Author: Momo Chan

To please his new boss, my dad forced me to go bungee jumping during our mandatory corporate retreat. I have a congenital heart defect. Standing on the platform, a hundred and fifty feet in the air, my heart felt like it was being squeezed by an iron fist. My legs shook. I tried to back away, but the instructor grabbed my harness and shoved me right to the edge. “A grown man, scared of this? The female intern just jumped without even blinking.” He looked at my trembling body, his mouth curling into a sneer of pure disgust. “Bungee jumping is the best way to conquer fear. Cowards like you live their whole lives without actually living!” Down below, my dad looked up and yelled, his voice dripping with impatience. “Ethan Miller! What are you waiting for? The CEO already jumped. Don’t embarrass me!” “Even if you die of fright today, you’re going down that platform!” My heart was beating so fast I couldn’t count the rhythms. My chest felt like an anvil was resting on it. Before I could speak, the instructor gave me a rough shove from behind. My body plummeted into the open air. The moment I hit the lowest point of the fall, my heart gave one violent spasm, and then—it stopped. I hung there in mid-air, dangling like a broken puppet with its strings cut. Slowly, my soul drifted upward. I looked down at my tear-streaked face. “I’m sorry, Dad. I didn’t mean to ruin your day.” “But this time, my heart really couldn’t take it.”

“Why isn’t he bouncing? Did the cord get stuck?” Caleb Davis chewed on his toothpick, leaning over the railing of the platform. He frowned, shouting down to the staff at the bottom. My body hung in mid-air, limbs dangling limply, like an old shirt tossed over a clothesline. The elasticity of the bungee cord had completely vanished. All that was left was the slow, residual sway of inertia—left, then right, slow as a pendulum. Then, it came to a complete stop. About thirty people were gathered below, most of them squinting up at the sky. Some leaned against the wooden pillars of the pavilion, while others pulled out their phones to film. A few coworkers whispered among themselves, their faces relaxed, enjoying the free drama. My dad stood at the very front of the crowd. He cupped his hands around his mouth, his voice slicing through the open valley. “Ethan! Wave your hand so we know you’re fine!” No one answered. “Did you hear me? Stop faking it up there!” His face flushed red, the veins on his neck bulging. A coworker next to him gently nudged his arm. “Hey, Richard, is he really unconscious? Maybe we should have the crew pull him down to check?” My dad slapped the man’s hand away, his voice sharp with the humiliation of being publicly embarrassed. “He’s faking. He’s been doing this since he was a kid. Whenever things don’t go his way, he plays sick. Ignore him. The more attention you give him, the worse he gets.” I floated above the high platform, staring down at him. Mr. Vance, the CEO, stood under the shade of the pavilion. He sipped his iced Americano and checked his Rolex with a slight frown. Next to him was a girl in a white sundress. She held her phone high, her camera pointed directly at where I hung. Chloe Vance. The CEO’s daughter. She had been brought in as an intern last month, and her desk was right next to my dad’s. “Look, guys. This guy jumped and now he’s just hanging there, totally frozen. This is literally so embarrassing.” She whispered into her phone screen, laughing as her thumb scrolled through the TikTok Live comments. “Don’t worry, he’s totally fine. He’s probably just a coward who passed out from crying.” Caleb signaled his assistant to crank the winch. “Creak. Creak.” The metal groaned as my body was dragged up, inch by inch. He crouched by the edge of the platform. The moment my shoulders cleared the railing, he grabbed my collar and hauled me onto the deck. My head rolled back, my chin resting limply against my collarbone. Caleb slapped my cheek. Once, twice, three times. He wasn’t gentle. “Hey, buddy? Wake up.” No response. He slapped me twice more, then placed two fingers right under my nose. One second. Two seconds. Three seconds. The toothpick dropped from his mouth. His face paled, but only for a fraction of a second. He quickly scanned the crowd below, then glanced at the safety liability sign bolted to the wooden wall. Then, he crouched back down, slapping my shoulder casually. “Will, go grab a bottle of water and the first-aid kit,” he muttered to his assistant, his voice barely a whisper. The assistant blinked, confused. “Caleb, he looks… really bad.” “Just get the water,” Caleb cut him off, his voice turning to steel. The assistant turned and ran. Caleb looked down at me, yanked my collar loose to make it look like he was helping me breathe, and yelled down to the crowd. “He’s fine! Just fainted from the shock! He’ll be up in a minute!” An immediate wave of laughter erupted from the crowd below. My dad let out a long, heavy sigh of relief, patting his chest before walking over to Mr. Vance. “See, Mr. Vance? I told you he’s a coward. Fainted right on cue.” His voice carried a flattering, apologetic chuckle, as if he were apologizing for my lack of manners. Mr. Vance took another sip of his coffee. “Young people these days. They just need to be toughened up.” Chloe chimed in from the side. “Mr. Miller, Ethan will be fine. I was scared when I jumped too, but the moment you drop, it’s like, totally worth it.” She smiled, her camera still aimed at the platform. My dad smiled back at her, then glanced up at the tower. Caleb was currently splashing bottled water onto my face and rubbing my temples. Everything looked normal. Everything fit perfectly into the box of “he’s fine.” I floated in the air, watching a stranger splash water onto my cold, lifeless face. I was treated like a piece of meat that had lost all sensation. Meanwhile, my dad stood below, eagerly chatting up his boss. “Mr. Vance, the catered BBQ buffet should be ready by now. Why don’t we try the local ribs?”

“He’s still not waking up? What do we do?” Caleb’s assistant ran back up with the first-aid kit, crouching beside me to start CPR. Caleb grabbed his arm, stopping him. “Don’t touch him.” The assistant looked up, eyes wide with confusion. Caleb didn’t explain. He leaned down and put his fingers back under my nose. One. Two. Three. His face remained a mask, but his Adam’s apple bobbed heavily. He stood up, pulling the assistant to the far side of the platform, turning their backs to the crowd below. “Call 911.” “What? I thought you said he just fainted—” “I said call 911. Stop arguing.” Terrified by Caleb’s tone, the assistant pulled out his phone and opened the keypad. Caleb’s hand slapped down over the screen. “Call them, but don’t do it here. Go down the stairs and find somewhere quiet.” The assistant nodded quickly, ducking down the wooden stairs of the tower. Caleb crouched back beside my body. He splashed more water on my face, yelling, “Wake up, buddy!” making sure his voice carried. But his other hand was wrapped around my wrist, three fingers pressed hard against my pulse point. He held it there for a long time. He felt nothing. Down below, my dad and Mr. Vance had already walked over to the BBQ area. Chloe skipped ahead of them, still broadcasting live, her camera finally drifting away from the tower. Most of the crowd had dispersed, but a few coworkers were still looking up. One of them whispered to another. “Is he really okay? He hasn’t moved in like fifteen minutes.” “The instructor said he just fainted. Caleb’s been running this jump for eight years. He knows what he’s doing.” “True.” The two of them turned toward the buffet. Caleb heard every word from the platform. He looked down at my face. My lips had turned from a dull blue to a deep, bruised purple. He stood up, pulled a folded piece of paper from his pocket, and smoothed it out. It was the liability waiver. At the very bottom, in the signature line, the name “Ethan Miller” was written in clean, heavy strokes. The handwriting carried the distinct, pressurized style of an older man. He refolded the paper and slid it deep into his pocket. The motion was swift, practiced. I floated above him, watching him hide the evidence. That wasn’t my signature. This morning, in the parking lot, my dad had slammed the tablet in front of me. “Sign it.” I had read the terms. The third line read in bold, black letters: “Participants must certify they do not suffer from any pre-existing heart conditions, high blood pressure, or other medical issues.” “Dad, it says right here. No heart conditions.” He snatched the stylus out of my hand and scribbled my name across the screen. “Drop the excuses. We’re going to be late.” After signing, he handed the tablet to Caleb, slipping two hundred-dollar bills under the counter. “Hey, instructor. My son is a bit of a coward. When he gets up there, give him a little push if you have to.” Caleb took the cash, feeling its thickness, and grinned. “Consider it done. No problem at all.” Now, those two hundred-dollar bills and that digital waiver record were locked in Caleb’s possession. Hidden away. Half an hour passed. The ambulance still hadn’t arrived. The retreat was in a state park, nearly fifteen miles from the nearest hospital. Caleb sat in the corner of the platform, his arms wrapped around his knees, chewing through toothpick after toothpick. When one splintered, he spat it out and reached for another. My body lay on the deck. My head was tilted to the side, my mouth slightly agape, like a sentence cut short. The water on my face had dried, leaving salt-stained streaks across my skin. The smell of grilled meat and laughter drifted up from below. Someone had hooked up a Bluetooth speaker, playing upbeat pop music. In the distance, I could see my dad standing beside Mr. Vance, holding a paper plate in one hand and serving him a skewer of ribs with the other. He was smiling. He was smiling so hard his face looked strained, sweat glistening on his forehead. Mr. Vance took a bite and muttered something approvingly. My dad immediately bowed his head lower, nodding like a bobblehead. Chloe sat on a folding chair with her legs crossed, three different cans of soda lined up in front of her. She blew a kiss to her phone camera. “Thanks for the concern, guys! The guy is totally fine. He’s just super dramatic and fainted because he’s a scaredy-cat.” The comments flooded the chat. Some asked, “Is he awake yet?” while others posted laughing emojis. She glanced at the screen and giggled. “Seriously, don’t worry. His dad literally said he’s been doing this since he was a kid. He just plays sick when he wants attention.” I watched it all from the sky—on one side, the smell of sizzling meat; on the other, a corpse slowly growing cold on a hundred-and-fifty-foot platform. Two different worlds, separated by thirty yards, a plume of grill smoke, and a collective, unspoken agreement to look the other way. No one looked up at me anymore. Even Caleb had stopped looking. He stared at his sneakers, lost in his own head. Finally, the wail of a siren pierced the heavy afternoon air. The siren grew louder, shattering the lazy atmosphere of the park. Several coworkers paused, forks suspended in mid-air. Caleb bolted upright, looking down at the parking lot. “Shit,” he muttered. He ran to the railing and yelled down to the crowd. “Hey, don’t worry, everyone! That’s just the private medical van I booked for us! Standard health check for the retreat package!” A few coworkers looked up, nodded, and went back to their food. But my dad’s fork stopped. He stared at the white ambulance pulling into the gravel parking lot, the smile on his face slowly freezing. That wasn’t a corporate wellness van. The red and blue lights on the roof were flashing.

“Who called an ambulance?” My dad set his paper plate down and hurried toward the parking lot, intercepting the paramedics as they stepped out of the vehicle. Two paramedics in neon yellow vests, carrying a trauma kit and a gurney, were preparing to head toward the tower. My dad stepped directly in front of them, arms outstretched. “Excuse me, there’s been a mistake. No one is hurt here.” The lead paramedic looked at him. “We received a 911 dispatch for an unresponsive male at the bungee tower. Unconscious for over twenty minutes.” “No, no, it’s just a young man who got scared and fainted. The instructor is up there taking care of him,” my dad said, lowering his voice as he cast a nervous glance back at Mr. Vance. “Please, you can leave. It’s better if we don’t cause a scene.” When he said “scene,” his eyes locked onto Mr. Vance. Mr. Vance had stood up. Holding his iced coffee, he walked over, his brow furrowed. The paramedics didn’t budge. “Sir, since we’ve been dispatched, we are legally required to evaluate the patient. It’s protocol.” “There’s no need for protocol—” “Let them go up and check,” Mr. Vance’s voice cut in from behind. He walked up next to my dad and patted his shoulder. “Richard, just in case. Let them take a look so we can all relax.” My dad’s jaw twitched. He wanted to argue, but meeting Mr. Vance’s eyes, the words died in his throat. “…Alright. Thank you for your time, officers.” The paramedics grabbed their gear and rushed up the wooden stairs of the tower. Caleb was leaning against the railing, still chewing on a toothpick. When he saw the neon vests emerge from the stairwell, his face went completely white. “Hey, guys. Who called? The kid just fainted. He just needs a few minutes.” They ignored him. The lead paramedic knelt beside me, lifting my eyelid to shine a penlight. The pupil was dilated and fixed. He switched to the other eye. The same. He pressed his stethoscope against my chest. He tilted his head, listening for five agonizing seconds. Then, he removed it. He placed two fingers on my carotid artery, pressing down for three seconds. Then, he let go. He looked up at Caleb. “How long has he been unresponsive?” “About… thirty, forty minutes?” Caleb’s voice was barely a squeak, his eyes darting around. “And you told people he just fainted?” “Yeah, he just got sca—” “His pupils are dilated, there’s no respiration, no pulse, and his core temperature is already dropping. This isn’t a faint.” The paramedic stood up, his voice cold as ice. “He’s dead.” The toothpick fell from Caleb’s mouth. “No… that’s impossible. I was just splashing water on him. He’s just out.” “He’s been dead for at least thirty minutes. Cardiac arrest. He is way past the resuscitation window.” The paramedic keyed his radio. “Dispatch, this is Medic 4 at the state park bungee tower. We have a male patient, approximately twenty-two years old, cold and unresponsive. Dilated pupils, flatlined, no respiration. Pronounced dead at the scene. Apparent sudden cardiac arrest. Requesting local PD and the coroner.” The radio crackled twice. “Copy that, Medic 4. Police dispatching.” Caleb slid down the wooden railing, his legs giving out entirely as he slumped onto the deck. Below, my dad was still chatting with Mr. Vance by the parking lot. He hadn’t gone up the tower. He hadn’t looked up once. He didn’t know. He had no idea. The paramedic walked to the edge of the platform and looked down. “Is the family of the deceased down there?” His voice wasn’t loud, but in the sudden quiet of the clearing, it carried perfectly. Several coworkers froze, their hands hovering over their plates. The word “deceased” hit the group like a stone dropped into a still pond. A few turned their heads slowly toward my dad. My dad was busy refilling Mr. Vance’s water cup. He didn’t hear. Or maybe he did, but his brain refused to connect the word to himself. Chloe was the quickest to react. She put her phone away, walked to the base of the tower, and yelled up. “Who are you talking about? Didn’t you guys say he just fainted?” The paramedic didn’t answer her. He spoke into his radio again. “Requesting immediate family to the tower for identification.” Chloe’s expression shifted. She bit her lip, jogged over to my dad, and tugged on his sleeve. “Mr. Miller… the medics want you to go up.” My dad set the pitcher down, his brow furrowing. “Go up? For what? They said he was fine.” “They said…” Chloe hesitated. She glanced at her father, then swallowed her words, changing her tone. “Maybe they just need you to sign some paperwork. You know, for protocol.” My dad sighed, looking back at Mr. Vance. “Mr. Vance, I’ll be right back.” Mr. Vance nodded silently. As my dad walked toward the wooden stairs, his pace was slow. Step by step, his leather dress shoes clacked against the wood. He still thought it was just paperwork. He didn’t know that what was waiting for him at the top of that tower wasn’t a form to sign. It was his son’s corpse. I floated above him, watching him climb. The wind swept up from the canyon, rustling the hem of his blazer. He had bought that blazer specifically for this retreat. Mr. Vance’s secretary had leaked that the CEO preferred “smart casual” attire. He reached the top deck. He saw Caleb shivering in the corner, the two paramedics standing solemn, and me. I was lying flat on the wooden deck. My face was pointed toward the sky, my lips a deep purple, dry tear stains marking my cheeks. My eyes were half-open, showing only the whites. He stopped. “Ethan?” His voice was soft, carrying a desperate, fragile hope he didn’t even realize he had. No one answered. He threw himself down, kneeling beside me, reaching out to touch my face. It was freezing. “Ethan, what’s wrong? Talk to me!” He cradled my head, trying to make me look at him. My neck rolled limply to the side, my head heavy against his arm. Like a doll with its stuffing ripped out. My dad gripped my shoulders, his fingers digging into my shirt. He spun around to face the paramedics, his eyes wild with confusion. “What is this? He just fainted! Why aren’t you giving him CPR? Do something!” The paramedic looked at him, waiting a beat before speaking. “Sir, are you his father?” “Yes! I am! Save him! Please!” “I’m sorry.” The paramedic’s voice was slow and deliberate, as if trying to cushion the blow of a sledgehammer. “He had no vital signs when we arrived. No pulse, no respiration, pupils dilated. It appears to be sudden cardiac arrest.” “He has been gone for over thirty minutes. There is nothing we can do.” My dad stared at him, his mouth open, waiting for the “but.” Waiting for the turn. Waiting for them to say, “But if we get him to the hospital, there’s still a chance.” Nothing came. “Sir, I am so sorry for your loss.” My dad’s face drained of color, turning a sickly, papery white.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “464900”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster

