Author: Momo Chan

Things with Lionel got intense. So intense that he slammed his head against the nightstand and passed out cold. When he woke up, something was… off. He stopped clinging to me, treating me like a cat he suddenly discovered he was allergic to. A few words from me and his ears would turn crimson before he’d bristle and bolt. After two weeks of being sexually ghosted, I was sure he’d found someone new. I decided to end our contract early. But before I even reached his study, I heard him on the phone. “I went to sleep eighteen and woke up twenty-seven. That’s one hell of a long nap.” “I know I sound crazy, but the girl I was secretly in love with is suddenly my girlfriend. She asks me every night if I want to sleep with her. How is a guy supposed to handle that?” The girl he was in love with? Was he talking about me? I thought this was just a transaction. I stared down at the contract in my hands, my mind reeling. 1 Lionel had been acting strange lately. It started a week ago, the night he got back from a business trip. In the middle of a rather… enthusiastic reunion, his head connected with the solid oak of the nightstand, and he went out like a light. For a horrifying second, I thought he’d died of pleasure. I breathed a sigh of relief when I found out it was just a concussion. But what followed was even stranger. It was like a completely different person woke up in that hospital bed. The moment he was conscious, I rushed over with a thermos of his favorite simple broth. But as I lifted the spoon to his lips, he flinched so hard he rolled right off the bed. The IV line ripped from his arm, his face flushed a furious red, and he just lay there, a tangled mess of limbs and sheets. It was chaos. A moment later, his assistant, Mr. Wright, stepped out of the room. “Miss Meryl,” he said, “Mr. Thorne would like you to go home. He’ll be back later.” Clutching the now-tepid thermos, I peeked into the room. Our eyes met for a fraction of a second before Lionel violently snapped his head away. A pained yelp was followed by a nurse’s shriek. “Sir, did you just sprain your neck again?!” I was worried about Lionel. More specifically, I was worried about Lionel’s… performance. This was my job, after all. If my benefactor wasn’t up to the task, my purpose here was pretty much nonexistent. The job market was a nightmare, and a benefactor as handsome, wealthy, and low-maintenance as Lionel was a rare find. So, I went home and put on my A-game. I pulled out all the stops, making myself look absolutely irresistible. But for two days, there was no sign of him. My calls went straight to voicemail. A knot of anxiety tightened in my stomach. Damn it, am I about to be unemployed? I switched tactics and called Mr. Wright. Bless that man. He patched me through to Lionel without a second thought. “Work’s been busy the last couple of days, I…” Before he could finish, I let a soft, shaky sob escape my lips. “I just wanted to see the wound on your head. I was so worried about you.” Silence on the other end. My damsel-in-distress act had never failed me with him. That evening, Lionel came home. But from the moment he walked in, his face was a stone mask. He’d always been a bit cold, but usually, there was a warmth in his eyes you couldn’t miss. Now, he just looked… tense. Deliberately so. “You must be exhausted from work,” I began, breaking the strange silence as I walked toward him, my hand outstretched. “Your head just healed, you shouldn’t overdo it…” Before my fingers could even brush his sleeve, he sidestepped me with flawless precision. I stumbled forward, my hand closing on empty air. I stood there for a moment, stunned, the feeling in my empty palm slowly turning to a cold dread in my gut. Our relationship was built on a transaction, yes, but his obsession and affection for me had always made me feel like the one in charge. The man used to be like velcro the second he saw me. He wouldn’t just let me touch him; he’d practically wanted me surgically attached to his hip to satisfy his insatiable appetite. And now… Alarm bells screamed in my head. It was over. My charm had worn off. Lionel looked deeply uncomfortable. “The wound’s almost healed,” he stammered. “Let’s… let’s eat first.” 2 I placed a freshly shucked oyster on Lionel’s plate. His hand trembled as he picked up the small fork. I watched him, my expression unreadable. His head was bowed, his focus entirely on the task of lifting the oyster. The fork slipped. The oyster fell back onto the plate. After two more failed attempts, the tips of his ears were burning a shade of crimson. Finally, with a shaky hand, he managed to get it into his mouth. A small sigh of relief escaped me. Okay, he’s still willing to eat what I give him. I haven’t been completely cast aside. But the rest of the meal was suffocating. Whatever I put on his plate, he ate, his eyes never leaving it. It wasn’t until the platters were nearly empty that I realized he was so full he looked like he was about to be sick. After dinner, I sent the housekeeper home. Taking a deep breath, I slipped into the sheer lavender nightgown. It was his favorite, the one I reserved for moments when I wanted a new designer bag. Tonight, I needed to know if he was still functional. Good news: He was. Bad news: He took one look at me, got a massive nosebleed, and ran away with a very obvious problem in his pants. I sat on the edge of the bed like a useless husband, listening to the roar of his sports car fading into the distance. Just moments ago, I’d emerged from the closet as he was walking into the bedroom. Our eyes met. His gaze was glued to my body; mine was glued to his crotch. Then, a line of crimson trickled from his nose. Our eyes widened in unison. “Lionel…” I scrambled for a tissue, but he was already in a full-blown panic. He clamped one hand over his nose and held the other up at me like a traffic cop. “Don’t come any closer!” His sudden shout made me freeze. He stumbled backward, still clutching his nose. “I just remembered I have something urgent at the office,” he said, his voice muffled. “You… you go to sleep.” 3 The sound of the car disappeared completely. I slumped, defeated, and peeled off the nightgown. As much as I hated to admit it, the truth was staring me in the face. Lionel had lost interest. Otherwise, knowing him, we’d be shaking the damn headboard off the bed by now. I pulled out my phone and opened a job search app. The first listing I saw was for three thousand a month, with no benefits. My vision went black for a second. Just as I was resigning myself to the fact that my life in a gilded cage was about to be traded for the rat race, Lionel came back. It was noon the next day. I’d given up and slept in until eleven. When I came downstairs, he was already sitting at the dining table. He looked up. I froze, my hair a certifiable bird’s nest. My brain short-circuited. I spun around and bolted back up the stairs. Damn it! He always gave me a heads-up before. In two years, I had never let him see me like this. It was always full makeup, perfect hair, my best self. And now, not only had I lost his favor, but he’d seen me at my absolute worst. I gave up, did a half-hearted tidy-up, and went back down. Lionel was still there. “Meryl. Good morning,” he said, his voice halting. I was too dejected to care anymore. I slumped into the chair beside him. “I’m sorry,” he said, looking at my eyes carefully. “I didn’t mean to just leave like that last night. Have you