Author: Momo Chan

A new intern joined James’s company last month. Armed with a so-called “System,” she quickly wrapped everyone around me around her little finger. My older brother turned into her loyal lapdog. My in-laws basically adopted her as their own. Even my husband, James, started taking her on secret business trips. She stood in front of me, her lips curling into a sneer of pure disdain. “Give it three months. James will divorce you for me. A useless woman like you deserves to be wiped out by the System.” She expected me to scream. She wanted jealousy, twisted rage, a desperate vow of revenge. Instead, I slowly folded the terminal illness notification in my hand and tucked it away. I looked at her, my eyes filled with nothing but genuine pity. “Run. This is your last chance.” 1 James and I were childhood sweethearts. Our families had been close for three generations. We were each other’s first loves. Married for two years, we never had a single argument. That was, until the new intern showed up at his corporate headquarters. Lindsay. The first time I saw her was at the cemetery on the outskirts of the city. She was young, dressed in a flowing white sundress, her hair tied in a simple ponytail. Her eyes were wide and innocent as she timidly hid behind my father. My father led her to my mother’s gravestone and offered a bouquet of white roses. His voice was heavy with grief. “Sylvia, your mother has passed, and you’ve moved out to start your own family. The estate feels too empty. I’ve decided to bring Lindsay home to live with us.” I gave him a sharp, incredulous look. “You’re a grown man, Dad. Have you not figured out how to sleep in an empty house yet? Mom hasn’t even been gone a year, and you’re already replacing her?” My father faltered, his mouth opening and closing without a sound. It was Lindsay who stepped forward. “Sylvia, I am the illegitimate daughter of the Sinclair family. I know you look down on me. But we are all born equal. In the eyes of the law, we share the exact same inheritance rights.” I let out a dry laugh. Before I could even formulate a reply, a strange, echoing voice filled my head. [System, are you absolutely sure my identity as the illegitimate daughter is flawless?] A robotic chime responded. [Affirmative, Host. I have directly replicated the female lead’s DNA. No matter what tests they run, you are a blood-relative of the Sinclair family.] Lindsay’s inner voice dripped with mockery. [Tsk. And here I thought her parents had this grand, epic romance. Turns out, all it takes is a single piece of paper from a DNA lab to make Arthur’s affection for me skyrocket from zero to one hundred percent.] The System replied. [Congratulations, Host! As long as you successfully conquer everyone close to the female lead, you will perfectly replace her.] Female lead? Me? I kept my face completely blank, quietly lowering my gaze to the grass. Lindsay’s confident thoughts continued. [Aside from being born lucky, the female lead is utterly useless. Are you sure that once I replace her, everyone’s memories of her will be completely erased?] [Guaranteed. You have my word.] Under the sleeve of my black coat, my thumb brushed against the plastic of my hospital wristband. My heart pounded a slow, heavy rhythm against my ribs. Just then, Lindsay’s gaze shifted to someone standing a few yards away. My older brother. “He’s my next target,” she whispered under her breath. [Host, scanning target Tristan. Current affection level is negative two hundred percent.] A faint smile touched the corners of my mouth. My brother was a man of rigid principles. An Ivy League law graduate with a moral compass made of iron. If there was one thing he despised, it was the exact kind of scandal Lindsay represented. Later that evening, back at the Sinclair estate. Lindsay immediately demanded my old bedroom. “Sylvia doesn’t even live here anymore. It’s a waste to leave it empty.” I flat-out refused. We exchanged a few heated words at the top of the staircase. Suddenly, she threw herself backward, tumbling down the carpeted steps with a dramatic cry. Tristan happened to be walking through the foyer. He paused, his cold, sharp eyes sweeping over her. A look of profound disgust crossed his face. Lindsay scrambled to her feet, looking perfectly pathetic. A scrape on her forehead beaded with fresh, bright red blood. She looked up at my father with tear-filled eyes. “I know Sylvia didn’t push me on purpose. And I know I don’t deserve such a beautiful room. It’s just… before I found you, Dad, I spent nights sleeping in my car. I used to dream of having a real canopy bed of my own.” Tristan stared at her in dead silence for three agonizing seconds. His lips barely moved. “Get lost.” The robotic voice chimed in my head again. [Host, Tristan’s affection level has dropped by another one hundred points. Current level is negative three hundred percent.] Lindsay bit her lip, her hands clenching into fists at her sides. 2 Her acting was incredibly sloppy. Did she really think she could fool a top-tier corporate litigator like my brother? Tristan took the stairs two at a time and grabbed my hands. His brow furrowed in genuine concern. “Sylvia, you look terrible. You’re so pale. Is James not taking care of you? If that bastard is neglecting you, tell me right now. I’ll break his jaw.” I gently shook my head. “James is in Paris on business. He won’t be back until tonight.” Whenever James traveled, he called me at least ten times a day. If I took longer than five minutes to text back, he would panic. Just to make sure I got to eat the fresh croissants from my favorite bakery in Montmartre, he was flying back on his private jet tonight. Night fell. James’s Maybach pulled up to the driveway of the Sinclair estate. The heavy door swung open, and he stepped out. His tailored suit clung perfectly to his frame, and the moment his eyes found me, a hopelessly indulgent smile broke across his handsome face. Standing nearby, Lindsay was mentally screaming. [System, is this the male lead?! He is gorgeous! He is exactly my type! I hate to admit it, but the female lead really hit the jackpot.] [Do not underestimate the male lead, Host,] the System warned. [His mind is dark and incredibly complex. He is not what he seems.] Lindsay scoffed internally. [What is there to be afraid of? Look at Sylvia. She’s a spineless coward who doesn’t even have the guts to tell her own husband she’s dying. All I need to do is plant a tiny seed of misunderstanding, and they’ll tear each other apart.] James walked straight past her and stopped in front of me. He handed me a beautifully wrapped bakery box. “Baby, the pastry isn’t as warm as it was out of the oven. Promise me you’ll come with me next time?” Tristan glared at him from the porch. “Flying across the Atlantic just to drag my sister to your boring meetings? Leave her alone.” James ignored him, wrapping his arms securely around my waist. He ducked his head, burying his face in the crook of my neck, inhaling deeply. He shot Tristan a provocative look over my shoulder. “I missed my wife. I can’t sleep when she’s not in my bed.” Tristan gritted his teeth, utterly helpless against James’s shamelessness. He looked at me. “Don’t listen to him, Sylvia. He’s been clingy since he was ten years old. He has no boundaries.” James smirked. “Sylvia and I are actual family. You, brother-in-law, are just an extended relative at this point.” They had hated each other since childhood. Tristan guarded me from James like he was fending off a thief. On my wedding day, my tough, stoic brother locked himself in the bathroom and cried until he hyperventilated. He hated James even more after that. I tugged on James’s sleeve, silently pleading with him to dial it back. But as I did, I noticed his eyes drift. He was looking at Lindsay. Lindsay’s inner voice shrieked with joy. [System! He looked at me! Oh my god, those eyes could make anyone melt. Is he interested?!] [Apologies, Host. Current scan shows the male lead’s affection for you is negative one thousand percent.] Lindsay refused to accept it. [But my DNA is identical to Sylvia’s! I look at least seventy percent like her, and I’m younger. No man can resist a younger version of his first love!] [Sylvia is only two years older than you,] the System stated flatly. Then, it hitched. […Wait. Alert. The male lead’s affection is rapidly rising. Negative eight hundred… negative five hundred… zero… positive one percent. Host, what did you just do? In less than a minute, his affection is in the green!] Lindsay puffed her chest out with pride. [What’s so surprising? I’m fresher, newer. They’ve been together for seven years and married for two. He’s probably bored out of his mind by now.] 3 My fingers tightened around the bakery box. James had only ever had eyes for me. He secretly bought a diamond ring when we were eighteen. The day we turned twenty-two, he practically dragged me to the courthouse to sign the marriage papers. In the early days of our marriage, he was insatiable. Even if my fingers just accidentally brushed against his arm, his eyes would darken with a heat that made my breath catch. But… it had been a long time since we shared a bed properly. Three months? Maybe longer? I couldn’t even remember. I forced my heart to slow down and kept my voice perfectly casual. “Let’s go home, James.” He took my hand, lacing his fingers through mine. As he did, his fingertips accidentally pressed against the plastic hospital band hidden beneath my cuff. His entire body went rigid. His jaw tightened, but he didn’t say a single word. A week passed in quiet routine. James was drowning in work. This time, his business trip was to London. Before he left, dressed in a sleek charcoal suit, he pinned me against the wall in the entryway, kissing me breathless. He kissed me over and over, like he was afraid I would vanish. “Be a good girl, Sylvia. Wait for me to come home.” I nodded, just like I always did. He lingered, his voice dropping low. “If anyone upsets you, you tell me immediately. Understand?” My fingers twitched. I thought about the post Lindsay had uploaded to her social media a few days ago. Just started my new job! My direct boss is painfully gorgeous. I want him so bad. The photo attached was her new corporate badge. The department listed was the Executive Office of Kensington Holdings. In the blurry background of the photo, you could clearly make out James’s broad shoulders as he stood looking out the floor-to-ceiling windows of his office. James had never allowed female assistants in his inner circle before. He always said he hated the drama, hated the rumors, and mostly, hated having to coax me if I ever got the wrong idea. I looked up at him. “Are you flying out alone this time?” James gave a soft “Mm.” Then he sighed, resting his forehead against mine. “Baby, you never come with me anymore. I wanted to take you to see the fireworks over the Thames.” I pinched his cheek gently. “Next time.” The moment his car pulled out of the driveway, I grabbed my keys and drove straight to the Sinclair estate. I pushed the door to my old bedroom open. Everything—my books, my clothes, my childhood memories—was gone. Replaced by Lindsay’s cheap perfumes and fast fashion. I slowly turned to look at Tristan, who had followed me upstairs. I waited for an explanation. Tristan looked incredibly guilty. He rubbed the back of his neck, refusing to meet my eyes. “Sylvia, you hardly ever stay here anyway. Since Lindsay liked the room, I figured it was easier to just let her have it. She’s a Sinclair, after all. She’s spent years struggling out in the world… it’s quite pitiful, really.” A hollow laugh escaped my lips. “Since when did you become the patron saint of charity, Tristan?” He didn’t have an answer. Just then, Lindsay walked out of the guest bathroom. She was wearing a sharp pencil skirt and carrying a small designer suitcase. I blocked her path. “Where are the things from my room?” She looked at me and offered a sickeningly sweet, mocking smile. “The maids threw them in the storage room downstairs. Now move, please. I have a flight to catch for a business trip. We can’t all sit around doing nothing like you.” Tristan stood right there. He watched my face carefully, evaluating my reaction. But he didn’t say a single word in my defense. The System’s voice echoed in my mind. [Host, Tristan’s affection level is now at one hundred percent. Congratulations, your progress is halfway complete! Once you conquer the Kensington family, you will successfully replace the female lead.] After Lindsay left, I turned my gaze to my brother. “Did you know she got a job at Kensington Holdings? As James’s personal assistant?” Tristan walked over and reached out to pat my head, just like he used to do when we were kids. “I pulled the strings to get her in, Sylvia. Kensington is a massive corporation. It’s completely normal for them to have female employees. You need to be more generous. Stop being so paranoid. Look, if having her around bothers you, just tell me what you want. I’ll buy you anything to make up for it.” My hands curled into tight fists, my nails biting into my palms. The Tristan standing before me—completely brainwashed by Lindsay’s System—was a stranger. The betrayal settled in my bones like ice. “And what if she wants to sleep with my husband?” I asked softly, a bitter smile on my lips. “What exactly are you going to buy me to make up for that?” Tristan’s face instantly darkened. His mouth pressed into a thin, hard line. After a long, tense silence, his voice turned uncompromising. “You’re overthinking this. James would never allow something like that to happen. Lindsay interning at Kensington Holdings was a family decision. It is not up for debate.” 4 I was in a daze all the way to the hospital. Dr. Aris stared at my lab results, his brow deeply furrowed. “Sylvia, you need dialysis twice a week. You are constantly missing your appointments. This is your body, your life. How can you be so reckless? …Are you even listening to me?” I blinked, pulling myself back to reality. I offered him an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry, Doctor. I know I’m making things difficult.” He let out a heavy, exhausted sigh. “Your file says you are married. Why does your husband never come with you? Where is your family? If we miraculously find a kidney match, we need a family member to sign the consent forms for the transplant.” I hadn’t told a single soul that I was dying. I only snuck into the hospital when James was out of town or buried in board meetings. “I don’t need a transplant,” I said softly, but firmly. “Conservative treatment is fine.” He looked at me like I was insane. “Without a transplant, your life expectancy is three months. At most.” “I know.” I forced the corners of my mouth up into a smile. “I don’t like taking things that belong to other people. Kidneys included.” The old doctor looked ready to throw his pen at me. The truth was, I was just too tired to fight. My mother died on an operating table during a transplant due to severe organ rejection. I refused to let my final days be a mirror image of her suffering. I had been agonizing over how to break the news to my family. But now… it was fine. Lindsay had arrived. Once her conquest was complete, the System would wipe me from existence. It would erase every trace of me from the minds of everyone I loved. That was perfect. They wouldn’t have to grieve. I lay back in the chair as the dialysis machine began to hum. I stared out the window at the gray sky. It suddenly occurred to me that James hadn’t sent me a single text all day. I unlocked my phone and opened my feed. Lindsay had just posted an update. So clumsy! Sprained my ankle out here. Attached was a photo taken inside a luxury private clinic. A man in a bespoke suit was kneeling in front of her, gently holding an ice pack against her bare ankle.

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My husband is practically useless when it comes to basic survival. He mixed bleach and ammonia toilet cleaner, gassed himself, and ended up in a vegetative state. The internet hailed me as an absolute saint for refusing to leave his side. But they have no idea. I just could not bear to abandon my own masterpiece. 1 My phone rang while I was at the local organic market haggling over the price of jumbo shrimp. Zane had texted me his mandatory menu for the day. He demanded a medium rare ribeye steak, garlic butter fried shrimp, and a delicate asparagus soup. Dessert was supposed to be homemade tiramisu. My plan was to grab the shrimp, hit the supermarket for espresso powder, and pick up that specific brand of cold pressed orange juice he liked. I absolutely despised this daily grocery run. But I had no choice. Zane refused to eat anything that wasn’t bought fresh that exact morning. The last time I caught a fever and dared to serve him frozen fish fillets, he locked me in the pitch black basement for two days to think about my mistakes. Right as I was bagging the shrimp, my screen lit up. “Hello, is this Olivia? This is Memorial General Hospital. Your husband…” A loud ringing drowned out the rest of the sentence. I dropped the groceries. Ignoring the vendor yelling at me to pay, I hailed a cab straight to the emergency room. By the time I arrived, Zane had already been wheeled into the resuscitation bay. Standing awkwardly by the double doors was Jason, his newly recruited gaming sidekick. “What happened? He gets regular checkups. How could he just pass out?” I grabbed Jason by the sleeves, shaking him with wide, panicked eyes. “Ma’am, please try to breathe. Let the kid explain.” I turned around to see two uniformed police officers walking toward us. I put on my best face of utter confusion. “Why are the cops here? Was Zane attacked?” Jason gently patted my back. “Liv, take a breath. I was the one who called 911.” He wore a mask of sorrow, but I caught the briefest flicker of cunning in his eyes before he looked down. I wiped a dry hand over my face. “Tell me what happened.” Jason explained that he showed up at our house at eight in the morning for their usual streaming session. He knocked for ten minutes. No answer. He called. Voicemail. “I figured he just overslept, so I called you, Liv. You gave me the garage keypad code.” I nodded, confirming the story. I originally told him to wait in his car since Zane hated people in his space, but Jason claimed he was about to wet himself, so I let him inside. The moment Jason opened the door, a thick, burning chemical stench hit him. Covering his mouth, he followed the smell to the master bathroom. “Zane was just lying there dead still on the tiles. I freaked out and called the cops. That is all I know.” 2 I looked away from Jason and stared blankly at the closed doors of the emergency room. Honestly, I was tearing myself apart inside. Half of me was terrified the doors would open and Zane would walk out completely fine. The other half was worried he would just drop dead on the table. After an eternity of waiting, the red light above the doors finally shut off. They wheeled Zane out. I stumbled forward, my face twisted into a perfect portrait of agony and desperation. Anyone watching would have sworn I was a woman deeply, madly in love. In reality, I just needed to know exactly how the rest of my life was going to play out. The doctor pulled down his mask. “We did everything we could. But he inhaled a massive amount of toxic gas. The lack of oxygen to the brain was severe. He will likely remain in a vegetative state.” Vegetative state. Those two words struck me like a bolt of pure electricity. I threw myself over Zane’s unconscious body and wailed. “Zane! It is all my fault. Why wasn’t it me? Please wake up!” One of the officers stepped forward to comfort me. “Olivia, his life is saved. The doctor said he might stay in this state, but medical science does miracles every day. There is still hope.” I nodded vigorously, keeping my mouth shut. I did not dare speak a single word. I knew if I opened my mouth, a wild, hysterical laugh would burst out. A vegetative state. This was absolutely perfect. Rest easy, my sweet husband. I promise to take exceptionally good care of you. 3 After filling out the endless admission paperwork, the police pulled me aside for a formal statement. “Our forensics team checked the scene. Someone mixed bleach with an ammonia based toilet cleaner. It created a massive cloud of chloramine gas, which dropped your husband instantly.” I nodded slowly. It sounded exactly like the tragic accident it was. Detective Harrison leaned against the wall, his sharp eyes locking onto mine. “Except… it is common sense not to mix bleach and ammonia. Did your husband really not know that?” He was probing. He was suspecting me. It made sense. Whenever a spouse nearly dies under weird circumstances, the partner is always suspect number one. Especially when the victim brings in the kind of money Zane did. I sniffled loudly, wiping my nose with a tissue. “He is utterly clueless about real life. His brain only has room for video games. I am not even joking, Detective. Whenever he uses the bathroom, he leaves the toilet brush for me. He does not know how to clean a single thing in that house.” “So he is a giant toddler?” a younger cop muttered under his breath. People outside our world could never fathom this kind of dynamic. Detective Harrison shot the rookie a glare before turning back to me. “He cannot even clean a toilet? Does he have a physical disability?” “Of course not!” Jason chimed in, eager to defend his idol. “Zane is one of the top gaming streamers on the platform. The guy pulls in six figures a month. Why would a guy like that scrub his own toilet?” Jason puffed out his chest. “You have no idea how jealous his fans are of Liv. If I could marry a guy with that kind of bank account, I would gladly wipe his ass for him!” Zane had used those exact words on me. He used to tell me that if I did not want to do the chores, I could pack my bags. He had a line of girls wrapped around the block begging for the chance to scrub his floors. Under the shocked gaze of the two cops, I offered a pathetic, embarrassed nod. Zane had no outside vices. He did not drink or party. His entire existence consisted of sleeping and screaming at his monitors. Every dime he made went straight into a joint bank account with my name on it. Unlike the toxic gamer bros online, Zane built his brand on being the ultimate romantic. He loved showing me off on stream. Whenever chat called me average or asked why he was with me, he would pull me into the frame and kiss my cheek. He would tell thousands of people, “My wife is the most perfect woman on earth. I would be nothing without her.” He wasn’t lying. He would literally be nothing without me. We met back in college. I spent my evenings studying in a dingy local gaming lounge where he worked the front desk. We were both broke kids from the boondocks, which drew us together instantly. Zane was incredibly handsome. Girls threw themselves at him constantly, but they only wanted his looks and the thrill of a bad boy. They always vanished after a few weeks. Then we got together. He told me I was the only girl who didn’t care about money, and he promised to give me the world once he made it big. During my junior year, I secretly recorded a clip of him landing an impossible sniper shot and uploaded it to social media. His ridiculous good looks combined with top tier mechanics made him go viral overnight. Once he tasted that ad revenue, the obsession began. He streamed day and night. At first, the goal was sweet. He wanted to buy a house in the city and marry me. But slowly, buried under a daily avalanche of people calling him a gaming god, he completely lost his mind. Right after graduation, he locked me away in his fortress. He proposed, handed me his bank card, and told me he owed his life to me. He said he wanted me to live like royalty. He said I never had to work a miserable office job or take orders from a boss ever again. He wanted me to be his little princess. He repeated this fairy tale on stream constantly. To his millions of followers, he was the wealthy, devoted, flawless husband. They thought I was the luckiest girl on the planet. “But what about reality?” Detective Harrison asked, his voice cutting through my memories. 4 I froze, genuinely caught off guard by the question. “Behind closed doors. Were you two really that in love?” Harrison pressed. Behind closed doors? Behind closed doors was a living nightmare. There was no princess. I was an unpaid slave. I served him like a dog. When he ate, I had to sit on the floor beside his chair in case he dropped his napkin. If he woke up thirsty at 3 AM, I had to have ice water ready before he even asked. He constantly sent me screenshots of toxic forum posts about how miserable other men’s wives were. He made his streamer friends complain on voice comms about their nagging girlfriends just so I could hear it. He brainwashed me into believing that taking care of his every bodily need was a privilege. He devolved into a monstrous infant. Sometimes, I would watch videos of exhausted women working two jobs just to feed their deadbeat husbands, and I would actually feel a sick sense of relief. I convinced myself I was lucky. Sure, Zane was lazy and demanding. But at least he wasn’t cheating on me. At least he didn’t hit me. We existed in that suffocating bubble until the afternoon I accidentally overheard his Discord call with Jason. Jason was hyping him up. “Bro, you have the cash, the fame, and you are insanely loyal. You are literally the perfect guy.” Zane snorted, a wet, ugly sound. Jason kept pushing. “Man, with all the IG models sliding into your DMs, do you really not get tempted? What exactly does Liv have that makes you so obsessed?” I heard the flick of Zane’s expensive lighter. He took a long drag. “Because she is obedient. And she is stupid.” My blood turned to ice. “What is the difference between Liv and those club girls? They all spread their legs the same way. Plus, who knows how many guys those models have been through. At least Liv is clean. Maybe those other chicks know a few more tricks, but whatever I want, Liv does it. Nurse, flight attendant, whatever messed up thing I ask for, she obeys.” Then came a dark, vulgar laugh that made my skin crawl. My face burned with a fiery shame. I felt like I had been stripped naked and thrown onto a busy intersection for strangers to laugh at. Zane kept talking. “And get this. She is incredibly dumb. I put all my stream money into that account, and she thinks I love her to death. But the PIN code? She only knows the first three digits. I changed the backend password months ago. She has zero access. Besides, the stupid bitch never leaves the house anyway. It is not like she has anywhere to spend it.” I stood in the hallway, completely paralyzed. The grand romance I had sacrificed my youth for was nothing but a cheap, calculated cage. But he was right about one thing. I never left the house. He claimed his gaming lifestyle made him out of shape, and he was terrified that if I went out, I would find a better looking guy. He weaponized his own insecurities to trap me inside. To make him feel “secure,” I was banned from buying nice clothes. I only wore the cheap, trashy lingerie he ordered online. At the same time, he demanded I stay perfectly thin. He said my weight gain would make me depressed, and he just cared about my mental health. So he bought a treadmill and forced me to run every morning while he slept. He said growing up poor made him paranoid about money, so he gave me a strict, humiliating weekly allowance for groceries and forced me to haggle over pennies at the market. Standing in the police station, I wiped a single, genuine tear from my eye. The only thing he ever calculated was how to break me. When I heard that conversation, I felt like someone had taken a baseball bat to my ribs. I couldn’t hear the rest of their chat over the deafening ringing in my ears. That was the first day I ever rebelled. At exactly three in the afternoon, the time I was supposed to serve his daily dessert, I was sitting on a dirty curb a mile away, just watching the cars go by. I realized I had spent years existing as a mindless drone. I had no thoughts of my own. My entire universe revolved around Zane’s moods. If he smiled, I smiled. If he raged, I scrambled to fix it. I felt like the tragic female lead in a bad novel who suddenly gains sentience. For the very first time, I knew with absolute certainty that I could not live like this anymore. 5 That night, I declined every single call Zane made to my phone. I went to a noisy sports bar, ate a massive plate of spicy wings, and went to a late night movie completely alone. When I finally unlocked the front door, Zane was sitting in the dark on the living room sofa. The air in the room was heavy and toxic. “Did you lose your phone or get kidnapped? Why the hell didn’t you answer me?” I glanced at him. The words I want to get a real job were right on the tip of my tongue. Before I could speak, his hand cracked across my jaw. The force sent me stumbling backward. “Are you deaf or just retarded?” he roared, his face twisting into something demonic. “I pay for your pathetic life! I keep a roof over your head! You cannot even do one simple task right. What is the point of you breathing?” Pure instinct took over. I swung back and scratched his neck. He did not expect me to fight back. His eyes widened in shock before pure rage took over. He kicked me square in the stomach, sending me crashing to the hardwood floor. He knew he had a live sponsor stream the next day and needed me to bring him drinks on camera, so he expertly avoided my face. He aimed his boots at my ribs and thighs. “You ungrateful bitch! You are nothing without me! I own you!” He only stopped when the doorbell rang. It was the pizza delivery guy. Zane froze, staring at his own trembling hands. Then he collapsed to his knees, crawling toward me with tears streaming down his face. “Liv… oh god, baby, I am so sorry. I do not know what came over me. I am a monster. Please forgive me.” He started aggressively slapping his own face. “I am garbage. Hit me, Liv. Punish me. I am so sorry.” I lay on the floor, staring blankly at the man sobbing over my bruised body. I thought about a stray dog my dad took in when I was a kid. The dog was sweet for years. Then one day, it snapped and bit my dad’s hand down to the bone. My dad didn’t hesitate. He grabbed his shotgun and put the animal down right there in the yard. I cried and asked him why he did it. My dad looked at me with cold, hard eyes. “Once a beast tastes blood, it will bite again. It is easier to just kill it and save yourself the trouble.” But Zane wasn’t a dog. If I shot him, I would spend the rest of my life in a concrete cell. That was a terrible trade. I needed a flawless plan. Something that would strip away his power, silence him forever, but keep his heart beating just long enough for me to take everything. I reached out, gently grabbing his wrists to stop him from hitting himself. I forced a wet sob out of my throat. “It is okay. I know you didn’t mean it. Just promise you will never do it again.” The very next day, he bragged to Jason on Discord that I was completely broken in. He said I didn’t even flinch anymore when he raised his hand. Of course I didn’t flinch. He was never going to get the chance to raise his hand at me again.

