Author: Momo Chan

It was the tenth year of our relationship. I accidentally answered his phone. “Julian, our furball just had a litter of kittens.” It was a gentle, sweet female voice. The caller ID read: [Little Kitten]. “He’s in the shower. Call back later,” I said, my voice ice cold, before hanging up. That night, Julian went crazy, snatching his scattered clothes off the floor, throwing them on, and rushing out the door. And I? I smashed our “home” to pieces, erasing every single trace of myself. Then, I boarded a flight out of the country. Three years later, Julian cornered me on a resort island. He stared intensely at the little toddler standing next to me, who bore a striking resemblance to him. With bloodshot eyes, he demanded: “Is he mine?” 01 Julian was relentlessly energetic, and I was so exhausted I could barely keep my eyes open. His phone, resting on the nightstand, wouldn’t stop buzzing. Half-asleep, I reached over and hit accept. “Julian! Our furball just had a litter of kittens!” It was a gentle, adorable female voice, but the words made my head explode. All my sleepiness vanished instantly. I glanced at the screen. The caller ID was “Little Kitten.” “Julian?” the voice on the other end called out again. I took a quiet breath, forcing my tone to remain completely flat. “He’s in the shower. Call back later.” There was a pause on the other end, and then the line went dead. When Julian stepped out of the bathroom, he only had a towel wrapped around his waist. Un-dried beads of water traced the lines of his muscles, soaking into the terrycloth. Across his back were a few fresh scratch marks—my handiwork. “Why don’t you sleep a little longer?” His gaze fixed on my collarbone, which was dotted with red marks, and his eyes darkened. As he leaned in to kiss me, I handed him the phone. He frowned in annoyance, snatched the phone, and tossed it carelessly aside. He pinned my wrists down, his breath trailing over my skin. “Little Kitten,” I said. The man burying his face in my neck froze. “She called you. She said your furball had kittens.” Julian was instantly wide awake. Like a madman, he scrambled to grab his clothes scattered around the bed, threw them on haphazardly, and sprinted out the door. I was left alone in the “home” we had decorated together. Watching him run towards another girl. 02 The girl was a blind date arranged by his family. They had started talking three months ago. It took them less than a month to go from meeting to officially dating, and they even adopted a stray cat together. She shared pictures of her food, her music, even a perfectly ordinary cloud in the sky with him. He replied to every single message. He would snap a picture of the dinner I had cooked, crop me out of the frame, and send it to her. Meanwhile, my chat history with Julian was nothing but work, work, and more work. It was only in the middle of the night, wrapped in the sheets, that he would whisper “wifey” in my ear. It was just a dirty word to him, something to spice things up. But I had cherished it, holding it close to my heart for ten long years. I laughed. I reached into the nightstand drawer and pulled out Julian’s pack of cigarettes. I hadn’t smoked in a long time, and the first drag made me choke. I coughed until tears streamed down my face. My coworker, Chloe, sent me a text: “Avery, did you know Mr. Vance is dating someone?” In front of everyone at the office, Julian and I kept things strictly professional. We even argued frequently over differing opinions. No one could ever imagine the scenario of Julian pulling me onto his lap and teasing: “What am I supposed to do with the girlfriend I chose? I just have to spoil her!” It would have seemed completely out of character to them. But today. Julian added that girl to the company’s main Slack channel. “Hi everyone! I’m Mr. Vance’s new personal assistant, Lily. Nice to meet you all~” Her display name in the channel was “Julian’s Little Kitten.” Some things don’t need to be explicitly stated to be understood. I don’t know how Julian explained away the phone call I had answered. All I knew was that Lily started adding everyone in the company on Slack. She was doing a process of elimination. Chloe sent me an eye-rolling emoji. “Work is annoying enough as it is, and now I’m being treated like an imaginary rival.” A moment later, Lily posted an update on her Instagram story. It was a picture of a cup of green tea. The caption read: [Answering someone else’s phone without permission is so classless~] Julian liked the post. Expressionless, I grabbed the baseball bat leaning against the wall and started smashing the apartment to pieces. Only when I was surrounded by a sea of wreckage did I finally smile in satisfaction. When the cleaning crew arrived, I was sitting on the sofa—the only thing I hadn’t destroyed—staring blankly into space. It wasn’t because the sofa was expensive; I was just tired. Honestly, I was so tired. “Ms. Price, are you alright?” Probably seeing how much of a mess I was, one of the cleaners asked. Meanwhile, my chat window with Julian hadn’t had a new message in two hours. I shook my head gently and offered a genuinely relieved smile. “Please pack up and remove all the women’s items from here.” 03 Julian and I went to the same university. He grew up in a very affluent, sheltered environment. His family had his entire life mapped out for him; all he had to do was follow the path. But he was stubborn. He cut ties with his family and started his own business. I was his first business partner. He provided the capital; I provided the sweat equity. I once asked him, why pick me? There were plenty of people at the university with better credentials than me. He casually twirled a pen, studying me intently. A genuine smile reached his eyes. “I like you,” he said. I froze. “—That relentless drive you have. You never surrender.” The fierce, ambitious vitality I possessed back then was what he admired. Later, that same ambition became something he feared. Lily was different from me. She was simple. The kind of woman he wanted to marry was exactly that kind of naive, unambitious girl who would revolve her entire world around him. He was very clear-headed. He knew what he needed, and he went out and got it. He and I were the same kind of people. We fought, we struggled, like predators lying in wait. Because of this, we had a flawless synergy in the business world, constantly strategizing and executing together. The networking at the dinners, the ruthless tactics in negotiations—it helped us climb the ladder rapidly. The night we closed our first million-dollar deal, we both got incredibly drunk. We lay on the bed, surrounded by a sea of hundred-dollar bills. Julian turned his head to look at me, his eyes filled with an emotion I couldn’t quite decipher. “Avery, you are fucking incredible.” I smiled. “You’re not so bad yourself.” The intense workload finally caught up with Julian, the former rich kid. He fell seriously ill with a high fever. I ran myself ragged taking care of him, but he suddenly rolled over and pinned me beneath him. I still remember the redness at the corners of his eyes. His entire body was flushed and burning hot from the fever. “I love you.” This time, there was no hesitation, and no add-on sentence. He stopped suppressing his feelings. The scent that filled my nose was his signature mix of faint tobacco and mint. My broken whimpers were swallowed up as he devoured me completely. It was burning hot. Hot enough to make your blood boil, pulling us both into the abyss. 04 I moved back into my own apartment. I had allowed myself to become too comfortable over the years. I had developed a habit of only being able to sleep in my own bed, resulting in a completely sleepless night. When I arrived at the office, I ran straight into Julian. I gave him a polite, distant nod. Julian frowned. “Julian!” Lily jogged over, inserting herself right between us. “Hi there, I’m Julian’s fiancée.” I nodded and replied, “Hello.” Hearing my voice, her expression fractured slightly. I didn’t bother with small talk and walked straight into the elevator. “You’re Avery, right?” Lily chased after me, with Julian right behind her. “I’ve heard Julian mention you a lot. He says you’re excellent at your job.” “But you know, it’s really not a good look for a woman to be out and about so much, mingling with a bunch of men. Shopping with your girlfriends, getting spa treatments—that’s so much more relaxing and comfortable. Leave the heavy lifting and the real work to the men.” “Don’t you agree, Julian?” Julian stroked her hair, his voice dripping with ultimate tenderness: “How could I possibly disagree with you?” Faced with Lily’s provocation, I showed absolutely no reaction. She must have recognized my voice and was now desperate to flaunt her relationship in front of me, marking her territory over Julian. “While you’re in the office, please refer to me as ‘Ms. Price.’ If you don’t know the proper etiquette, I’ll have HR set up a training seminar for you. Room and board included.” I ignored the reactions of the two people behind me and dramatically flicked imaginary dust off the spot Lily had accidentally brushed against. My reaction, however, enraged Julian. After sending Lily away, he marched straight into my office. I frowned in annoyance. “Mr. Vance, knocking on the door is basic professional courtesy.” I emphasized those last three words heavily. I was throwing Lily’s words right back in his face. He smirked, leaning over and trapping me between his arms and the sofa. “You were the one who willingly opened the door last night.” His gaze swept over the hem of my skirt, his meaning clear. Smack! I slapped him across the face without a second thought. A bright red handprint instantly bloomed on his pale cheek. Julian ran his tongue over the inside of his cheek, chuckled, stood up, and sat down opposite me. “I’ve already had my lawyers transfer the deed for that villa in the Hamptons into your name. And that plot of land you were eyeing upstate? The permits are almost approved.” Julian looked at me with half-lidded eyes, his expression flat. “Let’s make this a clean break.” He always knew exactly where to strike to cause the most pain. I had handed him the knife. And now, he was plunging it into me, again and again. Sitting there, looking down his nose at me, he reminded me exactly of my so-called stepfathers. Preaching love while simultaneously trying to buy me off. The thrill of a new affair disguised as “true love.” When Lily rushed in carrying a lunchbox, she walked in right as I threw a glass of water in Julian’s face. She screamed, charged at me, and slapped me. I have never been one to take a hit without retaliating. The only time I had ever truly lost was falling for Julian. My raised hand stopped mid-air, caught in Julian’s grip. He shielded Lily behind him, his tone laced with anger: “Avery! This is not the place for you to throw a psychotic tantrum!” I raised my other hand and slapped him across the face as hard as I could. Seeing the symmetrical red handprints on Julian’s face made me feel immensely better. “Without Julian, do you really think a woman like you could have reached the position you’re in today?” Lily stepped forward, defending Julian’s honor. “You’re fired.” “On what grounds?!” Lily lifted her chin, trying to look intimidating. “On the grounds that I hold thirty percent of the shares in this company, and on the grounds that you barged into my office without permission and assaulted a senior executive.” Lily panicked, her eyes darting nervously. Seeing that Julian wasn’t reprimanding her, she felt emboldened and continued to challenge my authority. “Julian is the majority shareholder, and I am his fiancée.” “Who do you think you are? If anyone is getting fired, it’s you!” A crowd of employees had already gathered outside the office door. Julian stayed silent, tacitly approving of her behavior and backing her up. There was no point in continuing this argument. “Fine. Let’s dissolve the partnership.” “I’ll sell you my shares at market value.” “Julian, I’ve done everything I can.” Julian, who had been silent, finally showed a crack in his icy facade when I pulled out the dissolution agreement. He probably hadn’t expected me to already have the paperwork ready to walk away. Lily smiled smugly. The one who is favored always feels invincible. “Who called the cops?” I covered my cheek and walked forward, stumbling slightly on purpose. “Officer, I was assaulted. “I’m feeling dizzy, my vision is blurry, and I feel nauseous.” 05 After getting evaluated at the hospital, I was diagnosed with a mild concussion. If I refused to settle out of court, Lily would spend at least a few days in holding. Julian wore a knowing smirk, looking at me like he saw right through my little act. But Lily was finally terrified, nervously tugging at Julian’s shirt. “Julian, I don’t want to spend the night in jail. I’m scared.” Julian softly coaxed her, telling her not to worry, that he would handle everything. With enough money, anything is possible. I wasn’t completely unreasonable, either. As we left the precinct, Julian grabbed my arm and pulled me into the shadows. “For money, you really have no shame.” I hooked my finger into his tie and yanked hard. He was forced to bend down, bringing us eye-to-eye. “If you’re going to step on my face to make your new toy feel important, you should have considered the consequences.” Instead of getting angry, Julian laughed. He reached out and rested his hand on the small of my back, pulling me flush against him. “You need to temper that attitude of yours. What man is going to put up with you?” I shoved him away in disgust and walked towards the parking lot. Julian followed behind me, his voice carrying clearly: “You know how my mother is. Her health hasn’t been great these past two years, and Lily is exactly the kind of girl she likes.” I ignored him, reaching for my car door, but Julian raised his hand and slammed it shut. “Avery, except for marriage, I can give you anything else you want.” “Go to hell!” I yanked the door open, slammed it shut, and sped away. In the rearview mirror, I saw him standing there, hands in his pockets, backlit by the streetlights, his expression unreadable. The streetlights stretched his lonely shadow out long. 06 In the hospital bathroom, I was dizzy and gagging. I had managed to disgust Julian and Lily, but I wasn’t feeling great either. I went home and immediately crashed. When I woke up the next day, I received a call from my mom. “Avery, you haven’t been home for dinner in so long.” I checked the calendar and agreed to go. An unfamiliar face opened the door for me. “Avery, this is your Uncle Bob,” my mom introduced him. I sighed. My mom’s new boyfriend. Unlike the refined, wealthy men she usually went for, this Uncle Bob looked like a regular, blue-collar guy. At the dinner table, my mom eagerly piled food onto my plate. “Avery, Uncle Bob has a son who just graduated college. Let him come work at your company.” Even though I was prepared for it, a flicker of disappointment still crossed my heart. “I quit.” “Why did you quit such a good job? Did you do something to make Mr. Vance angry?” My mom put down her chopsticks in shock. After thinking it over, she offered a suggestion: “Later, buy some nice fruit Baskets and go apologize to him. Julian doesn’t seem like a boy who forgets old friends.” Clatter! I slammed my chopsticks onto the floor, making a sharp, cracking sound. My mom started sobbing, leaning on Uncle Bob’s shoulder and crying: “This child has been stubborn since she was little. Whenever things don’t go her way, she throws things and throws tantrums. If her father hadn’t abandoned us, would I have had to raise a child all by myself and endure so much judgment? Has it been easy for me?” Uncle Bob hugged my mom, looking heartbroken. He comforted her, assuring her that she wouldn’t have to face this alone anymore. “Right, the whole world is wrong except for you. You’re the ultimate victim.” I sneered, ignoring the sickeningly sweet display behind me, and turned to leave. Since I was old enough to understand. Isolation and bullying made up my entire childhood. I was nothing but a bargaining chip for my mom to try and trap my biological father. Her endless clinging and pleading eventually enraged his actual wife. My mom had no choice but to drag me along as we drifted from one city to the next. No one welcomed our arrival; they always just wanted to take advantage of us. I fought off those people like a rabid dog, fighting for our basic rights. But in their mouths, I became a petty, fatherless wild child. “A house needs a man, otherwise widows and orphans will be bullied.” My mom was weak. She pinned all her hopes on men, constantly searching, bringing a steady stream of new “uncles” into our lives, each with their own ulterior motives. That year, I was twelve. I came home to find a drunk man pinning my mom to the floor, beating her. The woman lying on the floor, barely breathing, was my only family in this world. I fought the grown man with every ounce of strength I possessed. The man, having lost his mind, pulled out a knife. I actually felt a sense of relief, sighing that it could all finally be over. But my mom threw herself in front of me, hugging me without hesitation, her pristine white shirt slowly staining a brilliant red. I thought to myself. In this life, we are destined to torture each other. 07 “You sacrificed so much for that company. Are you really okay with just walking away?” Chloe was my protégé; she was very upset about my departure. I rested my chin on my hand and took a small sip of sake. Okay with it? Ten years of love and hate intertwined; I had certainly fantasized about our future. But when forced to choose between two options based on a cold calculation of pros and cons, there are no winners in this game. What’s done is done. Cutting your losses and walking away early is the best bad option you have. Seeing that I had no intention of going back, Chloe started complaining to me. To placate Lily, Julian had given her an empty executive title at the company. But Lily was constantly paranoid, treating every unmarried female employee with suspicion and interrogating them. She implemented absurd new rules, even demanding that women not wear makeup or dresses to work. Clients weren’t immune either, and the company had lost several contracts because of it. This was something I hadn’t anticipated. Julian, who had always been so steady and reliable, was actually allowing this kind of idiotic behavior. Maybe the Julian I knew was never the real him. Or maybe his favoritism toward Lily was the exception to his rules. But none of it had anything to do with me anymore. The day I left New York, there was a light drizzle. My mom was busy bonding with her new stepson. She gave me a few perfunctory instructions over the phone and quickly hung up. Right before I boarded my flight, Mark Davis called me. He was Julian’s childhood friend. We had met a few times and were relatively acquainted. I don’t know where he found out I was leaving the country. “Avery, you don’t need to hide out overseas. “I’m hosting a get-together, and Julian will be there. “Let’s clear the air. We can all still be friends.” 08 In the private room, Mark gripped his phone, his face looking grim. On the other end of the line, Avery had hung up on him immediately. When he called back, he only got the automated voicemail greeting. In an instant, the atmosphere in the room plummeted below freezing. Julian’s eyes were terrifyingly dark, suppressing a volatile rage. That phone call had been his idea. He had genuinely believed that if he offered an olive branch, the other party would gratefully accept it. He asked himself honestly: hadn’t he treated her well enough? He first noticed Avery because of her striking beauty, true. But it was her unrelenting, fiercely stubborn spirit that truly captivated him. He still remembered Avery standing on a stage, challenging the principal over the fairness of the scholarship distribution, a tiny figure fighting against the established rules of the world. He admitted, Avery was extraordinary. But New York City was never short on brilliant people. He gave her resources, he gave her connections, elevating her to the position she held today. He had even publicly acknowledged their relationship to his friends. What more could she possibly want? “Julian, if you can’t let her go, just go after her,” Mark, whose own wife had just left him, advised sincerely. Julian irritably lit a cigarette and let out a cold scoff. “It was just a fling. Does she really think she’s irreplaceable?” Julian acted like he didn’t care, but his erratic behavior recently proved he was just bluffing. For instance, deliberately indulging Lily’s absurd demands at the office, knowing the news would reach Avery. He constantly asked around about Avery’s situation, and had lingered outside her apartment building several times, only to leave. Mark had tried to advise him multiple times, telling him to figure out what his heart really wanted. Julian didn’t care. What right did Avery have to act so tough with him? It was only because she knew he still cared about her. He could give Avery everything, and he could take it all away. Now that his relationship with his family had improved, he only needed to say the word. There were plenty of people clamoring to do his bidding. What happens to a person who relies on calculation and strategy when they lose everything? He was waiting for that day. The day Avery, backed into a corner, finally lowered her head and submitted to him. At that point, for the sake of their ten years together, he would reluctantly take her back.