been crying?” I touched my eyelids, resisting the urge to roll my eyes. It was my new “peach blossom” makeup, a soft, pinkish hue at the corners of my eyes meant to look alluringly fragile. He thought I’d cried my eyes out. I almost laughed out loud. Has he been replaced by an idiot? The real Lionel would never ask such a dumb question. When I didn’t answer, he produced a massive designer bag from behind his back. “Don’t be angry. This is for you.” My eyes lit up. I opened the bag and almost gasped. So many purses. Why was he being so generous? It wasn’t that he was usually cheap—he’d given me a supplementary credit card, after all—but he usually just wired me the money and let me buy things myself. I lovingly picked up each bag, one by one. Then, a wave of horror washed over the excitement. Was this… a golden parachute? A severance package? The more I thought about it, the more plausible it seemed. The beautiful leather in my hands suddenly felt cold. Lionel watched my face. “You don’t like them?” he asked, his voice laced with caution. I forced a smile. “No, of course not. Are you… coming home to sleep tonight?” The question dropped the temperature in the room back to freezing. Lionel’s gaze darted away. “The office is really busy right now. I’ll probably have to stay there for a while…” My heart turned to ice. It was such a flimsy excuse, the kind of polite refusal adults use to soften the blow. So it was true. These ridiculously expensive bags were my goodbye present. For the next few days, Lionel made a point to come home for dinner. But that was it. Just dinner. Every time I tried to initiate any kind of physical contact, he would jump back like a spooked cat, his whole body on high alert. Staying the night was completely out of the question. After several failed attempts, I opened the job app again. I’d just managed to negotiate that soul-crushing three-thousand-a-month job up to thirty-two hundred when Lionel showed up again. I put my phone down, deciding to give it one last shot. If he pushed me away this time, I was done. “Do you like them?” He’d brought a bouquet of brilliant yellow roses. Yellow roses. A symbol of parting and goodbyes. I sighed. I didn’t even have the energy to take off my coat and reveal the lingerie I was wearing underneath. He was practically screaming at me to get the hint and leave. What was I even fighting for? Lionel had a huge appetite. For the past two years, I’d woken up nearly every morning with my legs feeling like jelly as he carried me to the shower. But he hadn’t touched me in weeks, yet he looked more vibrant than ever, like he’d shed ten years. He must be getting his fill elsewhere. He’d found a new canary, one he liked more, one he was obsessed with. That’s why he wouldn’t touch me, why he was dropping all these hints for me to leave. I took the flowers, managing a weak smile. “I love them.” Then I turned, mumbled something about changing, and went to my room. I took off the tempting lingerie and pulled our contract from the nightstand drawer. We’d signed it two years ago, renewable annually. It was set to expire next month. I’d planned on renewing it after his trip, but now… there was no point. A bitter smile touched my lips as I unfolded the document. Honestly, I was going to miss this. I had no real feelings for Lionel, but a man that handsome who was also a walking ATM, great in bed, and completely discreet? He was a unicorn. I took a deep breath and walked toward the study with the contract in hand. I may have sold my time and my body, but I still had my pride. The contract was clear: if either party wanted to end the relationship or found another partner, the agreement was void. I was ending it. Time to start my new life at thirty-two hundred a month. Lionel wasn’t in the living room. I checked the driveway from the window; his car was still there. Where could he be? Just as I was wondering, I heard his voice, tinged with frustration, coming from around the corner, from the study. “How’s it going with that neurosurgeon in Europe? Did you get me an appointment?” “I know he’s hard to book, but you can’t just let your friend live like this, completely out of his mind, can you?” I went to sleep eighteen and woke up twenty-seven. All the memories in between are just… gone. Wiped clean.” “The company stuff is the least of my worries. I can figure out the paperwork if I try hard enough. The real problem is my girlfriend.” My hand, the one holding the contract, trembled. A woman’s intuition is never wrong. Especially a beautiful woman’s intuition. Lionel really did have a new girlfriend. But what did he mean, eighteen to twenty-seven? Before I could puzzle it out, I heard my own name. “When did I start dating her? Haven’t I told you? It’s Meryl. Yeah, Meryl. I probably kept it from you because I was afraid you’d try to steal her.” He sighed. “Now my girlfriend asks me every night if I want to sleep with her.” “I know, it should be a dream come true. The girl I’ve been secretly in love with is my girlfriend. But I’m terrified I’ll blow my cover. I’m so wound up I feel like I’m going to explode, but I don’t dare touch her.” I was completely bewildered. Secretly in love? With me? What was he talking about? I couldn’t make sense of any of it. He was still complaining, his voice thick with misery. “You think I’m crazy too, right? I do. You have no idea what it’s like, watching her walk around all day, looking so damn cute. She even gets all dolled up just to seduce me. I can’t take it. That’s why I can’t even come home most nights.” “I’m just telling you, don’t you dare picture it.” I stared at the contract in my hand, a wild thought taking root. Wait a second. If what Lionel was saying was true… Then I wasn’t about to be unemployed. I was about to get a promotion. “You have to find a way. I need to get my memory back, fast. If Meryl finds out and breaks up with me, I’ll hang myself from your front door the next day.” The call ended. His footsteps grew closer. I clutched the contract and scurried back to my room. Once inside, I shoved the contract back into the drawer, my thoughts a tangled mess. Lionel and I had never met before our arrangement, at least not in my memory. The first time was at a café where my boss was tearing into me for dropping a tray of glasses. Lionel appeared out of nowhere, his broad back shielding me from the verbal assault, and pulled me out of that miserable life. When he offered to cover all of my dog’s vet bills, I didn’t hesitate. I went online and printed out a standard sugar-baby contract template. He barely blinked before signing his name. My dog, my only family, didn’t make it in the end. But my arrangement with Lionel continued, undefined and strange. Sometimes, when he’d take me to galas, other women would tell me with envy in their eyes how much he clearly adored me. I never believed them. I always thought he was just infatuated with my body. But now… I opened my closet, his words echoing in my head. An eighteen-year-old Lionel, in love with me. What would he like? I decided to test his story myself. My eyes landed on a schoolgirl outfit. I thought back to my own eighteenth year and pulled my hair into a high, neat ponytail. “Meryl, lunch is ready…” Just as I finished changing, Lionel’s voice came from outside the door. I glanced in the mirror. My face was bare, and the uniform made me look like I’d stepped back in time. My heart hammered against my ribs. I took a deep breath and opened the door.