I once thought I had the best partner in the world. But the truth revealed: He’d had my womb surgically removed, and I’d spent three years as his stand-in. So, I disappeared. From Los Angeles to Paris, from a trampled substitute to being cherished in the palm of my new family’s hands. But following my disappearance came his tears of regret. He tried to transfer his entire fortune to me, but I sent it right back without a second glance. He said he could never repay what he owed me. I told him our accounts were settled. Pain will always be pain, but enough good things happened afterward to overshadow the bad. Yvonne’s POV “Ms. Vance, you don’t even have a uterus. How could you have period cramps?” The doctor studied the ultrasound scan with a somber look on his face. I thought I had misheard. “What did you say? I just had a physical last month, and I’m currently trying to conceive. How could I not have a uterus?” The doctor pushed the ultrasound image toward me. “The imaging is very clear. Your uterus is missing.” “The old surgical scar on your lower abdomen—its position and length are completely consistent with a hysterectomy incision. It must have been left behind by the removal of your uterus.” The doctor’s words hit me like a sledgehammer, making my head spin and my ears ring. That scar was clearly from a car accident three years ago. How could it have been left by a hysterectomy? The surgeon back then was personally found by my boyfriend, Harrison Foster. There was no way there could have been a mistake. In a daze, I walked out of the hospital and hailed a cab straight to the club Harrison Foster was at. I needed to find him and get answers face-to-face. I was originally an intern at the Foster Group. Not long after starting, I was carrying a stack of documents when I collided with Harrison Foster, the president of Foster Group, right at the corner of a hallway. Papers scattered all over the floor, and I thought I would be fired on the spot that very day. But Harrison Foster knelt down to help me pick them up, and even asked for my name. From then on, he started pursuing me. Whenever I ran into issues at work, he would guide me step-by-step. When my period cramps were so bad I couldn’t get out of bed, he would personally make creamy mushroom soup, bring it to my bedside, and warm his hands to soothe my aching belly. When I had a fever, he would drop everything in the middle of the night to carry me to his car, drive me to the hospital, and watch over my bedside all night. Having lost my parents at a young age, I had almost forgotten what it felt like to be treasured so deeply. So, I quickly fell in love with him. But Harrison’s father, Arthur Foster, and his mother, Sharon Foster, didn’t approve. They looked down on my humble background and orphaned status, believing I was a poor match for the Foster family. I knew myself that I didn’t match Harrison Foster, and I never forced a commitment. Until that car accident three years ago. I was comatose in the ICU for three days, and the first thing I saw when I opened my eyes was Harrison Foster. He was sitting by my bedside, his eyes completely bloodshot, tightly clutching my hand. “Yvonne, I thought I was going to lose you. I don’t know how I would survive without you.” After the surgery, he never left my side, taking care of me day and night without a wink of sleep. Seeing their son refuse to eat, drink, or sleep for my sake, Arthur and Sharon Foster finally relented. As long as I bore him a child, they would agree to our marriage. Seeing how haggard Harrison Foster had become for me, I thought I had finally found true love. I made up my mind to stay with him till the very end, so I agreed to Arthur and Sharon’s conditions. From then on, Harrison Foster and I started actively trying to conceive, sleeping together almost every night. Every month I went for a checkup at the hospital Harrison Foster arranged, and the doctor there always assured me that all my vitals and tests were perfectly normal. But now, a different doctor was telling me that I didn’t even have a uterus. What on earth was happening? When I arrived at the club, the VIP room door wasn’t shut tightly. Laughter and chatter drifted out through the crack. “Scarlett is coming back tonight! Harrison is finally seeing the light at the end of the tunnel. Come on, let’s have a drink!” Harrison’s friend, Charles Ward, laughed and shouted. Scarlett Sterling—I had heard them mention this name before. She was Harrison Foster’s childhood friend who had gone abroad before Harrison and I even started dating. I had never met her in person. Mason Cole chimed in as well. “Yeah, spending three years with Yvonne, that substitute… Harrison really had a tough time. His love for Scarlett is definitely the real deal!” Someone else agreed, “If the Sterling family hadn’t suddenly gone bankrupt, and if Scarlett’s father, George Sterling, and mother, Amanda Sterling, hadn’t jumped to their deaths, sending the family into ruin, Harrison and Scarlett’s kid would probably be in kindergarten by now. Yvonne wouldn’t even have a chance.” Hearing this, my entire body went cold. Harrison Foster loved Scarlett Sterling? He was using me as Scarlett’s substitute? How could that be? He clearly told me he fell in love with me at first sight, that his eyes only saw me, and that no one else could ever compare. He had literally postponed a multi-billion-dollar project just to celebrate my birthday. My eyes instinctively drifted toward the man sitting in the center seat. Harrison Foster didn’t object to a single word. He sat there in a relaxed posture, legs crossed, steadily holding a glass of wine. Only when someone brought up Scarlett Sterling did his cold, sharp features soften slightly. The conversation in the private room continued. Charles Ward sighed. “Well, there was no other choice. Once Scarlett’s family went under, Arthur and Sharon Foster strongly opposed their marriage. They even started targeting Scarlett. Harrison had no choice but to send Scarlett abroad first to get some credentials and lay low.” “Thankfully, he ran into Yvonne, that low-born substitute. Over the last few years, Harrison fought tooth and nail against Arthur and Sharon for Yvonne’s sake. Yvonne took a lot of heat from Sharon because of that.” “If it wasn’t for Yvonne, the one Sharon would have been tormenting would have been Scarlett!” The others nodded, feeling a sense of relief. “Well, things are looking up now. I heard Arthur and Sharon recently relented. They said if they had known Harrison would end up with such a low-class woman, they would have agreed to Scarlett marrying in back then—at least Scarlett was born into a respectable family! Harrison’s patience over the years wasn’t in vain. He’s finally getting what he wanted!” I felt as though my heart had been violently sliced open. So that was the truth. Although the Fosters had softened their stance slightly over the past few years, they had still treated me with utter contempt. Sharon Foster would summon me to the Foster mansion every other day just to berate and humiliate me. She would make me kneel in the freezing basement, hurling the nastiest insults to force me to leave. Every single time, Harrison Foster would tell me to just hang in there a little longer, promising that once we had a child and got married, everything would change. Looking at Harrison’s hopeful gaze, I swallowed my pride and endured it every single time. It turned out I was merely absorbing the torment meant for the woman he actually loved. It was all to pave a smooth path for Scarlett Sterling to marry into the Foster family! The three years he spent with me, in the eyes of his friends, was actually Harrison Foster bravely enduring humiliation. Charles Ward spoke again. “By the way, Harrison, Yvonne still doesn’t know you had her uterus removed, right? Is she still foolishly trying to get pregnant?” Mason Cole let out a cold laugh. “Of course she can’t find out. If Yvonne knew, how would Harrison’s plan work?” Charles Ward casually took a sip of wine. “If Yvonne found out Harrison staged that car crash to have her uterus removed, do you think she’d go crazy?” My knees buckled, and I stumbled backward two steps. What the doctor said was true. My uterus was really gone, snatched away by Harrison Foster! The car accident three years ago was actually orchestrated by Harrison Foster? All to have my uterus removed? But the Foster family were the ones demanding I bear a child. Harrison Foster was the one who personally begged me to try to get pregnant. He cruelly stripped away my right to be a mother forever, yet he still put on a massive show of taking me to checkups and trying to conceive with me? For Scarlett Sterling, he went as far as to desecrate my body to this extent! No wonder he insisted on going to a specific hospital and seeing a specific doctor for every checkup. He was terrified I would catch on. If I hadn’t had stomach pain today and just gone to the nearest hospital, I would still be completely in the dark! Inside the room, someone spoke up, a trace of pity in their voice. “To be fair, Yvonne is pretty innocent in all this. Removing her uterus was a bit harsh, don’t you think?” Charles Ward sneered. “What other choice did we have? We couldn’t let her actually get pregnant with Harrison’s kid. What if Arthur and Sharon really did relent and let her marry in? What would Scarlett do then?” I could barely stand anymore. I stumbled backward a few steps, leaning heavily against the wall to keep myself from collapsing. Harrison Foster, you really are something else! For Scarlett Sterling, you destroyed me completely! Harrison Foster, who had been silent all this time, finally spoke. “Keep your mouths shut, all of you. Yvonne must never find out.” Several people immediately chimed in, “Of course, of course.” “Scarlett is coming back tonight. Once she’s back, Harrison, you’ll probably start planning the wedding, right? What do you plan to do with Yvonne?” “Harrison, you’ve seemed pretty attentive to Yvonne these past few years. Do you really not have any feelings for her at all?” I locked eyes on at Harrison Foster. The man remained silent for a long moment before finally speaking. “Scarlett is the only one I love.” “But since Yvonne has been with me, I’ll make sure she’s well-provided for.” “You’re a penniless orphan with no family connections to fall back on. For someone like her, this is already a level of fortune she could only dream of.” I had no idea how I got out of that club. The hallways, the elevator, the lobby… everything was spinning. It turned out that the people who sweet-talked me and called me “sister-in-law” to my face spoke of me with nothing but absolute mockery behind my back. It turned out the love and devotion I thought we shared was nothing but a calculated, manipulative scam. It turned out he had never loved me, nor had he ever planned to spend the rest of his life with me. I was nothing more than a stepping stone to pave the way for Scarlett Sterling. I took a cab straight to the immigration office. The clerk at the counter told me that standard visa processing took two weeks, but an expedited application could be processed in a week. “Expedited.” I answered without hesitation. Back at the villa I shared with Harrison Foster, I immediately started packing my things. I packed every single thing he had ever given me into boxes, intending to sell them all. As for my own belongings, I threw out everything except for the absolute essentials. Before I could even finish, a familiar voice sounded from behind me. “Yvonne, why are you suddenly packing?”

Yvonne’s POV Harrison Foster looked slightly tense. Without looking up, I continued pulling things out of the closet. “Throwing out what needs to be thrown out to make room for the new.” Thinking I was just rotating my seasonal wardrobe, Harrison Foster let out a visible sigh of relief. He smiled and walked over, patting my head. “Good idea. Throw them out. I’ll take you shopping for new ones in a couple of days.” I forced a faint smile but said nothing. Harrison stopped focusing on me and looked down at his phone. A smile tugged at his lips, his expression filled with a relaxed sense of anticipation I had never seen on him before. While scrolling through his phone, he handed me an auction catalog and a black card. “Don’t go to the office this afternoon. A friend is coming back to the country tonight, and we’re holding a welcome dinner. Go to the auction for me and win Lot 37.” I flipped open the catalog, my eyes landing on the designated page. *Tears of the Stars*—a sapphire necklace once belonging to Queen Victoria’s private collection. The last time it surfaced at an auction was eight years ago, fetching seventy-six million and sending shockwaves through the entire collecting circle. Since then, the collector had stubbornly refused to part with it. Its sudden release now came with a staggering starting price of fifty million listed in the catalog. I understood immediately. The friend returning tonight was Scarlett Sterling. And this necklace was meant for her. And he wanted me to personally bid on it for his true love. A sharp ache flared in my chest once more. I swallowed hard before speaking. “What spending limit am I working with here?” Harrison Foster didn’t even look up. “Spare no expense to secure the lot for me.” For Scarlett, he truly spared no expense. I gripped the catalog tightly. In all the years we had been together, the gifts Harrison Foster gave me never exceeded two million. His excuse was that he didn’t want Sharon to think I was vain or unworthy of the family’s reputation. I had never complained, because I had never been after his money anyway. But now I finally realized those were all just excuses. It was simply because a low-born substitute like me wasn’t worth the price tag in his heart. I slipped the catalog into my bag, pausing for a brief second as I reached for the black card. This was a black card tied to the corporate account, not Harrison Foster’s personal card. Using this card meant using corporate funds to purchase a personal gift for the president. I quietly pocketed the card and said nothing. That afternoon, at the auction. As *Tears of the Stars* was brought out for the grand finale, the room instantly buzzed with excitement. Buyers raised their bidding paddles one after another. Starting at fifty million, the bids climbed rapidly. Eighty million, one hundred million, one hundred and fifty million. In the end, it was down to a fierce bidding war between myself and a Middle Eastern buyer sitting diagonally across from me. One hundred and sixty million, one hundred and eighty million. They were decisive with their bids, but I was even more ruthless. After all, it wasn’t my money. It was Foster Group’s. “Two hundred million.” I raised my paddle, my voice completely flat. The entire room fell into an uproar. The auctioneer called it three times before striking the gavel. *Tears of the Stars* was sold for two hundred million. The auction house staff came over with the paperwork. After signing, I handed over the black card and added casually, “Register the buyer as Scarlett Sterling.” Clutching the briefcase containing the necklace, I went straight to the dinner. When I pushed open the door to the private room, the place was already packed. Harrison Foster sat in the middle of the couch, with a woman pressed close to his side. She bore a striking resemblance to me, looking nearly identical, though her demeanor was far more flamboyant. It was Scarlett Sterling. Harrison was leaning in, talking to Scarlett, a rare softness in his eyes. When I pushed the door open and walked in, he didn’t even turn his head. Charles Ward was the first to see me. He deliberately cleared his throat. “Ms. Vance is here.” In front of Scarlett, he had stopped calling me “sister-in-law.” Mason Cole also stood up, nodding politely yet distantly, “Ms. Vance.” Everyone in the room tacitly switched their forms of address. Scarlett Sterling looked over, her eyes lingering on my face for a moment before she flashed an elegant, poised smile. “This must be Harrison’s girlfriend, right?” She walked over, tilting her head to look me up and down before speaking in a warm tone. “Has anyone ever told you that we look a bit alike?” Harrison Foster’s expression tightened instantly, and he opened his mouth to speak. I had already calmly extended my hand. “Really? What a coincidence.” Charles Ward quickly rushed over, holding a glass. “Scarlett, you must be jet-lagged. Sit, sit! We’re going to celebrate your return properly tonight.” Mason Cole also smoothed things over. “All the food has been ordered, and they are all your favorites, Scarlett.” I let go of Scarlett’s hand and sat in a corner seat furthest from the center. Scarlett Sterling sat back down next to Harrison, pulling out a simply wrapped cupcake. “Harrison, I brought this just for you. Eat it while it’s fresh.” Harrison’s lips curved upward as he immediately reached out to accept it. Catching sight of the crushed peanuts on the cake, I blurted out instinctively: “There’s peanut butter in that. You’re allergic to peanuts.” The private room fell dead silent. Scarlett Sterling looked so guilt-ridden she seemed on the verge of tears. She reached out to take the cake back. “I’m so sorry, Harrison! I didn’t know you were allergic to peanuts. Let’s just throw it away.” Harrison Foster stopped her, shooting a displeased look in my direction. “She has a bad memory. I’m not allergic. I can eat it.” Right in front of everyone, he ate the entire cake. Within ten minutes, Harrison’s face flushed, red hives rapidly spreading down his neck as his breathing grew labored and shallow. Harrison was rushed to the ER. Sharon Foster rushed to the hospital the moment she heard. “What happened!” Charles Ward and Mason Cole stood in the corner with their heads bowed, neither of them daring to speak first. Just as I opened my mouth, Harrison, lying on the bed, beat me to it, his voice hoarse. “Yvonne bought the pastry and didn’t realize there was peanut butter in it. She didn’t do it on purpose. Sharon, don’t blame her.” I whipped my head around to look at him. Charles Ward and Mason Cole spoke up almost simultaneously. “Sharon, Yvonne didn’t mean to. Let’s just drop it.” Instead of cooling down, Sharon’s rage only flared. “Drop it? Don’t you know how life-threatening Harrison’s allergy is? He could have died! You’ve been with him for three years and you didn’t even know this? How dare you still stand here?” I opened my mouth. Sharon didn’t even give me a chance to explain. She gestured to the bodyguards waiting outside. “Take her back to the villa.” I was hauled out of the room by two bodyguards. Harrison kept his head down, refusing to look at me. I was dragged to the basement of the Foster mansion and forced onto my knees on the freezing stone floor. Sharon Foster stared down at me with pure disgust and rage. “You’re an orphan with no one to rely on. Harrison was kind enough to take you in, clothe you, feed you, and let you live in a multi-million-dollar mansion. Do you have no self-awareness about your lowly background?” “You haven’t even been able to produce a single child in three years, and now you can’t even remember my son’s allergens! What right do you have to stay by Harrison’s side?” Sharon’s anger mounted. She gestured to a nearby servant, “Get the whip! I’m going to teach her a lesson today!” I suddenly looked up. “I’m breaking up with Harrison Foster.” Sharon froze. “What did you say?” I looked her dead in the eye, keeping my spine perfectly straight. “I’ll cut all ties with Harrison and vanish from your family’s lives for good.” Sharon Foster stared at me scrutinizingly, as if trying to judge whether I was speaking out of anger or if I was serious. I didn’t avert my gaze. “But I have one condition.” “Give me fifty million.”

Yvonne Vance POV When Sharon Foster heard the words “break up,” most of the anger on her face instantly vanished. “Are you serious?” “Dead serious.” Sharon immediately took out her phone to transfer the money, terrified that I would go back on my word. “Fifty million, there you go.” The transaction notification chimed instantly. “So when are you leaving?” “Within a week.” Sharon nodded in satisfaction. “If you’re still here when the time is up, don’t blame me for being ruthless.” I calmly verified that the money had arrived, then stood up and walked out. Survival requires money, and so does revenge. Fifty million was not a lot. The moment I stepped out of the Foster family villa, I dialed my friend Lydia Taylor’s number. “Help me find a capable private investigator.” After Lydia heard what I wanted to investigate, her voice cracked with rage. “He staged a car accident to give you a hysterectomy?” “Yes.” “Leave it to me! I’ll definitely find someone to dig up everything on that bastard Harrison Foster!” After taking care of all this, I returned to the villa. Harrison was not home. I didn’t know if he was still at the hospital or if he was with Scarlett Sterling. He hadn’t sent me any messages, and I didn’t ask. I used to ask. No matter how late it was, as long as Harrison hadn’t returned, I would text him and wait for him to let me know he was safe. But starting today, I didn’t care anymore. I moved all my pre-packed boxes to the living room and contacted a secondhand luxury goods dealer to pick them up. After counting everything, the dealer paid me promptly. Looking at the string of numbers on my phone, some of the suffocating weight in my heart lifted slightly. Lydia sent over the private investigator’s contact info. I sent a message to the private investigator: [Dig up everything about Scarlett Sterling’s time abroad over the past few years as well. I’ll double your fee.] The next day, I went to the office as usual. The project in my hands still had a bit of wrapping up to do. Just as I stepped into the office area, I heard several employees gossiping around the pantry. “Yesterday Mr. Foster personally brought Ms. Sterling to the office. He was holding doors and pouring water for her the whole time. Have you ever seen Mr. Foster treat anyone like that?” “Ms. Sterling has such an elegant aura. She and Mr. Foster look so good together.” “I heard they grew up together, and she only returned after getting her MBA abroad.” During my years at the company, Harrison never allowed me to make our relationship public. His excuse was that gossip spreads fast in a crowded office, and he was afraid that colleagues’ talk would affect me. I had risen from an intern to the Associate Director of the Marketing Department on my own merit, landing several core projects along the way. No one in the company knew about my relationship with Harrison. Someone saw me and sidled over. “Yvonne, I heard you helped bid on that two-hundred-million-dollar necklace at the auction the day before yesterday? Was it a gift from Mr. Foster to Ms. Sterling? Don’t you think they’re a perfect match?” I took a sip of water, my expression unchanged. “They do look quite compatible.” The moment the words left my mouth, a cold, sharp male voice cut in. “Gossiping during work hours?” Harrison’s face was dark. Everyone instantly fell silent. The employees lowered their heads and immediately dispersed. Harrison swept a glance over me, said nothing, and turned to leave. At 10:00 AM, a general management meeting was held. Harrison sat at the head of the conference table, with Scarlett Sterling on his right. “Ms. Scarlett Sterling, an MBA graduate from Bocconi University, officially joins the Foster Group today as our Marketing Director.” A minor commotion rippled through the conference room. Marketing Director was supposed to be my upcoming promotion. Without looking at me, Harrison continued. “The bidding and cooperation project with the Oceanus Group will be handed over to Director Sterling starting today. Yvonne Vance will serve as Director Sterling’s Project Assistant to help complete the transition.” The conference room went dead silent. From the project’s initiation until now, all the preliminary research, proposals, and client relations had been built by me alone. With the bidding just around the corner, to suddenly change leaders made everyone turn their eyes to me. I kept my head down, staring at the notebook in front of me, hiding my expression. After the meeting adjourned, I went back to my desk to pack up. I was no longer the Associate Director; I needed to move to an assistant’s desk. Sadie Cross, an employee I had mentored for two years, rushed over and lowered her voice. “Yvonne, this is way too much! The Oceanus project is clearly yours, and you wrote the entire proposal. On what grounds does she just show up out of nowhere and—” I shook my head, signaling her to drop it. Whispers from the neighboring cubicles drifted over. “I knew Yvonne and Mr. Foster had something going on. Otherwise, how could an intern become an Associate Director in just three years?” “Now that his real love is back, of course she, the substitute, has to step aside.” “I used to think she was so capable. Turns out she just slept her way to the top?” Furious, Sadie turned to confront them, but I grabbed her arm to stop her. Without even glancing at them, I organized my documents and calmly retorted, “Before worrying about other people, you might want to check your performance rankings from last quarter. You’re both on the bottom list.” Their faces stiffened, and their voices instantly died down. Sadie gave them a harsh glare. Harrison’s assistant, Gary, came over with a message. “Yvonne, Mr. Foster wants to see you in the CEO’s office.” I knocked and entered. Harrison approached me the moment he saw me. His expression was much gentler now, a complete contrast to his demeanor in the conference room. “Yvonne, Sharon didn’t make things difficult for you yesterday, did she?” Looking at his concerned expression, I felt nothing but irony. “Whether she did or not, isn’t it all thanks to you?” An awkward look flashed across Harrison’s face. “Scarlett had good intentions; she didn’t know I was allergic to peanuts. We can’t really blame her for that.” I sneered inwardly. Scarlett was the love of his life. Among the three of us, he knew better than anyone who the real outsider was. Harrison ruffled my hair and explained further. “Scarlett just arrived, so she needs a prestigious title to command respect. The director title is only temporary. Once you finish the Oceanus project, I’ll transfer you to the Strategic Development Department as a manager. I won’t mistreat you, alright?” I lowered my eyes. “Don’t bother. I plan to resign.” Harrison’s brow furrowed. “Stop throwing a fit.” He reached out and pulled me into his embrace. My entire body went rigid. In the past, Harrison had never touched me at the company. Even when we were the only two in the elevator, he would keep his distance, saying it would look bad if people saw us. I pushed against his chest, using his own excuse to reject him. “Gossip spreads fast. Let’s not let anyone see.” Harrison’s frown deepened, and just as he was about to retort— “Harrison?” The office door was pushed straight open, and Scarlett stood in the doorway. Reflexively, Harrison let go and shoved me away in a panic. I stumbled back a couple of steps, my lower back slamming violently against the sharp corner of the office desk. A sharp pain shot up my spine, and cold sweat instantly drenched my back. Harrison had already turned his back on me, walking toward Scarlett. “Scarlett, what is it?” Scarlett put on a troubled look and handed him some documents. “The bidding base price calculation data for Project Department Two over the past three years is too messy. There are a lot of special deductions that I don’t understand. We need them for the meeting with our partners tomorrow, so we must sort out the details tonight.” Harrison immediately turned to me. “Yvonne, work overtime today and compile all the data Director Sterling needs.” I held onto the edge of the desk to straighten up, my back still throbbing with waves of sharp pain. I had no desire to work overtime just to hand my hard work over to Scarlett, and I was about to refuse. Harrison saw right through my thoughts. “If you won’t do it, I’ll have your subordinates do it. If Sadie and her team can’t even handle this, the Marketing Department has no need for freeloaders.” Right now was a critical window for several of my subordinates’ performance reviews and promotions. Harrison was threatening me. I took a deep breath, suppressing the pain. “I’ll do it.”

