cannot publish any photography under your own name. But in private, whenever she needs it, you must fully cooperate with her.” The implication in his words wrapped around my neck like a venomous snake. Trembling all over, I stared at him dead in the eye. “You’re telling me to be her ghostwriter?” He gave a muffled hum of agreement. “It’s what you owe her. With her own skills, she could never shoot an award-winning piece like that in her lifetime. So as compensation, you’re going to keep shooting for her until she gets bored of this industry.” That day, I acted like an absolute lunatic, smashing everything in sight inside that hospital room. Yet it still couldn’t shake his cold heart. The day before Gemma flew to Paris, holding my trophy, taking my spot, and even clutching the offer from the top magazine meant for me, she came in arm-in-arm with my boyfriend to look down on me and say thank you. Taking advantage of the moment Nolan stepped out to take a call, I secretly turned on my phone’s voice recorder and baited her into talking. She was completely unguarded, even showing a flaunting smile. “Honestly, I just couldn’t stand the sight of you, so I made up a story. Who knew that bunch of idiots would swallow it whole.” I bit my lip so hard I tasted the rusty flavor of blood in my mouth. After she left, I immediately took the recording to appeal to the university and leaked the audio on the campus forum. I thought the truth would finally come to light. But what I got wasn’t my adoptive parents coming to their senses. Instead, Nolan hired someone to produce a technical report accusing my recording of being an AI-generated forgery. He even spread rumors that I suffered from severe paranoia. He thoroughly wiped thousands of gigabytes of precious raw files I had accumulated since I started photography. Included in them were every single moment I had captured of him. He said that as long as those files existed, they were a ticking time bomb threatening Gemma’s future. I became a rat crossing the street, spat on by professors and classmates alike. When the university handed down my expulsion notice, he spoke to me in a tone reeking of charity. “She’s too pitiful, her mental state has always been unstable. I couldn’t just watch her last hope get shattered, so I had to sacrifice you.” My throat was as hoarse as if I had swallowed crushed glass when I desperately asked him: “Did you forget how she bit the hand that fed her? So, you don’t love me anymore, do you?” He reacted like a cat getting its tail stepped on, instantly raising his voice. “Of course I love you! But can you stop dragging up the past? Who hasn’t made mistakes when they were young? It’s not like she’s some unforgivable murderer!” It wasn’t until that moment that I completely woke up. The boy who once kept claiming he would be my personal hero had long since draped his cape over someone else’s shoulders. An hour before Gemma boarded her flight, I was locked inside a psychiatric ward, watching her being interviewed on the TV screen. She smiled so radiantly, without a trace of that gloomy girl from the orphanage. And the man standing next to her, looking at her with eyes full of deep affection, was Nolan. The picture-perfect couple they made slashed me into a thousand pieces like sharp blades. Even my adoptive parents came to the hospital, earnestly pleading with me to let go, telling me to stop being evil and just consider it building up some good karma for myself. I lay despairingly on the cold hospital bed, staring blankly at the ceiling. In my mind appeared the seven-year-old girl who had nothing but could run wildly under the sun. Using every ounce of strength I had left, I smashed the window and jumped from the fourth floor. Maybe I just wasn’t meant to die. As I fell, I snapped several thick branches, which cushioned the fatal impact. I didn’t die. But the severe abdominal trauma led the doctors to conclude that it would be incredibly difficult for me to ever have children of my own. During the days I spent drifting in and out of consciousness, I groggily heard my adoptive parents in the hallway urging Nolan to stop tying himself to a lunatic like me and just get together with Gemma. He rejected the idea extremely harshly. “Absolutely not. The only way I can completely control her is by marrying her and tying her to my side, forcing her to be Gemma’s stepping stone for the rest of her life.” The moment I heard those words, I didn’t shed a single tear. The very first thing I did when I was fully awake