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When I was twenty-five, I had a child with Karl Hosein, the scion of a powerful family. Our vastly different worlds meant we had no future, so I took the money and resources his family offered and broke it off. It wasn’t until five years later, during a break on a film set, that a boy eerily similar to Karl approached me. His little mouth was downturned, a mix of hurt and childish arrogance. “My dad is Karl Hosein,” he said. “And you’re my mom.” I looked at him and simply hummed a soft, “Mhm.” He quickly pulled a thick wad of cash from his backpack, his eyes filled with a desperate plea. “I’ll hire you for one day. Please, will you come to my parent-teacher conference?” 1 I stared at the child holding the cash, momentarily speechless. I pressed my lips together and gently pushed his hand back. “I don’t want your money.” His eyes immediately welled up, and his voice grew softer and softer. “Grandma said you really like money, so I saved for a very, very long time to come find you.” He sniffed. “All the kids at kindergarten say I’m an orphan because I don’t have a mom… I always tell them I do, that my mom is a big movie star. But they always say I’m lying.” He looked down, his voice barely a whisper. “Even though you left me, I wasn’t lying. But they just don’t believe me…” He stood there, head bowed, his small body shaking with suppressed sobs. He wiped away a tear with his sleeve. I knelt down, cupped his face in my hands, and wiped his tears away. “I don’t want your money, but I can come.” His head shot up, his eyes bright. Incredulity warred with barely contained joy. He threw himself into my arms, burying his round head in the crook of my neck, and burst into fresh sobs, as if all the world’s injustices had suddenly come crashing down on him. I gently patted his back, trying to soothe him. When he’d finally cried himself out, he looked up, meeting my gaze. His cheeks flushed crimson, and he quickly averted his eyes, muttering awkwardly, “I don’t usually cry. I’m a big boy. I… I just couldn’t help it.” Watching him, I shook my head with a smile. “It’s okay. I don’t mind.” He smiled, a small, shy curve of his lips, and grabbed my hand. “My name is Henry Hosein,” he announced with enthusiasm. “My nickname is ‘Buzz.’ You can call me Buzz.” I smiled, gently smoothing his bangs. “I know.” He nodded, his round eyes sparkling. “You know my name?” I nodded again, affirming it. “I know.” His given name, Henry, had been chosen by Karl’s father. But “Buzz” was the nickname I’d given him. How could I not know? 2 I led him to my RV. My assistants, Sally and Mia, were inside, and their eyes lit up when they saw me with such a handsome child. “Sophie, where did you find this adorable kid?” Sally asked. I squeezed Buzz’s hand and said, with a nonchalant shrug, “He’s my son.” The smiles on their faces instantly froze. Panic flickered in their eyes. “What? Oh my goodness! Were we caught on camera?!” “If this gets out, it’s over!” Buzz, seeing my assistants’ distress, tugged anxiously at my sleeve. “Am I causing trouble for you?” At his words, Sally and Mia’s worried expressions melted into looks of remorse. I smiled, stroking Buzz’s soft hair. “Buzz isn’t trouble.” Sally and Mia quickly waved their hands. “No, no, we were just being silly, honey.” Buzz looked at me, then at the two assistants, and set his small backpack on the floor. He knelt, emptying the contents onto the floor: pajamas, a yellow cartoon umbrella, a water bottle, even his toothbrush, and the wad of cash. He’d clearly planned this. Then he rummaged back into his backpack and pulled out two cheese sticks, offering them to Sally and Mia. He looked up at them sweetly. “Here, sisters, for you.” The two assistants’ hearts melted. They gushed, their voices high with affection. “Oh, baby, you’re so sweet!” “Auntie loves cheese sticks!” Buzz beamed, then pulled out several more from his bag. “Then you can have all of Buzz’s cheese sticks.” After filming wrapped, I took Buzz back to my hotel room. It was then that I finally got the full story. This little guy had packed his backpack that morning and taken a taxi all the way from New York to Los Angeles. The driver had initially wanted to call the police, but Buzz had offered so much money that he’d eventually accepted the fare. Buzz had actually arrived that morning, but seeing how busy I was, he’d waited with my fans until I finished work. He’d waited all day, until evening. When the fans dispersed, he’d secretly waited by my RV. He was shoveling food into his mouth, clearly starving. My heart ached at the sight. I wanted to say something, but the words wouldn’t come. I couldn’t imagine how a child, all by himself, found the courage to take a taxi all that way. Three or four hours in a car—I couldn’t even begin to guess how anxious he must have been. My voice caught in my throat. “What if you’d gotten lost?” Buzz, his mouth full of rice, pointed to the smartwatch on his wrist, his voice muffled. He looked up at me, smiling. “I wouldn’t get lost! When I got in the car, I took a picture of the license plate with my smartwatch and sent it to Amy.” “And I kept calling Amy on my smart-toy watch.” Not only that, but he’d brought a power bank, just in case his smart-toy watch ran out of battery. The more nonchalantly he spoke, the more my heart twisted. He’d planned this so meticulously; his journey to find me must have been months in the making. He puffed out his chest proudly and started chattering about his best friend. “Amy is my deskmate at kindergarten. We’re best friends. I’m going to marry her when I grow up!” At that, I finally broke into a smile. “Next time you want to come find me, you can call me, and I’ll come pick you up.” I paused, then added, “If your dad agrees.” He nodded eagerly, humming a happy “Mhm.” 3 After dinner, I took him to the bathroom. Seeing me follow him inside, he tugged at his pants, his face flushing crimson. He mumbled and stammered, unable to form a complete sentence. I knew he was shy. I shook my head, amused. “I won’t watch you shower. Here’s your body wash, shampoo, and toothpaste. Can you wash yourself?” He nodded vigorously. “I can! I always shower by myself at home.” I stroked his hair. “Such a good boy.” Stepping out of the bathroom, I pulled out my phone and found a long-unused contact. [Buzz is with me.] A moment later, the reply came. [I know. He told me on his smartwatch.] Seeing the indifferent tone, my hands trembled with anger. But I had no right to scold him. [When are you coming to pick him up?] [I’m busy with meetings. Let him stay with you for a couple of days.] I bit my lip, taking a deep breath. My child was so unimportant to him. I had just typed out a furious retort when the bathroom door opened. Buzz, clutching his dirty clothes, scurried toward me. “Mommy, I’m all clean and sweet-smelling.” I deleted the unsent message and put away my phone. I picked up the hairdryer and started drying his hair. The little boy in the mirror squinted, a soft smile on his lips, his small legs dangling from the stool, looking utterly content. I smiled and ruffled his hair. After his hair was dry, I led him to the bed and kissed his forehead. “Alright, time to sleep. I’m going to go get ready for bed.” The duvet covered most of his face, only his bright, watery eyes visible. He nodded. When I finished my routine and came out, the small figure on the bed was happily rolling around, wrapped in the blanket. Seeing me, he quickly settled down, lying properly and patting the space beside him. I understood. I climbed into bed and pulled him into my arms. His little body felt so soft in my embrace. For some reason, this small child brought me an immense sense of satisfaction and happiness. I pulled the covers up around us and gently patted his back. As I patted, the little one in my arms quietly began to cry, his small hands gripping my nightgown tightly, as if afraid I’d disappear the next second. 