Yvonne Vance POV Leaving the CEO’s office, I returned to my desk to work overtime. One by one, my colleagues left for the day, until I was the only person left in the office. I checked the progress; I would likely have to pull an all-nighter. I brewed a cup of coffee and stood by the floor-to-ceiling window, sipping it. It was raining outside. At the main entrance of the building, Harrison stood with Scarlett under an umbrella. The umbrella was tilted almost entirely over Scarlett. Harrison’s side was completely soaked, while Scarlett’s clothes hadn’t caught a single drop of rain. The two of them talked and laughed as they got into the car. I didn’t have a driver’s license back then, so I had to take taxis to and from work. On rainy days when cabs were hard to get, I had asked Harrison if he could give me a ride. He said there were too many people at the company entrance and he was afraid that being seen would be bad for me. At the time, I thought he was just cold by nature and kept a strict boundary between public and private life. But when it came to Scarlett, he wasn’t afraid of anything. “It would look bad if people saw us”? He simply felt that I, Yvonne Vance, wasn’t worth the trouble. A love like this wasn’t worth another ounce of my effort. I downed the rest of my coffee in one gulp and turned back to my desk. The sky outside the window shifted from black to deep blue, then from deep blue to a pale grey. After pulling an all-nighter, I finally sent the compiled data to Scarlett’s email. Having not slept all night, my head was heavy and my temples throbbed painfully. I wanted to request some time off to go home and sleep, but a meeting notification popped up on my phone. 9:30 AM: General Management Meeting. I rubbed my sore eyes, closed my laptop, and headed to the conference room. Scarlett stood in front of the projector, confidently flipping through her PPT. When she reached the slide for the bid price, the screen clearly displayed a quote of 1.87 billion. My entire body went rigid. The quote I submitted was 187 million. Now, there was an extra zero. The bidding results were already out. The Foster Group’s quote was absurdly ten times higher than its competitors’, leading to an immediate disqualification. Just like that, the bidding project with the Oceanus Group was lost. The conference room was dead silent. Scarlett’s face paled, and she immediately turned to me. “Yvonne, I submitted it based on your version.” I looked straight at Harrison. “I submitted a quote of 187 million. The sending records and original files are in my mailbox, and we can pull them up for verification at any time.” Scarlett’s eyes turned red instantly. “Are you implying that I altered the data, Yvonne? And that I’m trying to frame you?” Before I could even respond, the main screen in the conference room suddenly switched displays. The screen was filled with photos. Every single one was an intimate photo of Scarlett and Harrison. Each photo had a red “X” drawn over it. Captions like “Homewrecker,” “Using casting couch rules to join the company,” and “Shameless” were slapped across them. Scarlett’s face went completely white. She covered her mouth and burst into tears. Harrison stood up abruptly. “Turn it off!” The IT staff scrambled in a panic to pull the signal cables. Harrison glared at me, his gaze freezing. “Screwing up the bidding data, shifting the blame to your director, and using the company’s meeting system to humiliate and take revenge on a colleague. Yvonne, instead of wasting your energy on these underhanded tactics, you should think about how to actually do your job!” With a single sentence, he pinned all the blame entirely on me. Harrison swept Scarlett up in his arms and strode out of the conference room. The gazes of everyone in the room fell upon me—some with pity, others with schadenfreude. I remained seated, unmoved, as my fingernails dug deep into my palms. I was not going to take the fall for this. Neither the data error nor the photos on the screen had anything to do with me. I stood up and went straight to the CEO’s office. “It wasn’t me.” Harrison had just finished comforting Scarlett in the lounge. Hearing my words, his face remained devoid of any warmth. “Other than you, who else has a motive?” “I don’t even know Scarlett, nor did I know about these photos of you two. Why would I have a motive? Unless… is there actually something going on between you two?” Harrison cut me off coldly. “Scarlett is my childhood friend, and our relationship is completely innocent. She holds an MBA from Bocconi and is fully capable of being the director. There’s no shame in losing to her, but using such disgusting methods to slander her makes me sick.” The blood rushed to my head. Harrison looked at me, disappointment written all over his face. “You don’t need to come back. HR will send your termination notice tomorrow.” I shot back immediately. “Perfect. I didn’t want this job anyway.” I turned and walked away without looking back. Back at my desk, I began packing up my personal belongings. Three men in security uniforms walked over. The leader reached out and snatched my bag directly. “Ms. Vance, the company suspects you of leaking trade secrets to competitors during your employment. According to company policy, your personal belongings must be inspected before you leave.” Before I could react, he flipped my bag upside down. My wallet, lipstick, tissues, keys, and loose receipts clattered all over the floor. My phone was snatched away by another guard. My colleagues stopped their work to stare and whisper. I knelt down to gather my things. “Now that the inspection is done, can I go?” “Wait.” Scarlett stopped me, her face a mask of official business. “We’ve checked the bag, but we haven’t done a body search yet. After all, trade secrets are involved. If you’ve hidden something on your person, the company can’t afford the loss.” Sadie couldn’t stand it any longer and blocked her path, standing in front of me. “Director Sterling, the company has never had a policy for body searches. Isn’t this inappropriate?” Scarlett cast a cold glance at her. “This project involves billions of dollars in cooperation. If something goes wrong, who’s taking responsibility? Can you afford to?” Sadie was left speechless. Two security guards stepped forward, pulled Sadie aside, and grabbed me by the arms on both sides. I struggled with all my might, but how could a single woman hold off two grown men? My coat was ripped open, the collar torn apart, exposing my underwear. The office became so quiet you could hear a pin drop. A cold, deep voice echoed from the end of the corridor. “What are you doing?” Harrison stood there. Everyone stopped in their tracks. Scarlett quickly walked up to him, looking completely unbothered. “Harrison, I’m doing this for the company’s security. Surely you’re not getting soft-hearted because of her?” Harrison’s gaze fell on my disheveled state. A flash of heartache flickered in his eyes, but it vanished instantly. He looked away. “I’m not.” He draped his arm around Scarlett’s shoulders and turned to leave. Sadie immediately took off her coat and draped it over me. “Yvonne, they’ve gone way too far.” I pulled the coat tight around myself without saying a word, picked up my bag, and headed for the elevator. Sadie followed me all the way to the building’s main entrance. I turned to look at her. “Go back. Don’t pick fights with Scarlett Sterling. If she turns out to be a terrible boss, find yourself another path as soon as possible.” Sadie nodded, her eyes rimmed with red. The rain outside was heavier than the night before. I wrapped Sadie’s coat tightly around myself, standing under the awning to hail a cab. A black Maybach pulled up in front of me, and the driver, Wayne, rolled down the window. “Ms. Vance, Mr. Foster asked me to drive you back.” I glanced at the torrential rain and decided not to make life harder for myself. I opened the door and got in. When the car stopped in front of the villa, it was still pouring. I rushed to the door in the rain and entered the lock passcode. The voice prompt chimed: “Incorrect passcode.”

Yvonne Vance POV I had no choice but to ring the doorbell. No one answered. Harrison preferred quiet, so no live-in housekeepers stayed at the house; only cleaning staff came on a schedule. I rang it a few more times, but still, there was no response. I only had a bit of change on me. My phone had been confiscated at the office, and my ID was inside the house, leaving me unable to even check into a hotel. The rain fell harder and harder. The coat was already soaked through, clinging to my body and dripping water. I leaned against the porch pillar, shivering violently from the cold. I don’t know how much time passed before a pair of headlights cut through the curtain of rain. A black Rolls-Royce pulled into the driveway, and Harrison walked over holding an umbrella. Seeing me huddled by the door, his handsome brow furrowed. “It’s pouring. Why didn’t you go inside?” “The passcode was changed. I can’t get in.” Harrison paused, realization dawning on him. “Scarlett was shaken up today, so I had her come to the house to rest. She couldn’t remember the original passcode, so I let her set her own. I forgot to tell you.” He entered the new passcode and pushed the door open. I followed him into the living room. Scarlett was curled up on the sofa with a face mask on, holding the remote to flip through channels. Seeing Harrison and me walking in one after the other, she immediately stood up. Gazing at my soaking-wet, disheveled state, she wore a look of deep concern. “Ms. Vance, why are you so drenched?” I didn’t bother with pleasantries and asked her directly: “I rang the doorbell. Since you were home, why didn’t you open the door?” Scarlett looked flustered. “Did you ring the doorbell? I didn’t hear it. I wasn’t feeling very well after I came back, so I went upstairs to lie down for a bit. Why didn’t you ring it a few more times?” Harrison quickly wrapped an arm around Scarlett’s shoulders to comfort her. “Scarlett didn’t do it on purpose, so don’t make a big deal out of it. Yvonne, go change your clothes first.” Scarlett quickly went to the dining room, poured a cup of hot water, and handed it to me. “Drink some water to warm up. As for what happened during the day, we were all doing it for the good of the company. Ms. Vance won’t blame me, right?” I was indeed freezing, so I reached out to take it. Before my fingers could even touch the cup, it tilted, and the scalding water poured all over me. A patch of red quickly flared up on my forearm. I gasped in pain. Scarlett instantly looked aggrieved and angry. “Ms. Vance, even if we had a conflict at work during the day, you didn’t have to set me up like this! I kindly brought you water, and you turn around and accuse me of scalding you?” Before I could say a single word, the blame had already been pinned on me. Harrison looked at me, his tone impatient. “I told you, stop playing these petty mind games.” He turned and shielded Scarlett as they went upstairs. I was left alone in the living room. I found some burn ointment and applied it to my forearm. The skin was bright red, and blisters were already starting to form in some places. After applying the medicine, I returned to my bedroom. Having been in the rain for so long, my whole body felt freezing and heavy. I took a quick shower and got into bed. I didn’t know how long I had slept when someone pushed open the bedroom door. I opened my eyes sleepily to see Harrison standing by the bed. He placed a new phone on the nightstand, holding a bowl of corn chowder in his hand. “You went to sleep without eating dinner?” I stared blankly at the bowl of corn chowder. Did he make corn chowder specifically for me? My heart trembled slightly. I was indeed hungry, so I sat up, took the bowl, and took a sip. Harrison sat down on the edge of the bed, his tone softening a bit. “Scarlett was terrified by the photos you leaked today. She was crying and shaking, and she still hasn’t recovered.” “I let her stay here at the house, which can be considered making amends to her on your behalf. You need to know your place in the future and stop doing things like this.” I suddenly couldn’t swallow the corn chowder in my mouth. I set the bowl down and looked up directly at Harrison. “I wasn’t the one who posted those photos. Go investigate it yourself.” Harrison looked at me with scrutiny. My gaze was serious, without any evasion. For a brief second, he wavered. He picked up his phone, preparing to make a call. Just then, his phone rang right on cue. Scarlett’s name was flashing on the screen. Harrison immediately threw what just happened to the back of his mind and answered it gently. “Harrison, is the corn chowder ready?” Scarlett’s voice was soft and sweet, sounding like she was acting cute. “Yes, it’s ready. I’ll be right over.” Harrison hung up the phone and gave me instructions as he walked out. “Take your time drinking it. I’m heading out first.” The bedroom door clicked shut. I looked at the bowl of corn chowder. The more I looked at it, the more of an eyesore it became. It turned out the corn chowder wasn’t made for me. The bowl given to me was just a leftover gesture. I didn’t drink any more of it, letting the corn chowder grow completely cold. Faint chatter and laughter drifted from Scarlett’s room next door. Harrison stayed with Scarlett the entire night and never returned. In the middle of the night, I developed a fever. I curled up in the blankets in a daze, drifting in and out of consciousness. After dawn, the bedroom door was violently kicked open. Two bodyguards walked in. Each grabbed one of my arms and dragged me straight out of bed. Burning with fever, my whole body was weak and limp. I could barely find my footing as the two of them dragged me all the way down the stairs to the first floor. My knees banged against the steps, but with my fever, even the pain felt unreal. Scarlett sat right in the center of the sofa, her legs crossed, casually enjoying my disheveled and weak state. “Harrison went out. He’s not home.” She slowly walked over to me, looking down at me from above. “Yvonne, it’s time we settled our scores.”

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On our third anniversary, Clement pressured me to bring some files he had left at home to his campus. Heavily pregnant, I braved the pouring rain and headed out with the specific files he insisted on having. But less than five hundred meters from the school, a group of local thugs cornered me in a dark alley to rob me. To protect Clement’s files, I held onto my bag with all my might. Infuriated, the thugs stabbed me repeatedly. My blood stained the rain-slicked pavement a gruesome crimson. As I weakly tried to call Clement for help, his childhood friend Matt’s call came through first. Over the speaker, I could hear Clement and his friends laughing and making a bet. “Hey Clement, is Caroline really going to bring you those files in this storm?” “Aren’t you afraid she’ll find out the envelope only contains the sketch you drew of Grace and get mad at you?” Clement let out a soft chuckle, his tone dripping with sheer contempt. “She wouldn’t dare.” Clement’s words hit me like a physical blow. I stumbled, lost my footing, and collapsed heavily onto the cold, wet ground. To the sound of Grace and Clement flirting and laughing through the phone, my consciousness slowly faded away as I lay in the dark. Two hours later, having lost a massive amount of blood, I was rushed to the ER. When I finally woke up, the doctor gave me a pitiful look and shook his head. It was too late. The baby was gone. I stared blankly at my now-flat stomach, letting the tears stream silently down my face. Clement, since you let me lose our child over a stupid joke with your friends, I’m done. I’ll let you two have each other.

As I was getting my IV drip, my phone on the bedside table suddenly buzzed. Clement’s Instagram had updated. It was a family portrait. It featured everyone in Clement’s family, with Grace leaning tightly against his shoulder. The caption read: “The happiest family dinner ever.” I couldn’t help but tap the heart button and leave a like. Almost instantly, Clement’s FaceTime call came through, his voice laced with annoyance. “Caroline, the family dinner has already started. Where the hell are you? If you didn’t want to come, you should’ve just said so!” “How do you even have the nerve to let Grace run around and host everyone in your place?” Before I could even open my mouth to tell him I was in the hospital, he hung up on me. My eyes welled up instantly, but I squeezed them shut, forcing myself not to cry. “Oh, Caroline, sweetheart. You just got out of a life-threatening surgery. You need to calm down. Don’t cry, it’s bad for your recovery!” The nurse saw my tears and quickly came over, her eyes filled with deep sympathy. “Caroline, the stab wound punctured your abdomen and severely damaged your uterus. You… you might not be able to get pregnant again.” Her words felt like a physical strike to my chest. My face went completely pale. That night, everything that had happened during the day replayed in my mind. I tossed and turned, unable to sleep as a sharp, throbbing pain radiated from my stitches. The next morning, in a daze, I felt someone gently tucking in my blanket. I opened my eyes. It was Clement. A container of pasta he had brought was sitting on the nightstand, still steaming. He reached out to touch my forehead. “You’re awake? Why didn’t you tell me you got hurt last night?” I subtly pulled back, avoiding his touch, and said half-heartedly: “I didn’t think it was a big deal, so I didn’t mention it.” A flicker of surprise crossed Clement’s eyes. In the past, even if I got a tiny paper cut, I would cling to him and whine for attention. He couldn’t understand why I was suddenly so cold. He picked up the pasta, blowing on it gently to cool it down. “I brought you breakfast. Come on, open up.” I stared at him blankly. Right now, this Clement looked no different from the gentle, caring husband he used to be. But when exactly did he change? I took small bites of the pasta, my mind drifting through old memories. Clement stepped out of the room to throw away some trash. Ding. His phone on the nightstand lit up. It was a Snapchat message from Grace, accompanied by a cute sticker. Driven by some strange impulse, I unlocked his phone and tapped on their chat. [Clement, what happened to Caroline? Is she doing any better?] [Don’t worry, she won’t die.] A mocking smile touched my lips as I put the phone back exactly where it was. When Clement returned, he glanced at his phone, then left without even looking back, throwing a careless promise over his shoulder. “Get some rest. I’ll come back to see you and bring you dinner after work.” The day dragged on in silence. I ate the bland hospital food the nurse had kindly bought for me from the cafeteria, aimlessly scrolling through my phone. Suddenly, an Instagram Reel posted by Grace popped up on my feed. My fingers trembled as I tapped on it. In the video, the two of them were standing at the edge of a bungee jumping platform. Grace was covering her eyes in fear, burying herself in Clement’s chest. He smiled dotingly, securing her safety harness before wrapping his arms tightly around her. Together, they leaped off the platform. The crowd around them cheered at their thrilling, romantic jump. The caption read: “Someone’s way of cheering me up is so romantic!!! No annoying third wheels around. What a perfect day.” Watching the video, my grip on the fork in my hand tightened until my knuckles turned white. Clement has a heart condition. Ever since I got together with him, I had given up all the extreme sports I loved just to keep him safe. I never imagined he would risk his own life doing something so dangerous just to make Grace happy. I took a deep breath and dialed Dr. Porter, my former advisor at NYU. “Professor, I’ve decided. I’d love to join your research team and work in your lab.”

“Caroline, are you absolutely sure? You know my lab has very strict rules. You’ll have to live on campus and be on call constantly…” “I’m sure, Dr. Porter. Please make the arrangements.” After hanging up, I booked a one-way flight to New York for a week later. The next second, Clement’s suspicious voice sounded from behind me. “Caroline, why are you looking at flights? Where are you going?” I calmly locked my screen and slipped the phone away. “Nothing. I just clicked on an ad by mistake.” He frowned, staring at me intensely. He knew I had no family or friends in this city. Years ago, I had abandoned everything to follow him to Miami, thousands of miles away from my hometown. During our years of marriage, I had sacrificed all my hobbies and social life, letting my entire world revolve around him. Seeing nothing unusual on my face, his expression softened. He handed me a takeout box. “What do you want to eat tomorrow? I’ll bring it over.” A strong, pungent smell of spicy seafood hit my nose. I recoiled slightly and shook my head. “No, thank you. I’ve already eaten.” Clement’s face immediately darkened. “Caroline, you’re just throwing a tantrum because I brought your food late.” “You have nothing to do but relax in this hospital room all day. Can’t you show some appreciation for how hard I work and how much I have to overtime?” Listening to his typical blame-shifting, I couldn’t help but let out a dry laugh. My reaction seemed to infuriate him. He tossed the takeout box straight into the trash can. “Fine. Starve then.” As Clement was about to walk out of the room, I couldn’t help but ask. “Clement, as a prestigious university professor, do you really not know the basic medical common sense that post-surgery patients cannot have spicy food or seafood?” His footsteps halted. But he didn’t apologize. He walked out without looking back, leaving the room smelling of spicy seafood. Five days later, I discharged myself and went home. Before I even reached the door, I could hear laughter and music coming from inside. My hand froze on the doorknob. I pushed the door open. The living room was covered in Grace’s portrait posters, with birthday balloons floating everywhere. A crowd was throwing a huge birthday party for Grace. Surrounded by cheering friends, Clement was sharing a drink with a blushing Grace. Grace looked up, saw me, and smirked. “Caroline! You’re out of the hospital! Why are you just standing at the door? Come in!” Hearing her voice, everyone turned to look at the entrance. Clement quickly let go of Grace’s waist and walked over to help me sit on the couch. “Why didn’t you call me to pick you up?” I looked at him with a faint, tired smile. “I did call you. You didn’t pick up.”

