Author: Momo Chan

In my past life, my wedding car suddenly burst into flames. My fiancé, Ethan Thorne, to save his delicate adopted sister, Serena, who suffered from claustrophobia, cruelly locked me inside the burning vehicle. He carried a pregnant Serena out of the inferno, telling me through the car window, “Serena is pregnant and can’t stand the smoke. You’re strong; just hold on a little longer.” I burned alive inside that car, listening to the crackle of my own flesh, watching their figures disappear, entwined. I died consumed by hatred. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day of our cruise engagement party. Serena had once again fallen into the water, and when she was rescued, her baby bump was clearly visible. This time, facing the pressure from the entire Thorne family and Ethan’s desperate pleas on his knees, I let out a cold laugh and shattered the entire event. I opened my eyes. The salty sea breeze hit my face. The deck was brightly lit, and the champagne tower glittered, reflecting the harsh lights. I looked down at my dry, couture gown, my fingertips digging sharply into my palms. It hurt. Not the agonizing pain of being consumed by fire, but a vivid, stinging pain. I was back. Back at the cruise engagement party for the Thorne-Davies alliance. “Splash–” A loud splash interrupted my thoughts. Followed by a terrified scream: “Serena fell overboard!” I looked up, unsurprised to see my ‘devoted’ fiancé, Ethan Thorne. Without even stopping to take off his jacket, he plunged into the icy seawater. His movements were so frantic, as if a second’s delay would cost him his life. The surrounding socialites and guests instantly gathered, gasps and whispers erupting. “Mr. Thorne is way too concerned about his adopted sister, isn’t he?” “Well, they did grow up together at the orphanage. And I heard Serena’s always been frail.” “But it’s his engagement party! Leaving his actual fiancée high and dry, what’s that about?” I stood my ground, my eyes cold, watching Ethan cradle a drenched Serena as if she were a priceless treasure, bringing her back onto the deck. Serena was wearing a thin white dress, which now clung to her body, soaked through by the seawater. Because of this, her normally flat stomach now had an undeniable curve. Ethan tore off his suit jacket, wrapping it tightly around her, his voice trembling. “Serena, don’t be scared. I’m here.” Serena leaned into his embrace, her face ghost-white, her eyelashes fluttering. One hand instinctively moved to cover her stomach, then she turned her head and retched violently. The gesture was too obvious. The whispers around us instantly died down, and everyone’s gazes became subtly weighted with meaning. Eleanor, Ethan’s mother, pushed through the crowd, her face a thundercloud. “What are you waiting for?! Get Serena to the lower-deck lounge! Don’t let the media get a shot of this!” On my family’s side, my father, Richard Davies, also frowned. He turned to his assistant. “Go. Make sure no media cameras on this cruise get *anything*.” I looked at the puddle on the deck, a slow smile spreading across my lips. Still the same old act. It was like this in my past life too. No matter how scandalous the situation, their first reaction was always to cover it up, then push me out to clean up their mess. “Dr. Davies.” I pushed through the crowd, my voice clear and cold, cutting through the sudden silence on the deck. “If someone isn’t feeling well, don’t bother dragging them downstairs. Let’s examine them right here.”

The ship’s Dr. Davies blinked, instinctively looking at Eleanor. Eleanor’s face tightened. She lowered her voice, a sharp warning in her tone. “Scarlett, it’s your big day. Don’t make a scene.” I met her gaze without flinching. “Precisely *because* it’s my engagement party, we need to get to the bottom of this. Serena is the Thorne family’s adopted daughter, and her status is… unique. Falling into the water and retching at an event like this? Shouldn’t there be a public explanation? What if she has something contagious? Who’s going to explain that to all these VIPs if they get sick?” Ethan held Serena, his brows furrowed deeply. “Scarlett, can’t you see she’s already suffering? Why are you pushing her?” I stared at him, my eyes devoid of warmth. “Am I pushing *her*, or are *you* hiding something?” The words hung in the air, and a deathly silence fell over the deck. Dr. Davies knelt to examine Serena. Serena’s eyelashes fluttered violently, her fingers digging into Ethan’s shirt. I saw it clearly: she’d been awake the whole time, just pretending to be unconscious. After a moment, Dr. Davies removed her hand from Serena’s wrist, her face ghost-white. Eleanor immediately reached out. “What’s wrong? Is she just cold?” Sweat beaded on Dr. Davies’s forehead. She swallowed hard before speaking. “From her pulse and her current state… Serena… she appears to be pregnant.” Pregnant. The word exploded like thunder on the deck. I heard gasps all around me. “Pregnant? Serena doesn’t even have a boyfriend! Where would she get a baby?” “Look how nervous Ethan is… Could it be…?” The whispers surged like a tide, impossible to suppress. Eleanor panicked, her voice sharp. “That’s ridiculous! It’s windy, Dr. Davies, you must be mistaken! Get her out of here!” “Hold on.” I took a step forward, my high heels clicking crisply on the wooden deck. “Mrs. Thorne, if Serena is pregnant, we need to know who the father is, right now. If someone coerced her, or if there’s any hidden relationship, we’ll call the police. This ship hasn’t docked. No one’s getting off.” At the mention of calling the police, Serena finally dropped her act. She abruptly opened her eyes, her gaze bloodshot, tears streaming down her face. Her voice hoarse, she pleaded, “Scarlett, please don’t call the police… It’s my fault, all my fault…” I looked down at her. “Who’s the father? You tell us.” She bit her lower lip, stubbornly avoiding the main point, just burying herself deeper into Ethan’s arms, crying her eyes out, a picture of distress. “Ethan… please don’t say anything… please…” *Ethan*. Such an intimate address. I suddenly felt incredibly sick. I pointed at Ethan. “She’s your *adopted* sister, yet she’s carrying a child with no known father. You’re defending her, telling her not to be scared. Ethan, what are *you* so afraid of?”

Ethan’s Adam’s apple bobbed. He looked at me, then down at Serena, trembling in his arms. The next second, he did something that stunned everyone present. In front of all the elites, the media, and our business partners, he dropped to his knees before me. “Scarlett.” He looked up, his eyes full of pleading. “Serena has always had a hard life, and her health is poor. That night, I had too much to drink… I let you down.” “BOOM,” went the room. Everyone erupted. Phone flashbulbs erupted, flashing wildly. Even with Richard Davies’s people trying to stop them, there was no way to contain the spread of this earth-shattering scandal. “The baby is mine.” Ethan clenched his jaw, admitting it. “But I love you, Scarlett. I’m begging you, for the sake of this child.” I looked at his pathetic figure, kneeling on the ground, and felt nothing but utter absurdity. He was kneeling *to me*, but every single word was for Serena. Serena sobbed, shaking her head, struggling to kneel as well. “No, it’s not Ethan’s fault… it was just that once, I didn’t mean to…” Eleanor’s eyes flickered. She immediately adopted a solemn, almost empathetic expression, her words coming out in a rush, a plan forming. “Scarlett, this has become a mess, but the baby is innocent. You can raise it. You’ll still be Ethan’s wife, his *only* wife. No one will ever take your place!” I slowly turned to Eleanor. “I’ll raise it?” “Yes!” Eleanor seized onto it like a lifeline. “Serena won’t compete with you; she just needs a safe place to stay. After you two marry, Ethan will be a good husband to you, and the Thorne family will take care of all the gossip.” Several Thorne relatives nearby also chimed in, offering their advice. “What old-money family *doesn’t* have a little scandal? Men will be men; sometimes they just… play around.” “If you want to be the lady of the Thorne family, you have to think about the bigger picture.” “Ethan publicly knelt for you. Do you really want to destroy Serena?” I listened to their nauseating remarks and suddenly laughed. My laughter, in the cold air, sounded unusually sharp. They weren’t feeling sorry for *me*. They simply thought that since the scandal was out, I should just quietly take over. To hide Serena’s shame, to secure an heir for the Thorne family, to let Ethan keep up his ‘devoted boyfriend’ act. And even later, I’d have to raise this secret baby for them, pretending nothing had ever happened. In my past life, I actually believed their lies.

In my past life, for the sake of the Thorne-Davies alliance, I swallowed my anger. I thought if I just conceded, Ethan would settle down. After we married, he was indeed attentive and sweet to me. He’d freak out if I even frowned. Until that deliberately caused car accident. My wedding car caught fire, the door jammed shut. I was pinned under the twisted seat, my face covered in blood, reaching out to him. “Ethan, save me…” But he turned and smashed the window on the other side, pulling out Serena, who only had a minor scrape. The fire grew, the thick smoke choking me. I pounded desperately on the car window, staring at him in despair. He stood in the safe zone, watching me struggle in the flames, his eyes devoid of any former warmth. “Scarlett, Serena is pregnant and suffers from claustrophobia; she can’t stand the smoke. You’re strong; just hold on. The fire department will be here any minute.” He just stood there, holding Serena, watching as the flames consumed the entire car. Before I died, through the inferno, I saw Serena, nestled against his shoulder, flash me a triumphant, chilling smirk. It turned out, all his kindness to me was just to keep the Davies family on their side, to make me willingly become Serena’s human shield. Snapping out of my memories, I looked at Ethan, still kneeling, my eyes utterly cold. “You expect me to accept your secret baby with your adopted sister? You expect me to walk into your family as the city’s laughingstock?” I took a step forward, looking down at him. “Ethan Thorne, who do you think you are, to expect me to cover up your mess?” Ethan’s face changed instantly. “Scarlett! I’m on my knees, begging you! What more do you want?!” “What do I want?” I turned, snatched the microphone from the nearby emcee, and cranked the volume to max. “Everyone here today is a witness!” My voice echoed through the cruise ship’s broadcast, across the entire sea. “The Thorne family knew full well that Ethan Thorne and his adopted sister, Serena, were secretly carrying on an affair and getting pregnant, yet they still went through with the alliance with the Davies family! When the truth came out, their first reaction wasn’t to admit fault, but to force me to swallow this insult, to force me to raise his secret baby!” “In their eyes, my only purpose, Scarlett Davies, was to cover up for this disgusting pair!”

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He personally signed the organ donation consent form, diverting the life-saving heart intended for his own daughter to his first love’s son. For seven years of marriage, I concealed my identity as the heiress to a multi-billion dollar empire, content to be the devoted wife who stood by him. He climbed the ladder I built for him, becoming a world-renowned cardiothoracic surgeon, while I became a desperate housewife, unable to even protect my own daughter’s life. “Lily can hold on for another month with life support, but Leo has already been issued three critical condition notices!” He shielded his first love behind him, his voice harsh and accusatory towards me. He thought I would just kneel, begging him to change his mind. But he didn’t know that the prestigious medical group he prided himself on was merely a gift from my hand. The scalpel he wielded with such arrogance was a privilege I had bestowed upon him. Since he mistook my silent endurance for weakness, and offered my daughter’s life to appease the woman he idealized, Then I would personally reclaim everything I gave him, tear down his facade, and ensure he and his ‘true love’ would be ruined, plunging into an abyss of despair!

When Lily’s cardiac arrest alarm blared, Dr. Arthur Sterling was on stage, delivering his acceptance speech for the ‘Medical Innovator of the Year’ award. I sat in the audience, clutching the critical condition notice the hospital had just sent, feeling utterly frozen. “Dr. Sterling, congratulations on your ‘Artificial Cardiopulmonary Circulation System’ winning the Gold Award! Who would you most like to thank at this moment?” The host beamed. Under the spotlight, Arthur in his tailored suit looked utterly charming and composed. He didn’t look at me in the audience. Instead, his gaze drifted to a corner in the second row. Serena Thorne was sitting there. His first love. “The person I most want to thank is a woman who taught me the true weight of life. It’s her resilience that gave me the courage to constantly push the limits of medicine.” The entire hall erupted in applause. Serena’s eyes welled up, and she covered her mouth, her gaze filled with tears of happiness. Watching this scene, my stomach churned, a wave of nausea washing over me. My phone vibrated. It was Dr. Evans, Lily’s attending physician. “Ms. Hayes, the donor heart has arrived at the hospital, but… Vice Director Sterling just used his top-level clearance to reallocate that heart to the patient in VIP Room 8!” I abruptly stood up, my chair scraping harshly against the floor. Heads turned from all around. Ignoring their curious stares, I practically ran out, my high heels clicking furiously. VIP Room 8. That was Leo’s room, Serena’s son. Half a month ago, Lily’s match was successful. I was overjoyed, thinking my daughter was finally saved. Arthur had hugged me, saying, “Evelyn, our daughter is saved. I’ll personally perform her surgery.” But now, he had personally given away Lily’s only hope for survival. When I arrived at the hospital, Arthur was standing outside VIP Room 8. He had taken off his award ceremony suit, changing into sterile scrubs, and was softly comforting a crying Serena. “Don’t worry, the donor heart is very healthy. The success rate of the surgery is over ninety percent. Leo will soon be able to run around like any normal child.” “Arthur, thank you… Without you, my son and I really wouldn’t be able to live.” Serena leaned into his embrace, sobbing uncontrollably. I walked over, raised my hand, and slapped Arthur hard across the face. *Smack!* The crisp sound of the slap echoed through the hallway. Arthur’s head snapped to the side. Serena shrieked and immediately shielded him. “Evelyn! What the hell are you doing?!” Arthur turned back, his eyes blazing with fury. I stared at him, my voice trembling uncontrollably, “That heart was Lily’s! How dare you give it to someone else!”

Arthur frowned, a flicker of discomfort in his eyes, but it was quickly replaced by cold indifference. “Evelyn, calm down. Leo has acute heart failure; he’ll die if he doesn’t get a transplant immediately. Lily’s condition is relatively stable; she’s supported by a bypass machine and can perfectly wait for the next donor.” Stable? I scoffed, a bitter laugh escaping my lips, tears splashing onto the back of my hand. “She was in pain all night yesterday and couldn’t sleep. This morning, she even coughed up blood! You call that stable?” I grabbed the collar of his scrubs, my nails digging into his flesh. “Arthur, Lily is your biological daughter! Are you really going to kill your own daughter for an outsider’s child?!” Serena trembled beside him, tears streaming down her face like a broken dam. “Ms. Hayes, every fault is mine. I begged Arthur to save Leo… Leo is only seven years old, he hasn’t even truly seen the world yet…” She started to kneel. Arthur pulled her back, protectively holding her behind him, then turned to glare at me, his eyes blazing with fury. “Evelyn, that’s enough! Serena is a single mother, struggling enough as it is. Why do you have to be so relentless? What happened to your kindness and generosity?” Kindness and generosity. I looked at the man I had loved for seven years and suddenly felt he was utterly foreign. Seven years ago, he was a struggling medical student, and I was the heiress who hid my identity. For his words, “I want to save lives,” I willingly devoted myself to him, quietly paving the way for him using my family’s connections. His entry into the prestigious St. Mary’s Medical Center, his access to those core research projects—all of it was funded and facilitated by me. Yet, he believed it all came from his own hard work. “Give Lily back her heart,” I released him, my voice cold as ice. “Impossible.” Arthur adjusted his collar, resuming the air of a superior Vice Director. “I am the hospital’s Vice Director and a leading expert in cardiothoracic surgery. From a medical ethics standpoint, the patient with the more severe condition gets priority for the donor organ. I’ve already signed off on this, and I’m about to go into surgery.” He paused, a hint of condescension in his voice. “Don’t worry, I’ll arrange the best conservative treatment for Lily. When the next donor becomes available, I’ll personally perform her surgery.” “The next donor? Lily’s blood type is Rh-negative! Do you have any idea how rare a match is? We waited three years for this heart!” I shrieked. Serena, hiding behind Arthur, softly sobbed, “Ms. Hayes, I’m so sorry… When Leo gets better, I’ll make sure he works tirelessly to repay your kindness…” Repay? A ‘repayment’ bought with my daughter’s life? I find it utterly repulsive! I pulled out my phone and dialed a number. Arthur scoffed, “Who are you going to call now? Your socialite friends? Evelyn, this is a hospital, not a playground for your tantrums.” The call connected. I ignored him and spoke into the receiver. “Activate top-level clearance. Lock down all operating rooms at St. Mary’s Medical Center. Notify the legal department to revoke all of Dr. Sterling’s medical privileges.” Arthur froze, then laughed as if he’d heard the most absurd joke. “Evelyn, have you lost your mind? Who do you think you are? Even the Director wouldn’t dare to use St. Mary’s top-level clearance so casually, you—” Before he could finish, the elevator doors dinged open at the end of the hallway.

