Author: Momo Chan

When Ryan Bright once again went on strike for his little paramour, his agent nearly fell to her knees before me. “Ms. Marston, please, show some mercy. This is the eighth movie he’s pulled out of this month.” Her voice was desperate, verging on tears. “At this rate, Ryan won’t have any roles left!” But even as his agent was on the brink of despair, another message from Ryan pinged. “Scarlett Marston, if the leading lady in this film isn’t Eliza Sterling, no amount of begging from you will change my mind.” He added, with a dismissive chuckle, “You say you want to pursue me? Well, a chase requires some effort, right?” Then, an afterthought, “Oh, and you know how to handle the Golden Falcon Award for Best Actor, don’t you?” My gaze fell upon the latest magazine cover. The fresh-faced newcomer, though still green, bore a striking resemblance to my treasured first love, Liam Hayes. His agent was still pleading, but I casually tore up Ryan’s contract, a wry smile playing on my lips. “Don’t you understand yet?” My voice was calm, but sharp. “Whoever I champion will be the next Best Actor.” … The next day, I was in the middle of a meeting when the boardroom door was suddenly kicked open. Everyone turned to look, their expressions a mix of surprise and annoyance. Ryan stood leaning against the doorframe, a defiant swagger about him. “Just one day of striking, and you cancel my movie contract?” He scoffed, his eyes narrowed. “You never said anything when I skipped work for a whole month before.” His gaze sharpened, a taunt in his voice. “Could it be that you’re jealous because I was with Eliza yesterday?” I closed my laptop, my expression unruffled. “Ryan, because you bailed on us at the last minute yesterday, the company paid three million in breach-of-contract fees on your behalf.” Ryan casually pulled up a chair and sat down, nonchalant. “Three million? Haven’t you paid more for me before?” He then fixed his gaze on me, his tone laced with a thinly veiled threat. “But if you dare cancel Director Davies’ film, I’ll jump ship to Celestial Entertainment.” Ryan’s confidence wasn’t unfounded. After all, his current A-list status was entirely my doing. That snowy night, his nose was red from the cold, but his eyes shone brightly. He’d said he wanted to be famous, to control his own destiny. That stubborn look, the familiar scent of ebony and amber, the matching snowy backdrop… for a moment, it made me think of my first love. So, I softened, pouring immense resources into him, just to lift him up. But that was all he was to me. A commodity. If I could raise one, I could certainly raise a second, or a third. I frowned slightly, tapping my fingertips on the table. Seeing my prolonged silence, Ryan slapped a room key card onto the table with a triumphant “Tsk.” “You’ve been chasing me for so long, it’s about time I gave you a little taste of victory.” He leaned back, a smug smile on his face. “Scarlett, you must be satisfied now, right?” Everyone present exchanged varied glances. I found it utterly ridiculous. Perhaps I had elevated him too high; he actually had the delusion that I was pursuing him. Just as I was about to say something, my phone buzzed with a text message. I opened it and saw the number I knew all too well. Pausing for a moment, I told my assistant to continue organizing the meeting notes, then left the boardroom without a backward glance. As I walked out, Ryan tried to follow, wanting to say something, but my assistant blocked him. He was certainly invested. After all, Director Davies was known as the “Best Actor Harvester” in the industry; every male lead he’d worked with had won an Oscar. And Ryan was in a transitional phase. To shed his “pretty boy” label, he absolutely needed to land the lead role in Director Davies’ new film. As the film’s biggest investor, I naturally had the final say on casting. Everyone had assumed the male lead role was undeniably Ryan’s, given my obvious favoritism towards him. Initially, I had planned for that, too. But then I remembered that text message, and I smiled. They didn’t know. The male lead I truly intended to champion was never Ryan Bright. The next morning, I met with Director Davies to discuss casting. We were deep in conversation when Ryan and Eliza Sterling burst in. Seeing me there, Ryan raised an eyebrow. “Scarlett, did you change your mind about replacing my lead role and now regret it?” His eyes were full of mockery. “You actually went to the trouble of finding out my schedule just to ambush me?” He chuckled derisively. “But don’t forget, I respond to kindness, not coercion. Trying to beg Director Davies now? Too late!” Eliza giggled, playfully shaking Ryan’s arm. “Oh, Ryan, don’t be like that. This is Ms. Marston’s sincere effort!” Seeing them play off each other, Director Davies looked a bit uncomfortable. I just found it amusing. “Ryan, I never regretted replacing you as the lead.” My voice was calm, yet cutting. “After all, with your acting skills, you wouldn’t win an Oscar even if you were the lead.” Ryan’s face instantly changed, turning angry. “Scarlett, are you still speaking out of spite?” He glared at me. “Just because you’re jealous, you’re going to threaten me with my job?” I met Ryan’s gaze directly. “You know very well that I never let personal emotions interfere with my work.” Seeing that I was serious, Ryan’s face hardened. “In that case, don’t you dare regret this!” Watching their defiant backs as they left, I remembered the time Ryan got his first lead role through his own hard work. He had excitedly hugged me, his youthful spirit shining in his eyes. “Sister, thank you for giving me the audition opportunity!” He’d beamed. “I promise to become famous everywhere, and I won’t let you down!” But once he did become famous, he grew increasingly impatient with me. “Acting lessons? I don’t have time, don’t schedule them anymore.” Later, he’d snapped, “Scarlett, are you done yet? Can’t you just pay to fix these minor issues?” A wave of bitterness washed over me. I rubbed my temples wearily and continued discussing with Director Davies. Director Davies looked at me with a complex expression. “Ms. Marston, are you really not considering Ryan Bright anymore?” He sighed. “His temperament and appearance truly match the male lead perfectly.” He added, “Although his acting needs some work, I’m confident I can help him transform.” I didn’t answer. Instead, I pulled out my phone and showed Director Davies a video. The doubt in his eyes gradually gave way to delight, eventually turning into pure joy. He slapped his thigh repeatedly, exclaiming, “That’s him! That’s the male lead I’ve always envisioned!” The next day, photos of Ryan Bright and Eliza Sterling entering and leaving a hotel hit the trending topics. Ryan’s fans were mostly “girlfriend fans”; with the scandal, many major fan accounts deserted him. Everyone at the company assumed I would step in to protect him, but I did nothing.

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1 My mother was dying. Her last wish was to see me married. I begged Amelia for twenty-seven days, and finally, she agreed to marry me. I waited at the registry office until closing, but she never showed. That very day, however, Amelia’s childhood friend, David Marlowe, posted their marriage certificate on social media: “Time flies, three more days and it’ll be a month since we got married.” It was then I realized that the day I first begged Amelia, she had already eloped with her childhood friend. At that moment, I received an apology text from Amelia. “Ian, David is being pressured into marriage by his family. I can’t just watch him settle for anyone, trapped in a cage.” “We’ll be divorced in three days.” “I’ll marry you after that.” Three days later, when Amelia, in her wedding dress, appeared at the registry office entrance, She only received my message. “Amelia, goodbye forever.” In the morgue, I looked at my mother’s face, tears streaming down. My mother raised me alone and never asked me for anything. But I couldn’t even fulfill her last wish. Knowing my mother was gravely ill, I begged Amelia, my girlfriend of six years, to marry me, hoping to show my mother that I wouldn’t be alone after she was gone. I pleaded with her for twenty-seven days. But Amelia always found excuses. The first day, her childhood friend’s car broke down, and she rushed to pick him up. The second day, she was helping her childhood friend move, so she had no time. … The twenty-sixth day, her childhood friend had a stomachache, and she hurried to take care of him. If David hadn’t posted that marriage certificate today, I would still be in the dark. I had imagined a thousand reasons for Amelia, but I never thought she would already be married. Kneeling by my mother’s hospital bed, I stayed until evening, when Amelia called. Her voice, as always, was gentle: “It’s so late, why aren’t you home yet? Where are you, I’ll come pick you up.” I opened my mouth, but no words came out. In the past, I would have pretended to be angry, let her coax me, and then happily waited for her. But now, I couldn’t utter a single gentle word to her. Amelia’s voice held a touch of urgency: “Ian, where are you now?” “The hospital.” Amelia paused, as if just remembering I had been taking care of my mother these days. “I… wait for me, I’ll come to the hospital to be with you.” The call ended, and I forced myself to get up, fighting back the grief, to arrange my mother’s funeral. But ten minutes later, she sent another message: 【Ian, I need to accompany David to deal with his parents. I’ll definitely visit your mother next time!】 I wasn’t surprised. Because for the past two years, the phrase I heard most from her was: 【Next time, for sure.】 Missed our anniversary, will make it up next time. Bailed on meeting my mother, will come next time. Declined to marry me, will be free tomorrow. She knew I would forgive her, which is why she hurt me so carelessly. But this time, there would be no next time. Because my mother wouldn’t have another chance. And I wouldn’t forgive her again. That night, I didn’t go home, staying at the hospital instead. Amelia also sent messages all night and called countless times. I didn’t look, nor did I answer. The next day, I arrived at the company early to prepare my resignation. Amelia was the company’s founder. I was just an ordinary designer. I had been with her since she had nothing, building the company together. Now, my position in the company had become insignificant. Even if I disappeared, Amelia wouldn’t notice. Just as I was printing my resignation, Amelia suddenly appeared behind me. Under her gaze, I calmly took the resignation in my hand. She looked at me, her tone gentle: “Finished printing?” “Yes.” Amelia looked at me, seemingly oblivious to my coldness. She cleared her throat: “Ian, come with me for a moment.” The moment Amelia called me away, my colleagues immediately started whispering. “Did you know? Ms. Reed is already married.” “Really? No wonder Ian and Ms. Reed kept their relationship secret, all sneaky about it. Turns out he’s the other man.” “Ian always said he hated home-wreckers, acting like a saint while being a slut.” My father abandoned my mother and me for another woman, causing us half a lifetime of suffering. But now, thanks to Amelia, I was being called the other man. In the office, Amelia tried to hug me. I stepped back: “Ms. Reed, this is the company.” Amelia frowned. “Don’t be angry. How about I go with you to see your mother tonight?” I shook my head. “It’s no longer necessary.” My mother was dead, and I didn’t want her to see Amelia. If she knew I was being called the other man because of Amelia, She would definitely be angry with me. Amelia seemed to sense my slight change. After a moment of silence, she spoke: “Two more days, and I’ll be divorced from David. Then, we can get married.” With that, she handed me a gift box. “This is ginseng I prepared for your mother, specifically to nourish her body.” I looked at the ginseng, a little dazed. Her intentions came a little too late. My mother no longer needed it. Seeing my silence, a hint of anxiety flashed in Amelia’s eyes, and she was about to speak. A sudden ringing phone interrupted Amelia’s thoughts. Amelia took out her phone, glanced at me, Hesitated for a moment, then left. I knew it was David calling. After all, he was Amelia’s legal husband now. My heart felt no ripple. After all, I no longer cared. After that, I submitted my resignation. Facing my sudden resignation request, Vice President Johnson seemed prepared. “Ian, I’m sure Ms. Reed will arrange things for you.” I bit my lip, feeling a little absurd. It seemed everyone had decided I was Amelia’s kept man at the company. She had prepared everything for me. But they refused to believe I was Amelia’s legitimate boyfriend, and that I was heartbroken and ready to leave. Leaving the company, I ran into Amelia and David at the elevator. Seeing me, Amelia’s eyes flickered, and she instinctively began to explain: “Don’t misunderstand, I brought David here to…” Before she finished, David put his arm around her shoulder: “To tour my wife’s company.” I didn’t speak. Then, David spoke again: “Ian, you don’t mind, do you?” David looked at me with a provocative smirk. I silently stepped out of the elevator, making way for them. Amelia looked at me, her eyes filled with hesitation, wanting to say something, But David pulled her away. In the afternoon, at the crematorium, I watched my mother turn into a wisp of ash. I laid her to rest in the cemetery. Until night fell. Amelia didn’t appear, nor did she send a single message. I didn’t care. Without her disturbance, my mother could rest more peacefully. I imagined my mother’s spirit in heaven wouldn’t want me to be entangled with her anymore. And certainly wouldn’t want to see me marry her. Our six years together, it was time for it to end completely. Leaving the cemetery, I walked all the way home. It had been a long time since I walked alone at night. Before, I held my mother’s hand. Later, Amelia linked her arm through mine. From now on, I would walk alone. I thought I would get used to it. I didn’t get home until after midnight. The living room light was on, and Amelia was messaging on the sofa. Seeing me enter, Amelia’s furrowed brow smoothed, and she immediately rushed over, trying to grab my hand: “Where have you been? You didn’t answer your phone or my messages, I was about to call the police, do you know that?!” I froze for a moment, then pulled free from Amelia’s hand. “I was with my mother, I didn’t want her to be disturbed.” Hearing me mention my mother, Amelia remembered what she had said earlier, and a look of guilt crossed her face. She suddenly looked at me expectantly, and solemnly pulled out a box for me. I instinctively took it and opened the box; inside was a pair of wedding rings. I suddenly froze. Once, Amelia had confidently held my hand. She promised we would wear our wedding rings, holding our marriage certificate, and let my mother witness our happiness. I waited countless days, hoped countless times. But that was before. I closed the box and handed it back. Amelia frowned slightly, as if she realized something, and said somewhat awkwardly: “It’s past midnight now, just one more day, and I can divorce David.” “Don’t worry, I’ve always remembered my promise.” “Tomorrow, we’ll put the rings on each other, and then we’ll go get married.” I wasn’t moved by her sweet talk, merely stating: “Alright, I understand. I’m a bit tired, I’m going to rest now.” Amelia’s smile froze, realizing for the first time my perfunctory tone. A hint of panic flashed in her eyes, and she reached for my hand. Just then, David, wearing my pajamas, walked out of the bedroom. He blinked sleepily at me, then immediately stepped forward, putting his arm around Amelia’s shoulder, whining: “Amelia, Ian’s back, let’s go to bed.” Amelia quickly looked at me, explaining: “David had an argument with his family, I let him stay in the guest room for the night.” With that, Amelia stared intently at me, seemingly afraid I would misunderstand. I nodded, saying indifferently: “It’s fine, I can stay at my mother’s place for the night.” Amelia froze, seemingly surprised by my quick agreement. But David didn’t give me a chance to change my mind, triumphantly turning and rushing back into the room. As I pulled my suitcase, ready to leave, Amelia still stood in the living room. She pursed her lips, clutching my hand tightly, refusing to let go, The guilt in her eyes deepened, Finally, amidst David’s urging, she spoke: “Tomorrow, after we get married, we’ll go see your mother together.” At dawn, I packed everything and returned to the company for my final handover. The moment I stepped into the company, colleagues looked at me with strange expressions, and after I passed, they whispered and pointed behind my back. It wasn’t until I saw David sitting at my desk that I understood the reason for this bizarre atmosphere. Everyone was staring at their computer screens, yet their eyes couldn’t help but dart towards this volatile scene. Seeing me arrive, David looked at me arrogantly: “I’m starting today, I’ll sit here, you go somewhere else.” I looked at him, nodding calmly. “Okay, I’ll pack up my things.” We spoke very calmly, but seeing my demeanor, My colleagues at the company all thought I was guilty after seeing David, the rightful spouse. But due to the presence of both David and me, the main parties, no one dared to say much. They just typed on their computers, expressing their disdain for me. I also wanted to clarify things, but I didn’t know how to begin. After all, David was indeed Amelia’s legally married husband. Any more words from me would only bring self-humiliation. As I finished packing and was about to leave, Amelia walked over. Seeing me carrying my luggage, her expression tightened. “Where are you going?” “I…” David spoke first: “Make way for me, I like sitting here.” Seeing me about to leave, Amelia quickly grabbed my arm. “No, this is your spot, no one can…” Before she could finish, I interrupted directly: “If he likes it, let him have it.” After all, I had already resigned; who sat here was none of my business. Amelia, however, froze, her expression obscured. It was only after my back, carrying the box, disappeared that she came to her senses. Amelia pushed aside David, who was humming and tidying the desk, then, in front of everyone, slapped him across the face: “Did I fake marry you, making you think you could walk all over me?!” “Have you forgotten, I warned you not to mess with Ian.” After leaving the company, I received a text message from Amelia. [Tomorrow at the registry office entrance, I’ll wait for you.] [The specialist I hired for your mother will arrive tomorrow.] [After we get married, we’ll go see your mother together.] I smiled, a sudden bitterness. Amelia, goodbye. I took all my luggage and headed to the airport. The next day, Amelia stood at the registry office entrance, holding her freshly issued divorce certificate.