4 A child’s sleepiness comes quickly. After crying in my arms, Buzz was asleep in no time. But I couldn’t sleep at all that night. My thoughts drifted back to many years ago. When I met Karl Hosein, I was a junior in film school, hustling for small roles, showing up at endless parties. My agent at the time offered me a shortcut. He said the company CEO was interested in me, willing to promote me, and asked if I was interested. There’s no such thing as a free lunch, and everyone knew the catch. But back then, I was young, full of pride, and naturally refused. That led to a quiet blacklisting. I couldn’t act in my company’s productions, and with my contract, I couldn’t act in anyone else’s either. But the five-million-dollar breach of contract fee was impossible for my family to pay, even if we sold everything. They cut off all my paths. My only option was to wait it out, because in their eyes, my youth was worthless. Then I met Karl Hosein. I was in the restroom, throwing up alcohol, feeling utterly miserable. He handed me a tissue and asked, “If you can’t take it anymore, you can come with me. I can give you everything you want.” I still refused. He just smiled, placing a business card in my hand. “If you change your mind, you can find me. At least I’m younger and better-looking than them, right? You wouldn’t be losing anything.” The turning point came when my father was in a car accident, injuring his leg so badly it had to be amputated. The pillar of our family had collapsed. I was sobbing uncontrollably in the hospital stairwell. That’s when Karl appeared again. He quietly lit a cigarette beside me. “Sophie,” he said, his voice flat. “Your pride isn’t worth much.” He was right. My pride wasn’t worth much. I ended up going with Karl. He paid my termination fee, placed me in a friend’s entertainment company, and found me the most professional agent in the industry. From then on, I was like a sparrow transformed into a phoenix. Gigs rolled in, high-fashion gowns became my everyday wear, and famous directors cast me without question. Those years, Sophie Vance was unstoppable. When our passion was at its peak, I once asked Karl why he chose me. He laughed, unrestrained, and said without hesitation, “Pure infatuation.” “I’m used to getting what I want. If I see something I like, I have to have it.” A simple reason: desire demanded possession. I knew clearly that Karl, born into wealth, was from a world entirely separate from mine. We each got what we needed; there was no right or wrong. So I desperately used his influence to climb higher. When love clouds judgment, I also once fantasized that maybe one day I would be worthy of standing beside him. But everything changed the day I found out I was pregnant. I joyfully told Karl the news. But his brow furrowed deeply. “Sophie,” he said, “I can’t give you a legal status.” “If you want to have the child, have it. I’ll be responsible for the child. If you don’t want to, you can terminate the pregnancy.” His words plunged me into an icy abyss. I did consider termination, but the bond of blood is a strange and powerful thing. I couldn’t bring myself to do it. After I gave birth, Karl’s mother, Mrs. Hosein, sought me out. She made it very clear that I had no place in Karl’s future. Knowing when to quit was the wisest choice. She sent my father to the best rehabilitation center abroad and gave me a blank check. She also offered me the lead role in a film by a renowned director, a man who wouldn’t ordinarily grant favors to Karl, but would to Mrs. Hosein. It was a world I could never have entered on my own. Betting on a future that had no future, versus accepting this tangible success—it was hard to refuse. But I didn’t say yes. The final blow in what I thought was my redemption came when I learned Karl was getting engaged. He never hid it from me. I asked him, “What about me, then?” He thought for a whole night, but gave me no answer. But I knew his answer. I could love money, but my principles wouldn’t allow me to be the other woman. So I broke up with him, taking everything Mrs. Hosein offered and cutting all ties with Karl Hosein. At the time, Karl asked, “I can give you what you want too. Why do it this way?” I smiled and told him, “You can’t give me what I want.” He lowered his head in silence.

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Five years after I faked my death, I was dying of cancer. I heard that Rocky Boyce, the cool and aloof heir of the Boyce fortune, was about to get engaged. The woman was someone he’d loved for many years. To celebrate, a company under Boyce Enterprises posted a giveaway: a random lucky winner would receive a million dollars. After much hesitation, I quietly commented. [Happy engagement. Wishing you happiness.] An hour later. As water overflowed from the bathtub, the phone rang. “Congratulations! You’ve won!” 1 I didn’t die. That phone call saved me. On the other end, the staff member was still cheerfully congratulating me. “You’re truly very lucky!” Lucky… Me? I struggled to sit up in the bathtub. The cut on my wrist was a bit deep; the entire tub was stained a pale red. “Please provide your bank details, and we’ll transfer the prize money to you within a month. Additionally, you’ll enjoy a year of discounts at all Boyce Enterprises establishments!” I should have smiled. But when I spoke, my voice was terribly weak. “Thank you, but I probably won’t need it…” The other end of the line was silent for two seconds, then the woman cautiously asked, “Are you alright? Do you need any help?” My brain, lightheaded from blood loss, felt dizzy. I pushed myself out of the tub, blood splattering on the floor. “I’m sorry… Could you please call 911 for me?” The ambulance arrived quickly. I had just returned from the hospital that morning and was back again that night. The doctor in charge, initially disapproving of my disregard for life, fell silent after pulling up my medical records. “Miss Vance,” she sighed. “I know you must be in a lot of pain right now, but… please, just hold on a little longer.” I stared at her blankly. Suddenly, I remembered someone else saying that to me once. But I was in such a bad place then, barely able to cope myself. In the end, I had chosen to flee. My younger sister, Anna, rushed over. When she saw me in the hospital bed, her eyes instantly reddened. “Sarah, are you trying to scare me to death?!” Just that morning, when we’d parted, I had promised her I would diligently undergo treatment. Even though our family’s situation meant we couldn’t afford the expensive medical bills. Anna’s parents had passed away in an earthquake five years ago. For years, we’d relied on each other, using our meager savings to open a flower shop, just barely making ends meet. When she learned of my illness, Anna cried. Then she wiped away her tears and said she would apply for a leave of absence from college and find a part-time job to take care of me. But how could I burden her? She was so young; she should be enjoying her youth at college, not being dragged down by me. “I’m sorry,” I apologized to her. “I’m just so tired.” Anna cried again. Just then, a sudden commotion erupted outside the emergency room. It sounded like there had been a car accident somewhere, and the injured were being brought to this nearest hospital. A nurse came to inform me that my room was ready. As I passed through the lobby, the news was playing on a large screen. Rocky Boyce, the Boyce heir, had spared no expense, set to hold his engagement party on a small island in the Caribbean in two months. In the interview, a reporter asked him why he chose that specific time and location. The usually cool and taciturn man gave a rare, soft chuckle. “Because she likes it.” Because she likes it. I pressed my lips together, remembering the phone call from a short while ago. The staff member’s voice had been lovely, and she had been very kind. When she realized I had cut my wrists, she’d briefly panicked before calling 911 for me. The phone hadn’t been hung up on the way to the hospital. She kept repeating in my ear, “Please don’t die! If you die, what about the million dollars?” “You’re the luckiest person I’ve ever met; I’m sure you’ll continue to be just as lucky!” I had wanted to thank her, to say, “Your company is so generous.” But then I remembered who her boss was, and the words caught in my throat. An engagement party on a tropical island, a random giveaway of a million dollars… Rocky Boyce, you really are as extravagant as ever. 2 From childhood to adulthood, I’ve always been unlucky. As a child, a fortune-teller said my life would be full of hardship, and my family ties would be thin. At my tenth birthday party, I accidentally fell into the cake, creating my first memorable social faux pas. During my high school entrance exams, I suffered from severe menstrual cramps on the last day, performed poorly, and failed to get into my dream prep school. It seemed like every crucial moment in my life, I stumbled. I didn’t inherit my mother’s striking beauty, nor my father’s sharp intellect. Back then, when people spoke of me, there was usually a prefix: “Ah, Rocky Boyce’s childhood friend.” Rocky’s name always shone brightly. We were childhood sweethearts, and our relationship was always strong. The day we announced our relationship caused quite a stir on social media. Besides personal factors, our families were old friends, a seemingly perfect match. It wasn’t until the year I graduated from college that I was exposed as a fake heiress. Two pregnant women had given birth at the same time, and a nurse’s mistake led to the babies being switched. The real heiress and my biological parents had already died in a car accident. From that moment on, my world changed irrevocably. My adoptive mother wept daily. In moments of emotional breakdown, she would blurt out, “Why wasn’t it you who died?” My adoptive father would sigh whenever he saw me, gently suggesting I move out for a while. The gossip of neighbors, the strange looks from the household staff… everything weighed down on me, suffocating me. At that time, my only solace was Rocky. He didn’t scorn my identity, nor did he care about the rumors. He defended me several times in public. Stream after stream of valuable gifts were sent to me, as if to tell everyone that he still stood by me. I once chided him for being extravagant. But Rocky just held me, burying his head in the crook of my neck, nuzzling. “I don’t care. Let’s see who dares to speak ill of you now.” We were so young then. Naively believing that love could overcome all obstacles. Until the Boyce family began to exert pressure, forcing him to break up with me. Rocky had just graduated college then, and had little say. He was constantly busy during that period. He followed his family’s arrangements and entered the company, desperate to prove himself, to earn their approval and his freedom to marry whom he chose. Several times, he would arrive late to our dates, looking utterly exhausted. I saw how tired he was, so during dinner, I tried every trick to cheer him up. But after I painstakingly concocted a joke and looked up, Rocky was already asleep in his chair across from me, exhausted. Rocky got busier and busier. Our conversations became fewer and farther between. He still sent me good morning and good night texts, asking if I had eaten properly. But I started to grow silent. After being openly ridiculed and subtly insulted at another party, I finally couldn’t take it anymore. I hid in the restroom and called him. But after he answered, before I could even speak, I heard Rocky’s tired but gentle voice. “What a coincidence, I was just about to call you.” He said the project he was leading had finally signed the contract today. It was his first major project since joining the company, and he had worked overtime for a month straight for it. After the successful signing, his father praised him for the first time in a long while, and his mother finally softened her stance. Noticing my prolonged silence, he suddenly paused. “What’s wrong? Did something happen?” “Nothing…” I tried very, very hard to suppress the torrent of grievances. I had wanted to say that those people’s words were truly awful. Those veiled, contemptuous glances felt like damp, heavy towels clinging to me, cold and suffocating. I wanted to say that I felt like I was losing the will to go on. But when I finally spoke, it was in a light, cheerful tone: “What could be wrong with me? I just miss you.” How could I burden him with my worries again? He was already working so hard to be with me. And I, I couldn’t help him at all. After that day, I refused all social engagements. For a time, I hated leaving the house. I started to fear other people’s stares. I drew all the curtains in the house. My appetite dwindled. In just two months, I lost over ten pounds. By the time Rocky finally realized something was wrong and rushed to my house, pulling me out of bed, I suddenly remembered that we hadn’t seen each other in over a week. “Did you eat dinner?” Rocky asked me. I thought about it. “No.” “Lunch?” “…No.” “What about breakfast?” Seeing me about to shake my head again, his face darkened. “When was the last time you ate?” I struggled to remember. “I think… last night? Or maybe noon…” I really couldn’t recall. Lately, my memory had been terrible. I’d forgotten to eat, forgotten to wash, forgotten to reply to Rocky’s messages. Even though I just lay in bed doing nothing, I felt incredibly tired. Rocky carried me to the bathroom and personally helped me wash up. Then he supervised me eating. “Chew properly, don’t just swallow.” But I was truly so tired. One meal took an hour to finish. After eating, I started to feel sleepy again. This time, Rocky didn’t leave. He slept beside me. In a state between waking and sleeping, I felt him holding me, whispering in my ear, “Just give me a little more time…” “I know you’re tired, but can you wait for me a little longer…?” From that day on, Rocky moved into my house. The apartment, a two-bedroom, one-bath, wasn’t large; I’d bought it in college. After Rocky arrived, my life began to regain its rhythm. Every day before work, he would prepare breakfast and lunch for me, making sure I ate on time. Every evening after work, he would rush back to have dinner with me, then drag me out for a walk. My physical condition visibly improved. But Rocky grew more and more exhausted. Until one day, during a meeting, he collapsed from low blood sugar. When I rushed to the hospital, Rocky’s mother was already there. When she saw me, her brow furrowed. I froze in place, awkward and helpless. “Hello, Mrs. Boyce…” She didn’t say anything unkind to me. She simply handed me a folder. Inside were profiles of potential marriage candidates she approved of, meticulously detailing their backgrounds and the family connections they could provide. She had, after all, watched me grow up, so she didn’t say anything too directly. But I understood her meaning. What do you have? I had nothing left. While waiting for Rocky to wake up, I thought about many things. For example, the apartment I bought in college—would I lose money if I sold it now? For example, my adoptive parents had raised me for years. Although they were currently struggling with the loss of their biological daughter, would they be sad if I left? And then, Rocky had already made so much effort for me. If I were to break up with him now, would I seem heartless? How… how would I even break up with him? Time seemed to stretch endlessly in that moment. By the time Rocky woke up, I had thought of everything. The first second his eyes opened and he saw me, before he could even offer a smile, I spoke. “Rocky, let’s break up.” 3 A profound silence filled the hospital room. After a long moment, Rocky slowly propped himself up and sat up in bed. “Take that back now, and I can pretend I never heard it.” I shook my head. “Rocky, let’s break up.” “…” Another long silence. I couldn’t bring myself to look into his eyes. Thinking he must be thirsty after just waking, I poured him a glass of water. After placing the glass on his bedside table, I turned to leave, but he caught my hand. From behind me, Rocky quietly asked, “Has being with me… made you so miserable?” I remained silent. When Rocky finally looked up again, his eyes were red-rimmed. His voice was almost a plea. “Can’t you… hold on a little longer?” Can’t you hold on a little longer? Just for him, can’t you hold on a little longer? “Rocky…” I sighed. His grip on my hand was tight, yet I pushed him away with surprising ease. “Just let me go.” Let me go, and let yourself go too. I’ve always been an unlucky person. After losing my adoptive parents, I lost Rocky. In the period immediately after our breakup, Rocky was constantly worried about me. When he saw things I liked, he would still buy them and have them sent to me. When I asked him about it, he’d say, “Can’t ordinary friends send gifts to each other?” Yes. Of course. I turned around and sold everything. I realized this couldn’t go on. So I signed up for a rural teaching program, hoping a change of scenery would help me clear my head. A few months after arriving, there was an earthquake, and I nearly lost my life. Many people died in that earthquake. In the rubble, I found Anna, whose parents and relatives had all perished. She was eight years younger than me and needed a guardian. So, I, the survivor, took on the identity of Anna’s older sister. I was no longer Sarah Vance; I was just Anna. But even with a new name, bad luck clung to me like a shadow. At twenty-seven, I was diagnosed with cancer, my time running out. Yet now, someone was telling me I was