A line of security personnel in sharp black suits streamed out, quickly securing the corridor. Close behind them, Director Thompson of St. Mary’s Medical Center hurried over, wiping sweat from his brow. The Legal Director, Ms. Davis, followed. Arthur stepped forward, his brows deeply furrowed, “Director, what brings you here? I’m about to perform an emergency transplant surgery, and the patient’s family is causing a scene here. Could you ask security to escort her out?” Director Thompson didn’t even glance at him. He walked straight to me and bowed deeply. “Chairwoman, I am so sorry. This is due to our management’s oversight, allowing you to be distressed.” Chairwoman. At that title, a dead silence fell over the corridor. Arthur’s expression froze. He looked at Director Thompson, then at me, as if he’d seen a ghost. “Director, what did you call her? Her name is Evelyn Hayes, she’s just a housewife…” Ms. Davis stepped forward, cutting him off coldly. “Dr. Sterling, Ms. Evelyn Hayes is the absolute controlling shareholder, holding eighty percent of St. Mary’s Medical Group. This hospital is her private property.” Serena’s legs gave out, and she collapsed onto the floor. Arthur staggered back two steps in disbelief, pointing at me, his finger trembling. “You… you’re the Chairwoman of St. Mary’s? How is that possible! You, who supposedly had to budget carefully for every handbag…” I looked at his comical expression, finding it utterly sarcastic. “If I hadn’t been so ‘careful,’ how could I let you comfortably play the role of a self-made medical authority?” I walked over, took a document from Marcus, and threw it squarely in Arthur’s face. “Arthur, you’re suspended.” The papers scattered across the floor. Director Thompson announced emotionlessly, “Dr. Sterling, it has been verified that you severely violated protocol by privately altering the donor allocation system without the Ethics Committee’s approval. Effective immediately, all your clinical duties are revoked, and you are subject to investigation.” Arthur’s face instantly drained of color. He lunged at me, but the security personnel quickly subdued him. “Evelyn! You can’t do this! Leo has already been anesthetized inside, he can’t wait! You’re committing murder!” I looked down at him. “Me, committing murder? Arthur, you were the first to sacrifice my daughter’s life to appease your first love.” I turned to Director Thompson. “Where is the heart?” “Ms. Hayes, the donor organ has been urgently intercepted and is currently preserved in a thermal container. Ms. Lily’s operating room is prepared, and the top-tier specialist team from headquarters will arrive in five minutes.” I nodded, no longer looking at Arthur, and turned to walk towards Lily’s room. Behind me, Serena’s heart-wrenching cries echoed. “Arthur! Please save Leo! You promised me!” Arthur struggled like a caged animal. “Evelyn! Come at me! Don’t touch the child!” I paused, but didn’t look back. Come at you? Don’t worry, I will collect every single debt you owe Lily, with interest.

Lily’s surgery lasted a full ten hours. I sat outside the operating room, staring at the red light above the door, feeling completely drained. My assistant, Marcus Hill, handed me a hot coffee. “Ms. Hayes, Arthur and Serena caused a scene at the Medical Affairs Office and have now been escorted out by security. Serena fainted twice in the hospital lobby, attracting quite a few media outlets.” I took the coffee and scoffed. “What else can she do besides cry?” “Also,” Marcus adjusted his gold-rimmed glasses, “I’ve found something about what you asked me to investigate.” He handed me a tablet. On the screen was Arthur’s financial record for the past two years. “Dr. Sterling has abused his position over the past few years, accepting tens of millions in kickbacks from pharmaceutical representatives. And…” Marcus paused, his tone turning somewhat contemptuous. “He not only bought Serena a lavish apartment worth three million dollars, but he also secretly transferred five million dollars from a medical trust fund specifically for Lily into Serena Thorne’s account.” I stared at the damning transfer records, my fingernails digging into my palms. Oh, Arthur, you truly are something. You used the power I gave you to enrich yourself, and you used my daughter’s life-saving money to support the woman you idealized. “Call the police,” my voice was icy. “File charges against him for embezzlement and misappropriation of funds. Transfer all evidence to the Economic Crimes Unit.” “Yes,” Marcus nodded, then hesitated slightly. “However, Serena seems to have been prepared. She just posted a lengthy article on social media, and it’s already trending.” I took the tablet and clicked on the trending topic. The hashtag was glaring: #HeiressStealsHeart I clicked it open to Serena’s post. Every word dripped with feigned sorrow. *I am a desperate single mother. My son, Leo, is seven years old and suffers from severe heart failure. We finally found a matching donor heart, but just an hour before surgery, it was forcibly taken away by a powerful wealthy woman.* *Because her daughter also needed a heart, she bribed hospital executives, brutally seizing my son’s only chance at life.* *My Leo is currently in the ICU, fighting for his life.* *Can money truly allow one to do anything? Is the life of an ordinary person not a life?* The post included a pitiful photo of Leo, covered in tubes, and another of her kneeling on the ground, weeping. The comment section had been overrun by angry netizens. *She’s so wicked! Can money really let you steal someone else’s heart?* *This is practically murder! Investigate this hospital! Investigate this rich woman!* *My heart goes out to this mother. That rich woman who stole the heart will surely get her karma!* Some people had even doxxed my identity, and online abuse was rampant. Marcus frowned, “Ms. Hayes, our PR department has already drafted a statement. Should we release it immediately?” “Not yet.” I tossed the tablet aside, my eyes cold. “Let her jump first. The further she falls, the more shattered she’ll be.” Just then, the operating room door opened. The lead surgeon walked out, took off his mask, and let out a long sigh of relief. “Ms. Hayes, the surgery was a complete success. Ms. Lily made it through.” At that moment, the tension I had held for ten long hours finally snapped, and tears streamed down my face uncontrollably. I covered my face, sobbing. Lily was alive. Now, it’s time for those who wanted her dead to face their own hell.

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On the fiftieth day after I donated a kidney to my mother-in-law, my husband, Marcus Thorne, had also been gone for a month. My surgical wound was severely infected and festering, but after emptying my pockets, I couldn’t even afford the cheapest anti-inflammatory medicine. As I lingered outside the hospital, a stranger stopped me. “Madam, I’m Kevin, Mr. Thorne’s new assistant. He asked me to deliver the restaurant’s booking confirmation for your review.” I stood in the cold wind, my mind a complete blank. Seeing that I didn’t take it, Kevin simply opened the document respectfully and held it out. “Tomorrow night is your and Mr. Thorne’s two-year wedding anniversary. The restaurant is already set up.” “Mr. Thorne’s exact words were, ‘As long as Scarlett Vance is happy, a few hundred million dollars is worth it.’” But I wasn’t Scarlett Vance. I dug my nails into my palms and spoke softly. “Got it. See you tomorrow night.” The next evening, I arrived at the most luxurious restaurant in the city. A gentle-looking woman holding a cat approached me. She looked at my pale face and spoke with pity. “You’re the girl Marcus sponsors, right? He said you gave up a kidney to save your family. Such a kind and dutiful girl.”

I forced a smile that was uglier than a cry, playing along with her words. “Yes, Marcus… he’s kind-hearted.” She didn’t notice the strangeness in my voice, only looked at me with more sympathy. My gaze fell on her neck, where a magnificent pink diamond necklace sparkled. My breathing hitched for a second. I had seen this necklace before. Three months ago, Marcus brought it home, all mysterious, and locked it in his safe. Curious, I reached out to touch it, but he snapped at me fiercely. “Don’t touch it! It’s for a big client, something worth tens of millions. If you break it, can you afford to pay?” At the time, I just thought he was stressed from work and in a bad mood, and I softly comforted him. Thinking back now, it was truly laughable. Gritting my teeth against the pain from my waist wound, I searched the banquet hall for Marcus. Instead, I saw several faces both familiar and strange. Several of Marcus’s uncles and relatives were in the center of the banquet hall, with plastered-on smiles, chatting with the celebrities and socialites around them. Five years ago, when Marcus and I got married, he claimed his hometown was too far for relatives to travel, so we didn’t even have a proper wedding reception. But today, for his anniversary with Scarlett, he’d invited all of the Thorne relatives. Scarlett saw me looking around and explained with a smile. “Marcus went to pick up his parents; they’ll be here any minute.” Hearing that, I froze for a moment, then gave a self-deprecating laugh. Marcus’s mother, Brenda, was suffering from end-stage kidney failure, and the doctor said only a kidney transplant could save her. Without a moment’s hesitation, I lay on the operating table and gave her one of my kidneys. After being discharged, I dragged my ailing body to wash and cook for them, treating them with the devotion I would my own parents. A month ago, Brenda held my hand, tears welling in her eyes, saying she was going to a nursing home out of state for rehabilitation therapy. “Evelyn, that place is a closed facility; to prevent infection, phones aren’t allowed. You just focus on recovering, don’t worry about us.” Marcus’s father, Arthur, chimed in from the side. “Yes, you’ve sacrificed so much for this family; we can’t burden you anymore.” Not only did I believe them, but to gather what they called the expensive therapy fees, I secretly went to the black market to sell my blood three times in one month, without Marcus knowing. The last time, I almost bled to death on the street. Brenda was casually using my kidney, taking the money I earned selling my blood, to attend her son’s wedding anniversary with another woman. Scarlett didn’t notice the immense hatred beneath my pale face and enthusiastically supported me. “Come, let me introduce you to Marcus’s friends.” She led me to the center of the banquet hall. As soon as we approached, a well-groomed socialite began flattering Scarlett. “Scarlett is truly blessed! Mr. Thorne isn’t just young and accomplished, taking his company public, he’s also spoiled you into becoming the happiest woman in the entire city.” Several socialites immediately agreed. “Exactly! I heard that in the two years you’ve been married, Mr. Thorne hasn’t even let you handwash a single piece of clothing.” Two years of marriage? So, in the third year of our marriage, he’d already started another life. Clutching my bleeding lower back, I felt like I was about to collapse. In the past month, Marcus would occasionally send texts. “Evelyn, take good care of your wound, don’t wander around.” “The company is in closed development for a new, crucial project. Wait for me to come back.” These caring words, now, felt like venomous snakes, coiling around my heart, squeezing the breath out of me. He said his company was facing bankruptcy, that he could only eat crackers to stave off hunger every day, that the cash flow had broken, asking me to mortgage our only property to fill the hole. I poured everything I had into it, taking on massive debts to support him. It turned out I had never truly known the man I shared my bed with for five years.

“Mr. Thorne is truly a big spender; he just acquired that prime piece of land downtown without batting an eye.” “That’s not all, I heard he even put fifty percent of his company’s shares in Scarlett Vance’s name. That’s true love!” Listening to the women’s envious voices, it was then that I truly woke up. All those massive debts Marcus spoke of were carefully woven lies. Scarlett’s face was flushed with shyness as she gently wiggled the massive diamond engagement ring on her hand. “Oh, stop teasing me.” A rich heiress grabbed her hand enviously. “Scarlett, don’t be modest. That island wedding two years ago, costing tens of millions of dollars, still hasn’t been surpassed!” So, they even had a wedding. Five years ago, I held my ID card, overjoyed at the thought of marrying him. But Marcus brushed me off with just one sentence: early stages of entrepreneurship required cutting costs. No wedding, no reception, no ring. Only a marriage license and a promise. “When I have money, I’ll definitely give you the most magnificent wedding in the world.” I stood amidst the elegantly dressed crowd, like a misplaced ghost. They were discussing Marcus’s financial empire, asking Scarlett for tips on how to keep a man. Scarlett shared generously. “Actually, I’m not good with money.” “Marcus set all the passwords for his bank cards to my birthday. He said his money was my money, and I could spend it freely.” There was another gasp of amazement. “Oh my god, that’s so romantic!” “Whether a man loves you or not depends on if he’s willing to spend money on you. Scarlett, you truly married the right man.” Scarlett smiled even sweeter. “He just loves doing things like this. Last month, he air-shipped hundreds of thousands of dollars worth of my favorite French black roses, and a while ago, he bought me an entire vineyard just to store my favorite red wines.” Yet, just the day before yesterday, Marcus was complaining to me about being broke in a text message. He said an important client needed to be ‘handled,’ and he desperately needed a hundred thousand dollars. He said he was at his wit’s end, begging me to find a way. I believed him, and I was even prepared to go to the black market again today to sell my blood one more time. Just then, Scarlett’s phone rang. Before answering, she handed me the snow-white cat she was holding. “Could you please hold Mimi for me?” The cat wore a valuable collar, its fur perfectly groomed; it was obviously looked after a hundred times better than me. Scarlett put the call on speakerphone in front of everyone. Marcus’s doting voice came through. “Sweetheart, is the air conditioning in the ballroom too strong? Go grab a shawl, don’t catch a chill.” Scarlett responded playfully. “I know, you’re such a nag.” Marcus chuckled on the other end. “I’m downstairs with Brenda and Arthur picking out your gift; we’ll be right up. You just wait for me.” The call ended, and all the women in the room gasped with envy. “Oh my god, Mr. Thorne is worth hundreds of millions and still so thoughtful—he’s a total wife-pampering maniac!” “A once-in-a-lifetime good man like that is impossible to find!” I held the cat and laughed, tears almost streaming down my face. A month ago, I had a massive hemorrhage after my kidney donation surgery and was in the ICU for two whole days and nights. Marcus merely had a nurse relay a message to me. “The company has an urgent meeting, and he can’t get away.” At the time, I believed him completely, even feeling guilty for not being able to share his burden. It turned out he wasn’t busy; he was just giving all his thoughtfulness and pampering to another woman.