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I had just moved in when the college student across the hall called the police, accusing me of stalking her in the shower out of jealous rage. When the police arrived, she cried, tears streaming down her face, and pointed a finger at me, yelling: “Pervert! Every night you spy on me with binoculars and post my photos online!” “I saw it all! Your eyes are so lecherous, it’s disgusting!” The neighbors around us pointed fingers at me, some even shoved me, calling me the scum of society. “This kind of creep should be chemically castrated!” “He looks so decent, who knew he was a peeping tom!” Facing a barrage of accusations, I took off my sunglasses, revealing two deep, hollow eye sockets. “Officer, how can a blind man, with no sight, spy on anyone?” 1 My voice was soft, but it pierced the noisy air in the room like an ice pick. The neighbors who had just been pushing and shouting at me froze. The middle-aged woman leading the charge held her hand mid-air, forgetting to lower it. Everyone’s gaze focused on my face. Or rather, on the two empty, hollow sockets where my eyes used to be. They were an indelible mark left by a fire three years ago. The lead police officer, a seasoned veteran named Detective Miller, paused, then frowned, his tone full of impatience. “Don’t pull that act with me!” “We’ll know if you’re truly blind after a hospital examination!” Amy Lestat, the girl across the hall, stopped crying for a moment, then burst into even sharper wails. “He’s lying! He’s just trying to get away with it!” “How can he not see! He stands by the window every night watching me! Those eyes… those eyes…” She seemed to want to describe my eyes but was too terrified by my empty sockets to speak, merely pointing at me, trembling all over. “Disgusting! So disgusting!” Her shouts stirred the neighbors into a fresh commotion. “Right! He must be faking it!” “What won’t criminals do these days? To escape punishment, he’d even claim to be blind!” A young man, filled with righteous indignation, even rushed forward, trying to grab my collar. “You scum, I’ll deliver justice today!” Detective Miller held him back. “What do you think you’re doing! Everyone calm down! We’ll handle this!” He turned to me, his suspicion and disgust undiminished. “Come with us.” I didn’t resist, calmly extending my hands. A cold touch embraced my wrists. I was flanked by two young officers, led towards the elevator. Behind me, Amy’s cries and the neighbors’ curses blended into a cacophony. “Scum of society!” “Get out of our neighborhood!” “Hope you rot in jail!” I could “see” the self-righteous expressions on their faces. And “hear” the pleasure in their words as they trampled someone into the mud. As we entered the elevator, the metal doors slowly closed, cutting off the outside clamor. One young officer, probably new to the force, couldn’t help but whisper to me. “Are you… are you really blind?” I twitched the corner of my mouth, not answering. The other officer patted his shoulder, signaling him to keep quiet. But I knew their scales of judgment had already tipped entirely towards the tearful girl. After all, a young, pretty, pitiful college student. A sunglasses-wearing, suspicious man living alone. To them, it was clear who was the victim and who was the aggressor. Only they didn’t know. Sometimes, what the eyes see is the biggest lie. And I, a blind man, “saw” what none of them did. For instance, Amy’s steady, unruffled heartbeat when she accused me. 2 The interrogation room at the police station. The fluorescent lights shone brightly, and the air smelled musty. I sat on a cold metal chair, facing Detective Miller and a female officer taking notes. “Name.” “Lucas Rochester.” “Age.” “Twenty-eight.” “Occupation.” “Unemployed.” Detective Miller slammed his pen on the table, creating a jarring sound. “Lucas Rochester, I advise you to confess honestly!” “With witness and material evidence present, how much longer do you intend to argue?” I faced his direction and calmly asked. “Excuse me, who is the witness? What is the material evidence?” “The witness is the victim, Amy Lestat! The material evidence…” Detective Miller paused, apparently finding it somewhat tricky. “We are currently searching for the material evidence! Don’t think you’re off the hook just because you don’t admit it!” He intensified his tone, trying to overwhelm me with his presence. “Amy Lestat has told us everything! You only moved in a week ago, and you already harbored ill intentions towards her. Every night at eight, when she showers, you use binoculars to peek at her from across the way!” “You even secretly photographed her and posted her pictures on foreign websites for profit!” “This behavior constitutes a serious crime! Confess now, and you might receive leniency!” I almost burst out laughing. Well-crafted. Time, place, tool, motive—all perfectly laid out. If I weren’t the person involved, I almost would have believed it. “Detective Miller.” I spoke, interrupting his lengthy monologue. “First, I don’t own binoculars.” “Second, I don’t have a tool for the crime. My computer and phone were replaced with blind-accessible versions three years ago and have no camera function.” “Third, and most importantly.” I said, enunciating each word. “I am blind.” Detective Miller’s breathing noticeably grew heavier. “I told you, don’t use that as an excuse! We will take you for an examination to confirm if you’re truly blind!” “Until the results are in, you are the primary suspect!” Just then, the interrogation room door was pushed open, and a young officer peeked his head in. “Captain Miller, the victim is very agitated, keeps crying, and says she’ll report us to your superiors, claiming we’re shielding a criminal.” Detective Miller’s face darkened. “Understood.” He waved the young officer away, then glared fiercely at me. Of course, I couldn’t see his glare, but I could hear the grinding of his teeth. “Lucas Rochester, do you know that because of you, we’re under a lot of pressure right now?” “She’s a university student from a prestigious school, with high public attention. If this isn’t handled well, our entire precinct will face criticism!” I understood. More than the truth, he cared about defusing the situation. And the easiest way to defuse the situation was for me to plead guilty. “So, to prevent you from being criticized, I should confess to something I didn’t do?” My tone grew cold. Detective Miller seemed provoked by my attitude. “What kind of attitude is that! Who do you think you are?” “Let me tell you, once you’re in here, if you’re a dragon, you coil; if you’re a tiger, you crouch!” “You refuse to confess, do you? Fine! We have plenty of ways to make you talk!” He stood up, looking down at me. “Lock him up first! Once the search warrant comes, go search his place thoroughly!” “I don’t believe we won’t find any evidence!” The door opened, and two officers entered, once again grabbing my arms. I didn’t struggle. I knew that from the moment Amy called the police, I had fallen into a carefully crafted trap. Since they dared to do this, they must have been fully prepared. Next, they would “find” the so-called “evidence” in my home. And I would be thoroughly nailed to the pillar of shame. 3 The cold iron door clanged shut behind me, echoing heavily. I was locked in a temporary holding cell. The room was small, with only a hard cot and a toilet. The air was thick with the scent of disinfectant mixed with despair. I fumbled my way to the bed and sat down, quietly listening to the sounds outside. Footsteps of officers pacing back and forth echoed in the corridor, interspersed with hushed conversations. “Is that the peeping pervert?” “Looks decent enough, but he’s utterly disgusting.” “He’s supposedly blind, but I bet he’s faking it.” “Who knows? Anyway, he’s finished now. Of all people to cross, he had to cross a college student.” These voices, like countless tiny needles, pricked my ears. I had long been accustomed to darkness, but for the first time, it felt so chillingly cold. After about two hours, the iron door opened again. It was Detective Miller. He held a transparent evidence bag in his hand, a triumphant smile on his face. He dangled the evidence bag in front of me. “Lucas Rochester, look what this is?” He seemed to forget I couldn’t see. He revealed the answer himself, his voice full of satisfaction. “Under your windowsill, we found this!” “A pair of military-grade binoculars!” “And this!” He took out another evidence bag, containing a digital camera. “Inside the camera, we found a large number of candid photos of Amy Lestat! Various angles! Indecent!” “Now, what do you have to say?” I remained silent. Inside, however, a storm raged. They were fast. So quickly, they had prepared all the “evidence.” Detective Miller saw my silence and assumed I had conceded. He pulled up a chair, sat opposite me, and spoke in a tone as if lecturing a misbehaving junior. “Lucas Rochester, Lucas Rochester, I ask you, so young, good-looking too, why choose such sordid acts when you could do anything else?” “Now the evidence is conclusive, denying it is useless.” “Just sign and put your fingerprint, and I can still plead with the prosecutor for you, so you get a lighter sentence.” He pushed a document and an inkpad towards me. “Come on, put your fingerprint, finish this early, it’s good for everyone.” I could “hear” the perfunctory and impatient tone in his voice. He didn’t care about the truth at all. He just wanted to close the case quickly. I slowly lifted my head, facing him. “Detective Miller, if I put my fingerprint, does that mean I admit to all the charges?” “Of course!” “Will I be sentenced for sexual assault and disseminating obscene materials?” “Yes, with multiple charges combined, at least three years, to begin with.” “Will my name, my life, forever be branded as a ‘sexual predator’ and ‘pervert’?” Detective Miller’s patience seemed to have run out. “Why are you so verbose! This is your own doing! Who else can you blame?” I smiled. My laughter sounded particularly eerie in the empty holding cell. “Yes, who else can I blame?” I murmured to myself. Then, I reached out, fumbling for the transcript. Just as Detective Miller thought I would press my fingerprint, I used all my strength to tear the transcript into shreds. The paper scraps fell like snowflakes. Detective Miller was stunned; he hadn’t expected me to dare to do such a thing. “You… you’re crazy!” He stood up abruptly, pointing at my nose and yelling. “This is resisting arrest! An aggravated offense!” Facing his rage, I spoke each word clearly. “I didn’t do it, and I won’t admit to a single word.” “You can fabricate evidence, you can beat confessions out of people, but you will not make me bow down.” “You want me to confess? Over my dead body.” My words were like a resounding slap, hitting Detective Miller hard across the face. His face turned from red to green, then green to purple. “Good! Good! Good!” He repeated “good” three times, trembling with rage. “You’ve got guts! I’ll see just how tough you are!” He turned and stormed out, roaring at the door. “Guards! Cuff him! Request formal detention!” “I’ll make sure he learns what the dignity of the law means!” Soon, two officers rushed in, roughly dragging me off the bed. Cold handcuffs again clamped onto my wrists, this time tighter than before, cutting into my skin. They pushed and shoved me, making me stumble forward. Just then, my phone rang. It was the monotone electronic sound typical of blind-accessible phones. One officer impatiently reached to hang up. But I spoke. “Let me answer.” My voice held an undeniable calm. The officers paused, surprised. Detective Miller yelled: “Answer what! Take him away!” “If this call delays the ‘truth’ you seek, the consequences are yours.” My words made Detective Miller stop. He looked at me suspiciously. Finally, he motioned for his subordinate to hand me the phone. I fumbled and pressed the answer button. On the other end, a cold yet familiar female voice spoke. “Lucas Rochester, I am your landlady. I demand you vacate my property within three days.” “I don’t want a disgusting pervert living in my apartment.” 4 The voice on the other end of the phone belonged to my landlady, Ms. Jenkins. Her voice, through the receiver, was cold as ice. “Ms. Jenkins, it’s not what you think.” I tried to explain. “I don’t want to hear it!” She brutally cut me off. “All I know is, you only moved in a week ago, and you’ve already caused such a scandal!” “Now the entire neighborhood chat group is exploding! Everyone’s cursing me for letting a wolf into the fold!” “How will I rent my apartment out in the future? What about my reputation?” Her voice grew sharper, filled with the anger of being implicated. “Lucas Rochester, I don’t care if you’re a genuine pervert or wrongly accused, I’m giving you three days!” “If you’re not moved out in three days, I’ll hire someone to throw all your belongings out!” With that, she slammed the phone down. Silence once again fell over the holding cell. Detective Miller showed a hint of schadenfreude. “Heard that? It doesn’t feel good to be abandoned by everyone, does it?” He winked at his subordinate. “Take him away!” I was escorted, walking through the long corridor. This time, no one whispered. They just looked at me with expressions of utter contempt. I was shoved into a police car, heading for the city detention center. There, I would await the so-called judgment. Outside the car window, the city’s clamor gradually faded. I leaned against the cold car wall, feeling the vibrations of the vehicle. Despair, like a tide, surged from all directions, threatening to drown me. Just then, another voice suddenly echoed in my mind. A calm, efficient, emotionless female voice. “Mr. Rochester, I am Quinn Vance, a lawyer from the City Legal Aid Center.” “Your case is now assigned to me.” I froze. Legal aid? I hadn’t applied for it. “The police applied for you.” As if guessing my question, the lawyer named Quinn explained. “According to regulations, in your situation, a lawyer must be present.” I understood. This was just a formality. A mere procedural step. This lawyer, Quinn, probably already assumed I was guilty, just like Detective Miller and his team. All she had to do was persuade me to plead guilty, then sign a stack of papers. “I have nothing to say.” My voice was dry and tired. “I am innocent.” Silence on the other end of the line for a few seconds. I expected her to launch into a lengthy lecture, just like Detective Miller. But she didn’t. She simply spoke in a matter-of-fact tone. “I’ve reviewed your situation with the police.” “Binoculars and