was find an opening, grab a sharp shard of glass, and without hesitation, slash the tendons in my right hand. That was the hand I used to press the shutter. Since they wanted to squeeze out every last drop of my value, I would rather destroy it with my own hands than let them get what they wanted. After realizing I had become completely useless, they avoided me like the plague, never appearing in my hospital room again. And after I recovered, I unilaterally severed all ties with my past and bought a one-way ticket to the East Coast alone. The second year after I left, I heard they finally got together without any reservations. And it was there that I met Justin. Sunlight finally pierced back into my life. As for the so-called “stalking” Nolan accused me of online, I had just randomly seen a post on my feed, thought the back profile looked familiar, and clicked in for a glance. Who would have thought these people were like unshakeable parasites? No matter how many times you block them, they still crawl through the internet to make you sick. I gripped my phone tightly, my brows locked in a dead knot. Suddenly, a tiny hand carrying the scent of baby lotion gently smoothed out my frown. “Mommy! What are you thinking about?” Before I could answer, another warm, broad palm covered my forehead. “What are you zoning out for? Finn’s been calling you forever and you didn’t even blink.” I looked up, meeting the man’s deep, gentle eyes, and handed him the chat logs on my phone directly. He scanned it rapidly, letting out a cold, oppressive laugh. “The world really has changed. Any random piece of trash dares to label themselves a ‘devoted ex’ now. Wait for it, baby. Tomorrow night, your husband is personally going to get your payback.” Justin directly contacted my old class president under my name, had his assistant book out a top-tier restaurant, and set up a so-called “class reunion.” He even specifically instructed the class president to ensure that Nolan and Gemma would definitely attend. In the private dining room the next evening, I sat in the seat of honor, casually making small talk with my old classmates. Suddenly, suppressed sounds of arguing drifted in from outside the door. I stood up and pulled the door open. Gemma, who had a face full of hostility a second ago, instantly switched to a fragile expression the moment the door opened. She was clinging tightly to Nolan, whose face looked stiff. “Long time no see, Sierra. Where’s this legendary husband of yours? Weren’t you supposed to bring him out to meet us today?” I opened the door fully and made a “please” gesture. “He had a last-minute overseas conference call. He’ll be here shortly.” The words had barely left my mouth when Gemma let out an ear-piercing sneer. “Sierra, you really don’t have to invent a fake husband just to save face in front of us. Even if you never get married in your life, for old times’ sake, we wouldn’t laugh at you.” She paused, her eyes turning venomous. “But you better pack up those dirty, shady thoughts. My fiancé already made it perfectly clear to you online yesterday, you two are over. The only reason we took pity on you and showed up tonight was to crush your hopes for good!” The air in the room instantly froze. A few classmates awkwardly exchanged glances. Nolan’s face looked absolutely terrible. He looked at me with a condescending mix of charity and guilt. “She just speaks her mind. Don’t take it to heart.” “She’s just worried that you’re still living in the shadows of the past and ruining yourself just to prove a point. She’s kindly reminding you, there’s no malice.” “Marriage isn’t a game, and it’s certainly not a tool for you to act out of spite. You don’t have to settle for just anyone just to act tough in front of us. If you haven’t met the right one, take your time.” “Please don’t make a joke out of the rest of your life.” His earnest, patronizing tone was truly nauseating. I curled my lips into a faint smile. “Haven’t seen you in years, and your habit of lecturing people has only gotten worse. But thanks for your ‘good intentions’ anyway. My head is perfectly clear. I know exactly what I’m doing.” I picked up the wine glass in front of me and toasted him from across the massive dining table. Nolan’s Adam’s apple bobbed violently. He picked up his glass and downed the red wine in one gulp. When he looked at me again, his reddened eyes surged with some incredibly complex, even slightly fanatic emotion. I was just about to say something to end this disgusting segment. BANG! Gemma