I retreated into the shadows of the corner, holding the cat. The cat seemed to like me, gently rubbing itself against me in my arms. Inadvertently, I looked down and was surprised to find that what hung around its neck was not a regular pendant at all, but a blood-red gemstone, crimson throughout. My pupils constricted instantly; I recognized it at once. This blood-red gemstone was my mother’s relic. Three years ago, my mom was in a car accident, and on her deathbed, she personally placed this blood-red gemstone into my hand. She said it was a protective charm that would keep me safe for life. Later, Marcus said he’d been unlucky lately and needed something to ward off evil. Without hesitation, I gave him the only memento my mother left me, as proof of my love for him. My hands trembled as I touched the inner side of the gem. There was a small, knife-carved initial ‘E’ for Evelyn there. My mother had personally carved it for me when she was alive. This was the only memento my mother left in this world, and now it was a cat’s collar. Scarlett finished her mingling, came over with a glass of champagne, and sat beside me. She gently stroked the cat’s fur, a hint of pride in her voice. “Mimi was a bit scared recently and couldn’t sleep well at night, so Marcus specifically went to the black market and paid a high price for this blood-red gemstone, saying it was to ward off evil for Mimi.” For a cat’s sleep, he could casually trample on my deceased mother’s relic? I bit down hard on my tongue until I tasted blood, just to regain a shred of sanity. I forced myself to manage a smile. “He… he’s truly thoughtful.” Scarlett looked at my old clothes with pity. “Yes, that’s just how he is. He appears cold, but he’s actually very attentive.” “A year ago, I was feeling down because of my period, and he immediately dropped all his work and took me overseas for half a year of travel…” That year, Marcus told me he’d offended local criminal gangs, was forced to borrow money, even had a hit out on him, and had to go to another state to lie low. He told me not to tell anyone, to keep it strictly confidential. I believed him. Living in constant fear, I worked four jobs to pay off his so-called debts. One late night, while I was working a part-time job at a barbecue stand with my son Leo, I got into a conflict with a customer. To protect Leo, two of my ribs were broken, but I didn’t even dare to tell Marcus, afraid of distracting him. It turned out that while I was being beaten half to death, he was overseas with his mistress, enjoying the sun and sand. Scarlett didn’t seem to have any intention of taking the cat back, turning instead to chat with her best friend. “Look, why is Mimi so well-behaved today? She’s usually so fierce; she scratches anyone she doesn’t know.” I lowered my gaze, stroking the cat’s soft fur, and replied softly. “Maybe… I have a familiar scent on me.” Scarlett didn’t think much of it and said happily. “That’s great! You hold her for me, I’m going to touch up my makeup and I’ll be right back.” She lifted her skirt, gracefully gliding towards the powder room. I held the cat, my gaze fixed on the center of the stage. There, a massive flower wall made of the finest red roses was erected, bearing several dazzling, prominent letters. “Marcus Thorne loves Scarlett Vance, forever and always.” For his lies, I sold my blood, I donated a kidney. Yet he used my flesh and blood to throw such a grand ceremony for another woman.

My phone vibrated frantically in my pocket. It was a FaceTime request from Brenda. I immediately answered. On the screen, Brenda wore a luxurious haute couture gown I’d never seen before, dripping with jewels. Her face showed no trace of illness; in fact, thanks to good care, she was radiant. “Evelyn, why haven’t you transferred this month’s twenty thousand dollars for the nursing home yet?” I looked at her hypocritical face, not even having the energy to humor her. “No money.” She raised her voice. “No money? I don’t care what you do, you must transfer the money to me by tonight! I need it urgently here!” As soon as she finished speaking, she impatiently hung up the video call. I expressionlessly opened SnapChat. Ten minutes ago, she had sent me a voice message. “Evelyn, I just had a kidney transplant, and my body’s having a strong rejection reaction. The doctor said I need to buy a special foreign medicine; it’s very expensive, fifty thousand dollars. Go get a loan online and transfer it to me right away!” This entire family of vicious bloodsuckers! I trembled with rage but didn’t reply. Soon, a second voice message popped up. I opened it, and it was Brenda’s malicious cursing. “You ungrateful wretch! I spoiled you for nothing! My son marrying you was the worst luck imaginable! You won’t even give me fifty thousand dollars, you just want me to die! You ungrateful wretch, karma will get you!” Just then, Scarlett returned, lifting her skirt, her face with freshly applied, elegant makeup, smiling brightly. As she stood next to me, her phone rang. I clearly heard Marcus’s voice from the other end of the line. “Sweetheart, Brenda, to celebrate our anniversary, said she’s giving you a house in an excellent school zone as a gift! The transfer contract has already been signed!” It felt like something exploded in my brain. That house in the school district was supposed to be the only financial security my parents left for my five-year-old son, Leo! Brenda had always held onto the property deed, claiming she was keeping it safe so I wouldn’t lose it. I had asked her for it countless times, but she always made excuses. I never imagined she would take my son’s house and give it to his mistress! Scarlett quickly thanked her. “Thank you, Brenda! You really dote on me.” Brenda’s haughty and smug voice clearly came through the phone. “You deserve all of this! Our Thorne family daughter-in-law deserves the best! Alright, I’m not saying anything more, we’re coming up in the elevator now!” The call ended, and Scarlett reached out, just about to take the cat back. From her peripheral vision, she caught Marcus, Brenda, and Arthur stepping out of the elevator, and she immediately went to greet them with joy. I still held the cat wearing my mother’s relic. I looked in their direction and whispered softly, in a voice only I could hear. “Your wedding anniversary? I’m definitely giving you a big gift.” Marcus, in a perfectly tailored haute couture suit, escorted an equally radiant Scarlett towards the stage. All the lights in the hall began to focus on them. I walked onto the stage from the other side, still holding the cat. Just as Marcus picked up the microphone, ready to begin his heartfelt confession, I snatched the microphone from the host and calmly spoke. “Marcus, how is Brenda enjoying my kidney?”

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That year, when our relationship was at its worst, David cheated on me with a college student. The girl Photoshopped intimate photos of me with other men and sent them to provoke me. I went straight to her school, grabbed her by the hair, and beat her in the street. The crowd grew larger and larger. No one noticed an out-of-control car hurtling directly towards us. In that critical moment, David shoved Addison aside, leaving me to collapse in a pool of blood. As the agonizing pain spread through my body, I could no longer deceive myself. David, who once defied his family for me and promised to never leave my side… He truly had fallen for someone else. Ten years of love, now just bitter strangers. Perhaps I should have let go much earlier, instead of tormenting each other until we became utterly detestable. That was my last thought before losing consciousness. After surgery, I lay in the hospital for a week. The ward door opened, and my eyes automatically went to it. It was my son, Stockton. “Mom.” Stockton was only seven, but his small face held a maturity beyond his years. He called my name, his lips pressed thin, then handed me a signed divorce agreement: “This is what I had a lawyer draft for you. The terms are most favorable to you. When I gave it to Dad, Addison had just twisted her ankle. He was too worried to even glance at it and signed it immediately.” “While Dad still feels guilty, you can get more from the divorce. Sign it, Mom, stop acting out.”

A bitter taste rose in my heart, but I had no strength to retort. I got together with David when I was seventeen. My biological father was in prison for murder, and my stepfather was a gambling addict. That troubled upbringing meant David’s mother, Eleanor Smith, adamantly refused to accept me. To be with me, David endured severe physical punishment from his family. He broke ties with his family and lived with me in a cramped small rental apartment, promising me a better life. And he truly delivered. The once arrogant wealthy heir delivered food, worked as a salesman, and took on every odd job for me. To surprise me on my birthday, he even secretly worked hauling cement at a construction site after classes in college, leaving him with a permanent shoulder injury. When Stockton was three, our careers began to take off. Eleanor Smith, unable to resist David, finally let us come home. After enduring such difficult times, David’s heart changed. When I discovered his affair with Addison, I was in a daze for an entire day. Anger, fear, disgust, pain… all these emotions intertwined in my heart, intensifying both love and hate. I started creating endless drama. When David arranged huge fireworks for her, I went to her university and publicly called her out for her shamelessness, for breaking up a family. When David gave her credit for a project I had worked tirelessly on to bolster her resume, I denounced them as a disgusting pair in a meeting, a rotten pot with a rotten lid. When David bought her top-tier luxury jewelry and dresses, I cut up the dresses and called the police, demanding she return the gifts. The more I created a scene, the more David sympathized with her, and the more he felt compelled to compensate her many times over. The next time I publicly humiliated Addison, David rushed over to support her. He lit a cigarette, his eyes so cold they seemed devoid of emotion, and asked me: “Are you done making a scene? I told you, Addison is just a bit childish; no matter what, she won’t shake your position.” “You are my only wife. What more do you have to be unsatisfied about?” Back then, I thought I had to cling to this marriage, no matter how rotten, to make Addison an invisible mistress forever. But now, I just felt so tired… Seeing that I hadn’t signed, Stockton spoke again: “Mom, Addison is a better fit for Dad than you are. They look more like a family.” As if to confirm his words, he pulled out his phone and opened Addison’s Twitter, handing it to me. Addison’s Twitter was very active, filled with pictures of her happiness every day. There were gifts from David, photos of them together, and sweet moments from their vacations. The latest post had just been updated. In the Live photo, David had his sleeves rolled up, applying medicine to her. His usually defiant eyes were now incredibly gentle. In the background, I could hear his voice, full of doting affection, saying, “Of course I’ll be by your side forever.” The caption read: [With you, I don’t have to grow up.] After the car accident, the rescue team arrived quickly. David shielded Addison, and she only got a scratch. Even so, he was incredibly distressed, mobilizing all the resources of a private hospital for her to rest and recover. Meanwhile, during my week in the hospital, he never came once. The only news I got from him was when my attending doctor discussed my condition. David listened quietly, then coldly replied, “As long as she’s not dead,” and didn’t ask again. My heart felt like it was being pricked by thousands of fine needles, the pain gradually spreading through my limbs. I finally gave up, my trembling fingers signing the divorce agreement, and booked a flight to leave in half a month. Ten years of love and hate were too heavy, too painful, so I gave it all up. David, I release you, and I release myself.

After deciding to divorce, I clearly knew I couldn’t, and wouldn’t, fight for Stockton’s custody. After all, I temporarily lacked the ability to provide him with educational resources comparable to the Williams family. For this, I specifically set aside half a month, hoping to spend more time with him. Stockton’s first wish was to visit Monkey Mountain Zoo again. Tickets there were only two dollars, and the facilities were rudimentary. When David and I were broke, we often took him there to play. This wish wasn’t hard to fulfill, but I didn’t expect to run into David and Addison there. “Ms. Scarlett, did you find out David and I were here and follow us deliberately?” Addison’s eyes held thinly veiled contempt as she scanned Stockton and me. “And you even brought your child to compete for attention. How pathetic…” She could speak so carelessly because she knew David would support her. In the past, I would have certainly engaged her in a war of words. But now that I had decided to leave, who David liked or who he brought to relive memories had nothing to do with me. I calmly lowered my eyes, ignoring David’s implied warning and impatient gaze behind her, and led Stockton around them. But I underestimated Addison’s malice. As I was feeding the monkeys, Addison grabbed a small monkey’s paw and violently threw it off the fence. The mother monkey was enraged and immediately attacked us. I barely dodged its claws, and before I could steady myself, Addison shoved me hard from behind, sending me sprawling towards the fence. I quickly grabbed her wrist and pulled her in with me. Addison’s sharp screams echoed in my ears. When we were rescued, both our necks and arms were covered in monkey scratches. “David…” Addison, like an aggrieved child, threw herself into David’s arms, exposing the marks on her wrist from where I pulled her. “I just said a few words to Ms. Scarlett, and she retaliated by pulling me down too… I’m in so much pain…” David held her, gently patting and coaxing her. The tenderness and warmth in his eyes, when they landed on me, turned into suppressed anger and disappointment: “Scarlett, apologize!” He just believed her… Without even needing to hear my explanation, he was convinced I was to blame. A prolonged, stinging pain rose in my heart, making my fingertips tremble. “I won’t apologize,” I suppressed the ache in my heart, raising my eyes to firmly confront David. “She pushed me first; she got what she deserved.” “Truly the daughter of a murderer, lying without batting an eyelid,” David’s eyes were so cold they seemed devoid of emotion. “Addison is only nineteen. Though a bit childish, she’s inherently pure-hearted, unlike your twisted, calculating mind!” Those words were like a sharp knife, piercing deep into my heart. Indeed, those who once loved each other know best where to stab to inflict the most pain. It was David who, when I was shamed about my background, once cupped my face and earnestly told me: “Scarlett is the best Scarlett. You’re not just someone’s daughter. I know better than anyone what kind of person you are.” Now it was him, in front of our child, returning that very humiliation to me. Humiliation and stinging pain collided in my chest. I finally couldn’t bear it anymore, my eyes red as I questioned him aloud: “Do you have any shame saying that, David? She’s nineteen, so she can’t harm anyone?” “But I was only seventeen when I was with you! Was I born evil?!” “I have no shame? You were seventeen when you got with me, so you had a lot of shame, did you? If you had any shame, would you have thrown yourself at me?” David spoke slowly, every word punctuated, the contempt in his eyes tearing away my last shred of dignity. In that instant, it felt like a thousand arrows pierced my heart. Those words hurt too much. So much that I could barely stand, my face instantly turning deathly pale, my mind completely blank. What David said was true. When I was seventeen, I escaped that hellish home with him, avoided the fate of being married off by my mother for money, and successfully got into college. Because I felt so insecure, I proactively tried to hold onto him by giving myself to him. Back then, David didn’t touch me. He held me all night, his tears burning my heart, making it ache. He told me again and again that I didn’t need to do that, that he would cherish me and be good to me for life. Now… to protect another woman, he actually used that incident to mock me…

I never apologized to Addison. Stockton stood up for me, recounting the entire incident, but David dismissed it as a lie Stockton told to defend me. “Look at the wonderful son you’ve raised!” David pointed at Stockton, angrily questioning me. “So young, yet he lies without batting an eyelid. Are you trying to turn him into a murderer too?!” Addison’s cries continued without end, tugging at David’s sleeve and repeatedly complaining of pain. To appease her, David had me locked in the enclosure. The mother monkey, still furious, pounced on me. Its sharp claws tore fiercely across my arm, which I used to shield my face, leaving numerous bloody marks. The excruciating pain made me clench my jaw, suppressing a scream that caught in my throat, but my spine trembled involuntarily. It hurt so much… Stockton was still a child. Seeing my frantic, desperate attempts to escape, he burst into tears, struggling to get me out, but David’s men forcibly held him back. “Stockton, look closely! This is the consequence of harming others and lying! Don’t be as vile as your mother!” David finished coldly, then, taking Addison’s hand—who was smugly sticking her tongue out at me—he turned and left. I was locked in the enclosure for an entire night. The next morning, when the staff let me out, my arms were practically shredded, and my face bore several shallow and deep claw marks. Stockton had already been taken away by David. I was in extreme pain, my whole body trembling as I treated my wounds. Dragging my body, which was numb with exhaustion, I stumbled home. It’ll be okay. It’ll pass soon. I bit down hard on my lower lip, reassuring myself repeatedly. Soon I can leave… just a little longer… Because I had “misguided” Stockton, David sent him to the old mansion. It wasn’t until a week later that I received news from him. Stockton’s second wish was to eat a savory meat pie, the kind I often made for him and his father when we were struggling. When I took the meat pie to the old mansion, the servants stopped me. They awkwardly explained that Addison, as Stockton’s tutor, was giving him extra lessons, and I shouldn’t disturb them. Helpless, I could only ask them to deliver the meat pie on my behalf. But to my shock, that afternoon, I received news that Stockton was hospitalized due to an allergic reaction to the meat pie! Stockton was allergic to seafood, but there was no seafood in my meat pie… What went wrong… I was in a panic. When I arrived at the hospital, Stockton had just been stabilized. His little face was pale and bluish, and my heart clenched with pain, bringing tears to my eyes. “Ms. Scarlett, your acting is superb. It’s a shame you didn’t become an actress,” Addison pushed open the door, saw me, and immediately launched into an aggressive accusation. “Just because David ignored you and wouldn’t let you see Stockton, you put seafood in his meat pie to make him allergic? That’s such a vile trick, isn’t it?” Filled with irritation and worry, I had no intention of arguing with her, only muttering a low “Watch your mouth!” Regardless of the fact that I had already given up on David and was about to leave, even if I were still clinging to my position as Mrs. David, I would never harm my own child! “Is Addison wrong?” David followed Addison in, his voice low and full of anger, yanking me forcefully out of the ward. “Today at the old mansion, Stockton only ate the meat pie you sent. What more do you have to explain?!” “Using our child for attention, Scarlett, you don’t deserve to be a mother! You don’t even deserve to be human!” My wrist was red from his grip, and the unhealed wounds tore open, making my fingers tremble uncontrollably. Yet this pain was less than a tenth of what I felt inside. He actually believed I fed Stockton seafood just to put on a show! In his heart, I was really that despicable! Indignation and worry filled my heart. My eyes stung with anger as I gritted my teeth and said: “I told you it wasn’t me! Stockton is my child, how could I possibly…” David didn’t listen to my explanation. His angry eyes darkened, and he had his bodyguards push me downstairs, forbidding me from visiting. After multiple unsuccessful attempts, I had to sit by the fountain downstairs, hoping to find a chance to go up and see Stockton. However, I didn’t get my chance; instead, Addison showed up, wearing a smug look.