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While FaceTiming my boyfriend in the new, incredibly short skirt my “uncle” bought for me, my uncle suddenly walked in and pulled me into his arms. Feeling the dangerous shift in his mood, I panicked. But he just let out a low chuckle and covered my mouth with his hand. “This little skirt is meant for my eyes only. Do you understand?” I looked up at him with wide, innocent doe eyes, tears of fear welling up in the corners. My “uncle,” however, just clamped down on my wrists, his eyes gleaming with excitement and a wicked half-smile. “Then I guess I’ll just have to punish you right in front of him. How does that sound?” 01 During the winter holidays while I was back home, my uncle mailed me a little skirt I had been eyeing for ages. It was short, sexy, and incredibly alluring. The moment I unwrapped it, I texted him, thanking him profusely. But my uncle told me I had to wait until I came back to the city to try it on and show him in person. I didn’t think much of it, assuming he just wanted to admire his own good taste in clothing. So, as soon as I got back to my apartment, I slipped into the tiny skirt he sent me and started a video call with my long-distance boyfriend. When the call connected, my boyfriend, Ethan, seemed strangely flustered. The moment he saw me, a look of obvious guilt flashed across his face. “Maya, what made you decide to FaceTime me out of nowhere?” Ethan hadn’t even put his shirt on properly. He gave me a strained, awkward smile. I looked at him, my suspicion growing, and asked point-blank: “Ethan, what are you doing? Why aren’t you even dressed?” A look of embarrassment crossed Ethan’s face, and he quickly tried to cover his tracks. “I just woke up.” “Look, I’ll show you.” I was about to press him further, but Ethan cut me off. He proactively turned his camera to show me his nightstand, which was covered in things related to me, and then the messy, unmade state of his bed. Seeing that, my cheeks instantly flushed a deep pink. Ethan gave a knowing smile and stayed quiet. 02 Seeing his reaction, I quickly changed the subject, taking the initiative to lift the hem of my skirt to show him. “Ethan, look. Do you like my new skirt?” My boyfriend, Ethan, had always been a gentleman. In the six months we had been together, he rarely crossed any lines. We always kept things respectful and PG-rated. But the next moment, Ethan’s eyes lit up intensely. He pointed at the hem of my skirt, his voice laced with excitement: “Maya, stand up. Pull it up a little higher so I can get a better look.” Ethan’s expression was full of amazement; he seemed unusually interested in me at this moment. I felt a bit weird about it. But hearing his words, I instantly understood exactly what Ethan was getting at. I blushed furiously and softly refused him: “This… this isn’t a good idea…” “We’re…” Seeing me refuse, Ethan kept encouraging me: “Maya, we’re doing long-distance now. Shouldn’t we spice things up a bit to keep the spark alive?” Saying that, Ethan showed me his nightstand again. It was covered with my photos and some clothes I had left there. “Look, this is all proof of how much I miss you.” Thinking about it, my resolve began to waver. The hand clutching the hem of my skirt started to uncontrollably pull it up, inch by inch. On the screen, Ethan’s expression grew more and more eager. “Just… just this once…” I bit my lip, muttering softly, ultimately agreeing to his request. On the other side of the screen, Ethan nodded eagerly, his eyes practically glowing as he stared at me. I gripped the hem of my skirt, gritted my teeth, and prepared to pull. Suddenly, the sound of the door opening rang out. A man’s freezing tone made my fingers freeze in mid-air. “Maya. Put it down.” A man in a sharp suit was leaning against the doorframe, his eyes burning like a torch. Those expressive eyes were locked onto me, but his tone was terrifyingly cold. I looked back. Seeing that sharp, handsome face, the movement of my hands stopped instantly. My voice trembled: “U-Uncle?” 03 My uncle had walked into the room so suddenly I didn’t even have a second to react. He had already casually shut the door behind him. He was even holding the suit jacket he had just taken off. He stared at me with a burning intensity, taking slow, deliberate steps toward me. “It’s been a few years, Maya. Have you grown that bold?” “Now you even dare to disobey me?” My uncle questioned me, his tone laced with interrogation, while his eyes remained fixed on my fingers, which were still tightly gripping the hem of my skirt. Seeing this on the video call, my boyfriend instantly turned red with anger: “Who are you? What gives you the right to talk to my girlfriend so intimately?” Ethan was furious. His angry voice was being blasted through the phone’s speaker. Hearing him, I was about to open my mouth to warn Ethan. But my uncle, who had already closed the distance between us, snatched my phone away before I could. After a few years of not seeing him, my uncle had grown even more handsome and captivating. His suit jacket was casually unbuttoned, giving him an incredibly alluring, untouchable aura, while his brow held an air of careless relaxation. I looked up and suddenly met his gaze. His face was impeccably clean-cut. Deep, defined features and a sharp jawline, paired with a pristine white dress shirt. He even had a faint, youthful vibe to him, but mixed with a rugged maturity. He was incredibly striking. Even my boyfriend, Ethan, looked like a little boy standing next to him right now. The difference was like night and day. My uncle merely cast a sideways glance at Ethan on the screen, not saying a single word. He quickly pulled out his own phone and opened the photo gallery. He glanced at me, then handed his phone to me. In the photo, Ethan was passionately entangled with another woman in his own bed, completely lost to the world. The moment I saw Ethan in bed with another woman, my heart plummeted like a stone in an icy lake. Seeing my reaction, my uncle looked at Ethan with contempt and let out a scoffing laugh: “It seems Maya’s taste in men is quite poor.” From start to finish, my uncle hadn’t even looked my boyfriend directly in the eye. Hearing this, Ethan’s face flushed red on the screen as he desperately tried to defend himself: “Maya, this guy is crazy! Why did he barge into your room? He’s talking nonsense, you absolutely cannot believe him.” “You have to believe me. You are the only person I have ever loved!” Heh. Of course I believed my uncle. Because that dress shirt casually tossed at the foot of Ethan’s bed in the photo? That was the one-year anniversary gift I had given him. And yet, he treated it like an eyesore, tossing it carelessly onto the floor. Just like my sincere love for him—completely worthless. 04 I looked at Ethan once, didn’t say a word, but my eyes were filled with profound disappointment. I had been with Ethan for over a year. He had chased me relentlessly for three months before I finally agreed to give him a chance. All the declarations of true love he had made to me in the past were now incredibly laughable. My uncle, standing beside me, saw my heartbreak instantly but didn’t say anything. He just slowly placed his phone on the desk, then beckoned me with a hooked finger, a smirk on his lips as he called me over: “Come here.” My uncle’s low, deep voice was terrifyingly cold in that moment. I didn’t dare disobey. So, instinctively clutching the hem of my skirt, I walked toward him. In my memories, whenever I was upset or crying… My uncle would gently call me over, pull me into his arms, and stroke my back to comfort me. This time was no exception. He pulled me into his arms, used his thumb to wipe away the tears welling up in the corners of my eyes, and asked in a low voice: “Do you like the little skirt I bought you?” I bit my lip hard and nodded, but the tears kept rolling down my cheeks. Wrapped in my uncle’s strong, warm arms, I felt like a sad, obedient little bunny silently crying. Being cheated on by my boyfriend left a bitter, sour taste in my mouth. But Ethan was still frantically trying to defend himself through the phone screen. He even shamelessly started recounting all our past memories, desperately trying to salvage whatever shred of affection I had left for him. But I knew: cheat once, and you’re dead to me. He cheated. How could I ever forgive him? Seeing this, my uncle used his thumb to brush my stray bangs back, gently tucking them behind my ear. “Don’t want to hear it?” He asked in a gentle voice. I nodded, tears still in my eyes. So my uncle grabbed my phone and immediately hit the mute button. The room instantly fell into complete silence. My uncle reached out a finger to gently lift my chin, forcing me to meet his gaze. The tear tracks on my face hadn’t even dried yet. My icy, stiff fingers were still death-gripping the hem of my skirt, afraid to let go. Seeing this, my uncle looked at me with those deep, soulful eyes. A flicker of emotion crossed his gaze, and his tone held a hint of struggle as he reminded me: “The little skirt I bought you is meant for my eyes only. Do you understand?” His domineering, low voice fell into my ears, word by word. It left me too terrified to argue. In a flash, my uncle had already possessively grabbed my freezing, trembling fingers. Then, he enveloped my hands completely in his warm, large palms. The heat seeped through my skin, slowly warming my heart. “Be a good girl. Listen to me. Stop crying.” My uncle’s gentle voice sounded right by my ear: “Don’t be sad. Aren’t I right here?” I was just about to open my mouth to answer him, but— The next second, a warm, soft sensation completely overwhelmed me. A rush of heat spread through my teeth. Without any warning, my uncle’s warm lips covered mine. The heat and a slight bitterness mingled together. I was terrified, but my uncle seemed completely captivated. 05 I stood frozen in place, utterly stunned. My uncle’s deep, passionate eyes were locked intensely onto my lips. And Ethan was watching this entire scene unfold through the phone screen. In my peripheral vision, I could see Ethan’s mouth moving frantically, but no sound came out. I was about to reach over and turn off the phone out of sheer embarrassment. But in a flash, my uncle pulled me tight against him, right in front of my boyfriend’s shocked eyes. “Be a good girl. Listen to me.” The sudden, dangerous shift in my uncle’s mood sent a jolt of electricity through me, leaving my legs weak. I didn’t dare move an inch. He didn’t speak, just continued to gently kiss away the tear tracks on my face. “If you ruin your pretty face crying, I’ll be the one whose heart aches.” Ethan was yelling, but neither my uncle nor I could hear him. However, Ethan could hear every single word my uncle said perfectly clearly. On the other side of the screen, my boyfriend’s face was flushed red with anger. He glared at us furiously, but he still couldn’t make a sound. My uncle carelessly stroked the back of my neck, his tone laced with amusement: “What, haven’t given up on him yet?” He gently forced my head to turn back towards him. My gaze was forced to land on the pronounced bump of his Adam’s apple. I looked up, and my surprised eyes met his strict, judging gaze. “…No…” I was about to deny it. But my uncle just smiled. Then, he pulled me closer, wrapping me tightly in his arms, and let out a low chuckle: “Then let me punish you right in front of him. How does that sound?” Hearing those words, I felt like I was going to die on the spot. My terrified gaze darted around frantically, not knowing where to look. I thought my uncle was just threatening me, trying to force me to make a clean break with Ethan. But then, his warm hand began to slowly, inch by inch, invade my skin. The heat rushed over me through my pores. My uncle wore a wicked half-smile, his eyes locked onto my lips, radiating pure aggression. My boyfriend, Ethan, could only watch helplessly as my uncle held me, too angry to speak. As for me, no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t push my uncle away. His kisses fell on my lips like dense raindrops, mixed with the intoxicating scent of tobacco and pure testosterone. His low, heavy pants echoed one after another, inexplicably plucking at my heartstrings. 06 My uncle’s behavior was dangerously chaotic and unhinged. Even though we were in my bedroom. Even though my ex-boyfriend was watching. My uncle showed no restraint. He leaned down, his lips brushing against my ear, and even dared me to try and push him away, to try and escape: “Tell me, Maya. Who treats you better? Me, or him?” “…No… I don’t want to…” I refused to answer, my voice trembling, but my uncle relentlessly backed me into a corner. He only wanted to hear the answer he was looking for from my mouth. I didn’t answer; I just bit my lip and kept refusing. “…No…” My refusal was entirely useless. My uncle let out a scoffing laugh, picked up the phone, turned the camera towards himself, and said disdainfully: “Your name is Ethan, right?” Ethan, finally unmuted by my uncle, was glaring at him with a cold, mocking sneer: “You’re truly disgusting. You won’t even spare your own niece.” Hearing this, my uncle just smiled: “Then does Maya know who the woman in your bed is?” In my peripheral vision, I saw Ethan’s eyes turn red with anger at those words. He stopped talking. I looked at my uncle and asked softly: “Who is it?” My voice had suddenly turned ice-cold. My uncle looked at me and gestured for me to come closer. I hesitated for a few seconds, but complied. He smiled in satisfaction, then asked me: “Is your uncle better, or is he better?” But this time, before I could even answer. My uncle grabbed my slender, warm fingers and, right in front of Ethan, placed them directly onto his burning hot abs. Seeing this, Ethan’s face went purple with rage. Having been with Ethan for so long, I knew perfectly well. Ethan didn’t have abs. He barely had any muscle on his entire body. He had even naively asked me if I disliked him having muscles because I was worried he’d pull something working out. And I, like an idiot, had actually agreed with him. Now, feeling my uncle’s abs… it actually felt pretty good. My uncle glanced at me, then asked affectionately: “Now that you’ve felt it, it’s your turn, right?” Hearing this, I blinked my wet, teary eyelashes at my uncle, looking completely lost. 07 My uncle, however, gave a knowing smile: “What, are you going to be unfair about this?” On the screen, Ethan was about to start yelling again, but my uncle abruptly hit the end call button. “Let’s keep doing things that will drive him crazy. How does that sound?” I looked at my uncle, my fingers trembling as they gripped the hem of my skirt. My voice was filled with panic: “What…?” My uncle smiled, but then he reached out and handed me a few photographs. I took them, feeling a bit scared, but I noticed the face in the photos looked strangely familiar. “Is this… Auntie?” Hearing this, my uncle almost choked on his own breath. He looked at me with deep resentment and flicked me on the forehead. “What kind of nonsense are you talking about? If I had a wife, would I be kissing you?” He used his thumb to wipe away the last teardrop from the corner of my eye, his tone affectionate: “Look closer.” I looked down, focusing on that strangely familiar face. I felt like I had definitely seen this person before, but I just couldn’t place her. It wasn’t until my uncle tapped Ethan’s name that I finally remembered: “It’s Ethan’s sister!” “Oh, wait, no. He said she was his cousin!” I remembered perfectly well how smug and proud Ethan looked when he introduced his so-called “cousin” to me. My uncle smiled: “You guessed right. As a reward, I’ll give you a few more. How’s that?” So, my uncle handed me a few more photos. I couldn’t wait to grab them and look. But this time, my face instantly burned bright red. It was like a fiery sunset had been painted across my cheeks. Seeing this, my uncle reached out and touched my cheek with his thumb. The burning heat instantly transferred to his fingertips. He smiled: “What’s wrong?” He knew exactly what was wrong. The photos he handed me were all highly explicit, intimate photos of Ethan and his “cousin.” Not only did they make me blush, but they acted like a sharp knife plunging deep into my heart. “Uncle…” I called out to him, my voice awkward and strained. But my uncle just laughed out loud. He picked up the suit jacket he had taken off earlier, draped it over my legs, and then pulled me into his arms. In his embrace, he gently rubbed his nose against mine: “Do you understand now, Maya?” He asked me, his tone teasing. I silently lowered my head: “So… he’s been with his ‘cousin’ this whole time?” My uncle shook his head: “That’s not what I wanted you to notice.” He gently corrected me. I was confused: “Then… what is it?” I stared into his deep, soulful eyes. He even had a small, reddish teardrop mole faintly visible at the corner of his eye. Looking at his exceptionally handsome features. I felt like I was falling for him, but then I instantly snapped back to reality. This was my uncle! I kept repeating it to myself in my head. But he didn’t give me a chance to stay rational. He pulled me close with force, so determined that he left me no room to escape.