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1 “Mom, I cannot breathe. Ms. Melinda made me eat a peanut butter cookie…” The smartwatch speaker crackled with my daughter’s weak groans. Underneath her tiny voice was a high pitched, terrifying wheeze. I glanced at my phone screen. Exactly six minutes had passed since she was force fed that peanut cookie! For severe anaphylaxis, the golden window for emergency resuscitation is only fifteen minutes! I shoved the conference room doors open and sprinted toward the stairwell like a madwoman. My department head was still shouting my name from the head of the table. My husband David was on a business trip. My mother in law was completely useless and could not even tell the difference between a common cold and a severe allergy. I could not rely on anyone else. I was the only one who could save her. The preschool was only three traffic lights away. I slammed my foot onto the gas pedal and dialed the teacher’s number, roaring into the Bluetooth mic. “Stab her with the EpiPen right now! It is in the front pocket of her backpack!” A condescending giggle echoed through the car speakers. “Oh please, Rachel. Are you auditioning for a soap opera? It is just psychosomatic. She is throwing a tantrum. Let her drink some warm water and she will be perfectly fine.” “Shut up!” I screamed. My eyes were completely bloodshot. “If my daughter suffers permanent brain damage from oxygen deprivation, I will make sure you rot in a prison cell for the rest of your miserable life!” Without waiting for her to respond, I dialed emergency services. “911, what is your emergency?” “Southwood Avenue, Sunflower Academy! A teacher force fed my daughter peanuts. She is going into anaphylactic shock right now!” I jammed my wireless earbud into my ear and jerked the steering wheel hard. The Range Rover tires shrieked against the asphalt. I cut off a black sedan with a violent brake check. The other driver leaned out his window and cursed at me, but I could not hear the outside world. My brain was completely consumed by the sound of my daughter’s fading breath. The dispatcher remained professionally calm. “Ma’am, please take a deep breath. Does your daughter have a documented allergy history? What are her exact symptoms?” “Severe peanut allergy! I signed a medical waiver and a strict dietary restriction form the day she enrolled!” I bit down on my lip so hard I tasted copper. “She is suffocating! The teacher is actively refusing to administer her EpiPen! This is medical negligence! This is attempted murder!” “Copy that. I am dispatching paramedics to your location right now.” The rapid clacking of a keyboard echoed over the line. “Officers from the local precinct should arrive on scene within five minutes. Please drive safely.” The moment the call disconnected, my dashboard screen lit up with an incoming call from my boss. The second I answered, he unleashed a barrage of corporate rage. “Rachel, have you completely lost your mind? Where the hell are you going? The international pitch is at two thirty!” “The entire executive board is sitting in this room waiting for you. Get your ass back here right now!” The traffic light ahead flipped to red. I did not even touch the brake. I pressed the accelerator all the way to the floorboards. “Cancel the pitch. My kid is dying at preschool. I am going to save her.” “Dying? Stop giving me these pathetic excuses!” my boss sneered over the line. “You called out sick last month because she had a fever. What is the game this time? Do you even want this job anymore?” The heavy SUV launched through the intersection. A chaotic symphony of car horns blared from both sides. I stared at the congested traffic ahead with absolute ice in my veins. “Do whatever you want. Fire me. Dock my pay. Just leave me alone.” I cut the call and immediately blocked his number. Nothing in this universe mattered more than Deborah’s life. The smartwatch control app was still broadcasting live audio. Through the static, I heard Jessica Melinda’s shrill, nasty voice. “Stop playing dead! Get up off the floor.” “All the other kids ate my homemade cookies and they are perfectly fine. Why are you acting like such a fragile little brat?” “Oh, you are going to fake a panic attack now? Is this how your mother lets you act at home?” A loud screech of a chair being dragged across the tiles followed. “Deborah!” I screamed into the phone, my voice cracking. “Deborah, do not be afraid! Mommy is almost there. Just hold on!” There was no response from my sweet girl. Only a heavy, agonizing wheeze that sounded like someone was crushing her throat. “Jessica!” I yelled the teacher’s name, my entire body violently shaking. “Open her backpack right now! Take the red pen and stab it directly into her thigh!” “If you do not want to go to jail, you will do exactly what I say!” Jessica seemed slightly startled by the sheer ferocity in my voice. But a second later, she let out a scoff dripping with arrogant contempt. “Rachel, do you suffer from some sort of persecution complex?” “I took a child psychology seminar. This is a classic somatic symptom disorder. She just wants adult attention.” “The more you coddle her, the worse this behavior gets.” “I am going to cure her little princess syndrome today. She needs to learn that this classroom is not her personal kingdom!” My vision went black at the edges. My fingernails dug so deeply into the leather steering wheel they almost drew blood. This self righteous, ignorant fool had absolutely no idea how fast anaphylactic shock could kill. “I am going to say this one last time. Give her the shot.” My voice dropped into a terrifyingly calm, dead register. “If she dies, I will tear your entire world apart.” The line went dead silent for two seconds. Jessica was clearly rattled by the pure malice in my words. But her deep rooted arrogance prevented her from admitting a mistake. “Stop threatening me. I am going to take her to the washroom to splash some cold water on her face. That will wake her up.” Her footsteps faded away. The smartwatch only picked up the faint buzz of static. I checked the dashboard clock. Eight minutes had passed since the allergic reaction triggered. Ahead of me was a long, narrow one way street. Two massive delivery trucks were driving side by side, blocking the entire road at a snail’s pace. I laid on the horn. The truck driver just lazily tapped his brakes in response. Every single second of that fifteen minute window was slipping through my fingers. I caught a glimpse of my own bloodshot eyes in the rearview mirror. I whipped the steering wheel to the right. The Range Rover hopped the curb and plowed directly onto the pedestrian sidewalk. The undercarriage scraped against the concrete with a deafening screech. Pedestrians screamed and dove into the bushes. I kept my foot pinned on the gas, squeezing the massive vehicle between two thick oak trees. The entire right side of the car was violently scraped. The passenger side mirror shattered and snapped off completely. I did not care. As long as the engine was running, I was going to get there. I blasted out of the bottleneck. There was only one traffic light left before the academy. The smartwatch picked up the sound of running tap water. Then came Jessica’s impatient voice. “Are you done washing your face? Stop pretending you are dying. Nobody is buying it.” “Cough… Ms. Melinda… it hurts…” Deborah’s voice was a microscopic whisper. She sounded like she was fading away. “What hurts? You just want to skip afternoon gym class.” I heard a sharp smack. Jessica was physically slapping something. “Stand up straight! Stop sliding onto the floor!” Listening to those sounds felt like someone was taking a sledgehammer to my heart. She was abusing my daughter. My child was collapsing from asphyxiation, and this monster was physically punishing her. “Jessica, if you touch her one more time, I swear to God!” I roared at the microphone. Jessica snorted dismissively. “Look, Rachel. If you bring your kid to our academy, you need to trust our educational methods.” “We are building her resilience.” “Your toxic coddling is going to ruin this child.” She reached out and manually severed the smartwatch connection. The car cabin plunged into a suffocating silence. Only the sound of my own ragged breathing echoed off the glass. The traffic light ahead turned red. The countdown timer displayed a full sixty seconds. Cross traffic began to flow into the intersection. I never touched the brake. I pressed the gas pedal flat against the floor. The engine roared, and I launched the car straight into the crossfire. A massive dump truck loaded with gravel was barreling in from the side. The driver slammed his horn in panic. The giant steel grill of the truck missed my rear bumper by an inch. The pure kinetic force whipped my body sideways. My head slammed against the driver side window. A sharp burst of pain exploded across my forehead, and warm liquid began to drip down my eyebrow. I did not even wipe it away. My eyes were locked onto the brightly colored building sitting on the corner block. Sunflower Academy. Before the car even came to a full stop, I shoved the door open. The seatbelt dug painfully into my chest as I scrambled to unbuckle it. Because the car was still rolling, I basically tumbled out of the driver seat. My knees slammed brutally onto the concrete pavement. My sheer tights shredded instantly. A blinding pain shot up my legs. Blood and gravel mixed on my skin. I crawled up using my hands and feet, stumbling frantically toward the academy’s main entrance. The automatic sliding glass doors were locked tight. Inside the lobby, a young receptionist was looking down, endlessly scrolling on her phone. “Open the door!” I threw myself against the glass, pounding on it with both hands. “My daughter is dying! Open the fucking door!” The receptionist jumped in her chair. She looked up, her face twisting into a scowl when she saw a disheveled woman covered in blood banging on the glass. She walked over slowly, standing safely behind the glass. She tapped a printed sign taped to the window. “Ma’am, it is two thirty. This is not a designated pickup time.” “According to campus protocol, parents are not permitted inside.” I glared at her. My eyes were completely bloodshot and feral. “My daughter is in anaphylactic shock! Her rescue window is closing!” “Unlock this door right now! I will take full legal responsibility!” The receptionist rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest. “Look, lady, do not try that dramatic nonsense with me.” “Every single day, parents make up ridiculous excuses to pull their kids out early.” “If it is really an emergency, scan the QR code on that podium outside.” “Fill out the digital release form, wait for the homeroom teacher to approve it, and then I will unlock the door.” She pointed a manicured finger at a dusty sign sitting on the sidewalk. Looking at her cold, bureaucratic face, every last thread of my sanity snapped. “Screw your protocol!” I took two steps back and threw my entire body weight against the glass doors. My shoulder slammed into the tempered glass with a heavy thud. The glass did not break, but my entire left side went numb. The receptionist stepped back in shock. All the color drained from her face. “What are you doing? That is destruction of private property!” “If you do not stop, I am calling security!” She grabbed her walkie talkie and started calling for the guards. I ignored her entirely. Through the transparent doors, I looked deep into the main corridor. At the very end of the hall, right outside the children’s washroom, a tiny, familiar figure slowly slid down the wall and collapsed onto the floor. It was my Deborah. She was wearing the little pink sundress I had put on her this morning. Now, she was lying completely motionless on the cold ceramic tiles. Jessica was standing over her. The teacher actually used her foot to nudge my baby’s lifeless body. “Stop playing dead. Get up!” Her muffled voice drifted through the corridor. I lost my mind. I completely lost my mind. “Deborah!” I let out a bloodcurdling scream. I clawed at the seam of the glass doors with my bare hands. My fingernails bent backward and snapped. Blood smeared across the pristine glass. Seeing me act like a wild animal, the receptionist did not open the door. Instead, she pressed her entire body against the glass to ensure the magnetic lock held firm. “Where is security? Get to the front lobby right now! There is a crazy woman trying to break in!” She screamed into her radio, looking at me with pure disgust. “I am warning you! These doors are custom imported! You cannot afford to replace them!” I stood there panting heavily, staring at her through the glass. “Move away… my daughter is in there… she is dying…” My voice was hoarse and broken, laced with a despairing sob. A few other parents who had just dropped off paperwork stopped on the sidewalk. They stood a few feet away, whispering and pointing at me. I turned around, my knees buckling as I dropped to the ground in front of them. “Please. Please help me.” I grabbed the pant leg of a well dressed father. “Help me smash this door open. My daughter is in shock in there. We are running out of time.” “Please have some mercy…” The man quickly took a massive step backward. He aggressively yanked his leg out of my grip and brushed off his expensive slacks. “Lady, do not touch me.” “The school has security rules for a reason. You cannot just break in like a maniac.” A woman next to him with perfectly curled hair chimed in. “Seriously. Parents these days are so dramatic.” “What could possibly happen inside a premium academy? The teachers know what they are doing.” “If you keep screaming, you are going to terrify the children inside!” They stared at me with completely dead eyes. Not a single one of them was willing to help. Not a single one of them thought a child’s life was worth more than a glass door. I looked at them, then turned back to look at the receptionist leaning against the glass. A crushing wave of despair swallowed me whole. I slowly pushed myself up from the pavement. The blood on my knees had already mixed with the gravel and begun to clot. I was done begging. Expecting strangers to care was a death sentence. I turned my head and scanned the exterior of the building. Within seconds, my eyes locked onto a bright red emergency fire cabinet mounted on the brick wall. Behind the glass doors, the receptionist was still yapping. “You need to leave right now. Security is on the way. You are going to get arrested…” I ripped the designer high heel off my foot. I held it upside down, exposing the solid steel stiletto heel. I aimed for the four corners of the fire cabinet glass and swung with every ounce of strength I had left. Smash! Smash! The impact tore the skin on my palms. Blood splattered across the cabinet. With a loud crash, the reinforced glass spiderwebbed and collapsed onto the pavement. A few jagged shards sliced deep into the back of my hand and forearm. Bright red blood instantly welled up and dripped onto the concrete. I did not even flinch. I reached my bleeding arm straight into the jagged opening of the cabinet. I pulled out the heavy, solid steel fire ax. The red handle and the gleaming silver blade caught the afternoon sunlight, reflecting a cold, merciless shine. The surrounding parents let out terrified shrieks and scattered in every direction. The woman with the curled hair tripped over her own feet and scrambled away on all fours. I dragged the ax along the ground and walked back to the glass doors. The smug superiority on the receptionist’s face completely vanished, replaced by sheer, unadulterated terror. Her legs shook uncontrollably as she tried to back away, only to realize she was cornered against the security desk. “What… what are you doing?” She stuttered, her voice cracking in panic. “That is a felony! I am calling the cops!” I stared at her through the glass. My eyes were completely dead. “You make minimum wage. Do not throw your life away for this.” I raised both hands and lifted the heavy fire ax high above my head. “Go find your security guards.” The receptionist let out a piercing scream and abandoned her post. She scrambled away toward the back corridors, leaving her phone sitting on the desk. I took a deep breath, channeling every drop of adrenaline and fury in my body into my arms. I aimed the heavy steel blade directly at the U shaped metal lock connecting the two glass panels. I swung down with absolute brutal force. Crack.