“Feeling down, Scarlett? David just doesn’t believe you.” Addison leaned closer, her eyes openly provocative. “You and that worthless child of yours… you don’t mean much to David, do you?” In an instant, it clicked. It was her! I suppressed an almost overwhelming rage and asked, “Was it you? Did you put seafood in the meat pie?” “It was me, so what? I…” Before Addison could finish, I slapped her hard across the face. My palm was numb and trembling, but I didn’t feel it, only staring intently at Addison, wanting to tear her apart. I could tolerate her usual targeting of me. I had decided to leave, and I would tolerate what I could, refusing to get entangled with her. But Stockton was my bottom line! Addison didn’t expect me to strike. She froze for a full two seconds, clutching her face, her beautiful features contorting into a snarl. She raised her hand to strike back, but when she caught sight of someone behind me, her movement abruptly stopped. “David…” She changed her expression in a second, putting on a tearful, on the verge of crying look, and threw herself into David’s arms. “I saw Ms. Scarlett lingering downstairs, so I thought she was worried about Stockton and came to persuade her, but then she suddenly hit me…” “A vicious woman like her, who would even harm her own child to compete for attention, how could she truly care about Stockton? She just wants an opportunity to put on a show of maternal love.” David hugged Addison, comforting her. His gaze, usually cold, turned icy as he looked at me. “Slap her back. This time, I won’t hold it against you!” He trusted her that much… Time and again, without even asking, he powerfully stood up for her. The words “put on a show of maternal love” echoed in my mind. My heart felt like it was being torn by a blunt knife, making my fingertips recoil. “David, why don’t you ask me why I hit her?” I spoke slowly, every word deliberate and serious. “Your mistress just confessed herself that she swapped the meat pie I made for Stockton and added seafood to it!” “Scarlett, your lying skills are truly as despicable as your character,” David scoffed coldly. “Although Addison is innocent and a bit mischievous, she always knows her boundaries and treats Stockton like her own child. How could she do such a thing?!” He stopped listening to my explanation and had his bodyguards restrain me. At David’s instruction, the bodyguards swung their arms, slapping me repeatedly across the face. My cheeks burned, quickly swelling, my mind went blank, and my ears rang incessantly. “You’re reluctant to do it yourself, so I have to get others to do it,” David said, walking up to me after the tenth slap. He looked down at me. “This is a warning to you. I will return what you did to Addison tenfold. Don’t let me see a next time!” Pain spread from my cheeks, but more than that, it was humiliation and disgrace. I collapsed onto the ground, utterly exhausted, watching David’s retreating back and Addison’s secretly smug eyes. My chest felt like it was stuffed with expanding cotton, and my eyes stung with tears. Don’t rush… I can leave in just one more week… Once I’m away from these rotten people and rotten situations, I can live my own life… Stockton woke up that evening. Seeming to know I would be leaving soon, he insisted on being discharged against the doctor’s advice and presented me with his third wish. He wanted to go to the amusement park I designed with me. This amusement park was the first major project I was responsible for after joining the Williams Group, and it was a sore spot for me. I poured my heart and soul into this project, drawing blueprints day and night, but the final credit was given to Addison, who just used it to pad her resume. So, after the amusement park was built, I never visited it once. But with my departure imminent, I naturally wouldn’t refuse Stockton. I spent the afternoon with Stockton at the amusement park, taking many photos of him and even showing him the hidden features of various rides. He was, after all, a seven-year-old child. His cool demeanor quickly melted away, his eyes bright and smiling. It wasn’t until night had completely fallen, and Stockton was tired from playing, that he sat down to rest in a small pavilion. I bought him an ice cream, which was usually strictly regulated. Just as I was about to tell him it was time to go home, the pavilion’s beam suddenly snapped, and it instantly collapsed. “Stockton!” My pupils constricted, and my heart seemed to stop along with time.

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My cousin Schumacher was getting married, but my wife refused to attend the wedding with me. I’d expected this—just like how she always found excuses not to visit my hometown with me. Though I was prepared, facing relatives’ questions at the wedding reception still left a bitter taste in my mouth. I’d long known that many people gossiped behind my back, saying I wasn’t man enough to even bring my own wife home. Some even whispered that I’d gotten divorced. I drank silently, coming to a decision. No need for rumors anymore. I pulled out my phone and called my wife. She hung up… hung up again… and again. [Can you stop? I’m busy] Faced with her attitude, I calmly typed: [Let’s get divorced] [Are you insane? You want a divorce just because I won’t go to Schumacher’s wedding?] [My sister’s visiting for the holidays. Can’t I spend time with her?] I used to try reasoning with her, telling her how I felt. She said she hated social obligations, but with her own family, she was always enthusiastic. Big events or small, I had to attend everything on her side. When it came to my side, she called it annoying. I’d tried reasoning too many times. I was done talking. [I’m serious. Think about what you want in the divorce, and I’ll state my terms too] [Split assets fifty-fifty. If you agree, we’ll do an uncontested divorce] I sent the two messages. [Are you crazy?] She replied with the same line again. I put away my phone with no intention of responding further. Over the next few days, she went silent, and I didn’t contact her either. On the last day of the holiday, she came home. Seeing my stern face, she said nothing. After setting down her things, she went into the bedroom and slammed the door hard. Moments later she stormed out angrily, holding divorce papers in her hand. “What is this supposed to mean?” She threw the papers at me. “Divorce.” “I want a reason.” “I’m tired. I don’t want to live with you anymore.” I looked at her calmly. “You’re leaving me for Schumacher?” She started crying. Her tears used to make me panic. Now, I ignored them. “We’re both adults. Can’t we be civilized about this?” “Civilized? You call divorce civilized?” Green tore up the divorce papers. “I’ll never divorce you. I can’t handle that kind of humiliation.” I got up and retrieved my pre-packed suitcase from the study. “You have three days to think it over. If you won’t agree to an uncontested divorce, I’ll file a lawsuit.” “Stop right there, Davis! What gives you the right to divorce me? What have I ever done wrong to you?” “Are you seeing someone else?” I glanced at her, too tired to argue. I just wanted to end this marriage as quickly as possible, even if it meant taking a financial loss. Less than two hours after I left home, my father-in-law Ant called, asking me to come back and talk. If we could divorce peacefully, I didn’t want things to get too ugly. I headed back quickly. Ant, my mother-in-law Bella, and Green’s sister Lavinia were all there. The whole family sat formally, like they were conducting an interrogation. Bella spoke first. “Davis, Green’s told us everything. You’re really going too far. You want a divorce just because she wouldn’t go home with you for your wedding?” “Do you think marriage is a joke? Don’t you take Green seriously at all?” I stayed silent, unwilling to engage in this pointless argument. Green and I had argued enough over the years.

Our sex life—her cold rejections. I’d complained many times. It never helped. My income—no matter how my salary increased, there was always someone earning more that she could use to put me down. And my time off work and holidays—I couldn’t have any recreational activities of my own. She’d always say I was lazy, greedy, sneaky, and lacked ambition. Five years of marriage, and she refused to have kids, constantly citing my lack of ambition and insufficient income. Living in that atmosphere every day, I couldn’t find any meaning in life. The thing was, to make things easier for herself, she’d taken a job paying two thousand a month where she could watch shows and scroll through videos all day. After work, she was either playing cards or getting beauty treatments. Shopping and traveling were mandatory on holidays. I didn’t accept this double standard. “Green hasn’t enjoyed a single day of happiness since marrying you. What right do you have to ask for a divorce?” Bella continued her tirade. I glanced at the gold bracelet on her wrist—I’d bought that. She and Ant had no income. I gave them living expenses every month. Every month, I gave them three thousand dollars. As for Green’s jewelry—I never missed Valentine’s Day, birthdays, or anniversaries. Not once in five years. I didn’t know what suffering they’d endured, or what hardships Green had faced with me. Perhaps the greatest hardship she’d suffered was drinking iced Americanos. Whenever I went back with Green, Bella never stopped talking—either about whose son-in-law made so much money in business or whose daughter acquired what nice things. Her family was a bottomless pit. I looked at Bella. “I came here to talk with you all. Can you shut your mouth?” Bella stood up, glaring. “How dare you! You dare tell me to shut up? Green, look at what you’ve found.” She pointed at me. “With us here, this is your attitude. God knows how you bully Green normally.” “If that’s your attitude, I’ll see you in court.” I stood to leave. “Stop right there! Is this how your parents raised you? Do you have any respect for us?” “Mom, please say less.” Green quickly stopped Bella. “Your parents should be here soon. We’ll discuss this when they arrive.” Ant finally spoke up. Divorce was a big deal—impossible to hide from my parents. Since they’d already notified my folks, we might as well sit down together and settle this. Shortly after I sat back down, my parents arrived. “Finally, you’re here.” Bella wore a stern expression. “Davis is absolutely terrible. You need to control him. I said a few words to him and he told me to shut up.” “This kind of disrespect for elders—only Green could tolerate him.” “Anyone else would have divorced him long ago.” My dad didn’t take the bait, just looked at me. “You’ve thought this through?” “Yes.” “Then divorce.” Bella’s expression darkened. “What do you mean? I called you here to mediate.” “Mediate?” My dad glanced at her. “I don’t see you trying to mediate.” “And speaking of disrespecting elders, does Green respect me and her mother-in-law?” “They’ve been married five years. Has she ever visited us?” “In all these years, has she ever called us Mom and Dad?” “Only the people who gave birth to me are Mom and Dad. Is it wrong that I don’t call you that?” Green lost her temper too. “Then divorce it is.” My dad repeated. “On this matter, I support Davis.”

“I thought you were reasonable people, that’s why I called you over.” Ant’s face darkened. “Since this is your attitude too, there’s no need to let Green suffer with you anymore.” Ant looked at me. “Davis, you can divorce Green, but you leave with nothing.” I ignored him, staring at Green instead. “If you agree to an uncontested divorce, we split assets fifty-fifty. If not, I’ll sue and fight for all the assets, leaving you with nothing.” “Fight for all the assets? Who the hell do you think you are?” Bella put one hand on her hip, pointing at me with the other. “How dare you even mention assets? Have you no shame?” “I’ve been too nice to you, haven’t I?” I stopped indulging her. “You have two daughters. Lavinia married far away, so you expect me and Green to support you in old age. You’re the shameless one.” “You… you… you…” Bella pointed at me. “Won’t our inheritance be yours when we die?” “Inheritance? What inheritance do you have?” I laughed bitterly. “Because you raised daughters, you retired early and started living off others.” “Now even your living expenses come from me, and you dare mention inheritance?” “And the car, house, jewelry—did Green go without any of them?” “If you haven’t learned to be human, you should die and reincarnate to learn again.” Seeing her face flush with anger, I turned back to Green. “I’m just waiting for one word from you. I want to divorce you as soon as possible.” “As long as you agree to an uncontested divorce, you get half the assets. If I sue, you won’t get anything.” “Davis, you’re bullying me.” Green wiped away tears pitifully. “You’re the one leaving me. You want the divorce. What right do you have to split assets?” “What have I done wrong to you?” “You just think I’m too old. You must be seeing someone else.” “Exactly.” Bella chimed in. “Divorce is fine, but you must explain why. If you can’t, you leave with nothing.” “You know perfectly well why I want a divorce.” I stared at Green. “Are you sure you want me to say it now?” “I don’t know. Say it right now why you want a divorce.” “I can tolerate anything about you, but not matters of principle. That’s why I want a divorce.” “What do you mean?” Green glared at me. “You don’t understand what I mean?” “I don’t understand.” Green stepped forward. “You must explain clearly.” I said coldly: “You cheated on me.” “Bullshit! You’re the one who cheated! Don’t slander me.” Green became agitated. “You need proof—you need evidence. Where’s your proof?” She rushed at me shouting, “You’re inhuman! How can you say such things? I’ll tear your mouth off!” Slap… I raised my hand and struck her face. In all our years of marriage, I’d never argued with her. When she was willful or threw tantrums, I’d always laughed it off. But on matters of principle, there could be no forgiveness. Actually, I didn’t want to hit her. I found her disgusting. I just wanted to end this marriage quickly, but facing Green’s fake innocence, I couldn’t hold back. That slap lit the fuse. “You dare hit Green!” Bella rushed forward, Ant followed, and Lavinia joined in too. My parents immediately entered the fray.

Numbers-wise, we were at a disadvantage. But the other side only had Ant as a male, so we gained the upper hand. All those years of pent-up frustration, I released through my fists and feet on Green. I found the chance to slap the domineering Bella several times. Finally, my dad and I teamed up to take down Ant and used my size 11 shoe to greet his face. I proved to Bella through action that I dared not only to hit Green, but her too. Whether it was dirty or not didn’t matter anymore. It felt great. Though feeling great came at a cost—the police took us all in. This kind of family conflict was hard to assign responsibility for. In the end, everyone got a verbal warning. This negotiation ended in physical combat. Clearly, an uncontested divorce was off the table now. Time to sue. Half a month later, the court arranged the first mediation. That day, all of Green’s relatives who could come showed up, clearly planning to get revenge through force. At the mediation, Green’s relatives looked menacing. Seeing this, my dad called my family’s relatives. I figured once mediation ended, another battle was inevitable. The mediator looked stern. “I know you’re all emotional, but today we’re here to resolve your conflicts.” “Davis, Green doesn’t agree to your divorce request, and she’s very upset about your accusation of her infidelity.” “If you have no evidence, she has the right to hold you accountable.” I looked at Green. “Since you won’t take the easy way out, today I’ll let all your relatives see your true face.” “Green, listen carefully. Before Schumacher’s wedding half a month ago, I installed cameras at home. Do you think I have evidence of your affair?” I looked at the mediator. “I have a video that can prove Green’s infidelity.” Green’s face went pale. “I agree to divorce. I agree to leave with nothing.” Too late. For people who don’t appreciate kindness, they must learn pain. I told the mediator, “I request to play this video publicly to prove I didn’t slander Green.” “No, you can’t!” Green panicked. “You heard her—Green says you can’t.” Bella joined in. “Green said you can’t.” Lavinia also shouted. Green’s whole family panicked. I watched silently. The expressions on Bella and the others’ faces made me realize they’d known about Green’s affair all along. “This is evidence proving my innocence.” I stood up. “It’s also key evidence for the divorce and asset division.” The mediator didn’t indulge Green and her family. The video was played on the spot. The day I went to Schumacher’s wedding, Green confirmed I wasn’t home. She brought her lover back to the house. The camera clearly recorded everything, including their conversation. “It’s more exciting at your place.” “Baby, I want something even more exciting. One day you should slip him some sleeping pills.” Hearing this dialogue, my dad immediately cursed. The scene erupted into chaos. “You violated my privacy rights! I’ll sue you!” Green shouted at the top of her lungs. The mediation couldn’t continue. Both sides left. Outside, Green pointed at me. “He violated my privacy and just insulted me. Beat him up!” Her relatives’ faces couldn’t have looked worse. “What a disgrace! We thought Green was really wronged.” “Turns out she’s shameless! She’s completely humiliated us, and now she wants us to beat Davis? You must be joking.”