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My new intern is sweet, obedient, and completely innocent. Every day, I drag him into my passionate rants against our boss: “Repeat after me! Down with capitalism! Power to the working class!” He obediently repeats it. Me: “The evil corporate overlords will eventually face their demise!” He furrows his brow, looking a little hesitant: “The evil corporate overlords… will eventually face their… demise.” Me: “The CEO’s son is a pompous, trust-fund prick!” His face instantly turns beet red: “Miss… don’t you think that’s a bit too harsh?” 01 “Huh? Whose side are you on?” Cole blinks his puppy-dog eyes, offering a completely harmless smile: “Yours, obviously.” “Then what are you scared of? It’s not like you’re the CEO’s son.” I narrow my eyes, looking him up and down. “Wait… there’s a rumor going around that the Crown Prince is undercover at our branch. It couldn’t be you, could it?” Cole’s eyes dart away for a second. “Um… are you hungry? We should check the UberEats lunch specials.” “True,” I scoff. “As if a billionaire heir would be splitting a ten-dollar BOGO coupon with a peasant like me.” “They’re probably eating filet mignon and drinking vintage wine for every meal!” Cole chuckles softly, his eyes shining as he looks at me. “The way you talk is so cute.” I raise an eyebrow at him. “Smooth talker. Alright, today we’re upgrading to the twelve-dollar combo!” 02 Cole is the new intern at our company. Soft, fluffy hair, puppy-dog eyes, and crisp white button-down shirts always buttoned to the very top collar. When he smiles, two little dimples appear. He’s sweet and pure. He just comes from a modest background. Every time we split a lunch order, he’s never picky. He eats whatever I order, and cleans his plate completely, like a giant, easily satisfied golden retriever. And he’s incredibly easy to tease. The second I call him “kid,” the tips of his ears turn bright red. “Hey kid, you want the teriyaki bowl today? I’ll add an extra egg for you.” Sure enough, his face flushes again. But today, completely out of the blue, he sends me a link. “Let’s not do the cheap combo today. Let’s do this.” “Sure.” I click the link: [Michelin-Star Kaiseki – Premium Tasting Menu for Two]. ??? My eyes practically pop out of my head. “This is not the UberEats I know.” His eyes curve into a smile. “This is the fancy eats.” “Kid, do I look like someone who can afford this on a four-thousand-dollar monthly salary? What kind of lunch delivery costs $588? That’s highway robbery!” His tone is confident. “If we take three pictures and write a 15-word Yelp review, they’ll refund us $568 as a promotional rebate.” “Seriously? Are you sure?” “Positive. You can call the restaurant and ask.” Cole leans in, lowering his voice. “Last time I went to their physical location, I got a $1,600 meal and they refunded me $1,550.” How does this kid keep stumbling into these insane luck-of-the-draw promotions? Well, I can’t say no to that. If there’s a loophole to exploit the capitalists, I’m taking it. And just like that, Cole and I upgraded from “cheap lunch buddies” to “exploiting corporate promotional loopholes buddies.” 03 New Zealand scampi. Chew, chew, chew. A5 Japanese Wagyu. Chew, chew, chew. Hokkaido sea urchin. Chew, chew, chew. I gossip while I eat: “I got a reliable tip. Apparently, the CEO’s son is super tall and insanely hot. Like, A-list celebrity hot.” Cole, who is currently drinking sparkling water, violently chokes. “Cough, cough… seriously? That exaggerated?” I chew on my fork, thinking. “Hey? Now that you mention it, are there any super hot guys in your intern class?” I frown, my gaze landing squarely on him. “Why do I feel like… you’re the best-looking one?” Cole’s Adam’s apple bobs. He involuntarily loosens his tie. At first glance, this guy looks like an obedient, soft-haired puppy. But looking closely, his facial features are actually incredibly sharp and defined, with a high, straight nose bridge. He’s a very, very pretty puppy. Maybe my female-gaze stare is a bit too blatant. Cole’s chest visibly heaves, the muscular outline beneath his dress shirt subtly flexing. Pop. A button on his shirt flies off. And it pops off in the most precarious, perfectly placed spot. Through the gap, I can simultaneously see the defined lines of his pecs and his upper abs. Cole immediately grabs the gaping fabric, his face turning the color of a boiled lobster. “D-don’t look…” “Oh, please, I already saw it.” I rest my chin on my hand, highly satisfied. “Hehe. Not bad at all. “Alright, I know you aren’t the CEO’s son. What kind of billionaire heir wears cheap shirts that pop their buttons? “Plus, you curse out the corporate overlords with me every day. A guy wouldn’t curse himself out, right?” Cole lowers his head, rubs his nose, and stays completely silent. As obedient and guilty as a big dog with its ears pinned back. 04 The CEO is coming to inspect our branch next month. Everyone is running around like headless chickens, on high alert. VP Miller, our notoriously awful middle manager, dumps a mountain of his own backlog onto my desk. “Mr. Miller, I haven’t even finished my own quarterly reports yet.” “Then do it after hours,” Miller shoots me a cold, dismissive look. “Time is like water in a sponge; if you squeeze hard enough, you’ll always find some. “Riley, this is a prime opportunity to show off your skills in front of the CEO. You better cherish it.” Evil corporate overlords! Even a petty middle manager like Miller gets to enslave bottom-tier corporate drones like me. I sit at my desk, radiating pure resentment, typing furiously on my keyboard. A slice of strawberry shortcake is carefully slid across my desk. Half of Cole’s head peeks out from behind my monitor. “You’re typing like you’re firing a machine gun. Bad mood?” “No shit!” I glare viciously at the screen. “I don’t want to ‘show off my skills’ to the CEO. I’m just a corporate drone, and this drone just wants to go to sleep.” Cole looks surprised. “Are you presenting this report to the old man?” “Who’s the old man?” “I mean… the CEO.” Cole clears his throat softly. “I’m so used to cursing out the capitalists with you, it just slipped out.” “Watch your mouth around the office, kid,” I lecture him. Cole chuckles, muttering something incredibly softly: “It’s fine to meet him. We’ll have to meet him sooner or later anyway.” 05 After that, Cole constantly finds excuses—usually involving our “lunch deals”—to stay late and keep me company while I work overtime. He somehow always manages to find these incredible “free tasting” promotions. Private chef menus, high-end sushi, French cuisine, Italian… “Why don’t you just move a whole Michelin-star restaurant into the office?” I stare, dumbfounded, at a massive, perfectly steamed red grouper. Cole scratches his head sheepishly. “Well, all these places offer two-person tasting menus, and you’re my only food buddy.” Whatever. It’s free. Chew, chew, chew. Cole sits at my computer, helping me format data. This wage slave is finally experiencing the luxury of having a younger, prettier wage slave do her work. While eating, I start scrolling through TikTok. The algorithm, doing what it does best, feeds me an endless stream of shirtless male fitness models posting thirst traps. “What are you looking at? Why are you smiling like that?” Cole suddenly leans over and asks. My grin is stretching from ear to ear; I can’t hide it fast enough. I have no choice but to bluff my way through: “I am simply admiring the impressive fitness results of these creators and offering them my supportive ‘likes’.” Cole blinks innocently. “Then why is he doing pushups while wearing a leather choker?” “…Aesthetics.” “Do you like that?” “I work out too.” He looks at me with sheer, unadulterated earnestness, his eyes clear. “Do you want to inspect my results?” Before I can even process what’s happening, Cole grabs my hand and presses it flat against his chest. “I think I’ve made decent progress.” He guides my hand lower. “What do you think?” Through the thin fabric of his shirt, his pecs are full and firm, and the ridges of his abs are distinct and rock-hard. It feels absolutely incredible. I finally understand why older men like innocent, naive young girls. His oblivious, accidental seduction is practically a lethal weapon. “Not bad,” I say, forcing myself to stay calm and swallowing hard. “With this level of fitness, you could totally make thirst trap videos… “I mean—fitness videos! Educational fitness videos!” 06 The day of the CEO’s inspection finally arrives. VP Miller trails right beside the CEO, acting as sycophantic as a groveling little troll. The CEO flips through the printed presentation materials. As he reads, he suddenly chuckles. “This report is very unique. It’s concise, clear, and… highlights the key points perfectly. “Who put this together?” VP Miller instantly jumps in to steal the credit. “Mr. Sterling, I did!” “You?” The CEO frowns, looking thoroughly disgusted. “He didn’t make it,” Cole’s voice suddenly rings out. “What do you mean I didn’t make it?!” VP Miller snaps, jumping in panic. I frantically tug at Cole’s shirt hem. Lord have mercy, shut your mouth! But this idiot completely ignores me, declaring with absolute righteousness: “Because I watched Riley Brooks make it.” I close my eyes and pray for a swift death. My career is officially over as of today. It wasn’t until later that I found out what the CEO actually saw in the report. On the very last page of the printed materials, there was a tiny line of text Cole had typed in: [This summary was made by your future daughter-in-law. Praise her.] … The CEO calls me into the VIP reception room. I thought he was going to ask me about the company’s operations, but instead, he just makes small talk. The CEO is beaming, looking as friendly as an amiable neighbor: “Riley, right? Don’t be nervous, I’m a very easygoing guy.” Then he proceeds to ask me things like, “Is the workload too heavy?” and “Are your parents doing well?” And at the very end, he actually asks me for my thoughts on older woman/younger man relationships. “What did you say?” When I step out, Cole asks me, looking noticeably nervous. “I said age doesn’t matter, as long as he has big muscles.” I stare blankly ahead in a daze. “And then the CEO laughed. His executive secretary stood there clapping, saying the CEO hasn’t laughed that hard in years.” Cole starts laughing too. “You better back up those words with actions.” “You should be worrying about how you offended VP Miller,” I sigh heavily. “He’s incredibly petty. “The last guy who called him ‘Assistant VP’ instead of ‘VP’ was forced to resign. We’re both probably dead meat.” Cole looks completely relaxed. “It’s fine. You have me.” I look at him with deep pity. Ah, the fearless arrogance of a newborn calf. “What exactly is an intern making minimum wage going to do?” “Didn’t you say my body was pretty good?” Cole shrugs. “Worst case scenario, I’ll go film thirst traps to support you.” 07 That evening is the welcome banquet for the CEO. Formal attire is mandatory. Wearing a cocktail dress and stilettos, I stumble my way into the lavish, gilded banquet hall. It’s a sea of designer gowns, champagne flutes, and elite networking. A room full of VIPs I don’t recognize. When I finally spot Cole, I almost don’t recognize him. “Why did you dress up so much?” He’s wearing a perfectly tailored, dark grey bespoke suit. His usually soft, fluffy hair is slicked back cleanly, exposing a sharp forehead and piercing eyes. The glasses are gone, and his features are so strikingly handsome they’re almost intimidating. His aura is completely overwhelming. I click-clack over to him in my heels. I drag him to the buffet table and start inhaling the hors d’oeuvres. “What does an event like this have to do with us anyway?” I shove a mini tart into his hand and happen to catch a glimpse of the watch on his wrist. “This fake Patek Philippe… is actually incredibly detailed. It’s so shiny.” A vein twitches in Cole’s temple, but he doesn’t say a word. I look up, only to see VP Miller marching toward us with a face like thunder. “We’re dead, we’re dead. Miller is coming to collect our souls!” He definitely couldn’t find an excuse to yell at us in the office earlier, and now he’s finally caught us. Miller approaches, giving us a fake, plastic smile, his tone dripping with sarcasm: “Well, well, Riley. You certainly stole the spotlight today. “But don’t you forget who your actual boss is. You’re young, you need to know your place, understand?” From the side, Cole comments dryly: “Not for much longer.” Miller instantly explodes: “I haven’t even started on you yet! Who told you to interrupt?!” I quickly try to smooth things over: “Mr. Miller, please, calm down. He’s just an intern, he doesn’t know any better…” “An intern?!” Miller raises his voice, spit practically flying into my face. “Believe me, I can have both of you fired by tomorrow morning!” “Who are you firing?” a deep, steady, amused voice cuts in. The CEO, Richard Sterling, had silently walked up beside us. “Mr. Miller, you certainly enjoy throwing your weight around.” Miller instantly shrinks into a quivering mess, wiping sweat from his forehead. “I wouldn’t dare, Chairman Sterling! It’s just this intern, he has absolutely no respect for authority. “I had to discipline him, otherwise what if he offends you?” “That is true,” the CEO nods, looking profoundly agreeable. “This kid has no respect for authority at home, either. “He won’t even call me ‘Dad’ properly. Just calls me ‘old man’ all day long.” … The air freezes. Miller is sweating buckets, his eyes bulging so hard they might pop out of his skull. Wait… who is calling who Dad? Who is whose father?! 08 A few minutes later, the CEO drags Cole onto the stage. “Ladies and gentlemen, allow me to introduce my son, Cole Hayes. He just returned from his studies in Germany and is currently starting from the ground up as an intern in our branch…” I don’t know if VP Miller dropped to his knees. Because I had already bolted. Lifting my annoying dress, I stumble and practically sprint out the back doors. After a few blocks, I’m completely out of breath and collapse onto the edge of a concrete planter. Deep breaths. Stay calm. Then I begin to frantically review the tape: What the hell did I do in front of the ultimate capitalist heir? “…The CEO’s son is a pompous, trust-fund prick.” I made him do my work. I touched his abs. I told him he should film borderline-NSFW thirst traps. Ok, fine. It’s over. We working-class folks don’t start trouble, but we’re definitely terrified of it. Since I’ve already caused a catastrophic mess, there’s only one way out—resignation. I need to get home first! As I stand up, I realize I was running so frantically that I think I twisted my ankle. “Hiss…” I drop my butt back onto the planter. “Where are you trying to run?” Cole’s voice sounds from above my head. A suit jacket, still carrying his body heat, is draped over my shoulders. “The night wind up here is a bit chilly. Don’t catch a cold.” I close my eyes and accept my fate. Cole sits down next to me on the planter. Like I’ve been electrocuted, I scoot a few inches away. “What? Because I’m a capitalist heir, you need to draw a clear line in the sand?” I grit my teeth: “Your last name is Hayes. Shouldn’t the Crown Prince’s last name be Sterling?” “I took my mother’s maiden name. She passed away when I was young.” …A massive miscalculation on my part. A moment of silence passes. He turns his head, looking at me cautiously. “Are you mad?” “This lowly peasant wouldn’t dare.” “So you are mad.” He suddenly crouches down in front of me, tilting his face up, looking at me with those innocent puppy-dog eyes. “How about you hit me? I didn’t mean to lie to you.” I’m not falling for this again! Even if he grabs my hand and uses it to punch his own pecs… Even though the muscle definition feels incredible, I am not falling for it again! “How could I dare strike the Crown Prince?” I coldly pull my hand back. He stays in his crouched, kneeling position, lowering his pride to the absolute dust: “On one hand, I didn’t want to expose my identity so I could observe the real operational status of the branch.” “On the other hand, it was for my own selfish reasons.” He looks up, staring directly into my eyes. “I wanted to get close to you.” I look away. “Why would you want to get close to me?” “If you knew who I was from the start, would you still have split cheap lunches with me and cursed out the corporate overlords?” “Hell no!” He raises an eyebrow, putting on a ‘See? I told you so’ expression. “So I didn’t really have a choice.” “Wait!” I suddenly remember. “So all that incredible luck was fake? The Michelin-star meals, the private chefs… all of those promotions were just you tricking me?” Cole guiltily averts his eyes, looking exactly like a giant golden retriever that just chewed up a pair of sneakers, avoiding its owner’s gaze. “I’m going to pay you back for all of that!” I stomp my foot in anger, entirely forgetting my injury, and instantly gasp in pain. Cole immediately notices. “You twisted your ankle?” I bite my lip and nod. Without another word, he stands up and scoops me into his arms, carrying me princess-style. “What are you doing?! Put me down!” I scream and struggle. “Not a chance. Dream on.”