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I bought a mini-fridge out of the goodness of my heart to help a student store her medication. Two weeks later, the medicine spoiled. She collapsed in the classroom, leaving her permanently disabled. Her parents protested at the school gates, weeping and hoisting banners that read, “Heartless teacher ruined our daughter!” I took care of her for ten agonizing years, but it was never enough. They demanded I marry her and support her for the rest of her life. I had a girlfriend whom I was forced to leave behind. On the way to her wedding, I suffered a sudden heart attack. When I opened my eyes again, I was back ten years in the past. Amy stood right in front of me, looking fragile and helpless. “Mr. Mercer, my medicine needs to be refrigerated, but there isn’t a fridge in the classroom…” I looked at her and said, “That sounds like a question for Facilities.” 1 I was reborn. I woke up at the exact moment Amy first claimed she needed a refrigerator for her medication. Behind her stood her three roommates, all of them my students. Four pairs of eyes stared up at me, wide and pleading. I was twenty-four, fresh out of a top-tier master’s program in philosophy. Hoping to eventually secure a tenure-track position, I had taken a temporary assistant job at this private university to build up my resume, all thanks to my mentor’s recommendation. In my past life, I was fueled by nothing but naive idealism. Hearing a student in need, I ran myself ragged trying to help. But when the administration told me to just submit a formal request and wait, I couldn’t bear to let her suffer. I paid out of my own pocket for a small fridge to speed things up. Two weeks later, she collapsed during a break. Only at the hospital did the truth come out. She didn’t have diabetes, and she wasn’t refrigerating insulin. She suffered from osteogenesis imperfecta, commonly known as brittle bone disease. It was incurable, requiring lifelong medication. An investigation revealed her medication had degraded because the fridge’s plug had slipped from the outlet, cutting off the cooling. Her parents demanded answers from the school, but the administration washed their hands of the matter, claiming the appliance wasn’t university property. They threw me under the bus. The public backlash was suffocating. My family was relentlessly doxxed and harassed online. Broken and desperate, I surrendered and took on the burden of caring for her. I carried that cross for ten years. But her family’s greed was bottomless. They demanded I marry her and support her parents too. I had a girlfriend whom I loved with all my heart. She waited for me for a decade. Realizing I would never escape this nightmare, I forced myself to be cruel, pushing her away so she could find a real life. She went back home to settle down. The night before her wedding, Amy had a flare-up, and I stayed up all night taking care of her. The next morning, as I drove toward the wedding venue just to catch a glimpse of her in her dress, my chest seized. A massive heart attack. My emergency medication was sitting right in the cup holder, but I didn’t reach for it. I didn’t call 911 either. Instead, a strange, profound peace washed over me. My only regret was for my girl. Today was supposed to be her happiest day, and here I was, ruining it one last time. 2 Now, I was back. Looking at these four hopeful faces, my chest burned with nothing but cold hatred and disgust. “Is the applicant Amy?” I asked, my voice flat. “If you require a refrigerator, you need to download the medical accommodation form online. Detail your condition, the storage requirements of the medication, fill it out, and submit it to Facilities. They will forward it to administration for procurement.” Her roommate, Maddie, a loud and self-righteous girl, frowned. “That sounds incredibly tedious. Won’t that take forever? Amy has diabetes. She needs insulin shots before every meal, right, Amy?” Exactly. Amy had never actually stated what her illness was. The diabetes rumor started because people saw her giving herself injections, and she simply let the rumor run wild without ever correcting anyone. Just like how she had never explicitly asked me to buy the fridge. In my past life, her roommates and I had made that decision for her. In my previous life, when her parents protested at the gates and made the evening news, the internet came for my throat. My parents, both respected high school teachers on the verge of a proud retirement, were forced into early resignation because of the scandal. Stripped of their pensions and forced to support me, they hid their own failing health from me to spare me the worry. Within a few years, they both passed away. I knew that even in death, my name would remain dragged through the mud. And the heroes of that story would be the four young ladies standing before me. Amy was the delicate princess, and the other three were her loyal handmaidens, eager to charge into battle on her behalf. In my past life, they were the ones who posted online, fabricated testimonies, and painted me as a creepy predator who bought the fridge to hit on his student. This time, I was going to sit back and watch who got burned. “The bureaucracy is what it is,” I said, gathering my lecture materials. “If you have any questions, take it up with your academic advisor.” I turned and walked away, feeling lighter than I had in a decade. I hadn’t even cleared the hallway before Amy’s whimpering voice drifted after me. “What’s wrong with Mr. Mercer today? He was so cold.” Maddie scoffed, comforting her. “Just dodging responsibilities. He’s just a green intern who can’t make a real decision to save his life. Don’t worry, babe, I’ll handle this.” 3 I was just a teaching assistant, barely two months into my internship. Aside from teaching, I was burdened with every scrap of administrative grunt work, and I didn’t even have my own desk. Back in my dorm, I pulled up the resignation portal, but my finger hovered over the submit button. First, my mentor had gone out of his way to secure this position for me to build my resume, and I hated to throw his kindness back in his face. Second, in my past life, I had tried to resign, but the university HR rejected the immediate release. By contract, even if I quit, I had to give a thirty-day notice. A month was more than enough time for everything to go to hell. If I couldn’t quit gracefully, I would have to get myself fired. Right then, my phone buzzed with a message in the family group chat. My uncle wrote: “Your grandmother hasn’t been feeling well. Her blood pressure spiked to 200 today, and the doctor is admitting her.” I had chosen this college because it was barely sixty miles from my hometown. I was about to reply that I would drive back tonight, but my cousin Mike, who worked as a doctor in the city, messaged back: “I’m heading home in a bit. Silas, someone gifted me two crates of fresh lychees. I’ll drop them off at your campus on my way out.” An idea sparked in my mind. I hurried back to my room, threw off my cheap teaching clothes, and changed into a high-end designer outfit that accentuated my height and sharp jawline. I looked ten times sharper than usual. My roommate, noticing the upgrade, raised an eyebrow. “Who’s the hot date? Is your girl coming to town?” I just smirked, offering no explanation. In my past life, when the walls closed in on me, not a single colleague spoke up for me, including this roommate. After all, we were both interns competing for the same permanent slot. I grabbed a designer leather bag worth thousands, the prominent luxury logo practically blinding him. His jaw dropped. “Silas, since when are you loaded?” Ignoring him, I swept out of the dorm and strode toward the campus gates like a peacock in full display, turning heads all along the way. 4 From a distance, I spotted Mike’s luxury SUV. I stood at an even six feet, but he was taller, wearing wire-rimmed glasses and exuding an effortless, scholarly charm. He was dressed in a similar style. In fact, most of my nice clothes were gifts from him, and the bag I held was one of his hand-me-downs. It was perfectly normal for an older, established cousin to help dress his younger, broke relative, right? Mike stepped out and popped the trunk to haul out the crates of lychees. Without warning, I threw myself onto his back, wrapping my arms around his shoulders just like we used to do when we were kids. He nearly stumbled into the trunk under my weight, but he caught himself, hooking his hands under my thighs to support me. “You absolute menace! You’re not ten years old anymore. You weigh a hundred and sixty pounds, you’re going to snap my spine!” He was a gym rat with solid muscle beneath his shirt, so I wasn’t worried. Instead of climbing down, I clung tighter. “Is Grandma going to be okay?” Mike sighed, adjusting his grip. “Don’t listen to my dad. Her blood pressure was fine when I checked her last week. He’s just using her as bait to drag me home for a blind date.” “Oh, I see.” Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed several students slowing down, whispering and pointing their phone cameras at us. I finally slid off his back, but immediately looped my arm snugly through his elbow. Mike handed me the crates, then reached over to ruffle my hair affectionately. “How’s the new gig? Colleagues treating you well? Are the kids behaving?” I flashed him a bright smile. “Everything is perfect. Don’t worry about me.” 5 After his car disappeared down the avenue, I stood there waving for a long moment before carrying the crates back to my room. The moment I walked in, my roommate met me with a bizarre, loaded look. “What?” I asked. He let out a strained, awkward chuckle. “Oh, wow. Lychees this early in the season? Those are my absolute favorite.” Usually, he would have helped himself without asking. But this time, I pointedly loaded them into my personal locker and clicked the padlock shut. “Sorry, these are special. None for you.” His expression shifted from awkward to outright disgusted. He grabbed a box of tissues he had previously borrowed and slid it back over to his side of the desk, clearly trying to draw a line between us. I opened the campus forum on my laptop. Sure enough, several threads had already popped up featuring “intimate” photos of Mike and me at the gate. I systematically saved every single screenshot. That afternoon, during roll call, the whispers followed me. Rumors that I was keeping a sugar daddy and showing off his wealth spread like wildfire. I didn’t offer a single word of defense, letting the gossip mutate. That was when I saw Amy and her entourage again. Maddie rolled her eyes so hard I thought they might get stuck. “Mr. Mercer, we went to Facilities during lunch. They said the university doesn’t buy individual appliances for students. We have to file a petition with administration. In the meantime, they suggested using the cafeteria freezer, but the kitchen staff told us it violates health codes and turned us away. Then we tried to buy a mini-fridge for the dorm, but the resident advisor threatened to write us up for a fire hazard!” I shrugged indifferently. “Well, looks like you’re out of options.” Amy looked up, her eyes wide and watery. “Mr. Mercer, could we keep a small one in your office? Or maybe your dorm room?” I shook my head. “I don’t have an office, and my dorm has the same strict utility policy.” Tears welled up in Amy’s eyes, trembling right on the edge of her eyelashes. Maddie, fiercely protective, patted her on the back. “Don’t cry, babe. I’ll buy one myself and put it in the student lounge. We’ll put a lock on it. It’ll be fine.” Yet Amy didn’t look comforted. Her gaze remained locked on me. Honestly, she was beautiful in a fragile, tragic way that naturally triggered people’s protective instincts. In my past life, I had gone out of my way to help her out of professional duty, never realizing it would feed a dark, twisted obsession. Maddie sneered, her voice dripping with venom. “Some educator you are. Dressing up like a runway model while ignoring a sick student in need. You don’t deserve this job. I’m filing a formal complaint against you today!” I rolled my eyes right back at her. “Oh, heavens, I’m absolutely trembling. Please, go right ahead. If you don’t file it by five, you’re a coward.” The four girls froze, utterly stunned. As an intern, I had always been desperate for a good evaluation, catering to every student whim. I was famous for being a pushover. This sudden hostility was completely out of character. Once they recovered from the shock, they aggressively whipped out their phones to draft emails to the dean. Instead of panic, I let out a dry laugh. “Look at you, acting like entitled toddlers. You think the universe revolves around you just because you’re pathetic? Do you ever look in a mirror?” Amy burst into tears. The other two roommates looked close to crying too, while Maddie stared at me like a raging bull. “You’re going to regret this,” she spat. I crossed my arms. “I’ll be right here. Give it your best shot.” Trembling with rage, Maddie jabbed a manicured nail in my direction. “Fine! Enjoy getting fired!” I believed her. These girls were failing students and terrible human beings, but when it came to character assassination and online harassment, they were absolute professionals. 6 By that evening, dozens of complaints flooded the dean’s inbox. The accusations were a wild, colorful mix: homosexuality, flaunting wealth, unprofessional conduct, and emotional abuse of students. The next morning, the department head called me into his office. He sat behind his mahogany desk, the campus forum pulled up on his monitor. On the screen was the photo of me clinging to Mike’s back, a bright smile on my face. He tapped the glass. “Silas, is this you?” “Yes.” “And who is this man?” “A friend.” The department head paused, adjusting his glasses. “Are you gay, Silas?” “That is personal, and it has no bearing on my job.” His expression hardened. “I asked you a direct question. I expect a proper answer.” “And I gave you one. It is irrelevant to my work.” The door clicked open, and the dean strolled in. My roommate trailed behind him like a loyal lapdog, casting a smug, victorious look my way. If I got booted, he would secure the permanent position automatically. Sometimes, this world feels like a cheap theater production run by amateurs. In my past life, I let people like this ruin me. It was pathetic. Let them burn. The dean looked down his nose at me. “Silas, I will ask you one more time. Are you homosexual?” “No comment.” “Then explain these photos.” “I am under no obligation to do so.” He let out a cold, humorless chuckle. “Who do you think you are? You haven’t even finished your internship, and you’re carrying this attitude?” I scoffed. He glared at me. “One final time. Are you gay?” “Are you discriminating against sexual orientation?” “That’s enough,” the dean interrupted, waving his hand dismissively. “His roommate already told us everything we need to know. We can’t have someone like you corrupting our students.” He straightened his tie. “You’re fired.” He delivered the verdict as if he were a medieval king handing down an execution. Yet his eyes betrayed his pettiness, lingering greedily on the designer logo of my bag. I spun on my heel and walked out. Minutes later, an official termination email from HR popped up on my phone. According to my contract, a termination without cause entitled me to a month’s severance. But HR claimed I wasn’t getting a dime, not even my final paycheck. An intern’s monthly pay was barely a few hundred dollars, which normally wouldn’t be worth fighting over. But wage theft is a sin, and I fully intended to make them beg me to take it later. For the first time in ten years, I was completely free. Before leaving, I went to the student lounge. I ripped out the water dispenser, the surge protectors, and the water jugs I had purchased with my own money, smashing them and throwing them into the dumpster. “Mr. Mercer, you took the water cooler! What are we supposed to drink?” a student complained. I stomped hard on the plastic jug, cracking it in half. “I bought this with my own money, and you’ve been freeloading off me for months. If some lunatic decides to poison the water and blame me, I’d rather smash it now.” As I tossed the last piece into the bin, I turned around to find Amy standing a few yards away, biting her lip and staring at me with tear-filled eyes. Every hair on my body stood on end. She didn’t look like a fragile young girl; she looked like a venomous viper ready to strike. I took an involuntary step back. It wasn’t cowardice; it was the sheer trauma of my past life screaming in my ears. She stepped closer, her eyes glittering with an obsessive, unsettling intensity. It wasn’t the look of a student for her teacher, or even a woman for a man. It was a spider sizing up a fat fly caught in its web. “Mr. Mercer,” she whispered. My stomach turned, and I spun to run. “Don’t go!” she cried out. I stopped and slowly looked back. The hatred inside me burned so hot my bones ached. I wanted nothing more than to wrap my hands around her neck. But I couldn’t. I had fought too hard for this second chance, and a bright future lay ahead. She closed the distance, tears cascading down her pale face in the dim corridor light. “I’ll talk to Maddie. I’ll make her withdraw the complaint. Everything will go back to normal. Please, don’t leave. If you stay, I’ll do whatever you want.” Her voice was soft, but her words carried a heavy, desperate weight, as if she were offering a sacred vow. I remembered my past life. During my second year of caring for her, she had taken my hand in the dead of night, dragging it onto her blanket, whispering, “Mr. Mercer, marry me. I’ll be so good to you.” At the time, I thought it was just dependency, a drowning girl grasping at her only lifeline, or perhaps a mind warped by chronic pain. I never realized that she had been spinning this web from the very beginning, and I had walked right into it. “Amy,” I said, dropping any pretense of professionalism, “you absolutely disgust me.” She froze, tears still wet on her cheeks. Slowly, her innocent mask melted away into a chillingly confident grin. “Oh, Mr. Mercer,” she giggled softly. “You’ll be back. I know you will.” I smiled right back. “I’ll be back, alright. For your funeral.” Leaving her standing there, I went back to my room, packed my bags, and checked out. I didn’t waste a single second escaping the place that had been my living hell for half a lifetime.

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When Eliot returned to the villa after his late department lecture, I placed his favorite truffle pasta on the table. I wanted to tell him that my mother had finally relented and agreed to our marriage. Instead, he tossed his car keys onto the table and wearily tugged at his tie, “I married my young Omega yesterday.” “What?” My fork paused mid-air. “Lila, the grad student I’m supervising, is pregnant with my child. She asked me to give her the status of my Luna.” “So, I went and registered our marriage with her yesterday afternoon.” My voice trembled uncontrollably: “Then what about these eight years I dedicated to you?” Eliot looked up at me, a slight smirk on his lips. “If you’re willing, we can still be family. You’ll always be the person I trust most.” I didn’t cry. I simply picked up that steaming bowl of truffle pasta, walked to the kitchen, and poured it into the trash can. Eliot frowned, his Alpha aura instinctively intensifying. “Seren, I hate it when you’re silently accusing.” “I’m already exhausted today, can’t you be more understanding?” I turned to face him, deliberately ignoring the oppressive feeling. “When did you register?” He rubbed his temples, speaking calmly: “Yesterday afternoon. Lila didn’t have classes, and the Elder Council was less busy, so we just went along.” “Just went along.” Yesterday afternoon, I was with my mother at the medical center for her check-up. She lay on the hospital bed, clutching my hand, saying: “Seren, I’ve thought it through. If you truly want Eliot, then get married. Even though he comes from an ordinary background, he’s looked out for us all these years.” I almost teared up then, quickly texting Eliot: “Mom agreed to our marriage, I’ve already booked the wedding for next week.” He didn’t reply. Turns out, he had already registered his marriage with another woman. I asked, “Does she know about me?” Eliot was silent for two seconds. “She knows, but she doesn’t mind. She’s young, insecure, and I wanted to give her a proper title, to let her stand proudly by my side.” Hearing his words, I felt my wolf inside me howling madly. “I’ve been with you for eight years, helped you handle the dissent within the Pack, supported you in becoming the Alpha, All these years, what have I been to you?” Eliot looked up at me, his eyes showing his usual arrogance. “Seren, you weren’t at a disadvantage either these past eight years.” “And even if I have a Luna, I’ll still give you some compensation. You can continue to live in this villa, and I’ll continue to provide you with academic resources. Surely, you’re satisfied with that?” I finally understood. His so-called compensation was to let me live in his villa, clean his house, and help him organize his research materials. My identity would just shift from a partner of eight years to his and Lila’s free housekeeper. I went into the bedroom to pack my things, and my hand stopped when I opened the closet. A row of unfamiliar girl’s clothes had appeared inside. Pink knitwear, lace-trimmed dresses, and a pile of erotic lingerie. I picked one up and asked him, “Is she moving in?” Eliot stood in the doorway, his tall figure blocking the hallway light. “Lila can’t sleep alone in the dorm, so she’ll sleep in your master bedroom from now on. You can stay in the guest room for now.” I took off the engagement ring he had given me and placed it on the table. It was a silver ring he bought the year he first became Alpha, with our initials engraved on the inside of the band. He said that once things in the Pack settled down, he’d replace it with a bigger, shinier diamond ring. Later, when his power was stable, he said he’d marry me after securing the key research project. But now, he already had another Omega. I pulled out my suitcase, ready to leave. Eliot suddenly panicked. He hugged me from behind, the familiar scent of cedarwood enveloping me. “Seren, I don’t want to lose you. I’m just settling Lila in first, she’s a child and can’t be without me. You’re different; you’re mature, steady. You don’t need me to protect you every second.” Held by him, I only felt a wave of physiological nausea. The doorbell rang. Lila stood at the door, wearing a man’s cashmere coat. I had waited in line for three hours to buy that for Eliot last winter. “Eliot, I’m here to pick up our marriage certificate.” Then, she looked at me and smiled, revealing her sharp little canines: “Seren, you’re here too.” I didn’t speak. She walked into the bedroom as if she owned the place, pulling open the drawer of my bedside table. The marriage certificate was pressed under an old photo album. On top of the album, there was also a letter. A letter my mother had written to Eliot. She had just finished it yesterday and asked me to pass it on. The first line of the letter read: “Alpha Eliot, I entrust Seren to you from now on. May you protect her life’s peace and stability, and guard the White Pack well.” Lila picked up the letter, blinking. “Is this from your mother to both of you? Oh, I’m sorry, should I not be looking?” I reached out to take it. But Eliot snatched it away first. A corner of the letter was torn. Watching him shield Lila, I suddenly felt he was a complete stranger.