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My dad died in a car accident when I was ten. Only later did I learn that the crash wasn’t an accident. The brakes had been tampered with. And the person who did it was my mom. My dad died never knowing his wife had already found another man. Less than three months after his death, she married that man, grooming their son to become his successor. She even stole my dad’s last composition, claiming it was her other son’s original work. Fifteen years later, I sat on the judging panel of an international piano competition. On stage, that “child prodigy” was playing my dad’s final piece. I pressed the stop bell. “That piece isn’t yours.” The microphone carried my voice to everyone in the hall. “I refuse to score you.” The hall erupted, camera flashes going off like a storm. Andrew’s face instantly went pale, his lips trembling as he looked at Molina in the audience. I saw Molina’s face twitch, but she didn’t react publicly. She just stared at me, a sinister glint in her eyes. The competition was halted. I left the judging panel and walked toward the backstage lounge. Before the door could close, someone pushed it open. Andrew stood in the doorway, his eyes red, his chest heaving. “How dare you?” His tone was arrogant, nothing like the “child prodigy” on stage. “How dare you interrupt me? Do you have any idea how long I prepared?” I stayed seated. “I don’t care how long you prepared. That piece isn’t yours, so I won’t score you.” “If it’s not mine, is it yours?” He sneered, growing more agitated. “I composed it myself! My mom personally guided me! Who do you think you are, saying it’s not mine?” I looked up at him. He didn’t know the true owner of the piece. He didn’t know his mother had stolen someone else’s posthumous work. And he certainly didn’t know that I was Molina’s first son. “I said it’s not, so it’s not.” My voice was calm. “The composition date, the structural logic, the harmonic progression of this piece are completely different from your usual style. Any professional judge would hear it.” “Bullshit!” he practically screamed. “You’re just jealous of me! You just want attention!” He slammed the door shut and left. I closed my eyes, my hand trembling. Not from fear, but from hatred. Fifteen years. My dad died in that “accident.” No one suspected anything, no one knew the brakes had been tampered with. But I found out. It took ten years, piecing it together, bit by bit. The old mechanic from that repair shop was still alive. He remembered someone giving that car “special maintenance” that day. The person he described looked exactly like Molina in her youth. My dad died never knowing. He didn’t know his wife had been with another man when she was pregnant. He didn’t know that man’s family wealth could elevate Molina to the top overnight. He just practiced the piano every day, composed, taught me, and eagerly awaited the concert that could change our lives. He got into that car and never came back. My phone screen lit up. A notification: Andrew’s studio released a statement, strongly condemning the judge for “maliciously disrupting the competition.” The comment section already had tens of thousands of posts. [Who’s this judge? Chasing clout, probably?] [Poor Andrew, he’s being bullied.] [Boycott this judge!] I turned off my phone. I knew this was just the beginning.

The next morning, three distinct knocks, neither too loud nor too soft, sounded at my hotel room door. I opened it, and a man stood there. In his early fifties, remarkably well-preserved, in a custom-tailored suit, a Patek Philippe on his wrist. Osmond. Molina’s husband, Andrew’s father, and the man she’d been with before she even divorced. “Judge Lewis, aren’t you going to invite me in?” He smiled politely, but there was no warmth in his eyes. I stepped aside, letting him enter. He sat on the sofa, crossed his legs, and surveyed the hotel room as if sizing up something of no value. “Judge Lewis, I’ll get straight to the point.” He took an envelope from his bag, placed it on the coffee table, and slid it toward me. I glanced down, an eight-figure sum. “That’s ten years’ worth of your judging income,” he said. “All you have to do is release a statement tomorrow, saying you misheard the piece that day and acted impulsively, and this money is yours.” “Additionally, the Conservatory will give you a visiting professor position. You won’t have to teach annually, just lend your name to the position.” I looked at him, saying nothing. He thought I was hesitating, so he added: “Judge Lewis, you’re a smart man. You should know that going against the Osmond family never ends well.” “Mr. Osmond,” I finally spoke. “The Osmond family, you say?” “My wife is an Osmond, my son is an Osmond. Is there a problem?” “And that piece?” I asked. “Are you sure it belongs to the Osmond family?” Osmond’s expression subtly changed, but he quickly regained his composure. “That piece is Andrew’s original work, and it’s copyrighted.” “Judge Lewis, if you can’t provide evidence, you’d best be careful what you say. Defamation carries legal consequences.” “Is that so?” I picked up the check, looked at it, then slowly tore it in half. Osmond’s face finally darkened. “Lewis, you’re testing my patience, aren’t you?” He stood up, looking down at me. “You think winning a few international awards means you can just waltz in here and call the shots? Let me tell you who truly runs things in this industry.” “The Osmond family?” I finished his sentence. “Glad you know.” “Then let me tell you something too,” I looked up at him. “I, Lewis, didn’t get to where I am today through anyone’s charity. You can’t touch me.” Osmond sneered. “Lewis, you’re too naive.” He picked up his bag, walked to the door, and glanced back at me. “Within three days, you’ll be crawling back to me.” The door slammed shut. I watched the door, my lips slowly flattening. Beg him? My dad never begged anyone. He didn’t even know Osmond existed. He only knew his wife suddenly became very busy during his struggling period, often not coming home. He thought she was focused on her career. He raised me alone, practicing piano, composing, teaching lessons, scrimping and saving. He never complained once. When he died, his bag still held a family photo. On the back, it read: “When Lewis grows up, we’ll go to Vienna together.” I took an archive folder from the drawer. Inside were the pieces of evidence I’d collected over the years. The mechanic’s recorded statement. Molina’s transfer records for purchasing brake fluid that year, through an intermediary, but the money trail eventually led back to her private account. And the original manuscript of the piece. My dad wrote it in an old notebook, the date clearly marked: three months before the accident. What he took with him that day was a clean copy. The original was safe at Grandpa Arthur’s. Molina didn’t know; she thought it was all destroyed. She didn’t know my dad had a backup. I turned to the last page of the manuscript. A line of small lettering read: “To my son, Lewis. I couldn’t be there to watch you grow, but I’ve left you my best music.” My fingers gently traced the words. Dad, rest assured. I won’t let anyone steal your music.

On the third day, Molina herself arrived. She didn’t knock; the hotel manager used a master key to open the door for her. She wore a sharply tailored business suit, her hair impeccably styled, her entire presence exuding “successful woman.” She stood in the doorway, looking at me as if I were a naive insect. “Lewis, let’s talk.” I sat by the window, not moving. She walked in, closed the door, and sat opposite me. “You know who I am, right?” “I do,” I said. “Molina, Dean of the Conservatory, renowned pianist.” “And what else?” “Andrew’s mother.” She nodded, crossed her legs, her tone like she was lecturing a junior. “Lewis, you interrupted my son during the competition and claimed that piece wasn’t his. Do you know what that kind of behavior is called?” “Upholding my principles,” I said. She smiled, a cold smile. “It’s called courting disaster.” She leaned forward, lowering her voice. “I won’t beat around the bush. I don’t care if you have any evidence. But I’ve already looked into you.” She pulled out her phone and swiped a few times: “Your agent’s name is Collins, right? Your contract with him has three years left.” “His wife’s company happens to have a favor to ask of me. One word from me, and he’ll drop you.” “Your mentor, Professor Johnson, is seventy this year, not in the best health, and applying for a Lifetime Achievement Award.” “My committee decides who gets that award.” “And your next performance – your recital at the Vienna Concert Hall next month.” “The organizers are old friends of mine. If I tell them to cancel it, they won’t dare refuse.” She listed them one by one, her tone flat, as if reading a menu. “Lewis, I just have to lift a finger, and I can make you completely disappear from this industry.” “Do you believe me?” I looked into her eyes. This woman’s ruthlessness wasn’t an overt aggression, but a deep-seated contempt. She felt crushing me was like crushing an insect. “Dean Molina, are you finished?” I asked. Her brows furrowed slightly. “I’m telling you all this because Andrew is my son. If you touch him, you touch me.” “I’m giving you one last chance. At tomorrow’s press conference, you will publicly apologize.” “You’ll say you misheard the piece, that it was an impulsive act. Then, you’ll voluntarily resign from your judging position.” “What if I don’t?” She stood up, looking down at me. “Then you won’t have a place in this industry anymore.” “You think winning a few international awards makes you secure?” She scoffed. “Lewis, in this industry, there are more ways to make someone disappear than you can imagine.” “Molina,” I addressed her directly. “Aren’t you afraid I’ll tell the truth?” “The truth?” She laughed, a dismissive laugh. “With what? A few flimsy papers? A recording?” “You think those things can make any real waves?” She turned and walked toward the door, not looking back. “Tomorrow at 3 PM, Seattle Grand Hotel. Come or not, it’s your decision.” “However – if you don’t come, face the consequences.” The door slammed shut. I sat alone in the room, my hand trembling for a long time. Not from fear, but from hatred. Fifteen years. She stole my dad’s music, killed my dad, and propelled her other son to fame. Now, she was going to use my career, my mentor, my agent, to force me to bow down. She didn’t know who I was. When she abandoned me, I was already ten years old. Yet she didn’t even find me familiar. She didn’t recognize that the young man before her was the son she had with her first husband. But tomorrow, she would know.

After packing my things, I opened my phone. It was flooded with hate comments and criticisms. #Lewis Get Out Of Music# topped the trending list, with over 300 million views. The top Ins post was from a music critic with a million followers: “A judge like Lewis, utterly unprofessional, is a disgrace to the entire industry.” “Maliciously interrupting a performer to grab headlines, ruining a child prodigy’s future.” “I recommend all concert halls, agencies, and conservatories to collectively boycott him.” The comments below were all in agreement. [This kind of person dares to be a judge? How well-connected is he?] [I heard he has no background, just slept his way to the top.] [I always thought his competitions were rigged.] [Support Andrew! Support Dean Molina!] My agency released a statement. Not supporting me, but “suspending all collaboration with Mr. Lewis, pending investigation results.” Polite but unambiguous – they had dropped me. Collins didn’t answer my call, only replied with a WhatsApp message: “I’m sorry, I can’t do anything.” My mentor, Professor Johnson, sent a message through someone: “Lewis, don’t be impulsive. Just apologize and it will blow over. You’re still young.” I didn’t reply. I found a video Andrew had posted last night. He sat at the piano, his eyes red and swollen, his voice choked: “I don’t blame Judge Lewis. Maybe he was just tired, or misheard. My mom told me to learn to be forgiving.” “That piece truly is my own, the fruit of two years of painstaking effort. It makes me sad that someone claims it’s not mine, but I will prove myself with more compositions.” The comments flooded in: [Don’t cry, Andrew! We believe you!] [Kind boys have the most power!] [The Osmond family has such exemplary upbringing!] I almost laughed out loud. Two years of painstaking effort? That was my dad’s fifteen years of tireless work. I turned off my phone. Tomorrow, it was time to settle the score. The next day, Seattle Grand Hotel, third-floor banquet hall. By 2:30 PM, the entrance was swarming with reporters. Wearing a hat and mask, I entered through the staff entrance and found a seat in a corner. Exactly 3 PM, the Osmond family walked onto the stage. Molina was in a business suit, a solemn expression on her face. Osmond wore a dark suit, his eyes slightly red. Andrew, in a white shirt, hung his head, looking like a fragile white flower battered by the storm. Molina spoke first. She stood at the microphone, silent for five seconds, then bowed deeply. “First, I want to apologize to everyone concerned about this matter.” “It was my excessive trust in this industry that led to Andrew suffering undeserved hardship.” Someone in the audience shouted, “Dean Molina, you did nothing wrong!” She raised her hand, gesturing for silence, her voice low: “Andrew has loved music since he was a child. He started learning piano at four, performed on stage at eight, and composed his first piece at twelve.” “This piece, ‘Autumn Night Variations,’ he painstakingly refined for two whole years.” “Every note, a piece of his soul. Every modulation, a spark of inspiration from his late-night practice sessions.” “As a mother, I am proud of him.” Her eyes welled up as she said this. Applause broke out in the audience. Osmond took the microphone, his voice carrying a hint of anger: “I am just a father. My son was humiliated in front of a national audience; it pains me deeply.” “Lewis is also a man; he will have children someday. How would he feel if his children were treated this way?” “I ask for nothing else but justice.” He turned to Andrew, and the father and son put their arms around each other, patting each other’s backs in a show of mutual support. Andrew sighed, then managed a strained, bitter smile. “I don’t hate Judge Lewis. I just hope everyone stops criticizing him. He might truly have his own difficulties.” Someone in the audience shouted: “Andrew, you’re too kind!” “The Osmond family truly has an exemplary upbringing!” I sat in the corner, watching the three perform on stage. Every expression, every line, every pause was precise, as if rehearsed countless times. They weren’t holding a press conference; they were filming a movie. And I was the mere pawn, cast as the villain. The host stepped onto the stage: “Next, a representative from the Musicians’ Association will announce the decision regarding Lewis.” A middle-aged man with glasses stood up, unfolding a piece of paper: “After deliberation by the Musicians’ Association Review Committee, it has been decided to revoke Lewis’s qualification as an international piano competition judge.” “His ‘Annual Outstanding Young Musician’ title is rescinded, and all music conservatories and performing arts organizations are advised to suspend cooperation with him.” “Additionally, the Association calls on Mr. Lewis to acknowledge his errors, publicly apologize, and restore public trust.” A wave of sustained applause. Everyone stood up, except for me. I slowly removed my hat and mask, then stood up. “Wait a moment.” My voice wasn’t loud, but the banquet hall’s sound system carried my every word throughout the hall. The entire hall fell into a stunned silence. Hundreds of eyes turned to me. On stage, Molina’s pupils constricted sharply. Osmond’s tears instantly dried. Andrew’s smile froze. I faced all the cameras, walking step by step toward the stage. “Didn’t you say you wanted justice?” “I’ll give it to you.”