The guests exchanged awkward glances, and a tense silence fell over the living room. Ignoring the awkwardness, I politely greeted everyone and made my way to our bedroom to start packing my things. Suddenly, Clement grabbed my wrist. He spoke in a casual, matter-of-fact tone: “Caroline, today is Grace’s birthday. Give your tenure promotion slot to her. Just consider it a birthday gift.” “You’re injured and need to recover anyway. Your old, less demanding teaching assistant job is much better suited for your recovery.” Thinking about how I would be leaving soon anyway, I simply nodded. “Okay.” Clement obviously didn’t expect me to agree so easily. Realizing his demand was indeed a bit selfish, he stood there, momentarily stunned. A few seconds later, a smile returned to his face. He handed me a slice of birthday cake. “Weren’t you looking at flights the other day? Once you’re fully recovered, I’ll take you on a trip abroad.” I found his attempt at compensation absolutely hilarious. In all our years of marriage, he had spent almost every vacation taking Grace abroad. The times he had traveled with me, his actual wife, could be counted on one hand. I set the cake back down on the table and shook my head dismissively. “We’ll see.” “I’m exhausted. I’m going to lay down.” With that, I walked straight into the bedroom. The next morning before classes started, Clement left my favorite breakfast on my desk. My colleagues giggled and teased me. “Clement is so sweet! He’s not only the youngest professor on campus, but he’s also so devoted to Caroline…” I just smiled, handed his breakfast to them, and opened my laptop to draft my resignation letter. During lunch break, an unwelcome guest walked into my office. Grace came in, wearing a fake, sweet smile to thank me for giving up the promotion. “Caroline, you’re so amazing. You can get promotions just by relying on your academic skills.” “Unlike me. I have to rely on Clement for everything.” A smug glint flashed in her eyes. She reached out to touch a trophy on my shelf. “Oh, this trophy is so pretty. Oops! How did it slip?” Before her voice even faded, the golden ceramic trophy shattered onto the floor, breaking into a million pieces. That trophy was won years ago when Clement, then a graduate senior, led our team to victory in an international competition. I was one of the team members back then. It was during that trip that I fell head over heels for him and chased him for three long years. That trophy held a special meaning for us. I had always kept it in my office, cherishing it. And now, shattered on the floor, it looked exactly like my fragile, dying marriage with Clement—broken beyond repair at a single touch. Quietly, I swept up the sharp ceramic shards and threw them all into the trash. As I walked out of the dean’s office after submitting my resignation, Clement stopped me. “Caroline, what were you doing in the dean’s office? What’s that in your hand?” He reached out, trying to grab the resignation letter from my hand. My heart skipped a beat. I quickly stuffed the letter into my bag, trying to hide my panic. Just then, Grace stepped out from behind him, her eyes red and watery. “Caroline, I really didn’t mean to break your trophy. Why did you have to go to the dean to complain and try to take away my promotion?” Clement’s face darkened, his gaze turning cold and demanding. “Grace already told me everything. It was just an accident.” “Stop being so petty.” I had skipped grades since I was a child. Technically, I was two years younger than Grace. I replied flatly, “I don’t care about it.” I tried to walk past them to leave. But Grace wouldn’t let me. She blocked my path, tears spilling over her cheeks. “Caroline, if you really don’t care, why are you lying? This promotion means everything to me. You already have Clement, why do you have to steal this from me too?” As she grabbed me, her fingers dug forcefully into my fresh abdominal stitches where Clement couldn’t see. The intense pressure caused my stitches to rip open. Cold sweat broke out on my forehead. Gasping in pain, I instinctively pushed her away. Grace stumbled back a few steps, falling right into Clement’s arms, sobbing hysterically. “Clement, I don’t know why Caroline hates me so much! What did I do wrong?” Clement’s eyes turned ice-cold. “Caroline, apologize to Grace right now!” Clutching my bleeding stomach, I gritted my teeth. “Why should I?” Slap! Clement raised his hand and slapped me hard across the face. “Caroline, stop playing these pathetic mind games behind my back. Do it again, and we are getting a divorce!” I stared at Clement’s back as he walked away, gently cradling Grace in his arms. I wiped the blood from the corner of my mouth. “Clement, you got it.” I packed up the rest of my office belongings and mailed them directly to New York. Then, I mailed our house keys back to Clement. Looking around the empty office, I suppressed the final trace of hesitation in my heart and turned to leave. As I walked out of the campus gates, my phone buzzed with a message from Clement. He said Grace had received her official promotion email, and they realized they had misunderstood me. He wanted to buy me dinner to make it up to me. Perhaps this would be our final dinner together. Fine. Let’s consider this the official end of our relationship. I agreed. When I opened the passenger door of Clement’s car, I saw Grace sitting there. Clement said casually: “Grace’s parents aren’t home to cook for her, and she wanted to apologize to you in person for what happened this afternoon.” I simply nodded, climbed into the back seat, and closed my eyes to rest. All the way to the restaurant, Grace chatted excitedly with Clement about her promotion. She mentioned how her new office would be so much closer to his now. Clement kept checking my expression through the rearview mirror, remaining unusually quiet. Twenty minutes later, we arrived at the restaurant. Halfway through the meal, Clement suddenly asked, “Why is your office completely empty?” “Oh, I just wanted to move to an office with better sunlight,” I lied, my voice devoid of any emotion. Near the end of the dinner, the chandelier above our table suddenly flickered, then crashed down with a deafening shatter. Glass shards flew everywhere as panic erupted in the restaurant. Since I was sitting closest to the blast, a sharp piece of glass sliced deep into my arm. Blood began to pour. Without even glancing at my bleeding arm, Clement instantly scooped Grace up in his arms and rushed out of the restaurant. Two hours later, after making sure Grace was safely settled in a hospital bed, Clement finally remembered me. A sudden wave of panic washed over him. He rushed back to the restaurant, but I was nowhere to be found. “Caroline!”

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The night before our wedding, my fiancée, Lucy, insisted on going to a bachelorette party thrown by her childhood friends. When I kicked open the VIP room door, I saw her riding another man, completely naked from the waist down. Seeing me, there wasn’t a single hint of panic on her face. “Don’t overthink it, Christian. This is just a special pre-marital crash course they set up for me.” “Each of them is showing me a different… technique. It’s going to take a while. Go wait outside!” I clamped down on my raging fury and barked, “Lucy! Get the hell off him right now, or I swear to God, I’ll make you pay for this!” She rolled her eyes, ignored me, and went right back to her wild group session. Right then and there, I pulled out my phone and ordered my people to freeze every single asset under her name. I revoked access to all the luxury cars and villas I had bought her. And I pulled every single dime of my investment from the Fabian Group. Since she wanted to throw my kindness back in my face, she shouldn’t blame me for ruining her life!

After I made those calls, Lucy was still splayed on the sofa. A single red stiletto lay lonely on the floor. Her other shoe was still dangling from her foot, tangled with a lace thong. Her skirt was pushed all the way up to her waist, leaving nothing to the imagination. The fat guy next to her still had his hand resting casually on her thigh. It felt like an invisible hand was strangling my throat. Looking at this disgusting scene, my anger finally boiled over. “Lucy! I am asking you one last time. Are you getting the hell off him or not?!” “Stop screaming!” Lucy aggressively slapped the fat guy’s hand off her leg and shrieked, “Do you have to ruin my important night to be satisfied?!” “I told you, it’s a pre-marital crash course! Do you not understand English?” “Now, either shut up and watch so you can learn something, or get the hell out of here!” The blood rushed straight to my head! I froze on the spot, my ears buzzing. It took me a few seconds to process the sheer audacity of her words. “You absolute trash!” My whole body shook as I pointed my finger at the bastards who were enjoying the show. “Getting felt up by these pieces of garbage is what you call a ‘course’?! Lucy, have you lost your mind?!” Lucy’s face instantly darkened. Without a word, she stood up, raised her hand, and slapped me hard across the face. She hit me so hard my cheek burned instantly, and a trickle of blood seeped from the corner of my mouth. “Christian, don’t you dare slander my friends!” “I am learning all this for your sake! Instead of thanking them, you’re standing here throwing a tantrum. You are being completely unreasonable!” I stared at her in shock, unable to believe such shameless words could actually come out of her mouth. Once I snapped out of it, I raised my hand and slapped her right back. “For my sake? Lucy, you are disgustingly shameless!” The force of my slap sent Lucy tumbling onto the floor in a messy heap. She held her cheek, glared up at me, and shrieked so hard her voice cracked. “Christian! How dare you lay a hand on me?!” Then, she shot a look at her childhood friend, James, who was standing nearby, and hissed, “Teach him a lesson! Make him realize who he’s talking to!!” Receiving his orders, James immediately kicked me hard in the stomach. Then, he and the fat guy pinned me to the floor, locking me down so I couldn’t move. James sneered, his voice dripping with condescension. “Do you know Jones Enterprises?” He ground the heel of his leather shoe hard into my hand. “That’s a top-tier company! Arthur Jones is my uncle!” “I’m doing you a favor by sleeping with Lucy. Instead of being grateful, you actually dare to cause trouble for her?” He pressed down even harder on my hand. “Say one more word, and I’ll make sure you disappear from New York tonight!” “Jones?!” That name sent a shockwave through my chest, and I almost laughed out loud. The same Arthur Jones who was practically begging me on his knees last month, trying to get into my good graces? Looking at James’s shameless face, I spat out a cold laugh. “Pfft! Arthur Jones? He might be a big deal to you, but to me, he isn’t even fit to carry my shoes!” Seeing how arrogant I was, James completely lost his mind. His eyes turned bloodshot, and he roared, “Motherfucker! You’re asking for death! Beat him to a pulp!!” The second the words left his mouth, a hail of fists and kicks rained down on me! “Alright! Don’t actually kill him. If you do, am I supposed to be a widow tomorrow?!” After what felt like forever, Lucy finally spoke up to stop them. Her voice was cold, completely devoid of emotion. She strolled over to where I was curled up on the ground and tapped my bloody head with the toe of her high heel. “Christian, if you know what’s good for you, you’ll behave.” “If you ever speak to my friends like that again, I’ll make sure you pack up your pathetic bones and get out of New York! The further, the better!” “Marry me? Maybe in your next life!”

With that, she turned around without a single backward glance, letting another man wrap his arm around her waist as they walked back into the VIP room. It was as if she had just swept away a piece of annoying trash. Watching her retreat, my heart felt like it was being pricked by a thousand needles. To make sure I wouldn’t cause any more trouble, James and his crew tied me up tightly. When the sky was just starting to turn gray, the door of the VIP room finally opened. Lucy walked out, surrounded by the guys. Her face was flushed unnaturally, and her steps were a bit unsteady. She frowned, looking disgustedly at the collar around my neck that they hadn’t taken off. She reached down, untied my ropes, and instinctively tried to touch my face. “Let’s go. If we hurry to the wedding venue now, we might still make it.” The next second, a suffocating wave of cologne mixed with another man’s scent invaded my nostrils! My stomach churned. Pure instinct took over, and I violently slapped her hand away. “Christian!” Lucy’s hand froze in mid-air. The impatience on her face instantly turned into sharp fury. “What the hell is your problem?!” I wiped the blood from the corner of my mouth and hissed through gritted teeth, “Lucy, the wedding is off.” Lucy’s pupils shrunk. “What did you say? Say that again?!” “I said, we are done!” I spat out every single word. Slap! A heavy blow landed on my face. She used all her strength. My ears rang, and blood seeped from my lip again. “Done?!” “I have tolerated you for so long, giving you the chance to climb into my family’s social circle! And you dare to say we’re done?” “Christian, who do you think you are?! You’re just a blue-collar contractor who got lucky. Without me, you’re absolutely nothing!” Looking at the woman in front of me and hearing her words, I felt nothing but bitterness. When I first started dating Lucy, her family was on the brink of bankruptcy. I was afraid she would feel insecure, so I hid my identity as the sole heir to the Franklin family fortune—the richest family in New York. Instead, I quietly funded her family from behind the scenes to help them rise again. Yes, the Fabian family was doing well now, but compared to my family, they were still peasants. Who would have thought that my good intentions would end up being trampled on like this? It was as hilarious as it was pathetic. While I was lost in thought, Lucy grabbed my collar and dragged me forward like a dying dog. “It seems you didn’t learn your lesson last night! James!” She turned and yelled. James and the fat guy strolled out of the next room, holding cigarettes, their faces wearing exhausted but cruel smirks after a night of indulgence. “This loser is acting tough. He wants to call off the wedding. Keep teaching him a lesson!” Lucy pointed at me, her eyes filled with pure malice. “Break him until he submits!” “You got it, babe. Easy!” James sneered, grabbing me by the hair and dragging me toward the pitch-black alley at the back of the club. The fat guy and another bald guy immediately stepped up, pinning my arms. “Take him to the back alley! It’s quieter there!” Lucy’s cold voice echoed from behind. The back alley of the nightclub was piled with garbage and rusty crates. They threw me onto the concrete floor like a sack of garbage. “Loser, I gave you a chance, but you just had to ask for death!” “I heard your construction site is rushing a deadline? You’re almost out of materials, right?” James squatted down with an ugly smirk, flicking a lighter right in front of my eyes. “Do you believe that with one phone call, I can make sure your newly ordered shipment of materials… turns to ashes before sunrise?” My chest tightened. That batch of materials wasn’t just about the project deadline; it affected the livelihoods of my entire construction crew! “If you touch my things, I swear…” I warned, my eyes bloodshot. “You swear what?” The fat guy laughed mockingly, pulling a thick iron pipe from the trash heap. He weighed the pipe in his hand, taking slow steps toward me, his eyes locking onto my right leg. “A dirty contractor trying to play the hero?!” “Looks like we really need to show you how things work. Broken arm or broken leg? You choose.” A chill ran down my spine. These psychopaths were actually capable of doing it. I gritted my teeth and roared, “Don’t you dare!” “Why wouldn’t I dare?” The fat guy spat, raising the iron pipe high and aiming straight for my knee.

Just as the iron pipe was about to swing down! “Stop!” A sharp voice rang out, and my assistant, Sean, rushed into the alley with seven or eight heavy-duty guards. Every single one of them was carrying crowbars and tactical batons! “Mr. Franklin!” Sean’s eyes turned red when he saw my bloody state. He let out a roar and charged. “You dare beat Mr. Franklin?! I’ll make you pay with your lives!!” James and his crew were startled by the sudden intrusion. “You piece of shit, you actually called backup?” James cursed, letting go of me and stepping up to Sean without a hint of fear. In fact, he looked excited. “Who the hell do you think you are?!” He grabbed Sean’s collar, spitting as he yelled, “Do you know who owns this turf? Arthur Jones!” “You dare to act tough here? One call from me, and you’ll all be buried underground by tomorrow morning!!” Sean and his men weren’t intimidated at all. They raised their batons, ready to swing. Right then, a sharp car horn echoed through the alley. The next second, a middle-aged man in a casual jacket and messy hair stepped out of a car at the entrance of the alley. Seeing the chaotic standoff, he frowned and yelled impatiently, “Who is causing trouble on my turf?!” Hearing the voice, James spun around. The moment he saw the middle-aged man’s face, his whole body shivered, and his cigarette dropped straight to the ground! In an instant, his face morphed into a groveling smile, and he practically crawled over. “Uncle Arthur! What are you doing in a dump like this?” He bowed so low his head almost touched the ground. “Hold on, let me guide you inside! I’ll get the cleanest VIP room ready for you!” Arthur Jones’s forehead creased with deep annoyance. He completely ignored James. His impatient gaze swept over the crowd and finally landed on my face. The moment he saw me. It was as if Arthur had been struck by lightning. His entire body shuddered violently. “Mr…. Mr. Franklin?!” His lips trembled so hard he couldn’t even control his limbs. He froze on the spot for a solid three seconds before snapping out of it. He stumbled forward, rushing to my side. “Mr. Franklin! You… how… how did you get hurt like this?!” Then, he stood up straight, his bloodshot eyes glaring furiously at the crowd. His gaze locked onto James, who was already frozen in shock. The next second, Arthur roared like a wild beast, “James! You absolute piece of trash!! What did you do to Mr. Franklin?!” “This guy wouldn’t behave, so my boys and I were just teaching him a lesson. Who knew he’d actually call backup!” James said, acting like it was no big deal. Hearing this, Arthur’s face turned from pale to completely purple. He delivered a brutal kick straight to James’s chest, sending him flying back and crashing heavily into the ground. “You brainless bastard!” Then, Arthur fell straight to his knees right in front of me, his voice shaking uncontrollably. “Mr. Franklin, it’s my fault. I failed to educate my nephew. I am so sorry you had to go through this.” “Please rest assured… I will make sure these bastards pay dearly!” James lay on the ground, his brain completely failing to process the situation. He yelled in frustration, “Uncle Arthur… what are you doing? Why are you being so polite to this loser?!” Arthur stood up, spun around, and kicked James in the ribs again. “Open your blind eyes! Mr. Franklin is the sole heir to the Franklin Empire—the richest family in New York!” “Who the hell do you think you are?! You dared to lay a hand on him?!”

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Late at night, our newly launched product crashed. We were losing millions of dollars every single second. As the Chief Technology Officer, I just sat there, calmly sipping my coffee. I did absolutely nothing. I watched those millions go down the drain in real-time. I watched our newly listed startup slide into bankruptcy, and my colleagues lose everything. In my past life, the moment the glitch appeared, I immediately rallied the dev team to patch the security loophole. Based on the source of the crash, I quickly drafted different emergency protocols. After securing the leak and saving most of the company’s assets, I finally relaxed, slumping exhausted into my office chair. But the next second, the police burst into the room and slammed handcuffs onto my wrists. “You’re under arrest for intentional sabotage of corporate property!” The employees and our CEO, Donald, screamed at me with pure rage. “We trusted you! How could you purposely code such a massive backdoor just to ruin us?!” “Why did you lock the servers and restrict our admin access when the crash happened? You blocked us from taking the product offline!” “Why did you ruin this company?!” It was only then that I realized the entire crash had been a setup. I had literally risked my life to save the company at the very first second. The servers had been hijacked by a hacker. I wasn’t the one who locked everyone out. I wanted to show the police my computer log history, but someone had already altered it. Even worse, my blood test came back positive for heavy hallucinogens. My closest colleague from the product team, Chloe, stepped forward with a video. “He’s been eyeing the company’s core assets for a long time. He coded this backdoor weeks ago.” My intern, Liam, cried out in faked betrayal. “He used this backdoor to siphon millions of corporate funds into his own offshore account!” While I was being held for investigation, several board members cornered me on the rooftop. In the chaos, they pushed me over the edge. After my death, those same board members who pushed me got promoted to major shareholders. Liam took over my position as CTO. And they claimed that I committed suicide out of guilt, jumping off the locked rooftop. A sudden shudder ran through my body. When I opened my eyes, I was back. Back to the night of the massive product crash.

“Ethan, have some coffee.” “The launch is in a few minutes. You need to stay sharp.” Hearing that familiar voice sent a chill straight down my spine. I looked up and saw Liam’s fake, smiling face. He handed me a cup of coffee with a warm grin. “Ethan, my girlfriend and I have a little emergency tonight. Can I take a three-hour leave? I promise I’ll be back right after.” “Please, man.” Liam knew I was a soft-hearted boss. He knew I’d say yes. In my past life, I agreed without a second thought. And that was the exact moment I stepped into his trap. Before the launch, I had tested the code hundreds of times. There was no way a glitch of that scale could happen naturally. The only person who could have done it was Liam—he was the only other person with access to the source code! How did he pull it off? Looking at my intern, a cold sweat broke out across my back. “Sure, go ahead,” I smiled, patting his shoulder. A dark glint flashed in my eyes. Since Liam was leaving, it was the perfect time for me to set up a little safeguard. A safeguard to protect myself. In my past life, I gave my blood and tears to this company, only to be framed and pushed off a roof. I wasn’t going to let them get away with it this time. “Ethan, drink up. I brewed it myself,” Liam urged, pushing the coffee cup closer to my hand. I picked up the cup and sniffed. The bitter aroma of roasted beans filled my nose, but underneath it, I detected something off. In my past life, on this exact day, I only had this cup of coffee and the takeout food sent by the product team. Yet, they found heavy traces of LSD in my system. “Woah, Liam is such a golden boy,” one of the junior devs teased. “You’re lucky to have an intern like him, Ethan!” Hearing the compliments, a smug smirk crept onto Liam’s face. I calmly set the coffee down. “Go on, don’t keep your girlfriend waiting.” “Come on, Ethan! Your favorite intern made it for you. At least take a sip!” the other devs chanted. My face went cold as I swept my eyes over them. Sensing the sudden shift in the room’s energy, a couple of the senior devs quickly ushered Liam out of the office. “Go, go, Liam. Ethan was nice enough to let you leave during a major launch. Don’t push it.” “Ethan, make sure to drink that coffee!” Liam called out one last time before the door shut. I didn’t reply. I felt sick to my stomach. A little while later, right before the launch. Chloe, the Product Manager in charge of the launch, walked in carrying a lunchbox. “We’re going live tonight. If anything goes wrong, we’re relying on you, Ethan!” She opened the box, presenting the food. “I made this myself. Can’t have our star CTO working on an empty stomach.” Looking at her sweet, caring face made me want to throw up. In my past life, I ate her food and felt incredibly drowsy. That drowsiness was the reason I couldn’t react in time when the system crashed.

I slid Liam’s coffee over to her. “I don’t have much to offer, but here, have this coffee to keep your energy up.” Without suspecting a thing, Chloe took the cup and downed it in a few gulps. “Make sure you finish all the food, Ethan!” She couldn’t stay in the dev department for long, so she waved and walked out. I watched her leave, my eyes dead and cold. “I’m not really hungry. You guys split the food,” I told the team. “Awesome! I’ve been dying to try Chloe’s cooking. Thank you, boss!” The devs cheered and dug in. Time ticked by. I looked at the corner of my screen. It was launch time. Right on cue, my phone vibrated. It was Chloe. “Ethan! We have a disaster! The system crashed right after going live!” “We are losing a million dollars a second!” I glanced around the office. The devs who had eaten Chloe’s food were all slumping over their desks, completely out of it. In my past life, I had eaten all the food and drank the coffee. Yet, I fought the heavy drugs in my system and forced myself to patch the system to save the company. And my reward? Handcuffs and a trip off the roof. I leaned back and spoke slowly. “I think you called the wrong number. Shouldn’t you report this to Donald first?” Chloe gasped, her voice dripping with disbelief. “Ethan, are you insane?! Report to Donald right now?!” “We are bleeding cash in real-time!” “If you don’t believe me, check the servers! People are exploiting the backdoor and draining our assets!” “The company is going to go under in minutes!” I let out a cold chuckle. “Didn’t Donald say we have to follow protocol? I’m waiting for the official ticket approval.” Seeing that I wasn’t moving, Chloe lost her mind. “Ethan! How can you be so selfish? I totally misjudged you!” “The entire company is dying, and you’re just sitting there—” I hung up on her. Seconds later, my phone rang again. It was Liam. I tapped accept. “Ethan! Everything is falling apart!” “There’s a massive exploit in the launch build!” “The company is losing a million dollars a second!” “I’m rushing back to the office right now. Please, do something to mitigate the damage first!” In the office, the devs were fast asleep, completely oblivious to the chaos. I held the phone away from my ear. “Oh. I’m waiting for the ticket to be approved.” Liam practically screamed through the speaker. “Ethan! A million dollars a second!” “Just lock down the servers first! Lock out the users so they can’t exploit it!” I stretched lazily.