I forcibly snatched the letter back. Lila cowered behind Eliot, her shoulders trembling slightly, as if she were frightened. Eliot soothed Lila, then turned to face me, his expression darkening instantly. “Seren, you’re emotionally unstable right now. Don’t go to the faculty tomorrow, and don’t participate in the full professorship tenure review meeting either.” I looked at him. “I’m an associate professor in the biology department. The full professorship review is decided by the University Academic Committee, it’s not under your authority as department head. Furthermore, this is White Pack territory. You don’t have the authority to ground me.” Lila’s tears started to fall immediately, her voice soft and trembling. “Seren, I really didn’t mean to steal your things. I just love Eliot too much; I couldn’t control myself.” I laughed out loud. “Well, you certainly know how to love, loving enough to steal someone else’s mate.” Eliot lowered his voice, a warning in his tone. “Don’t be so harsh. We’re all members of the White Pack; if word gets out, other Packs will laugh at us.” My phone rang. It was the Pack’s medical center. “Seren, your mother has suddenly shown early signs of organ failure, and her blood pressure is unstable. Please come immediately.” I grabbed my bag and left. Eliot subconsciously followed. A flicker of warmth unexpectedly bloomed in my heart; Eliot wasn’t completely heartless after all. And as the Alpha of the White Pack, he had the power to mobilize the best doctors and top-tier treatment equipment. But the next second, Lila clutched her stomach and crouched down, letting out a soft whimper. “Eliot, I’m dizzy…” “I didn’t eat last night; the baby might be unstable.” Eliot’s footsteps stopped. He glanced at me, his voice reassuring. “You take a cab there first.” “I’ll take Lila to the medical center’s obstetrics department; I’ll be there to join you soon.” I didn’t speak. As the elevator doors closed, I saw him scoop Lila into his arms, holding her carefully as if she were a priceless treasure. In the taxi, I called him three times. No answer. When I arrived at the medical center, my mother’s face was ashen, and she was already semi-conscious. The nurse pushed a risk disclosure form in front of me. “Please sign, we may need to initiate organ suppression therapy or even resuscitation immediately.” My hand trembled so much I couldn’t write my name. For eight years, Eliot always said, “From now on, your mom is my mom. White Pack’s medical resources will always prioritize her.” He said I didn’t need to be afraid, he’d handle everything at the medical center. But when this day actually came, I was still the only one waiting outside the hospital room. Outside the emergency room, I opened my phone. The first post on the White Pack forum was from Eliot. In the photo, he and Lila held up their marriage certificate, both smiling happily. The caption read: “My love, my only Luna.” The post time was when I made my third call. Below it, many faculty members liked the post. Lila replied: “Thank you, everyone. Eliot said he’s treating everyone to a big dinner tonight.” I stared at that line, my palms slowly growing cold. When my mom woke up, her first question was, “Where’s Eliot? Why didn’t he come?” I flipped my phone face down in my palm. “He’s handling urgent Pack matters and can’t get away.” A family member of the patient in the next bed, an older member of the Pack, suddenly leaned over. “Alpha Eliot got married yesterday, Seren. Why wasn’t the bride you?” “Look at the photo Alpha Eliot posted on the forum.” She handed her phone to my mother. I didn’t have time to stop her. When my mother saw the photo, her breathing suddenly became rapid, and the monitor emitted a sharp alarm. I rushed out to call the doctor. As I ran to the nurses’ station, I saw Eliot and Lila, holding hands, distributing wedding favors to several familiar medical staff. He had brought Lila for her prenatal check-up and casually announced their marriage to acquaintances in the Pack. Someone joked, “Alpha Eliot, you kept that quiet! You already have a child so soon?” Lila blushed and leaned against him. Eliot saw me and frowned slightly. “Why aren’t you in the room looking after your mother? Don’t you know she’s not well? How can you be casually strolling around outside?” I threw my mother’s critical condition notice in his face. “Eliot, how dare you say such a thing?” “My mother just had an attack after seeing your post on the forum.” The medical center lobby instantly fell silent. Lila’s tears started again. She softly said, “Seren, don’t blame Eliot. It’s my fault; I insisted he post it on the forum.” Eliot shielded her, his voice filled with anger. “This is the White Pack’s medical center. Do you have to cause a scene here and let other Pack members laugh at us?” I looked at the box of wedding favors still in his hand, and suddenly found it all very laughable.

“How can you blame me?” “Didn’t you insist on making your marriage known to everyone?” No one in the lobby spoke. Lila leaned behind Eliot, softly sobbing. Eliot lowered his voice. “Seren, don’t disrupt the medical center’s order, and don’t jeopardize your own full professorship review. Don’t forget, your mother’s treatment plan still needs my signature and approval.” “You’re the one disrupting the order.” “My mom is in the emergency room, and you’re here celebrating your marriage.” Someone bowed their head, pretending to sort through patient files. Lila suddenly covered her mouth and made retching sounds. “I want to throw up…” The Pack members nearby immediately started to tease. “Already having symptoms after just getting married? Alpha Eliot, you’re quite something!” Eliot’s expression changed, and he immediately supported Lila. “Let’s go for a blood test first to check the baby’s condition.” My mom was still in the emergency room. But he stayed by Lila’s side, not leaving her for a second, as she went to get blood drawn. I stood at the lab window, watching him carefully label the blood collection vials himself, his actions painstakingly precise. Lila touched her stomach, smiling down. “I hope the baby grows up healthy.” Eliot said in front of everyone: “Once the baby is stable, I’ll give you a proper home and the most lavish wedding.” I thought those words had nothing to do with me. Until that evening, when I returned to the Pack’s Alpha residence and saw an agreement on the table. “Villa Residency Arrangement Agreement.” It stated: “To facilitate Lila’s pregnancy, Seren voluntarily moves out of the master bedroom into the guest room and provides unpaid assistance with Lila’s academic and Pack-related living affairs.” I held the paper and laughed for a long time. This villa was left by my father; it was the White Pack Alpha’s exclusive territory. Eight years ago, when I supported Eliot’s ascent, I voluntarily transferred ownership of the villa to him. I paid for the renovations, and I’ve been paying all the property management and maintenance fees all these years. Now he was making things very clear. The master bedroom for Lila. I had to give up the Luna title, and now even my bed. I asked, “What does this agreement mean?” Eliot sat on the sofa, fidgeting with the Alpha’s crest ring. “Lila is pregnant, and the master bedroom gets good sunlight, suitable for pregnancy. Plus, it’s close to my study, so I can easily look after her.” I spread the agreement in front of him. “This is my father’s villa.” “What about everything I’ve contributed to the Pack all these years?” He frowned. “It’s an eight-year relationship, don’t make it sound so ugly. We’re all White Pack members; why be so meticulous?” Lila came out of the kitchen with water. She was wearing my apron, like a real mistress of the house. “Seren, don’t worry, I won’t stay for free.” “I’ll pay you eight hundred dollars a month, okay? Just as rent.” I almost laughed out of anger. “Eight hundred?” “Are you kidding me?” I picked up the agreement and tore it to shreds. Eliot suddenly grabbed my wrist, his grip astonishingly strong; I couldn’t break free. “If you continue like this, I’ll have no choice but to transfer your mother to the general treatment ward.” I looked up at him. “The schedule for organ suppression therapy doesn’t necessarily require my signature. The medical center’s top physicians only follow the Alpha’s orders. Also, the department’s recommendation for your full professorship review was written by me.” Lila suddenly stopped crying, standing behind Eliot, looking at me triumphantly. I slowly pulled my hand away. “Eliot, are you threatening me with my mother’s life and my future?” He avoided my gaze. “I just want you to calm down. Don’t escalate this to the Elder Council; it won’t be good for anyone.” I nodded. “Okay.” “I’ll make you regret it.”

The next day, I went to the department as usual. The first thing I did in my office was to export all evidence of my support for Eliot’s ascent to Alpha over the years. This included the votes I secured for him when he ran for Alpha, the chat logs of me handling the Pack’s opposition, proof of my financial contribution to the villa, and records of my mother’s medical information being managed by him. I uploaded each file to the cloud, making encrypted backups. Eliot sent me a message. “Don’t make a big fuss. Let’s talk tonight at home. I’ll make Lila apologize to you.” I didn’t reply. At ten in the morning, Lila came to my lab. She handed me an experimental data report for her graduation thesis. “Seren, this is my thesis data. Can you fast-track the review for me? The defense is next week.” The students in the lab instantly fell silent. I said according to procedure, “Get your supervisor’s signature, follow the department’s normal review process, and queue up.” Lila’s eyes welled up. “Seren, are you still mad at me? I really know I was wrong.” I handed the report back. “This is a lab, not your living room. Follow the rules.” She bit her lip and left. To avoid any appearance of impropriety, I personally handed her report to the department secretary, ensuring every step was logged. The review results came out at noon. All her experimental data was fabricated! Lila’s face changed instantly when she received the results. Half an hour later, news came from the department. Lila had fallen in the lab, bleeding from her lower body, possibly a miscarriage. A little while later, Lila appeared at the lab door, holding her stomach, supported by a classmate. “Seren, you can hate me. But the child is innocent.” The students’ gazes at me changed. The Dean also rushed over. “Seren, please suspend your work and cooperate with the joint investigation by the university and the Elder Council.” I said, “Check the lab surveillance, the data audit logs, all operations are traceable.” Eliot interrupted me. “Lila fell and miscarried because you provoked her. You knew she was pregnant, yet you deliberately made things difficult for her and rejected her thesis.” I looked at him: “How can someone who isn’t even pregnant have a miscarriage?” Lila cried, trembling all over. Eliot threw a stack of documents in front of me. The papers scattered. It was my mother’s supplementary payment notice for organ suppression therapy. And an application to adjust her treatment ward. He looked at me coldly, “Kneel down and apologize to Lila right now. I guarantee your mom will still have access to top-tier treatment tonight, and I’ll still write you a recommendation for your full professorship review.” Everyone in the lab was looking at me. My full professorship. My mom’s life. My eight years of dedication. All pressured into one apology. I bent down to pick up the documents. At the bottom was one of Lila’s medical reports. It read: “No signs of pregnancy, no fetus present.” I looked up at Eliot. Panic finally appeared on his face. Lila screamed, “That’s not mine! It’s my classmate’s!” The next second, the Dean’s office door was pushed open. Representatives from the University Academic Committee and the Elder Council stood at the entrance. “Associate Professor Seren, you are suspected of academic suppression, fabricating experimental data, and causing a student’s miscarriage. Please immediately accept a suspension for investigation.”

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To come back home and marry me, Hayden Cross spent four whole years stationed at an overseas peacekeeping base. Everyone knew Hayden would lay down his life for Vivian Sterling. In his first year, just to secure a priority slot to return home, he charged single-handedly into a war zone to rescue hostages. He came back with not a single inch of his body unscathed, but he clutched that application form like his life depended on it. In his second year, to retrieve a lost engagement ring in the jungle, he waded through a swamp for three days and three nights. Even burning up at 104 degrees, he was still calling out my name. In his third year, to earn merit, he patrolled the most dangerous border line for six straight months. When he came back, both his hands were so badly frostbitten that the flesh was raw and bloody—he nearly had to have them amputated. I had always believed he wanted to marry me more than anyone else in the world. I was carrying handmade leather candy I’d brought all the way from New York. It was Hayden’s favorite flavor. Because of the long journey, I’d been holding it carefully against my chest the whole way, terrified that even a single piece would break. “Captain Cross, the documents from headquarters have arrived.” The communications room door was ajar, and the fax machine was screeching, spitting out a red-stamped document. My hand, just about to push the door open, froze midair. Through that narrow gap, I saw Hayden with his back to me, staring at the document he’d just received. On it, four glaringly red characters were stamped: 【APPROVED FOR RETURN】. In that instant, I almost cried out loud. After 1,800 days and nights of waiting, I had finally lived to see his return. But in the next second, what Hayden did made my entire body feel like it had plunged into an ice cave. His long fingers slowly and deliberately picked up a pen, and stroke by stroke, he added a single word in front of those four red characters. 【NOT】. The red “Approved” became a black “Not Approved.” His hand was steady, the sound of the pen tip gliding across the paper was so soft—yet it shattered my five years into pieces. “Captain Cross, this is the fifth time.” The deputy captain’s voice rose, thick with confusion. “Miss Sterling has waited five years at home for you. The higher-ups finally approved it this time. Why are you turning it down again with your own hand?” Hayden set down the pen, his voice carrying a coldness that chilled me to my bones: “Vivian has a steady personality and is easy to console. She has her parents in New York to take care of her. Her life is stable. Waiting another year won’t matter.” “But Lily can’t.” He paused, his tone carrying a tenderness and helplessness I’d never heard before. “Lily has been serving as my accompanying medic these past five years. She got all her injuries trying to save me. She has severe post-war trauma. The moment I leave, she’ll self-harm from the shock.” “Lily said the day I go home to get married will be the day she ends her life. I owe her five years of companionship. I have to repay it.” I gripped the box of pastries against my chest, my fingertips turning white from the force. So all this talk of relentless gunfire and overwhelming missions for five years—it had all been lies he told to protect another woman. When he was in military academy, Lily Hartman had already been his personal assistant. They had risked their lives together on this land for five years. Meanwhile, I’d waited in New York like an idiot for five years because of his “military orders are absolute.” Just last month, he had even said in a video call: “Vivian, when I come back, we’ll have the wedding.” Liar. Hayden Cross, you are nothing but a liar.

“What about Miss Sterling? What about her five years of waiting? Aren’t you afraid of breaking her heart by treating her like this?” The deputy captain’s tone carried a hint of accusation. Hayden was silent for a long time. So long that I thought he might feel even a sliver of guilt. Then he suddenly stood up and crisply unbuttoned his uniform. He took the tactical belt down from the wall, his voice calm: “That’s why I’ll never let her find out the truth. Tonight, I’ll run a hundred laps around the field carrying sixty-six pounds of weight. I won’t stop until I finish. These hundred laps will be my atonement to her.” In tropical heat, running a hundred laps carrying sixty-six pounds—that was torturing himself to the edge of death. I stood outside the door, listening to his heavy footsteps echoing on the scorching rubber track. “Thump, thump…” Each sound felt like a slap across my face. If this had been the old me, I would have rushed over crying to stop him, would have stayed up all night applying cold compresses out of heartbreak. I remembered two years ago, when he said in a video call that he’d been slightly injured, I sobbed uncontrollably. Across the screen, his eyes were as gentle as water: “Vivian, don’t cry. Every tear you shed shatters me here once more.” But now, I just stared numbly as he ran beneath the night sky. He was using this self-harming form of penance to kidnap my guilt. He’d cover himself in wounds to make me ache for him, to make me afraid to push. These hundred laps weren’t to marry me. They were the psychological currency he paid so he could stay by Lily’s side with a clear conscience. I turned around and threw the box of pastries I had carried across three thousand miles directly into the base’s incinerator. It was his favorite New York leather candy, made by an old craftsman I had searched high and low to find. Now, in the flames, it slowly melted into black charcoal. Due to wartime communication restrictions, I could only use the satellite phone in the communications room to call back home to Brookhaven. The call connected, and my mother’s gentle voice came through. “Vivian, did you see Hayden? Is he still not coming home this year?” Mom sighed, her voice full of heartache. “I’ve said it all along—if a man truly wants to marry you, he can do it even if the sky falls down. You’ve wasted five years of your youth in New York. Are you really going to keep waiting?” I listened to Hayden’s silhouette running on the field outside the window. “Vivian, listen to Mom. Come home.” “Do you still remember Trevor Bennett? He was transferred back to Brookhaven last year as Deputy Director. He’s been waiting for you. He said as long as you’re willing to come back, the Bennett family can hold the wedding anytime. Mom just doesn’t want to watch you debase yourself any longer.” Six years ago, for Hayden’s sake, I had rejected a stable life and rejected my childhood sweetheart Trevor Bennett. “Mom,” I spoke, my voice without a single ripple. She paused on the other end: “Vivian?” I looked at the blood-red sunset on the horizon, and the last flicker of fire in my heart went out. “I’m not waiting anymore. I’ll come back to Brookhaven tomorrow and marry Trevor Bennett.” After hanging up, I didn’t go find Hayden to make a scene. I went back to the family reception room and began packing all my things. His uniform hung on the wall; a photo of us sat on the table. In the photo, he had his arm around my shoulder, smiling with such devotion. I dug out the medal he had sent home last year. He’d said he’d earned it with his life and that it would be our token of love. Now, the medal glinted coldly under the lamplight, like a resounding slap. I dropped it into the toilet and pressed the flush. It disappeared without a trace.

Because of last night’s weighted run, Hayden had collapsed right there on the field. When I walked into the base infirmary, Hayden was lying on the hospital bed, eyes closed, hooked up to an IV. Lily, dressed in a white coat, was sitting beside the bed, gently dabbing his cracked lips with a water-soaked cotton swab. Her movements were tender. “Captain Cross is just too stupid,” Lily said without lifting her head, her voice low. “He pushes himself this hard every time just to get back to New York sooner to marry that Miss Sterling. But doesn’t he think? With all these injuries, who’s going to take care of him when he gets back?” I stood at the door watching this scene, my heart constricting like it was being squeezed by a steel wire. I could barely breathe. Once upon a time, Hayden had taken care of me like this too. The year I caught a cold that turned into pneumonia, he ran three blocks through a blizzard just to buy me the pear soup I’d craved. When he came back, his eyebrows were caked with ice. While blowing on the soup to cool it, he coaxed me in a soft, heartbroken voice: “Vivian, good girl. Drink this and it’ll stop hurting. From now on, I’ll watch over you. I’ll never let you get sick again, not for the rest of your life.” Now, that same tenderness, he was giving to someone else. Hearing the noise, Lily turned her head. Seeing it was me, a flash of panic darted across her eyes. “Miss Sterling? When did you get here?” She jolted to her feet, the water cup in her hand crashing to the floor. Hayden startled awake. He opened his eyes, and the instant he saw me, his pupils contracted sharply. “Vivian… why are you here?” His voice was hoarse, and he instinctively tried to sit up, but the movement pulled at the wounds on his back, making him break out in a cold sweat from the pain. “I heard you self-harmed again to marry me, so I came to see,” I said calmly, walking to the bedside, my gaze sweeping over his blistered hands. “Hayden, I almost believed it.” Hayden’s face stiffened for a moment, then he looked urgently at Lily: “Lily, step outside first. Vivian and I have things to discuss.” Lily bit her lip, her eyes rimmed red: “Your wounds haven’t been re-dressed…” “Out!” Hayden’s tone hardened. Only then did Lily leave, glancing back every few steps. Just before stepping out, she deliberately adjusted the work badge on her chest. I saw it clearly—it was the position of Chief Accompanying Medic for the peacekeeping base. A position that should have belonged to the specialist sent from headquarters. So Hayden had used his authority to forcibly keep Lily by his side for five full years. “Vivian, listen to me.” Hayden grabbed my hand desperately. “Last night I just felt guilty, felt I’d let you down, so I wanted to burn off some energy. Lily is just the doctor here. There’s really nothing between us…” “Nothing?” I looked down at him, my eyes filled with nothing but cold mockery. “Hayden, you dared to reject the return-home marriage approval with your own hand. What am I really to you?” Hayden’s breath suddenly stopped, panic flooding his eyes: “You… you saw?”