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While sitting on my sugar daddy’s lap acting cute, I suddenly became self-aware of the plot I was in. I was the cannon fodder bedmate for several powerful young heirs in New York’s elite circle, destined to die from exhaustion in bed. Terrified, I grabbed Liam’s hand, which was roaming my waist, my voice trembling: “Maybe we shouldn’t…” Liam was indifferent: “If we don’t do it now, I’m going to the airport.” Today was the day his adopted sister was returning to the States. I asked tentatively: “Are Cole and the others going too?” Liam sneered: “They can go if they want. I hope they get run over on the way.” I was thrilled. With the beloved “White Moonlight” returning, I wouldn’t have to die in this bed! 1 Liam wasn’t angry that I rejected him. He just lowered his eyes and gave me a lazy, dismissive glance. Thinking about his adopted sister’s return must have put him in a good mood lately. So, he simply got up, grabbed his phone, pushed open the suite door, and left. He didn’t look at me again. I stared at his tall, lean back. In the original plot, this is where things went wrong. Not only did I sleep with Liam, but I got carried away and went too far. It made Liam miss picking up his adopted sister from the airport. Liam was worn down by me and agreed to stay, so Cole and the others went to pick her up instead. They even went to a hot spring resort together. And that very night, Liam’s adopted sister, Chloe, accepted a confession from one of the other guys. Then Liam went crazy and blamed everything on me. Later, Chloe broke up with that guy. Liam became pathologically obsessed with Chloe on one hand, while tormenting me in bed on the other. Just when I couldn’t take it anymore. Cole, the only heir in that circle who hadn’t had an improper relationship with me, descended like an angel. He gently and calmly pulled me into his arms, “You shouldn’t be treated this way. Be with me.” And then… Cole was even more of a fucking psycho! In the end, my two-timing was exposed. That night, in bed, can only be described with one word: Despair. Honestly, I was completely broken. If someone in the underworld asked: How did you die? I’d answer: I was f***ed to death. … Damn, that’s too horrifying! Even if I have to die, I refuse to die in such an incredibly humiliating way! I absolutely will not follow the original plot. Starting right now, I’m going celibate. The love stories of these rich heirs and heiresses have absolutely nothing to do with me. I just want to survive. I sniffled and went to look in the mirror. A necklace around my neck, bracelets on my wrists, and even an anklet. Although wearing so much was a bit tacky, they were all sparkly, and I really liked them. If I hadn’t become self-aware, I probably would have acted just like in the original plot: arrogant, spoiled, and overly confident because of the favor shown to me. After all, in my eyes, Liam truly spoiled me. Because of his indulgence, I overestimated my place in his heart. Normally, if other pretty girls got even a little close to him, they were chased away, and he would just hold me and smile lazily. So I didn’t know that his adopted sister was the only one truly special to him. And I was just a distraction he was somewhat satisfied with. I even used to throw my weight around in front of those other heirs, relying on Liam’s backing. Thinking about it now, they probably thought I was ridiculous. Just a plaything, yet so full of myself. 2 Liam’s usually empty Instagram feed featured a photo for the first time. It was a group photo with Chloe. Liam must be really happy. He didn’t miss it like in the original plot. My eyes uncontrollably fell on the center of the photo. Brown, slightly wavy long hair, the woman wore a red maxi dress, heels, and a bright smile. The powerful young heirs I saw as golden boys and masters of the universe looked like obedient, well-behaved little brothers next to her. From beginning to end, they belonged to the same world. A sour feeling spread in my heart. I silently turned off my phone. Then, I started packing my bags. Some bags, some jewelry… I planned to sell them. Then, use the money I saved to buy a small, first-floor apartment in my hometown, plant some flowers, and take care of a garden. That was my childhood dream. But later, the glitz and glamour wrapped me up so tightly. And I forgot. After packing. I dragged my suitcase to a hotel, slept until I naturally woke up, and then leisurely strolled down to the hotel’s public lounge area. And then I spotted a few familiar silhouettes. I froze instantly. And immediately turned around. Only to be stopped by a smiling voice: “Maya? Why are you leaving without saying hi when you see people you know?” Several pairs of eyes locked onto me at once, making my skin prickle like needles on my back. That obnoxious flirt, did he really have to have such sharp eyes? I wiped my face, forced a difficult smile, and turned around: “Hi, what a coincidence!” My eyes met Liam’s. He tilted his head back slightly, downing the liquor in his glass in one gulp. He didn’t say a word. Instead, it was Cole who smiled slightly, his voice magnetic and calm: “What brings Ms. Price here?” Oh, interrogating me about why I’m at a hotel? I haven’t even asked what several men and one woman are doing at a hotel together. I also smiled: “Waiting for my boyfriend.” The air went silent. Only the smooth English pop music played in the background. Liam gave me a cold glance and poured himself another drink. Right, in front of Chloe, he and I were always strangers. Chloe’s beautiful almond eyes narrowed slightly, “You all know each other? Aren’t you going to introduce us?” Still silence. Because no one knew how to introduce me. After all, I never had an official title, not even as their friend. I didn’t want to make a fool of myself any further, so I said: “You guys carry on, I’m going to head out.” I turned and walked a few steps before a pair of cool hands grabbed my wrist. A pair of captivating, flirtatious eyes leaned in close to my face. “Maya, come hang out with us.” That obnoxious, big-mouthed flirt. He had just called me out, and now he wouldn’t let me leave. He used to be like this too, forcibly dragging me out to party. If I didn’t play along, he’d say I didn’t love him, only for me to end up watching him—Julian—flirt and drink with other beautiful women. Seeing my lack of reaction, he blinked. Then softened his tone: “Maya, why don’t you bring your boyfriend along too?” I remained expressionless. Julian’s face was handsome in a different way from the others; he had a knack for bewitching people. Callous yet incredibly charming. He knew his physical advantages and was accustomed to using his face to get what he wanted. Just like right now. His high nose bridge gently brushed against my cheek, and he whispered: “But Maya, we’ve been to this hotel before. Staying here with your boyfriend… won’t that make you think of me? Or perhaps, you don’t actually have a boyfriend?” I took a step back. Julian smiled, the end of his sentence light as a feather: “Hmm?” A sticky, oppressive feeling. I stared at him steadily for a few seconds. I hated Julian’s know-it-all attitude. I raised my hand and slapped him. The sound was loud and crisp. He turned his head slightly, a red handprint blooming on his pale skin. “Stay away from me.” I took a napkin and wiped my hand. “You’re dirty.” 3 After returning to my suite, I felt bored again. If nothing unexpected happens tonight, Chloe is going to get confessed to. But with Liam here this time, will the confession be successful? Maybe two guys will compete to confess. Then we’ll see which one Chloe graces with her favor tonight. Wait. I sat bolt upright in bed. The young heir who confessed to Chloe in the original plot… I didn’t see him tonight. And shouldn’t they be at a hot spring resort? Why are they at a hotel? I pulled out my phone and opened the chat with that particular heir. Our last conversation was half a month ago. [Where are you?] I asked. A few seconds later. [?] Then he sent an address. A freaking library. I was shocked. Why was this deviating from the plot? I sent him the hotel address. [Hurry, your future wife is here, quick, quick, quick.] If you don’t hurry, the wife that was originally yours will be gone. Even though they were going to break up later, I just couldn’t stand seeing Liam take advantage of the situation. [Okay.] he said. About ten minutes later. [Open the door.] I stayed silent for a few seconds, typing slowly: [Whose door?] He didn’t reply. Then I heard a commotion outside. The suite had great soundproofing; if I could hear it like this, it must be really loud. I pushed the door open. Liam stared straight at me: “Why is he here?” I turned my head numbly and met another pair of dark eyes. Me: “…I don’t know either.” Liam turned his head coldly, “Got the wrong room?” The other guy: “…” Liam was already used to this. He frowned tightly, about to say something else. But he was called away by a phone ring. After walking two steps, Liam received a message. He returned with a very displeased look on his face, grabbing the guy next to him and dragging him away. “My sister told you to come too.” Under my watchful eyes, the two tall figures left this floor. I paused, then closed the door. Well, everything is getting back on track. I didn’t expect that a few minutes later, Liam sent a message, still as condescending as ever: [Why was he at your door?] Me: [Oh, he’s the boyfriend I was talking about.] [.] Liam didn’t believe it. [Wait for me tonight.] he added. [You aren’t staying with your sister?] I frowned. Liam paused for a long time on his end before replying: [I don’t need to stay with her. She has someone she likes.] I froze for a second. It seems that, just like in the original plot, Chloe and the late-arriving heir liked each other. Sure enough, those two words were sent to the wrong person. They weren’t for me; they were for Chloe. I hugged a throw pillow. I’m so jealous. Jealous of being liked by everyone, respected by everyone. I expressionlessly texted Liam back: [Does that mean I need you?] Liam: [? Then who do you need, Julian? He’s the same with all women, don’t flatter yourself.] I paused, realizing something. He didn’t know about what happened between me and Julian. He thought Julian leaning in tonight was just because he saw a woman and wanted to flirt… However, Julian, the playboy, really did treat every woman the same. I had self-awareness regarding this point. So. In Julian’s eyes, the beautiful and capable Chloe was the only bright red rose among a bunch of ordinary flowers. Liam’s rivals were far more numerous than he imagined. I let out a slow sigh. I suddenly received a message on Poshmark. A pink avatar. [How much is the bracelet?] I replied instantly: [20k, massive discount. Local pickup only.] [Can do.] The other side sent an address over. I stared at the address. [I’m actually here right now, sister.] The other side seemed very shocked: [What a coincidence. Should we meet in the lobby? Or the public bar?] I thought about it. If I were seen by Liam in a public area, he would probably kill me for selling the bracelet he gave me… I probably wouldn’t get a moment of peace the entire night. [Sister, would it be convenient for me to come to your door, or you to mine for the transaction?] The other side quickly fired back a room number. We were on the same floor. I just knocked once, and the door opened. A casually slouched man leaned against the wall, wearing a bathrobe that exposed half his chest. He hooked the bracelet from my hand with a smile, wagging his index finger, “Little girl, are you lost?” Me: “…” “Psycho.” I cursed, trying to grab it back, but got pulled into the room instead. Julian leaned down, asking lazily: “Why are you selling off your belongings? Planning to make a run for it?” I paused, gritting my teeth: “None of your business.” He showed no sign of anger from the slap I gave him earlier tonight, still wearing a smiling face. He even proactively explained, “This bracelet is a limited edition. A friend of mine has wanted it for a long time. You sold it too cheap.” “A friend? More like a lover.” I sneered, having him completely figured out. Julian raised an eyebrow, not denying it. He slowly pinched my chin. “What should we do, Maya? You delivered yourself right to my door.” I turned my face away, my voice turning cold, “If I’m not back in my room in half an hour, the hotel robot will call the police.” Julian let go regretfully, “Oh, half an hour really isn’t enough.” I couldn’t stand it anymore: “Can you stop acting like you’re so great? You’re actually terrible in bed. Aren’t you supposed to be a playboy? To be as bad as you are, you really have nothing going for you except your face!” Although his face was indeed incredibly stunning. The room fell silent. Julian was quiet for a moment, his tone sounding a bit hurt: “Really?” I answered stiffly: “Really.” “So who is good in bed?” he threw out the question the next second. Me: “…You’re the worst.” Silence again. “Hearing you say that really hurts me.” Julian sighed softly, grabbing my hand and pressing it against his chest. “My heart is crying.” Even though I had heard these kinds of cloying words many times before, they still made my teeth ache. Despite his chest feeling quite nice, I silently pulled my hand back. “So, what’s the market price for that bracelet?” “Around eighty or ninety thousand.” Julian smirked slightly. I took out my phone and updated the price online. After modifying it, I waved it in front of him. “Pay up, pretty boy.” After personally confirming Julian’s payment and receipt of goods, I pushed the door open. “Pleasure doing business with you. Goodbye, pretty boy.” The next second, I was locked in a staring contest with Liam, who was standing right outside my door. Julian even had the nerve to lean half his body out, his voice dripping with sweetness: “Make sure you dream of me tonight, Maya. I hope the me in your dreams gives you a better experience.” Me: “…” Liam: “?” I awkwardly covered my face, “Haha, what a coincidence, hahaha.” After saying that, I sprinted toward the door of my own room. I was grabbed by the back of the neck by Liam. He pulled me back with a dangerous smirk, “Care to explain?” I couldn’t help but recall the miserable fate in the original plot after being caught two-timing. I involuntarily shrank back a little. I turned around. Julian, whose bathrobe seemed to be tied even looser now, leaned against the wall like he had no bones. Seeing me look over, he even waved, “Hi, we meet again, babe.” Liam’s face grew even darker. His almond eyes narrowed slightly as he cursed at Julian without holding back: “Stop acting like a f***ing slut every day.” Julian feigned innocence: “You can’t just get mad because my charm is greater than yours.” Liam sneered, “Are those illegitimate kids of your dad’s not keeping you busy enough? You have the free time to harass people here?” Julian lifted his eyelids, meeting Liam’s gaze. “Don’t end up losing out on the company shares,” Liam lifted his eyes carelessly, “and not even having enough money to buy a girl dinner.” Liam was pretty crazy. As far as I knew, many of the rich heirs were afraid of him, afraid that if he went crazy, he’d do things that hurt others a thousand times over, even if it cost him a hundred. Julian wore a smile on his lips, but his amber eyes turned flat, looking over without any emotional fluctuation. Liam pulled me into the room and closed the door. He scanned me up and down: “He didn’t do anything to you, did he?” I scratched my head: “No.” Liam clicked his tongue, “Stay away from him. That guy is trouble.” I nodded: “Okay.” I added: “Then can you stay away from Chloe in the future?” Liam raised his eyelids, “What do you mean?” Perhaps it was the lingering resentment from the original plot, or perhaps it was my annoyance at Liam thinking he controlled all our relationships. I said lightly: “She doesn’t like you anyway. Why humiliate yourself?” And in the process, dragging others down as collateral damage. He treated me as a plaything to be summoned and dismissed at will, but his feelings for Chloe weren’t exactly pure and flawless either. Liam’s thin lips pressed together, his dark eyes fixed intensely on my face. This was a precursor to him losing his temper. After all, the sister he loved was calling other men to sleep with her tonight, and he could only buzz around like a headless fly. It’s understandable. Liam pinched my cheek, his voice slightly cold: “Julian looked at you a few more times, and your mind is wandering? Or did Cole calling you ‘Ms. Price’ tonight really make you think you’re someone important?” Seeing me stay silent, Liam increased the pressure on his hand. He smirked coldly and sarcastically, “Including Ezra showing up at your door, that was my sister telling him to go find her, and he got the wrong floor.” Liam callously told me: I was just a clown who thought too highly of myself and took myself too seriously among those arrogant heirs. I really didn’t. I smiled calmly. Whether in my past life or in the original plot, the only place I took myself seriously was with Liam. And paradoxically, it was where I mattered the least. Just as I took a deep breath, about to throw Liam back outside. There was a knock on the door. A voice as clear as a mountain spring, not very loud through the thick door, drifted in: “Open the door, Maya.” The heir who was supposedly called away had returned to stand outside my door. The message I received on my phone saying [Open the door], it turned out it wasn’t sent to the wrong person. Realizing this, I opened my eyes wide in bewilderment. After a long silence, there were two more rhythmic knocks on the door, neither rushed nor impatient. The person knocking was extremely patient. The temperature around the man beside me plummeted almost to the freezing point. Liam pulled the door open, shattering the illusion I was trying to maintain that I wasn’t there. The next second, Liam grabbed Ezra’s collar, emphasizing every word: “Do you know whose door you’re knocking on?” Ezra’s face was calm: “I know, Maya.” He seriously spoke my name. “Why aren’t you at my sister’s?” Liam demanded. Ezra frowned, “I came looking for Maya, from the very beginning.” “Who told you to come?!” Liam roared, the veins on his temples bulging. “Do you know who she belongs to?” I spoke before Ezra could: “I told him to come. I’m the one who told him to come. Stop acting crazy, Liam.” I paused, slowly starting to smile. “You act like you don’t know me in front of your adopted sister, and now what right do you have to be here interrogating someone else?” Liam smirked fiercely, his eyes full of icy intent: “What right? The fact that the clothes on your back were bought by me. What, do you want to take them off?” I looked at him quietly for two seconds, my hand moving to the zipper on the side of my dress. “That’s enough.” Ezra pressed his hand over mine, using his other hand to make a phone call: “Send a few sets of clothes up.” This hotel was owned by the Vance Group. No wonder Ezra knew my room number; he never went to the wrong floor from the start. 4 A sharp punch landed precisely on Ezra’s pale face. Although Ezra spoke little, he wasn’t the type to just take a beating. The dull thud of bone hitting bone made me stumble backward. The two fought fiercely. Even a passing robot concierge was kicked aside, falling crookedly to the side, beeping pitifully in its robotic voice. Until I had nowhere left to retreat, my shoulder pressed against a man’s hard chest. A faint floral scent surrounded me as the man loosely pulled me into his embrace. As expected, Julian never missed a good show. The commotion had drawn him out. Julian at this moment seemed much more normal. I instinctively grabbed his arm. “Why are they fighting?” Julian chuckled lightly, “Because of you, Maya?” His voice trailed off like a little feather, very seductive. I didn’t speak. It was probably because of Chloe. I didn’t want to flatter myself again. Julian continued talking as if to himself: “If they keep fighting, it won’t end until one of them is crippled today.” My fingertips trembled slightly, and I reached for my phone to call the police. Julian’s long fingers covered my phone. “If this ends up at the police station, they won’t let you off easily.” The Sterling family and the Vance family. Regardless of whether these two heirs were fighting over me or Chloe, if the two families pursued the matter, I would be the only one to suffer. My lips moved, and I managed to squeeze out: “…Make them stop.” The two guys really looked like they wouldn’t stop until they beat each other to death right here. Hotel staff and security were already gathered around, but without Ezra’s order, they didn’t dare to make a move. Julian lowered his face with a smile, “Alright, kiss me, and it’s a deal.” I gritted my teeth, just about to lean in. His index finger gently pressed against my lips, “If it’s something that makes you uncomfortable, forget it.” The next moment, he stepped forward with his long legs. This time Julian wasn’t wearing a bathrobe. He had changed into a loosely fitted satin shirt, looking very much the part of a wealthy aristocrat. He leisurely took out his phone and aimed it at the two fighting. Me: “…” Julian’s magnetic voice provided commentary for this scene: “As everyone can see, the two mad dogs currently losing their minds are from the Sterling family—” Liam’s next punch immediately changed direction, smashing hard into Julian’s face. Ezra stepped back a few paces, calmly turned around, took a few bags of clothes from the hotel staff, and handed them to me. His voice was slightly hoarse, but still sincere: “If you don’t like them, I’ll take you to buy more.” I took them silently. Julian, who was standing beside me, wiped the blood from his mouth, lowered his eyes, and sneered, “Come again.” Julian diverted the fire but had absolutely no intention of fighting back. Liam completely disdained a one-sided beating. The situation at the scene temporarily calmed down. I turned and pushed open the room door. Liam pulled out a cigarette box. Ezra: “She doesn’t like the smell of smoke.” Liam’s fingers twitched. A box of cigarettes was crushed under his hand, falling onto the hallway carpet. Until the door closed completely tight. Liam straightened up slightly, lifting his eyes mockingly to scan the two people beside him: “Pardon me for asking, but when did you two develop a habit of poaching?” Liam’s face was quite bruised, but his tone had fewer fluctuations than before. This meant he was already mad with anger. Ezra didn’t speak. Julian slowly unbuttoned the top two buttons of his shirt, “Hurry up and go be a good little dog for your sister. Stop barking here.” “Who wants him to be a dog?” A woman’s crisp, pleasant voice rang out, echoing in the wide hallway. Chloe’s long, wavy hair rested on her shoulders, swaying slightly as she approached, a half-smile on her face. Liam’s face changed instantly. After a long while, his lips barely moved: “…Sis.” The man who arrived with Chloe wore a polite smile. He had gold-rimmed glasses resting on his high nose bridge. Although he looked gentle, he subtly exuded an oppressive aura. Cole calmly scanned everyone present: “Why is everyone gathered here?” The atmosphere eased a bit, and the staff finally went to set the fallen robot upright. The robot chimed: “This is a public place, this is a public place! No fighting, fighting is not allowed!” “…” “What fight?” Chloe raised an eyebrow. “Nothing.” Liam spoke before anyone else could, with a hidden warning: “Looks like this robot needs to be replaced, otherwise we’ll get customer complaints. Don’t you think, Ezra?” Ezra glanced at him, not taking the bait. Julian chuckled. Cole smiled: “Where is Ms. Price?”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “406283”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

Holt told me not to come to his family dinner. His reason: “You spend all day in the morgue. You reek. My mom can’t stand it.” I’d already taken vacation days and booked my flight. I was planning to travel alone and clear my head. But then he took Priscilla Quinn instead. Priscilla was a socialite from a prominent family who spoke eight languages. Standing next to Holt, she looked like she belonged there. Photos from the family dinner were all over social media that night. Someone tagged me in the comments: “Fiona Harvey, did you see this?” I saw it. I canceled my plane ticket and booked a cruise instead. The night Holt came home, I was packing. He stood in the doorway with a rare hint of guilt. “Where are you going?” “Home.” “Your home is right here—” “No. It’s not.” I zipped up my suitcase and walked past him without stopping. He didn’t know my father was the biggest creditor of his Holt Corporation in Southeast Asia. “Fiona Harvey, how long are you going to play this hard-to-get game?” Holt kicked my suitcase aside, his eyes full of impatience. “Canceling your flight and booking a cruise instead—you think changing your travel plans will make me beg you to stay?” I stopped and looked at his self-righteous face. “I told you. I’m going home.” “Your home is here.” “No,” I said, looking him in the eye. “Let go.” He hadn’t expected me to look at him that way. No pleading. No hysterical questioning. Just the cold indifference you’d give trash. For a moment, he seemed uncertain, but his male ego quickly covered it up. He sneered and yanked my passport from my bag. “You’re an orphan. Where else do you have to go except here?” I looked at my empty hand. I didn’t scream. I didn’t try to grab it back. “Give me my passport.” “When you learn to be reasonable, I’ll give it back.” He tossed the passport into the highest drawer of the entryway cabinet and deliberately locked it. “I brought Priscilla to the family dinner because her father can help Holt Corporation secure overseas channels in Europe.” “You’re a coroner who spends all day with corpses. What can you do for me besides cutting up bodies?” “I was putting on a performance for business. My feelings for you haven’t changed. Why do you have to make a scene right now?” I looked at the man I’d loved for seven years and suddenly found his face repulsive beyond measure. “A performance? So you brought another woman to meet your family and let her act like the future Mrs. Holt?” “Holt, do you think I have no self-respect? That you can trample on me however you want?” Holt frowned, as if I were being completely unreasonable. “That formaldehyde smell on you gives my mom headaches. I told you not to come to protect you from being hurt.” Just then, the doorbell rang. Priscilla stood outside in a haute couture dress, smiling. “Holt, is Fiona mad at me?” She walked in and naturally hooked her arm through Holt’s. “I just thought the terrace in this apartment has a great view. I wanted to borrow it for a birthday party. Why is Fiona talking about running away from home?” I watched them coldly. This penthouse in the city center—I’d bought it with my own money, paid in full. Holt’s name wasn’t even on the deed. Every piece of furniture, every plant—I’d arranged them myself. And now he’d agreed to lend my house to his mistress for a party without even asking me? The comments scrolled across the screen: [This guy is unbelievable. Taking his girlfriend’s apartment and lending it to his mistress?] [Complains about the morgue smell, but his own heart smells worse. Fiona, don’t hold back. Crush him with your money. The Harvey heiress doesn’t have to take this.] “She’s just petty. She’s never seen the world.” Holt patted Priscilla’s hand, his tone gentle. “It’s just an apartment. You’re an honored guest of the Holt family. Use it however you want.” He turned to me, his eyes instantly cold. “Fiona, Priscilla is from a prestigious family. She’s doing you a favor by using your place.” “Be gracious. Don’t make me think you’re being ridiculous.” I stared at their intertwined arms. “Fine. She can use the house.” My tone was calm. Holt paused, seemingly surprised by my compliance. “Good. At least you know what’s good for you.” “But if anything gets damaged, she pays for it at full price.” I locked eyes with Priscilla. Priscilla covered her mouth and laughed. “Fiona, you’re so funny. These little things? I don’t even care about them.” “Good.” I turned to grab my backup bag and head out. “What are you doing now?” Holt stepped in front of me, blocking my way. “Since you’re using the house for your party, I’m in the way. I’ll stay at a hotel.” “Fiona Harvey, I’m warning you. Know when to stop.” He lowered his voice, his tone patronizing. “I canceled business tonight to come home and spend time with you. Don’t be ungrateful.” I walked around him and headed straight for the door. “If you walk out that door today, don’t ever think about coming back to the Holt family.” “Perfect.”

“You really think I can’t live without you?” Holt’s voice came from behind me, laced with wounded pride. I didn’t turn around. I pulled open the door. Just then, a mud-covered stray dog suddenly burst in from the hallway and lunged straight at Holt. Muddy water splattered all over his custom-tailored suit pants. I stopped and waited to watch him explode. Holt had severe OCD. In the past, even after I’d showered three times at work and changed into completely fresh clothes, if he detected even the faintest trace of disinfectant on me, he’d wrinkle his nose and tell me to stay away. Once, after I’d worked on a highly decomposed body, I came home and just wanted a hug. He shoved me away and spent two hours washing his hands in disgust. But now, looking at the mud on his pants, he only frowned for a second. “Oh, I’m so sorry, Holt. I just found this puppy downstairs. He’s so naughty.” Priscilla quickly crouched down and pulled out tissues to wipe the mud. Holt actually smiled. Not only did he not get angry, he reached out and petted the filthy dog’s head. “It’s fine. It’s sweet that you care about animals, Priscilla. It’s just a suit.” He even took her hand—the one holding the tissue—and their eyes met with warmth. I stood in the doorway watching this cozy “family of three” scene, and a wave of nausea hit my stomach. So he never had OCD at all. He simply found me disgusting. He despised me. He looked down on my profession and my identity from the bottom of his heart. The comments scrolled across the screen: [What a hypocrite. His OCD was fake. He just never loved her.] [Look how easily he touches that dog. Makes me sick.] [Fiona’s eyes are so cold. She’s completely done with him.] “Fiona, you don’t mind if I keep the puppy here, do you?” Priscilla held the dog and looked at me innocently. “Do whatever you want.” I pulled my suitcase toward the exit, but Holt grabbed my wrist. “There’s a limit to throwing tantrums. Stay and have dinner.” Without giving me a choice, he dragged me back to the dining room and pushed me into a chair. The table was covered with high-end restaurant delivery—all seafood that Priscilla loved. Holt put on disposable gloves and expertly began peeling a shrimp. He placed the peeled shrimp meat into Priscilla’s bowl, his tone indulgent. “Your hands are too delicate. Don’t let the shells cut you.” I watched his smooth, practiced movements. Two years ago, I’d accidentally cut my right hand while slicing fruit. I needed three stitches. That night at dinner, I asked him to peel a shrimp for me. He slammed down his knife and fork, his face full of irritation. “You handle scalpels all day and you can’t even peel a shrimp?” “Fiona Harvey, could you be any more melodramatic?” Now, he was willingly peeling an entire plate of shrimp for another woman. “Fiona, why aren’t you eating?” Priscilla munched on shrimp and smiled at me. “Is the food not to your taste? I guess when you see so much stuff at work, it’s hard to have an appetite.” Holt didn’t even look up, still peeling crab. “That’s just how lifeless she is. Ignore her.” I put down my fork and stood up. “Have you had enough fun watching?” Holt glanced at me coldly. “If you’re done, clean up the table.”