the luckiest person she had ever met. 4 A million dollars. Yes, I was certainly lucky. When Anna heard about it, she was overjoyed, tears streaming down her face. “We have money for your treatment!” Yes, how wonderful. Just when I needed money, someone came and gave it to me. The room next door was occupied by a car accident victim. I saw medical staff going in and out, suggesting the patient was someone important. After two days of recovery, the doctor finally allowed me to leave. Before I left, though, she earnestly urged me to continue treatment. My flower shop had been closed for two days, missing several pre-orders. I apologized to each customer, promising free flowers on their next visit. The flower shop was just across the street from the hospital, so many visitors would stop by to buy flowers. The moment I opened the shop today, I received a large order. The flowers requested were the most expensive, and a high delivery fee was paid. The destination was a specific room in the hospital. I glanced at it, and it turned out to be the one right next to mine. Rushing to package everything, the sky was already dimming. When I reached the hospital room door, two bodyguards stood outside. After a quick check, they let me in. Pushing the door open, I saw the patient on the bed reading. Hearing the door, he looked up at me. The moment our eyes met, I froze, awkward and helpless, just like I had years ago. I hadn’t expected to see Rocky Boyce here. This was our first meeting in five years. But Rocky seemed not to recognize me. He merely glanced at me indifferently, then returned his gaze to his book, turning a page. “Just put the flowers over there.” Seeing me still staring foolishly, he seemed to remember something. “Oh, thank you.” His tone was gentle. “You must be tired.” It wasn’t until I left the room that I realized I had unconsciously bitten my lower lip. A faint, sweet, metallic taste filled my mouth. Just then, someone came to visit Rocky. As we brushed past each other, I heard her cheerfully ask, “How are you doing today? Feeling better?” Rocky finally put down his book and looked up at her, smiling. “No, I still can’t remember.” “Then what about the engagement party in two months?” The hospital room door closed, and I couldn’t hear what they were saying inside. I just thought to myself, What a beautiful girl. She’s even prettier in person than in photos. She must be his fiancée… As I left the hospital, I overheard the nurses at the station discussing it. The patient in room 416, they said, was very wealthy, admitted after a car accident. During the accident, he had hit his head, causing a blood clot that pressed on a nerve, resulting in partial memory loss. He’d forgotten many people and events. After a brief shock, I felt a little lost. So he hadn’t deliberately ignored me… Rocky… he had really forgotten me. I lowered my eyes. I didn’t know whether to feel relieved or disappointed. 5 After that day, the flower shop’s business suddenly boomed. It seemed like ever since my cancer diagnosis, my luck had turned. On the winter solstice, I received several large orders. By the time I finished, it was already dark. Anna was staying at her college dorm and wouldn’t be home tonight. After tidying up and closing the shop, I hesitated for a moment, then decided to buy a cake. My birthday was on the winter solstice. In the past, when we were dating, Rocky used to joke that the first snowfall of the year told him my birthday was near. This year was no different. By the time I reached the cake shop, it was almost closing time. The clerk looked apologetic, saying the last cake had just been sold. I was disappointed but nodded. As I turned to leave, the clerk suddenly answered her phone, then quickly called me back. “Please wait!” I turned, puzzled. Then I heard her say that a customer who had pre-ordered a cake had just called, saying something came up and they couldn’t pick it up. It was a four-inch strawberry chocolate birthday cake. Not too big, not too small, just enough for one person. “You’re really lucky,” the clerk smiled at me. I looked at the neatly packaged cake, feeling that this sudden stroke of luck was a little surreal. Leaving the cake shop, a car passed on the opposite side of the road, its window slowly rising. I unintentionally glanced at it, paused for half a second, then instinctively chased after it. I accidentally bumped into someone on the way and quickly apologized. “I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry…” But my steps didn’t stop. I didn’t even notice the cake was getting squashed. Just then, the traffic light ahead turned red, and the car stopped. After seeing the license plate, I abruptly halted. It wasn’t that number. I was panting heavily. It wasn’t him… The spot where I had bumped into someone suddenly started to hurt. Tears welled up for no reason. Just then, the girl I had bumped into caught up to me, startled. “Are you okay? You’re bleeding!” I instinctively looked down. It was my old wound, reopened. No wonder it hurt so much. The girl insisted on taking me to the hospital. Fearing she’d think I was faking an injury for money, I quickly told her she didn’t need to pay my medical bills. The nearest hospital was the one where Rocky was staying. At the hospital, the doctor, seeing me again, was at her wit’s end. I was still carrying the squashed cake, feeling a little embarrassed. This birthday was turning out to be quite eventful. When I came out after getting my wound re-bandaged, an unexpected figure appeared outside the emergency room. It was Rocky. Our eyes met, I froze for a second, then instinctively looked down to avoid his gaze. I wondered what he was doing downstairs so late. The girl who bumped into me went to pay the bill. I found a chair and sat down, intending to wait for her to return and transfer her the money. Before long, a shadow fell over me. A tall figure sat down beside me. My body stiffened. The hospital lobby was still bustling with people, even at night. But I felt like I was sitting on pins and needles. Until the person beside me suddenly spoke. “The cake…” “Huh?” I quickly looked up. Rocky reached out and pointed at the cake box in my hand. “Why did it collapse?” he asked, his tone almost regretful. “Oh…” I licked my lips, feeling a little flustered. “I bumped into something.” The person beside me was silent for two seconds. Then he spoke again. “Is today your birthday?” “Yes.” I nodded slightly. “Happy birthday.” “Thank you.” He wished me happy birthday, just like he would a stranger. Just then, the girl who had gone to pay the bill returned. I quickly pulled her aside and transferred the medical expenses to her. When I turned back, I saw Rocky’s fiancée, Iris Miller, coming down. “Rocky, do you have any sense of being a patient? What are you wandering around for?” I didn’t dare listen anymore, ready to flee in embarrassment. But then I suddenly heard someone call out— “Sarah.” 6 Time seemed to freeze at that moment. A flurry of thoughts flashed through my mind. I stiffly turned around and looked at Rocky. “This, is this yours?” Rocky’s expression remained calm. He pointed to the payment slip left on the seat and smiled at me. “It has your name on it, Sarah.” I bit my lip, walked over, and picked up the payment slip. I looked down and said, “Thank you for the reminder.” I didn’t dare look at him again. When I left the hospital, the snow outside was falling harder. By the time I got home, my shoe soles were soaked, and my socks clung to my feet. I lowered my head and changed my shoes. Anna’s call came in as I was lighting the candles on the cake. The cake had collapsed, looking a bit ugly, but it was still edible. Anna keenly noticed something was off. “What’s wrong with your voice? Why do you sound so stuffy?” “Nothing,” I sniffled. “I just feel so cold. On the way home earlier… it was really cold.” Anna didn’t ask further, just told me to wear more layers so I wouldn’t catch a cold. After lighting the candles, she put her phone on speaker, and she and her roommates loudly sang “Happy Birthday” to me. “Thank you, everyone,” I smiled. Outside, fireworks suddenly burst into the sky. I took a slice of cake and walked out to watch. Hearing the commotion, Anna asked, puzzled, “It’s not a holiday, and isn’t it illegal to set off fireworks in the city?” I watched the dazzling fireworks filling the sky, digging a large spoonful of cake into my mouth. “Mhm… maybe some rich young master is surprising his sweetheart.” Anna chuckled softly. “That sounds incredibly romantic.”