“Saw what?” I tilted my head and gave a pretend-confused smile. “Saw you personally write an application for a one-year extension? Or saw you putting on this whole martyr act for atonement?” Hayden’s face turned from white to green. “Vivian, let me explain. Lily really is very ill. She can’t survive without me…” “Enough.” I cut him off, exhausted beyond measure. “I don’t want to hear a single word of your explanation. If you love her so much, then keep staying to be with her. One year, nine years, even a lifetime—do whatever you want.” I shook off his hand and turned to walk out of the infirmary. Behind me, Hayden was still frantically calling out my name, but I didn’t stop. Walking out of the infirmary, the sunlight stabbed at my eyes. I pulled out my phone and dialed my mother. “Mom, please contact the Bennetts. Tell Trevor I’ll be back in Brookhaven the day after tomorrow. If he’s willing, we’ll go register the marriage the first day we meet.” My mother was stunned for a long while on the other end, then answered with a trembling voice: “Okay… okay! Mom will arrange it right now! Vivian, I’m glad you’ve come to your senses. Mom will wait for you in Brookhaven.” I returned to the temporary guest house. This room was filled with old keepsakes I had collected for him over five years. Every letter he had written me had pressed dried flowers I loved stuck to the envelope. Every medal he’d given me, I had carefully wrapped in red velvet boxes. There were also stubs from every plane ticket from when I’d flown across the world to see him. I once thought these were proof of love. Now I saw them as evidence of my own stupidity. I found a huge trash bag and started clearing them out one by one. The medals went into the trash bag. Those memory-filled photos, I crumpled into balls and threw away. I saw the fountain pen he had once given me. I remembered him saying: “When we get married, I’ll use this pen to sign my name on our marriage certificate.” I gave a cold laugh, grabbed the pen, and snapped it hard against the corner of the desk. The expensive barrel cracked open, ink splattering across my hand. I threw away the last thing belonging to Hayden. The room became empty—just like my heart. Just then, hurried footsteps came from outside the door. Lily pushed the door open, her eyes triumphant. “Hayden has already submitted another stay application for me. In this war zone, no one can replace my position—and no one can replace his place in my heart.” She walked up to me, her tone full of venomous provocation: “What does waiting five years matter? The person who’s slept beside him for five years is me. The person who survived death with him is me. You’re just a joke living in a fantasy.” I looked at her and felt that she was pitiful. She thought she’d won. What she had schemed so hard to steal was a piece of garbage I didn’t even want. “Lily.” I looked at her calmly, even revealing a genuine smile. “Congratulations. I don’t want this piece of trash anymore. I hope you can guard him for the rest of your life.” The smile froze on Lily’s face. I picked up my light suitcase and walked right past her, out the door. “Tell Hayden for me—ninety-nine laps is too few. What he owes me, he can’t repay even in this lifetime. But it’s okay. I’m generous. I’m giving him to you two.”

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The Sterling family, who had always longed for a daughter, finally welcomed their little heiress, Lily Sterling. Grandpa Richard Sterling was so thrilled he immediately announced he’d be leaving his multi-billion dollar fortune to Lily. But at her welcome party, the private doctor, Dr. Reed, knelt on the floor, his face ashen. “Mr. Sterling, Lily is very frail. She’s in respiratory failure. I’m afraid… I’m afraid she won’t make it through the night!” Mrs. Evelyn Sterling fainted on the spot. Hearing this, Lily’s eight older brothers charged towards me, ready to give me, the newly hired intern nanny, a good beating. I was trembling with fear, about to explain, when a furious baby voice suddenly echoed in my mind: “The perfume on that woman in the white dress is poisonous! I only faked my breathlessness because I smelled it! Quick, get me to somewhere ventilated!” “After pulling a VIP spawn with 100,000 good karma points, I’m getting poisoned right out of the gate? Whoever saves me gets a billion dollars!” The next second, I lunged towards Lily.

“Don’t touch her!” I pushed away the maid blocking the crib and scooped up the baby, swaddle and all. Just then, Ethan Sterling, the eldest son, strode forward, veins bulging on the back of his hand. “Are you trying to get yourself killed?!” I clutched the baby and backed away several steps, my back hitting the wine cabinet, making the glasses clink loudly. “She’s not dead! She can still be saved!” Dr. Reed, who was still kneeling nearby, his face darkening, immediately stood up. “Nonsense!” “The child is in severe respiratory failure, her cardiopulmonary function is almost at a standstill. What do you, an intern nanny, know?!” Sarah White, Mr. Sterling’s secretary, had red-rimmed eyes, but her fingers were tightly clenched. “Chloe, I know you just started and are afraid of taking responsibility, but you can’t torment the baby like this.” “Lily is already so pitiful, why are you making her suffer more?” As she spoke, she moved two steps closer to me. That sickly sweet perfume scent wafted into my nose again. The little thing in my arms screamed in my head. “That’s the smell!” “Back off, back off! If I smell it again, I’ll really kick the bucket!” My scalp tingled, and I quickly dodged sideways with the baby, putting some distance between us and Sarah. Mr. Sterling, David, who had been by the unconscious Evelyn’s side, suddenly whipped his head around, his eyes bloodshot. “What did you just say?” My palms were sweating from nerves. “Lily isn’t dying naturally; she was poisoned, which caused her to stop breathing.” “She can’t stand this strong scent. She needs to be taken to a well-ventilated place immediately!” Dr. Reed’s face changed, and his voice shot up. “Absurd!” “I’ve been practicing for twenty years! Are you saying I can’t even tell if an infant is breathing or not?” “Mr. Sterling, this nanny is clearly trying to shirk responsibility and is deliberately spreading baseless rumors!” Noah Sterling, the third son, slammed his fist on the table, shattering a wine glass. “Lily has always been fine, how could she suddenly be poisoned?” Hearing this, Sarah White’s eyes immediately reddened. “It’s all my fault…” “I just thought Lily was so cute and got a bit closer to look at her. If I had known Chloe would make a fuss over it, I wouldn’t have gone near her.” The baby’s voice in my arms was trembling with anger. “She’s faking it! Still faking it!” “She didn’t spray ordinary perfume at all; it’s mixed with irritants that are deadly to infants!” I gritted my teeth and looked up. “Mr. Sterling, there’s something wrong with the perfume she’s wearing!” Sarah White’s face subtly changed, but she quickly approached me again, her eyes red. “What do you mean?” “I’m kindly comforting Mr. Sterling, and because you can’t save the child, you want to pin the blame on me?” The Sterling sons’ gazes grew colder and colder. My legs were shaking, but the little one in my arms was growing weaker, and the voice in my head kept urging me. “Get me out of here! There are too many people in this room, and the air is stale. I’m going to suffocate!” I took a deep breath, deciding to go all in. “Now isn’t the time to assign blame!” “Any more delay, and Lily really will lose her life!” Dr. Reed stepped forward with a stern face. “If we let her continue this madness, the child won’t even have her final dignity.” “Mr. Sterling, apprehend her at once!” Two bodyguards immediately closed in. My gaze swept across the room, spotting a half-open French door at the far end of the banquet hall. Then I looked at the extremely weak Lily in my arms. “Go! A billion dollars! I always keep my promises!” My mind raced, I hugged the baby tight, turned, and ran.

I had barely run two steps when someone roughly yanked my shoulder. Sarah White lunged from behind, her sharp nails digging into my flesh. “Stop her! She’s trying to steal the baby!” That shout sent the entire banquet hall into chaos. Several bodyguards rushed forward simultaneously, blocking my path to the window. I was forced to retreat repeatedly, my lower back hitting the buffet table. “I’m not stealing the baby! I’m saving her!” Liam Sterling, the fourth son, sneered, slamming a carving knife onto the table. “Saving her?” “You’re running around with a child who’s almost breathless, and you call that saving her?” Dr. Reed quickly approached, sweat beading on his forehead. “Mr. Sterling, we can’t let her continue this madness.” “Lily’s body is already naturally frail. If she falls or gets bumped, it will even be difficult to determine the cause of death!” The baby’s voice in my arms was almost crying. “I’m not dead yet! What ’cause of death’ are you talking about?!” “Why are these people more impatient than the Grim Reaper himself?!” I almost laughed at her remark, but more than that, I was alarmed. Her voice was much weaker than before. I couldn’t afford to delay. I dodged sideways with the baby, stepping on a chair and scrambling over it. Several champagne flutes crashed to the floor. Noah Sterling cursed angrily. “That crazy woman!” As I landed, a hand suddenly blocked my way. It was Mr. Sterling, David. His eyes were bloodshot, and his entire demeanor was seething with suppressed anger. “Say that again.” My breath was ragged, I clutched the swaddle tight, squeezing out each word. “Lily isn’t critically ill; she suffered from breathlessness induced by an irritating scent.” “As long as she leaves this place and breathes clean air, she can still wake up.” Sarah White, her face pale, clutched her lower abdomen, her voice choked with tears. “Mr. Sterling, she’s slandering me…” “I’m carrying your child too. How could I possibly harm Lily?” At this statement, the entire hall fell silent. The sons were also stunned. Mr. Sterling’s pupils suddenly constricted. “What did you say?” Sarah White’s tears fell, and she gently placed a hand on her stomach. “I had planned to tell you later.” “I found out at the hospital today; I’m already over a month pregnant.” “I know it’s not appropriate to say this now, but I just wanted to be by your side, and I never expected to be falsely accused like this…” Hearing this, the baby’s voice in my arms was furious. “Pfft! She’s bringing up her pregnancy now, she’s treating you all like idiots!” “Forget about her for now; I’m really running out of air!” Just then, Sarah White took another step forward. The scent wafted over, and Lily in my arms stiffened. Her already faint body temperature also began to drop. My face instantly changed, and I violently dodged sideways. “Don’t come near her!” Sarah White flinched at my shout, her tears falling even more profusely. “Mr. Sterling, did you see that?” “She’s so hostile towards me; it’s clearly premeditated.” Dr. Reed immediately chimed in. “Exactly.” “And the child’s problem occurred while she was under her care. The most suspicious person, by default, is her.” Mason Sterling, the second son, slowly advanced towards me, his voice low. “Either put Lily down, or I’ll do it myself.” Lily in my arms seemed to exert her last ounce of strength, calling out in a tiny voice. “The window! To the left! There’s a breeze over there!” My peripheral vision caught sight of a crack in the side door of the banquet hall, leading to a patio. I took a sharp breath, hugged the baby, and dashed towards it. Mason reached out to block me, but I lowered my head and shoulder-barged past his arm. Footsteps behind me scrambled chaotically. Sarah White shrieked. “Grab her! Don’t let her take the baby away!” The moment my hand touched the doorknob, I was violently shoved from behind. I instantly lost my balance. To protect the baby, I twisted my body, my knees and elbows hitting the ground hard. The swaddle was still tightly cradled in my arms. A commotion erupted around me, and the cold air from the patio finally streamed in through the door crack. The baby’s faint voice in my head trembled slightly. “It’s… it’s working a little…”

“Close the door!” Dr. Reed sharply ordered, and two bodyguards immediately rushed over, trying to re-close the patio door. I was still kneeling on the ground, my knees burning with pain, but my mind cleared instantly. I lunged forward with the baby, half my body wedging into the door crack. The bodyguards paused. Noah Sterling’s face turned livid with anger. “Are you crazy?! What if you hurt the baby?!” I bit down hard on my lip. “She needs ventilation! Not your emergency resuscitation procedures!” Dr. Reed’s eye twitched. “Ignorance!” “A baby in respiratory failure will only die faster from the stimulation of cold air!” The baby’s voice in my arms was weak and intermittent. “Don’t listen to his bullsht… What I’m most afraid of right now is that woman’s smell…” I desperately held the door open, sweat pouring down my forehead. Just then, a deep, hoarse voice came from nearby. “Let me see the child.” I looked back. It was Grandpa Richard Sterling. The old man stood not far away, leaning on his cane, his face looking terrible. Sarah White immediately went up to him, her face full of concern. “Grandpa Sterling, please don’t get upset; your health is important.” “This nanny has already caused Mr. Sterling to lose control; please don’t let her deceive you.” As she spoke, she raised her hand to help him. Grandpa Richard Sterling’s cane stopped, and he directly pushed her hand away. “Get lost.” Sarah White’s expression instantly froze. Grandpa Richard Sterling walked over step by step, his gaze falling on the child in my arms. “You say she’s still breathing. What’s your proof?” I licked my dry lips. “Just now, when the patio door opened a crack, her reaction changed the moment she felt the breeze.” “Just give me a little more time…” Dr. Reed quickly interrupted. “Mr. Sterling, the child currently has no autonomous breathing response, her face is bruised, and she is in critical condition.” “You can’t pin your hopes on an outsider’s wild claims!” The Sterling sons stood in a line, creating an oppressive atmosphere that made it hard to breathe. I knew that if any of them raised a hand, I was done for today. But Lily in my arms grew even weaker. “I’m so sleepy…” “Don’t let her get close to me…” I looked up and saw Sarah White had somehow approached a few more steps. Her face still held that pitiful, innocent look. “Chloe, you keep saying my perfume has a problem, but why don’t you show us proof?” My heart sank. Right, I had no proof. I couldn’t exactly say the baby told me herself. Sarah White saw my hesitation, a flicker of triumph in her eyes, then she covered her belly and took a gentle breath. “Besides, I’m carrying the Sterling family’s flesh and blood; I couldn’t possibly do such a thing.” “You’re so desperate to take Lily outside; who knows if you’re trying to destroy some evidence?” Dr. Reed immediately seized the opportunity. “Mr. Sterling, Grandpa Sterling, she is the one who should be investigated most thoroughly.” “The child’s problem occurred in her care; she definitely has something to hide!” Caleb Sterling, the eighth son, kicked over a nearby chair. “Enough!” “Tie her up first, then question her slowly!” Two bodyguards lunged at me again. I clutched the baby and scrambled back towards the patio, my back hitting the railing. There was nowhere left to retreat. The night wind howled in. The little one in my arms suddenly let out a very soft whimper. Though faint, my heart jumped. It’s working! My eyes welled up, and I almost screamed. “She reacted just now! Didn’t you hear it?!” Everyone looked at me as if I were a desperate lunatic. Just as the bodyguard reached out to grab me, the doctor’s assistant, Dr. Alex Smith, who had been cowering in the corner, suddenly rushed out. He wiped sweat from his brow. “Wait!” “Just now, Lily’s fingertip… seemed to move.” Dr. Reed’s face turned deathly pale. “Dr. Smith, don’t talk nonsense!” Dr. Smith’s Adam’s apple bobbed, and he forced himself to speak. “I was close, I don’t think I saw wrong.” “And infants in breathlessness or feigned death can indeed experience brief recovery under specific stimulation…” Sarah White’s face instantly went white, and she sharply interrupted. “Are you all going crazy, one by one?” “Experimenting on a month-old baby? Who will be responsible if something goes wrong?!” Mr. Sterling had been silent. Only then did he slowly raise his head, his gaze fixed on the baby’s face. “Open the door.” “Let her take the child to the patio.” Sarah White’s breath hitched. “Mr. Sterling…” Mr. Sterling glared at her. “I said, open the door.” The patio door was fully pushed open. The moment the cold wind swept in, Lily in my arms suddenly gave a very soft gasp. The next second, a hoarse, broken cry came from Evelyn Sterling’s direction. “Let me see my daughter…”

Evelyn Sterling was helped by a maid, stumbling out. Her face was streaked with tears, her hair disheveled, completely disregarding her appearance, she lunged forward, wanting to touch the baby. I instinctively moved a step sideways with the baby. At this slight movement, Evelyn froze. Sarah White, however, seemed to seize the opportunity and immediately stepped forward to support her. “Evelyn, don’t worry, the child is already—” Slap! Before she could finish, Evelyn raised her hand and delivered a sharp slap. Sarah White’s head snapped sideways, and half her face quickly swelled and reddened. Evelyn was trembling all over, her voice cracking. “Get away from me!” “You are not allowed to touch my daughter!” Sarah White covered her face, tears instantly streaming down. “Evelyn, I’m just worried about you…” Evelyn ignored her completely, her bloodshot eyes fixed on me. “You just said she wasn’t gone, but was harmed and stopped breathing?” “Yes.” Dr. Reed still tried to step forward. “Evelyn, don’t let her mislead you…” Evelyn sharply turned, grabbed a vase from a nearby table, and smashed it bang! at his feet. Shards scattered. “My daughter is in this state, and you’re still telling me who to listen to?” “If she still has a breath in her, anyone who dares to stop me, I’ll make them pay with their life!” The Sterling sons all froze. Sarah White’s face was extremely grim, but she still tried to speak again. “But Evelyn—” Grandpa Richard Sterling’s cane thumped heavily on the ground. “Silence!” The old man’s chest heaved violently, his eyes completely bloodshot. “No one is to stop her today.” “But you remember this: if you’re playing games with me, you’ll join my granddaughter in the grave.” I nodded heavily at Evelyn and Grandpa Richard Sterling, then quickly rushed to the patio with the baby, placed her on a wicker chair, and unfastened her swaddle. Dr. Alex Smith also followed, his forehead beaded with sweat. “Loosen her clothes, don’t cover her chest.” “First, check for chest rise and fall!” I did as he said, my hands trembling violently. The baby’s voice in my head grew weaker and weaker. “Faster… faster…” Tears suddenly welled up in my eyes. “Don’t fall asleep!” Dr.Smith’s hands trembled with urgency, and he immediately began emergency stimulation. “Pat her feet lightly!” “Then feel her neck for a very faint pulse!” Nothing. There was nothing. Sarah White stood not far away, covering her face, a sinister glint slowly surfacing in her eyes. “Mr. Sterling, isn’t that enough?” “If we keep tormenting her like this, Lily won’t even have her final dignity.” Mr. Sterling clenched his fists, his knuckles cracking, but he said nothing. Dr. Smith’s face grew paler and paler. “It’s… it’s completely over…” I slumped to the ground, mumbling. Dr. Smith checked Lily’s chest, his eyes dimming, even his lips trembling. Sarah White subtly let out a breath, as if she had finally waited for this moment, and raised her hand to call the bodyguards. “Take her—” Dr. Smith suddenly shuddered. Then he abruptly looked up, and shrieked. “Wait! Lily… she moved!”

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Olivia spent eight years by Ethan’s side, watching him work his way up from first officer to captain. During his busiest year, I quit my job and planned my meals around his flight schedule. Once, I asked him, “Can you take me up to see the world from ten thousand meters, just once?” He coldly replied, “That’s a workplace, not an amusement park.” I said okay, and never brought it up again. Until one night, I found a hidden album on his phone. It contained a silhouette of a woman sitting in his cockpit. The next morning, I brewed coffee as usual and drank it in silence. Then I opened my laptop, wrote a resignation letter, and booked a flight to Texas. Eight years. I finally decided I wouldn’t look up to him anymore, wouldn’t track his flight path. “Why are you up so early today?” Ethan emerged from the bedroom, pulling his flight bag, his brows slightly furrowed. I held my mug. “Couldn’t sleep, so I got up for coffee.” He walked to the kitchen island, picked up the other cup of hot milk I’d just poured, and took a sip. “Did you stay up late again watching those useless shows last night?” “No.” “Olivia, your sleep schedule is completely off these days.” He checked his watch, his tone laced with his usual instructing manner. “I’ve got a Frankfurt run later, four days round trip.” “Okay.” He seemed surprised by my overly calm reaction today. Usually, when he flew international long-hauls, I’d pack his stomach medicine, melatonin, and neck pillow a day in advance, making sure they were in his flight bag. I’d also remind him repeatedly to text me when he landed. Today, I did nothing but sit on the high stool and watch him. “Where did you put my stomach medicine?” He rummaged through the side pocket of his bag. “Second drawer under the TV cabinet. Grab it yourself.” His movements paused, and he turned to look at me. “What’s wrong with you today? You can’t even walk a few feet?” “I’m a little tired.” He sighed, walked to the TV cabinet, pulled open the drawer, took out the medicine box, and tucked it into his pocket. “You’re home all day, I don’t know what you’re tired from.” His phone lit up. A text message popped up. The contact name was a little bear emoji. “Ethan, it’s getting cold in Frankfurt today, remember to bring a thick coat.” Ethan picked up his phone, the screen’s light illuminating the slight upturn of his lips. He quickly typed a reply with one hand, not even bothering to zip up his luggage. “A colleague’s message?” I asked, looking at the bear emoji. He locked the screen and slipped his phone into his pants pocket. “Yeah, Chloe. She’s on this flight too, in the main cabin.” “Isn’t she usually a purser on domestic flights?” “Temporary reassignment. She’s helping out with some new recruits.” He answered so naturally, as if he didn’t need to think twice for an excuse. I looked at his tall, straight back, remembering the forty-plus pictures in that hidden album from last night. “Ethan.” “What is it?” He was changing his shoes. “Do you remember what day next Wednesday is?” He didn’t stop putting on his shoes. “Next Wednesday? I have a simulator re-training at work. Why?” “Never mind.” Next Wednesday was our eighth anniversary. Eight years ago, on a Wednesday, he got his first officer job offer. He was so excited, he picked me up and spun me around in our tiny apartment. He said that someday, high above the clouds, he’d pick out the most beautiful ones for me. He forgot. “I’m leaving. I’ll text you when I land.” He pushed the door open. “Ethan.” I called out to him again. His hand was on the doorknob, a hint of impatience in his voice. “Now what? The crew car is waiting downstairs.” “Your flight bag zipper isn’t fully closed.” He glanced down, then casually zipped it up. “Got it. You’re acting really strange today.” The door closed. The house plunged back into silence. I walked to my computer and clicked ‘send’ on the resignation letter I’d just finished. Then I opened the ticketing app and confirmed that one-way ticket to Texas, seven days from now. Seven days. Enough time for me to erase eight years of my life here. My phone rang. It was my best friend, Sophia. “Did you submit your resignation?” “I did.” “Once you’ve decided, no backing out. When are you going to tell Ethan?” “The day I leave.” Sophia was silent for a few seconds on the other end. “Olivia, eight years of your life, just going to let it go so silently?” “I don’t want it anymore.” I looked at the now cold milk on the kitchen island. “Sophia, have you ever seen the sunset pictures he takes for other people?” “What?” “They’re beautiful. Even the light on the wing is so gentle.” I flipped my phone face down on the table. “Too bad they weren’t for me.”