Lock the servers? In my past life, I did exactly that. And because I locked the servers to stop the exploit, they accused me of restricting admin access and preventing the company from taking the product offline. I wasn’t falling for that twice. But I was curious: how did this exploit happen? I had checked the code repeatedly. How did Liam hide the backdoor? And who was the hacker who locked the servers in the past life? Only a few of us had root access. Who changed the core code? Before I could figure it out, Chloe burst into the tech department. “Ethan! Why are you just sitting there?! Why haven’t you told the team to patch the exploit?!” She was shaking with anger and anxiety. I leaned back in my chair. “Well, the official ticket hasn’t been approved yet. Why should I patch it?” My voice finally woke up the sleeping devs. One of them jumped up so fast he knocked his chair over. “Ethan! Why didn’t you wake us up?!” “You’re destroying the company!” “We’re losing a million dollars a second!” I calmly nodded. “Yes, it’s a major glitch. But management hasn’t sent me the official ticket to fix it.” The devs were furious. “Do you even know what responsibility means?!” “None of us are as fast as you! How can you just watch us burn?!” “Do you know how many people will lose their jobs and jump off buildings if this startup goes bankrupt?!” I shrugged and shut down my computer. “What does that have to do with me?” “At worst, I’ll just resign. No big deal.” Chloe’s face contorted. She whipped out her phone and played a video. In the video, I was sitting at my desk, complaining. “This company is a joke. Working until 3 AM every day is toxic. I’m going to make sure this launch ruins them. I don’t care if it goes bankrupt, as long as I get my revenge.” I saw right through it. It was a Deepfake. In my past life, right after I was arrested, Chloe leaked this exact video onto Snapchat and Instagram. I had begged the police to run a forensic analysis on it, but they claimed the video was authentic. I had to prove it was fake myself, because I had never said those words, nor had I ever thought them. No one wanted this company to succeed more than me—not even Donald.

This was the first company I joined after graduating from MIT. I built my career here step by step. Why would I want it to burn? But in my past life, before I could even explain, they dragged me to the roof and pushed me off. I never got the chance to clear my name. “I should have shown this video to HR weeks ago and had you fired,” Chloe cried out, though her eyes flashed with excitement. “I thought you were just venting.” “Do you know how many lives you’re ruining?!” “Do you know how many people won’t be able to pay their mortgages because of you?!” She played the victim perfectly, but her eyes betrayed her thrill. The devs surrounded my desk. Looking at their aggressive postures, it was clear that if I didn’t boot up my PC and fix the code, they were going to get physical. Losing a million dollars a second meant hundreds of millions were already gone. Forget their launch bonuses—their jobs were gone. “What are you waiting for?! Turn the computer on!” one dev screamed, his eyes bloodshot. “Ethan, I thought you were a mentor. You’re a monster! You don’t deserve to live!” They were shaking with rage. Chloe added fuel to the fire. “You’ve caused historic financial damage. You’re going to prison for life. If you want to reduce your sentence, you better fix it now!” I smiled slowly. “If you guys want it fixed so badly, why are you crowded around my desk?” “Does this company stop spinning without me?” Their faces froze. They realized none of them actually knew how to fix the core code without me.

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I played poor for three years, eating cheap cup ramen with Hale in a cramped studio apartment. He thought I was an orphan who grew up in foster care, and I never bothered to correct him. On the day of my prenatal checkup, he slid a gold-foiled invitation across the table. “Samantha and I are getting married at the end of the month.” “Windsor, I’m not a poor guy. I’m the heir to the Harman Medical Group.” “Her family has been partnering with mine for twenty years. My mother wants this marriage.” I stared at the gilded letters on the card, completely stunned. He continued in a flat, indifferent voice, “I’ll support the baby once it’s born. I’ll agree to any financial terms you want. But the wedding is happening.” I gently touched my belly. “Then what am I to you?” Hale was silent for a moment. “You are the most special person in my heart. But she is the daughter-in-law the Harman family needs.” “As long as you don’t cause trouble for her, my feelings for you won’t change.” Most special. So special that I didn’t even deserve a legal name. How ironic. “Hale, you think she’s a better match for you?” I let out a soft laugh. “Then tell me, do you know the last name of the largest investor in Harman Medical Group last quarter?”

“Whose last name?” Hale frowned. He looked at me as if I were a delusional patient talking in her sleep. “Windsor Higgins, there’s no need to make things up.” Whenever he called me by my full name, his voice carried a distinct, condescending edge. “Make things up?” “Aren’t you?” His tone was calm, almost brutally so. “Windsor, I know this is hard for you to accept. But the more you talk like this, the more it makes me feel…” He didn’t finish. His phone buzzed. Screen up, the caller ID read: Samantha Selby. He glanced at me, hesitated for half a second, and answered. “Yeah, they measured it… Right, no need to alter the main gown. The one with the long train… My mom said the ceremony needs to be perfect.” He turned his body away to talk, as if doing so would make me deaf. I looked down at my faded hoodie. It was a clearance item he bought on Amazon last year, two for twenty bucks. Back then, he still squeezed onto this twin bed with me, whispering that he’d buy me a mansion once he made money. It turned out his “future” never included me. He hung up. He pushed the invitation a little closer to me. “The Peninsula Hotel, the twenty-eighth. Everything is set. If you have financial demands, make them now. Don’t make a—” “Scene?” I finished his sentence. “Hale, it’s been three years. Have I ever made a scene?” He pursed his lips, silent. The doorbell rang. His face tightened. He clearly didn’t expect anyone at this hour. The moment the door opened, a wave of expensive woody perfume drifted in. Samantha stood in the hallway. “Hale, I just finished my lab and was passing by. My mom made some soup—” She stopped. She saw me. More specifically, she saw my belly. The air froze for about five seconds. She was the first to break the silence. She smiled at me and extended her hand. “Hi, I’m Samantha.” Hale stood beside her, adopting a practiced, sophisticated posture I had never seen before. “This is Windsor. My… friend.” Friend. I looked down at my swelling abdomen and suddenly found it incredibly hilarious. Samantha walked in and placed the insulated bag on the table. Her eyes swept across the tiny, 200-square-foot room. “You’re pregnant? How many months?” she asked, her tone dripping with concern. “Have you been getting your anatomy scans on time? You need to watch out for gestational diabetes in the second trimester. My father is an OB/GYN specialist.” She was a PhD candidate in medicine, the daughter of Hale’s mentor, Dr. Selby. “Five months.” “Five months? You have to be extra careful.” She turned to Hale, her voice holding a hint of gentle scolding. “Why didn’t you mention this? I could have got her an appointment with a top specialist.” A look appeared on Hale’s face—one I had never seen in our three years together. It was gratitude mixed with guilt, like a little boy who had done something wrong but was readily forgiven. “No need,” I said. She smiled and didn’t push. Hale went to the bathroom to take another call. The moment the door closed, Samantha’s smile didn’t fade, but it turned ice-cold. “Windsor, right? Hale told me about your situation.” She unscrewed the thermos, and the rich aroma of the soup filled the room. “Don’t be nervous. I’m not here to throw you out.” “Honestly, I understand you. No family, pregnant, living in a place like this… Anyone in your shoes would want to grab onto an opportunity.” She used the word opportunity. I said nothing. “But you have to understand Hale, too.” Her pace was slow and steady, like a therapist soothing a fragile patient. “The Harman family isn’t some ordinary family. What he’s offering you is already his utmost kindness.” “A legal marriage… demanding that will only hurt you.” The sound of running water continued in the bathroom. She took a sleek credit card from her designer bag, placed it on the table, and tapped it toward me. “A hundred thousand dollars. Hale asked me to give this to you. Use it to settle down after the baby is born.” She paused, her manicured finger tapping the plastic card twice. “If you’re willing to quietly disappear before the wedding, I’ll personally add another hundred thousand. Two hundred thousand. It’s a lot of money.” The water stopped. She withdrew her hand, and her perfect, calculated smile snapped back into place. “Hale, I saw the blueprint for that one-bedroom apartment on the East Side. It faces north, so it gets barely any sunlight.” “I’ll have my dad vacate one of his luxury apartments. It gets great southern exposure. A pregnant woman needs her vitamin D.” Hale hesitated. Samantha gently pressed his arm. “She’s carrying your child. She deserves a decent place.” I stood up and grabbed my coat. He asked, “Where are you going?” “Out for a walk.” Samantha called out behind me, “It’s chilly outside. Bundle up, don’t let the baby catch a cold.” I opened the door and paused, looking back. “Miss Selby, you sure love worrying about other people.” “But you can’t even tell who this soup was actually made for. Out of the three people in this room, I’m the only one who hasn’t eaten dinner.” Her smile didn’t break, but her fingers tightened around the thermos. As the door clicked shut, I heard Hale’s muffled voice through the wood. “What does she mean by that?” Samantha replied sweetly, “Oh, nothing. Pregnant women are just emotionally unstable. It’s totally normal.”

“I spent the entire winter knitting this scarf.” I stared at the charcoal grey scarf Hale was stuffing into his duffel bag. His hands paused. “Samantha gets terribly cold hands and feet in the winter, so I… Anyway, you’ve never been sensitive to the cold.” I wasn’t sensitive to the cold. Only because for the past three winters, he had always pointed the only cheap space heater in our room toward me. He had forgotten. On moving day, he drove a black sedan instead of his usual beat-up electric scooter. I glanced at the emblem but said nothing. Three years. Even the scooter was part of his act. The three cardboard boxes weren’t heavy. He moved them in one trip. The new apartment was on the East Side, a property under Dr. Selby’s name. A spacious one-bedroom with southern exposure. It was three times larger than our studio, with a view of the distant hills. “The interior is a bit simple,” Hale said, opening the window to check the draft. “Let me know if you need anything.” I didn’t answer. I knelt to unpack. First box: clothes, toiletries, a stack of prenatal records. Second box: a few books, an old desk lamp, the mug I had used for two years. The third box was half empty. I searched through it once, then twice. “Where is the photo?” He was mounting the curtain rod, his back to me. “Which one?” “The Polaroid. The one we took on the bridge on your birthday. I kept it in the second drawer of the nightstand.” His movements stiffened. He didn’t turn around. “I wasn’t paying attention when I was tossing out the old junk. Must have thrown it away.” He used the word junk. I crouched before the half-empty box, suddenly losing all desire to keep searching. He finished mounting the rod and brushed the dust off his hands. “The fridge is stocked. Samantha got some groceries for you. Stop eating ramen.” “She got them?” “She volunteered. Windsor, she genuinely wants to be good to you.” After he left, I opened the fridge. Chicken breast, broccoli, avocados, low-fat milk, all neatly organized. Next to them was a sticky note in neat, rounded handwriting: Daily intake for second trimester: 75-100g protein, 200mg DHA, keep taking folic acid. Avoid spicy and greasy food. — Samantha Everything was meticulously planned, but there wasn’t a single thing in that fridge that I actually liked to eat. Samantha showed up that afternoon. She carried two bags—one filled with baby clothes, the other with prenatal vitamins. The baby clothes were neatly folded, but they were visibly worn and washed. “These are hand-me-downs from my friend’s baby. The fabric is broken-in and safe.” “The baby market nowadays is sketchy. New clothes have a high risk of residual chemicals. These washed ones are actually much safer—don’t you think?” She shook out a pilled onesie in front of me, gesturing with it. “Thank you, but I don’t need them.” “Oh, don’t be polite.” She set the clothes down, her eyes falling on the coffee table. “What’s this?” It was my pregnancy journal. Since the day I found out, I had written a few lines every day, dedicated to the baby. She flipped open a page and read aloud. “‘Today, Daddy bought you your very first pair of socks. They’re white, only half the size of my palm. He said you’ll definitely be a fast runner…’” “Stop reading,” I said, reaching for it. She didn’t let go. Her fingers pressed hard against the words as she looked up at me, her eyes filled with pity. “Windsor, you write beautifully.” “But have you ever thought about what this child will feel when they grow up? When they read this journal and realize who their mother is, and who their father’s actual wife is… What will they think?” She handed the journal back. “Just a random thought, of course. Don’t take it to heart. A pregnant woman needs to keep her stress levels down.” Before leaving, she raided my kitchen, packing all the snacks I had hidden on top of the cabinet into her bag. “These contain too many trans fats. It affects the baby’s neural development. Didn’t your OB tell you that?” Her tone carried that same condescending concern, like a responsible doctor disciplining an ignorant patient. The kitchen felt half-empty after the door closed. I sat in the living room and opened the journal to the last page. I had written yesterday: Baby, Daddy said he’s getting married soon, but not to Mommy. Don’t be scared. Mommy will always be here. I ripped the page out, crumpled it into a ball, and clenched it tightly in my fist. That night, Hale sent a Snapchat message: Samantha said you rejected the baby clothes she brought? I replied: I don’t need someone else’s trash. He snapped back quickly: Suit yourself. Five minutes later, another message arrived. It was a photo. He and Samantha were dining at a high-end restaurant, bathed in warm light. She was leaning against his shoulder. Caption: Taking wedding photos at the end of the month. Stay off my social media feeds. I shoved my phone under the pillow. There was a water stain on the ceiling, shaped like a butterfly. I stared at it for a long time. I wanted to dial a number I hadn’t called in three years. My finger hovered over the screen, but in the end, I locked the phone. The phone vibrated again. From Hale: I can’t make it to your checkup tomorrow. Samantha’s dad has a thesis defense, and I need to be there. I replied: Understood.

“So you’re the Windsor girl?” A woman in a sharp black designer suit stood at my door. She was impeccably preserved, her chin tilted upward as her eyes swept from my slippers all the way to my belly. Hale’s mother, Victoria Harman. Samantha stood behind her, holding a bouquet of lilies, offering me her signature sweet smile. Victoria didn’t wait for an invitation. She walked right past me. Slapping her leather Chanel bag onto the dining table, she surveyed the one-bedroom apartment, her lips curling downward. “This is the best apartment Dr. Selby could offer?” “It’s not bad, Victoria. It gets plenty of sun—” Samantha started. Victoria raised a hand to cut her off. “Samantha, you are far too kind. Some people simply don’t deserve your generosity.” She pulled out a chair and sat down, retrieving a manila folder from her bag. She pulled out a few printed sheets. “Windsor Higgins. Female, twenty-six. Admitted to the Sky Care Orphanage at age six.” “Discharged at eighteen. High school graduate.” “Worked as a cashier, waitress, retail associate, and barista. Zero assets under her name.” She spoke slowly, like an HR executive reviewing a failing resume. “This is Hale’s so-called ‘friend’?” I stood opposite her, my hands hanging loosely at my sides. This background check was indeed thorough. Too bad they had only dug up the fake identity I had manufactured three years ago. She threw the file onto the table and tapped her finger on the paper. “Windsor, I won’t make this difficult for you. The Harman family will raise the child.” “Sign this agreement. Relinquish your parental rights, and I’ll give you a sum of money to leave this city.” Samantha poured a glass of water, placed it in front of Victoria, and turned to me with soft eyes. “Windsor, Victoria is doing this for your own good. Raising a child alone is so hard. With the Harmans—” “I have no intention of giving my child to anyone.” My voice was calmer than I expected. Victoria’s expression didn’t waver. She had clearly anticipated my refusal. “You think you have a choice?” She stood up, taking a step toward me. “This apartment belongs to the Selby family. Hale has already terminated the lease on your old studio.” “You have absolutely nothing in this city. A girl from an orphanage… how do you plan to support a baby?” “I said, I’m not signing.” “Windsor, don’t overplay your hand.” Her voice dropped an octave, turning menacing. “Hale offering you two hundred thousand is the absolute limit of my patience.” “Do you honestly think he cares about you? Last week, he bought a thirty-million-dollar estate in the Hamptons. That is his wedding gift to Samantha.” My fingers curled into my palms. Thirty million dollars. During those three years of eating instant ramen and riding crowded buses with me, thirty million dollars was apparently just a casual wedding gift to him. Samantha stepped forward, gently wrapping her arm around Victoria’s. “Don’t worry, Victoria. It’s Windsor’s first time being a mother. It’s normal for her to be emotional.” She turned back to me, her voice soft and coaxing. “Windsor, think about it rationally.” “If the baby stays with the Harmans, she’ll go to the best private schools and have the best resources. Isn’t that better than staying with you?” “I know it hurts your motherly instincts, but you have to think about what’s best for the baby—” “Enough,” I said, staring directly into her eyes. “Don’t you get tired of this, Samantha? Every word you say sounds like a cheap therapy session.” Her smile faltered for a fraction of a second before recovering. Victoria picked up the agreement and a pen, pushing them toward me. “Sign it, and we can keep things civilized. If you don’t—” She glanced cold-bloodedly at my stomach. “I have a hundred ways to make you sign.” I took a step back. She lunged forward, grabbing my wrist with surprising force for a wealthy, middle-aged woman. “Let go of me—” My body was violently thrown backward. My spine collided heavily with the doorframe, and a sharp, stabbing pain shot through my lower abdomen. I doubled over, clutching my belly. Victoria let go, stepping back with an indifferent expression. Samantha murmured beside her, “Maybe we should let her rest? The impact might cause uterine contractions. That wouldn’t be good.” When she said wouldn’t be good, her tone was devoid of any real empathy. She was analyzing me like a specimen in a lab, not a living person writhing in agony. I looked down. A dark stain was blooming through my pants. Neither of them moved to help. Victoria calmly picked up the pen and the papers, placing them right in front of me on the floor. Samantha knelt down, her voice incredibly gentle. “Windsor, sign this first, and I’ll take you to the hospital right away, okay? I’ll handle Hale.” I forced myself to stand, gripping the doorframe to keep from collapsing. My hand slipped into my pocket and grabbed my phone. I didn’t call Hale. I dialed the number I hadn’t touched in three years. It rang once before a frantic voice picked up. “Miss Higgins? You—” I heard a sharp intake of breath on the other end. “Audit all transaction records between the Harman Medical Group and the Selby family. I want the results in three days.” The line went silent for a second, and then the voice turned instantly respectful. “Yes, ma’am. Mr. Higgins has been looking for you everywhere. He—” I hung up. Victoria and Samantha stared at me, their faces painted with identical confusion. I picked up the agreement from the floor, ripped it straight down the middle, and let the torn sheets flutter down to their expensive shoes. “Tell Hale… this child’s last name is Higgins.”

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Five years into our marriage, Brain could have ripped out his heart and handed it to me, but there was one taboo he would never allow. I could not wear my favorite white dress in front of him. At first, I did not believe in that superstition and wore one twice. The first time, he made me strip naked and kneel in the courtyard as punishment. The second time, he tore my white dress to shreds with his own hands and had someone throw me into the water. After I was rescued, I ran a high fever, and when I woke up, I furiously demanded a divorce. Brain held me with guilt written all over his face and apologized in a trembling voice: “I’m sorry, I thought of my sister who passed away…” “Aria, promise me you won’t wear white dresses again, okay?” Only then did I learn that Brain’s younger sister had been wearing a white dress when she was pinned down in an alley, violated, and tortured to death. From then on, the color white became a taboo in his eyes. I never dared wear white again, afraid that Brain would be triggered by the sight. But then, on our wedding anniversary, I went to attend a dinner and was hit by a girl’s car until I passed out. In my hazy consciousness, I saw Brain run over in panic, but he did not even look at me. He hugged the frightened girl and comforted her again and again. That girl made a scene about jumping off the rooftop, her skirt swaying like a pure white dove. In the end, Brain kissed her until her legs went weak, then lifted her by the waist and carried her into the hotel. At that moment, I knew we were completely over.