“Holt gave me this necklace. You don’t mind, do you, Fiona?” Priscilla deliberately swept her hair aside, revealing an antique emerald necklace around her neck. I’d just thrown the takeout boxes in the trash. When I turned and saw that necklace, blood rushed to my head. That was a family heirloom from the Harvey family. It was the last thing my mother left me before she died. I’d always kept it locked in my bedroom safe. I never even wore it. “Take it off.” I walked up to Priscilla, my voice ice-cold. “Fiona, why are you being so mean?” Priscilla shrank behind Holt. “Holt said the necklace was just gathering dust in the safe anyway. It looks better on me.” Holt shielded Priscilla and frowned at me. “Fiona Harvey, enough. You’re just jealous of Priscilla. It’s just a necklace and you’re making a scene?” “I’ll buy you ten tomorrow. Pick whichever you want.” I looked at his self-righteous face and suddenly felt like the past seven years had been an absurd joke. “Holt, that’s my mother’s keepsake.” “What right did you have to open my safe?” Holt’s eyes flickered, but he quickly regained his superior attitude. “What’s yours is mine. Why are we drawing such clear lines?” “Besides, Priscilla is coming with me to Holt Corporation’s gala tonight. She needs a statement piece.” “You work behind the scenes. You’d be wasting it anyway.” The comments scrolled across the screen: [Giving away a family heirloom to his mistress? Is he missing part of his brain?] [This is theft. Just call the police. Fiona is too calm. It’s the calm before the storm.] “I’ll say this one last time. Take it off.” I stepped forward and reached for the clasp. Holt shoved me away hard enough that I crashed into the corner of the dining table. Sharp pain shot through my lower back. “Fiona Harvey, don’t push your luck.” Holt looked down at me, his eyes full of disgust. “Priscilla wearing your things is an honor for you.” “If you keep acting crazy, even I won’t want you anymore.” Priscilla hid behind him, a smug smile on her lips. “Holt, forget it. Maybe Fiona really can’t bear to part with it. I’ll give it back.” She pretended to unclasp the necklace. Holt pressed her hand down. “Keep it on. Let’s see who dares to touch it today.” He stared at me coldly. “Fiona Harvey, I don’t have time for your tantrum tonight. Stay home and think about what you did. When you’re ready to apologize, then you can call me.” With that, he pulled Priscilla out the door. The door slammed shut. I steadied myself against the table and slowly straightened up. The pain in my back made me more clearheaded. I didn’t cry. I didn’t smash anything. I walked into the bedroom and opened the safe that had been pried open. Inside, besides the necklace, was a debt settlement document for Holt Corporation. I pulled out my phone and dialed a number I hadn’t called in seven years. “Paxton, I need you to do something for me.” Paxton was the chief legal officer of my father’s company, Harvey Group. He was also my arranged fiancé since childhood. Years ago, for so-called “true love,” I’d hidden my identity, had a huge fight with my family, and even ran away from our wedding to work as a coroner here. Paxton had been searching for me for seven years. He’d been waiting for seven years. “Miss Harvey, you’ve finally contacted me. The chairman has been worried about you all these years…” Paxton’s voice trembled slightly. “Save the reunion talk for later.” I cut him off coldly, my eyes sharp as knives. “I need you to do something.” “Cut off all of Holt Corporation’s operating funds. Immediately.” The other end of the line went silent for a second, then Paxton’s low, pleased laughter came through. “As you wish, my fiancée.” “I’ll personally fly over with the legal team tomorrow. I guarantee within forty-eight hours, Holt will be on his knees at your feet.” I hung up and looked at myself in the mirror—the woman who’d humiliated herself for love for seven years. Holt, you asked for this.

At eight o’clock the next evening, Holt Corporation held its annual appreciation gala. “Remove Fiona Harvey’s name from tonight’s guest list.” Holt stood at the hotel entrance, giving cold instructions to his assistant. I stood in the shadows not far away, hearing every word. “But Mr. Holt, Miss Harvey comes every year to help check the schedule…” The assistant hesitated. “I don’t need her tonight.” Holt cut him off impatiently. “Priscilla will attend as my date. If Fiona’s there, it’ll just make Priscilla uncomfortable.” “Tell security—if they see her, keep her outside.” I watched him turn and walk into the glittering hall. I didn’t even have the desire to confront him one last time. Afraid of making his mistress uncomfortable, so he’s keeping his actual girlfriend locked out? “Tell Holt,” I said, looking the assistant in the eye, word by word. “He’ll pay a price he can’t afford for today’s decision.” With that, I turned on my heels and walked away from the hotel without looking back. The screen began streaming live footage from inside the gala. Holt took Priscilla’s hand and walked into the spotlight. “Thank you all for coming. I’d like to take this opportunity to introduce the lady beside me.” He looked at Priscilla tenderly. “Miss Priscilla Quinn will be the future Mrs. Holt.” Thunderous applause filled the room. I stood in the cold wind, watching the perfect couple on the screen, and severed my last thread of attachment. I turned toward a black Bentley parked by the curb. Paxton opened the door and respectfully handed me a file. “Miss Harvey, the yacht is ready. We can leave anytime.” “Let’s go. To the harbor.” Halfway through the gala, Holt suddenly felt an overwhelming sense of panic. He instinctively looked toward the corner but didn’t see that familiar figure. “Fiona didn’t come?” He grabbed his assistant. “Mr. Holt, you ordered us not to let her in. Security said she left half an hour ago.” “Where did she go?” “It seems… the harbor downtown.” Holt’s heart sank. Fiona was a coroner living on a government salary. She thought taxis were too expensive. Where would she get money for a Bentley? He suddenly remembered what I’d said last night—that I’d canceled my flight and booked a cruise, that I was going to the marina. That resolute look in my eyes when I said “perfect” flashed through his mind again. Was she really leaving him for good? He shoved aside Priscilla, who was toasting guests, and ran out of the hotel like a madman. The comments scrolled across the screen: [Here it comes. The yacht.] [Run faster, Holt. You’re racing to your own funeral.] [Finally, the satisfying part. Can’t wait to see Mr. Holt on his knees.] The sea wind howled. Holt ran to the dock, gasping for breath, searching frantically for me. “Fiona.” Then he saw me standing on the deck of a yacht with the Harvey family crest, looking down at him from above. Holt froze in place, disbelief written all over his face. Beside me stood an imposing middle-aged man. My father. The chairman of Harvey Group. “Mr. Holt, our family’s IOU—Holt Corporation hasn’t paid it back yet, have you?”

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In the fourth year of being locked in a psychiatric hospital by my husband, Emberfang Pack Alpha Airs, I finally learned to be compliant. He came to pick me up with his pregnant mistress, Vivian. I naturally took the bag from the mistress’s hand and considerately opened the car door. “From now on, you’ll take care of Vivian. She and the baby are your family.” I nodded obediently. After he drove my parents to their deaths, he found me two new family members. After returning home, I woke up at five every morning to research pregnancy meal plans. At eight o’clock sharp, I’d wake Vivian and accompany her to prenatal yoga classes. At ten, I’d prepare snacks and listen to her and her girlfriends praise me for being such a thoughtful, useful dog. Day after day, until Vivian gave birth to Jack. The day they put up the new family portrait, Airs stared at the intimate trio in the photo, his voice trembling. “Sera, why didn’t you insist on being in the picture with us?” Insist? But in the psychiatric hospital, I’d only learned how to be obedient—and how to drive sane people insane. Hearing Airs’s words clearly, I calmly wrung out the cloth in my hand. “Airs, I don’t like taking photos.” He frowned, his gaze burning into me as if trying to determine whether my words were true or false. I quietly wiped the dust off the family portrait, adjusting the frame’s position bit by bit until it was perfect. Vivian stood on the stairs, a flash of triumph in her eyes. She threw herself into Airs’s arms and stood on her toes to kiss his lips. “You’re back! I tried putting the baby to sleep by myself today, and I actually succeeded.” Airs instinctively looked at me. I nodded, my lips curving upward with genuine praise. “Vivian really is amazing—she put Jack to sleep so easily.” Airs’s frown deepened. Unfortunately, I had no time to play guessing games with him—I still had a nourishing soup simmering on the stove for Vivian. I hurried into the kitchen, put on heat-resistant gloves, and carefully carried out the soup. Vivian sat at the dining table, her smooth legs brushing suggestively against Airs’s lower body. Airs smiled indulgently, but that smile vanished the moment he saw me. I carefully ladled the soup into Vivian’s bowl and thoughtfully let it cool. Vivian smiled gently at me. “Sera, you should sit down and eat too.” Airs proactively pulled out a chair and nodded softly. “Taking care of the baby must be tiring. You should rest.” I lowered my eyes and smiled, declining. “It’s my honor to help Vivian take care of Jack. I’m not tired at all.” Vivian’s lips curled with satisfaction as she clung to Airs’s arm and acted coquettish. “Sera really knows how to take care of people. Remember to give her extra pay, okay?” I stood obediently by the dining table, remembering the last time Vivian saw Airs holding my hand and deliberately said the soup was too salty. She’d thrown me to the edge of the pack’s territory, deliberately letting wandering Rogues attack me. In the end, my whole body was covered in wounds, and I dragged my injured leg slowly back home. The first day back, Vivian ordered me to wash Jack’s diapers. I understood she was warning me. Airs wasn’t someone I could seduce or approach. After dinner, Vivian pushed the leftover scraps from the soup tureen toward me. I didn’t understand her meaning and, as usual, dumped the scraps into the trash can. Vivian suddenly cried out loudly. “Sera, if you don’t like it, you can tell me!” “I know you haven’t felt well since those Rogues attacked you, so I specially saved the rare herbs from the soup for you.” “Those are premium medicinal herbs—how could you waste them?” Airs looked over while holding Jack, his brow slightly furrowed. I hurriedly bent down in panic, picked the dirty, rare herbs from the trash can, and shoved them into my mouth without hesitation. “Vivian, thank you for your generosity.” Airs rushed over with concern in his eyes, forgetting about Jack in his arms as he extended his hand toward my mouth. “Spit it out now.”

Acid churned in my stomach. I struggled to suppress the overwhelming urge to vomit, swallowed everything down, and smiled gratefully at Vivian. Airs’s pupils constricted as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. After all, the old me had severe mysophobia. If someone else touched something, I wouldn’t want it anymore. So when I discovered Airs was cheating with Vivian, I didn’t hesitate to propose breaking the mate bond. But he refused to let go. So I went to my father for help. My father was the Alpha of Silver Moon Pack, and when he learned about Airs’s infidelity, he immediately pressured Airs to break the mate bond with me. Airs secretly allied with a group of Rogues, ambushed Silver Moon Pack, and brutally murdered my parents. In the end, he absorbed Silver Moon Pack’s power and resources. My parents were hastily buried, and the very next day, Airs brought Vivian into our home. I was filled with hatred and grabbed a knife, wanting to kill that pair of cheating dogs. After accidentally tearing out a few strands of Vivian’s hair, Airs bribed a doctor to give me a psychiatric certification. He sent me to a psychiatric hospital to be broken down until I learned to be obedient. And he and Vivian shamelessly enjoyed the power and resources my parents had accumulated over their lifetimes. My fingers trembled violently as I took Jack, who was crying so hard he couldn’t breathe. “Don’t cry, don’t cry… Jack, don’t cry…” The gentle soothing worked. The child, tired from crying, fell into a deep sleep in my arms. Airs looked at me, wanting to say something but holding back. I avoided his gaze and carried Jack back to the nursery. A sliver of light shone through the crack in the door. Vivian laughed coquettishly while swirling her wine glass, disdainfully tossing me a bottle of witch-crafted potion. “Eating things from the trash can is too dirty.” “Sera, you need to maintain hygiene, or I won’t dare use you.” I picked up the cleaning potion bottle by my feet and bowed in gratitude. “Thank you, Vivian.” Vivian showed no intention of leaving. Instead, she smiled at me expectantly. I nodded in understanding, turned and went into the maid’s room, poured all the cleaning potion into the bathtub, and filled it with water. I shamelessly stripped off all my clothes and got into the bathtub, scrubbing myself viciously with a steel wool pad. The steel wool and cleaning potion must have been mixed with a witch’s special concoction—the moment they touched my skin, the pain was excruciating. The potion seeped into my skin, and I bit through the flesh in my mouth to avoid letting out a single cry of pain. My whole body felt like countless bees were stinging me, countless fine needles piercing me. Eventually, my skin was scraped bloody, and the entire bathtub became a terrifying fusion of blood and water. Only when I was in such pain I was about to pass out did Vivian mercifully speak. “Once you’re clean, put on your clothes. I’m taking you somewhere.” I had no time to treat my bleeding wounds and hastily threw on clothes to follow Vivian. Airs leaned against the stairs smoking, frowning. Seeing me, he instinctively stubbed out his cigarette. “Don’t eat things from the trash can anymore.” “Sera, as long as you’re obedient, no one will punish you.” Before we established our relationship, Airs relied on smoking to relieve stress when he was troubled. After we started dating, I made it clear I didn’t like the smell of smoke. Within half a month, Airs quit smoking and used the money he would have spent on cigarettes to buy me bouquet after bouquet of roses. After marriage, the flowers in the bedroom never stopped. He even personally opened up a flower bed in the yard. “Whatever you like, I’ll plant it all for you.” Vivian stood in the living room jingling keys, her crisp voice pulling me back from my memories. A flash of impatience showed in her eyes. “Sera, it’s time to go.” I nodded politely at Airs, signaling him to move aside. His frown deepened as he gripped my wrist hard. “Sera, you weren’t like this before.”

Before? That was when I chose to be a full-time housewife after marriage, supporting him wholeheartedly. Every day, I’d wait at the door to greet him, cook for him, with three different meals each day. At night, I’d smile innocently while we made love, acting coquettish at every opportunity. But unfortunately, there was no going back. Vivian clicked up the stairs in her high heels. Before Airs could pull me into his arms, she wrapped herself around his arm. “Airs, why don’t you just drive us there?” He nodded, and I consciously gave up the passenger seat. As the scenery outside the window changed, my heart suddenly tightened. This road… it led to the cemetery? Before the car had fully stopped, I hurriedly opened the door and rushed out. The tightly packed tombstones that used to be there had disappeared, replaced by crops covering the ground. Workers in the distance were watering with hoses. I stumbled forward, my throat hoarse and swollen with pain. “Excuse me, wasn’t this a cemetery?” “Why does it look like this now? Where were the people who were buried here moved to?” The man frowned in confusion, then his brow smoothed as he pointed to a small hill in the distance. “This used to be a cemetery, but Alpha Airs surveyed the land and found it had good soil quality, so he used it to grow rare medicinal herbs.” A girl weeding nearby looked up, her eyes full of envy. “That’s right. I heard it’s because Vivian’s health isn’t good, so Alpha Airs did this.” In the distance, Airs guiltily looked away. Vivian’s eyes crinkled with a smile as she kindly reminded me. “Don’t worry, I was afraid you wouldn’t be able to find your parents’ ashes, so I specifically had someone put them on top of the mountain.” My mind went completely blank, my legs heavy as lead. I ran up the mountain without looking back. But somehow it had started to pour. The raindrops hit my body painfully. I collapsed to my knees in the mud, powerless. Shattered stone tablets covered the entire mountain—I couldn’t make out any of the blurred names. Out of the corner of my eye, I suddenly glimpsed a character. I frantically clawed at the sharp broken stones. Excruciating pain shot through all ten fingers, and every wound on my body burst open. The bone-deep pain spread through my entire body. I cried until my voice was hoarse, my eyes blurred. I’m sorry… I’m so sorry, Mom and Dad… It’s all my fault, all because I misjudged people… The rain grew heavier, and thick fog rose in the mountains. Airs’s worried voice came from behind me. “Sera, where are you?” Vivian found me first, unable to hide the venom in her eyes. Her sharp nails dug into my wounds as she viciously grabbed my throat and shook me. “Sera, why the hell did you come back?” “If you just died, Airs would mark me, make me the new Luna, and I’d be all he sees, all he thinks about!” I couldn’t breathe as Vivian dragged me like a dead dog to the edge of a slope. Suddenly, I saw Airs. He hadn’t seen me yet—he was still calling my name while anxiously searching for me. In my field of vision, Airs drew closer and closer. Vivian leaned close to my ear and whispered provocatively. “Sera, guess who he’ll choose this time?” Before I could react, Vivian held me tight and rolled down the slope. She pinned me down, flipping over to use me as a human cushion as we landed. The countless wounds the witch’s potion had created instantly burst open and bled again, agonizing pain spreading throughout my entire body. The taste of blood surged into my throat. As my consciousness grew hazy, I saw Airs tenderly gather Vivian into his arms. He gently wiped the dirt from her body as if caring for a child. Just like before, when the Rogues attacked, he still chose Vivian without hesitation. And I was forgotten by him, besieged by Rogues, nearly crippled.

Tears mixed with rain rolled down my face, my voice broken and hoarse. “It hurts… it hurts so much…” Airs’s gaze finally fell on me. He took half a step forward, but Vivian sweetly fainted in his arms, hooking his pinky finger and frowning in discomfort. “Airs, my calf hurts so much…” Crystalline tears fell onto the back of his hand. Airs immediately withdrew his gaze. Even though he knew werewolves healed quickly, he still panicked and picked up Vivian. “Sera, hang in there. I’ll take you to the hospital right away.” Watching the man’s heartless departing figure, I clutched the fragment of tombstone tightly in my palm. As my consciousness faded, Mom and Dad affectionately stroked my head. “Sera, you’ve done so well.” And I cried my heart out. “Mom, Dad, I will avenge you…” When I woke up again, I saw a clean white ceiling. Airs sat by the hospital bed, his chin covered in messy stubble, large dark circles under his eyes. Seeing me open my eyes, he joyfully gripped my hand. “Sera, does it hurt?” I endured the pain and pulled out the IV needle from the back of my hand, forcing myself to get up and kneel at Airs’s feet. “I’m sorry, Airs. I didn’t take good care of my body.” “I can be discharged now and go home. Vivian and Jack both need me.” Airs tenderly touched my burst and bleeding wounds, his fingers trembling continuously. He reached out in anguish, and I instinctively covered my head with my arms. “Sera, how did you become like this?” I lowered my eyes without speaking. The hospital room fell into an eerie silence. It was Airs’s urgent phone ringtone that finally broke the deadlock. Through the speakerphone came Vivian’s pitiful crying, accompanied by a baby’s piercing wails. “Airs, Jack won’t stop crying.” “I haven’t had a good night’s sleep in days. Can you please have Sera come back to help me?” Before Airs could answer, I’d already removed my hospital gown. The scars covering my entire body were exposed to Airs’s view. Something seemed to burn his eyes red. The phone was abruptly hung up. Airs’s voice was terrifyingly hoarse. “Sera, what happened to cause all these injuries?” I quietly changed into regular clothes and gestured for him to handle my discharge. “Airs, my duty is to take good care of Vivian and Jack. Please take me home.” Airs’s shoulders shook violently as he lost control, cupping my face and roaring. “Sera, what the hell did those people at the psychiatric hospital do to you?” I responded with a polite smile. “Airs, they only followed your instructions—teaching me how to properly serve Vivian and Jack.” I watched as all color drained from Airs’s face, his lips trembling uncontrollably. “But I just wanted you to be a little more obedient.” “I didn’t…” The phone rang again. I urged Airs to go home. At the same time, the doctor outside the door secretly made a gesture to me.