In the afternoon, I went to the building management office. I had my fingerprint deleted from the access system for this apartment. The building manager, a kindly elderly woman, looked confused as I did it. “Mrs. Hayes, why on earth would you delete your fingerprint? It’ll be so inconvenient getting in and out.” “I won’t need to anymore,” I smiled. Back home, I dragged two large cardboard boxes from the storage room and started packing. This house was huge, a spacious river-view penthouse, two thousand square feet, that Ethan had paid for in full. He said it was to thank me for enduring the toughest times with him. I thought this was our home. Now I realized, my belongings were pitifully few. In the walk-in closet, only two racks of clothes belonged to me. The rest were all his uniforms for different seasons, suits, trench coats, and sports gear. I folded my everyday clothes and put them in a suitcase. The expensive evening gowns he bought me, but which weren’t my style, remained untouched on their hangers. On the bedside table sat an airline model plane. It was a souvenir from his first international flight. I picked it up, and underneath, there was a photo. It was a picture of us from four years ago. He had just been promoted to captain then, full of youthful vigor. I gently pulled the photo out and tossed it into the nearby trash can. The model went back to its spot. In the evening, my phone vibrated. A SnapChat message from Ethan. “Landed, just got to the hotel.” Normally, I’d reply immediately, asking if he was tired, if the hotel bed was comfortable. Today, I just sent one word. “Okay.” Half an hour later, he sent another. “It’s really cold here in Germany. Do you want me to buy you any duty-free stuff?” I was packing my bottles and jars from the bathroom counter into my makeup bag. “No, thanks.” “Didn’t you always bug me about getting that specific serum?” I looked at my reflection in the mirror. “No, thanks. I don’t want it anymore.” No reply came from his end. Maybe he thought I was being unreasonable, or maybe he was busy looking after someone else. I opened Chloe’s Ins profile. The first post was from ten minutes ago. A night view of the Rhine River. Next to it, a glass of mulled wine, with a man’s hand resting on the rim. The middle finger of that hand had a faint scar. Ethan got it cutting fruit; I’d even changed his dressing for a week back then. Chloe’s caption read: “The wind in Frankfurt is cold, but the mulled wine is warm. A flight taken care of by someone is always the best journey.” A few of their company colleagues had liked it. Someone commented, “Ethan must’ve treated, right? Chloe, you’re so lucky.” Chloe replied with a shy emoji. I calmly closed Ins. The sharp pang in my chest had finally gone numb. For eight years, like a fool, I’d been blind, feeding myself on his empty promises. He wasn’t careless, he wasn’t unromantic. He just saved all his care and romance for someone else. A few days later, Ethan’s flight landed. At seven in the evening, he pushed open the front door. In his hand, a beautifully wrapped gift box. I sat on the sofa, watching him change his shoes. “Why didn’t you make dinner?” He glanced at the empty dining table. “I already ate.” His frown deepened. “I flew for over ten hours, and I can’t even get a hot meal when I get home?” “You can order takeout.” He slammed the gift box onto the coffee table. “Olivia, what’s with this attitude of yours these past two days?” “I don’t have an attitude.” “No attitude? You haven’t sent a single message? I asked you if you wanted anything and you wouldn’t say.” I looked at the gift box. “Is that for me?” He froze for a moment, his eyes darting away. “This is… someone asked me to bring it back for them. I’ll get yours tomorrow at the mall.” Someone. “Chloe asked you to get it?” I looked him in the eye. His face darkened. “You went through my phone?” “Her Ins profile is public for everyone to see.” He breathed a sigh of relief, his tone immediately becoming self-righteous again. “She helped me with something, what’s the big deal about getting her a gift? Do you have to be so petty?” “I didn’t say anything.” “This cold, distant look says it all!” He impatiently tore off his tie. “She’s a colleague, we see each other all the time at work, what’s wrong with me looking out for her?” “You look out for her very well.” I stood up, unwilling to argue anymore. “Olivia!” He called out from behind me. “I’ve had a long day. Can you just be reasonable? Don’t make me come home and have to deal with your moods.” Reasonable. I’d been reasonable for eight years. So I swallowed my tears and walked into the guest room without looking back. “I’ll sleep in here tonight. Get some good rest.”

Over the next two days, I systematically cleaned out my life. The Monstera plant in the living room was mine; I gave it to the elderly neighbor next door. The rocking chair on the balcony was my choice; I called a second-hand recycler to take it away. Ethan seemed oblivious to the missing items in the house. He just thought I was pleasantly quiet these days. “Why couldn’t you always be like this?” On Friday morning, he sat at the dining table, eating the instant dumplings I’d haphazardly cooked. “Chloe’s birthday is tonight. A few of the crew are getting together for dinner. You should come with me.” My hand stopped wiping the table. “What would I go for?” “Didn’t you always complain that I never brought you to meet my colleagues? Well, everyone’s going tonight, you can meet them.” His tone was like an offering. I used to beg him to let me be part of his world. He’d say, “They’re all pilots, you wouldn’t understand what they’re talking about. You’d just be bored.” Now he was actively asking me to go, all because it was Chloe’s birthday. “Okay,” I agreed. I wanted to see for myself what place Chloe held in his colleagues’ eyes. At eight that evening, we arrived at the Japanese restaurant. The private room door opened, and six or seven people were already seated. Chloe sat at the head of the table, wearing a white French-style maxi dress, with a familiar necklace around her neck. It was the item from the gift box I’d seen on the coffee table the day before yesterday. “Ethan, Olivia’s here!” Chloe stood up, smiling, and came to greet us. “Nice to meet you, Olivia! Ethan talks about you all the time. So glad to finally meet you today.” She reached out, intending to take my hand warmly. I avoided her touch. “Happy birthday,” I said flatly. The atmosphere in the room went awkward for a moment. Ethan pulled me to a seat and whispered a warning, “Don’t you dare give me any attitude today.” During dinner, everyone talked about flight-related things. Which routes had rough turbulence, or which control towers had the most difficult controllers. I truly didn’t understand, nor did I care to listen. “Speaking of which, Ethan’s landings are truly flawless.” A first officer laughed, raising his glass. “Chloe knows best. Whenever Ethan’s flying, Chloe in the main cabin doesn’t even spill her coffee.” Chloe chuckled, covering her mouth. “That’s right, Ethan’s skills are famous throughout the company. Last time we flew to Narita and hit a thunderstorm, my legs were like jelly, but Ethan texted me from the cockpit saying, ‘I got this. Don’t worry,’ and I instantly felt at ease.” Everyone at the table started teasing them. Ethan laughed along, not refuting, his gaze even carrying a hint of indulgence. I lowered my head and took a sip of tea; it was already cold and somewhat bitter. Thunderstorm. I remembered that Narita flight. It was delayed by five hours due to weather. I was so anxious at home that I couldn’t sleep, and I called him over a dozen times, but he never picked up. Later, he texted back, “Busy with work, don’t make things difficult.” Turns out, he was busy comforting Chloe in the cabin. “Olivia, don’t you usually look after Ethan?” Chloe suddenly turned the conversation to me. “Ethan has a sensitive stomach. Yesterday, I saw him skip breakfast and fly the simulator, it really made us colleagues worried.” Her tone carried undisguised blame. The table fell silent, everyone looking at me. “He’s an adult. He knows how to order takeout,” I said, putting down my teacup. Chloe froze, her eyes instantly reddening. “Olivia, I didn’t mean anything by it. I was just worried about Ethan…” “Olivia, have you had enough?” Ethan’s face was ashen. “Everyone’s here to have a good time, why do you have to be so passive-aggressive and make a scene?” “Did I say anything to make a scene?” I looked at him calmly. “Chloe was kindly reminding you to care about me, and that’s your attitude!” “Ethan.” I stood up, grabbing my bag. “Since someone else cares so much about your stomach, you won’t need me to worry about it anymore.” “Olivia! You dare walk out that door!” He roared behind me. I pushed open the restaurant door without a moment’s hesitation. The cold air in the hallway hit my face, and I took a deep breath of the outside air. Eight years. I finally didn’t have to crush myself for his sake anymore. Back home, I packed up the rest of my books into boxes. Just waiting for next Wednesday.

Ethan didn’t come home that night. He only walked in the door around noon the next day, smelling faintly of woody perfume. It was Chloe’s usual scent. He tossed his car keys on the entryway table and glared at me, his face cold. “Did you throw enough of a tantrum last night?” I was sealing a cardboard box with tape, not looking up. “Are you deaf?” He walked over and kicked the box. “What are you doing packing all this junk?” “Just organizing things I don’t need anymore.” He scoffed. “Olivia, your ‘play hard to get’ act is getting old. Do you think I’ll come crawling back to you if you give me the silent treatment for a few days?” I straightened up, dusting off my hands. “I wasn’t trying to make you come back.” “Then what’s this attitude? Chloe cried for almost an hour last night because of what you said. You owe her an apology.” “I won’t apologize.” “You’re completely unreasonable!” He irritably ran a hand through his hair and sat down on the sofa. “I don’t have time to waste on this. Next Wednesday, I’m flying an Aurora Borealis route to Reykjavik. If you admit you were wrong, I’ll give you the complimentary family ticket I’d set aside for Chloe, and take you to see the Northern Lights.” I froze. The Northern Lights. Six years ago, I was diagnosed with a thyroid nodule. It was benign, but I was terrified at the time. He held my hand by the hospital bed and said, “Once you’re better, I’ll take you to see the Aurora. You’ll sit on my flight, and we’ll watch the most beautiful night sky together.” He’d put off that promise for six years. Now, he was using that six-year-old promise as a handout, a way for me to climb down. And that ticket, it was originally for Chloe. “You don’t care?” He frowned, seeing my silence. “Do you know how hard it is to get a complimentary ticket for that route? Chloe begged me for ages before I agreed. I’m only changing my mind for you because it’s our eighth anniversary.” “Give the ticket to Chloe,” I said, looking at him, my voice so quiet I could barely hear it myself. “What did you say?” “I said, give the ticket to her. I don’t need it.” Ethan abruptly stood up, his face terribly dark. “Olivia, don’t push your luck. I’ve given you the chance; if you’re just screwing yourself over, don’t come crying to me later.” “I won’t beg you.” He violently smashed a glass on the coffee table. Shards flew, cutting my calf. He didn’t even glance at it, turning and slamming the door behind him. I looked down at the drops of blood on my calf, pulling a tissue to wipe them away. It didn’t hurt. It truly didn’t hurt anymore. Time flew by to next Wednesday. Our eighth anniversary. And the day my resignation took effect, the day I left this city. I dragged my only suitcase and took a taxi to the airport. My flight to Texas was scheduled for three in the afternoon. After checking in, I sat in the waiting area, watching planes take off and land outside the window. The Aurora Borealis flight was scheduled to depart at 2 PM. Ethan should be in the left seat now, preparing for pushback. I opened my phone, wanting to check his flight status one last time, to put a period on these eight years. His crew information popped up on my flight tracker app. The Captain’s name wasn’t Ethan. It was a different, unfamiliar name. I froze. Had he gotten sick and been temporarily replaced? Just then, my peripheral vision caught sight of the entrance to the first-class lounge not far away. A man in a casual trench coat was wheeling a pink suitcase into it. Beside him was a woman in a matching trench coat. She was affectionately linked arm-in-arm with him, her head resting on his shoulder. It was Ethan and Chloe. I stood rooted to the spot, watching them enter the lounge. I overheard two airline staff members chatting nearby. “Wasn’t that Ethan who just went in? Wasn’t he supposed to be flying to Reykjavik today?” “He took some last-minute vacation days. Heard it’s to go with Chloe to Finland.” “Chloe was bragging in the group chat all yesterday, saying Ethan skipped his Aurora Borealis flight for her, buying a passenger ticket just to go on a long vacation with her.” “How romantic, Ethan really goes all out for Chloe.” I suddenly found it a little funny. So he hadn’t given me the complimentary ticket he’d set aside for Chloe. He had, for Chloe’s sake, abandoned his duties as a pilot, personally planning an Aurora trip for just the two of them. The boarding announcement for my flight came over the loudspeaker. I boarded the plane. And Ethan, who had taken vacation days for Chloe, was in the first-class cabin of another plane. I looked out at the sea of clouds. Eight years. I was finally free.

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This was my ninety-ninth loop. The wall clock said eight in the evening. In three hours, Serena, his true love, would slit her wrists. He’d rush out like a madman. And When tried to stop him, an out-of-control truck would reduce me to a bloody mess. This time, I wasn’t going to stop him. I even thoughtfully placed his car keys on the console table by the entryway, poured myself a glass of red wine, and waited quietly for the call to come. The system’s icy voice exploded in my mind. “Warning! Host is slacking off. This is your last loop. If the mission fails, your soul will be completely annihilated. Countdown: 3 days.” I smiled. Three days? Enough time for me to plan a grand funeral. The moment my eyes opened, the crushing pain of my chest bones being pulverized by a multi-ton truck seemed to linger through every nerve. I bolted upright in bed, cold sweat soaking my silk pajamas, my heart hammering wildly in my chest. It was protesting being dragged back into a body that was already doomed. Seven in the morning. The sound of rushing water came from the bathroom. Ethan was showering. According to the script of the previous ninety-nine loops, in five minutes he’d emerge wrapped in a towel, casually wiping his hair while telling me the same lie he’d told ninety-nine times. The water stopped. Ethan pushed open the bathroom door, water droplets sliding down his toned muscles. He didn’t even glance at me, walking straight to the walk-in closet, his tone already laced with practiced impatience. “Overtime at work tonight, a multinational conference. Don’t wait up for dinner.” The so-called multinational conference was just an excuse. Serena had just returned, and he was eager to go to a three-star Michelin restaurant to throw a welcome party for her. In the past, I would have jumped out of bed barefoot, hugged him from behind, buried my face in his back, and pleaded pitifully. “But it’s our wedding anniversary today. Not even for an hour?” Then he would frown and push me away, annoyed that I had stained his shirt with tears. He’d call me childish and dramatic. But this time, I just sat on the bed, quietly watching him perform. My stomach was cramping from the side effects of the loops, and waves of nausea rose in my throat. I took a deep breath, forced the bile back down, then threw back the covers and got out of bed. Ethan was rummaging through a pile of ties, his brow furrowed, clearly searching for the cobalt blue striped tie Serena had given him. In previous loops, I would deliberately hide that tie, trying to erase her presence on this special day. I walked behind him, pulled open the bottom drawer, and retrieved the tie. “Looking for this?” My voice was raspy, like it had been scraped with sandpaper. Ethan’s hand froze in mid-air. He turned around, his eyes flashing with surprise, which quickly morphed into annoyance at being seen through. He opened his mouth, as if to explain, or perhaps to wait for me to hysterically question him. But I said nothing. I stepped forward, stood on my tiptoes, and skillfully tied his tie for him. My fingers were cold; when they brushed his warm neck, I distinctly felt his muscles tense. “This color brings out your skin tone. She’ll probably like it.” I adjusted the knot to perfection, then gently patted his collar, my movements as delicate as if I were arranging a shroud for a corpse. Ethan grabbed my wrist abruptly, his grip so tight it hurt. He stared intently into my eyes, trying to find a trace of jealousy, anger, or even grievance. Unfortunately, all he saw was an empty gaze. “Scarlett, who’s the snark for?” His voice was low, laced with suppressed anger. I pulled my hand free, turned, and walked toward the bathroom, leaving him with only my back. “Nothing. Just feeling tired. Go early, come back early, Ethan.” “After all, it’s going to rain heavily tonight.” I knew he was still staring at me from behind; the feeling of his eyes on my back made my spine stiffen. But I didn’t look back, because the woman in the mirror had a face as pale as paper, and dark red blood was slowly dripping from her nostril. This was the sign that my soul was beginning to strip away. I turned on the faucet, washing the blood away with cold water again and again, the stream mixing with red, swirling down the drain, just like my absurd life.

Six in the evening. The downpour arrived as scheduled, thunder ripping through the sky. Normally by this time, I’d be running around the kitchen, busy as can be. I would have pre-ordered dry-aged prime ribeye. I’d trim it, decant a red wine from Ethan’s birth year, and light expensive scented candles. Then I’d dress myself up like a fancy gift waiting to be sent back. This time, looking at the empty dining table, I felt nothing but irony. I picked up my phone, opened a delivery app, and casually ordered a cheap pizza, the kind I would never touch normally, and Ethan would sneer at. I sat cross-legged on the sofa, holding a slice of cheap, store-brand pizza. I took a bite; the cold cheese wouldn’t melt in my mouth, tasting like cardboard. But I actually enjoyed it, because I ordered it for myself, not to cater to Ethan’s picky palate. Half an hour later, the doorbell rang. It was Ethan. When I heard the key turn in the lock, I was still sitting cross-legged on the sofa, holding a half-eaten slice of pizza, tomato sauce smeared on the corner of my mouth. Ethan pushed the door open. When he saw the scene, he froze in the entryway. He was carrying his briefcase, having returned for an important document he’d forgotten. In previous loops, when he came back for the document and saw my carefully prepared candlelight dinner, a fleeting moment of guilt would cross his face, only to turn into sheer disgust when I insisted he stay for dinner. Now, the living room had no roses, no candlelight, only the lingering smell of cheap cheese and burnt crust. “What… are you eating?” Ethan frowned, his gaze falling on the greasy pizza box as if it were some bio-weapon. “Dinner.” I swallowed my food, didn’t get up to greet him, or even lift my eyelids. “If you’re getting files, hurry up. Don’t let me delay your overtime.” Ethan changed his shoes and walked in, his steps heavy. He didn’t go straight to the study but walked into the living room, standing in front of me, blocking the TV light. “Today is…” He paused, seemingly waiting for me to remind him. “I know, Friday, right?” I interrupted him, picking up a pill bottle from the coffee table and pouring out a handful of white pills. They weren’t vitamins; they were strong painkillers. The system had warned me that as the countdown approached, the feeling of my soul detaching from my body would intensify. The pain was like someone sawing at my bones with a dull knife. The moment I heard him open the door, a sudden sharp pain erupted in my spine, so intense I almost dropped the pizza. I tilted my head back and swallowed all dozen pills in front of Ethan, without even water, forcing them down. A bitter taste spread in my mouth, slightly suppressing the agonizing, churning pain inside me. “Why are you taking so many vitamins?” Ethan’s frown deepened as he watched me swallow the pills, a hint of inexplicable irritation in his eyes. “Scarlett, are you sick?” Ha, asking now, isn’t it a bit too late? “Losing some hair lately. Just supplementing.” I lied casually, picked up the remote, and turned up the TV volume. The variety show on screen erupted with laughter, jarringly loud in the quiet living room. “The files are on the study desk. I saw them just now.” Ethan stood still. The love that once suffocated him had suddenly vanished, replaced by a sense of detachment he couldn’t control. This discrepancy made him uncomfortable, even more so than my constant nagging. He stared at me deeply, as if trying to find a flaw in my calm face. But I just stared at the TV screen, laughing even more exaggeratedly than the show’s guests, my fingernails digging deeply into my palms, using the pain to stay clear-headed. Finally, he said nothing, turning and entering the study. When he came out with the files, he paused by me and curtly remarked, “Eat less of that junk food.” The moment the door closed, I finally couldn’t hold it in. I rushed to the bathroom and violently vomited into the toilet. The pizza and pills I’d swallowed mixed with stomach acid spilled everywhere. My stomach felt like it was on fire, and tears streamed uncontrollably down my face.