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When I went to replace my bank card, the teller casually mentioned that I had a quarterly patent income of $300,000 under my name. But as the patent inventor, I had never seen a single cent of it. Following the account trail, I discovered that over five years, my wife, Trent, had not only secretly transferred over $5.5 million in patent fees that rightfully belonged to me, but she had also been supporting a lover behind my back. When I confronted her, she looked at me with utter contempt: “What can you do besides tinker with tech?” Even her lover showed up at my door, tossing a check at me. “$50,000, stay away from Trent.” I looked at the despicable pair in front of me and suddenly smiled. They thought I was a pushover, a useless academic they could easily manipulate. They had no idea that everything they possessed was originally mine. It was 2 PM, and I stood at the bank counter, reporting my old card lost. I’d lost the card last week but hadn’t gotten around to replacing it. The teller took my ID, checked the system, and suddenly paused. “Sir, you have a regular deposit of patent licensing fees under your name. Would you like to link it to your new card?” I froze. “What patent licensing fees?” She turned the screen to show me. I squinted for three seconds, and my mind exploded. The screen clearly displayed: A regular quarterly deposit of $300,000, into a bank card under my name that I’d never seen before. The deposit history began five years ago and continued until now. Five years, twenty quarters, $6 million. My fingers began to tremble. I remembered five years ago, I was burning the midnight oil in the lab, tirelessly doing R&D. My wife, Trent, came to me with a stack of documents, asking me to sign. She said it was for registering a company, just going through the procedures, and needed my signature as a “tech partner.” I was so busy back then, I didn’t even lift my head. I just grabbed the pen and signed. She smiled and said, “Ethan, you just focus on your tech. I’ll handle the business side of things. You’re a tech guy; you don’t get business.” From then on, I was sidelined, becoming a nominal consultant. She never discussed company matters with me. Every time I asked, she’d say, “Don’t worry about it, it’s barely anything.” And now, this card received $300,000 every quarter. So, this was what she meant by “barely anything.” I took a deep breath. My hands stopped shaking. My mind had never been clearer. “Link it to my new card.” My voice was so calm it surprised even me. “From now on, every deposit should be transferred directly to my personal account.” She glanced at me, didn’t ask any more questions, and began the process. Five minutes later, the transaction was complete. At 7 PM, I returned home. The house was empty. Trent was still away on a business trip. She had gotten increasingly busy these past two years, traveling internationally at least once a month, saying she was “negotiating deals, meeting clients.” I used to believe her. Now, thinking back, what was she really busy with? I walked into her study and opened her computer. I tried the password three times; it was her birthday. I logged into her email and started sifting through her correspondence. The more I read, the colder my hands grew. Over the past five years, the company had signed seven patent licensing agreements. Every single agreement licensed my patents. And in the signature field, it was Trent’s name, every single time. My patents, my technology, she took them to sell for profit. Yet, she only gave me $1,000 a month for “living expenses,” claiming, “the company’s not doing well, we need to be careful with money.” A thousand dollars. I kept scrolling, finding a contact named “Kevin.” The email exchanges started two years ago. The content slowly shifted from “pleasant to work with” to “miss you,” “can’t wait for you to come back.” There were also a few photos. Trent was leaning against a man in a suit, smiling brightly, with the Eiffel Tower in the background. That was last year, when she said she was “going to France for an industry summit.” I stared at the photos, my knuckles turning white. Five years. She had lied to me for five years. I shut the laptop, leaning back in the chair, as the night deepened outside the window.

At 2 AM, the doorbell rang. Someone was frantically ringing the bell and pounding on the door. I rose from the sofa, walked slowly and deliberately to the door, and opened it. Trent stood outside, her hair disheveled, eyes red, dragging a suitcase, breathless. She had clearly taken a cab straight from the airport. “Ethan… Ethan, have you lost your mind?!” She stormed in, grabbing my collar. “Why did you touch that card?! Do you even know what you’re doing?!” I looked down at her hand clutching my collar and smiled. “Trent, I was just about to ask you, what kind of money is on that card?” She paused, her eyes flickering. “That’s… that’s the company’s operating capital! If you mess with it, there will be huge problems!” “Company’s operating capital?” I pushed her hand away, my voice calm. “A quarterly patent licensing fee of $300,000 is the company’s operating capital?” Trent’s face changed. “You… how did you know?” “I also know that you and Kevin were managing those patent fees for me, right?” She took a step back, her expression flustered, but quickly regained her composure. She looked at me, slowly sat on the sofa, and lit a cigarette. I had never seen her smoke before. “You went through my emails?” she asked. “Yep.” She exhaled a puff of smoke and smiled. It wasn’t a guilty smile, but a relieved one. “Good.” She leaned back against the sofa, looking at me, her eyes devoid of guilt, only a strange frankness. “Ethan, what do you want to know?” “I’ll tell you.” “Kevin isn’t just a client. We’ve been together for two years.” She tapped the ash from her cigarette, her tone as flat as if she were commenting on the weather. “You didn’t know anything for these past five years, and you seemed quite happy, didn’t you?” I clenched my fist, my knuckles turning white. She glanced at me and stubbed out her cigarette. “So stop making trouble.” “It’s useless for you to link that card back. The patent licensing agreement has the company’s seal on it, not your personal one.” “You won’t get it back that easily.” She stood up, patting down her dress. “You’re just a techie; you don’t get business, and you certainly can’t win this fight.” She dragged her suitcase into the master bedroom and shut the door. I was left alone in the living room. I stood rooted to the spot, feeling a chill run through me. She didn’t even bother lying to me anymore. The next morning, I left for work. As I reached the entrance of my apartment complex, a black Porsche pulled up to the curb. The window rolled down, and a man in sunglasses smiled at me. “You’re Ethan?” I stopped. “Who are you?” He took off his sunglasses, revealing a pair of narrow eyes. “Kevin. Kevin Matthews.” My blood rushed to my head. He leaned against the car door, sizing me up, a playful smirk on his lips. “Trent told me you made a scene yesterday. I came to check in and have a chat.” “Nothing to chat about.” I turned to leave, but he spoke calmly behind me. “Ethan, I mean no harm.” “Honestly, I admire you. Your tech work is truly excellent.” “But you know, just having technology isn’t enough.” “Your patents, without Trent’s business operations, aren’t worth a dime.” I stopped. “So?” “So, I’m here to make you an offer.” He walked up to me, pulling a check from his suit pocket. “$50,000. You cancel the new card link and stop meddling in company affairs.” He held the check out to me. I stared at that check. I barely made $15,000 a year. This was five years of my salary. But those patents had earned $6 million in five years. He was offering $50,000 to get rid of me? “No.” Kevin raised an eyebrow. “Ethan, don’t be foolish.” He took back the check and patted my shoulder. That touch sent shivers down my spine. “Go home and think about it. This offer won’t be available again.” He got into his car, the engine roared, and he sped away. I stood there, clenching my fists.

At noon, I didn’t go to work. Instead, I went to the local Intellectual Property Office. After two hours of searching, I found the crucial information. The seven patent licensing agreements listed “Trent Technologies” as the licensor. But in the patent holder section, it clearly stated: Ethan. This meant the company only had the right to operate and use the patents, but the ownership of the patents remained with me. The agreement Trent had me sign back then only “licensed” the patents for the company’s use. And there was a clause in the licensing contract: the patent holder had the right to terminate the license at any time. I hadn’t even read it when I signed it years ago. But now, this clause was my biggest trump card. If I terminated the license, all of Trent Technologies’ product lines would lose their technical foundation overnight. $1.2 million in patent fees a year? They wouldn’t get a single cent. That afternoon, I visited a law firm, finding a lawyer who specialized in intellectual property. “Adriana Hayes, what’s the process if I want to terminate a patent license?” Adriana Hayes reviewed the contract and nodded. “According to Article 11 of the contract, the patent holder can terminate the licensing agreement with sixty days’ written notice. The other party has no right of veto.” “So, I just need to send a lawyer’s letter, and sixty days later, the company can’t use my patents anymore?” “Correct.” “Good.” I drafted the lawyer’s letter, but I didn’t send it immediately. I would wait until all my chess pieces were in place before making my move. Leaving the law firm, I stopped at an electronics store. I bought a professional voice recorder, palm-sized, capable of continuous recording for seventy-two hours. Back home, I slipped it into my shirt pocket. From today on, I would record every word Trent and Kevin said. The more arrogant they were, the better it would look in court later. I didn’t make a scene. I went to work and came home as usual every day, and I didn’t even mention the new card again. She thought I’d caved. On the fifth day, she probed me, “Ethan, have you thought things through about that card?” I sat on the sofa watching TV, not even looking up. “Yeah, you’re right. I don’t understand business. Why bother messing around?” She sighed in relief and smiled, sitting next to me. “That’s what you should have thought earlier. Just focus on your tech, I’ve got everything else handled.” I smiled, but said nothing. She picked up her phone and walked onto the balcony to make a call. I perked up my ears. “Mm… don’t worry, he hasn’t done anything else… Right, he’s just a naive academic; scare him a little, and he’ll back down…” Her voice drifted in intermittently with the breeze. “When are you coming back from your business trip? I miss you…” I gripped the remote control, my knuckles white, but my face showed nothing. The voice recorder in my pocket quietly did its work.

On the eighth day, my mother-in-law, Clara, arrived. Clara walked in and got straight to the point. “Ethan, Trent told me about the scene you made a while ago.” She sat opposite me at the dining table, hands clasped, her face full of impatience. “What are you unhappy about? She feeds you, she takes care of you, she never lets you worry about company matters.” “You’re just a tech guy; why are you so nosy?” I paused, a forkful of food midway to my mouth. “Mom, I was just curious; I didn’t mean anything else.” “Curious?” Clara sneered. “You signed the papers, you got what you were supposed to get. Don’t go overstepping your bounds.” Trent, sitting nearby, tried to smooth things over, smiling. “Mom, that’s enough, he gets it now.” Clara glared at me. “Good that he gets it.” She pulled a card from her purse and slapped it on the table. “This is the new allowance card Trent got you. From now on, it’s $1,400 a month. That’s $400 more than before, pretty generous, wouldn’t you say?” $1,400. My patents made $1.2 million a year, and they gave me a raise to $1,400, acting like it was a huge favor. I picked up the card and smiled. “Thank you, Mom.” Clara nodded, satisfied. “That’s more like it. A man should be grateful for what he has and not make trouble.” After dinner, Trent walked Clara downstairs. I sat at the dining table, turning the $1,400 card over and over in my hand. On the tenth day, I received a message from Adriana Hayes. “Mr. Ethan, I looked into Trent Technologies’ corporate registration filings for the past three years.” “I found that three months ago, the company added a new shareholder: Kevin, holding 25%. His capital contribution method was ‘technical investment’.” I stared at the screen, a cold laugh escaping my lips. Technical investment? Using my technology, what kind of investment was he making? They kicked me out, claimed my technology as their own, and even let my wife’s lover use my patents to gain equity. What a masterful deception. On the fifteenth day, everything was as usual. Trent came home on time every day, cooked, cleaned, and occasionally acted sweet with me. The better she acted, the more disgusted I felt, but I kept it in. Because there was one last step remaining. That afternoon, I received a call from Adriana Hayes. “Mr. Ethan, all the documents are ready. Come over, and we’ll do a final review.” I took half a day off and went to the law firm. On Adriana Hayes’s desk, a thick stack of files was spread out. “Let’s go through them.” She pointed to the first document. “First, the letter of counsel for patent license termination.” “Second, the formal complaint submitted to the court.” “Third, the divorce petition.” I looked at the three documents and took a deep breath. “And this.” I pulled the voice recorder from my pocket and placed it on the table. “Over these fifteen days, I recorded more than seventy hours of content.” “This includes Trent’s confession about her relationship with Kevin, her admission of concealing patent income, and Kevin’s own statements to me.” Adriana Hayes listened to a few key recordings, her eyebrows raising higher and higher. “Mr. Ethan, these recordings are fully admissible as evidence in court.” She closed the folder and looked at me. “Are you sure you want to leave no room for retreat?” I smiled. “Adriana Hayes, it’s been five years.” “They embezzled over $5.5 million from me, stole my technology, slept with my wife, and still think giving me $1,400 for living expenses is a huge favor.” “Even today, they still think I’m just a naive academic who can’t stir anything up.” I stood up. “Then let them see how I stir up a storm.”

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Years into our marriage, when the critical condition notice for me arrived, Caleb Reed didn’t hesitate. He suggested mortgaging our house. To cover the sky-high medical costs, he, who once held himself so high, now toiled day and night, stripped of his pride. I couldn’t bear to be a burden on him and was preparing to give up on treatment. Then, a financial headline froze me in place. *“Reed Empire’s Heir Returns for Love! Takes Control of Multi-Billion-Dollar Company to Save His Beloved’s Life!”* The photo in the headline showed Caleb’s tired but deeply affectionate profile. I trembled, thinking this was his final desperate fight for *me*. But then the camera panned, and the woman in the sterile hospital gown was the same girl from the faded photo tucked away in his wallet. And I, I was foolish enough to believe he truly loved me. When Caleb pushed open the door, a chill from the late night swept in with him. He took off his cheap jacket, his face etched with exhaustion. “How are you feeling today?” He expertly poured a cup of hot water and brought it to my bedside. I shook my head, too weak to even speak. He sat on the edge of the bed, feeling my forehead to check my temperature. “The doctors say the situation isn’t optimistic, but Claire, don’t be scared. I’ve already sorted out the money.” He pulled a document from inside his jacket, carefully unfolding it. “I’ve already… mortgaged the house.” My heart constricted sharply. “You…” “Don’t say anything foolish.” He cut me off, as if expecting me to be moved by his gesture again. “Nothing is more important than you. As long as you get better, I’d be willing to sleep under a bridge.” He spoke with such earnestness, such deep affection. If I hadn’t seen that news just a few hours earlier, I would have believed every word. Caleb Reed, the scion of Reed Industries. My husband, who had played the role of a broke student for five years. “Caleb, do we… really have to come to this?” I asked, my voice dry. He was silent for a moment, then pulled out another document. It was a voluntary organ donation agreement. “Claire, the doctors said that given your condition, we might need to prepare for the worst.” His voice was light, but every word pierced my heart. “I know you’re the kindest person. The doctor told me today about a girl named Sarah Miller. She’s been waiting for a suitable heart for a very, very long time.” Sarah Miller. He finally said the name. The girl in the faded photo in his wallet’s hidden compartment, worn smooth from countless touches. “She’s really pitiful. She’s been sick since childhood, always living in pain.” He calmly recounted someone else’s story, a story that was, in fact, about my life and death. “If you… I mean, *if* you were to donate your heart to her, it would be a continuation of life, wouldn’t it?” I looked at this man who seemed to be losing his patience, not even bothering to craft another lie. He knew I was terminally ill and couldn’t afford the exorbitant treatment costs. He also believed, with certainty, that I loved him beyond words and would fulfill his every request. “So, mortgaging the house was to prepare for *her* surgery?” I asked bluntly. He paused, seemingly not expecting such a direct question. Then, he offered a sorrowful smile. “Claire, how could you think that of me? I’m doing this to cure *you*!” He became deeply affectionate again. “But your illness… you know, hope is slim. I just thought, on the off chance, if we fail, as the doctor said, we could save another life. It would be a way for a part of you to live on, wouldn’t it?” He held my hand, his hands warm and strong. “Just for my sake, okay? I don’t want you to leave with regrets.” “Sign this first, then we’ll fight together, alright?” I pulled my cold hand away. “I’m tired. I want to sleep for a bit.” A flicker of impatience crossed his face, but it was quickly masked by tenderness. “Okay, you rest. Don’t overthink things.” He placed the agreement and a pen neatly on my bedside table. In a spot I’d see the moment I opened my eyes. He got up, put on his jacket, and prepared to leave. At the door, he suddenly turned back and added, “Oh, and the doctor introduced me to the patient, Sarah. She’s in the VIP room on the top floor. If you want, I can arrange for you two to meet. She’s a really sweet girl.” With that, he closed the door. I stared at the agreement and the pen he’d left behind. It felt like a sharp blade, slowly carving into my heart.