Back at the villa, Vivian threw herself into Airs’s arms with tear-filled eyes. I took the crying Jack and gently patted his back. “Don’t cry, don’t cry… Jack, don’t cry…” The gentle soothing was effective. The child, tired from crying, gradually quieted down. Airs looked at me, wanting to speak but hesitating. Vivian immediately sensed something was wrong and signaled me to return to the maid’s room. Without her command, I wasn’t allowed to leave that cramped room at will. At night, suppressed panting came from next door. “Airs, did you miss me?” “My body says it misses you so much, wants you so much…” Airs seemed to deliberately suppress his ragged breathing, not wanting others to know. But Vivian only got louder, as if she wanted the whole world to know. And because Airs stubbornly refused to break the mate bond with me, whenever he had sex with Vivian, I could feel immense pain both physically and mentally. It had been like this for years, every single time. After a long while, the sounds from next door finally quieted down. I also finally got a moment’s respite from the tremendous pain. Before they’d started, I’d already given Jack sleeping medicine. Now, I quietly opened the window, letting the wind blow away the remaining sleeping powder. My phone suddenly lit up. A new message popped up in the notification bar. “The ladder’s set up. Hurry and come down with Jack.” I picked up the sleeping Jack and pried out the USB drive hidden under the floor of the bed. Under cover of the thick night, I got into the person’s passenger seat and headed straight for the airport. The next morning, Airs waited at the dining table for over half an hour but Sera never came. He assumed Sera hadn’t recovered well and needed more time to rest. Or rather, after Vivian’s passionate display last night, Sera was jealous. When this thought surfaced in his mind, Airs unconsciously curved his lips into a smile. Sera had been very obedient lately and could accept him having someone else by his side. She wouldn’t make a fuss like before—whenever she caught an unfamiliar scent on him, she’d insist on sleeping in separate rooms or threaten to leave. So Airs specially bought Sera a bouquet of her favorite roses. He even had his assistant book the newly opened couples’ restaurant. Actually, Sera loved taking photos. When they’d first gotten together, Sera would pull out her phone wherever she went, saying she wanted to record every beautiful moment. Her refusal to take the family portrait with him was just her being petulant. Waiting for him to coax her. Airs sent Sera a message. “Sera, I’m waiting for you.” “Don’t let Vivian know—she’s such a jealous little thing.” But the person on the other end didn’t reply to his message. Even when he left to handle pack business, the chat window still showed only that one lonely sentence. Airs suddenly missed the Sera who used to share everything with him. When Sera saw cute little cakes, even though she was the one craving them, she’d still ask if he wanted to eat them. Then when they got home, the table would be covered with all kinds of adorable little cakes. If he so much as frowned, Sera would act coquettish and shake his arm. “Airs, you agreed to let me buy them. You’re the one who spoiled me.” Sweet moments flickered through his mind, but Airs’s heart only felt increasingly empty. Suddenly, his chest stabbed with pain. Airs felt like he’d lost something very important.

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My wife is very disciplined. She wakes up on time every day, eats on time, and goes to bed on time. She even demands that the number of times we have sex each month must be exact—no deviations allowed. When I’m exhausted and refuse her, she says with disgust: “If you can’t do it, there’s always a man who can!” Later, she found a fitness trainer and spread the word all over the community that being as disciplined as her leads to good health—unlike me, who can’t even meet the quota for sex. But when I held daughter Mary and let her be as “disciplined” as she wanted, she cried and said family was more important. I got home from overtime close to one in the morning. Someone in the elevator had brought back barbecue. It smelled amazing. When the guy noticed me looking, he winked at me and handed me the biggest oyster. Before I could react, he patted my shoulder with a grave expression. “Brother, you’re still young. Don’t lose heart!” When I pushed open the door, the chattering voices stopped instantly. Georgina had been right in the middle of her speech. “If you don’t exercise with discipline, you’ll end up like my husband sooner or later—not even enough energy for sex!” Like always, I changed my shoes and went into my room. I didn’t say a word the whole time, didn’t look at anyone. I just closed the door a little louder than usual. It took a while before voices resumed outside. Someone muttered, “Georgina, are we being a bit too much?” Someone complained, “But Lucas can’t even do it anymore. Are we not allowed to say anything…?” They knew I was angry and were giving Georgina attitude. Georgina knew too, but her voice carried impatience: “Don’t worry about him! Am I wrong? He hasn’t slept with me in days! If it weren’t for Mary, who’d want to be with him?” She was giving me the cold shoulder too and slammed the master bedroom door. But at midnight, she knocked on my door with an annoyed expression. “I can’t be bothered to argue with you. Help me apply the moisturizing cream!” I suppressed my anger and applied the ointment to her body. But my movements quickly froze. On her waist were several dark purple finger marks! But I hadn’t been intimate with her in days! I couldn’t help but apply more pressure. She let out a dissatisfied grunt. “Lucas, has overtime fried your brain? Even my trainer gives better massages than you!” “What about those marks on your waist?” I asked softly, not stopping my hands. “Is that what you think of me? Don’t project your own inadequacy onto me by accusing me of cheating!” She suddenly raised her voice, her shrill accusations pounding into my heart. I looked into her eyes, swallowed my words back down, but couldn’t hide the disappointment in my eyes. She turned around, saw the heavy dark circles under my eyes, and let out a heavy sigh. “Sorry. Even though you always make me angry and maliciously suspect me, I shouldn’t have yelled at you.” She handed me the remaining soup from the table. I never eat in the middle of the night—afraid of insomnia, worried it’ll affect work the next day. But since she offered it, I accepted. There were dark fingerprints on the rim of the bowl—long ones. A man’s. I felt something stuck in my throat, unable to go up or down. When I’m home, I rush to do all the housework. When I’m not, I call a housekeeper to cook. Funny thing is, this was the first time I’d tasted her soup. It was actually pretty good. I suddenly didn’t want to throw it away and drank it all in one go. “Remember to wash the dishes before you sleep~” Her voice turned coquettish again as she settled contentedly into the bed I’d warmed up. I silently cleaned up the dishes and lit up my phone screen. The page was still on a post from a disciplined lifestyle blogger thanking her trainer. “The hands that cooked have a little heart-shaped birthmark on the palm—hands I’ve kissed countless times.”

When I woke up the next day, it was already noon. Georgina had gone to exercise with her trainer Jordan early, leaving behind a thoughtful note. [Lucas, I turned off your alarm for you~ Rest well so you can be more disciplined and work hard to make money!] By the time I got to the company, I got chewed out by my team leader for being late and lost my perfect attendance bonus. Then the teacher called to say Mary had been bullied by her classmates! Mary was crying for daddy. I could hear her clearly even through the phone. My heart ached with each sob. But I really couldn’t get away from work, and it takes an hour to get from the company to the school. I had no choice but to call Georgina and ask her to pick up Mary and comfort her first. She just responded lazily after hearing me out: “I know.” I emphasized that Mary had been bullied. She said she’d definitely go as soon as possible. When I finished half my work, it was already six-thirty. The teacher had called me at five-thirty. When I called back, she told me to pay more attention to Mary, that she’d cried for a long time today, and that parents need to care more about their children. After hanging up, I saw a post notification from Georgina from three hours ago. She said she’d practiced continuously all afternoon, completely focused. But I’d already asked her to pick up Mary! My fist clenched as I gritted my teeth and looked at the next post. [The trainer was so thoughtful, preparing supplements for Mary and me! Mary got bullied today. Drink more—if you exercise with discipline, you won’t get bullied!] [I deliberately waited a few hours before picking her up, just to make her understand that disciplined physical exercise is what’s best for girls!] The photo showed Mary’s swollen eyes from crying, tear stains not even wiped clean. I slammed my fist on the desk corner and turned to leave! My team leader cursed at me. I shoved him aside! Screw this job—nothing is more important than Mary! This expensive supplement had launched three years ago and was reported by multiple parents for stunting children’s development! The parents jointly reported and sued. Soon after, they won the case and the supplement company left in disgrace. All the evidence was clear as day! Who knows where Jordan got such sketchy stuff! I forwarded it to Georgina, telling her not to be fooled! But she replied: [This is something Jordan specially imported from abroad. What could be wrong with it? You’re making a mountain out of a molehill!] [Besides, Mary got beaten up by her classmates today and cried. Don’t you think she’s useless? If she were disciplined and strong like me, would she still get bullied?] Mary quietly called me, saying she didn’t want to drink the medicine—it tasted really strange. She’d shared it with a classmate before, and the next day the classmate smashed it and accidentally scratched her! It must be bad medicine! But Mom insisted she drink it, saying this way she could beat up those classmates. Hearing Mary’s tearful voice, my heart felt like it was crashing into a wall. I ran a dozen red lights before reaching home in just over ten minutes. Several empty supplement bottles lay scattered on the table. Dragging sounds and Mary’s crying came from the room at the same time. “Mary, if it weren’t for your problems, would the teacher call and harass me so much? No ability but plenty of attitude—and you dare hide under the bed and play disappearing act!” “Mommy, don’t… wuwu…” I ran to the bedroom door and saw Jordan restraining Mary’s limbs while Georgina was prying Mary’s mouth open, trying to pour the supplement directly in! “Stop!” I shoved Georgina aside, held Mary tightly, and smashed the medicine bottle on the floor! Thank god, thank god… “Didn’t I tell you this stuff has side effects on children?” “I’ve been disciplined with Jordan for so long—would he lie to me? You’re the one fear-mongering, and you’ll ruin Mary’s whole life!” She revealed the table behind her, pointing at several already empty bottles! “Jordan is so good too—$888 supplements discounted to $200 per bottle for me! I’ve already given her so many. It’s all for her own good!” I suddenly felt ice-cold all over. Instinctively, I punched Jordan and ran downstairs carrying Mary! By the time Mary finished having her stomach pumped, an hour had passed. I coaxed her to sleep before I had time to check my phone. Georgina had called me countless times and sent countless messages. Telling me not to waste the supplements—they were expensive! I didn’t finish reading them. I just replied with one sentence. [I’ll have a lawyer draft divorce papers tomorrow. The child must go to me.]

Georgina didn’t reply to my message. But I saw her looking around at the front desk when I went to pay the bill. I hesitated. Maybe she was just too concerned about Mary… But I waited in the hospital room for a long time, and she never appeared. I looked at Mary’s pale face, not knowing how to tell her that Mommy and Daddy were separating. Georgina passed by the hospital room. Her expression seemed somewhat surprised. But after a long moment, she motioned for me to come out and talk. “Lucas, how old is Mary? She can’t be without a mother.” “You think I’m not good enough, but do you want Mary to walk the same path I did?” Her eyes brimmed with tears, her fingers clutching tightly at the hem of my shirt. Through her eyes, I suddenly saw her as a child. Her mother died, her father complained the nanny was useless but was too busy with work to care for her himself. Because she came from a single-parent home, she was isolated and bullied by classmates, but didn’t dare speak up. I helped her once, and she followed me around like a little tail ever since. Later, when I was delivering homework, I accidentally found her in anaphylactic shock. That’s how she got her life back. I’m busy with work and have no relatives to help. If Mary really got bullied or something happened to her at home… Just imagining that scene, I immediately lost my anger. Seeing my attitude soften, she dissolved the discipline group right in front of me. “I’ll never criticize you again, won’t check in with them anymore… I know I was wrong today… No divorce, okay?” “Lucas, Mary is very sensitive inside. If we divorce, she’ll definitely keep everything bottled up. Think more about Mary, okay?” She stepped forward, wrapped her arms around my neck, and her warm tears soaked through my shirt. “I know you’re bothered by that handprint. But it really was just normal exercise. You know I’m very disciplined. I need Jordan to physically adjust my form. He’s strong and doesn’t know his own strength—it’s normal.” In our intimate moments before, she always asked me to be gentle. Even in long sleeves, she found marks unsightly. Now that she’d started this disciplined lifestyle, she liked wearing tank tops and didn’t seem to care anymore. But in that location—was I really overthinking it? Seeing my silence, her tears fell even harder. “If you don’t believe me, I can strip naked and go to the gynecology department for a doctor’s examination! You don’t love me anymore anyway. What’s a little more humiliation for me?” “And I was even thinking that after getting healthier through discipline, I’d give you another child. The four of us could live happily together!” Her voice choked with emotion, barely getting out each sentence. Maybe I’m really pathetic. I remembered how she used to kiss me on our wedding day, painting pictures of our beautiful multi-child family, and I couldn’t harden my heart anymore. I gently hugged her back, my face nuzzling her long hair. “Georgina, I’ll find you a new trainer. Let’s start over.” Her hand slid down my spine, stroking up and down. After a long moment, she responded: “Okay, I’ll listen to you!”

Jordan indeed never appeared again. Everything seemed to be getting back on track. Georgina continued being a disciplined lifestyle blogger, even featuring Mary’s life in her content. Until one day, I saw a corner of clothing in a photo she posted. A man’s clothing. But her new trainer was a single female trainer. The later photos became even more brazen. The female trainer’s face wasn’t in frame, but they were feeding each other coffee and wearing matching friendship rings. To wear the new ring, she took off her wedding ring that she never used to remove. The comments praised their close relationship. But I noticed the trainer’s muscular arms under the sleeves were a man’s. She was blatantly having Jordan wear the female trainer’s clothes, being intimate with him, as if I were some ridiculous blind fool. But that wasn’t enough. That same day when I got home, she sat on top of me, laughing coquettishly as she pressed against me. “Lucas, my wedding ring got so old. I bought a new one. Isn’t it pretty?” I thought of the bank card notification on my phone—a payment of over a hundred thousand dollars—and couldn’t help feeling bitter. She used the money we’d saved together for Mary to buy a pair of rings and gave one to Jordan. I looked at the latest model phone worth ten thousand dollars she used to photograph us, and the thousand-dollar phone she’d given me that barely worked anymore, and couldn’t help but laugh coldly. It was like at that moment I finally understood—giving up on something might not be as painful as I thought. This phone was just charity she’d pretended to carefully prepare for my birthday. Yet I’d treasured it like a precious thing, using it year after year. Now, the flickering signal light seemed to remind me that it was time to get a new phone. I didn’t expose her. I just reached out and held her. Consider it saying goodbye to the little tail who used to follow me around. But the person who used to love nestling in my arms pulled away from my embrace like she’d been startled. I seemed to see dark marks on her collarbone. When she went to shower, I found the lawyer’s number I’d saved before and had him continue drafting divorce papers. When she came out wearing tight clothes and nestled in my arms as usual, she said, “The teacher said Mary’s grades aren’t great and she can’t concentrate. I’m planning to take her out to relax.” “Okay, don’t put pressure on Mary.” Waking up in the middle of the night, I habitually tucked her in, but saw what seemed to be tears at the corners of her eyes. I leaned close to her slightly parted lips, trying to hear what she was saying. But when I heard clearly, the warmth I’d barely gathered suddenly dissipated. She said: “Jordan, you’re so much gentler than Lucas. If only you were Mary’s father…” My fist immediately clenched tight as I looked at her face through gritted teeth. Since you won’t accept an amicable separation, don’t blame me for not honoring our years of marriage! The next day, Georgina took Mary out to relax, saying Mary had her genes—with training she’d definitely become disciplined. I just smiled faintly, noncommittal, telling her to have fun with Mary. Last time after my team leader chewed me out, he assigned me a lot of work. I stayed at the company for several days before barely finishing it all. The divorce papers were ready, and Mary should be back. I walked into the house but saw a complete mess. Our dusty wedding photo had been smashed on the floor, shards scattered everywhere. The narcissus our family of three had raised was pulled up by the roots, petals floating one by one on the water’s surface. Even the scarf Georgina had knitted for me had a glaring cigarette burn! I shoved open the bedroom door and saw Jordan sprawled arrogantly in the master bedroom, holding Georgina’s pajamas! I immediately felt nauseated! But when he woke up and saw it was me, he immediately showed a mocking smile! He held up the key on him high, his words slurred from being drunk. “I’ve been sleeping here for days before you came. I was starting to think you were planning to give me the house!” “But hey, don’t be mad. Even though Georgina gave me her body and money, I don’t think much of her either. Don’t let me ruin your marital harmony.” His words were incoherent as his hand crumpled our family photo. He wadded up the photo and stepped on it with his filthy feet!

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I woke up in the hospital, and a man in a sharp suit was sitting by my bed. I asked politely, “Excuse me, sir, am I here to interview for a nanny position at your home?” His face went pale. “What did you say?” I got a bit nervous. “I’m sorry, I’ve lost my memory. I only remember that I was supposed to go work as a live-in nanny for a family…” He grabbed my hand, trembling, but I instinctively pulled away. “Sir, please control yourself.” After returning to the villa, everyone looked at me strangely. I worked diligently, waking up at five every morning to make breakfast for Mr. Vincent and Miss Willow. The way she looked at me changed from smug to uneasy. Mr. Vincent’s son cried and hugged me. I awkwardly pushed him away. “Ethan, nannies can’t have physical contact with their employers like this.” He cried even harder. Mr. Vincent often stared at me. I thought he was dissatisfied with my work, so I worked even harder. One night, I brought a late-night snack to the study and heard him on the phone. “Doctor, when will she recover her memory? I can’t take this anymore…” His voice was choked with tears. “She used to love me so much, but now she treats me like a stranger…” I froze outside the door.

I got up at five as usual. Before the car accident, I remembered I was working as a nanny for a wealthy family, cooking and taking care of this father and son every day. Since I’d been discharged from the hospital, I still needed to do my job properly. I tiptoed downstairs. The kitchen lights were still off. I opened the fridge and saw it packed with ingredients. I took out eggs, tomatoes, and bacon, planning to make simple sandwiches. While I was frying eggs, I heard footsteps behind me. I turned around. Mr. Vincent was standing in the kitchen doorway, his eyes red, like he hadn’t slept all night. “Mr. Vincent, you’re up so early?” I asked politely. He stared at me and let out a cold laugh. “Nice act,” he said. I was confused. “What?” He walked over. “You think getting into a car accident and pretending to have amnesia is a way to start over?” I had no idea what he was talking about. “Mr. Vincent, I really do have amnesia…” “Cut the crap.” He interrupted me, his tone especially cold. “You were demanding a divorce before, and now today you’re saying you’re the nanny?” His attitude scared me, and I took a step back. He continued, “You want sympathy, right? You want me to feel guilty, want Ethan to feel sorry for you?” “I didn’t…” “Whether you did or not, I know.” He looked at me coldly. “Sophia, you’ve used a lot of tactics, but this one is too crude.” I opened my mouth, not knowing what to say. The sandwiches were done. I cut them into three portions and arranged them on the dining table. Mr. Vincent sat in the main seat, not even glancing at the breakfast I’d made. “Your breakfasts used to be elaborate,” he said. “And now it’s just this?” I nervously wrung my hands. “I… I only know how to make these…” “Keep acting.” He took a bite of the sandwich and put it down. “Even the taste has changed.” I didn’t know how to explain. Just then, crying came from upstairs. Ethan had woken up. I rushed upstairs and pushed open the children’s room door. Ethan was sitting on the bed. When he saw me, tears immediately fell. “Mommy…” he cried. I crouched down. “Ethan, what’s wrong?” He froze for a moment, then cried even harder. “You don’t recognize me anymore?” I didn’t know what to say, so I could only gently pat his back. Mr. Vincent came upstairs too, standing in the doorway with a cold expression. “Stop acting,” he said. “Ethan, ignore her. She’s putting on a show.” Ethan looked up at his father, then at me, and cried even louder. I stood up and said awkwardly, “Then… I’ll go downstairs first.” “Stop.” Mr. Vincent called out to me. “Where are you sleeping?” “The nanny’s room.” He sneered. “Really getting into character.” I kept my head down, not daring to look at him. “Whatever.” He said. “But don’t think this will make me soften.” During breakfast, the atmosphere was especially oppressive. Ethan kept staring at me, tears dripping down. Mr. Vincent didn’t even glance at me. After I saw they’d finished eating, I carefully spoke up. “Mr. Vincent, I’d like to ask, what’s my salary?” He looked up at me, his eyes like he was looking at a stranger. “Salary?” He repeated the word and laughed. “Sophia, you really are expanding my understanding.” I was completely confused by what he said. “Forget it, act however you want to act.” He stood up. “But don’t expect me to play along.” Then he left. Ethan also ran upstairs, leaving me sitting alone in the dining room. I looked at the table full of breakfast, suddenly feeling especially lost. Is this father and son pair sick or something?