Fortunately, the car accident was not serious. My head had only slammed hard against the car door, leaving me with a mild concussion. When I woke up, I was already in the hospital. “Five minutes. I want all the information on that girl.” I handed the bodyguard the photo I had taken with my phone before fainting. He pushed up his sunglasses, nodded, and turned to leave. Very soon. The information was sent to my phone. That girl was named Jessica. What she loved wearing most was a white dress, and the bodyguard had also contacted a private detective, who took over a hundred intimate photos of her and Brain. “According to the investigation, Mr. Wilson and this girl met at a university.” “Half a year ago, Mr. Wilson went to the university for a charity event, exchanged contact information with this girl named Jessica, and afterward, Mr. Wilson bought her a single apartment near the school.” “That is also where they… often meet for dates.” The bodyguard lifted his eyes and glanced at me. “And their fixed date time is every Saturday.” I silently looked at the photos one by one. A bitter smile appeared on my face. No wonder ever since half a year ago, Brain, who had never taken the initiative to work overtime, had stopped coming home on Saturdays. His explanation was that the company had launched a new project. It required short business trips. And every time that night came, he never replied to any of my messages. So it turned out he had another home outside. When Brain came back, his eyes were full of exhaustion, but he smiled and handed me a gift box. “Aria, something urgent came up at the company last night and delayed me, so I didn’t make it to that restaurant. You must have waited a long time, right?” “This is the gift I brought you. I should have given it to you yesterday.” Brain opened it on his own to show me, but he did not notice my expression. “It’s fine. I didn’t go to that restaurant either.” Because on the way there, I got into a car accident. And the person who caused the accident was his little girl, Jessica. When the accident happened, that little girl called him in panic, and Brain only focused on comforting her, never once looking up. If he had looked just once, he would have known. The person she hit was the wife he had been about to meet. When Brain heard that I also had not gone to that restaurant, he let out a sigh of relief. “Good thing you didn’t go, and you didn’t wait there for nothing.” “How about this? I have time the day after tomorrow, so we can celebrate our wedding anniversary again…” Before he could finish speaking, the words got stuck in his throat, and his face turned deathly pale the next second. I placed that stack of intimate photos in front of him. “Brain, explain this.” “What exactly is going on with this girl?” Brain’s expression stiffened. He stared hard at the photos for a long time, and when he reacted, his gaze grew somewhat panicked. “Amy, you investigated me?” Seeing the veins bulging on the back of his hand, I could not help but sneer. “There had to be something there for me to investigate.” If I had not gotten into a car accident yesterday and personally watched him carry another girl right under my nose, I never would have believed that Brain, who loved me like his life depended on it, could actually cheat on me. “Care to explain?” I smiled without warmth. “If you’re too lazy to make excuses, then let’s just divorce.” When he saw me throw out the divorce agreement, Brain’s face changed instantly. “Aria, don’t overthink it.” “These photos are all misunderstandings.” I listened in silence as Brain explained with a frown, without blushing or his heart skipping a beat: “I know you must be very curious why I’m close to her, and I can tell you the answer—”

“Aria, Lili is the same age as my sister. I only see her as a younger sister.” Brain’s younger sister was named Lily. Even their names sounded alike. If I had not seen Brain kiss her with my own eyes, I might really have believed him. “Brain, do you think I’m stupid?” I threw the photo of them kissing into his face. “You see her as a younger sister?” “The kind you can sleep with?” When those photos appeared before me one after another, I did not get angry, nor did I cry or make a scene. Brain had carried that girl by the waist into a hotel, and what would happen next was already obvious. I had already guessed the result and just wanted to see how Brain would explain it. “Aria…” Brain’s voice was heavy with pain and mixed with unbearable emotion. “I admit that Lili does have feelings for me, but I never accepted them, and I didn’t have the heart to ruin a young girl’s feelings.” “You know how terribly my sister died back then.” “I only see her as a younger sister and wanted to make up for things through her.” “In this photo, she was the one who kissed me. I didn’t refuse…” “Aria, I promise there won’t be a next time.” He knelt on one knee before me, his face full of devotion. In the five years after our marriage, Brain had rarely made this kind of mistake. He had always had strong boundaries and rejected any girl who tried to get close. But now he had not only fallen. He was also trying every possible way to cover for himself. I smiled. “Fine. Since nothing is going on between you two, take back the apartment she lives in, and I’ll pretend nothing ever happened between you.” I stared into Brain’s eyes. But he frowned. “No.” “Lili doesn’t get along with her roommates and has already been isolated by her classmates. If I kick her out, she’ll have nowhere to live.” I laughed. The scene from the car accident that night suddenly appeared before my eyes. She had clearly hit me while driving illegally, yet she acted like the victim and made a scene about jumping off a building. “Brain, I hit her because I was careless. I don’t want to go to jail. Can you settle it for me?” She cried pitifully as she begged Brain. “And that woman was still out driving in the middle of the night, so she’s responsible too.” In the end, Brain softened and took her to the hotel. And I had been knocked unconscious. If a kind passerby had not called an ambulance, I had no idea how long I would have been lying unconscious on the road. “Fine. Since I gave you a chance and you didn’t cherish it—” I threw out a lawsuit document. “Then don’t blame me for suing Jessica for hit-and-run.” Brain suddenly raised his head, and his face changed at once. “What hit-and-run?” Brain practically snatched the document from my hand. When he raised his head again, his eyes held a few shades of unreadable darkness. “The person who was hit that night was you?” He did not worry about my injuries, nor did he worry about how things ended for me that day. Instead, he closed his eyes and continued to plead for her. “Aria, let her go.” “She’s young and immature. That day, she had argued with me, so she drove illegally.” “And she’s planning to take the civil service exam in the future. She can’t go to jail, and she especially can’t have a criminal record.” I had already asked around, and that little girl was stubborn, refusing to accept Brain’s money and refusing to be his kept woman. Instead, she was focused on taking the civil service exam and building a career through her own ability, which made Brain admire her even more. I smiled without warmth, but my eyes carried a trace of coldness. “And if I say no?” “Brain, you should know what happens in the end to people who offend me.” “I insist on making her pay the price.” Brain lifted his eyes and glanced at me, then tore the document in his hand to pieces the next second. “Aria, don’t forget that I was the one who backed you up before.” “But this time—” “As long as I’m here, no one will dare take your case.” He told me to think it over carefully, then turned and went back to the study. The moment the door slammed shut, my heart went completely cold. Sure enough, with Brain stepping in, not a single lawyer dared to take my case. Even those top lawyers all tried to persuade me. “Mrs. Wilson, you know your husband’s power. It’s only a small hit-and-run. If he truly wants to protect someone, no one else can gain the upper hand.” “That’s right, Miss Brook. Everyone has known for years that you are President Wilson’s treasure. You get whatever you want, so what else are you dissatisfied with?” My grip on the teacup gradually tightened. There was still a cold smile on my face. So everyone thought that all these years, I had been a dodder flower living off Brain. But this time, I was afraid they were going to be disappointed. I made a call overseas. “Are you busy?” “I ran into some trouble and need you to come back to the country. Everyone on Wall Street says that as long as you handle a case, there’s no case you can’t win. Come help me out.” A man’s low laugh came from the other end. “Amy, you finally remembered that someone like me exists.” “Since you’ve opened your noble mouth, no matter how busy I am, I have to skip work and rush back to uphold justice for you.” After hanging up, my gaze landed on the little girl who had suddenly appeared not far away. She held a bouquet of flowers in her arms, and when she lifted her head, her gaze was proud. That white dress swayed in the wind. She looked exactly like me when I was eighteen.

Back then, I loved white dresses most, but because of Brain’s trauma, I gave away every white dress I owned. But why did this little girl get to wear a white dress and show off in front of me? She looked very familiar with Spring Mountain Manor. As soon as she entered, she smiled. “Butler, is Brain home? I’m here to bring him flowers…” The butler’s face instantly filled with terror, and he hurriedly invited her into a corner. “Miss White, why are you here at this time? Madam is home. If Madam sees…” Jessica was not afraid at all, and instead lifted her chin proudly. “So what?” “Brain has been sick of her for a long time, and with Brain protecting me, that jealous woman can only get angry. What can she do to me?” “Besides, Brain has already said that I can treat this place as my own home.” Her words reached my ears. I laughed. I had originally wanted to turn a blind eye, but unexpectedly, Jessica had come right to my door. “You’re Amy?” I was sitting on the swing in the pavilion and drinking tea when the little girl’s questioning voice came from behind me. I narrowed my eyes and looked her over. “So you’re that unwanted resentful wife. Brain stopped liking you long ago, yet you’re still clinging to the position of rich wife. Instead of doing anything else, why don’t you hurry up and give up your spot?” Jessica raised her hand and tugged her collar down, revealing the bright red, glaring hickey on her neck. “See that?” She looked proud. “The person Brain loves is me. He loves me in a white dress, and he loves whispering sweet words on my body.” “Even this Spring Mountain Manor—when you weren’t home, he brought me here many times.” “And that swing you’re sitting on—” “Here, we even tried out new positions.” Jessica looked at me with a face full of disdain and smugness. “But what about you, Miss Brook?” “I heard that in front of him, you can’t even wear a white dress, right?” Jessica covered her mouth and laughed softly, her eyes full of mockery. I looked at her in silence, and my gaze slowly shifted to the pure white dress she was wearing. “The white dress is quite pretty.” Before Jessica had time to feel smug, I directly waved my hand. “Strip her clothes off.” “Throw her into the lake.” The bodyguards behind me immediately moved out with expressionless faces. They grabbed Jessica and started roughly taking action. Jessica clearly had not expected me to do this. After her shock, she panicked and struggled desperately. “Amy, what are you doing?” “If you dare touch me, Brain won’t let you off!” I picked at my ear. “So noisy. Gag her mouth.” The white dress that had been taken off was immediately stuffed into Jessica’s mouth. The clothes left on her body could no longer cover her, and she looked terrified, panicked, and utterly miserable. The huge artificial lake was right in front of us. The arrogance in Jessica’s eyes faded away and turned into panic and pleading. But only muffled whimpers came from her mouth. “Throw her in.” When Brain rushed over, he happened to see this scene, and his face instantly darkened. “Amy!” “What are you doing? Let her go!” I turned the pinky ring on my finger. “I’m helping you punish someone who doesn’t know better.” Brain’s face was gloomy, and the veins on his forehead bulged. But I raised my head and smiled like a blooming flower. “Brain, don’t you hate women wearing white dresses in front of you the most? This girl doesn’t know better, so I’m helping you teach her a proper lesson.”

“What, shouldn’t you be happy? Why do you look so unhappy?” Brain gritted his teeth and forced out a few words. “Amy, you don’t have to do this.” “If you hate me, if you have any dissatisfaction, you can come at me. Let Lili go.” During Jessica’s struggle, she spat out the thing stuffed in her mouth. She cried and sobbed as she begged the man for help. “Brain, save me! This crazy woman Amy wants to kill me…” Brain clenched his fists, but his face showed restraint. “Aria, I don’t want this to get too ugly, and don’t make me say it a second time.” My face also turned cold, and I smashed the teacup in my hand hard against his forehead. Brain did not dodge at all and let his forehead be split open and bleed, without even blinking. “Aria, you can vent however you want. Let Lili go.” I sneered and slapped him again. “Aren’t you the one who can’t stand seeing girls in white dresses the most? Have you forgotten that when I wore a white dress back then, you had someone strip me naked and throw me into the lake, and you said that was how it should be done?” “You said a lesson had to be taught.” Brain’s gaze flickered for a moment, and he lowered his head with a bit more guilt. “I’m sorry…” “I don’t need an apology.” During those years after our marriage, every time I saw Brain pass a mall, he would stare at white dresses in a daze, his eyes gentle and lingering. So on my birthday, I wore a pure white dress and appeared before him for the first time. I thought he would like it, but I never expected him to fly into a rage. “Who told you to dress like that?” I did not understand and thought something about my outfit was inappropriate. But I never expected that the next second, he would make me strip naked and kneel in the courtyard as punishment. My eyes immediately reddened. “Brain, you can’t treat me like this!” But his attitude remained forceful. He made me kneel on the cold floor. He even made those bodyguards watch me, saying that I needed to be taught a lesson. I bit my lip until blood spread through my mouth, and I would never forget the humiliation of that moment. The second time, I thought Brain was not home, so I put on my favorite white dress in front of the mirror. But Brain came back halfway through and saw me dressed all in white. Ignoring my pleas, he tore my dress apart with his own hands and threw me into the lake. That time, I almost choked to death. Even the child in my belly was miscarried because of it. But Brain said coldly, “If you want to blame something, blame that white dress you’re wearing. You deserved to be taught a lesson.” As my memories returned, I looked at the miserable Jessica before me, and it was as if I were looking at the bullied me from back then. “Brain, what did you say back then? Have you forgotten?” “Why is it different now that it’s her?” I turned to look at the bodyguards. “What are you standing there for? Continue.” The torment Brain had inflicted on me, Jessica had to taste it too. “Brain, I can’t hold on anymore! Save me!” She grabbed at the bodyguard with one hand, and her other foot pressed hard against the edge of the lake as Jessica was about to be pushed into the water. Brain’s face turned extremely gloomy. “Amy, make them stop right now!” “Lili is just a simple young girl. How did she offend you? I’ll apologize on her behalf.” “Let her go!” But as soon as the words fell, Jessica was thrown into the lake. Her small face turned deathly pale, and she flailed desperately. “Brain, save me—” The veins on Brain’s forehead bulged, and he subconsciously wanted to rush over and stop them. But I blocked his path. “Brain.” I looked at him. “As long as you come with me now, I can pretend nothing happened.” “Jessica won’t be in any danger…” But before I could finish speaking, Brain did not even hesitate and practically sprinted out. He had always been a clean freak and hated his clothes getting wet more than anything. But now, he jumped straight into the lake and reached out to pull Jessica up. “Lili, don’t be scared. I’m here to save you…” What a pity about that expensive suit and those leather shoes. I watched Brain hold Jessica tightly in the lake with a helpless look on his face. He held her waist. He gave her CPR. That look in his eyes, as if he feared losing the love of his life, made my heart go cold inch by inch. I laughed at myself. “Let’s go.” When I left, I directly instructed the servants. “Take down this swing.” The servant looked confused and asked me in disbelief. “Why take it down, Madam? Isn’t this your favorite swing?” “And President Wilson made it for you with his own hands during the year you got married…” I sneered. I remembered the scene of Jessica showing off in front of me, saying Brain had brought her to try new positions on the swing. “I don’t want things that have been dirtied.” I had the lawyer draft the divorce agreement overnight and prepared to have Brain sign it the next day. But before I could even bring up divorce, Brain’s revenge came first. When I opened my eyes and woke up, my hands and feet were bound, and I had been brought onto a drop tower ride. My face turned pale, and even the color drained from my lips. “Brain…” “Aria, I know that what you fear most in this life is extreme rides, but I insist on letting you taste what it feels like to be forced into something you don’t like.” “This is the price you are destined to pay for bullying Lili.” Brain placed a kiss on the back of my hand. His voice was as gentle as a lover whispering sweet nothings. But the words he said were so cold. “I have to let you know that Lili is not someone you can bully whenever you want.” Jessica hid behind Brain and revealed a smug smile. “Don’t worry, Miss Brook. Your life won’t be in danger. I already prepared all the safety measures and safety rope for you.” He turned and left with Jessica. But after walking a few steps, Jessica turned back and gave me a provocative smile. Following her gaze, I looked at the safety rope and broke out in a cold sweat. Brain did not know that the rope had already been cut. Jessica wanted me dead.

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Ethan’s childhood dream was to be a hero. When I was younger, I was a victim of severe domestic abuse by my father, Frank. I was molested by a relative, fell into a deep depression, and tried to end my life multiple times. Ethan was the one who saved me. He found me a place to live. He confiscated my box cutters, threw away my bottles of sleeping pills, and never left me alone for too long. “I will always be with you, Iris,” he had whispered. “From now on, your tears go down, but you only go up.” When we grew up, we got together. But his savior complex never went away. When his new secretary, Vivian, faced office bullying, he was the first to stand up for her. When Vivian was harassed and became too terrified to walk home in the dark, he personally drove her to and from work every single day. When Vivian’s apartment was broken into and she was too traumatized to sleep alone, he stayed at her place all night, sleeping on her couch to keep her company. Gradually, He stopped caring if there were sharp objects around me. He stopped caring if I cried myself to sleep. He didn’t even care anymore when my abusive father, Frank, showed up at my door with a knife, demanding money. He only left me with one cold sentence. “Can’t you just be grateful? Vivian has it way worse than you. I need to look after her first.” But pain is not a competition. It shouldn’t be measured or compared. I wasn’t ungrateful. I just wanted a heart that chose me over everyone else. That was all. Since he couldn’t give me that, it was time for me to pack up and find my own way.

The night Ethan decided to sleep over at Vivian’s place yet again, I broke. I rushed forward and blocked the doorway with my arms spread wide. “Ethan.” I looked up at him, my voice trembling. “Are you her boyfriend, or mine?” The eyes that used to look at me with nothing but warmth were now filled with nothing but cold detachment. “Iris, I’m just trying to be an umbrella for everyone caught in the rain. Can’t you be a little more generous?” I froze. He continued without a hint of guilt. “A man is always a boy at heart. I’m just living out my childhood dream of saving people. You should be supporting me.” “Iris, don’t be so selfish. I can’t be your exclusive savior.” Of course. His heroism had to be distributed equally to every needy soul in the world. Back in high school, If anyone was bullied, he was the first to fight back. If anyone couldn’t afford lunch, he would share his allowance. And when I was beaten by my father, hiding in a dark alley covered in bruises, He was the one who found me and gently wiped away my blood. I didn’t want to go back to that house of horrors. So, he took me in. We relied on each other. We loved each other. When the rumors of my molestation spread and everyone labeled me as “damaged goods,” He was the one who held me and said, “Iris, they are the ones in the wrong, not you. To me, you are an angel.” But love and hate often stem from the exact same source. I fell in love with him because he was a hero. And now, I was losing my mind because he wanted to be everyone else’s hero too. Pulling myself back to reality, I grabbed his sleeve tightly, begging. “Ethan, please don’t go tonight… please.” I stared into his eyes, desperately searching for a single trace of pity or love. There was nothing. He gently but firmly pried my hand away from his sleeve. His tone was brutally calm. “I have to. Vivian is sick. If I don’t go take care of her, something terrible might happen.” Tears blurred my vision. I choked out, “But I’m sick too.” “Ethan, Frank said he’s coming to find me soon. I’m terrified…” Ethan clicked his tongue impatiently. “I’ve told you a hundred times, the security in this apartment complex is top-tier. He can’t get in.” Realizing his tone was too harsh, He softened his voice, patted my shoulder, and said seriously, “Iris, stop identifying so hard as a ‘victim.’” “Vivian studied psychology. She told me that the more I coddle you, the more you’ll think you’re broken. It’s time for you to learn to process your own emotions.”

A cold shiver ran down my spine. I didn’t have the strength to block him anymore. Slowly, my arms dropped to my sides. Ethan finally smiled. He nodded in approval. “That’s my girl. That’s the supportive girlfriend I love.” “I’ll bring you some cake when I get back tomorrow morning.” With that, He turned and left without a second look. The door clicked shut. Only a suffocating, pitch-black silence remained in the apartment. It felt like I was back in that dark alley years ago. The horrifying memories rushed back. Anxiety clawed its way through my chest. Right then, A loud, violent knocking banged on the door. *Thud! Thud! Thud!* I crept up and looked through the peephole. I met the bloodshot, drunken eyes of a man grinning wickedly. “Open the door, bitch! Your dad sold you to me to pay off his debt. You’re mine sooner or later!” “Just you wait!” The childhood terror of being violated paralyzed me. I shook violently. My instinct was to dial Ethan’s number. But his cold words echoed in my head. *“You need to learn to process your own emotions. Stop relying on me for everything.”* Slowly, I lowered my phone. I bit my lip so hard it bled, refusing to make a single sound. I didn’t sleep a wink that night. When the morning light filtered through the curtains, I dragged my exhausted body with heavy dark circles under my eyes into the living room, wanting to pour a glass of warm water to calm my racing heart. But the moment I looked up, I froze. A strange woman was sitting on my couch. She wore a short white skirt and had a bright, radiant smile. She stood up and greeted me warmly. “Hi, you must be Iris. I’m Vivian, Ethan’s secretary.” So this was the woman Ethan always talked about. The one who needed his constant protection. Before I could even process this, Ethan walked out of my master bedroom and announced casually, “Vivian is going to live with us from now on. The office is close to this place, so it’s much easier for her commute.” Years ago, He had felt sorry for me because I had nowhere to go, and he brought my bruised body to this very apartment. Back then, this place was my only safe haven. We lived together, fell in love, and built a life. But now, he used the exact same excuse to bring another woman into our home. How was I supposed to react to that? Seeing my eyes well up with tears, Ethan quickly opened a box of cake and held a forkful to my mouth. “Silky girl, are you seriously jealous of my secretary?” “Don’t worry. You’re the only one I love.” He raised three fingers to make an oath. But the promise felt so cheap, so utterly meaningless. “Iris, sweetie, I heard you suffer from depression,” Vivian said, putting on a show of deep concern, though her eyes flashed with pure provocation. “But don’t worry, I studied psychology. Ethan and I will heal you together.” Since she moved in, Everything changed. My personal vanity cabinet, which used to belong only to me, Was now overflowing with her dresses and skincare products. My antidepressants were pushed into a dusty corner, barely having any space. To “heal” me, They brought back all the knives they had previously locked away and placed them right in front of me. They even removed the safety locks on the balcony doors. “Vivian said that trapping you inside only makes you feel more like a patient,” Ethan explained. “Iris, live like a normal person. You can do this.” At night, the contrast was even more brutal. In the past, even if I just sighed in my sleep, he would immediately wake up to comfort me. Now, when I woke up screaming from nightmares, drenched in cold sweat, He remained completely unmoved. He didn’t even bother to look at me. “Vivian said you have to face your fears. Running away won’t solve anything.” But after a month of this “therapy,” My condition got drastically worse.