The next day, a young nurse came to change my dressing. She was quick and efficient with her hands, but her mouth never stopped. “Ms. Davies, you really need to take good care of yourself. Your husband is so good to you.” I closed my eyes, not wanting to respond. “He comes to stay with you every day, running around for your medical bills. Everyone else is so jealous.” Jealous? Yes, how enviable. “Let me tell you, that lady on the top floor, in the VIP suite, she’s rich, but she’s truly pathetic.” The nurse lowered her voice, gossiping. “I heard her boyfriend is also a big shot – the scion of Reed Industries!” My fingers curled. “But honestly, I don’t think he cares that much about Ms. Miller. He’s busy with company affairs all day, only visits occasionally. Not like your husband, who practically wants to be glued to your side twenty-four-seven.” The nurse’s words dragged me back into my memories. I remembered when we first got together, Caleb was a broke student with nothing to his name. He would work odd jobs for a week just to buy me a lipstick I liked. He said, “Claire, when I’m rich, I promise I’ll give you the best life.” But later, after we graduated, he turned down all the high-paying offers, choosing the most ordinary job. He said, “Claire, I don’t want to work too hard. I just want to come home early every day to cook for you.” I believed him. I thought he didn’t care for wealth or status, that he loved me more than anything. Now, looking back, it was all just an act. He didn’t love me; he only cared about saving his Sarah’s life. “Ms. Davies? Ms. Davies? What’s wrong?” The nurse’s voice pulled me back to reality. I opened my eyes; she was looking at me with concern. “Did I say something wrong?” I shook my head. “No, just thinking about a few things.” The nurse sighed in relief, packed her things, and prepared to leave. “Your husband just called. He said he’ll be late tonight and not to wait up for him.” “Okay.” I replied. I knew he probably wouldn’t come tonight. Sarah Miller’s condition must be critical now, more important than me, his backup organ bank. In the evening, Caleb indeed didn’t show up. I propped myself up, slowly sitting. The agreement was still on the bedside table. Next to it lay my favorite poetry collection, the first gift Caleb ever gave me. He’d said, “Claire, in my eyes, you’re like a clear poem, I adore you so much.” I reached for the book. Its pages had yellowed, but it still held our unique scent. I opened the front cover, where his bold, sweeping handwriting read: *To my lifelong love, Claire Davies.* How ironic. Just then, the hospital room door opened. Caleb stood in the doorway. He saw the book in my hand and the still-blank agreement beside it. When he walked in, he carried a faint scent of perfume and a hint of red wine, strikingly clear in my sterile room. He didn’t ask if I’d eaten, walking straight to the bed and picking up the poetry collection. After absentmindedly flipping through a few pages, he finally couldn’t help but ask, “Claire, have you heard any gossip?” His question was calm. I didn’t answer, just watched him. Watched this stranger I shared my bed with. “Gossip spreads fast in a place like this. Just hear it and forget it, don’t take it to heart.” He was still playing the role of a considerate husband, comforting his emotional wife. “Who is Sarah Miller?” I finally spoke, mustering immense courage. His movements stopped. A few seconds later, he closed the book and set it aside. “To be honest, she’s just a friend of mine.” He answered airily. “A friend you need *my* heart to save?” I pressed. The air instantly solidified. The gentle expression on Caleb Reed’s face finally shifted. He stared at me, no longer bothering to pretend. “Yes.” He admitted it. “She’s really pitiful, she’s lived with illness since she was a child. Don’t you have any sympathy?” He countered. “Why should I sympathize with her? Sympathize with her using *my* life?” My emotions flared, and a sharp pain shot through my chest. “Claire Davies!” He raised his voice. “What kind of attitude is that? I’m discussing this with you, not begging you!” The impatience in his eyes was no longer hidden. “Are you sick, and your mind’s gone foggy too? When did you become so selfish?” Selfish? For him, I’d given up so many opportunities that could have given me a better life. For him, I wore cheap clothes, riding the bus, living on a shoestring budget for five years. Now, he wanted my life to save another woman, and then had the audacity to accuse me of being selfish. “Caleb Reed, you truly disgust me.” *“CRACK!”* A sharp sound. The poetry collection in his hand was violently thrown to the floor, its pages scattering everywhere.

“Don’t you dare be ungrateful, Claire!” His chest heaved violently. “Do you think you’re in any position to bargain with me now? Without me, you can’t even afford tomorrow’s medical bills!” This was the first time he had so blatantly threatened me with money. “Do you even deserve to look at these things in your current state?” He saw me staring at the floor, then pointed at the scattered poetry collection. “A dying person shouldn’t have any sentiment for our past!” His words tore my heart to shreds. In his mind, I was just a dying person, unworthy of anything beautiful anymore. I gave a bitter laugh, wiping away my tears. “So, you’re threatening me now? If I don’t sign, you’ll stop my treatment?” He probably hadn’t seen me like this before; he was momentarily stunned. But he quickly regained his cold composure. “I’m just making you face reality. Signing it is good for all of us.” He said “all of us,” which included Sarah Miller, but definitely not me. Just then, his phone rang. He answered, his impatient expression instantly turning anxious. “What? Her condition worsened? I’ll be right up!” He hung up, shooting me a furious glare. There was no love or tenderness left in his eyes. He advanced on me, step by step. “Claire Davies, now, immediately, sign it!” I leaned against the headboard, watching him coldly. Watching him frantic and distraught over another woman. Just as I’d suspected, he’d dropped all pretense because Sarah probably didn’t have much time left to wait. “What if I don’t sign?” “You have no choice.” He squeezed the words through clenched teeth. “Claire, don’t make me force you.” He started calling me by my name again, a cruel gentleness masking his true intentions. “Sarah can’t wait any longer. Help her, and you’ll be helping me.” He finally spoke his true thoughts. Not for any good deed, not for any continuation of my life, but simply to help *him*. To help him keep the woman he loved. “I spent five miserable years with you, Claire. Even if you don’t think for yourself, you should think for me, shouldn’t you?” “These five years, do you know what I gave up? I, the scion of the Reed family, lived with you in that tiny, rundown apartment, endured those tough years. I’ve done more than enough!” He completely tore off his disguise, revealing his true, ugly self. “It was all for Sarah! I approached you, married you, tolerated you – it was all for this day!” “The doctor said you had a weak constitution, that you wouldn’t live long, so I patiently waited for you!” “I thought once you died, I could naturally get your heart. I never expected you to drag it out for so long!” So that was it. My entire existence, from the beginning, had been a meticulously planned deception. A five-year performance staged solely to extract my heart. He saw my prolonged silence and seemed to realize he’d said too much. “Claire, struggling now is meaningless.” He picked up the agreement and the pen, pushing them into my hand. “Sign it. This is the last thing you can do for me.” “Is there anything you need to say, or any unfulfilled wishes you have in this life? I promise I’ll take care of them later!” I lowered my head, looking at the agreement in my hand. *Donor: Claire Davies.* *Recipient: Sarah Miller.* What a clean, cut-and-dry transaction. My hand trembled. Caleb thought I had given in. He leaned down, whispering into my ear. “Good girl, sign it. I’ll remember your kindness.” His breath on my earlobe made me feel a wave of nausea. I gripped the pen tightly. Then I looked up at him and smiled. He froze. The next second, I didn’t put pen to paper. Instead, I used every ounce of strength I had to tear the agreement in half. The tearing sound was deafening in the silent room. He hadn’t even reacted yet. I then tore those two halves into four, then eight… Countless pieces of paper fluttered from my fingertips, scattering across the floor. I dropped the pen; it rolled a few times on the ground, stopping at Caleb Reed’s feet. “Caleb Reed, you wish!” Before, I would have thought I had no money for treatment, no hope of getting better. But now, Caleb had inherited a fortune for a critically ill Sarah Miller. Logically, half of it should be mine. Why couldn’t I live?

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My parents, because I wasn’t “perfect” enough, implanted an AI chip in me. They said it would completely transform me. After the chip was implanted, I became the perfect daughter they’d always dreamed of. But the side effect was that every day, I’d forget something. I forgot the taste of Mom’s homemade soup. I forgot my favorite video game. I forgot my childhood friends. Eventually, I forgot my parents. When I saw them again, my eyes were smiling, but I spoke in a cold, mechanical voice, “Excuse me, who are you?” They froze. They stared at me, speechless for a long time after I said that. “…” Mom’s voice was a little impatient. “Lily, what act are you putting on now?” I searched my memories, but there was nothing there. I genuinely didn’t recognize them. So I firmly shook my head. “That’s correct.” “Lily,” Dad’s face darkened instantly. “What kind of joke is this?” “I know!” He frowned, as if something occurred to him. “Is it because you don’t want to go to school tomorrow, so you’re deliberately pretending?” My face still held the perfect smile I’d practiced countless times, and I replied in a flat, mechanical tone, “I apologize, but I genuinely don’t recognize you.” “I am not afraid of exams, nor am I afraid of starting school. I am the newest model of the Perfect Daughter System.” “I do not lie to anyone.” My tone was polite yet utterly unfamiliar. After speaking, I checked the synchronized time inside me. “According to my schedule, it is now bedtime. Sufficient rest is required to ensure optimal efficiency for school tomorrow.” I turned sideways and walked past them. “Please move aside.” My shoulder lightly brushed Mom’s arm. She seemed to flinch. She instinctively tried to stop me, but I easily dodged her. The programming inside me told me I couldn’t waste a single moment. I walked directly to my bedroom. Behind me, there was dead silence. Before closing the door, I caught a glimpse in my peripheral vision. They were still standing there, watching me. Dad’s shoulders slumped, and Mom raised a hand to cover her mouth. The lights cast their long shadows across the empty living room floor. Then, I heard Dad’s voice, very low. “What’s going on?” … I had no interest in listening to the rest. The lock clicked shut. I sat on my bed and pulled up my memory index. Pale blue data streams appeared in my vision. All input information, from the day of implantation, was categorized and clearly organized. Yesterday’s math formulas, last week’s English vocabulary, last month’s piano sheet music… Every memory was clear. But no matter how I searched, I couldn’t find the two people who had just claimed to be my parents. Suspecting an overload error, I scanned my brain space again. [Self-check complete. System operating normally. Memory bank intact. Logic module functioning correctly.] It seemed those two were indeed a cognitive error. I genuinely didn’t recognize them. I lay down and closed my eyes. Faintly, I felt a hollow emptiness somewhere. That feeling was very sad. But my brain told me it wasn’t important. … Actually, I did have some impressions of before. I was born into a dual-income household; both my Mom and Dad were high school teachers. Since I was their only child, they usually doted on me. But such a combination naturally meant they were stricter with their own child. They always wanted me to be first in everything, to excel at all costs. Yet, I seemed to be born without that particular knack. My grades were average, my competition results mediocre, always falling short of their expectations. But I had my own strengths. I was lively and outgoing, always friendly to others. When they were stressed from work and bickering at home, I would always squeeze in between them, cracking jokes and sharing funny school stories, which always managed to calm them down for a while. All the neighbors liked me. When Mrs. Henderson from downstairs came back from grocery shopping, I’d help her carry her bags up. When I saw Mr. Jenkins and Mrs. Miller, I’d wave and smile from afar, offering to help with anything I could. If a classmate was being bullied, I’d stand up for them. Even my homeroom teacher said I was a good kid. I always thought that counted as a form of excellence. But my Mom and Dad didn’t see it that way. They admired Mrs. Davies’ daughter, Sophia, more. She was three years older than me, an incredibly accomplished older girl. Always in the top three of her class, grade 10 piano, a stack of competition certificates. I’d met her before. She was refined and well-mannered, always speaking softly. But I always felt she lacked a certain spark; she always spoke in a rigid, textbook manner. To be honest, I didn’t dislike her. But I hated my parents for constantly comparing me to her. One evening at dinner, Mom brought up Sophia winning an award in a physics competition again. I felt a pang of discomfort and stirred the rice in my bowl, deliberately changing the subject. “Mom, I got chosen to lead our class during the school sports day parade this year! Isn’t that great?” The table fell silent. I thought they’d praise me. But instead, Dad just put down his fork. “All this superficial stuff, what’s the point?”

Mom chimed in, “Exactly. We don’t need that. We need solid grades, rankings, achievements like Sophia’s that we can show off!” I hadn’t expected such a response, and my heart felt like it had been pricked by a tiny needle. I tried to explain. “But I’m trying too, I…” “We don’t need you to try,” Dad cut me off, his voice not loud, but it felt like a heavy stone. “We need results. Results like Sophia’s.” Later, they even went to Mrs. Davies to seek advice, asking for her secrets to success. Mrs. Davies confidentially told them that Sophia used to be disobedient too, but then she found someone to get her the latest AI chip. After it was implanted, her child could grow exactly as the parents envisioned. She even claimed the chip was government-developed, capable of eliminating all “ineffective emotions” and “distractions.” My parents were swayed. They paid a hefty sum to Ms. Peterson to get this chip. And it was Sophia who told me about it. That day after school, she stopped me in the hallway, her eyes filled with an urgency I’d never seen before. “My mom lied to you guys. Remember, absolutely do not let them implant that chip in you,” she whispered, speaking very quickly. “Listen to me, don’t, under any circumstances.” I was stunned. It was the first time I’d seen such a vivid expression on her face. “What…?” I asked instinctively. She gripped my hand, explaining word by word, “It’s that AI chip my mom gave your parents, the one that’s supposed to make you obedient!” Then, she took a deep breath, leaned closer, and lowered her voice even more. “That thing will erode your brain. Once implanted, you won’t be you anymore. An AI program will slowly overwrite all your memories and emotions; it will take over your body.” “By then, what’s left will just be an empty shell, perfectly executing parental commands. Do you understand?” “By then, the real you will be no different from being dead.” She grabbed my arm, her fingers squeezing hard. “Don’t agree, no matter what, don’t agree.” I saw the light in her eyes, a light filled with fear and pleading. My intuition told me she wasn’t lying. That night, I tossed and turned. Sophia’s words buzzed in my head. A few days later, Mom and Dad did indeed have a serious talk with me. Mom held a small silver box in her hand, her eyes eager yet somewhat evasive. “Sweetie, this is something that can make you even better…” I looked at the box, a chill running down my spine. I remembered Sophia’s trembling voice. “Dad, Mom,” I looked at them, a hint of pleading in my voice. “If I use this, I’ll become the perfect daughter, right?” “Of course!” Mom immediately nodded. “But…” I took a breath, gathering my courage to finish. “What if that perfect daughter, actually… isn’t me anymore?” “What if the person sitting in front of you is just an obedient machine? Do you truly want a daughter like that?” The air in the living room instantly solidified. Mom’s smile froze on her face. “What are you talking about?” Her voice suddenly rose. “What do you mean ‘not you’? Huh? Isn’t it still your body? Mrs. Davies said this chip is absolutely safe! It’s just a tool to help you learn!” “But Sophia said…” “Sophia is jealous!” Mom cut me off, her face red. “She’s afraid you’ll surpass her! Can’t you see that? How much effort have we put into you? Huh? Are you just going to let outsiders provoke you?” Dad stepped forward, his face pale with anger. “I think you just don’t want to work hard! You’re making up these twisted excuses!” “I’m not…” I tried desperately to explain, but they wouldn’t listen to a single word. “You’re just lazy! Selfish!” Mom shrieked, tears welling up. “We’ve planned everything for you, and this is how you repay us? Do you want to be a failure your whole life?” Hearing such accusations, I suddenly had nothing to say. After a long silence, Mom suddenly knelt down, her eyes level with mine. Her eyes were red.