Over the next few days, Mr. Vincent’s attitude toward me got colder and colder. I didn’t care. I was just a nanny—do my job well and that’s it, whatever he does is his business. I’d save some money and then quit. At noon, I started making lunch. Ethan was playing with toys in the living room. When he saw me, he turned his head away and ignored me. Willow was sitting on the sofa and smiled at me. “Sophia, need any help?” I shook my head. “No, thank you, Miss Willow.” She smiled and didn’t say anything. Lunch was ready. I brought it to the table. Shrimp pizza and a plate of vegetables. Ethan glanced at it and pouted. Willow served him food. “Ethan, eat more.” “Auntie Willow’s cooking tastes better,” he said quietly. I stood to the side, a bit awkward. Mr. Vincent came home and saw the food on the table, frowning. “Just this?” I nodded. “Yes… yes.” He sneered and sat down to eat. Ethan took two bites of pizza and suddenly clutched his stomach. “Ethan?” Willow quickly asked. His face turned especially red, and a rash broke out on his neck. Mr. Vincent’s expression changed instantly. He picked him up and rushed out. “To the hospital!” I panicked too and ran out after them. In the car, Mr. Vincent drove extremely fast, his face ashen. I sat in the back seat, watching Ethan in pain, my heart clenching. At the hospital, the doctor gave Ethan a shot and confirmed it was a shrimp allergy. Mr. Vincent turned to look at me, his eyes especially cold. “You gave him shrimp?” I froze. “I… I didn’t know Ethan was allergic…” “You didn’t know?” He sneered. “You’re his mother. How could you not know?” His tone scared me. “But… I really don’t remember…” “Still acting.” He cut me off. “Sophia, you think I don’t know what you’re thinking?” “You just want to use this to get revenge on me, right? Want to make me feel guilty?” I shook my head. “I didn’t…” “Enough.” He turned and went into the hospital room, leaving me standing alone in the corridor. Willow came over and sighed softly. “Sophia, I know you’re hurting inside,” she said. “But doing this… is it really good?” I didn’t understand what she meant. She continued, “Using this method to try to win Vincent back will only make him more disgusted.” I was stunned. “I’m not trying to win him back…” “You don’t need to explain to me.” She smiled and said softly, “Sophia, I advise you to give up. Vincent has already given up on you. No matter how much you act, it’s useless.” Then she went into the hospital room. I stood in the corridor, my mind blank. I had no idea what she was talking about. When I got home, I searched my own name online. The first news article that came up was: “Lancaster Group Heiress Marries Poor Boy, Seven Years Later Marriage Reportedly on the Rocks.” I clicked on it. The article said that Sophia Lancaster was the only daughter of the Lancaster Group. Seven years ago, against her family’s wishes, she married Vincent Hayes, who was just an ordinary employee at the time. After marriage, she quit her position as vice president to be a full-time housewife. Vincent relied on his father-in-law’s connections, and his business grew bigger and bigger. Three years ago, Sophia’s parents died, and she inherited a large fortune. Recently there were rumors that their marriage was in crisis. I read these news articles, completely dumbfounded. My first reaction was that this Sophia was way too naive—so rich and she married a gold digger!

Vincent hired a new chef, a middle-aged woman who was especially polite to me. “Mrs. Hayes, what would you like to eat?” she asked. I was taken aback. “I… I’m not Mrs. Hayes.” “She likes to pretend to be the nanny now,” Willow said with a smile. “Just call her Miss Sophia.” The chef looked confused but nodded. Ethan had been avoiding me these past few days. Once I tried to hand him a toy, and he threw it on the floor. “I don’t want you to touch it!” he shouted. Mr. Vincent watched from the side, sneered, and said nothing. Today no one was home, so I thought I’d clean the study. I pushed open the door. The bookshelves inside were full of books and photos. I took a cloth and started dusting. Halfway through, I saw a photo. It was a picture of Willow and Vincent together, both standing by the ocean, smiling happily. I frowned and kept looking. There were at least seven or eight photos like this on the bookshelf. In contrast, there was only one photo of Vincent and Sophia, tucked away in a corner. I thought to myself, these two definitely have something going on. How did the lady of the house tolerate this? I was already silently rejecting the idea that I was Sophia. I wasn’t that much of a lovesick fool. While organizing the desk, I saw a notebook in the drawer. Curious, I took it out and opened it. The first page had just one line: “Why hasn’t he come home yet…” Flipping through, it was all this kind of rambling. “It’s 3 AM, I’ve been waiting in the living room all night.” “Willow came again today. She said she and Vincent are just friends, but why is she living in my house?” “Ethan said he likes Auntie Willow better. My heart is broken.” Looking at these words, I thought—tormenting yourself like this for a man, why bother? Might as well be a nanny—at least there’s a salary. I kept flipping. “We fought again today. He said I was being unreasonable.” “I just wanted an explanation. Does that count as being unreasonable?” “Ethan defended Willow today and said I’m a bad mommy.” “I’m so tired…” The handwriting got messier and messier. Some places had tear stains. I flipped to the last page. There was only one sentence: “I want a divorce.” Now that’s more like it! This kind of person deserves a divorce! I casually put the diary away. This crybaby lovesick fool definitely isn’t me. At dinner that night, Ethan kept staring at me. His eyes were red, like he’d been crying. “Mommy…” he suddenly called out quietly. I looked up at him. “Do… do you really not remember me?” he asked, his voice trembling. I didn’t know how to answer. Mr. Vincent put down his fork and looked at me, a hint of expectation in his eyes. I opened my mouth and finally nodded. Ethan cried. Willow quickly comforted him. “Ethan, sweetie, don’t cry…” I also said, “Ethan, don’t you like Auntie Willow the most? Having her here is enough…” Ethan froze, then ran upstairs crying. Mr. Vincent stood up and looked at me coldly. “Have you acted enough?” he said. “Even lying to your own son?” Then he went upstairs too. Only Willow and I were left at the dining table. She sighed. “Sophia, why do this?” I didn’t say anything. She stood up, walked over to me, and said softly, “You know what? Vincent actually cares about you a lot.” “It’s just that what you’ve done these years has really disappointed him.” She patted my shoulder and went upstairs. I was a bit helpless. “What’s there to act about? He cares about me, but I don’t care about him.”

These past few days, Mr. Vincent’s attitude toward me had softened a little. He no longer made sarcastic remarks, but he didn’t really acknowledge me either. Just like I really was a nanny. This morning, Willow suddenly came to find me. “Sophia, let’s talk,” she said. We sat in the living room. She looked a bit nervous. “Actually… Vincent and I were college sweethearts,” she began. I was taken aback. She continued, “We dated for three years, then we were forced to break up because our families opposed it.” I didn’t say anything, just listened to her continue. “Five years ago I got divorced and had nowhere to go, so I found Vincent.” Her voice was soft. “He took me in and let me live here.” I thought to myself: Here comes the homewrecker’s confession. “You… you’re not angry?” she asked cautiously. I shook my head. “Why would I be angry?” She froze. I said, “Miss Willow, your past with Mr. Vincent is your business. I don’t remember anything, so there’s nothing to be angry about.” Her expression changed. “But… you weren’t like this before.” “Before?” “You used to be really mean to me,” she said. “Every time I came, you’d find all kinds of excuses to kick me out.” “You even talked bad about me in front of Ethan, telling him not to play with me.” Her voice sounded a bit aggrieved. “Later he found out I wasn’t that kind of person, and he ended up hating you even more.” I sighed inwardly. The lady of the house really ruined herself… Talking bad about someone in front of a child, and in the end even her son sided with the other woman. “That was her being petty,” I said. “I wouldn’t do that.” Willow looked at me with a complex expression. Just then, Mr. Vincent came in. He heard our conversation and stood in the doorway, looking displeased. “What are you saying?” he asked Willow. Willow lowered her head, looking like I’d bullied her. I said, “Miss Willow was just explaining why she moved in before, but I said, I’m just a nanny—I don’t care about these things.” Mr. Vincent turned to look at me, his eyes complex. “Do you know what you did before to drive her away?” I shook my head. “You flew to her hometown, knelt in front of her parents, and begged them to make her stay away from me.” I was stunned. He continued, “You came back and cried all night, saying you’d never been so humiliated.” “But the next day, she came back. Because I asked her to come back.” He looked at me, waiting for my reaction. I felt helpless. This definitely wasn’t me! Way too pathetic… Kneeling and begging people? Degrading yourself like this for a man? But I didn’t say it out loud, just nodded. “Oh.” Mr. Vincent froze. “Just… oh?” he asked. “Yeah.” I said. “That was in the past. I don’t remember it. Like I said, if you’re paying me as a nanny, I’ll work as a nanny. If you’re not paying me, I’ll leave.” Actually, if it weren’t for just getting out of the hospital, I would’ve left already. He stared at me for a long time, his eyes getting more and more complex. “You really…” He hesitated. Willow was also looking at me, her expression a bit panicked. The atmosphere was especially awkward. Mr. Vincent suddenly said, “Come with me.” He took me to the study. Closing the door, he turned to look at me. “Sophia, what exactly are you thinking?” he asked. His question left me confused. “I… I’m not thinking anything.” “You heard me say you knelt and begged people, and you had no reaction at all?” He took a deep breath. “Before, when you heard these things, you’d cry, make a scene, throw things.” “But now you don’t even furrow your brow.” I didn’t know what to say. Nobody told me being a nanny also meant playing therapist. He kept staring at me, then suddenly said, “If you really have amnesia…” He didn’t finish. But I saw a flicker of doubt in his eyes. He turned around. “Get out.” I left the study, breathing a sigh of relief.

These past few days, Mr. Vincent’s attitude toward me had become even stranger. He no longer made sarcastic remarks, but instead often stared at me. As if observing whether I really had amnesia. Today was the weekend. He said he was taking Ethan to the amusement park. “You come too,” he suddenly said to me. I was surprised. “I… should I go? You won’t deduct it from my pay?” “No.” Ethan pouted on the side. “I don’t want her to come!” Mr. Vincent frowned. “Ethan.” “She doesn’t want to be with me anyway!” Ethan’s eyes turned red. “She doesn’t care about me at all!” I stood there, a bit awkward. She really got that right. Willow quickly said, “Then I’ll go with Ethan. Let Sophia rest at home.” Mr. Vincent glanced at me and said nothing. The three of them left. I sat in the living room watching TV, feeling pretty relaxed. At 3 PM, Ethan video called me. I answered and saw him sitting on a carousel. “Look, I’m on the carousel!” He smiled happily. I nodded. “Is it fun?” “Yeah! Auntie Willow played so many rides with me!” Willow waved and smiled in the background. Ethan suddenly said quietly, “I wish Auntie Willow was my mommy.” This kid… really spoiled rotten. Good thing I don’t remember her. I just smiled. “Then you have to listen to Auntie Willow, okay?” Ethan froze, like he didn’t expect me to say that. He looked at Mr. Vincent beside him. Mr. Vincent’s face looked terrible. “You… you’re not even angry?” Ethan asked. “Why would I be angry?” I said. “You can play with whoever you like.” Ethan’s tears suddenly fell. Mr. Vincent took the phone and hung up the video call. I went back to watching TV. They came home in the evening. Ethan was holding a balloon, looking upset, his eyes still red. Willow was also very quiet. Only Mr. Vincent kept staring at me. At dinner, he suddenly said, “Willow took really good care of Ethan today.” He paused. “Unlike some people.” I was drinking soup when I heard this and my hand paused. Willow quickly said, “Vincent, don’t say that…” “I’m stating facts.” He looked at me. “Some people don’t even care about their child anymore.” I put down my spoon and said calmly, “Miss Willow is indeed very good.” Mr. Vincent’s spoon dropped on the table. He stared at me, eyes full of disbelief. “That’s your answer?” he asked. I nodded. “What else?” He suddenly stood up, the chair scraping with a harsh sound. “You can stop caring just because you don’t remember?” His voice got louder and louder. “Ethan is your son! How can you be so cold?” Ethan suddenly jumped down from his chair and ran up to me. “You…” His voice was trembling. “You really don’t care about me anymore, do you?” I didn’t speak, afraid of upsetting him. Tears fell from his eyes. “I said I wish Auntie Willow was my mommy, and you didn’t even get angry…” “Do you wish I wasn’t your son?” I panicked. “That’s not what I meant…” “Then what did you mean?” He cried harder. “You’re obviously my mommy, why are you pretending not to know me?” “Why don’t you feel sad when I say things like that?” He was crying so hard he couldn’t catch his breath. When I didn’t respond, he ran upstairs by himself. Mr. Vincent stood there, looking terrible. “You really…” Mr. Vincent looked at me, his voice trembling slightly. “You really don’t care anymore?” Willow also stood there awkwardly. They all looked at me. I had to say, “I’m just a nanny. Should I care?” He suddenly turned and chased after Ethan upstairs. Crying came from upstairs. It was Ethan crying, with Mr. Vincent trying to comfort him. “Ethan, stop crying… Mommy is just sick…” “But Daddy… the way she looks at me… like I’m a bad kid…” “No, Mommy loves you very much…” “Then why isn’t she angry? Does she really not want me anymore…” The child’s crying gradually quieted, probably from exhaustion. I stood downstairs, unable to describe what I was feeling. A bit uncomfortable, but only a bit. In the middle of the night, I got up to use the bathroom. Passing by the master bedroom, I heard sounds inside. “Doctor, she might really have amnesia…” It was Mr. Vincent on the phone. “She has no reaction to Ethan at all… completely unlike how much she used to care…” “Traumatic amnesia? There’s such a thing?” His voice sounded a bit panicked. “Can she still recover?” “You’re saying… she might never remember?” “No… that’s impossible…” His voice changed. “She can’t not remember me… can’t stop loving me…” I stood outside the door, listening to his voice. Suddenly felt a bit pathetic. He cared so much about whether I remembered him. But he never seemed to ask whether I wanted to remember.