suddenly grabbed the heavy glass water pitcher from the table and hurled it violently at me. “You shameless bitch! I’m standing right here, and you dare make eyes at my fiancé right in front of me!” “And you dare say you don’t have feelings for him? This hard-to-get act of yours is sickening! You just want to ruin us and steal him away from me!” “Keep dreaming! He’s mine!” The shattered glass shards ruthlessly slashed across my forehead. A warm liquid with a strong metallic scent instantly flowed down my brow bone and into my eye. I winced in pain, Nolan’s near-hysterical roar ringing in my ears. “Sierra! Are you okay?!” He tried to rush over like a madman to check my injuries. But before he could even touch me, a tall, commanding figure brought a blast of cold air, stepping ahead of him and pulling me tightly into a protective embrace. “Baby, what happened? Let me see!” Justin’s voice suppressed a terrifying fury as he wiped the blood from my face with gentle but trembling hands. Leaning against his solid chest, I shook my head slightly to show I was holding up. But when I raised my head, I caught sight of Nolan’s face, drained of all color, veins popping. He stared dead at us holding each other so tightly, his voice trembling beyond recognition. “You… you really got married?”

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1 The system chime echoed for the third time in my mind as I stood in the center of the Prescott family’s luxurious living room. They were going to brainwash me again. This would be the ninth time. My three brothers brought out a glass jar filled with wooden lots, forcing me to draw a new identity. I had three choices: the fake heiress, the maid’s daughter, or the charity case. My oldest brother, Liam, let his face darken first. He warned me to stop having delusional dreams of taking Vivian’s place. My second brother, Silas, furrowed his brows and coldly reminded me that Vivian had a severe heart condition and needed the family’s undivided attention. Then there was Asher. He wore a face identical to mine, yet it was twisted in pure disgust. He sneered and declared that he only recognized Vivian as his sister. I stood frozen in place. My heart had gone completely numb a long time ago. Suddenly, the System broke its silence. It told me the capture mission was officially canceled. It advised me to just pick a way to die and leave this wretched world. A genuine smile crept onto my lips. I could finally go home. But what I didn’t expect was that after my death, those three heartless brothers would actually shed tears. … My original mission was painfully simple: win the affection of my brothers and be acknowledged as the true biological heiress of the Prescott family. Yet in the five years since I returned to this house, I had been subjected to memory altering hypnosis eight times. I had been a maid, a nanny, a poor relative begging for scraps, and an orphan taken in by the butler. The only thing I was never allowed to be was the actual daughter of the Prescott family. Every single time Vivian squeezed out a few pathetic tears, my three brothers would choose her without a second thought. They were absolutely certain that as long as they erased my memory of being the true heiress, I would never dare to compete with Vivian for their love. With every hypnosis session, the System had to burn massive amounts of energy to forcibly awaken my true consciousness. But the dosage of the mind altering drugs increased every time, and the duration of my memory loss grew longer and longer. It wasn’t until the eighth time, after I had worked as a lowly servant in my own home for three entire years, that the System finally managed to drag me back to reality. I had had enough. The System was at its breaking point too. It canceled the mission and offered me a ticket home. Wild joy erupted in my chest. My eyes frantically darted around the room, searching for any sharp object that could grant me sweet release. Seeing my shifting gaze, my twin brother Asher instantly pulled a long face. “Don’t even think about trying any of your dirty tricks. We will strap you to that chair today even if we have to tie you down!” As he spoke, he casually pulled a wooden slip from the jar. The words “Fake Heiress” were glaringly etched into the wood. Asher let out a cruel scoff and threw the wooden slip right at my face. The sharp edge sliced across my cheek, leaving a stinging trail of blood. “Well, look at that. You got lucky.” “We are actually letting you play the role of the