a camera with candid photos were found at the scene, the victim’s accusations are vivid, and multiple neighbors can testify to your suspicious behavior.” “All evidence is heavily against you.” Every word she spoke was like a hammer, striking my heart. “If you insist on not pleading guilty, once the trial begins, and the judge accepts this evidence, your sentence will only be harsher.” I closed my eyes, my deeply sunken eye sockets dry. “So, you’re also here to persuade me to plead guilty?” “No.” Quinn’s answer surprised me. “I’m not here to persuade you to plead guilty. I am your lawyer, and my duty is to protect your legal rights.” “I now need you to answer a few questions. Please be absolutely truthful.” Her voice was as calm as a precise instrument. “First, are those binoculars and that camera yours?” “No.” “Second, did you know the plaintiff, Amy Lestat, previously? Or have any contact with her?” “No, no contact.” “Third, besides your eyes, are your other senses, such as hearing, more acute than an average person’s?” This question stirred something within me. She was the first person to notice other changes in my body. “Yes.” “Good.” A subtle, almost imperceptible tremor seemed to enter Quinn’s voice. “Mr. Rochester, the police will transfer you to the city detention center in half an hour. Before that, they will ask you to sign a criminal detention notice.” “Do not sign anything.” “Wait for me.” The call ended. I held my phone, and despite the cold in my hands, a bead of sweat formed. Hope. In the endless darkness and despair, this woman named Quinn gave me a faint glimmer of hope. Though this hope was as small as a candle flame in the wind, liable to extinguish at any moment. The police car stopped. I was led into an office, where Detective Miller threw a document in front of me. “Sign it!” I shook my head. “My lawyer will be here soon. I won’t sign anything before she arrives.” Detective Miller’s face instantly turned purple with rage. “Lawyer? You can afford a lawyer?” He acted as if he’d heard the biggest joke. “Let me tell you, it’s useless! No one can save you!” He grabbed my hand, trying to force my fingerprint onto the document. Just then, the office door was violently pushed open. A woman in a professional suit, with an upright posture, walked in. She glanced at the scene in the room, her brow slightly furrowed. “Stop.” Her voice was soft, but it carried an undeniable authority. “I am Lucas Rochester’s defense attorney, Quinn Vance.” “Any coercive action on your part, when my client has explicitly refused to sign, is illegal.” Detective Miller’s face turned from green to pale as he looked at the suddenly appearing Quinn. He released my hand, scrutinizing the powerful woman, his tone unfriendly: “Who are you? Who let you in?” Quinn took a power of attorney and her lawyer’s badge from her briefcase, placing them directly on the table. “Appointed by the City Legal Aid Center. These are my credentials and authorization. Now, I demand to meet my client immediately and privately.”

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When the Everdeen family went bankrupt, I fled from debt, working three jobs a day, barely eating or sleeping, yet still being beaten by creditors. After a phone call, I returned to Kyoto. But it was right when Adrian Collins was about to get engaged. Everyone thought I hadn’t given up on Adrian and was back to ruin his engagement with Clara Thorne. “Eleanor, you still haven’t given up?” “Adrian never liked you; he’s always loved Clara.” The warnings, the unprovoked beatings, I could barely catch my breath. And Adrian Collins, the man I once loved beyond measure, merely watched it all, his eyes burning with hatred for me. I sneered, wiping the blood from the corner of my mouth. “You’re overthinking it. Not long ago, a mystic told me I’m a lone star, destined for no marriage.” His hand, however, trembled slightly. 1 The train arrived in Kyoto. Stepping out of the station, I immediately saw the tall, imposing figure of Adrian Collins beside a Maybach. He looked impatient waiting. I walked over. “Adrian.” The handsome man paused, surprised. I lowered my head, clenching my hands. I knew he hadn’t expected the thin, impoverished-looking person before him to be Eleanor Everdeen, once the young lady of the Everdeen family. Facing his cold gaze, I forced a smile. “Are you really… Eleanor,” Then, he impatiently corrected himself. “Taking a train instead of flying.” After we got in the car, the compartment remained quiet. He drove in the front. I sat in the back. Three years ago, I used to talk a lot, constantly wanting to be around him. He always wore a cold expression. He disliked me greatly. Now, I rarely speak. Given the chance, I’d rather just curl up and sleep for a while. The car was clean and spacious. In the passenger seat, there was a tiny, small plush toy tucked away. I turned to look out the window. If I wasn’t mistaken, that seat now exclusively belonged to his fiancée, Clara Thorne. When I first got in the car, I had intended to sit in the passenger seat, but realizing my mistake, I immediately retracted my hand. 2 I pursed my lips tightly. I don’t know when it started, but I was always afraid, so afraid that even my own breathing felt like it might disturb someone. “Don’t you have anything to ask?” I turned my head, meeting Adrian’s gaze in the rearview mirror. “I…” Ask what? I really don’t seem to have anything to ask, or rather, I’m not interested in anything anymore. “Adrian…” He immediately cut me off. “Just call me by my name. We’re not that close. You’re only back because Grandma is seriously ill and wants to see you. Don’t try to claim kinship.” My lips froze in mid-air. Soon, though, I nodded. “Is Grandma Collins very ill?” He didn’t answer, but his expression tightened a little, the meaning clear. I clenched my hands, wondering, are all the people who genuinely cared for me in this world leaving? 3 When I arrived, Grandma Collins was in a deep sleep. I sat beside her, numerous machines attached to her. I held her hand, warming it with my body heat. She finally showed a slight reaction, gently squeezing my hand back. “Grandma Collins.” I whispered, my voice thick with emotion. “Butler, take her to wash up first.” After being on the train for over thirty hours, Adrian was clearly tired of seeing me like this. Looking at the spacious bathtub, I lost myself in thought. “Miss Everdeen, you can take off your clothes now.” I was startled. “Aunt Sarah, please step out for a moment.” The memory felt distant. Aunt Sarah was good at scrubbing backs; as a child, I often pestered her to help me. She closed the door behind her. My hand, reaching to remove my clothes, paused. “Young Master, Miss Everdeen said she’d wash herself, no need for me to scrub her back.” “Hmph, keep an eye on her. She looks like she crawled out of a mud pit.” I was stunned for two seconds. I took off my clothes. The mirror immediately revealed the crisscrossing scars on my body. My hand slowly moved down, resting on my waist, on the centipede-like knife scar. It still hurt a lot. After all, a forced liver transplant had been performed here. A shabby clinic. So much pain. So much pain. 4 After washing, I walked out, almost colliding with Adrian. I quickly stepped back and looked up. He looked down with cold eyes. “Don’t you have any better clothes? Eleanor, are you deliberately dressing so shabbily so Grandma will pity you when she wakes up?” I was momentarily dazed. “Sorry, I didn’t bring any better clothes, but these are very clean.” Aunt Sarah was surprised. “These clothes don’t look too big, Miss Everdeen. How do they look so oversized on you?” I looked up. Adrian also watched me coldly. I smiled. “I overdid my diet a bit. I’ll regain the weight in a few days.” Aunt Sarah was astonished: “Dieting, you mean?” Just then, Adrian’s phone rang. He took it out. We both glimpsed the caller ID: Clara. A gaze instantly fell on me. Adrian had already answered. “Adrian, do you want to have dinner together tomorrow night?” “Tomorrow night, fine.” I stepped out, heading down the hallway. Only a few sconces were lit, the light not very bright. Standing there, however, I felt more at ease. Once upon a time, I preferred dimmer places to bright ones, as if I could hide myself, remain unnoticed. Inside the bedroom, the call wasn’t over yet. Compared to how he used to barely answer my calls, or how cold he was when he did, Adrian was completely different with Clara Thorne. But all these things happened three years ago, and still, whenever I think of them, I feel a chill run through me. I didn’t understand. Three years ago, I was desperate, my head bleeding, yet he refused to even temporarily take me in at the Collins family home. With my father’s nearly ten million in debt, I was pushed into an endless abyss. Unable to live, unable to die. 5 Adrian walked out. Our eyes met. His gaze pierced through me. “Ever since you came back, you seem to be heavily preoccupied. Are you really planning something, incapable of changing your ways?” “What?” I completely didn’t understand what he was talking about. “You’re overthinking it. I’m just wondering which room I’ll be sleeping in tonight.” “Indeed, you’ll never change. If I can’t see through a liar like you, then I don’t deserve to be the CEO of Collins Group.” His eyes were fiercely intense, capable of seeing through everything. I took a step back. “Adrian, can I still call you Adrian? I don’t mean anything else; I just feel it’s a respectful way to address you.” “And I hope you can rest assured, whatever I might be thinking, it has nothing to do with you, nor will I yearn for what I shouldn’t.” He closed in on me, grabbing my throat. “Is that so? You used to be very good with your words, only to turn around and cause trouble for Clara.” “Eleanor, you’re the most two-faced person I’ve ever met.” I struggled to breathe, falling into extreme agony. I was only released when my eyes rolled back. “Cough…” I leaned against the wall, watching him with red-rimmed eyes, wanting to say, did you really investigate? But what came out was merely. “Perhaps I should stay elsewhere. I’ll come see Grandma tomorrow.” I leaned against the wall, heading downstairs, my legs weak. After a few steps, I was pulled back. “What’s with the act? When Grandma wakes and sees you, you can leave when the time is right.” He strode downstairs, quickly leaving the old mansion. 6 The next day, Grandma Collins was lucid for a while. She held my hand, repeatedly calling out, “Sweetheart.” I turned my head, wiping away tears. “Grandma, you must get well. You haven’t accompanied Eleanor to watch the sunset yet.” Grandma just smiled, offering no response. Soon, she fell back into a deep coma. Grandma didn’t wake up for a long time. My body couldn’t hold up, so I went back to my room for a nap. I was woken by a commotion in the hall. I came out. Facing away, a perfect couple, a handsome man and a beautiful woman, stood in the hall. “Adrian, where’s Eleanor?” The man turned sideways. Clara Thorne looked at me, stunned, “Eleanor?” She came over and took my hand: “Eleanor, it really is you. You’re so thin now.” I looked down and saw the emerald green imperial jade bracelet on her fair wrist. This was the Collins family’s heirloom bracelet; Grandma Collins passed it to Adrian’s mother, who had now given it to Clara Thorne. “What’s wrong? Why aren’t you speaking?” Suddenly, a sharp, warning gaze shot my way. Adrian had always been unwilling to let her suffer even a little grievance. I forced a smile. “Are you going to see Grandma Collins? She’s upstairs.” She looked up. “Okay, I’ll be down later. Adrian and I have a restaurant booked tonight. You should come with us too.” Clara Thorne went upstairs with hurried steps. In the hall, I turned my head away, avoiding that warning gaze. But still, I couldn’t help but ask. “Are you getting married soon?” He sneered: “You’re quite concerned about these things, still claiming you’re not plotting anything?” “Eleanor, I’m warning you, if you dare to hurt Clara again, I’ll make sure you die without a burial place.” My breath caught, even feeling painful, but in the end, I just said lightly. “You really overestimate me; I don’t have that capability at all.” 7 In the evening, I didn’t go to dinner with them. Instead, I told Aunt Sarah I was going out to work. Penniless. The debt collectors, if I didn’t pay them for a day, I would be brutally beaten. I had no choice. I went to a bar and worked as a server. But just as I left the bar, the debt collectors caught up to me and snatched the money. “Leave me some, I need to take a ride.” I grabbed the person leaving. He turned, kicking me viciously. “You earned so little, and you want me to leave you some?” I lay on the ground. My whole body convulsed with pain. “Pah.” “Don’t forget, we let you come back to borrow money from the Everdeen family to pay off your father’s debt to us.” “Otherwise, you know, you wouldn’t have made it back alive.” Another kick landed on my face. I lay helplessly on the ground. At this moment, I truly wished I were dead. 8 By the time I walked back to the Collins family estate, it was three in the morning. Aunt Sarah, woken from her sleep, opened the door for me and gasped: “Miss Everdeen, what happened to you?” I raised a hand to cover my face. “Nothing, I fell.” Exhausted, I was about to go back to my room to sleep. But a tall figure came down the stairs. I had already sensed who it was, and just wanted to quickly retreat to my room. He hadn’t stayed here last night, why was he here now? “Stop.” I tried to stand in the dimmer light, turning back. “Is there something wrong?” He narrowed his eyes, then took a swift step forward. I was held. “What happened to your face?” His presence was too overwhelming; I grew very nervous and dared not look at him. “I… I fell.” “Fell? Where did you run off to late at night, and you’re only back now, almost dawn?” His grip was strong, and his gaze was menacing. He wore only a black silk pajama, yet it exuded a chilling, captivating aura. I struggled, but he wouldn’t let go. I was already in so much pain, and with him not letting go, I felt like I was being crushed. I don’t know where I found the courage, but I stood on tiptoes, leaning closer to him. “Adrian, are you worried about me? Are you concerned?” His eyes suddenly narrowed. Before I could open my mouth again, I was shoved away. “Shut up, a scheming person like you, is anyone worth caring about?” I was thrown against the wall, my back hitting it again, feeling like my bones were coming apart. I stood in the shadows, watching him turn and stride away. My eyes filled with confusion.