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Four hours after my death, a grotesque scene unfolded outside the cold morgue drawer where I lay. My husband, Victor, and my sister, Julia, were fighting for their lives—not over my inheritance, but in sheer terror. They’d found my suicide note, taped to the drawer: “The one who murdered me drank a poison I call ‘Crimson Truth’ three hours ago. In twenty-four hours, it will eat through their gut.” Detectives watched calmly as Victor, sweating and desperate, grabbed the medical examiner. “Extract her memories—now! The antidote’s in her brain!” Julia screamed, pulling at him. “Are you insane? The police are here! They’ll see everything!” Victor slapped her. “Without the antidote, we’re dead! This is our only chance!” They thought they were racing the clock. They didn’t know this was only the opening act of the “game” I’d designed for them. As the machine powered on, a hologram filled the room. The first image was from my own eyes: me holding two glasses of red wine, toasting an empty room. My voice echoed, “My darlings, the show has just begun.” Who, do you think, will be the first to lose control? … The air conditioning in the morgue was blasting, but beads of sweat still rolled down Victor’s forehead like marbles. He clutched his stomach, his face as pale as a freshly painted wall, and made a dry, retching sound, like he had a fishbone caught in his throat. “Detective Grant, I’m formally requesting an immediate memory extraction! Now!” Victor’s voice trembled with the primal fear of death. Detective Grant stood with his arms crossed, his gaze as sharp as a hawk’s. It swept over Victor’s contorted face and then to Julia, who had collapsed in a heap on the floor. “Mr. Blackwood, memory extraction requires the signed consent of the next of kin. And the police must be present to record the entire procedure.” Grant paused, a hint of dark amusement in his tone. “If anything… incriminating… should appear in those memories, say, evidence of a murder, it will be admissible in court.” Victor’s head snapped up, his eyes a web of red veins. He knew exactly what that meant. But he also knew that without the antidote, in less than twenty-four hours, his insides would rot away, just as my note described. “I’ll sign! I’ll sign it!” Victor snatched the consent form, the tip of his pen tearing the paper. His signature was a frantic, illegible scrawl. Julia scrambled up from the floor and grabbed his sleeve, her nails digging into his flesh. “Victor! Don’t! Those are her memories! What if… what if…” What if what, Julia? What if they showed the two of you collaborating to swap my heart medication with fakes? Or what if there was a close-up of you, my dear sister, pouring the poison into my glass with your own two hands? Victor threw her off with such force that she slammed against a morgue drawer with a sickening thud. “Get off me! If you want to die, don’t drag me down with you!” he screamed, his voice raw with hysteria. “As long as I get the antidote, we can deal with the rest later! What good is ‘later’ if we’re dead?!” Julia clutched her bruised shoulder, tears streaming down her face, but the dominant emotion in her eyes was terror. She was afraid of dying, too. She knew better than anyone that my title as a “master perfumer” wasn’t just for show. The poisons I concocted, only I could undo. Their lawyer, Mr. Ferguson, adjusted his gold-rimmed glasses and wiped a sheen of sweat from his brow before leaning in to whisper in Victor’s ear. “Mr. Blackwood, as long as there’s no direct footage of the act itself, we have room to build a defense. Survival is the priority right now.” Ferguson was a smart man, and a survivor. He knew that if Victor died, all the shady asset transfers he’d helped orchestrate would come to light. This was his best bet. Grant gave a sharp nod. Technicians moved forward, attaching the complex web of electrodes to my cold scalp. “Instrument activated. Commencing memory extraction.” 2 The giant holographic screen flickered twice, then blazed to life. The scene was from my perspective, twenty-four hours before my death. I was in my private laboratory. Reagent bottles in a rainbow of colors lined the countertops. I was wearing a white lab coat, a dropper in my hand. Victor and Julia held their breath, their eyes glued to the screen, terrified of missing a single detail. In the memory, I was mixing a strange, crimson liquid. The red was so vibrant it looked like freshly drawn venous blood. As I carefully added droplets of a reagent, I murmured to myself, my tone so cheerful it was chilling. “A double dose for Victor’s glass. That leech has had a growing appetite lately.” “And a triple dose for Julia’s. She is my dear sister, after all. She deserves a more… thorough experience.” As I spoke, the red liquid bubbled in the beaker, releasing thin wisps of white smoke. In the morgue, Julia let out a strangled cry and threw up on the floor, a bitter mix of stomach acid and bile. Victor’s legs gave out, and he collapsed to his knees, his hands clawing at his own throat as if the red liquid were already searing his esophagus. “The antidote… where’s the antidote…” he whimpered, his eyes losing focus. On the screen, my memory-self held up the freshly mixed “poison,” looked directly into the camera—directly at them—and smiled a terrible, knowing smile. “Patience. The game has just begun.” I turned and poured the red liquid into a wine decanter, which held Victor’s favorite bottle of Romanée-Conti. Victor’s pupils dilated to pinpricks. He remembered. Last night, to celebrate my “unexpected” death, he and Julia had finished that entire bottle. They hadn’t left a single drop. Fear, like a giant, invisible hand, clamped down on his heart. He thought he was drinking the wine of victory. In reality, it was his ticket to hell. And I was waiting for him at the gates, smiling. At that moment, Victor’s sanity shattered. He lay on the floor like a dying animal, gasping for air, his eyes filled with a desperate will to live. “Detective! Help me! Get me to a hospital! Pump my stomach! Now!” Detective Grant watched him with a cold, clinical detachment, as if observing a clown’s pathetic performance. “Mr. Blackwood, the M.E. has already checked your vitals. They’re perfectly stable. You’re showing no signs of poisoning.” Victor’s head snapped up, his eyes bulging. “Impossible! The note was clear! And the memory… that red stuff! I drank all of it!” It was strawberry juice, I added silently in my mind. With a little food coloring and a dash of capsaicin to give it a kick. Unfortunately for them, the dead can’t speak, and the living are easily blinded by fear. “It could have a delayed onset! Michelle was a psycho, she loved playing these kinds of twisted games!” Julia shrieked, her voice a piercing nail on a chalkboard. “Take us to a hospital! We need blood tests!” “It’s no use,” Mr. Ferguson interjected suddenly, his face ashen. “You know Ms. Reed’s level of expertise. Any poison she created would be undetectable by conventional tests.” That statement was the final straw. Victor’s eyes fluttered shut in despair, then snapped open again, fixing on the screen. “Keep watching! There has to be an antidote! She would have left herself a way out!” The memory continued to play. The timeline jumped to three hours before the incident. The scene was our living room. Victor was on the sofa, whispering with Mr. Ferguson. Ferguson held a document, his expression nervous. “Mr. Blackwood, Ms. Reed still hasn’t signed these stock transfer papers. If she were to… suddenly… could there be complications?” Victor let out a cold laugh, swirling the “spiked” wine in his glass. “Don’t worry. After tonight, she won’t be in any condition to sign anything.” In the morgue, Detective Grant’s expression sharpened instantly. He turned his head and locked his gaze on Mr. Ferguson. 3 Mr. Ferguson froze, a river of cold sweat running down his temple. He instinctively reached for a glass of water on the table, but his hand trembled so badly that he knocked it over. It shattered on the floor, the sound echoing in the silent morgue. The sudden noise drew everyone’s attention. And in that precise instant, on the screen, my memory-self turned her head. I wasn’t looking at Victor or Ferguson. My gaze was fixed on the massive floor-to-ceiling mirror in the living room. Through the mirror’s reflection, my eyes seemed to pierce through the screen, landing directly on the Mr. Ferguson of the present. “Don’t bother, Detective,” my voice from the memory said, cool, confident, and laced with mockery. “Pay attention to the lawyer’s hand.” Grant whipped his head around, his eyes like daggers, pinning Ferguson’s right hand, which he hadn’t managed to retract in time. His hand was creeping toward his pocket, where a miniature signal jammer was hidden. One press, and the memory extractor’s power would be cut, corrupting the data. It was their last-ditch effort to save themselves. Too bad I saw it coming. “Take your hand out of your pocket! Now!” Grant barked. Two officers were on Ferguson in a second, twisting his arms behind his back and pulling the black device from his pocket. Victor stared at the scene, utterly dumbfounded. He looked from the jammer to my image on the screen as if he were seeing a ghost. “How… How did she know?” My memory-self couldn’t hear him, of course. But I had seen Ferguson’s furtive movements in the mirror. I let out a soft laugh, then pulled a folded lab report from a drawer and waved it in the air. “Victor, did you really think I wouldn’t notice you’d swapped my heart medication?” The lab report was clearly visible. Under “Chemical Analysis,” one simple ingredient was listed: Vitamin C. In the morgue, Victor leaped to his feet as if he’d been electrocuted. “That’s slander! It’s fake! She was paranoid! That was expensive imported medicine I bought for her!” he roared, trying to drown his guilt with sheer volume. But Grant just stared at him coldly, the red light of his body camera blinking, faithfully recording every word. “We’ll see if it’s slander once we analyze the residual medication in the deceased’s system,” Grant said. His words were a bucket of ice water, extinguishing Victor’s last spark of hope. Victor slumped into a chair, his eyes vacant. He knew the suspicion of murder was now impossible to shake. But he couldn’t stop. The thought of his intestines rotting was far more terrifying than a prison sentence. “The antidote… I need the antidote…” he chanted like a broken record, his eyes fixed on the screen as if it were his only salvation. The memory moved forward. My on-screen self casually tossed the lab report into the trash and walked toward the safe in the study. I entered the combination, opened the door, and took out a small, elegant vial. It contained a blue liquid that shimmered under the light with an eerie glow. “This is the antidote,” I said to the empty room. I then placed the vial inside a portable lockbox and secured it. “The most dangerous place is the safest place,” I said, patting the box, a cryptic smile playing on my lips. “I mailed it… to Detective Grant at the precinct.” As those words echoed, the air in the morgue seemed to solidify. Every single person, in perfect unison, turned to stare at Detective Grant. 4 Even Grant was taken aback, his brow furrowing. “Detective! Quickly! Check the mailroom!” Victor scrambled toward Grant like a drowning man lunging for a life raft, only to be blocked by an officer. “Stay put!” Grant waved a hand, dispatching one of his men. A few minutes later, the officer returned, holding a black package. “Sir, there’s a package. Same-day city courier. It just arrived.” Victor’s eyes lit up with a greedy, nauseating glint. “It’s the antidote! It has to be! Give it to me!” Julia staggered to her feet, trying to lunge for it as well. Grant pressed his hand firmly on the package, his cold eyes sweeping over them. “This is evidence. It has to be processed before it can be opened.” “No processing! It can’t be exposed to light!” Victor shrieked, his voice cracking under the strain. “Michelle said in the memory, the antidote is photolabile! It has to be consumed immediately!” I had indeed said that. In the memory, after locking the box, I had turned to the camera and added, “This stuff is very delicate. Three seconds of light and it’s useless. And… only Victor’s fingerprint can open it.” This was the first trap I’d set for him. Grant looked at the complex mechanical lock on the package, then at Victor’s trembling hands. “If your fingerprint is the only one that works, then you open it.” Grant placed the package on a table and took a step back, his hand never leaving the butt of his gun. “But I’m warning you, if this contains anything dangerous, you’ll face the consequences.” Victor was far beyond caring about consequences. His mind was consumed by the image of that blue liquid. His life. He reached out a trembling hand and pressed his thumb to the fingerprint scanner. Beep. A green light flashed. The box sprang open. Victor and Julia practically dove headfirst into it. But a second later, their expressions froze. There was no blue liquid. There was only an empty glass vial and a small, folded piece of paper. “It’s empty? How can it be empty?!” Julia screamed, grabbing the vial and shaking it violently, as if she could conjure the liquid from thin air. Victor picked up the note, his hands shaking like a leaf in a storm. There was only one line, written in my elegant script, yet it radiated an icy chill: “The antidote is volatile, so I only left the raw materials. They are hidden inside the weapons you used to kill me.” The blood drained from Victor’s face. The weapons? The golf club he had used to smash the vial of my real heart medication? Julia’s makeup bag, where she had concealed the vial of poison? He hadn’t had time to dispose of them. The police had arrived too quickly, forcing him to hide everything back in plain sight. Now, this note had backed them into a corner. To live, they would have to personally hand over the instruments of their crime. This was the second trap. A trap of their own making. “Where? Where are the weapons?” Grant’s voice was sharp, his eyes catching the flicker of panic on Victor’s face. Victor gritted his teeth, the veins on his forehead bulging. He was making his final calculation. Hand over the weapons and admit to murder. Refuse, and wait to die. The twenty-four-hour countdown was a sword hanging over his head, each passing second a reminder of his impending, agonizing end. “At… at home,” Victor finally croaked, his voice raspy. “Take me there… to get the… items.” He didn’t dare call them weapons. Grant let out a cold laugh and waved his hand. “Take them away! To the crime scene!” Police sirens ripped through the night as the convoy, filled with desperate and guilty souls, sped toward the place that was once called “home.” The place where my life had ended. And where the truth was about to be born.

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I had no interest in being a trophy husband. The first thing my wife did after her memory returned was go back to her powerful, wealthy family. The second was to find the man from her past—the one she’d always been meant for. She once told me I’d hit the lottery by marrying her, that I should cherish the incredible luck I’d stumbled into. She even suggested that a truly “supportive” husband shouldn’t pry into his wife’s private life. Too bad for her, I’m not that kind of man. The tenth time she brought him back to the villa we shared, I placed a signed divorce agreement on the table in front of her. … “Let’s get a divorce.” I spoke to Isabelle as she sank into the sofa, just home from a business dinner. She looked up, her eyes glassy with wine. “What did you say?” She was drunk, and the words hadn’t registered. I was about to repeat myself when our housekeeper walked in, her arms full of clothes. “Ma’am, these are the clothes from last season you asked me to clear out. What should I do with them?” Isabelle didn’t even glance at them. “Just throw them out.” I looked at the pile. Most of the dresses had been worn only two or three times. The old Isabelle, the one I had married, wore the same simple t-shirt for three years because she couldn’t bear to buy a new one. Now, she tossed away clothes that cost thousands of dollars without a second thought. She seemed exhausted. After drinking a glass of water, she went upstairs to bed. I looked down at the divorce papers in my hand, a storm of emotions churning inside me. I’d spent the afternoon at a lawyer’s office. He’d drafted the agreement according to my wishes, explaining the mandatory thirty-day cooling-off period before the divorce could be finalized. Isabelle Sinclair was the sole heiress to the Sinclair Group, a woman of almost unimaginable wealth. But I had no interest in her fortune. I’d never wanted a cent of her money, so there would be no messy disputes over assets. I was a chef. That’s all I’d ever wanted to be. Five years ago, on my way home from a shift, I found her injured on the side of the road. I took her to the hospital. When she woke up, she had amnesia, no memory of who she was. With nowhere else for her to go, I took her home. Living together, we fell in love. We were married within a year. Then, a clumsy fall, a knock to the head, and just like that, her memories came flooding back. She remembered everything. She was Isabelle Sinclair, born into a world of privilege and power. I went with her back to her family’s estate. Her parents were overjoyed to have her back, but their joy soured the moment they saw me. They did not approve. They couldn’t accept our marriage. I wasn’t good enough for her. I was just a line cook. No distinguished family, no respectable career. But Isabelle insisted. She told them she wouldn’t be with anyone else, that if they forced me to leave, she would leave with me. Her parents, seeing no other choice, reluctantly relented. But their acceptance was a façade. In their eyes, I was still beneath them. They never looked at me without a hint of disdain. I loved cooking. It was my passion. But Isabelle’s parents declared that their son-in-law could not be a “cook.” My job was a disgrace to their family name. I had to quit. Even then, they never warmed to me. The next morning, I was up early, preparing breakfast as usual. When I brought the food out, a man was sitting at our dining table. He was handsome, with an air of effortless class. Tristan Everidge. Like Isabelle, an heir to a fortune. He glanced at me, a provocative smile playing on his lips. He picked up a dumpling, popped it into his mouth, and turned to Isabelle. “Izzy, your chef’s skills are impressive. Much better than the one we have at home.” I said nothing, just placed the platter of pancakes on the table. Isabelle looked at him. “Why don’t you wait for me in the living room?” Tristan shrugged and stood up, strolling casually out of the room. She turned to me. “He didn’t know you were the one who cooked. That’s why he said that.” “I know,” I said. It was a lie. He knew exactly what he was doing. He was in love with Isabelle and wanted nothing more than for me to disappear. Isabelle sighed. “He’s here to take me to meet a client. It’s nothing, Arthur. Don’t overthink it.” “I won’t.” As she spoke, my eyes fell on the watch on her wrist, and my body went rigid. It was identical to the one Tristan was wearing. A matching set from a luxury brand. I knew he had given it to her for her birthday last month. The simple silver bracelet I had saved up to buy for her was still sitting in her jewelry box, untouched. I looked at her. “I need to talk to you. We need to…” 2 Before I could get the word “divorce” out, she cut me off. “I’m incredibly busy. Whatever it is, it can wait until I get home tonight.” She stood up and walked toward Tristan. They left together, their laughter echoing down the hall. When she was with me, she was usually quiet. I was always the one trying to bridge the ever-widening gap between our worlds, struggling to find topics we could share. Once, I came home from the market and mentioned how much the price of vegetables had gone up. She told me not to bother her with such mundane things. It didn’t matter. She could buy whatever she wanted; the price was irrelevant. I stood there for a long time after she said that, the silence heavy between us. It was then I truly understood the problem. To her, the only things that had meaning were nine-figure business deals. At noon, I packed a lunch and brought it to her office, just as I always did. Her assistant told me she was still in a meeting, so I let myself into her office to wait. Nearly an hour passed before she emerged. “What are you doing here?” she asked, sitting down at her desk. I placed the insulated lunch box in front of her. “It’s lunchtime. I brought you food.” She pushed it aside without opening it, her eyes already fixed on her computer screen. “Don’t bring me lunch anymore. My assistant can order something for me.” I froze. She used to say that eating my food every day was the happiest part of her life. When she first took over the company, she begged me to bring her lunch, complaining that takeout was unhealthy. Now, the look in her eyes was one of barely concealed annoyance. I didn’t even know when she had started to change. I gave a bitter, silent laugh. It didn’t matter. None of this mattered anymore. We were getting a divorce soon anyway. “Alright,” I said. As I turned to leave, she stopped me. “And you shouldn’t be cooking at home anymore either. Just let the household staff handle it.” I looked at her, then nodded. “Okay.” I walked out of her office. As I passed the main bullpen, I paused. “Mr. Everidge is so good to our CEO. He even drove her to work this morning.” “They look so perfect together, like a match made in heaven.” Someone noticed me standing there and coughed loudly, silencing the others. The air went still. They looked at me with cautious, worried expressions, as if afraid I might explode. “Mr. Reed, we were just talking nonsense. Please don’t take it to heart.” I wasn’t angry. I just managed a tight smile. They weren’t wrong. Isabelle and Tristan belonged to the same world. After leaving the Sinclair Group building, I drove to a rundown residential block in an older part of the city. The apartment my parents had left me. Less than five hundred square feet. I hadn’t been back in years. The air was thick with the smell of dust. Looking at the familiar, cheap furniture, memories washed over me. Before her memory returned, this was our home. We were so poor then. Some nights, we shared a single bowl of instant noodles. But Isabelle never complained. She would smile and tell me it was the most delicious thing she’d ever tasted, encouraging me, believing in me. At night, we lay on a small, cramped bed. We couldn’t even turn over without falling off, so we held each other tightly all night long. In those moments, holding her, I felt like the happiest man alive. Then her memory returned, and our world was turned upside down. In the beginning, she would take me to galas and high-society events. But I never fit in. I was awkward and tense while she moved through the crowds with an easy grace. I hated the fake smiles and empty conversations. When she suggested a job for me at the Sinclair Group, a desk job in a suit and tie, I refused. I offered to stay home, to manage the house and take care of her. She agreed. And just like that, I became a stay-at-home husband. She built her empire, and I managed our home. For a while, it worked. I told myself that as long as I could be with the woman I loved, giving up my own dreams was a small price to pay. Then, one day, I overheard her talking to her parents. They called me a freeloader, a man living off their daughter’s money. She didn’t defend me. All my hard work, everything I did to create a perfect home for her, meant nothing. She had grown tired of me… 3 For the next couple of weeks, things were quiet. One evening, Isabelle came home to find me packing boxes. “What are you busy with?” My hands stilled. “Just clearing out some old things we don’t need.” She glanced at the boxes, then her attention drifted back to her phone. If she had looked closer, she would have seen it wasn’t just junk I was clearing out. It was our past. I carried the box downstairs to the trash bins. It was filled with things we had brought from the old apartment. I crouched down and picked up a small, pink stuffed animal. It was the first gift I ever gave her. She loved it so much she couldn’t sleep without it. I picked up a necklace. It cost me six hundred dollars, all my savings at the time. It was her first birthday gift from me. She had been as happy as a child, wearing it every single day. After she returned to her family, she took it off and never wore it again, replacing it with far more expensive jewels. There were so many things like that, each one holding a memory. Now, they were all meaningless. After throwing the box away, I went back upstairs. Isabelle was working in her study. I took a shower and went to bed. I woke up in the middle of the night and turned to look at the woman sleeping beside me. I once loved her so much I would have given my life for her. I swore I would never leave her. I never imagined we would end up here. But she didn’t love me anymore. She was in love with another man. It was time for me to get out of her life. I let out a long breath. Twelve more days until the cooling-off period was over. Twelve more days until we could be officially divorced. I felt nothing but a calm emptiness… Isabelle was busy, rarely home, which made it easier for me to pack the rest of my things. She never asked what I was doing. A few days later, my phone rang while I was taking a nap. It was an offer. The interview I’d had a few days ago at a prestigious hotel had been a success. They wanted me to start as a chef. I asked if they could wait a week. The divorce cooling-off period would be over then. They agreed. I was ecstatic. I truly loved being a chef. The joy of creating something beautiful and delicious for people, of bringing them happiness through food—it gave me a sense of purpose. A week later, I called Isabelle. “Can you be home for dinner tonight?” She was gone before dawn and back late every night. We lived under the same roof but were like strangers. “Is something wrong?” she asked, her tone impatient. “No. I just thought… we haven’t had a meal together in a long time.” She was silent for a moment. “Alright. I’ll be home early tonight.” I smiled. “Okay.” After hanging up, I went to the kitchen and began to prepare the meal. I had just finished the last dish when she walked in. She frowned at me. “Didn’t I tell you not to cook anymore?” I gave her a small, sad smile. “This is the last meal I’ll ever cook for you.” She looked at me, a flicker of confusion in her eyes, but her expression quickly smoothed over. She thought I meant I was finally giving up my place in the kitchen for good. In a way, she was right. She sat down and picked up her chopsticks. Just as she was about to eat, her phone vibrated. She answered. I couldn’t hear the other side, but I saw her brow furrow. “Tristan? Okay. I’ll be right there.” She put her phone away and looked at me. “Something urgent came up. You go ahead and eat.” My hand tightened around my own chopsticks. “Can’t it wait until after we’ve eaten?” “No,” she said without a moment’s hesitation. “Tristan is waiting for me. I can eat when I get back.” I watched her hurry out the door. A bitter laugh escaped my lips. I had spent over three hours preparing this meal. She hadn’t taken a single bite. I wouldn’t be waiting for her to come back. This was the last time. I had planned to talk to her about the divorce over dinner, to end things amicably. But she couldn’t even give me that. I ate alone, in silence. Then I went upstairs, took off my wedding ring, and placed it on the bed next to the divorce agreement. I picked up my suitcase and walked out the door.

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