Vivian stood by my hospital bed, biting her lip as she apologized. “I’m so sorry, Iris. I didn’t mean to make your depression worse. But don’t worry, I will definitely find a way to cure you.” I let out a cold, mocking laugh. “Cure me? Where is your medical license?” She stiffened. She clearly didn’t expect me to be so direct. Instantly, her face crumpled into a perfect picture of innocence and hurt. “Iris, if you hate me that much, I’ll just leave.” Ethan instinctively stepped in front of Vivian, blocking my view. That protective gesture stabbed my eyes like a knife. “Iris! Vivian is only trying to help you. Why are you being so toxic and passive-aggressive?” “Why are you so ungrateful?” He got more and more worked up, finally spitting out the words that shattered my heart completely. “No wonder no one likes you! No wonder your mother chose to die just to get away from you!” My mother’s death was not a sudden rainstorm. It was a lifelong humidity. Years ago, when my father raised the knife to kill me, my mother blocked it. Before she passed away in the hospital, she told me, “Living is too painful, Iris. This time, I’d rather die to get away from him.” I had shown my deepest, most painful scar to Ethan. And today, he weaponized it to humiliate me in front of another woman. I thought I would cry, but when I touched my chest, it felt empty. Only a freezing coldness remained. When your heart goes completely numb, it doesn’t hurt anymore. “Ethan, you’re right,” I smiled weakly, a strange sense of calm washing over me. “So, you should leave me too.” I was done. I wanted out. A flash of panic crossed Ethan’s face. “Iris, I didn’t mean it like that…” He wanted to explain, but Vivian held him back. “Ethan, Iris is emotionally unstable right now. She won’t listen to anything you say. Let’s just give her some space to calm down.” Ethan hesitated, then nodded. He tucked my blanket in, and then walked out of the room with Vivian. He didn’t come back that night. It wasn’t until the next morning that they returned to sign my discharge papers. Looking at my pale face, Vivian smiled mysteriously. “Iris, guess what Ethan and I did for you yesterday?” I kept my face expressionless. “I don’t care, and I don’t want to know.” Her smile faltered for a second, but she quickly pulled a giant teddy bear out of a shopping bag, her face glowing with triumph. “Look! Isn’t it cute? I know this is your favorite limited-edition bear.” “Yesterday, the mall had a couples’ contest. Ethan and I had to kiss for a whole hour—our lips were practically bleeding—just to win this for you!” “See? Ethan and I care about you so much.” I had been with Ethan for years. We had never had any passionate physical intimacy. Because he always told me, “The highest form of love is cherish. I’m afraid to touch you too much because I don’t want to lose control and hurt you…” But now, He could kiss another woman for an hour in a public game. My stomach churned with intense disgust. I snatched the teddy bear and threw it straight into the trash can. Then, I looked at Ethan coldly. “I have emotional hygiene. I don’t want second-hand trash that other people have slobbered over.” Ethan’s face flushed red with anger. “Iris! Is your depression cured or what? How dare you speak to us like that!” “Vivian and I did that just to make you happy! Why do you have to be so petty about how we got the toy?” I smiled bitterly. “But I’m not happy at all.” “Ethan, let’s break up. I’m going back to pack my things.” Before Ethan could react, I turned, flagged down a taxi, and left.

Back at the apartment, I felt a wave of emptiness. This place was once my safe haven. But now, the storm inside was too violent, and there was no room left for me. Just as I finished packing my suitcase, Ethan and Vivian burst through the door. Ethan pinned me against the wall, his eyes bloodshot as he begged me not to leave. “Iris, we love each other so much. Why are you doing this over a silly fight?” “If you don’t want me to protect other people, fine! I’ll be your exclusive hero from now on.” “It’s too late tonight. Tomorrow, I promise I’ll make Vivian move out, okay?” Yes. We used to love each other so much. We had literally saved each other’s lives. The memories of his grand, romantic gestures flashed before my eyes. Once, when I said I wanted pastries from a bakery in Paris, he rented a private jet to fly them over overnight. On my birthday, He rented out an entire amusement park just to put on a private firework show for me. And when my father stabbed me, Ethan took two blows for me and bled out on the way to the hospital just to make sure I survived… But no matter how beautiful the past was, when it’s time to let go, you have to let go. Looking back at the past is like trying to catch a ghost. You only torture yourself. Ethan was stubborn. I knew I had to play along to get away safely. “Fine. I’ll trust you one last time.” Ethan gasped in relief and pulled me into a tight hug. “Go to sleep. I promise when you wake up tomorrow, there won’t be a third person in this house.” That night, I couldn’t sleep. At around 2:00 AM, I felt a sudden draft of cold air. I opened my eyes, and my heart stopped. Standing by my window was the man I feared most in this world—my father, Frank. He had somehow climbed up the pipes and slipped through the unlocked balcony door. He rubbed his filthy hands together, his eyes gleaming with greed. “Found you, you little bitch!” “Give me the money, or I’m dragging you back to sell you to my bookie!” The old terror paralyzed my lungs. But this time, I refused to let him destroy me. I clenched my fists, lunged forward, and bit down on his wrist with everything I had. My teeth sank deep into his flesh. The copper taste of blood filled my mouth. He screamed in agony and violently threw me off. I crashed onto the floor. My arm knocked over the burning aromatherapy candle on the nightstand. The flame immediately caught onto the sheer, flimsy curtains. In an instant, fire roared up the fabric. Within seconds, the room was swallowed by thick smoke and bright orange flames. Frank panicked. Forgetting about the money, he scrambled back out the window to save his own skin. It wasn’t until smoke began seeping through the cracks of the bedroom door that Ethan and Vivian finally realized what was happening. Vivian, coughing from the smoke in the hallway, fainted right into Ethan’s arms. Ethan looked at the raging fire blocking my bedroom door, then looked at me trapped inside. His face twisted with conflict. “Iris! This is between you and your father. Vivian is innocent, she shouldn’t be dragged into this!” “I have to get her to safety first! I’ll come back for you!” “You know fire safety! Find a way to survive! I’ll be right back!” The scorching black smoke stung my eyes, making them water. I let out a soft laugh. Since no one was coming to save me, I would save myself. Maybe Ethan was right. I couldn’t wait for someone else to hold the umbrella anymore. I had to walk through the rain myself. At that moment, I realized that the heart that chose me above all else… had always been beating inside my own chest. I stopped looking at the locked door. I turned around and looked at the open balcony. Below the balcony was a rushing, deep river. It was my only way out. I wiped the tears from my face, took a deep breath, And jumped into the water.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “464893”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster

I spent two years mentoring an intern, Chloe Miller. I taught her everything from scratch—starting from how to write a professional email to letting her pitch to major clients on her own. The night before her final conversion pitch, I stayed up with her until 3 AM, editing her PowerPoint slides slide by slide. When she stood on stage and officially secured her full-time offer, she choked back tears. “Thank you to the company,” she sobbed into the microphone. “Carrying the weight of this department all on my own for the past two years… it was incredibly hard.” The room erupted in applause. No one mentioned my name. I didn’t care. But the very next morning, she posted on Instagram. “Finally free from someone’s toxic, gaslighting management style. It’s time to be myself.” She attached a photo of the two of us. My face was heavily blurred. The comment section exploded, with everyone unanimously labeling me a “corporate devil.” That afternoon, my boss, Arthur Vance, called me into his office. “Claire, we received a formal complaint accusing you of workplace bullying. HR needs to initiate a formal investigation.” I nodded calmly. “Sure. I’ll cooperate fully.” I set my coffee cup down and added, “But just so we are clear—the contracts for her three major accounts are signed under my name, and I am the sole point of contact. While I’m under investigation, I’ll be pausing all work on those accounts. That shouldn’t be an issue, right?” Arthur’s face instantly went pale. Those three accounts made up sixty percent of our department’s annual revenue.

“Claire, let me remind you, this is not the time to negotiate terms.” Arthur closed the office door and lowered his voice. “I’m not negotiating,” I said, tightening the cap on my water bottle. “Mr. Thorne’s annual contract is up for renewal next month. Mr. Sterling’s Q3 payments are still processing. And Mr. Hayes’s integration proposal needs to be pushed through next week. Since my status at this company is up in the air due to the investigation, it’s highly inappropriate for me to handle client relations.” “So, you want Chloe to take over?” “That’s your executive decision, Arthur. Not mine.” He stared at me for three long seconds before letting out a soft, condescending laugh—the kind of patronizing smile middle managers use to intimidate their subordinates. “Claire, I’m talking to you as a friend. This thing is blowing up online. Just cooperate with HR, keep a low profile, and don’t actually drop the ball with the clients.” “Arthur, Chloe is accusing me of bullying. If I keep managing the accounts she’s supposed to run, how is that going to look online?” He opened his mouth, but no words came out. I didn’t wait for him to find an excuse. I pushed the door open and walked out. At the end of the hallway, soft sobbing drifted from the breakroom. Three or four female colleagues were crowded around Chloe, handing her tissues. The moment Chloe saw me, she froze. Then, she quickly shrunk back into Rachel Davis’s arms, showing only a terrified half-profile of her face. Rachel immediately stood up, blocking Chloe with her body, and threw a dagger-like glare in my direction. I walked right past them, returned to my desk, and opened my laptop. An email sent at exactly 2:17 PM yesterday sat quietly in my inbox. Sender: Chloe Miller. Recipients: Richard Thorne, Marcus Sterling, Dominic Hayes. Subject: Notification of Account Manager Change. The body of the email was brief and fluent. She had used the exact customized templates I always used to write to clients. She hadn’t even changed the signature format. At 2:17 PM yesterday, she sent transition notices to all my clients. At 8:00 PM last night, she made the Instagram post. At 9:00 AM this morning, Arthur called me in for a talk. The timeline was crystal clear—before she fired her first shot, she had already paved her escape route. I closed my inbox. I picked up my phone and opened Snapchat to message Jenna Brooks. It had been five years. During my first year at the company, she was the one who showed me the ropes. Together, we had landed five massive annual deals. Last year, when her mother was hospitalized, I lent her twelve thousand dollars and never once asked for it back. I texted her: *Jenna, do you have a minute to chat?* *Read.* No reply. Ten minutes later, I went to get some water. Passing the breakroom, I saw Jenna sitting inside, talking to Rachel and Chloe. “…I honestly think Claire goes too far sometimes. She micromanages everything. Chloe had to work late almost every night. I saw it with my own eyes more than once.” I stopped at the doorway. She happened to look up, and our eyes met. There was no guilt in her eyes. Only a survival instinct that everyone eventually learns after staying at this company for too long. I gave her a single nod. And walked away. At 3:00 PM, Victoria Gable from HR walked over, carrying a manila folder. “Claire, do you have a few minutes for a chat in the small conference room? To be clear, this is a formal investigation interview. Everything will be recorded.” “Sure.” “Chloe claims that during her internship and probationary period, you repeatedly forced her to rewrite proposals late at night, criticized her work in front of the team, and restricted her from communicating with clients independently. What is your response?” “Late-night rewrites—the night before her final conversion presentation, I was the one editing her PPT until 3 AM, not her. Public criticism—during her first independent client proposal, she added an extra zero to the pricing. I corrected her face-to-face. Restricting client communication—I accompanied her to client meetings for the first eight months, then gradually let her take the lead. You can verify this in the weekly project reports.” Victoria kept her head down, her pen scratching against the paper. “So, you admit these events did take place?” “I admit I mentored her. I taught her. I corrected her mistakes. If that’s what we are calling bullying now, then this company might as well scrap its entire training program.” Victoria looked up, tapping her pen against the folder. “Claire, I only record the facts. I don’t make the final judgment. Please maintain a cooperative attitude.” “Of course.” The moment I stepped out of the conference room, my phone buzzed with an unknown number. “Hi, Claire. This is Richard Thorne’s assistant, Sarah. Mr. Thorne asked me to check in—what’s going on with the account transition email we received today? Are you no longer managing our account?” I paused. “Sarah, I’m not in a position to explain right now. If there are any urgent business needs, please contact Chloe.” There was a long silence on the other end. “Claire, Mr. Thorne’s exact words were: ‘Tell her to call me directly.’” “Please convey a message to Mr. Thorne for me.” “Go ahead.” “As long as the contract stands, I’ll be here.”

“Claire… you probably shouldn’t look at your phone.” Zach, the youngest intern in our department, whispered as he passed my desk, his voice barely audible. I hadn’t planned on looking. But the tense atmosphere in the office spoke volumes. Everyone had their heads glued to their screens, occasionally throwing quick, uneasy glances my way before snapping their eyes back down. It was as quiet as a funeral home. I opened TikTok. The search page showed a trending hashtag near the top: `#ToxicBossConfessions`. I clicked on the video. Under warm lighting, wearing a cozy cream-colored sweater, Chloe sat in front of the camera. Her hair fell loosely over her shoulders, and her fingers nervously fiddled with a tissue. A sympathetic interviewer off-camera handed her a fresh box of tissues at just the right moment. “She would throw my finished proposals back at me and ask, ‘Is this even written by a human?’ Once, it was almost 3 AM, and she was still forcing me to edit a PPT. I literally cried and begged her to let me finish it the next day, and she just said—’If you can’t even handle this little bit of pressure, you shouldn’t have joined this industry.’” The interviewer asked softly, “Do you consider that workplace abuse?” Chloe’s tears finally spilled over. “I don’t know how to define it. All I know is that for two years, every single morning I woke up, my very first thought was—what do I have to do today to avoid making her angry?” The top comments read: *“Oh my god, this boss needs to be publicly exposed.”* *“Another toxic manager hiding behind the excuse of ‘mentorship’ to exploit young talent.”* *“We need the company name and her name. Make her famous.”* The fourth comment was a screenshot. It was my company ID photo, full company name, department, office floor, and my full name: Claire Harper. My phone started vibrating violently. Text after text from unknown numbers flooded in. *“Die, toxic bitch.”* *“Go take your menopause out on someone else, garbage.”* *“We found your address. Watch your back.”* I flipped my phone face down on the desk. At 11:30 AM, Arthur and Victoria walked over, both wearing equally grim expressions. Arthur spoke first. “Claire, the online backlash has gotten out of hand. Our PR team suggests that you take a temporary leave of absence until the investigation is complete. Please do not make any public statements or respond to any media inquiries.” Victoria pushed a printed notice toward me. The wording was: *In light of recent public relations concerns, and to protect the rights of both parties, it is recommended that Claire Harper take a temporary leave of absence. Relevant client accounts will be temporarily managed by Chloe Miller.* The word “recommended” was bolded. But there was only one signature line at the bottom—and it had my name on it. “And if I refuse to sign?” Arthur took a deep breath. “Claire, that video has over fifty million views across platforms. The company cannot have an accused bully walking around the office right now. Please try to understand.” “I understand.” I picked up the pen and signed. Not because I was admitting guilt. But because that 2:17 PM email told me that Chloe’s chess moves went far deeper than anyone in this office realized. Fighting back publicly right now would only feed her victim narrative. I grabbed a cardboard box and started packing up my desk. A calendar, a calculator, and a small succulent that was half-dead from the office AC. As I passed Chloe’s desk, she was just hanging up a phone call. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught the name on her screen—Marcus Sterling. Seeing me look, she quickly locked her screen, instinctively hunched her shoulders, turned to Rachel, and whispered, “I’m still so scared of her…” It was just loud enough for me to hear. And just loud enough for everyone else in the room to hear too. I carried my box into the elevator. At the lobby, my phone rang. It was my mom. “Claire, people are saying online that you bullied your intern. What is going on? Mrs. Higgins showed it to me while they were playing cards, and Aunt Sarah even forwarded the link to her daughter’s group chat—” “Mom, that’s not what happened.” “If that’s not what happened, why was that poor girl crying like that? You need to watch your temper around these young kids—” “Mom.” “Yes?” “Do you trust me?” The other end went quiet for a few seconds. Then, she started to sniffle. “Of course I trust you. But your dad saw those comments… he wants you to just quit and come home. This job isn’t worth it.” I leaned against the glass exterior of the building, the sharp corner of the cardboard box digging into my palm. “Whether it’s worth it is one thing. But I’m not letting someone step on my face to climb the ladder. I don’t let debts go unpaid.” “But what can you do? The video is already out there—” “Mom, just wait until I finish this battle. Once I win, I’m taking you out for a fancy steak dinner at Ruth’s Chris.” “…Just don’t skip your meals.” I hung up. My phone buzzed again. It was Fiona Fitzgerald. She was my college roommate, and now she worked as a senior legal counsel specializing in online harassment and cyber law. “Claire, I saw the interview. The TikTok account that posted it is called ‘Corporate Truths.’ I ran a search on the registration info.” “And?” “The creator’s real name is Sarah Miller. She is Chloe’s college roommate and best friend.” I leaned against my car door and let out a cold laugh. “College roommates.” “Yeah. This wasn’t a spontaneous cry for help, Claire. This was premeditated. What’s your next move?” I looked at the half-dead succulent in my hand. “I wait.” “Wait for what?” “Wait for her to take over my clients—and then wait for her to drown.”