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My best friend and my boyfriend were sworn enemies, yet they became lovers in a game. Everyone thought they’d back out. But my best friend, Lyra, snatched up the wager, her voice brimming with challenge: “What’s wrong, Jim Voldemort? Scared to play now?” “King’s game: whoever breaks up first loses. I advise you to surrender gracefully and call me ‘Dad’ the next time we meet!” Jim Voldemort was so furious he gritted his teeth, adamantly refusing to be the first to break up. They fought from campus to the corporate world. To up the ante, they even adopted a child. From then on, he played the devoted husband, she played the loving mother. And I, Eleanor Vance, had a secret decade-long relationship with Jim Voldemort. Lyra’s mother, unaware of the truth, Still urged them to get married at this year’s New Year’s Eve dinner. “How can parents of a middle schooler not be legally recognized as a family unit?” Lyra skillfully pushed me forward as a shield: “If I get married, what about Eleanor?” Jim chimed in too: “Yes, we can’t bear to leave Eleanor all alone.” They were as in sync as a real married couple. I opened my phone and smiled. “Then you can rest easy.” “My mother has picked eighteen fiancés for me; they’re lining up for me to choose.” This time, Jim’s face completely darkened. 1 In front of them, I directly interviewed those eighteen men. “This young wolf-cub is good; I’ve been into younger men lately.” “That icy guy was decent too; he looks like he’d be caring.” “And…” Only my comments echoed through the private room. Jim Voldemort’s presence was terrifyingly low, his face hinting at a coming storm. My best friend, Lyra Quinn, hugged him tightly, whispering a warning: “Jim, if you dare to mention anything about the game now, I’ll consider you to have completely surrendered.” “My mother has a weak heart; don’t go crazy in front of her!” Lyra, afraid he might actually act rashly, hugged him so tightly it looked like she wanted to break his waist. Jim’s chest heaved, and he unconsciously hooked Lyra’s little finger. This was his little gesture when he was being soothed. Lyra’s mother smiled, watching their intimate interaction. I twitched the corner of my mouth, my throat bitter. It’s laughable, really. These two: one was my secret boyfriend, the other my confidante. They sat on one side, and I sat opposite. Together, we formed a stable triangle. Much like our relationship over these years. On the way home, all three of us were silent. I opened the back door, leaving the passenger seat for Lyra. She paused, then instinctively said: “Alfie has tutoring today, we don’t need to pick him up so early.” I smiled, “It’s fine, I’m used to it.” Alfie was the child Jim and Lyra adopted. He had just started middle school this year and didn’t know his adoptive parents were actually a fake couple. Whenever he was around, they would act as if they were madly in love. The passenger seat, once exclusively mine, was gradually given to Lyra. The glove compartment sometimes held her lipstick and perfume, sometimes Alfie’s toys and homework. My belongings, however, were nowhere to be found. When Lyra first started playing the role of a respectful partner with Jim, she would still hug the toilet, vomiting profusely. Her eyes teary, she’d look at me: “Eleanor, what did you ever see in that dog, Jim?” “Just holding his hand once, I’d want to scrub it eight hundred times with disinfectant.” Jim wouldn’t be outdone. Knowing Lyra hated him for “stealing” me, he’d deliberately pick me up and sit me on his lap during meals, refusing to let me down, just to spite her. It would make Lyra stomp her feet in anger. In those years, the love was real, and the hatred was real. It’s the same now. I pushed Lyra into the passenger seat, saying blandly: “Don’t worry about me. I’m used to sitting in the back now.” No matter how much you dislike something, after doing it a thousand times, you get used to it. Jim frowned, looking a little helpless. “Eleanor, there’s no need to intentionally provoke me by putting on such a show with eighteen different men.” “You know I detest her, and she detests me too.” “There’s really nothing between us.” Lyra quickly nodded. “That’s right, Jim will definitely marry you in the end.” “Besides, didn’t you say you didn’t want to rush into the grave of marriage?” Having acted for so many years, even their expressions of urgency were becoming increasingly similar. They truly looked like a married couple. I climbed into the back seat, looking at the passing scenery outside the window. “Lyra, I said that when I was twenty-three.” “I’m thirty-three now, long past the age of youthful bravado.” Jim’s breath hitched, the veins on his hands, gripping the steering wheel, bulging. “What about me?” His voice was strained, his eyes gradually reddening. “Does someone you loved at twenty-three stop loving you at thirty-three?” 2 I couldn’t answer. So I pretended not to hear. Just as I always pretended not to have witnessed their kiss in the snow a month ago. It was Alfie’s birthday party, and many people were invited to celebrate. In broad daylight, the two of them started arguing about his tutoring class. They’d had some wine, and they started brawling like children. Alfie was terrified and cried uncontrollably. I quickly picked him up and left. After finally calming the child, when I went to the garden to find them, I saw a drunken Jim pinning Lyra down, forcefully kissing her lips despite her struggles. Lyra trembled, then slapped him hard. “Jim Voldemort, look at me and see who I am!” “I’m not Eleanor!” She tried her best to restrain herself, but her voice still carried an uncontrollable sob. Jim stumbled to the ground, his fingers buried deep in his hair. “I know… How could I mistake the two of you?” They looked at each other, their eyes filled with pain, regret, loss… and a hint of undeniable passion. Tears streamed from Lyra’s eyes without warning. She suddenly lunged forward, hugging Jim tightly. Her voice was muffled and desperate: “…Today doesn’t count.” “We were both drunk, so whatever happened, it doesn’t count as betrayal.” Jim fiercely hugged her back, kissing her passionately. I hid in the corner, my hands and feet freezing. Snowflakes landed on my eyelashes, melting into tears that streamed down. At this moment, I also wanted to ask Jim. Would someone you didn’t love at twenty-three be loved at thirty-three? The tangled fate between the three of us dates back a long time. My personality was gentle and timid; I spoke softly. Lyra, however, was domineering and strong, her word was law. Jim liked me the most, so he detested Lyra, who was my opposite. Yet, they were both exceptionally good-looking, academically excellent, and childhood friends. No matter which school they were in, they were a popular, love-hate pairing. However, Lyra strongly disliked being forcibly paired with him, complaining more than once about their blind classmates. Jim, though he didn’t speak, clearly drew boundaries with his actions. I wasn’t mediocre, but among them, I appeared overly unremarkable. At first glance, it seemed like two prominent figures and their little follower. Therefore, when Jim first confessed to me at seventeen, my immediate reaction was disbelief. “Did you lose a game of Truth or Dare?” Jim’s face twisted for a moment, then he walked away in a huff. But from then on, he would stand by our classroom door every day with a flower, publicly declaring his love. Lyra was furious, stomping her feet. Every time she saw him, she couldn’t resist hitting Jim in the face. It wasn’t until I accepted his confession that they finally calmed down. Lyra, while being annoyed, helped us cover up. Later, in college, Lyra changed boyfriends every week, and the annoyed person became Jim. From ideologies to preferences, they had nothing in common. Until the graduation banquet, when that seemingly joking King’s Game emerged. The classmate who drew the King’s card truly had no ill intentions; initially, they just designated Jim and Lyra to be a couple for a week. Like everyone else, I thought one of them would quickly give up and concede. But no one anticipated that they would become competitive, just like when they were children. They held their noses and went on dates, went shopping, performing their deep affection for everyone. A week passed. A month passed. A year passed. Ten years passed. They were still competing. Those in the know started a betting pool on when they would break up. Those unaware praised Mr. Voldemort and Miss Quinn’s deep devotion. And I, just like in my youth, was always overshadowed by their brilliance. No one remembered that Jim and I had a history. 3 A silence filled the car. Jim first dropped Lyra at her house. Without her, Jim and I had even less to talk about. After adopting Alfie, our conversations often revolved around the child. Jim complained that Lyra, a first-time mother, had no idea how to care for a child. Lyra grumbled that Jim was always away, leaving her to raise the child alone. They were still at odds, as always, but to outsiders, it was just minor marital disagreements. I held the title of godmother, but I was a true outsider. Alfie only liked his mom and dad; he didn’t like me. He even thought I was the third wheel in their family. Thinking about it carefully, the rift between us actually appeared very early. From the moment Jim forgot my birthday because of a parent-teacher meeting. From the moment Jim suggested we no longer celebrate our anniversary. From the moment Jim said we needed to be more reserved in front of Alfie. Those cracks were silent, he didn’t notice them, and I couldn’t articulate them. The silence was driving him mad. Back home, Jim impatiently pressed me against the wall. A torrent of kisses rained down. In the throes of passion, I suddenly caught a familiar scent. It was Lyra’s usual perfume. Very faint, but with a strong presence. Just like her. I suddenly felt a wave of nausea, struggled to push him away, And rushed to the bathroom, clutching the toilet, vomiting. Jim’s face went pale. “Eleanor, what did I do wrong?” “You know that everything with Lyra in front of others is just an act.” “I’ve loved you since we were kids.” I couldn’t answer; the severe dehydration made me dizzy. In fact, ever since I caught them kissing, I became suspicious and paranoid. For a while, I even followed Jim. But as Lyra said, they were both drunk that day, and whatever happened was an accident. So it didn’t count as betrayal. I never caught them being intimate again either. But the thorn between us was already there. Every time I saw them together, I couldn’t help but recall that scene. Every day that followed was like being slowly cut by a dull knife. Jim, confused by my coldness, also felt very wronged. But before he could find an answer, Alfie’s school enrollment issues consumed all his attention. So, anything about me was put aside again. Jim saw how sick I was and didn’t press further. We lay on the same bed, he holding me, his fingers unconsciously tapping my arm. When I had nightmares as a child, he would comfort me just like this. Gently, disturbing no one. But how did we end up like this now? Tears silently streamed down, unnoticed by Jim. In the middle of the night, a sharp pain suddenly gripped my abdomen. I nudged Jim awake, my face ashen. “I think I have acute gastroenteritis again.” Jim woke up in a fright, running five red lights on the way, rushing me straight to the hospital. But just at the last intersection, Lyra’s call suddenly came in. “Jim, Alfie seems to be in shock from a fever, what should I do?” Jim slammed on the brakes. I was resting in the back seat and was thrown to the floor. I was in too much pain to speak, only hearing Lyra’s voice, anxious with a hint of a sob. After a while, Jim carried me to the ground outside. “Eleanor, I’ve called you a cab; it’ll be here soon if you wait here.” With that, he hurriedly drove off. In his haste, he almost hit a railing. I watched him leave. In these past few years, it seemed I was always watching his back. But before the driver arrived, I lost consciousness and fainted.