Prescott heiress this time.” He turned his head to look at Liam, Silas, and Vivian, carelessly proposing a sick wager. “Care to make a bet? The dosage is ten times stronger this round. How long do you think it will take for her to remember?” “I’ll go first. The last round lasted three years. I bet she stays under for five years this time.” Silas leaned back against the leather sofa and spoke in a chillingly flat tone. “Eight years.” Liam tapped his fingers rhythmically against the mahogany table, his eyes devoid of any warmth. “Ten years.” Vivian walked over and affectionately clung to Asher’s arm. She shot me a smug, triumphant look before pouting her lips in a sickeningly sweet manner. “Asher, I think it will take her twenty years.” Asher affectionately ruffled her hair and smiled. “Alright, my little princess. I will have the doctor increase the dose by another ten times. I definitely won’t let you lose your bet.” These scenes used to pierce right through my soul, but looking at them now, I felt nothing but absolute tranquility. I calmly bent down and picked up the bloodstained wooden slip from the floor, my voice coming out in a soft whisper. “No. This time, it will last a lifetime.” After all, dead people never remember anything, do they? The next second, under their shocked and horrified gazes. I gripped the wooden slip tightly and plunged it brutally into the carotid artery of my own neck! 2 Blood sprayed out in a violent arc, splashing directly onto Vivian’s face. A piercing scream tore from her throat. Right before I lost consciousness. I saw Vivian shrieking in terror, Silas bolting up from the sofa, and Liam’s face draining of all color. And Asher was just standing there completely paralyzed, clutching his own neck in horror as he stared at me. I forgot. We were twins. We shared a telepathic pain connection. When I woke up again, I was lying in a hospital bed with thick layers of bandages wrapped tightly around my neck. I actually didn’t die? The slightest movement sent a dull, tearing agony radiating from my throat. [Host, detecting extreme pain levels. Would you like me to activate the pain blocker?] [Yes, please!] The pain vanished instantly. My entire body relaxed into comfort. It was only then that I noticed a vicious glare pinning me down, looking as if it wanted to flay me alive and rip my bones apart. I turned my head and met Asher’s face, which was black with rage. “You did that on purpose, didn’t you?” He violently grabbed the collar of my hospital gown and dragged me straight into the adjacent room. He pointed at Vivian, who was lying pale and fragile on the bed, and fiercely demanded answers. “You know her heart is weak! You deliberately triggered an episode! Did you think that if she died, you could just waltz in and become the true heiress?” “Keep dreaming! Let me make this crystal clear. We will never acknowledge a venomous snake like you as our sister!” I tried pulling my collar out of his grip but failed. I had no choice but to maintain the awkward posture and speak to him with absolute sincerity. “I didn’t try to harm her. I genuinely just want to die.” Asher acted like he had just heard the funniest joke in the world. He leaned in close, his eyes brimming with mockery. “Want to die? Sienna, cut the pathetic act!” “Did you think faking a suicide attempt would get you out of the hypnosis? You are going to be the fake heiress, and that is final! I will never let you threaten Vivian’s place in our family!” He then glanced at the bandages wrapped around my neck and spoke in a deeply sarcastic tone. “If you really wanted to die, you wouldn’t have used a flimsy piece of wood to put on a show!” Silas, who was sitting by the bed using a surgical scalpel to peel an apple for Vivian, paused his movements. A cold glint flashed across the silver blade. The apple peel snapped. “Sienna, if you pull another cheap stunt like this, don’t blame me for disregarding our blood ties.” My eyes immediately lit up. That was a truly excellent blade! Staring intently at the scalpel in Silas’s hand, I looked at him with eager, starry eyes and made a polite request. “Um, could I borrow that knife you have there?” “Asher is totally right. A wooden stick can’t kill a person. If I want to commit suicide, I really need to use a blade.” The air in the room froze solid. Asher let out a furious laugh, pointing his finger right at my nose and cursing. “Playing this game again? Sienna, how long are you going to keep up this act?!” “Here! Take the knife! Let’s see if you