“Mom has been a teacher her entire life, and she’s taught so many students,” her voice began to tremble. “I always wanted, always wanted to prove through my own child that my education was right, that it was successful.” “Our expectations for you were too high… too high. Seeing you so ordinary, we worried, we feared… feared that we weren’t doing enough.” “Please… Lily…” I saw the desperate yearning behind her tears. In that moment, I suddenly understood everything. They didn’t love me; they loved the perfect educational dream they wanted me to fulfill. My chest felt squeezed by something, a bitter, swelling ache. But it was okay. I loved them. “I understand.” That sour feeling got stuck in my throat, but I swallowed it down. “If that’s what you want…” I looked at the silver box and slowly nodded. “I’m willing.” For the sake of the perfect daughter in your minds. I could stop being me. The chip implantation went smoothly. When I woke up, I didn’t immediately feel any different. I was still me. The only change was that I could no longer say no to my parents’ demands. If they told me to get up at six to memorize vocabulary, I got up at six. If they told me to do three practice tests a day, I did three practice tests. If they told me to go to piano and advanced math on the weekend, I grabbed my backpack and went. My grades started to improve rapidly. My monthly exam ranking shot from twentieth into the top ten. Mom held my report card, her eyes gleaming. “That’s wonderful!” She stroked my head. “This is our good daughter.” And to reward me, she suddenly suggested, “Come on, Mom’s taking you to get burgers. Didn’t you always beg for them?” I paused. I had vague memories of that, tugging on her sleeve, standing in front of a brightly lit red sign, pleading for a burger. Only to be pulled away without explanation. She said it was junk food. Now, she was proactively taking me there. We sat in the bright restaurant. She pushed a tray towards me, holding a golden burger, fries, and a soda. “Eat,” she said, smiling, with a warm anticipation in her eyes. I looked at the burger. A pale blue analysis interface automatically appeared in my vision: [High calories, saturated fatty acids exceeding limits, insufficient dietary fiber. Recommended intake: zero.] I looked up and replied in a steady voice, “According to the health management program analysis, this is junk food and detrimental to health.” “I decline to consume it.” Mom’s smile froze on her face. She looked at me for a few seconds, then suddenly laughed again, this time more heartily. “Right, right, right, can’t eat it! See how useful this system is? It helps you control your cravings! So good!” She seemed very happy, took the burger back, and ate it herself. I sat quietly until she finished. When we got home, she said she would make me soup, the lotus root and pork rib soup I used to love most. She bustled around in the kitchen. I followed my directives, sitting at the dining table and waiting. Suddenly, with a clang, followed by Mom’s sharp intake of breath. She had accidentally knocked over the pot lid, and hot water splashed out, reddening the back of her hand. She frowned, instinctively putting her hand under the faucet to rinse it, then glanced back at me. I remained seated, looking straight ahead, my face maintaining the calm expression programmed into me. Her frown deepened. “Lily,” her voice held a hint of suspicion. “Mom burned her hand, didn’t you see?”

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I’m a straightforward, love-struck girl who only falls for powerful people. The brilliant, unattainable genius shamed me for my bad grades. I thought he was so charming. My fault, I’m too dumb. I’ll learn. My super-handsome first love cheated on me with a glamorous, curly-haired woman. I thought he had great taste. My fault, I’m too lacking in competitiveness. I’ll learn. My rich ex-boyfriend dumped me for being too broke. I thought he was so smart. My fault, I wasn’t working hard enough. I’ll learn. But then, the three of them got into a huge fight over who would get back with me, and I just felt annoyed. Like I said, I’m a straightforward, love-struck girl who only falls for powerful people. But now I’m good-looking, rich, and talented. I’m the most powerful! The day Ethan transferred to our school, the whole class buzzed. He looked handsome and refined, tall and well-built, with fair skin. In our small town, where two-thirds of the class were from less affluent backgrounds, he truly stood out. The entire class instantly fell for him, except for me! My deskmate, Sophia, nudged me, her face flushed. “He looks like an actor from a TV show!” I didn’t pay attention. Because I was busy carefully changing my 30-point math test to an 80-point. There was no room for error. If my mom found out, my favorite snack for tonight would be gone. But just as I was in the zone, making the change look completely natural, Ethan bumped my desk — and my snack fell. I stiffly looked up, watching him take the seat in front of me. He casually glanced at me, then meticulously wiped his desk with a fragrant tissue. What a jerk! That was my first impression of him. This class was a test, and Mr. Harrison, our homeroom teacher, handing out the papers stopped the trash talk forming on my tongue. I quieted down because I was waiting to copy Sophia’s answers. Mr. Harrison went to the restroom midway through, and Ethan’s deskmate bravely spoke to him. “Only twenty minutes, and you finished?” “Too easy.” What a show-off! That was my second impression of him. Ethan’s deskmate asked hopefully. “Then, can I copy yours?” “Whatever.” Ethan’s answers quickly spread throughout the entire class, even Sophia copied them. But I found him smug and arrogant, and still held a grudge over my snack, so I unilaterally decided we were enemies. Stubbornly, I decided to write my own answers! As a result, that day, everyone in class passed or got high scores, except for me. And me? Mr. Harrison dragged me to his office. He yelled, asking if I’d answered the test with my feet to get a 15. I hung my head, listening with one ear and letting it out the other, my mind on Ethan. I was shocked he really got a perfect score on the physics test in twenty minutes. So impressive! That was my third impression. When I returned to the classroom, my seat was already taken. A crowd eagerly surrounded Ethan, their eyes gleaming with admiration. It was the first time I’d seen such expressions on my usually lifeless classmates. Ethan sat back, arms loosely crossed. He’d glance at a question and casually answer the problems, whether simple or complex. His handwriting was beautiful, his voice clear, and his appearance outstanding. The golden-orange sunset cast a glow on his features. He seemed to sweep his eyes over me. A never-before-seen charm impacted my heart. I was captivated. Ethan’s name spread throughout the school, love letters rained down like snowflakes. “Hey, can you give this love letter to Ethan for me?” Returning from the restroom, a girl blushingly handed me a pink envelope. I blushed too. Deliver a love letter? Then I’d get to talk to him! So I took on the task. Yes, I was an introverted person, and despite being captivated, I still hadn’t managed to talk to him. I mentally prepared myself, cleared my throat, and called him. “Ethan.” He casually looked my way. The words I’d planned stumbled out, a nervous mess. He saw the letter in my hand and paused. His gaze then swept over my 15-point test on my desk, and he raised an eyebrow in surprise. He scrutinized me as if I were a rare specimen. “15 points? Are you a paramecium?” Suppressed laughter erupted around us. The glaring red numbers suddenly felt piercing. My face burned. I quickly mumbled, head down. “It’s a love letter. A classmate from the next class asked me to give it to you!” “Oh.” Ethan shrugged. “Could you do me a favor and throw it away?” Ethan was different from others. Even when he mocked me, he had extraordinary charm. I felt self-conscious and blamed myself. I couldn’t live so miserably under his nose, breathing the same air as him. So I decided to study hard.

That weekend when I went home, my mom saw me struggling with my books and was so happy she could practically do a happy dance. She didn’t even scold me for my 15-point test. My dad just shook his head, grumbling. “If you ask me, studying is useless with your brain. You might as well come home early and learn to farm, then find a boy to settle down with, that’s more practical.” My dad used to be abusive, an alcoholic, and favored boys. When he saw I was a girl, he wanted to give me away. But after a particularly violent argument with my mom, something shifted in him. He completely turned his life around. He started treating me like his precious gem, hoping I’d achieve great things and build a strong family legacy. “What do you know? You’re so short-sighted.” My mom scoffed. Then she turned to me and said she’d buy a brighter lamp for me tomorrow in town, so I wouldn’t strain my eyes studying at night. She even pulled out some bills from her pocket, telling me to buy study materials. I nodded enthusiastically. “So, tonight’s snack…” “No.” I started listening intently in class, taking notes, and submitting homework on time. I even stayed in class to review during my favorite P.E. lessons. Sophia was surprised by my transformation. “You’ve changed your tune!” She raised her voice. “Don’t tell me you’re using studying as an excuse to ask Ethan for help?” “No!” I buried my head in my textbook, my heart pounding. Ethan’s deskmate turned around and scoffed. “You girls are so cunning, you’ll do anything to get Ethan’s attention.” Ethan’s gaze landed on the top of my head. “Hmm, I am a little curious about the upper limit of a paramecium.” Ugh, his voice was so nice. His delicate, pale fingers tapped my test paper. “Here, that’s wrong.” He offered, as if bestowing a favor. “You can ask if you have questions, just like those other girls.” “Watching you all fight over me is occasionally quite entertaining.” Oh, he’s so nice, but I couldn’t agree to it. Being near him, hearing his voice, I couldn’t think straight. Even sitting behind him, I couldn’t help but get distracted. After much deliberation, I painfully asked Mr. Harrison to change my seat. The front row VIP spot. As I packed my books, the entire class stared at me in shock. Even Ethan gave me a complex look, staring for an extra moment. My secret crush and my studies progressed side by side, and soon a year had passed. After immersing myself in my studies for so long, on the day the final exam results came out, I actually just barely made the cut to get into the same top-tier high school in the state as Ethan. The only catch was, he was in the honors class, and I was in the lowest-ranked class. Mr. Harrison teared up, using me as a legend to future students. My parents called every relative they had and celebrated like I’d won the lottery. Only I felt a mix of joy and worry. Joy because I’d see my idol again. Worry because: barely making it in, how could I claim to be from the same school as my idol? I wasn’t good enough, I had to keep striving. Day and night studying began again. I didn’t even let the holidays stop me. Whenever I got tired, I’d grab my vocabulary book and secretly find a corner to stake out Ethan. Just to catch a glimpse of him. He was voted “Campus Heartthrob” and was still the center of attention. Boys tried to get close, girls crushed on him. I liked him so much. Occasionally, I’d stare for too long and get noticed by Ethan and his friends. His friend would sneer, “Another fangirl, Ethan, do you know her?” Ethan would look at me and let out a dismissive chuckle. “Just a simple-minded paramecium.” My face turned red again, but his voice was as pleasant as ever! Days turned into weeks, then months, years passed by. My college entrance exam results came out. I was the top student in the state. My parents’ phones were ringing off the hook with calls from universities across the country. The school put up banners of honor, and the state and school gave me prize money. Everything felt like a dazzling fireworks display. I was a bit dazed. It wasn’t until I stood at the university entrance, face-to-face with Ethan, that I felt a sense of grounding. That’s right, I wasn’t a genius, but I had some intelligence and a lot of effort. My scores had steadily climbed, and by the third mock exam, I was tied with Ethan. Problems Ethan solved effortlessly, I also solved with ease. When Ethan chatted effortlessly, I could just as easily apply those theorems and formulas. Even for the big problems Ethan hesitated on, I had some ideas. Getting into Beacon University was a given. Winning by a hair, a given. I was thrilled. Finally, I was worthy of confessing to Ethan!

“Long time no see, I’m Chloe.” I spoke first. Ethan looked at me intently, a faint, strange resentment in his eyes. “You think I’d forget?” I didn’t understand, and eagerly confessed my long-held feelings. “Um, actually, I’ve liked you for many years.” His expression became even stranger. “Are you saying you worked so hard to surpass me just to pursue me?” I nodded firmly. “Only someone excellent enough can be worthy of you.” Ethan was silent. “You want to be with me?” His eyes seemed to flicker with encouragement. I looked up, a little excited, but then I suddenly noticed that the aura around Ethan had disappeared. “I…” Just as I hesitated, about to admit it, a group of foreign students squeezed into the international student registration area. As I moved to avoid them, I suddenly felt my rear lightly but distinctly pinched. At the same moment, a girl shrieked. “Who’s got grabby hands?” A few foreign students smirked, their eyes brazenly scanning our bodies. They spoke in French, which I didn’t understand. One of them even pointed at me, snickering lewdly. The girl was furious, stamping her foot, and demanded in English. The foreign students, emboldened, shrugged and finally spoke in English. “You say it was us? Got any proof?” The girl decisively turned her head to me. “You got touched too, didn’t you?” Countless eyes fixed on me. But I was a timid, easily rattled person who avoided trouble. That was always the policy for kids from less affluent backgrounds when they were away from home. Seeing this, Ethan silently stepped in front of me, shielding me from their stares. The foreign students smirked in triumph. “Heard you local girls love foreign guys, even for free. Is that you too?” “How much for a night?” The girl’s face flushed crimson with rage. Some people who couldn’t stand it tried to argue, but the foreign students just spoke in French, leaving them powerless. Until a young man named Julian appeared. The Student Council members seemed to find their backbone, visibly relieved. Julian gently comforted the girl for a few moments. Then his face hardened, and he looked sternly at the foreign students. Though tall, he still seemed slender compared to the group of nearly six-foot-three white men. But his presence showed no weakness. He conversed with the foreign students in fluent, firm French. Their arrogance gradually turned into bluster. Julian pulled out a statement and made a phone call. The big, burly white men’s faces changed; they exchanged glances. They grudgingly apologized to the girl, quickly registered, and slunk away. “Hmph, these foreign students still think they have privileges like before, but the Ministry of Education and the school have issued management announcements.” “It’s a good thing Julian arrived in time this time, otherwise we’d just be forced to accept it again.” The freshmen were full of curiosity and admiration. “Is he the Student Council President?” “Yes, Julian is a school legend, fluent in four languages, the student representative and planner for the college.” “He wins awards constantly, manages event projects flawlessly, and even brought in $100,000 in sponsorship for orientation.” “It feels like there’s nothing he can’t handle. I heard even the strictest Dean Thompson praised him, and several top-tier companies have extended job offers.” The Student Council members were full of praise and reverence. Julian, at the center of the crowd, was charming and approachable, a true gentleman. With just a few words, he lifted the girl’s bad mood, and she offered a shy smile. I whispered Julian’s name. For the second time in my life, I was captivated, my heart completely drawn to him. Ethan remembered the unfinished conversation. “Right, you still haven’t answered. Confessing to me, do you want to take things further?” I hesitated for two seconds. Looking over his shoulder, I saw Julian suddenly walking our way. My mind went into a frenzy, and I blurted out something random. “No, I didn’t mean that. I think love is about adapting to circumstances.” Ethan: ?

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