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1 The apocalypse descended, and my ability was [Mascot], allowing zombies around me to act like normal people. I was also the only tool that could keep Zombie Grandma quiet. My older sister and younger brother both had offensive abilities, but they always praised me. “Our Cici is the most capable. As long as you’re home, Grandma, who turned into a zombie, is like a docile cat, never biting anyone. That way, our family gets the institute’s family allowance.” Until the day before New Year’s Eve, the safe zone opened up four hundred spots for a holiday feast! Mom and Dad excitedly packed their bags, then slammed the steel security door shut. “There are only four tickets, Cici. You’re our family’s guardian angel; stay behind and watch Grandma.” “We’ll bring back some packed meat for you.” But they didn’t know. When the New Year’s Eve bell chimed, and they raised their glasses in celebration, I was already being torn apart, flesh and bone, my throat chewed to pieces by a starving Grandma. It turned out my ability only worked when my family was near me. … With a sharp “click” from the heavy steel security door, the last sliver of warm light that had seeped through the crack was completely cut off. I huddled in the corner of the sofa, my voice trembling, looking at the rocking chair opposite. “Grandma, be good, Cici is here.” A hunched figure sat in the rocking chair. Normally, as soon as I spoke, Grandma’s cloudy eyes would stir, then quietly close as she feigned sleep. Everyone in the family said I was a lucky one, having awakened the [Mascot] ability. Although I couldn’t conjure fireballs like my sister, nor slice stones thinly like my brother, I could keep my zombified Grandma rational, preventing her from biting or going mad, allowing her to be kept at home like an old cat. Because of this, the base made an exception, allowing our family to live in the slums with Zombie Grandma, not forcing us to clear her out. But today, something felt wrong. “Hoo, hoo…” The rocking chair stopped swaying. A strange sound, like a broken bellows being pulled, emanated from Grandma’s throat. She slowly turned her head. Her normally grayish-white yet calm pupils now glowed with an eerie blue light in the darkness, and blood vessels in her whites spread wildly like a spiderweb, instantly swallowing the last trace of humanity. Her shriveled mouth slowly opened, saliva mixed with some black, viscous fluid. A nauseating stench of decay instantly overpowered the faint musty smell in the room. “Grandma?” My heart lurched, and I instinctively tried to activate my ability. I desperately tried to conjure that “calming” feeling in my mind, just as I had countless times before, attempting to envelop Grandma’s brain with some invisible frequency. However, nothing happened. That sense of ability, which usually flowed like warm water, was now like stagnant water. No matter how much I screamed and tugged in my mind, it remained motionless. What’s going on? Why did it fail? Grandma’s withered fingers clamped onto the armrest, her nails lengthening and blackening at a visible speed, like ten sharp bone-scrapers. She stood up from the rocking chair. Her movements were no longer the slowness of an elder, but filled with a beast-like stiffness and explosive power. “I’m Cici! Grandma! I’m Cici!” I sprang up from the sofa in terror, backing into the corner. At that moment, my parents’ parting words flashed through my mind like lightning. “You’re our family’s guardian angel…” “As long as you’re home…” No. That’s not right. It’s not just “as long as I’m home.” Every time I’ve calmed Grandma before, my sister, my brother, or Mom and Dad, at least one of them was present. They disliked Grandma’s smell, always staying far away, but they were all under the same roof. Today, it was the first time. Within a five-hundred-meter radius, I was the only one. A flash of white light suddenly went off in my mind. There was no [Mascot] ability at all. The condition for the ability to work was the presence of a blood relative, forming some kind of magnetic resonance. I was the conductor, and my family was the power source. Now, the power was cut, escaping to the safe zone with the dream of braised pork and warmth. Only I, the discarded conductor, was left to face a monster that had been hungry for three years. “ROAR—!!!” Grandma let out a shrill roar, lunging at me. Her speed was like a black lightning bolt. I instinctively raised my arm to block. “Crunch.” Excruciating pain surged through me. The bone in my forearm was snapped clean, blood spurting like a fountain onto Grandma’s pale face. The smell of blood completely ignited her ferocity. Her hands, dry as tree bark, clamped onto my shoulders with astonishing strength, her nails digging deep into my flesh, pinning me to the floor. “Dad… Mom…” I cried out in despair, tears mixing with blood flowing into my mouth. Salty, bitter. Was this the taste of New Year’s Eve? Grandma didn’t give me any more time to think. She opened her mouth, almost torn to her ears, and bit down hard on my throat. “Gush.” The world went quiet. 2 It hurts. It hurts too much. But I couldn’t make a sound. The moment my windpipe was torn, air from my lungs, accompanied by bloody foam, gushed out, leaving me only able to make a “hissing” sound of leaking air. My vision began to blur; everything around me spun and turned red. I saw the family photo on the wall. It was taken before the apocalypse. Dad in a suit, Mom adorned with pearls, my sister and brother in pretty little dresses, smiling brightly. And I, wearing my sister’s hand-me-down school uniform, stood in the very corner, showing only half my face because the photographer said the composition was too crowded. That half-face was now facing me, being torn and bitten on the floor. Grandma was swallowing in large gulps. That was her granddaughter. It was Cici, who bathed her, fed her, and trimmed her nails every day. I wanted to push her away, but my limbs no longer obeyed, only twitching unconsciously on the cold floor like a dying fish. Before my consciousness completely plunged into darkness, I heard sounds from outside the window. “Boom—Crack!” Those were fireworks rising from the direction of the Eden Safe Zone. Even from dozens of kilometers away, I could see the dazzling light illuminating half the night sky. How beautiful. … I don’t know how much time passed. I felt my body become very light, very light. The agonizing pain disappeared, replaced by an utter emptiness and coldness. I floated up. Looking down. The floor was a mess, blood pooled and spread to the entrance. A small, incomplete, emaciated corpse lay there, a huge bloody hole in its neck, stark white bones exposed. And Grandma was squatting beside the corpse, her belly already bulging, her face covered in dark red bloodstains, extending her long tongue, still savoring the bits of flesh between her fingers. A mutated rat poked its head out of the sewer, its beady green eyes greedily staring at my corpse, attempting to come and get a share. “ROAR!” Grandma, in the midst of feeding, suddenly turned her head, letting out a fierce growl at the rat. She was protecting her food. Even after turning into a zombie, she instinctively guarded her “food.” How ironic. When I was alive, I was the most inconspicuous, invisible member of this family. After death, I became the “delicacy” Grandma fiercely protected. My heart was filled with sorrow. Just then, a strange pull came from outside the window. It was as if an invisible rope had tethered my soul. The other end of the rope was connected to the safe zone, to where my “family” was. Although my ability had failed, that “curse” which only activated in the presence of relatives seemed to have transformed into some kind of bond, forcefully pulling me towards them. Fine. If I couldn’t be a guest at the reunion dinner, then I’d be the ghost that ruined it. The safe zone truly lived up to its name. A massive dome shielded against the swirling snow. Four hundred lucky families were gathered, toasting and celebrating. I drifted, pulled by the invisible force, to a round table in the very center. Mom, Dad, my sister, my brother, all wearing the base’s newly issued white protective suits, looked like four bloated and happy silkworms. The hotpot in front of them bubbled warmly. And the moment I saw them, The void in my mind was finally filled. I finally completely understood what my ability truly was. …

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1 Ben took the fall for me, a ten-year prison sentence. Before he went in, he meticulously arranged everything that mattered to him: Sterling Corp, the empire he built from scratch, and the girl he cherished. But for me, his wife of many years, all that was left was a yellowed contract. “You helped me ten years ago. Now I’m serving your time. We’re even, Clara.” I silently watched Ben through the glass. I searched for any flicker of emotion in his eyes, but all I found was cold indifference and a profound sense of relief. It hit me then, a cold, hard truth: he had never loved me. “Alright,” I said, tearing the contract in two. “We’re even.” A week later, I received a call from the prison guard. Ben was dead. He’d encountered the man who almost assaulted me, that monster from my past. To stop him from ever getting out and harassing me, Ben had taken them both down. I hung up, and a gust of cold wind hit me. I realized I’d drifted into the middle of the highway. A massive truck barreled towards me. I was thrown, landing hard in a pool of my own blood. When I woke up again, I was back. Back to before. This time, I wouldn’t let that contract trap him, or me. … I jolted awake, realizing I’d fallen asleep in the car. Cold sweat slicked my forehead. I heard a rustling beside me. I turned, a little disoriented. It was Ben. Calming myself, I realized we were on our way to the Humbert estate, for him to formally propose. In my previous life, I had used that contract to force him into marriage. But I wasn’t satisfied. I insisted he make a proper proposal. That day, just as he sat down, he received a frantic, tearful call from Chloe. He left me without a second thought, abandoning me, which led to my grandfather having a stroke. I took a deep breath, my throat dry. “Pull over. No need to go.” The man beside me finally looked up, a flicker of annoyance in his eyes. “Now what? Playing hard to get?” He sighed. “Just settle down. Isn’t this what you wanted?” I turned my head, my gaze dropping to his phone, which he hadn’t quite put away. A long string of green message bubbles filled the screen, beneath a pink rabbit avatar. He was comforting her. The realization squeezed my heart, a bitter, self-mocking pang. “I’m not playing hard to get, and I’m not joking,” I paused, my throat tightening. “I just don’t want it anymore.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, his expression a mix of exhaustion and exasperation. “What is it you want then?” Just then, the rain began, blurring my view through the car window. “That contract? Let’s scrap it. And… we should get a divorce.” But before I could finish, Ben let out a derisive scoff, his eyes full of mockery. “Scrap it?” He stared at me. “Clara Humbert, you say that so casually, it almost makes me forget you were the one who practically begged to be tied to me.” My face burned with shame. Back then, Sterling Corp was in crisis, on the brink of collapse. I’d been pursuing him for a long time, so I leveraged the Humbert family’s influence. “Sign this and be with me, and the Humbert family can help you through this crisis.” I admitted I took advantage of his situation. But I was naive enough to believe I could make Ben fall in love with me. I was wrong. Even after marriage, after kisses, after sharing the most intimate moments in bed, he still didn’t love me. The memories stung, bringing tears to my eyes. “Yes, I did tie you down.” I pulled out the contract I once treasured. With Ben’s eyes darkening, I tore it to pieces. “I was wrong. The contract is void. You don’t have to be trapped by me anymore.” “Stop the car!” Ben’s voice was cold. The driver slammed on the brakes. I instinctively lurched forward, my fingers slamming hard against the seat in front, a sharp pain making me wince. Ben said nothing, just stared at the torn pieces of the contract beside him. An unreadable emotion flickered in his eyes. “Is it about Chloe?” His voice was weary, then he seemed to understand, assuming I was being unreasonable, jealous. “I told you, she’s just my assistant. Nothing more.” “Is that so?” Just an assistant. Yet he’d risk a public argument with me, just to protect her. He’d leave me sick and alone, flying to a neighboring city just to celebrate her birthday. I swallowed the surge of bitterness in my heart. “Never mind.” “Anyway, Ben, I think our relationship ends here.” He turned away, scoffing, clearly not taking my words seriously. Just then, his phone chimed, displaying the pink rabbit avatar. “Go,” I said. He instantly silenced his phone, a strange irritation in his voice. “Can you stop pretending to be so magnanimous?” He seemed to lose control, his frustration growing. “Since you insist on playing the part, we’re not going today. Get out.” I glanced at the rain outside, then opened the car door. Ignoring his unspoken question, I stepped out and walked towards the Humbert estate, alone, without looking back. Back home, my mother was shocked. “What happened? Where’s Ben? Wasn’t he supposed to come over today?” I took the ginger tea she offered. “He won’t be coming.” I looked at her. “Mom, doesn’t the Humbert Group have an expatriate program? For the London branch, right? I’ll go.” She seemed to realize something. “But… that’s at least three years away.” I nodded lightly, checking my social media. Chloe had just posted a picture of a man’s back. “Yes,” I said. “The longer, the better.” 