actually have the guts to die!” Before Silas could even react, Asher snatched the scalpel from his brother’s hand and threw it right at my feet. I picked it up frantically, like I had just found a priceless treasure. Without a single ounce of hesitation, I raised the blade and slashed it ruthlessly across my own throat. Asher’s eyes blew wide open in sheer terror. Remembering the phantom agony he had experienced just hours ago, his body moved on instinct, and he reached out to grab the descending blade barehanded. Drops of crimson blood slowly trickled down the silver handle and splattered onto the white tiles. My hand gripped the handle tightly, pausing mid air. I looked up and met Asher’s eyes, which were blazing with a monstrous, apocalyptic fury. He stared at me, his lips trembling violently, his voice completely cracking. “Sienna! Have you lost your goddamn mind?!” 3 The sharp edge of the blade had sliced deep into Asher’s palm. The flesh was torn open, exposing a gruesome, bloody mess that made my scalp tingle just looking at it. Yet he kept his fingers clamped around the metal, refusing to let go. Silas’s expression changed drastically when he saw the blood. He lunged forward and brutally twisted my wrist. The force was so immense I felt like my bones were going to shatter into pieces, forcing me to release my grip. The scalpel clattered onto the floor. He kicked the knife far away before turning his darkened face to me with a low, menacing growl. “Are you done throwing your tantrum?” I just felt an overwhelming wave of exhaustion. It was so hard to simply die these days. Seeing Asher bleeding because of me, Vivian’s face turned ghastly white. She bit her lower lip so hard it almost bled, and tears began falling without any warning. She struggled to sit up from her hospital bed, clutching her chest, crying out to me. “Sister, if you want to hurt someone, just hurt me! Don’t hurt Asher!” “It’s all my fault. I never should have been swapped at birth and stolen your life. Take all your anger out on me!” “If my death is the only thing that will satisfy you, then I’ll go die!” Vivian threw off the blankets, stumbled out of bed, and ran toward the stairwell outside the ward like a madwoman. “Vivi!” Silas’s face contorted in panic, and he immediately chased after her. Asher didn’t even care about his profusely bleeding right hand. Ignoring the pain, he sprinted right behind them. A dramatic Titanic style scene quickly unfolded at the top of the stairs. Silas wrapped his arms tightly around Vivian from behind, while Vivian spread her arms wide, crying and shivering uncontrollably. “Silas, let me go. Only if I die will my sister stop torturing you all!” The more she struggled, the tighter Silas held her. Asher stood closely by, nervously shielding both of them. The three of them pulled and pushed in a chaotic, tangled mess. I slowly walked over to the edge of the railing and glanced down. We were over a dozen floors up. The height was definitely sufficient. “Alright, you won’t actually jump even if we wait twenty years. I’ll just do it myself.” With those clean and decisive words, I vaulted over the metal railing and threw myself headfirst into the abyss. In that split second, it was as if Asher sensed something through our twin connection. He looked toward where I was falling and charged over like a lunatic. “Sienna!” He threw himself onto the floor, the veins popping on his right arm as he desperately clamped his bleeding hand onto the hem of my hospital gown. My entire body was suspended in mid air. Drops of his blood fell directly onto my face. Hearing the commotion, Silas whipped his head around, staring at the scene in absolute disbelief. It was as if he had just been jolted awake from a nightmare. He shoved Vivian aside, strode over, and dropped to his knees to help Asher pull me back up. Realizing I was about to be dragged back to safety, I panicked. I thrashed my body wildly, trying to slip out of my outer gown. But I was no match for the combined strength of two grown men, and I was forcefully hauled back onto the landing. Asher was panting heavily. He stared at me, his eyes hiding a lingering terror he hadn’t even realized himself. “Do you not care about your own life?!” “If you want something, just ask! But can you please stop trying to kill yourself every five minutes?!” Silas wiped the cold sweat from his forehead, his voice still shaking noticeably. “Don’t you just want to come back to the family? Don’t you just want to be the true heiress? We will go