“Claire, this is the second batch of evidence Chloe submitted. We need you to respond to each point.” Victoria pushed a stack of printed screenshots toward me. It was twice as thick as the last one. I flipped to the first page. It was a Snapchat screenshot. At 2:47 AM, I had sent Chloe a message: *The data logic in section three is off. Look at the highlighted parts, fix it, and send it back.* Below it, Chloe had written a note: *”Still forced to edit proposals near 3 AM. This happened repeatedly, severely impacting my mental health.”* The second page. A photo of a printed draft on my desk, covered in red ink. Every error had hand-written corrections, brackets, arrows, and detailed explanations. Chloe’s note: *”She would rip my work to shreds and throw it back at me in front of the entire team.”* The third page. A transcript of an audio recording. *”You call this a proposal? Redo it.”* No context. No lead-up. No ending. I remembered saying those exact words. The actual, full sentence was: *”You call this a proposal? Redo it. Don’t worry, I’ll walk you through it. Let’s re-read the client’s brief together and map it out step-by-step.”* She had conveniently cut out everything after the first seven words. “How do you respond?” Victoria asked. “I have the complete chat logs to disprove all of this. For the late-night message, I ended up working on that draft myself for another three hours and sent her the finished version. You can check my outgoing mail logs. The red markings on that paper draft were mentoring notes, not a disciplinary notice. As for the audio—tell her to submit the unedited, full recording.” Victoria made a note, then looked up at me. “Claire, I spoke to other members of your team over the past couple of days. Jenna Brooks mentioned that you do have incredibly high standards and can be very demanding.” “Being demanding and bullying are two entirely different things.” “You don’t get to draw that line,” she said, closing the folder. “Furthermore, Chloe provided a screenshot of her digital journal from last August. She wrote: ‘I feel like I can’t do this anymore. I live under her constant scrutiny every day, like a soulless corporate puppet.’” “Last August, Chloe landed a two-million-dollar deal with Mr. Sterling. At the celebration dinner, she posted a picture of us raising champagne glasses on Instagram. Her caption was: ‘So grateful to my amazing mentor Claire for holding my hand through this process. I couldn’t have done it without her.’ Would you like me to send you the screenshot?” Victoria’s pen paused. “That could just prove she was in a fawning state of mind at the time—” “Victoria,” I interrupted her. “Are you here to investigate the actual facts, or are you just trying to find footnotes to support a conclusion you’ve already made?” She pursed her lips, refusing to answer directly. “We will evaluate all materials thoroughly.” In HR-speak, that translated to: *I’m taking your evidence, but I’m probably going to ignore it.* That afternoon, I sat at home scrolling through my phone. Fiona sent me a link to another viral post on Medium. Title: *How I Spent Two Years of My Youth Feeding a Corporate Monster.* It was posted anonymously, but the writing style, tone, and vocabulary were identical to Chloe’s. It already had over a hundred thousand views. In the comment section, someone had managed to leak the name of my apartment complex. I stood up and drew the curtains shut. At 9:00 PM, my doorbell rang. I opened the door. Chloe was standing in the hallway. She was still wearing her signature innocent cream-colored sweater, her eyes red, showing fresh tear stains that she had deliberately tried to wipe away. “Claire…” “What do you want?” She bit her lip, her voice trembling. “I know you hate me. But… this wasn’t entirely my idea.” “What is that supposed to mean?” She stepped closer and lowered her voice. “Arthur… he approached me. He said if I helped diminish your influence in the department, he would give me your clients and promote me to Assistant Manager. Claire, he’s the one pulling the strings behind all of this—” I stared at her face. The watery eyes, the fluttering eyelashes, the shallow breathing, even the slight tremble of her lips—everything was perfectly rehearsed. For two years, I had watched her practice these exact expressions before she walked into client negotiations. “Do you have proof?” I asked. Tears immediately streamed down her face. “Claire, why don’t you ever believe me? You were always like this at the office—always doubting me, always making me feel like I was never good enough—” She began to sob hysterically, her voice rising in volume. The light in my neighbor’s hallway clicked on. I stepped back and pulled the door shut. I didn’t lock it. I just closed it. Her crying continued outside my door for about two minutes before abruptly stopping. Then came the sound of retreating footsteps. I picked up my phone. Chloe had just updated her Instagram story: “Gathered the courage to privately apologize and seek peace, only to be met with coldness and a shut door. Some people’s desire for control is simply hardwired into their bones.” Attached was a photo of my apartment door number. A text from Fiona popped up almost instantly: *Did she seriously just go to your apartment?* *She just left.* *What did she say?* *She claimed Arthur was the mastermind behind everything.* *Do you believe her?* I looked at the flood of “stay strong” and “sending love” comments pouring under her post. *She didn’t come here to warn me. She came to capture content of being ‘shut out.’* *So, what now?* *Now?* I sat back down on my couch and turned off the living room lights. *I have two years of complete project logs, client emails, and handwritten thank-you notes from her. But to Victoria, those are just ‘written under duress.’* *So, what are you going to do?* *Nothing. Evidence is useless to people who refuse to see it. It needs to be presented to the right people, at the exact right moment.* *When is that?* A notification popped up on my screen—an email from Mr. Sterling’s assistant with the subject line: “URGENT: Q3 Payment Issues.” I didn’t open it. *Very soon.*

“Team, the theme of today’s town hall is—Workplace Culture and Healthy Boundaries.” Arthur stood in front of the projector screen, his laser pointer highlighting the bold title of his slides. Over two hundred employees sat in the tiered auditorium. Everyone knew exactly what this “culture building” session was actually about. But no one mentioned my name. They didn’t have to. I sat in the very last row, leaning against the wall. “Recently, we’ve received feedback regarding certain management practices,” Arthur cleared his throat. “This company deeply values the mental health and well-being of every single employee.” The slide clicked to page three. Title: *Mentorship vs. Micromanagement—The Boundaries of a Healthy Professional Relationship.* Below it, six “Examples of Unacceptable Management Behavior” were listed: * *Demanding revisions outside of working hours.* * *Using personal standards rather than company metrics for performance reviews.* * *Gatekeeping client communications from junior staff.* * *Creating dependency relationships within teams.* Every single bullet point was a direct, targeted attack on how I had managed Chloe. He didn’t name me. But this was far worse than a direct call-out. Arthur spoke for fifteen minutes. Then, he said, “Now, I’d like to invite a colleague to share her personal experience—entirely voluntary, of course, just to provide some perspective.” Chloe stood up from the third row. Today she wore a light gray cardigan, with a small daisy brooch pinned to her collar. She walked to the microphone, lowered her head, and stood in silence for three seconds. When she finally looked up, her eyes were already rimmed with red. “Hi, everyone. Standing here today takes a lot of courage.” “For the past two years, I honestly thought what I was experiencing was just rigorous training. Until one day, I read an article about workplace gaslighting. I froze. Suddenly, that constant feeling of being belittled, controlled, and forced into absolute submission… had a name.” Someone in the front row started to sniffle. “I don’t blame any specific individual. I believe every management style has its reasons. But I want to say—mentees are human beings, too. We deserve respect.” She gave a deep, respectful bow. The room erupted into thundering applause. A few people in the front rows turned to look at me, their faces filled with a mix of pity, judgment, and the morbid curiosity of onlookers watching a car crash from a safe distance. Once the applause died down, Arthur announced a new set of company guidelines—the “Six Commandments of Mentorship.” Every single rule read like a mirror designed to condemn my past actions. The meeting adjourned. The crowd filtered past me, steering wide circles around me as if I were a biohazard. In the hallway, Jenna Brooks rushed to catch up with me. “Claire.” I stopped. She stood in front of me, struggling for words for a few seconds before finally murmuring, “I know you probably think I backstabbed you during the HR interview, but… I didn’t have a choice. I have a mortgage to pay, and management pulled me in twice. Please don’t hate me.” I looked at her. Five years of working together. “Jenna, I’m not in a rush for you to pay back that twelve thousand dollars. But stop feeding Chloe her lines in the breakroom. This is the last time I’m going to warn you.” The color drained from her face instantly. I turned and walked into the restroom. I locked the stall door. I turned on the faucet. Cold water splashed over my hands. The reflection in the mirror showed dark circles under my eyes and dry, cracked lips. I couldn’t laugh, and I didn’t want to cry. I just felt a deep, quiet, crushing exhaustion. My phone vibrated in my pocket. Caller ID: Richard Thorne. I took a deep breath and answered. “Claire,” Mr. Thorne’s deep, commanding voice boomed through the speaker. “Mr. Thorne.” “I heard about what’s going on. I don’t care about the corporate gossip. I only care about one thing—I do business with people, not corporate logos. You know that.” “…Thank you, Mr. Thorne.” “Don’t thank me. You earned it. Your contract with this firm expires next month. My stance is simple—wherever you go, my business goes. Let me know when you’ve figured out your next move.” He hung up. I gripped my phone, standing in the empty restroom. The faucet was still running loudly. I shut it off. Wiped my hands. As I pushed the door open, Arthur happened to be walking down the hallway. “Claire, I hope you didn’t take the town hall personally,” he said, his tone shockingly light, like a manager who genuinely believed he had handled a crisis beautifully. I stared at him. “Arthur, Richard Thorne’s annual contract is up for renewal on the fifteenth of next month.” He nodded. “I know. I’m having Chloe reach out to him next week—” “He isn’t going to renew.” The smile froze on Arthur’s face. “What do you mean?” “I mean exactly what I said. Just giving you a heads-up so you aren’t blindsided.” I walked right past him without looking back.

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My best friend was coerced by her wealthy in-laws into signing away her daughter’s custody. She cried until she was severely dehydrated in the hospital. I flew back overnight, rented an apartment for her, and helped her land a job. Every day, I cooked gourmet meals for her and kept her company, wanting nothing more than to see her get back on her feet. But my dedication only made my husband, Ethan Carter, increasingly impatient. He publicly criticized me for helping her, complaining that I spent my nights comforting her from nightmares, feeding her, and spending all my weekends keeping her company. He even yelled at me for “neglecting our own child.” He sneered at my best friend, saying, “A woman who can’t even keep her own kid isn’t worth ruining our lives over.” I slammed my fork onto the table, my eyes red as I shot back. “When my dad went bankrupt and everyone in the world avoided me like the plague, she was the only one who gave me her entire life savings!” “For my sake, Ethan, shut the hell up.” Later, I was sent to London for a three-month business project. I called her every day. Hearing her voice grow brighter and happier made my heart swell with relief. But when the project ended and I came home unexpected… I saw my best friend sitting at my dining table, and Ethan was leaning over, gently tying the apron strings around her waist. The look in their eyes as they stared at each other held a tenderness and chemistry I had never seen before. In an instant, my marriage and the friendship I cherished most crumbled to dust. *** #### 0

“Chloe? What are you—didn’t you say your flight was tomorrow?” Isla Vance was the first to speak, her voice trembling with panic. I stood in the entryway, the wheels of my suitcase still spinning quietly. The entire living room was filled with the rich aroma of garlic butter ribeye steak and creamy carbonara. It was a smell I hadn’t encountered once in our three years of marriage. Ethan never cooked. He always said the kitchen grease gave him a migraine. Yet, on the stove, there was a massive spread that clearly took two people to coordinate. I replied calmly, “My flight got bumped up.” Ethan finally pulled his hands back. He casually put some distance between himself and Isla, took two steps toward me, and naturally took the handle of my suitcase. “You must be exhausted. Did you eat on the way?” Isla’s eyes were already turning red. She grabbed my wrist tightly. “Chloe, listen to me, it’s not what you think. Ethan saw me eating instant ramen alone in my apartment, so he offered to come over and teach me how to cook a few dishes. I’m just so clumsy and couldn’t tie the apron, so he—” “Isla,” Ethan interrupted her. “Go home first. I’ll drive you.” Isla froze, seemingly caught off guard by his words. Her lips parted, but she didn’t argue further. She lowered her head and walked to the entryway to change her shoes. As she passed me, she lightly brushed the back of my hand. “Chloe, let’s talk tomorrow, okay?” The sound of the front door closing was very soft. I walked over to the dining table. Two sets of forks, two glasses of warm water, a side salad, and the perfectly seared steak. Ethan’s fork had been used. The salad was half gone. “You’re teaching her how to cook?” I pulled out a chair, sat down, and picked up a fork to take a bite of the steak. I chewed slowly. “Tastes good. When did you learn how to make this?” Ethan leaned against the kitchen doorframe, watching me, his brow furrowing. “Chloe, cut the sarcasm. She’s having a hard time living alone. I went to check on her and made a quick meal. Is there a problem with that?” “No problem.” I took another bite. “It’s just that in three years, this is the first time I’ve eaten your cooking. I didn’t know you were such a chef.” “What is that supposed to mean?” “Nothing.” I put down my fork and looked up at him. “Ethan, you used to tell me that kitchen smoke triggered your migraines, so I did all the cooking. Three months ago, before I left for London, I stuffed the freezer with all your favorite meals. I wrote down the heating instructions for every single container on sticky notes.” “You didn’t touch a single one, did you?” He was silent for a few seconds. He pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, but stuffed it back in without lighting one. “What exactly are you trying to say, Chloe?” “I’m saying you tie apron strings very quickly. It didn’t look like your first time.” After I said that, a heavy silence settled over the living room. From somewhere outside, the distant, tinny music of an ice cream truck drifted through the window. The cheerful, out-of-tune melody paired with the suffocating silence in the room felt ridiculously absurd. Ethan walked over and sat down across from me, crossing his hands on the table. “Chloe, I’m only going to say this once. There is absolutely nothing going on between Isla and me. If you don’t trust me, go ahead and check my phone. Check whatever you want.” He looked me dead in the eye, his gaze steady and resolute, like he was making a sacred vow. But vows were something I had long stopped believing in. Years ago, my dad was scammed out of everything by his business partner. Overnight, we went from high society to social pariahs. Our relatives and friends vanished faster than ghosts. Even my own mother packed her bags and abandoned us. In that dark world, Isla was the only one who shoved a debit card into my hand. She told me it was the savings from her last four years of work, and if it wasn’t enough, we’d find another way. Later, I gritted my teeth, finished my master’s degree, got a high-paying corporate job, and married a successful husband. I honestly believed the greatest stroke of luck in my life was having her as my best friend. So, when her ex-husband’s family played dirty and coerced her into signing away her daughter’s custody, leaving her shaking and sobbing in the hospital hallway, I didn’t hesitate for a single second. I owed her a debt I could never fully repay. “I trust you,” I finally said. Ethan’s shoulders visibly relaxed. “But Ethan—” I stood up, taking the dishes to the sink, keeping my back turned to him. “The next time you go to her apartment, could you at least let me know first?” There was no reply from behind me. I turned on the faucet. The rush of running water drowned out everything that should and shouldn’t have been said. *** #### 0

“Chloe, are you still mad at me?” First thing the next morning, Isla showed up at my door. She was holding a bottle of the peach cider I loved, looking incredibly anxious and small. Ethan had already left for work. I let her inside and poured her a glass of warm water. “No, I’m just exhausted. I haven’t recovered from the jet lag yet.” She let out a massive sigh of relief and smiled. The tension drained from her body as she slid next to me on the sofa, naturally wrapping her arm around mine. “I knew you wouldn’t overthink it. Ethan really helped me out a lot while you were away. When I was moving, my water heater burst, and he came over in the middle of the night to fix it. And last month when I had that high fever, he drove me to the ER—” “Isla.” “Yeah?” “He never mentioned any of those things to me.” Isla blinked, processing my words, before biting her lip. “He probably just thought they were minor things… Chloe, don’t look at me like that. I swear, nothing happened between us.” “If it makes you uncomfortable, I won’t ask him for help anymore.” Her eyes welled with tears as she spoke, her voice dropping into a soft, vulnerable whisper. “You’re the only person I have left in this city. If even you don’t trust me, I don’t know what I’ll do.” The tight knot in my chest loosened slightly. Isla had always been like this. When she cried, she looked like a helpless, drenched kitten. It was impossible to stay mad at her. “Alright, I’m not blaming you,” I said, patting her hand. “I heard from your Snapchat updates while I was in London that your new job is going well?” The moment I mentioned work, her face lit up. Her eyes sparkled as she began babbling about how nice her new coworkers were, how much her manager appreciated her, and how she had even won “Rookie of the Month” last week. I smiled and listened, remembering how she had been curled up on that hospital floor three months ago. Suddenly, everything felt worth it. That evening, when Ethan came home, I was in the kitchen prepping dinner while he sat in the living room watching the financial news. “Did Isla stop by today?” he asked. “Yeah.” “What did you guys talk about?” I walked out carrying a plate of food and glanced at him. “She told me about all the things you did for her over the last three months. Fixing her heater, driving her to the ER at midnight… Ethan, I asked you to look out for her, not to be at her beck and call.” He put down the remote, leaning back against the sofa. “You weren’t here. Who else was she supposed to call? She has no family here. When something goes wrong, she shouldn’t have to face it completely alone.” “So you think you did nothing wrong?” “What *is* wrong with it?” he retorted, a hint of annoyance creeping into his voice. “You’re the one who told me to take care of her. Now that I did, you’re pissed. Chloe, what do you actually want from me?” My mouth opened, but no words came out. He was right. I was the one who practically begged him to do it. Before leaving for London, I had repeatedly reminded him that Isla’s mental state was fragile after the divorce, and asked him to help watch over her. He had looked annoyed at the time, but he had ultimately nodded. Now that he had done exactly what I asked, I was starting to act paranoid. “I’m sorry,” I said, sitting down next to him and leaning my head on his shoulder. “I’m just overthinking.” Ethan didn’t say anything, but he reached out and gently stroked my hair. “Where’s Leo?” I suddenly realized. “At my mom’s place. With you gone for three months, I couldn’t handle him alone, so I dropped him off there.” Leo was our two-and-a-half-year-old son. Before leaving, I had specifically hired a full-time nanny so Ethan wouldn’t be overwhelmed. “What about the nanny?” “I let her go,” he said casually. “I don’t like having strangers in the house.” I looked up at him. His gaze was fixed on the TV screen. His phone lit up with a notification, but he glanced at it and immediately swiped it face down. “Who was that?” “Just work.” I reached out to grab his phone, but stopped myself halfway. Forget it. I didn’t want to become one of those paranoid, suffocating wives. But late that night, insomnia hit me. I tossed and turned, completely unable to fall asleep. Ethan was fast asleep, his phone tucked under his pillow. I stared at the ceiling for a long time before finally rolling over to close my eyes. At 3:00 AM, his phone buzzed. He rolled over, groggily pulled the phone out from under the pillow to check it, and then quietly slid out of bed. He slipped out of the bedroom, clutching the phone. Muffled whispers drifted from the living room. I couldn’t make out the words, except for the very last sentence. “Stop crying. We’ll talk about it tomorrow.” I lay there in the dark, gripping the bedsheets until my knuckles turned white. *** #### 0

“Chloe, how is Isla doing lately?” When I went to my mother-in-law’s place over the weekend to pick up Leo, she suddenly brought it up. I was kneeling on the floor, tying Leo’s sneakers. My hands froze for a split second. “She’s doing well. Her job is stable now.” Ethan’s mother wiped her hands on a dish towel as she walked out of the kitchen. She hesitated for a moment before speaking. “Ethan hasn’t been home much these past few months, has he? He told me his firm was incredibly busy and he had to work late.” “Yes, he’s been busy.” I picked Leo up and gave her a polite smile. “Mom, we should get going. Leo needs his nap.” She stopped me, looking conflicted. “Chloe, I’m not trying to meddle. Isla is a sweet girl, but you have your own family to think about. When Ethan came over last week to pick up some of Leo’s clothes, there was a silk scarf sitting on his passenger seat. Men are careless, he probably didn’t even notice it…” “But I know for a fact that scarf wasn’t yours.” I kept holding Leo, my smile unchanged, but my grip on him tightened until my fingers turned pale. On the drive back, Leo fell asleep in his car seat. I pulled over to the side of the road and called Isla. “Chloe! Hey, I was actually just about to text you to grab lunch—” “Isla, you left a silk scarf in Ethan’s car.” The line went dead silent for two seconds. “Oh… right! That must have been from when he drove me to the hospital. I was feeling super carsick and took it off. I totally forgot about it. Chloe, I’ll grab it next time I see you—” “No need. I’ll bring it back to you.” After hanging up, I sat in the car, gripping the steering wheel for what felt like hours. I wondered if I really was just being crazy. Ethan was distant, but he wasn’t a bad man. Isla was loyal, she wasn’t that kind of person. They were the two most important people in my life. What reason did I have not to trust them? But I recognized that scarf. It was a pale green silk wrap. I had bought it for Isla’s birthday. She had told me it was too expensive to wear and kept it safely locked in her closet. Now, it was sitting in my husband’s passenger seat. When Ethan came home that night, I placed the scarf on the coffee table. He didn’t stop kick off his shoes. He glanced at it. “Where did you find that?” “In your car. It’s Isla’s.” “Oh.” He walked over, picked it up, and casually draped it over the back of a chair. “I drove her to the doctor last week. She got carsick, took it off, and forgot it.” His explanation matched Isla’s word-for-word. “Ethan.” “Yeah?” “How many times have you driven her to the hospital?” He finally stopped loosening his tie. He turned to look at me, his eyes filled with exhaustion and impatience. “Chloe, can you stop doing this? Do I have to undergo an interrogation for every single thing I do? If you’re really that paranoid, I won’t help her with anything ever again, okay?” “You asked me to take care of her, so I did. You told me not to speak ill of her, so I didn’t. Now you’re implying something is going on between us. Chloe, do you hear how unreasonable you sound?” His voice wasn’t loud, but every word felt like a needle pricking my deepest insecurities. Because everything he said was technically true. I was the one who brought Isla into our lives. I was the one who begged him to help her. I was the one who chose to fly to London for three months despite his objections. What right did I have to accuse him? “I’m sorry,” I managed to choke out. Ethan threw his tie onto the couch, walked into the bathroom, and slammed the door shut before turning on the shower. I sat in the living room and picked up the silk scarf. It was folded neatly. And it smelled of a strange, sweet detergent—not the brand we used. Someone had washed it, folded it, and placed it on the passenger seat. It wasn’t forgotten there. It was placed there on purpose. The next day, I went to Isla’s apartment without warning. I rang the doorbell three times, but nobody answered. I pulled out the spare key—the one she had given me the day she moved in, telling me to keep it “just in case.” The moment the door swung open, my eyes fell on a pair of men’s slippers sitting on the shoe rack. They were dark gray, size 10. The wear on the soles showed they had been worn more than just a few times. I recognized those slippers. I had bought them online as a matching couple’s set for Ethan’s birthday last year. He had complained that the color was ugly and barely wore them. Eventually, they disappeared, and I assumed they had been thrown out with the donations. The living room looked normal, but out on the balcony, two shirts were hanging on the drying rack. They were crisp white button-downs. On the cuffs, there were dark silver engraved cufflinks—Ethan’s signature style. He insisted on those specific cufflinks for all his formal shirts. As I stood on the balcony, my phone rang. It was Isla. “Chloe! Where are you? I just got back from the grocery store. I bought those cherries you love—” “I’m at your apartment.” The phone went dead silent. Three seconds. Five seconds. Ten seconds. “Chloe… why did you go over without telling me? The place is such a mess—” “Isla, whose white shirts are hanging on your balcony?” The silence stretched so long it felt suffocating. Finally, she let out a tight, nervous laugh. “Oh… those belong to a guy from work. We had a team dinner last week, and he spilled wine all over himself. I offered to wash them for him—” “Isla.” “Are those slippers on your rack his, too?” Over the phone, I heard the sound of cherries spilling and rolling across the floor. Isla’s breathing became frantic. “Chloe, let me explain—” I hung up the phone.

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