Seven thirty in the evening. My phone screen abruptly lit up, displaying “Serena.” In the previous ninety-nine loops, this call was my nightmare. Each time it connected, it was her silent boasting, or a snippet of Ethan’s voice beside her, enough to shatter my pathetic self-esteem. I wiped the residue from my mouth, calmly pressed the answer button, and put the call on speaker, tossing my phone onto the coffee table. “Hello? Is that Scarlett?” Serena’s voice came through the receiver, carrying her characteristic sweet, fragile tone. In the background, I could faintly hear elegant violin music and the soft clink of cutlery against ceramic plates. “Oh, I’m so sorry to bother you so late. Ethan just went to the restroom, and he left his phone with me. I saw you were calling and worried it might be urgent…” The same old story. I hadn’t called Ethan at all. This was her usual trick to make sure I knew he was with her. If it were before, I would scream into the phone, demand to know why she had my husband’s phone, and then cry like a madwoman. But this time, I picked up a nail file and slowly, meticulously filed my nails, my voice light with amusement. “Oh, no urgent matter. Just wanted to remind you of something.” A noticeable pause on the other end. “Remind me of what?” “Remind him to use protection.” I blew the dust from my nails, my tone as nonchalant as if discussing the weather. “You know, he’s been out networking a lot lately and hasn’t been too careful. I don’t really care, since I have my full health report. But you, darling, just back in the country, you’re delicate. It’d be a shame if you caught something nasty. After all, I still have my life to live.” A dead silence fell on the other end of the line. Then, I heard Ethan’s voice. He had clearly just returned and heard my shocking “advice.” “Scarlett! What nonsense are you spouting!” Ethan’s roar came through the speaker, mixed with the sound of a chair being knocked over. He was obviously furious. Serena seemed startled too, letting out a short gasp. “Ethan, darling…” I chuckled softly, imagining Ethan’s livid face at that moment. The satisfaction of shattering that elite mask he always wore, the one of a man in a high position, was actually more effective than any painkiller. “What’s wrong, Mr. Evans? Are you all talk and no action?” I said languidly into the phone. “Alright, I won’t disturb your fun. Remember, safety first.” With that, I decisively hung up. Almost simultaneously, the system in my mind let out a harsh crackle of static. “Warning! Warning! Male lead’s emotional fluctuation value abnormally soaring! Plot deviation 30%… Detecting severe OOC (Out of Character) behavior from host… Recalculating… Calculation error.” I leaned back on the sofa, looking at the chandelier on the ceiling, a mocking smile curving my lips. Emotional fluctuation? That was pure rage. This was probably the first time he realized that Scarlett, who used to only revolve around him, worshipping him like a god, could also utter such humiliating words. He’d probably think I was crazy. And he’d be right. For someone abandoned in the ending, what did it matter if I cried or laughed, was sane or mad?

After I hung up. All words felt as light as a breath of white mist. Scattered in the air, not even a shape remained. I didn’t even bother to wave my hand to clear them. With three days left on the countdown, every minute and second was precious. I opened my laptop and sent the divorce agreement I had already drafted to my lawyer. The terms were simple: I’d walk away with nothing. In the reason column, I typed five words: a ghost marriage. After handling that, I took a thick stack of brochures from my bag. I had picked them up from the cemetery that afternoon. If I was planning a grand funeral, the location couldn’t be sloppy. I chose a plot on the hillside, facing south, with an open view of the city lights. Most importantly, it was quiet there. No Ethan, no Serena, no cursed loops. The door suddenly slammed open. Ethan was back. Faster than I expected. He hadn’t even had time to change his shoes, striding into the living room, carrying the dampness of the rain and unrestrained fury. I knew that phone call had completely enraged him, making him rush back without even finishing dinner with his “true love.” “Scarlett, what did you mean on that call just now?” He yanked the coffee table in front of me, sending the brochures scattering across the floor. They were pictures of various tombstone styles and landscape photos of the cemetery. Ethan’s gaze fell on the brochures, emblazoned with phrases like “Rest in Peace” and “Forever Missed.” His pupils suddenly constricted. He froze, the questions he’d prepared stuck in his throat, his expression becoming strange and absurd. “What are you doing?” He pointed at the brochures on the floor, his voice laced with incredulous mockery. “To get attention, you’re really pulling out all the stops now, aren’t you? Even bringing this morbid stuff home? Are you trying to threaten me with death?” In his eyes, everything I did was to get his attention. Before, it was faking illness, running away from home. Now, it had escalated to looking at cemetery plots. I bent down, picking up the scattered brochures one by one, my movements slow and stiff. My fingers trembled slightly from the pain, but to him, it probably looked like shame and indignation from having my intentions exposed. I picked up the last picture, a black marble tombstone, and looked up, meeting his eyes filled with disgust. This time, I didn’t rush to explain like before, nor did I cry and say, “I didn’t.” I looked at him, my gaze as empty as if I were looking at a dead man, or rather, looking through him, at the person I was about to become. “Threaten?” I chuckled softly, handing him the picture. “You’re overthinking, Mr. Evans. This location is good.” I paused, my tone eerily gentle. “Yes, I picked it for you. A double plot. Even though we’re getting divorced, I still saved a spot for you. Consider it my final gesture of goodwill. So, do you like it?” Ethan’s face instantly went ashen, then turned livid. He probably never imagined that one day, his subservient wife would smile and ask him if he liked his own cemetery plot. “You’re irrational!” He violently swatted the brochure from my hand. The sharp edge of the paper grazed my cheek, leaving a thin red scratch. Pain flared, but I just stood there quietly, watching the tombstone picture flutter to his feet, like a prematurely delivered verdict.

The European-style wall clock ticked monotonously, its hands once again irreversibly aligning at the number 12. Eight o’clock sharp. Outside the window, the rain poured as if someone was dumping basins of water, rattling against the glass, just like the ninety-nine times before. My phone vibrated on the coffee table, the screen blindingly bright. It was Serena’s friend calling, the so-called “death notification.” Serena had slit her wrists in the bathtub and sent a picture of blood everywhere to Ethan, now hovering between life and death. Ethan practically sprang from the sofa, his face pale. He didn’t even finish listening to the sobbing on the phone before grabbing the car keys from the console table and rushing out. In the script of fate, I should have lunged at him like a madwoman right now, hugging his waist, crying, begging him not to go, or trying to snatch his keys. In previous loops, no matter what I did, the outcome was always the same: I’d catch up to his car at that traffic light intersection, then be caught under the wheels of a heavy truck that swerved to avoid his sudden brake. The agonizing pain of my bones being crushed to powder and internal organs rupturing instantly, even now as I stood perfectly whole, still made my teeth chatter involuntarily. “Scarlett! Get out of the way!” Ethan rushed to the door, instinctively shouting that line. But he froze, because there was no one blocking him. I stood by the floor-to-ceiling window, swirling half a glass of decanted red wine. The red liquid clung to the glass, looking remarkably like spilled blood. I didn’t even turn to look at him, just gazed at the blurred traffic in the dark, rainy curtain outside. “The roads are slick in the rain, Mr. Evans. Drive safely.” I took a sip of wine. The pungent alcohol slid down my throat, suppressing the sourness churning in my stomach. Ethan’s fingers gripping the doorknob turned white from the force. He glanced back at me, his eyes filled with disbelief and an indescribable panic. It was like punching a pillow, leaving his pent-up rage with nowhere to go. “You’d better pray Serena’s okay, or I’ll make you pay!” He gritted his teeth, spat out the threat, and slammed the door shut. The loud bang of the door made the plaster on the walls seem to tremble. I turned around, looking at the closed security door, a cynical smile on my lips. Pay? I’ve paid ninety-nine times, Ethan. You should be satisfied. I walked to the balcony and watched through the rain curtain as the black Maybach shot out of the garage, like an out-of-control beast plunging into the storm. Without my interference, he’d left three minutes earlier. And that tired truck driver, who always passed the intersection three minutes later, arrived precisely on time as well. I closed my eyes, silently counting down in my mind. Ten, nine, eight… From this distance, I couldn’t hear the impact. But I could feel that momentary stillness in the air. Half an hour later, the shrill phone ring once again pierced the deathly silence of the living room. It was the Metropolitan General Hospital ER. “Are you Ethan Evans’ family? The patient was in a serious car accident at the Riverwalk intersection. The truck overturned and flattened the driver’s side of the car. The situation is critical. Please come immediately to sign the paperwork!” I hung up the phone and drained the last sip of red wine in my glass. This time, it wasn’t me who shattered.

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When the ‘Good Fertility System’ found me, I was clutching that diagnosis report. Terminal brain cancer, three months left. The system said, “Go sleep with three infertile madmen, get pregnant with their children, and you’ll live.” I looked at the three names on the list. Julian, the CEO in New York who treated women like dirt. Ethan, who built his security empire on weapons, a ruthless CEO with no mercy. And Leo, the thrill-seeking, extreme racer. These three were not only infertile but also sworn enemies, the kind who’d love to dance on each other’s graves. I laughed. I was going to die anyway, so why not go out with a bang? If I were bold enough, I’d have these infertile tycoons taking paternity leave. I tore the diagnosis report to shreds and threw it into the trash. In these three months, I wouldn’t just sleep with them; I’d make each of them believe the child could only be his. I sat on a bench in the hospital corridor for ten minutes. The doctor’s words were blunt: the cancer cells had spread to a difficult location, and the success rate for surgery was less than one percent. He advised me to eat well, spend my savings, and live without regrets. I glanced at my mobile banking balance: four digits. That amount wasn’t even enough to buy a decent burial plot. Just as I was debating whether to jump off the roof or just grab a bun, that voice in my head chimed in. “Host Alice Miller, the Genetic Completion Plan has been activated.” “Your cancer is caused by a genetic defect. Only by having children with three top-tier genetic donors can your body be rebuilt.” I ignored it, got up, and walked out. The system sounded a little anxious. “Aren’t you afraid to die?” I pressed the elevator’s down arrow. “Yes, but I’m more afraid of a messy death. You want me to approach those three? I’d rather just sign that diagnosis report and donate my body.” Who were those three? Ethan Blackwood. He had more blood on his hands than anyone I’d ever known. Even though he’d cleaned up his act and become a security company owner in recent years, everyone in New York knew about the madness lurking beneath. Julian Thorne, a notorious hypocrite, calculating to the core. Women who got close to him either went crazy or ended up broken. And Leo Maxwell? Don’t even get me started. Apart from racing, he was constantly flirting with death. No sane person would dare provoke him. The system was silent for two seconds. “Get pregnant with one, and your life countdown pauses. Give birth, and you’ll receive ten billion dollars in child support, plus your illness will be cured.” The elevator doors opened. My steps faltered. I hit the ‘close’ button again, then ‘top floor’. I asked, “Ten billion? After taxes?” System. “…After taxes.” I wasn’t afraid to die anymore. I was saved. I immediately changed direction, went back to the doctor’s office, and got some pain medication. These three months would be painful, but I had to hold on. The system uploaded the information into my brain. These three men were not only tough to handle but also had severe physiological or psychological defects that made them infertile. Ethan suffered from severe bipolar disorder. When he snapped, anyone nearby was in danger; no woman could get close to him. Julian had severe OCD and psychological blocks, making him allergic to women. He couldn’t even stand being touched. Leo’s body was simply burned out, his sperm count nearly zero. The system said, “Because of your special constitution, you possess natural fertility. As long as you ‘do the deed’ successfully, it’s a 100% success rate.” “But you must get all three.” “Miss one, and the gene chain will be incomplete; you’ll still die.” I looked at Ethan’s schedule in the data. Tonight, he was at his private estate in the West End. I felt the bottle of freshly prescribed painkillers in my pocket and swallowed two pills. “System, get me an identity.” “What kind?” “Ethan’s psychological therapist.” I remembered reading that Ethan’s bipolar disorder had flared up recently, and he was offering a high salary for a fearless psychologist. The previous ones had been carried in and then literally thrown out. But I had to go. For those ten billion, and for decades more of this wretched life. I tidied my hair, looking at my reflection in the elevator mirror. My face, though pale from illness, perfectly fit that delicate, fragile look. Men, especially the crazy ones, always seemed to be drawn to things that looked easy to break. I walked out of the hospital entrance and hailed a cab. “To the Blackwood Estate in the West End.” The driver gave me a look like I was crazy but floored the accelerator. On the way, the system warned me. “Ethan is in an extremely manic state right now. You might be strangled to death the moment you step in.” I closed my eyes, resting. “As long as I don’t die, he has to provide me with genes.” At the estate gates, a bodyguard stopped the car. I rolled down the window and handed him the top-tier psychologist’s license that the system had forged for me. The bodyguard glanced at it, a hint of pity in his eyes. “Go on in. Take the first left.” The car couldn’t go in, so I had to walk. The estate was eerily quiet; not even a bird chirped. Just as I reached the entrance of the villa’s main hall, a loud crash came from inside. It sounded like something heavy smashing against a wall. Followed by a man’s furious roar. “Get out! All of you, get out!” Several servants scrambled out, their faces bruised. I took a deep breath and pushed open the heavy door. The room was a wreck, shards of porcelain and glass littered the floor. A man sat on the sofa, clutching a bottle of liquor, three buttons of his shirt undone, revealing a muscular chest. His head was bowed, his face obscured, but the raw aggression emanating from him was enough to make anyone’s knees weak from a distance. This was Ethan. I said nothing, clicking my heels on the floor, avoiding the debris, and walking towards him step by step. The sound of my heels echoed loudly in the silent hall. Ethan suddenly looked up. His eyes were bloodshot, glinting with the savage ferocity of a caged beast. “If you don’t want to die, get out.” His voice was hoarse, thick with a metallic tang. I didn’t stop, continuing until I stood half a meter in front of him. “Mr. Blackwood, I’m your new doctor.” The words had barely left my lips when Ethan suddenly erupted. He moved with astonishing speed. I had no time to react before an iron-like hand gripped my neck, squeezing tightly. I was lifted and slammed against the back of the sofa. Suffocation instantly overwhelmed me. The system’s red alert blared in my mind. “Warning! Life value decreasing! Warning!” Ethan stared at me, his grip tightening, eyes full of murderous intent. “Who let you in? Huh?” I didn’t struggle. Struggling would only make me die faster. I painstakingly raised my hand, not to pry his fingers away, but to gently caress the back of his hand. My fingertips traced the bulging veins on his skin. The system had said I had a special constitution, and my scent was the only tranquilizer for him. Indeed, Ethan’s grip stiffened slightly. He seemed to smell something, his nostrils flaring, as he leaned closer to my neck. That killing rage receded slightly, replaced by a mixture of confusion and craving. I seized the opportunity, using my last ounce of strength, and leaned in to kiss his lips. Forget it, I had to administer the “medicine” first.

Ethan’s lips were scorching, tasting of strong liquor. The moment I kissed him, his entire body visibly stiffened. The hand clamped around my neck didn’t loosen; instead, it tightened for an instant, almost sending me to my grave. I desperately pushed myself into his arms, trying to magnify that so-called “body scent buff” through physical contact. This wasn’t healing; this was pulling teeth from a tiger’s mouth. The system counted down in my head. “Life value remaining: 24 hours… 23 hours…” After about five seconds, just as I thought I’d die from lack of oxygen in that kiss, Ethan finally let go. Fresh air rushed into my lungs, and I coughed violently, tears streaming from my eyes involuntarily. Before I could recover, Ethan suddenly gripped the back of my head, reversing our positions. This kiss was devoid of any tenderness, filled with raw predation and release. He seemed to be confirming something, or perhaps seeking a remedy that could calm him. I was pinned against the sofa, unable to move. It wasn’t until I tasted blood in my mouth that he abruptly pulled away. Ethan gasped for breath, his bloodshot eyes fixed on me. Some of the madness had receded, leaving behind a deep intensity I couldn’t decipher. “Who are you?” His voice was hoarse, and his thumb forcefully grazed my swollen lips. I endured the searing pain in my throat, trying to keep my voice professional and calm. “Alice, your therapist.” “Therapist?” Ethan sneered. “Previous therapists just gave me pills. You’re certainly unique, feeding me from your lips right away.” I looked at him, my gaze unwavering. “If it’s medicine, as long as it works, the method doesn’t matter.” Ethan narrowed his eyes, seemingly assessing my threat level. A moment later, he suddenly stood up, looking down at me. “Effective? Let’s see how long the effects last.” With that, he grabbed my wrist and dragged me towards the second floor. His strength was terrifying. I stumbled along, my wrist feeling like it would break. “Where are you taking me?” Ethan ignored me, kicked open a door on the second floor, and flung me inside. The room contained only a massive bed, the curtains tightly drawn, making it oppressively dark. With a click, the door was locked from the outside. Ethan stood by the door and began unbuckling his belt. The sound of the metal buckle clinking was jarring in the darkness. My heart tightened, and I instinctively took a step back. “Mr. Blackwood, is this part of the therapy?” Ethan didn’t stop. He pulled his belt off, tossed it on the floor, and advanced towards me, step by step. “Whether it’s therapy depends on your cooperation.” He cornered me against the bed, leaning one hand beside my head, an overwhelming pressure engulfing me. “That kiss just now made me feel… good.” He lowered his head, his nose almost touching my face. “But I’m not full yet.” The system screamed in my head. “Host! Opportunity! Quick! Take him down!” I mentally cursed. This wasn’t an opportunity; it was a death trap. While Ethan’s current state wasn’t manic, he was clearly more dangerous. He intended to use me as his personal human tranquilizer. I took a deep breath and placed my hand against his chest. “Mr. Blackwood, therapy requires a gradual approach.” “I don’t have patience.” Ethan grabbed my hands, pinning them above my head. “I want it now.” I stopped talking. Because his hand had already found its way under my clothes. If I couldn’t resist, I might as well enjoy it and complete the mission. I closed my eyes, no longer fighting, and instead slightly raised my chin, exposing my vulnerable neck. This submissive posture seemed to please him. Ethan chuckled softly, and his kiss descended. That night, I profoundly understood what it meant to be a “mad dog.” He was utterly unrestrained, as if unleashing years of pent-up emotions. Every touch carried a brutal intensity, as if he wanted to devour me. I was in agony, covered in cold sweat, yet I had to grit my teeth and cooperate, even feigning responsiveness at critical moments. For that one seed, I truly put my life on the line. I don’t know how much time passed, but just before dawn, Ethan finally stopped. He lay on me, his breathing heavy, seemingly asleep. My body felt like it had been run over by a truck; I couldn’t even lift a finger. The system chimed. “Congratulations, Host. Fertility value +30%. Ethan’s gene acquisition successful.” I sighed in relief, tears almost falling. At least this pounding wasn’t in vain. I nudged Ethan, but he didn’t move, sleeping deeply. This was a good chance to escape. Enduring the pain, I slowly, bit by bit, slid out from under him. I haphazardly pulled on the clothes I picked up from the floor and glanced at the man on the bed. Even in sleep, Ethan’s brows were furrowed, as if even sleep brought him no peace. I felt no lingering attachment, turning towards the door. The door was locked, but I was prepared. I pulled a bobby pin from my bag. Picking locks was a skill I’d learned for emergencies. After a few fumbles, the lock clicked open. I tiptoed out of the room and descended the stairs. The villa was silent; the servants had likely all fled in fright. I made my way out of the estate without any trouble, and only when I was in the pre-booked ride-share did I let myself collapse into the backseat. I checked my phone. It was five in the morning. First hurdle cleared. But I couldn’t just leave like this. If Ethan woke up and found me gone, he’d surely tear the city apart looking for me. I needed to cause him some trouble, to keep him occupied for a while. I pulled out my phone and dialed the emergency number. “Hello, 911? I want to report an illegal detention and attempted sexual assault at the Blackwood Estate in the West End.” After hanging up, I removed my SIM card, broke it, and tossed it out the window. Ethan, you’re welcome for this parting gift. The car drove into the city. I asked the driver to stop outside a 24-hour pharmacy. I bought emergency contraceptives. Not to take them, of course, but for show. I flushed the pills down the drain, putting the empty box into my bag. Then I found a public restroom, changed out of my torn clothes, washed my face, and put on light makeup. My reflection showed a pale face with faint dark circles under my eyes, making me look even more pitiful. Perfect. The man I was going to see next would fall for this. I walked out of the restroom and saw a black Bentley parked by the curb. The license plate was familiar. Julian’s car. How was he here? The system suddenly spoke. “Julian has been monitoring Ethan. His people followed you the moment you left Ethan’s estate.” I see. This just got even more interesting. I straightened my skirt, pretending not to notice the car, and walked unsteadily forward. Just as I passed the car, the window rolled down. A cool, low voice drifted out. “Miss Miller, if you don’t mind, I can give you a ride.” I stopped, turning to look. Julian sat in the backseat, his stoic face devoid of any expression. But the look in his eyes, as he watched me, held a hint of amusement. It was the look of a hunter spotting wounded prey.