talk to Liam right now!” “Just please stop putting us through this!” I froze for a moment. If I had heard those words just a few days ago, I probably would have been ecstatic. But right now, my only desire was to die quickly so I could go home. Hearing their desperate promises, Vivian’s face turned as pale as a sheet of paper. Her already red eyes filled with fresh tears. A barely detectable glint of jealousy and pure malice flashed through her eyes, vanishing in an instant. “Sister, I don’t know how much longer my broken body can hold on. Please, just wait a little longer. Once I’m dead, you can…” Before she could finish her sentence, she violently clutched her chest, her eyes rolled back, and she collapsed stiffly onto the floor. “Vivi!” 4 Asher instantly let go of me and rushed forward like a madman to catch her. His face was covered in undisguised heartache and intense frustration. Silas also hurried over. After doing a quick preliminary check on Vivian’s vitals, his expression turned gravely serious. “Get her to the resuscitation room, now!” The two men carried Vivian and rushed away in a panic. Neither of them even spared a single backward glance at me. I silently walked back to my room and found the sharp, cold scalpel lying in the corner. Asher’s blood was still smeared across the metal. The System suddenly chimed in my mind. [Host, detecting that the capture mission progress has reached 60%!] [Would you like to continue the strategy?] [I quit.] I shook my head, grabbed a tissue to carefully wipe the scalpel clean, and then hid it securely in my pocket. I just wanted to find a quiet place where no one would bother me so I could leave in peace. Just as I stepped out of the ward, I ran right into my three brothers, who were rushing over. Liam’s gaze fell on the blood seeping bandages around my neck. A complex emotion flickered in his eyes. “They told me what you did.” “I can let you return to the family and restore your identity as the true biological daughter.” I said nothing, waiting for him to finish his sentence. “But,” Liam paused, his voice turning heavy. “To the outside world, Vivian and Asher will remain twins. Her identity cannot be changed.” “And you… you will be the newly found, adopted child of the Prescott family.” I let out a cynical scoff in my heart. To put it bluntly, they wanted me to hold the title of the true daughter internally, but live publicly as an illegitimate, unacknowledged child. That was a hundred times more nauseating than just being the fake heiress. Before I could even open my mouth to refuse, he sharply changed the subject. “There is one condition.” I looked up at him and spoke flatly. “What condition?” “Vivian suffered a severe shock today. She is in heart failure and urgently needs a transplant.” Silas, standing behind him in his white doctor’s coat, suddenly spoke up. “Your tissue matching is a perfect, flawless fit.” I was genuinely stunned. “And so?” “You don’t need to be afraid. Medical technology is highly advanced now. We will install an artificial heart to keep you alive. Your life won’t be in danger. Afterward, the family will use every single resource at our disposal to find a suitable donor heart for you.” I laughed out of pure, unadulterated anger. “If artificial hearts are so great, why don’t you just give one to her?!” Asher immediately lost his temper. His tone was laced with intense anxiety and harsh accusation. “Vivian has a special constitution! Her body rejects metal implants! She can’t use an artificial heart!” “You are the one who caused her to end up like this! Her life is hanging by a thread right now. If you refuse to save her, you are forcing her to die!” I pressed my fingers against my throbbing temples, taking a deep breath. I had finally reached the absolute limit of my tolerance. “Fine! Great! You just want a heart, right?” “I will donate it. Happy now?” Hearing my words, relieved and gratified smiles appeared on all three of my brothers’ faces. “Once you finish the surgery, we will publicly announce…” But in the very next second, without the slightest hesitation, I pulled the scalpel from my pocket, aimed the blade ruthlessly at my own chest, and plunged it directly into my heart. Then, with brutal force, I sliced downward! Hot blood splattered across their utterly terrified faces, and I let out a soft, airy laugh. “Here is the heart you wanted.” “Come and get it!” The moment my body began to fall, three figures stumbled wildly toward me.

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