2 The next day, I returned to the marital home Ben and I shared, intending to grab my documents. But when I opened the door, a woman’s figure stood there. “Ms. Humbert.” Chloe’s voice was timid, her fingers nervously twisting the hem of her pristine white dress. I paused, then casually grunted in acknowledgement, walking past her into the house. Ben emerged from the bedroom. Seeing me, a flicker of unease crossed his face. “Don’t get the wrong idea,” he quickly said. “She nearly got harassed by her landlord last night, had nowhere else to go, so I brought her back.” I opened my mouth, then just nodded. I didn’t even want to bother asking why he didn’t just put her in a hotel, such a foolish, demeaning question. “Alright, I understand. A woman alone isn’t safe.” I offered a hollow smile. “She can stay as long as she needs.” He pressed his lips together, clearly annoyed despite getting the answer he wanted. “What’s wrong with you? Why…” Why aren’t you causing a scene? I knew that’s what he wanted to ask, because in the past, that’s exactly what I would have done. Any little stir on his part, and I would have been a hysterical mess, torturing him and myself. Now, I refused to repeat that cycle. “You two talk,” I said, heading towards the bedroom. “Don’t mind me.” Ben frowned, his eyes deepening. Inside the room, I found my ID and passport, packing them into my bag. I left nothing else. My wedding ring, along with the signed divorce papers, remained in the drawer. As I turned to leave, Chloe, who had silently entered, startled me. “Are you playing reverse psychology?” she asked, her soft demeanor replaced by a steely glint in her eyes. “It’s a very clever tactic.” I scoffed. “Whether I’m retreating or advancing, you’re still not exactly in a flattering light,” I said, stepping closer. Her face paled slightly as I sneered, “Chloe, if you’re going to be the other woman, at least have the decency to keep it discreet.” “You!” Chloe’s eyes reddened, but she quickly composed herself. She tugged down the strap of her white dress, revealing faint red marks. A smug look spread across her face. “Ms. Humbert, guess which bed we shared last night?” My gaze fixated on the marks for a moment, a fleeting sense of disorientation. My fingers instinctively clenched. After a beat, I reached out and pulled her dress strap back up, covering the marks. My voice was dripping with contempt. “If you want to act like a cheap tart, no one’s stopping you.” Chloe’s eyes widened in disbelief. “Are you out of your mind with anger?” I turned to leave, ignoring her. But as I brushed past, Chloe suddenly grabbed my wrist. She handed me a photo – a child. “What about this? Can you still be indifferent?” I glanced at the picture, and my steps froze. The child was the spitting image of Ben. It was his child… I looked up. Chloe had already retrieved her phone. “He’s a year and two months old.” She stared at me, her voice cutting. “Ms. Humbert, just step aside. The bond and affection between Ben and me can never be broken.” My eyes dropped, a sharp pain in my heart. By my calculations, Chloe’s pregnancy coincided exactly with the time I lost my own child… When I first became pregnant, I was overjoyed, anticipating the baby’s arrival more than anyone. But I wasn’t made of stone. I could feel Ben wasn’t particularly happy. Yet, back then, I deluded myself, pretending not to notice. The night it happened, Ben and I had just finished an event and were supposed to go home together. But midway, he received a phone call. It was the first time I’d seen him so panicked and worried. “Clara, there’s a problem at the office,” he said, pulling the car over, his voice urgent. “Can you take a cab home, please?” I didn’t want to hold him back, so I obediently got out. On my way home, as I passed through an alley, a dark figure suddenly appeared, clamping a hand over my mouth and nose, dragging me deeper into the shadows! My eyes widened in terror. I instinctively protected my belly, screaming and struggling with all my might. My hand brushed against my phone, and in a panic, I dialed Ben’s number, terrified. “Ben—” As soon as he answered, Ben’s voice was impatient. “I’m busy right now, we’ll talk later.” A harsh click, and he hung up, cold and dismissive. The man had me pinned to the ground, tearing at my clothes. Thankfully, a few college students happened to walk by. He cursed and, before fleeing, delivered a vicious kick to my stomach. A searing pain shot through me. I stared in horror at the blood gushing out, crying in despair and humiliation. Then, I blacked out. When I woke up, Ben was by my side. His voice was hoarse. “The baby… we couldn’t save him.” 3 “Why did you hang up?” I asked him, tears streaming down my face. But Ben remained silent. “I had something important to do.” Thinking of my unborn child, my eyes involuntarily welled up, my heart throbbing with a dull ache. Chloe, seeing my distress, wore a triumphant smirk. “That night, I was the one who called him away. The second before your call, we were kissing.” I looked up sharply, the tiny sparks of hope in my eyes extinguished. “…What did you say?” I had always believed Ben genuinely had an emergency that night. It turned out… I lowered my gaze, a bitter smile twisting my lips, a laugh that was both ironic and mournful. Then I closed my eyes. In Chloe’s horrified gaze, I grabbed her by the hair and slammed her head against the wall. Bang! Chloe shrieked, clearly not expecting me to resort to physical violence. She struggled, crying out in pain. “Let me go!” Hearing the commotion, Ben rushed in, gasping at the sight. He quickly pulled us apart. He shoved me hard, shielding the red-eyed woman behind him. “Clara Humbert! Are you out of your mind?!” His face was dark with fury. “I knew it! You were just pretending to be magnanimous, and now you’re actually resorting to violence!” I stumbled, my lower back hitting the corner of the dressing table, the sharp pain draining the color from my lips. Ben frowned at my distress, instinctively moving to help, but then forcibly stopped himself. “Ben,” my voice was hoarse, struggling to suppress the rising bitterness. “Where were you the night I miscarried?” His pupils constricted. He instinctively glanced at Chloe behind him, who looked slightly guilty. A flicker of panic crossed his face. “That night, she and I were together, but we were just…” “It doesn’t matter anymore.” I softly cut him off, closing my eyes to hide the redness. Just the thought of my baby dying while they were in the throes of passion made me sick to my stomach! I choked out, “Ben, it was my mistake to force you into this marriage.” My voice was barely a whisper. “From now on, let’s just… leave it be.” With that, I turned to leave. But as I brushed past, the pale-faced man grabbed my hand. His voice was low and firm. “What do you mean, you were wrong? What do you mean, ‘leave it be’? Clara Humbert, you explain yourself!” I was stiff for a moment, then slowly turned around. The redness in my eyes made Ben falter. “Clara…” I slowly pried his hand open, my voice hoarse as I said each word. “The contract is void. We’re getting a divorce.” Ben’s pupils trembled. He instinctively blocked my path, his throat working. “Clara Humbert, I don’t believe you’d so easily talk about divorce. You were the one who begged me back then, don’t you forget!” My body stiffened. I distinctly remembered the shock and annoyance in his eyes the day I slapped that contract in front of him. “Clara Humbert, what’s the point of forcing it?” But I had merely smiled indifferently. “Whether a forced melon is sweet or not, we’ll find out later. Ben, I believe it will be sweet.” Now… I gave a bitter twist of my lips. “It was my folly. Just consider me insane.” Then I turned and shut the door with a bang.

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1 Sleepless in the dead of night, I scrolled through a social media thread: [What moments made you realize they didn’t love you anymore?] A highly upvoted answer was pinned at the top. [Probably when his fiancée was doing a ‘check-up’.] [We were on a beach vacation. His impatient tone on the phone, then turning to kiss me with a terrifying tenderness.] [He said his fiancée was like a nagging housekeeper, even dictating what underwear he wore, and he was fed up with it.] Someone questioned if it was a made-up story. The poster immediately shared a screenshot of their chat history. The man’s avatar was a black German Shepherd, and his nickname was “J.” I trembled as I scrolled further. [He’s in the shower! Sneak a pic of his abs, tee hee.] In the photo, the man’s lean waist had a scar. It was in the same spot where Julian had taken a knife for me, saving me in our sophomore year. … The light from my phone screen stung my eyes. I had traced that scar countless times, my heart aching with tenderness and lingering fear. That year, when we encountered a mugging, Julian hadn’t hesitated, stepping in front of me. The blade slashed, and blood soaked his white shirt. The doctor said another inch and it would have hit a kidney. He was in so much pain his forehead dripped with sweat, yet he gripped my hand and said, “As long as you’re alright, I don’t care what happens to me.” I flipped my phone over, face down on the covers, my chest so tight I couldn’t breathe. I told myself to calm down, maybe it was just a coincidence. Many people had scars, it couldn’t be him. Julian would literally throw his life away for me. He’d even wrap me in his coat when I had cramps, staying up all night to rub my belly. We’d been together for eight years, our future entwined. It had to be a coincidence. I took a deep breath, picked up my phone again. Exiting the thread, I opened Julian’s social media feed. Half an hour ago, he had posted an update. The accompanying picture was of an architectural model. In the background, in the dim hotel lighting, his wrist wore the watch I had given him. The caption read: [For our future home, no amount of hardship is too much.] Below, a string of friends had liked it, praising him as the perfect man. My heart, suspended in mid-air, finally settled. I knew it. The man in the thread couldn’t be Julian. He was working himself to the bone in a foreign country for our home. How could he be the despicable man in that post? I switched back to the thread. The poster, “KikiTheFairy,” was still updating. To prove she wasn’t lying, she posted a few more details. [Some people are just jealous. My boyfriend is not only handsome, but he spoils me rotten.] [His fiancée? Ha, just a nagging old busybody who controls everything.] [He says she even dictates what tie he wears today. He’s totally fed up with it.] I froze, my vision blurring for a moment. This morning, before he left, Julian stood in front of the mirror, holding two ties, undecided. I walked over, picked up the dark blue silk tie, stood on my tiptoes to tie it for him, and smiled. “This one makes you look fairer, and it matches your suit today.” He leaned down and kissed my forehead, his eyes full of affection. “My Maya always has the best taste.” I scrolled further. [This is the Starry Night necklace he gave me. He said it’s to commemorate the night we met. The stars were so bright.] In the photo, the necklace, encrusted with tiny diamonds, shimmered under the light. Its unique design depicted a meteor streaking across the night sky. Just a few days ago, I had seen the design draft of the necklace on Julian’s computer. At the time, I had walked in with a bowl of fruit and casually asked, “It’s beautiful, is it designed for me?” He closed his laptop, naturally running his hand through my hair. “It’s an anniversary gift for a client’s wife, still needs some tweaking.” [Oh, and we’re on a private island in the Maldives. It’s absolutely breathtaking here! Just the two of us, tee hee.] Julian told me he was in Germany for a project. His schedule was packed, and he was battling jet lag. My hand trembled as I clicked on the poster’s edit history. The time of the first post, counting backward, was exactly 312 days ago. In that instant, my mind went blank with a whoosh. 312 days ago was our seven-year anniversary. That morning, he had held me, telling me he loved me, that I was the only light in his life. But that night, he said the company had an emergency and he had to work late, telling me to go to bed first. It turned out he was with her then. 2 My phone suddenly vibrated. The words “My Love” flashed across the screen. I stared at the screen for a long time. It wasn’t until the vibration was about to stop that I pressed the answer button. Julian’s voice was hoarse with fatigue. “Maya, are you still awake? Missing me?” I didn’t speak, just listened quietly. It was very still on his end, with the occasional sound of waves crashing against the shore. He noticed my silence. “Why aren’t you talking? Are you feeling unwell?” Just then, a woman’s soft giggle faintly reached my ear. “Darling, hurry up, the water’s getting cold…” The phone went silent for a moment. Then came the sound of fabric rubbing, as if someone was muffling the receiver. A few seconds later, Julian’s voice returned, tinged with panic. “Maya, the TV here is a bit loud, they’re showing a travel program.” I closed my eyes, tears sliding down my cheeks and into my mouth, bitter enough to make me want to vomit. I cleared my throat, my voice calm, even with a hint of a smile. “Julian, is the Maldives fun?” The other end of the phone fell silent. After a full five seconds, Julian chuckled weakly. “Maya, what nonsense are you talking about? I’m on a business trip in Germany. The hotel is by the sea, and the TV just happens to be showing a Maldives travel program. You must have misheard.” He was gambling on my trust, gambling that I was just asking casually. If it had been the old Maya Sterling, I might really have been fooled. After all, he was Julian, the man who would sacrifice his life for me. But now, looking at the constantly updated pictures of the Maldives in the thread, my heart was ashes. “Maybe so. Well, get some rest soon. Don’t overwork yourself.” “Okay, you get to sleep too. I’ll bring you a gift when I get back.” He visibly relaxed, his tone becoming gentle again. “Oh, and don’t worry too much about the Haven Orphanage charity project. I know you have a soft heart, but take care of yourself too. Don’t get too tired.” Hanging up, my heart slowly sank. I remembered the thread saying: [His fiancée is just a fake saint, always doing charity work, putting on an act. He prefers someone real like me, who never hides anything.] So, in his eyes, my kindness was an act, a joke he used to amuse another woman. The next morning, I received a call from Adrian. Adrian was Julian’s older brother and the head of Hayes Group. “Are you free now? Let’s meet.” He paused. “There are some things we need to discuss about your wedding to Julian.” Half an hour later, I met Adrian at Hayes Group. He had always looked down on me, believing my background was too ordinary. He felt I wasn’t good enough for his golden-boy brother, that I was holding Julian back. He pushed a prenuptial agreement across the table to me. “Take a look. These are the Hayes family rules.” He leaned back in his chair, a haughty look on his face. “If you have no objections, sign it.” I opened the agreement. The terms were extremely harsh, all restrictions on me. The most glaring clause was: [Should the marriage dissolve due to the wife’s fault, the wife shall forfeit all marital assets and leave with nothing.] I smiled, my voice very soft. “What if Julian cheats?” 