I got into Julian’s car. The car was filled with a faint sandalwood scent, just like the man himself: cool and reserved. Julian didn’t look at me, as if the woman beside him, fresh from his rival’s bed, was mere air. “Where to?” he asked. I leaned back against the seat, trying my best not to look too disheveled, but the discomfort in my body was impossible to hide. “Just drop me off at any hotel,” I said, my voice a little hoarse. Julian turned his head, his gaze lingering for a second on the bruise on my neck, the one Ethan had left last night. He chuckled softly, a touch of mockery in his tone. “Ethan has a heavy hand.” I didn’t respond, just pulled my collar higher. “Miss Miller, you’re a smart woman.” Julian retracted his gaze, his voice flat. “A madman like Ethan is enough for one time. Keep playing with him, and you’ll lose your life.” I scoffed inwardly. Playing? In their eyes, I was probably just a plaything, risking my life for money. “Since you know where I came from, Mr. Thorne, are you really letting me in your car?” I turned to him, deliberately needling him. “Aren’t you afraid I might ‘snap’ too?” Julian looked at me, his eyes deep. “I’m not interested in madmen, but I am very interested in someone who can make Ethan snap.” The meaning behind his words was clear. He wanted to use me to get to Ethan. Perfect, that suited me just fine. I was already struggling to find a reason to get close to him, so since he delivered himself to my doorstep, he shouldn’t blame me for taking advantage. “What do you want me to do, Mr. Thorne?” I asked directly. Julian pulled a file from the glove compartment and handed it to me. “Be my personal assistant, and my eyes and ears.” His tone was casual. “I want to know all of Ethan’s recent movements. In exchange, I can offer you protection and money.” I took the file and glanced at it; it was essentially a binding contract. But right now, what I needed most was money and protection. The police might hold Ethan off for a while, but that madman would surely be out soon. Hiding with Julian was the safest option. “Deal.” I closed the file. “But I have one condition.” “Speak.” “I want a month’s salary in advance, cash.” Julian raised an eyebrow, seemingly surprised by my bluntness. “Alright.” The car stopped outside a five-star hotel. Julian handed me a room key card. “Penthouse suite. Go clean yourself up, and come see me when you’re presentable.” He said “clean yourself up” with a clear note of disdain in his voice. A germaphobe, indeed. I took the room card, said nothing, and got out of the car. Once in the room, I locked the door, then rushed into the bathroom. The moment the hot water hit my skin, I felt alive again. My body was covered in bruises, thanks to that monster Ethan. I cursed him as I washed, while also plotting how to handle Julian. This guy was immune to conventional tactics, and he was “allergic” to women, so normal approaches wouldn’t work. The system’s data said that Julian was actually a pseudo-ascetic. His repressed desires were stronger than anyone else’s; he just hid them too well. After showering, I ordered room service, which delivered a clean set of clothes and the cash I’d requested. A full hundred thousand dollars. I counted it twice, feeling much better. Money brought a sense of security. The next day, I reported to Julian’s company. If I was going to be a “spy,” I had to play the part convincingly. Julian didn’t shortchange me; he gave me a position as a presidential assistant, which essentially meant keeping me under his watchful eye. But I knew he didn’t trust me. My office computer, even my phone, was surely bugged. That afternoon, I deliberately took a call in the office. It was an insurance telemarketer, but I acted as if I were reporting to Ethan. “Yes, he’s at the office… Right, no plans tonight… Okay, I understand, I’ll keep an eye on things.” After hanging up, I could feel the red light of the camera in the corner of the office blink once. That evening, Julian called me to his villa. It was a sprawling estate nestled on a hillside, filled with books everywhere. The moment I stepped inside, I was hit by the strong scent of sandalwood. Julian sat in the tea room, brewing tea, dressed in a white linen loungewear, looking even more ethereal. “Come here.” He poured a cup of tea and pushed it across from him. I walked over and sat down, picking up the cup and taking a sip. “I hear you contacted Ethan today?” he asked without looking up. I put down the teacup, forcing a wry smile. “Mr. Thorne, since you’re already listening in, why bother asking?” Julian looked up at me. “You’re quite upfront.” “How else can I survive?” I looked at him. “Ethan has leverage over me. If I don’t report something, he’ll kill me.” “What leverage?” I bit my lip, said nothing, but then turned around and lifted the back of my top. There, a vivid red spider lily tattoo was inked on my lower back. I’d gotten it at a small tattoo parlor near the hotel yesterday, to cover a hickey Ethan had left. That spot was too intimate; if Julian saw it, he’d definitely be suspicious. “What is this?” Julian frowned. “A mark Ethan left on me,” I lied without batting an eye. “He said as long as this flower remains, I can only be his.” Julian’s eyes instantly turned cold. A man with such strong possessive tendencies would despise anything belonging to someone else encroaching on his territory. Even if I was just a pawn to him, I could only be his pawn. “Get it removed,” he said icily. “Can’t be removed.” I lowered my top and turned around. “Not unless I peel off the skin.” Julian stared at me for a moment, then suddenly stood up and walked to me. He reached out, and through my clothes, pressed his hand against the spot of the tattoo. His fingers were icy cold, yet they felt like an electric current. “Then we’ll cover it.” After saying that, he suddenly tore at my clothes. The sound of fabric ripping echoed harshly in the quiet tea room. A large portion of my back was exposed to the air. Julian looked at the glaring red spider lily, a flicker of disgust in his eyes, but more so, a provoked possessiveness. “Stay tonight,” he said, his voice low. “Help me meditate.” My heart leaped with joy. Opportunity. Meditate? What kind of sane man keeps a woman overnight to meditate? I nodded obediently. “Alright.” Julian’s room was in the deepest part of the villa. I knelt on a cushion, holding a brush, pretending to transcribe. Julian sat beside me, eyes closed, meditating. Only our breathing filled the room. The atmosphere was so oppressive it made one want to scream. But I knew this was exactly what Julian wanted. He was restraining himself, enduring. After transcribing for a while, I deliberately let my hand tremble, and ink splattered onto my skirt. “Oh dear,” I gasped softly. Julian opened his eyes, looking at me with some displeasure. “What happened?” “I got ink on it.” I looked at him with an innocent expression. “Mr. Thorne, could I borrow some clothes to change into?” Julian glanced at me, his eyes scrutinizing. But he still stood up. “Wait here.” He turned and left. I watched his retreating back, a faint smile playing on my lips. When he returned, he held a loose, white shirt. It was his shirt. I took it but didn’t go to the restroom. Instead, I started unbuttoning my skirt right in front of him. Julian froze. “What are you doing?” His voice held a hint of panic. “Changing clothes, of course,” I said with a look that suggested it was the most obvious thing in the world. What kind of twisted logic was that? But I was betting his mind was already in disarray. As I moved, my skirt slipped down, revealing the black lace lingerie I had carefully prepared underneath. In the dim light, the stark contrast of black and white was incredibly impactful. Julian’s breathing hitched instantly. His usually cool eyes finally showed the desire I wanted to see. “Alice, do you know where you are?” His voice was hoarse, like a warning, yet also a plea. I stood barefoot on the cold floor, stepping towards him, one by one. Until I stood before him, I reached out and hooked my fingers around his sleeve. “I know,” I whispered, leaning close to his ear. Snap. Julian’s tightly strung nerve finally broke. He suddenly reached out, gripped my waist, and pressed me to the floor.

The air in the room was so thin it was suffocating. Julian’s usual aloof, ascetic demeanor shattered completely. At this moment, he was even crazier than Ethan. But his madness was a repressed explosion, carrying a destructive despair. As he moved, he murmured to me, his voice deep and trembling, sending shivers down my spine. This man was truly a pervert to the core. I gritted my teeth and endured, silently counting the time in my head. The system’s fertility buff should have taken effect by now. After an unknown period, Julian finally stopped. He was utterly spent, collapsing beside me, his eyes vacant as he stared at the ceiling. I was exhausted too, covered in sweat, and that white shirt was long since torn beyond repair. I nudged him. “Mr. Thorne?” Julian didn’t move. After a long moment, he turned to look at me. His eyes held an incredibly complex mix of emotions. There was regret, disgust, and a trace of infatuation he himself was unwilling to admit. “Get out,” he rasped, his voice utterly hoarse. I wasn’t angry; instead, I smiled. Telling me to get out at such a moment meant his heart was in turmoil. “Alright,” I scrambled off the floor, picking up my torn clothes and wrapping them around myself as best I could. “Then I won’t disturb your ‘purification’ anymore, Mr. Thorne.” I stumbled out of the room. The night wind outside hit me, and I suddenly felt disgustingly sticky. Back in my hotel room, I took a shower and put on the clean clothes Julian had previously arranged for me. This time, I didn’t linger. Julian’s current state was dangerous; once he fully came to his senses, he might try to silence me to preserve his “moral compass.” I had to run. But I couldn’t just run without leaving a trace. I pulled out my phone and sent Julian a SnapChat message. “Mr. Thorne, what happened tonight will remain my secret. But I need hush money. Five hundred thousand. Transfer it to this card.” After sending the message, I immediately blocked him. This was me testing his bottom line. If he transferred the money, it meant he wanted to keep things quiet. If he didn’t, or even sent people to catch me, it meant he intended to eliminate me. Ten minutes later, my phone vibrated. A bank deposit notification: five hundred thousand dollars. I breathed a sigh of relief. It seemed he still cared about his reputation. With this five hundred thousand, plus the previous hundred thousand, I was much more financially comfortable. I left Julian’s villa that very night. For the next two days, I hid in an inconspicuous motel. The system notified me that the second seed had been planted. Only one left. Leo. This guy was a race car driver, a complete thrill-seeker. But he was different from the first two; they had psychological issues, while Leo was purely chasing adrenaline. To handle him, I had to be even crazier than he was. I checked Leo’s schedule. This weekend, there was an underground race on the winding mountain road. Leo was both the bookie and a racer. I used fifty thousand of the money to buy a used, modified motorcycle and a tight-fitting leather racing suit. On Saturday night, I rode my bike up the mountain. The winding mountain road was brightly lit, filled with luxury cars and attractive women, the roar of engines deafening. Leo leaned against his red Ferrari, a cigarette between his fingers, chatting and laughing with a few people. He had silver hair and a row of earrings, looking rather unconventional, but his face was undeniably handsome and flamboyant. Wearing my helmet, I rode straight towards him and performed an emergency stop. The tires shrieked, and exhaust fumes billowed all over him. Leo coughed a couple of times, his smile instantly gone. “Who’s the idiot? Trying to get yourself killed?” he cursed, stubbing out his cigarette on the ground. I took off my helmet and shook my hair. A chorus of whistles erupted from the crowd. Leo saw my face, paused, then narrowed his eyes. “Never seen you before. New around here?” I dismounted, walked up to him, and looked him straight in the eye. “I heard if you beat you, you can ask for anything?” Leo laughed as if he’d heard a joke, and the crowd egged him on. “Big talk, huh?” Leo took a step closer, looking down at me. “If you beat me, you can certainly make a demand, but can you afford the stakes if you lose?” “If I lose, I’ll give you my life,” I said, my face devoid of emotion. The entire crowd instantly fell silent. The amusement in Leo’s eyes faded, replaced by the madness of someone whose interest had been piqued. “My life?” He reached out and tilted my chin up. “What’s your life worth? But… if you want to play, I’ll play.” “If you lose,” his finger slid from my chin to my collarbone, “tonight, you belong to me.” My heart tightened, but I didn’t show any fear. “Deal.” The race rules were simple: from the mountaintop to the bottom and back. First one to return wins. This mountain road had countless twists and turns, with sheer cliffs on the side and no guardrails. One mistake meant a fiery crash and certain death. I straddled my motorcycle and put on my helmet. Leo also slid into his Ferrari. With a signal, both vehicles shot forward like arrows from a bow. The wind roared in my ears, and the scenery blurred past. Leo’s driving skills were indeed impressive; his turns were terrifyingly precise. But I wasn’t bad either. After all, to save my life, the system had temporarily loaded a “Racing God” skill pack for me. Though it only lasted an hour, it was enough. On a series of hairpin turns, I leaned low, hugging the inside line, and overtook him. In my rearview mirror, Leo’s car clung to my tail. I could sense his excitement, as he started honking wildly and even tried to cut me off several times. This madman was truly playing with his life. Just on the last bend, an accident occurred. There was an oil slick on the road. My wheel spun, and I, along with the bike, skidded out. I rolled several times on the ground, finally stopping at the edge of the cliff, half my body suspended in mid-air. Below was a pitch-black abyss. I was so scared my heart almost stopped. Just then, a screech of brakes sounded. Leo’s car stopped a few meters away. He leaped out, rushed over, grabbed my wrist, and pulled me back from the cliff edge. We both fell to the ground, gasping for breath. Leo was on top of me, his eyes shining with a terrifying intensity. “Damn it, are you really trying to die?” he cursed, but his voice was full of excitement. I looked at him, my heart still pounding wildly. This was the “bridge effect.” In such a life-and-death moment, a person’s defenses are at their weakest, and hormones are at their most active. I grabbed his collar and kissed him. “You wanted my life? Take it.” Leo froze for a second, then cupped the back of my head and deepened the kiss. Right there, in the desolate wilderness, beside a cliff, two people who had just cheated death ignited a fire. As Leo flattened the passenger seat, he was still muttering curses. “I’ve never met a woman as crazy as you in my life.” I thought to myself, you haven’t seen anything yet. To survive, I could be even crazier.

The confined space of the car was stifling, filled with the scent of leather and Leo’s strong aroma, a mix of tobacco and gasoline. This man was a piston, his energy as fast and fierce as his car’s speed. The car rocked violently; I even worried if this multi-million dollar Ferrari would fall apart under his assault. “Scream,” Leo bit my ear, his voice rough. “Weren’t you screaming plenty at the cliff’s edge?” I rolled my eyes; that was out of fright. But for the sake of the mission, I still let out a few cooperative moans. Leo seemed satisfied, and his actions became even more unrestrained. The system appropriately broadcasted in my mind. “Third gene acquisition in progress… 50%… 80%…” I looked at the pitch-black night sky outside the window, with only one thought: it’s finally going to end. These past few days had been pure hell. First the mad dog, then the hypocrite, and finally this daredevil. My body had reached its limit, sustained only by sheer willpower. After an unknown amount of time, Leo finally stopped with a low growl. System. “Congratulations, Host. All three genes collected, gene fusion program initiated.” In that instant, I felt a warm current surge in my lower abdomen. The constant, nagging ache seemed to lessen considerably. It really worked. Leo lay on me like a sated tomcat, idly kissing my neck. “Hey, what’s your name?” he asked. “Does it matter?” I pushed him away and sat up, tidying my clothes. “Of course it matters.” Leo sat up straight and lit a cigarette. “You’re the first woman who dared to overtake me on the track and keep up with me in bed. How about being my co-driver?” I scoffed inwardly. Co-driver? To play with your life? I buttoned up my shirt and pushed open the car door. “No interest.” “Not enough money?” Leo reached out, trying to pull me back. “Name your price.” “It’s not about money.” I looked back at him, my gaze cold. “I don’t play with losers.” Leo was amused. “Loser? If it weren’t for that oil slick, you’d have lost.” “Lost is lost.” I jumped out of the car, uprighting my slightly deformed motorcycle nearby. “A bet’s a bet. Tonight, consider it your overnight fee.” With that, I got on the motorcycle, started the engine, twisted the throttle, and sped away. In the rearview mirror, Leo stood by his car, the cigarette tip flickering, but he didn’t follow. I knew this hurdle was also cleared. Back in the city, I found a place to get rid of the motorcycle and checked into an inconspicuous hotel. Next was the waiting game. Waiting for the pregnancy test results, waiting for this absurd “collecting mission” to finally conclude. Three days later, I bought a bunch of pregnancy tests. Seeing the clear two lines, I let out a long breath. Mission accomplished. But the real trouble was just beginning. None of these three men were easy to deal with. Ethan was surely still looking for that “psychologist.” Julian had probably figured things out by now. As for Leo, that guy was the type who could turn the world upside down if he didn’t get an explanation. Once they found out I’d provoked all three of them simultaneously and was pregnant… That image was too beautiful, I dared not imagine it. I had to disappear. And disappear completely, so they’d give up looking for me. A dead person is never found. I called out to the system. “Help me plan a fake death.” System. “Alright. How about a yacht explosion? The kind where there’s no trace of a body?” “Deal.” I used the money I’d saved to rent a small yacht and booked a time for it to go out to sea on a Saturday. Then, I started writing “suicide notes.” Three of them. To Ethan: “Mr. Blackwood, thank you for showing me the light in the darkness, but I am too tainted for you. If there’s a next life, I hope to meet you in the sunshine.” To Julian: “Mr. Thorne, that night was the most beautiful memory of my life, but I know it was a desecration. I’m leaving, don’t mourn me.” To Leo: “Beating you was the most exhilarating thing I’ve ever done. Don’t look for me, I’m in the wind, forever free.” I scheduled these three letters to be sent automatically, half an hour after the yacht explosion. On that day, the weather was beautiful. I sailed the yacht out to sea alone. Of course, I wasn’t foolish enough to stay on board. The system gave me an “invisibility bug.” Before the yacht reached the designated explosion point in international waters, I had already put on a diving suit and quietly slipped into a passing freighter’s lifeboat. This freighter was bound for another country. Time ticked by. In the distance, a massive explosion suddenly rocked the sea. Flames soared, and thick smoke billowed. The rented yacht instantly disintegrated into fragments. I hid in the shadows, watching the fireball, my heart utterly calm. Alice was dead. From today on, I was new. Half an hour later, my phone indicated that the three emails had been successfully sent. I imagined the expressions on the three men’s faces when they received the letters. Ethan would probably crush his phone, then frantically search the sea for my body. Julian might sit silently in his room all night. Leo would probably drive his car wildly along the coastal road until his fuel tank ran empty. But none of that mattered to me anymore. I touched my still-flat belly. “Babies, Mommy’s taking you to a new life.” The freighter sounded its horn, slowly sailing toward the other side of the ocean. I threw away my SIM card and everything that could prove my identity. Goodbye, New York. Goodbye, infertile tycoons.

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