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1 Inside the equestrian center, the adopted younger brother, Ken, was clinging precariously, almost thrown from the horse, his life hanging by a thread. My birth parents rushed to me, their voices raw with panic. “Go save him! Only you can calm that horse!” I pulled back the thin blanket covering my legs, revealing the heavy cast beneath. “Save him with what?” I asked, my voice disturbingly calm. “With this leg, the one you personally broke?” … A thud. My birth parents, Ashton and Sarah, fell to their knees before me, perfectly synchronized. “Adrian! Please, son! I’m begging you!” Sarah’s voice was choked with tears. “Please save Ken, he’s barely holding on!” “Just save Ken, and your father will grant you anything you ask!” Ashton’s arrogant pride crumbled, his forehead pressed against the ground, his voice trembling. They would go to such lengths for an adopted son, someone who shared no blood with them. To kneel before their own flesh and blood… the irony was a bitter taste in my mouth. In the two years since they’d “found” me, had they ever truly treated me as their son? Ken and I shared the same birthday, but they found me coarse and feared I’d embarrass them, forbidding me from attending the party. I didn’t push it, only asking if they could come home early to share a birthday cake with me. They promised. Instead, they flew Ken to Paris, throwing him a lavish birthday bash beneath the Eiffel Tower. I, meanwhile, waited alone in the sprawling mansion until midnight. The noodles turned to mush, and I never even got a “Happy Birthday” from them. When they returned, seeing my hurt, Sarah even scolded me: “Why are you so insensitive? Can’t you be more considerate of your brother?” “Ken has always been delicate; isn’t it natural for us to dote on him more?” Yes, of course. Because I was their biological son, I was destined to be sacrificed, neglected, and merely a prop for Ken. “Adrian! You’re being absolutely ridiculous!” A sharp, angry female voice cut through the air. It was my fiancée, Cassy. She strode toward me, her gaze imperious, and pointed an accusing finger. “Your aunt and uncle are on their knees! How can you be so heartless? Aren’t you afraid of shortening your own life?” Her beautiful face was etched with disappointment and scorn, as if I’d committed some unforgivable sin. Sarah immediately seized the chance, weeping as she spoke: “Cassy, don’t blame Adrian, it’s all our fault, we wronged him, it’s understandable he’s angry…” Her words sounded like a defense, but in reality, they placed me on an impossible moral high ground. It was as if she were saying: See, we’ve knelt and admitted our wrongs, yet you still refuse to help; you’re simply unfilial and wicked. The surrounding relatives immediately began whispering and pointing. “What kind of child is he? So cold-blooded.” “Exactly, they’re his own parents, after all. There’s no grudge that can’t be forgotten.” “Ken is such a sweet boy, how could he be so cruel…” I watched the unfolding drama with detached eyes, my heart unmoving. “Ah! Help!” In the center of the arena, Ken’s screams grew more desperate, his body swaying precariously, as if he’d be thrown and trampled to death at any second. The sound struck Ashton and Sarah like a heavy hammer. They abandoned all pretense of dignity, frantically bowing their heads to me. “Adrian! Please, son, I beg you! Save Ken!” “I’m bowing to you! Have some mercy!” Cassy was thoroughly enraged by the sight. She stepped forward, gripping my shoulder, and snarled in a commanding tone: “Adrian! I told you to go save him! Did you hear me?” I slowly lifted my eyes, my icy gaze piercing her like a blade. “If you want to save him, go yourself. I won’t.” Cassy recoiled, startled by my stare, and instinctively released her grip. I turned my head, my gaze falling upon the two pathetic figures on the ground, a faint curve playing on my lips. “If you want me to save him, fine.” 2 In an instant, all eyes were fixed on me. Ashton and Sarah jolted their heads up, as if clutching a last straw of hope. “Tell us! Anything! We’ll agree to any condition if you save Ken!” Slowly, I articulated my terms: “First, all shares of the Gosling Corporation will be immediately transferred to my name.” “Second, Ken will be removed from the Gosling family registry.” “From this day forward, you will never acknowledge him again.” My words hung in the air, plunging the entire scene into an oppressive silence. Everyone stared at me as if I were a madman. They hadn’t expected such greed, such utter ruthlessness. The hope on Ashton and Sarah’s faces froze, replaced by shock and disbelief. “You… what did you say?” Sarah’s voice trembled. “Adrian! So, you are after the Gosling family fortune!” Cassy was the first to react, pointing a finger at my nose, her face contorted with scorn and fury. “I never realized until now that you were such a materialistic man!” She seemed to think she had caught me, her voice laced with menace. “Go save Ken right now, and I can pretend none of this happened.” “Otherwise, we’ll break off our engagement immediately!” She truly believed I still cared about that ridiculous engagement. I looked at her and suddenly chuckled. “Alright.” I answered crisply. “We’ll break off the engagement.” The triumphant smirk on Cassy’s face stiffened; she couldn’t believe her ears. “You… what did you say? Adrian, have you been wanting to break up with me for a long time?” My smile widened. “Congratulations, you got it right.” Her face instantly flushed, her body trembling with rage. “Ah—!” Ken, on the horse’s back, let out a final, desperate shriek, his body tilting precariously, on the verge of falling. “Ken!” Sarah cried out hysterically, nearly fainting. Ashton’s psychological defenses completely shattered. He gritted his teeth, forcing out words as if through a vice. “Fine! I agree! I’ll agree to anything!” I smiled, satisfied. From a nearby saddlebag, I produced the pre-prepared share transfer agreement and a declaration of disinheritance. “Words are worthless. Sign them now.” Everyone was shocked anew by my foresight. Seeing my preparations, Sarah pointed at me, too furious to speak. “Adrian! You… you’re utterly heartless!” “Sign it.” I waved the documents and pen in my hand, urging them. “Any later, and I can’t guarantee he’ll still be alive.” The two exchanged glances, seeing the struggle and pain in each other’s eyes. Ultimately, their affection for their adopted son won out. Their hands trembling, they took the documents and pen, and under everyone’s gaze, signed their names. Each stroke seemed to drain them of all their strength. I took the papers, carefully checking the signatures and fingerprints. Once confirmed, I tucked them away with a satisfied air. Three copies: one for me, one for them, and one notarized by a lawyer. Completely foolproof. “Alright, now can we go save him?” Cassy glared at me, seething, as if she wanted to devour me whole. Ashton and Sarah, too, had risen from the ground, their eyes fixed on me with hopeful anticipation. “Of course.” I smiled, placing my hands on the armrests, making a motion to stand. Everyone held their breath. And in that moment, I pulled back the thin blanket covering my legs, revealing the heavily bandaged cast in its entirety to everyone. Then, I offered them an apologetic, innocent smile. “My apologies.” “My leg is injured. I can’t save him.” 3 Time seemed to