3 Adrian paused, then scoffed, his eyes full of contempt. “Julian cheating? Ms. Sterling, are you telling jokes?” He dismissed my concern. “Everyone knows he’s devoted to you. That hypothesis is meaningless.” “Is that so?” Just then, my phone on the table lit up. Kiki’s post had updated. It was a photo of two passports stacked together. One, a dark red, was Julian’s passport, which I knew all too well. The one beneath it, though only a corner was visible, clearly showed two words in the name field: Kira Mendez. The caption accompanying the photo was audacious and jarring: [He says he’s taking me to see the Northern Lights, that used to be his girlfriend’s dream, but now it’s ours.] Seeing the Northern Lights was a wish Julian and I made in our junior year of college, lying on a lawn. I pointed at the starry sky and softly said, “Julian, someday I want to go to Iceland to see the Northern Lights. I hear it’s beautiful, like a fairy tale.” He turned his head to look at me, his eyes brighter than the night sky, his voice gentle and certain. “Okay, when we get married, I’ll take you there for our honeymoon.” I turned my phone screen towards Adrian. “Mr. Hayes, please take a look at this first.” Adrian casually glanced at it. The next second, his face turned ashen. “He cheated.” I watched Adrian’s shifting expression, calmly asking, “According to the agreement, what do I get?” Adrian didn’t speak, his breathing grew heavy, his chest rising and falling violently. After a long moment, he pressed the intercom on his desk. “Check all transactions in Julian’s private account for the past year, and his whereabouts.” Hanging up, he slumped back in his chair. He closed his eyes, his earlier haughty demeanor instantly crumbling. I heard him murmur to himself, “Exactly like Dad…” His voice was very soft, but filled with deep disgust and weariness. Less than ten minutes later, his assistant knocked and entered. “Mr. Hayes, I found it.” Adrian snatched the tablet, rapidly swiping the screen. With each swipe, his face grew darker. Finally, he handed the tablet to me. “You should see this too.” Dense, endless pages of transaction records. The private island rental fee in the Maldives, a custom Cartier necklace, the rent for a luxury apartment in the city center, and a fixed monthly allowance transferred to Kira Mendez… And what chilled me most was the large transfer on the last page. The note read: [Haven Orphanage Phase Two Construction Fund]. But this money did not go into the orphanage’s account. Instead, it was transferred to a company named “Kira’s Miracles,” with Kira Mendez as the legal representative. The Haven Orphanage was a project Julian and I had been funding since college. I knew every child there. Julian had once vowed to me, “Maya, every time I see you working tirelessly for these children, I feel a light radiating from you. It’s your kindness that makes me want to be a better man.” Now, he used our shared compassion to support his mistress. All my lingering affection for the past died completely at this moment. Adrian looked at me with a complex gaze, a mix of guilt and sympathy. He silently picked up the prenuptial agreement and threw it into the shredder. “Our father was the same. He played the part of a perfect husband while keeping women outside. Our mother eventually died of depression.” He gave a self-mocking laugh. “I never thought genes would really be passed down.” 4 He stood up, looking at me gravely. “What do you want to do? If you want to cancel the wedding, I can help you release a statement.” I stood, my voice calm. “No cancellation. I want to give him a wedding he’ll never forget.” Adrian looked at me deeply, then nodded. “Alright, I’ll help you.” Stepping out of the Hayes building, the sunlight was blinding. My phone vibrated. It was a text from Julian: [Finally landed, darling. Can’t wait to see you. Let’s finalize the wedding plans tonight.] Julian embraced me the moment he walked in. His chin rested on the crown of my head, his voice hoarse. “Maya, I missed you so much.” I suppressed the nausea churning in my stomach, not pushing him away, just stiffly letting him hold me. Then he pulled a bracelet from his bag, presenting it like a treasure. “A gift for you. See if you like it?” I recognized it instantly as a popular, mass-produced item from an online shop. He smiled, “I went to several markets to find this handmade, unique piece.” I looked at the bracelet, then thought of Kira Mendez’s expensive Starry Night necklace. Only a cold laugh remained in my heart. I smiled and accepted it. “Thank you, I love it.” The next few days, we confirmed the guest list, tried on wedding dresses, and rehearsed the ceremony. Julian was gentle and attentive, even at the wedding dress fitting. Watching me put on the main gown he had personally chosen, his eyes welled up. “Maya, you’re so beautiful.” He choked out, “I’ll cherish you forever.” A week flew by. The wedding was set in a glass conservatory by the sea. As I walked towards Julian in my pristine white gown, his eyes were filled with awe and love. “Maya, you’re truly beautiful today.” I smiled at him, saying nothing. The ceremony began, the officiant reciting moving vows. As he spoke of “through poverty or wealth, sickness or health,” Julian’s phone in his pocket suddenly vibrated. He frowned, ignoring it, just gripping my hand tighter. Then, the phone vibrated again, this time for a long duration. He gave me an apologetic look, pulling out his phone to hang up. But when he saw the message on the screen, his face instantly turned ashen. Julian looked up at me, his eyes frantic. “Maya, something urgent came up at the company. There’s been a building collapse! I have to go immediately!” With that, he didn’t wait for my reaction, turned, and rushed off the stage. The entire venue erupted in murmurs, guests exchanging bewildered glances. Just then, my phone vibrated. Adrian’s message: [It’s all handled.] At the same time, my special notification popped up. Kira Mendez had updated her social media. A photo of a pregnancy test stick, showing two bright red lines. The caption: [Sorry, wedding’s off. He chose us.]

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I discovered a tracker my husband had hidden under the car. He thought his plan was flawless, but I felt chills to the bone. My sister-in-law was preparing for pregnancy, seeking medical advice every day with great anxiety. With a kind smile, I handed her the car keys. “This car has enhanced safety features, so you can drive to your check-ups with peace of mind.” She thanked me gratefully, unaware that danger had already quietly begun its journey. The next day, the sound of police sirens pierced the air. My mother-in-law’s wails were heart-wrenching. It was only then that he understood the depths of my ruthlessness. 1 The afternoon sun was a bit blinding, and the fan-shaped spray from the water gun briefly refracted a rainbow. I was bent over, scrubbing the car’s body with a soft sponge. This was a white SUV, bought with the bonus from my first major project. Adrian didn’t like this car; he found its lines not rugged enough, unworthy of his status as an investment manager. But I loved it – its rounded curves and spacious interior, like a mobile fortress ready to carry me away at any moment. Water streamed, washing away dirt and sand from the tire grooves. My fingertips accidentally brushed against an edge on the undercarriage. Taped there was something that didn’t belong to the car itself. It was a small, rough, square object with a magnetic texture. My movements paused for a second, my heart suddenly clutched by an invisible hand. I didn’t immediately rip it off. I straightened up, turned off the water gun, and silence fell around me, broken only by the dripping water from the car’s body. I pulled out my phone, adjusted the angle, and snapped a photo of the small black square. The picture clearly showed its outline, and a faint, blinking indicator light. Back home, I locked myself in my study and uploaded the photo to my computer. Enlarged, searched. Every word of the results that popped up on the screen was like a cold chisel, carving raw, bleeding holes in my heart. High-precision global positioning system tracker, ultra-long standby, silent operation. So that’s it. No wonder when I changed a meeting location with a client last week at the last minute, Adrian’s call “happened” to come in just as I walked into that new coffee shop. No wonder he always sent a thoughtful message like “Don’t rush, drive slowly” when I was stuck in traffic and frustrated. I used to be touched by such telepathic synchronicity. Now, the thought alone made my stomach churn with nausea. I leaned back in my chair, closed my eyes, and tried to steady my breathing. Besides the tracker, there was something else. That scent. For the past month, a faint, sickly sweet smell always wafted from the car’s air vents. I thought the AC filter needed changing and even mentioned it to Adrian. How did he respond then? He said it was just the new air freshener being too strong; it would dissipate in a few days. And then there was my own body. A inexplicable fatigue that even eight hours of sleep couldn’t alleviate. Recurring skin rashes on my arms and lower legs, an agonizing itch. I thought it was due to the changing season, or too much work stress. Now, all the clues, like venomous snakes, slithered out from dark corners, coiling around me, flicking their tongues. I didn’t touch anything. I turned off the computer and saved the photos on my phone into an encrypted folder. I prepared dinner as usual, rinsing rice, washing vegetables, slicing meat. The knife struck the cutting board with crisp, regular, cold sounds. The lock turned. Adrian was home. He wore a well-tailored suit, his hair meticulously combed, a gentle smile on his face. He walked over, habitually hugging me from behind, his chin resting on my shoulder. “Tired today?” he asked. I could smell the mix of tobacco and cologne on him, a scent I once adored, but now only made me want to gag. I shook my head, my voice as still as stagnant water. “Not tired.” I turned my head, looking into his eyes, trying to keep my expression natural. “Oh, by the way,” I said, “doesn’t the car need servicing? I feel like the AC has been a bit off lately.” His eyes flickered, very quickly, almost imperceptibly. “Is that so? I just had it checked a while ago. It’s probably just a dirty filter. I’ll take it to the dealership this weekend.” He answered flawlessly, his smile perfect. Halfway through dinner, my mother-in-law, Olivia Voldemort, called right on cue. Adrian put her on speaker. “Nancy, have you seen a doctor yet? You’ve been married for three years, and not a peep from your belly. Are you deliberately trying to make the Voldemort family childless?” Her sharp, caustic voice pierced through the receiver like steel needles, pricking my eardrums. “Our Adrian has a career, he has good looks. Marrying you was the worst luck! What’s a barren hen doing occupying the nest?!” My hand gripping my chopsticks tightened slightly, knuckles white. Adrian immediately frowned, speaking into the phone. “Mom, what are you talking about? Nancy is under a lot of pressure too. We’re trying.” “Trying? Three years of trying and not a damn thing! I’m telling you, Adrian, I don’t care. If there’s no news within this year, you’re getting a divorce! I don’t want to die and have no face to meet your father!” Olivia slammed down the phone. The dining room fell silent. Adrian sighed, picked up a piece of pork rib, and placed it in my bowl, his tone gentle as if soothing a child. “Nancy, don’t listen to Mom. She’s just anxious for grandchildren, there’s no malice.” He added, “Look at my sister, Cathy. She’s trying so hard, seeing traditional healers, getting check-ups, all for conception. Let’s put in more effort, okay?” Every word was comfort, yet every word piled on more pressure. I looked at his hypocritical face, at the calculating flicker in his eyes, and the warmth in my heart cooled inch by inch, until it froze. This man I had loved for five years, this husband I had shared a bed with for three, was personally weaving a vast web for me. And I was the prey about to be devoured. No. I wouldn’t let him succeed. It was late, Adrian was sound asleep, his breathing steady and long. I quietly got out of bed, walked to the living room, and picked up his phone. The password was our wedding anniversary—how ironic. I tapped on a contact with no avatar, labeled “S.” The chat history wasn’t extensive, but every message was shocking. “Has she been suspicious lately?” “No, she’s very naive.” “How are the ‘things’ working?” “Should be soon, she’s always complaining about being tired lately.” Just then, a new message popped up at the top of the screen, from “S.” “How are things progressing? If she still can’t conceive, it’ll be easier to explain to your mom, and we can be together sooner.” I clamped my hand over my mouth, preventing a sob from escaping. So, my physical discomfort, my mother-in-law’s coercion, his gentle trap—everything was a meticulously planned conspiracy. He didn’t want me to not be able to conceive. He wanted me to be “proven” infertile. A bone-chilling cold rose from the soles of my feet, spreading instantly through my limbs, freezing me into a temperatureless statue. Fury and hatred churned in my chest like lava, scorching every inch of my reason. Very well. Adrian Voldemort. You want to play? I’ll play to the very end. 2 The next day, I called my office, my voice hoarse, and requested sick leave. The reason: a severe cold, feeling unwell. After hanging up, I found gloves and a mask in the storage room, arming myself thoroughly. I needed to reconfirm. Opening the car door, the sickly sweet scent was even clearer than yesterday. I didn’t start the car. Instead, I directly disassembled the glove compartment in front of the passenger seat, revealing the AC filter housing inside. The process was more complex than I imagined, but as an architectural designer, I had a natural sensitivity to mechanical structures. I carefully pulled out the filter. Deep within the filter, near the air vent, I found something. It wasn’t a normal car air freshener. It was cleverly disguised as a black plastic part, wedged tightly in a structural crevice. A thin tube connected to it, leading to a modified miniature device that could slowly release liquid. My heart pounded, almost leaping from my throat. I used tweezers, with extreme caution, to remove the entire device intact. Then, I sealed the device in a plastic bag and cut off a small piece of the liquid-soaked AC filter as a sample. After all that, I called Sarah Thorne. Sarah was my college best friend and the star lawyer at the city’s top law firm. When she answered, I simply said, “Sarah, something’s happened to me.” Sarah immediately noticed the distress in my voice. “Where are you? Don’t move, I’m coming right away!” Half an hour later, Sarah arrived at my house in a flurry. I placed the tracker and the strange device in front of her. After hearing my story, her usually calm and composed face erupted in fury. “Adrian, that animal! He’s slowly poisoning you! This is a crime!” She immediately contacted a highly professional and discreet private testing agency, who promised results within twenty-four hours. During the long, agonizing wait for the results, I didn’t allow myself to be idle. I opened my computer and began to sort through all the assets under Adrian’s and my names. In three years of marriage, we had jointly invested in several projects, mostly led by him. I checked them one by one, and my heart sank deeper into the abyss. Three financial products, totaling over seven figures, which should have been under our joint account, had vanished. I checked the transaction records: they had been unilaterally transferred by Adrian to an account completely unknown to me, a month ago. Sarah’s call came in, her voice grave. “Nancy, I just consulted with my colleagues. We have a terrifying theory.” She paused. “Adrian’s goal is likely a combination punch.” She continued, her voice grim. “Step one: use drugs to ruin your body, making you ‘infertile.’ Step two: use a tracker to monitor your movements, fabricating ‘evidence’ of your misconduct.” She concluded, her voice cold. “Finally, when it comes to divorce, he’ll make you leave with nothing due to ‘physical issues’ and ‘marital misconduct.’” My mind buzzed. I remembered. Just two months ago, Adrian had subtly tried to get me to sign a property agreement. He said it was just a precaution, in case our feelings changed later, so we could part amicably and without ill will. At the time, I just found it strange and kept putting off signing. Now, it was clear that it was a trap he had laid long ago. I hung up and immediately put on my coat and went to the bank. The bank statement the ATM spat out was long, like a eulogy. It clearly recorded the path and time of every one of Adrian’s asset transfers. Undeniable evidence. I held that stack of cold paper, walking down the street at dusk, the city’s neon lights blurring my vision. My phone vibrated. “Sis, preparing for pregnancy is so tough. Tomorrow, I’m going to the city’s best fertility center for a full check-up. I hope for good news.” Followed by a praying hands emoji. I looked at the words, at that jarring emoji. A bold, meticulous, even somewhat insane plan slowly sprouted in my frozen heart. Adrian, you want to see a good show? Then I’ll make you watch, with your own eyes, how you personally push your beloved sister into the abyss.

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After seven years of marriage, Alaric Williams never suspected that everyone in my family—except me—was utterly unhinged. My father, Arthur Blackwood, was a ruthless crime lord; my brother, Rhys, collected victims’ remains. Since my mother Eleanor’s death, they raised me, Elara, like a hothouse flower, with twisted affection. They always swore, with chilling calm, that anyone who hurt me would be torn apart. On the day I went into labor, Alaric’s assistant Chloe Vance screamed about a vaginal tear and sent the doctors away. Clutching his hand, I pleaded hoarsely: “Alaric, get them back. If my family finds out you’re doing this, you’re dead.” He shook me off coldly. “Still lying? I’m a billionaire now—even the mayor respects me. Why would I fear them?” Voice detached, he added, “Remember when Chloe’s blood sugar dropped and you made me attend that dinner? Now you’re in labor. Tough it out till she recovers—you won’t die.” The door slammed. Agony tore through me. With trembling fingers, I pressed the emergency button hidden in my necklace—not for ordinary guards, but for the Raven Syndicate, the world’s most feared mercenaries. … 1. Alaric didn’t return that night. Dragging my bleeding body, I painstakingly crawled to the door. Looking up, I saw Mr. Poirot, Alaric’s executive assistant, leaning against the wall, his eyes as cold as a winter storm. “Please… call a doctor… my baby… my baby is dying…” I reached out, my trembling fingers trying to grip the hem of his trousers. Mr. Poirot kicked my hand away, his disgust palpable. “Every doctor in this hospital has been called by Mr. Williams to attend to Ms. Vance. Mrs. Williams, you’ll just have to wait patiently.” The blood beneath me spread, a growing crimson stain, and my abdomen spasmed with the searing pain of a blunt knife. “I’m about to give birth! What injury could possibly be more important than a woman in labor?!” He chuckled, a cynical, humorless sound. “Mrs. Williams, you haven’t heard? Last night, Mr. Williams put Ms. Vance through quite a night. Her… intimate tearing was rather severe. Mr. Williams was heartbroken and immediately ordered all doctors to stay by her side.” “You… you said what?” My mind went blank, a chilling plunge into an icy abyss. Even the agonizing pain in my belly couldn’t override the suffocating tightness in my chest. I clung to his trousers, desperately pleading. “Please, call Alaric. Tell him to come see me and the baby, even if it’s just for a moment…” “Don’t waste your breath, Mrs. Williams.” Mr. Poirot’s voice was arctic. “With Ms. Vance in his arms, why would Mr. Williams care about you? You and your baby, if you don’t die, you’ll just have to endure it. If you do, well, it serves you right.” His words were daggers, piercing my heart. He was right. Alaric wouldn’t care. His thoughts, his world, were entirely consumed by Chloe Vance. How could he possibly save me? I opened my mouth, trying to speak, but the blood loss overwhelmed me. My vision blurred, and I collapsed into unconsciousness. 2. In my dream, I was falling, endlessly, into a bottomless chasm. When I opened my eyes again, I saw my father, Arthur, crouching by the villa’s swimming pool. He held a bloody piece of meat, tossing it into the water. The fish, their bellies distended, their scales an eerie, blood-red, devoured it greedily. He turned to me, a chilling smile on his face, telling me how the scales of fish fed human flesh were the most beautiful, perfect for my bookmarks. My brother, Rhys, leaned against the glass door, proudly showing me a bracelet he’d fashioned from human bones. Back then, I’d just witnessed my mother’s sudden death, and the darkness terrified me. Alaric, no matter how late his engagements, would always return early to be by my side, waking before dawn to go to work. I casually mentioned I loved the stars, and he spent millions to buy the observatory outside the city, a birthday gift just for me. An heiress from a prominent family, desperate to be with him, offered him a billion-dollar project to force him to break up with me. To reassure me, he blocked her number and declared publicly, “The only woman I will ever love in this life is Elara Blackwood.” I believed him. So I defied my family, helped him build his empire from the ground up, shielded him from countless schemes, and even deliberately cut ties with my own family for him. He’d held me countless times, whispering, “Elara, once the company goes public, I’ll take you on a world tour, pamper you like a princess.” But now? That man, who swore he’d never betray me, was watching me bleed to death in a hospital, all for another woman! A baby’s cry pierced through my hazy consciousness. The next moment, I was jolted back to reality. Looking at Mr. Poirot beside me, I forced the words past my pain. “Mr. Poirot, years ago, my father personally chose you to protect me. You know my family’s methods better than anyone.” He said nothing, but his trembling hands betrayed his terror. “What do you want?” A pallid, bitter laugh escaped me. “My father and brother will be here any minute. If you don’t get a doctor now, when they arrive, you’ll be buried alive, your body never found!” Mr. Poirot instantly paled, his whole body shaking, scrambling to find a doctor. Just as he reached the door, he seemed to remember something. A twisted smile spread across his face, and he whirled around, slapping me hard across the cheek! The sharp crack echoed in the room, my head snapping to the side. “This is Mr. Williams’s private hospital, built in the deepest wilderness! Forget satellites, even a god couldn’t find this place!” I gasped for air, my weak voice filled with a venomous resolve. “You’re all too late. I’ve already sent out my location.” His face instantly turned ashen, his legs gave out, and he crumpled to the floor, his eyes wide with a ghostly horror. “Th… that’s not true…” I gritted my teeth, every word a fresh surge of cold sweat-inducing pain. “Go get a doctor now. If my father comes, I’ll put in a word for you and you might keep your miserable life. Otherwise… next year’s this day will be your death anniversary!” Mr. Poirot, utterly terrified, fumbled for his phone, scrambling out of the room like a madman. I lay on the bed, my belly churning with knife-like spasms, but the knot of dread in my heart finally loosened, if only by a fraction. 3. When Mr. Poirot finally pushed the doctor in, the sight of me, drenched in blood, made him explode! “Are you insane?!” He stomped his foot, pointing at my belly in exasperation. “The mother is barely clinging to life! The baby is breached, the pulse so faint it’s almost undetectable. Five more minutes and it’ll be a double tragedy!” The doctor swiftly checked my pulse, then pried open my eyelids, shouting, “Get the delivery kit! And bring the high-potency stimulant! She needs to stay conscious, we can’t afford any more complications!” A needle plunged in, and the icy liquid flowed into my veins. My mind, which had been a blur, instantly sharpened. Finally, my baby and I had a chance… The doctor had just picked up a scalpel when the door to my room burst open with a resounding crash! Chloe’s mother, Serena Vance, stormed in, shoving the doctor to the ground. “Last night, Alaric and my daughter were up until dawn, and her wound has torn again! She can barely stand! I order you to go save her immediately, or I swear I’ll have you run out of this city!” She turned to glare at me, her face practically glowing with smug satisfaction. “My daughter is Mr. Williams’s most cherished darling! He said, every doctor in the city must prioritize her!” Then, with a sneer, she kicked my belly, her eyes filled with utter disdain. “Elara Blackwood, don’t think that just because you have a face that could launch a thousand ships and helped Alaric build his empire, you’re hot stuff. Look at yourself, what are you? You don’t deserve to be Mrs. Williams!” I writhed in pain, gathering the last ounce of my strength to spit right onto her fleshy face. Serena’s face instantly contorted, turning green, and she raised her hand to strike me. “You witch! Today, I’ll teach you a lesson for my daughter, so you’ll know who the real mistress of the Williams household is!” Mr. Poirot, horrified, lunged forward, desperately blocking her. “Mrs. Vance, Mrs. Williams is barely alive! If you do anything more, she and the baby will die!” “So what?” She laughed, a terrifying, twisted sound, and shouted for two bodyguards from outside the door. “Hold her down! Daring to steal my daughter’s man, today you’ll learn what it means to wish for death!” Two burly men rushed in, gripping my arms and legs with iron strength. Powerless, I could only watch as she snatched a solid wooden stick from the corner of the room. “Giving birth isn’t supposed to be painless, is it? Screaming like a stuck pig, how delicate!” She patted my face with cruel glee, the wooden stick poking my belly. “The baby’s breached, so what? Just roll this stick on her belly a few times, and the baby will come out, won’t it?” My pupils constricted in terror, and I struggled frantically. “You wouldn’t dare! Alaric will kill you if he finds out!” She laughed even harder, a deranged cackle, raising the stick and pressing it down hard, rolling it across my swollen belly! “My daughter is the apple of Alaric’s eye! If you and this bastard die, he’ll be thrilled!” The moment the stick pressed against my skin, I shrieked in agony. My insides felt dislocated, and the baby in my womb struggled violently for a moment, then went completely still! “No! My baby!” I screamed, a heart-wrenching wail, tears streaming down my face, mixing with sweat. She ignored me, continuing to roll the wooden stick back and forth across my belly, each push with all her might. My skin burned, my organs felt like they were being shredded, and I convulsed in pain, my consciousness fading. Mr. Poirot was drenched in cold sweat, his legs trembling uncontrollably. “Stop! She’ll really die if you keep this up!” “Get out!” Serena kicked him away, raising the wooden stick again, aiming for my groin. “Might as well finish the job, make sure you can never have children again, then see if Alaric still wants you!” Just as the stick was about to descend again, a furious roar echoed from behind her. “Elara!” 4. Alaric rushed forward, shoving Serena aside. “Mr. Williams… why are you here?” The blood I’d lost soaked the sheets. My belly was red and purple from the beating, swollen to a horrifying degree. Alaric looked at me, his eyes bloodshot, and spun around, roaring, “Who gave you the audacity?! How dare you touch my woman and child!” Chloe, her eyes red and tear-filled, clung to Alaric’s sleeve. “Alaric… please don’t blame my mom. Punish me instead. It’s all my fault, I couldn’t stop her…” Chloe sobbed, gasping for breath, then abruptly shifted her tone. “But Elara always hits and scolds me, saying I’m a temptress and unworthy of you… When my mom came to visit, Elara even hit her. I don’t know what I did wrong for Elara to hate me so much!” She said, rolling up her sleeve to reveal faint, old scars on her arm. “These are all from Elara hitting me before. I never dared tell you, fearing you’d be put in a difficult position. My mom just lost her temper; she really didn’t mean to…” Alaric’s gaze instantly turned icy, his eyes fixed on me, his voice brimming with disappointment. “Elara Blackwood, I thought you were merely spoiled, but I never imagined you were this vicious!” His words were like an ice pick, brutally stabbing my heart! Whatever last vestige of hope I had for him shattered into dust! Alaric’s eyes darkened. “It seems I’ve pampered you too much, allowing you to become so lawless! You need to learn your lesson! Whatever punishment Chloe desires, you will accept it!” I stared at him in disbelief. “Alaric! Are you blind?! They were trying to kill our baby!” Chloe, seeing this, whimpered softly. “Alaric, Elara is just too anxious. I once heard an old shaman say that ice silkworms can calm the blood and help with labor, without harming the baby…” No sooner had she spoken than a bodyguard brought in a dark box. Inside, countless silver-white worms writhed, their bodies gleaming with a cold light, emitting faint, viscous hissing sounds that made my skin crawl! “These ice silkworms love to suck pregnant blood. They cling to the skin and burrow into the flesh. The coolness will numb the pain, helping Elara calm down and give birth properly.” Chloe smiled innocently, already pinching an ice silkworm between her fingers. Alaric glanced at the box, frowning in hesitant thought. Chloe quickly shook his arm, pouting. “Alaric, the doctor is here. The baby will be fine. I’m just trying to help Elara have a safe delivery.” He paused for less than three seconds, then spoke in a low, grim voice. “Do it.” Chloe’s eyes flashed with triumphant glee. She pressed the ice silkworm onto my swollen, red belly! “Ah—!” A bone-chilling cold instantly enveloped my body. The ice silkworms, with their fangs bared, ravenously burrowed into my flesh, devouring my blood and skin! I convulsed, screaming in agony. “Alaric, stop them… that’s your own flesh and blood!” The ice silkworms crawled swiftly along the bloody tracks, and my belly quickly turned blue and purple. The coldness, coupled with the searing pain, made my vision dim. I lay in a pool of blood, consumed by despair. “Father… Rhys… where are you…?” As the last tear slipped from my eye, I stopped struggling. A thunderous BOOM! The door exploded outwards, shattered by a bomb, sending splinters of wood flying! My father, Arthur, covered in blood, stormed in. His eyes swept over the box of worms in Chloe’s hand, the stunned Alaric, and finally landed on my barely breathing form. They instantly turned scarlet. “It seems my fish will have fresh bait to eat!” Rhys casually followed behind, his eyes fixed on Chloe with a look of terrifying fascination. “That face… it would make a perfect lampshade.”

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