freeze. Everyone’s expressions were etched into masks of disbelief. “Adrian! You tricked us!” Cassy was the first to react, lunging forward and swiftly snatching the signed agreement from my hand. She glanced down at its contents, a twisted, triumphant smile spreading across her face. “Adrian, you are utterly despicable! For money, you’d abandon your own brother’s life!” She held the document aloft, shouting to everyone: “Look, everyone, this is the true face of the Gosling family’s biological son!” “He never intended to save anyone; he was just blackmailing his own parents!” With that, she crumpled the document savagely and stuffed it into her pocket. Then, she turned, displaying her agile figure, and rushed into the equestrian center without hesitation. “Ken, don’t be scared! I’m coming to save you!” Facing the frenzied horse, she remained fearless, even demonstrating remarkable horsemanship. To protect Ken, her arm was grazed by a hoof, leaving a bloody mark. She successfully reined in the horse, helping the thoroughly shaken Ken down from its back. A classic damsel-saves-distressed-man scenario, and the entire arena erupted in thunderous applause and admiration. “Miss Cassy is amazing!” “So brave! Now that’s a true heroine!” “Compared to a certain heartless man, it’s like night and day!” The applause and praise felt like stinging slaps across my face. Then came a real, solid slap. Ashton stood up, walked to me, and with all his might, delivered a blow to my cheek. It left me dizzy, a trickle of blood seeping from the corner of my mouth. “You ungrateful wretch! You viper!” He pointed a trembling finger at my nose, enraged. “How could the Gosling family produce something so utterly heartless!” Sarah rushed over, her eyes burning with venom. “Adrian, I truly regret taking you back! You don’t deserve to be my son!” They all swarmed around Ken and Cassy, fussing over the hero and the pretty boy. Cassy supported Ken, basking in the crowd’s adoration. Ken leaned into her arms, looking utterly pitiful, tears streaking his pale face, a picture of vulnerability. “Brother…” He looked at me, his voice as soft as a feather. “Brother, we’re family, how could you be so cruel, watching me on the brink of death and refusing to help…” He paused, then added, with deliberate implication, “This horse, I remember you always trained it, brother.” “It’s usually so gentle; why would it suddenly act like this today? Brother, were you trying to hurt me on purpose?” 4 His vague, manipulative words instantly ignited everyone’s fury. “My God! So, he was behind it all!” “How devious! He’s a modern-day villain!” “To steal the inheritance, he’d even harm his own brother!” I became the target of all their scorn. Seeing her objective achieved, Cassy dropped her pretense. She embraced Ken, her gaze triumphant, and announced loudly: “Everyone, I officially announce today that I am breaking off my engagement with Adrian!” “A man as venomous and materialistic as him is unworthy to be my husband, Cassy Stratt, and certainly unworthy to be a Gosling!” She turned to Ashton and Sarah, speaking with deep affection: “Ashton, Sarah, Ken and I are truly in love.” “Before, due to the engagement, we had to keep our feelings hidden. Now, I hope you can bless our union!” Ken bashfully lowered his head, his cheeks flushed, tacitly agreeing to everything. What a performance of undying love. Ashton and Sarah, after a brief moment of shock, immediately concurred. “Yes! Yes! Cassy, we bless you both!” Sarah, her voice brimming with emotion, took Cassy’s hand. “It’s Ken’s blessing to be with you!” Ashton looked at me with an expression of utter disappointment. “Adrian, you have disappointed us beyond measure! You conspired against us, you tried to harm your brother; you don’t deserve the Gosling name!” “From today on, I, Ashton Gosling, have no son named Adrian! Get out of this house!” They spoke in unison, eager to cast me out and make room for the loving couple. The surrounding guests also cheered them on. I watched the entire charade with cold detachment, waiting until their performance concluded before slowly smiling. “What’s the rush? The one who should be leaving the Gosling family isn’t me, it’s Ken!” My voice was soft, yet it instantly silenced the noisy scene. I let out a whistle, and the “mad” horse obediently walked towards me. Everyone gasped and recoiled several steps. Black Beauty affectionately nudged my palm with its head, emitting a contented rumble. I stroked its glossy black mane and spoke leisurely. “Doesn’t anyone find it strange?” “Why did this horse, which was supposedly ‘frenzied,’ immediately become so docile after Ken was rescued?” “And my dear brother, after being dragged around by a wild horse for so long, didn’t even get a scratch.” “Could it be… that you, too, brother, possess hidden talents and are a horse whisperer?” I fixed my gaze on Cassy’s rigid face. “Cassy, you clearly had the ability to subdue the horse immediately. Why did you wait until my parents signed the agreement before intervening?” “And why did you insist on forcing a man with a broken leg to rescue someone?” My string of rhetorical questions were like pebbles thrown into a calm lake, stirring ripples. The people present weren’t fools; their expressions began to shift to curiosity and suspicion. Ken and Cassy’s faces instantly turned ashen. “You, what nonsense are you spouting!” Cassy shouted, her voice laced with fear. “Nonsense?” I scoffed, pulling out my phone from my pocket. “This horse is my darling, my treasured companion since it was a foal. So, I specifically installed a 24-hour surveillance camera in its stable.” I pressed play, pointing the screen towards the crowd. A clear video appeared before everyone.

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As a polyglot fluent in eight languages, my decision to quit and become a tour guide delighted everyone at the translation agency—except Selena, the orphaned “genius” senior translator. She clung to my arm, pleading desperately. “Maria, even after you’ve ruined chances with international firms and damaged the agency’s name, I salvaged things and begged for you. This is your home—I won’t let you leave!” I shook her off coldly and walked next door to apply as a tour guide. In my past life, she was celebrated as a brilliant, self-taught translator who mastered eight languages and flawlessly translated specialized terms across fields. While I pored over idioms and polished exhibition scripts, she could recite them perfectly after one glance. During live interpretation, she’d speak the exact phrase I was still refining in my mind. Refusing to be outdone, I spent five days crafting a concise, elegant, and politically nuanced translation of a leader’s speech. But when I delivered it to the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, Selena had already submitted an identical draft—and secured the role of exclusive translator. She rose to fame as the “genius translator,” while I was branded a fraud riding on my father’s reputation. Before I could uncover the truth, I was killed by one of Selena’s fanatical followers. When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to the day Selena first rose to fame. 1 “Maria, the exhibition is about to start. Selena hasn’t prepared anything this time, so don’t accuse her of stealing your script again.” The sight of my colleague’s familiar face made my scalp prickle. I sprang up and retrieved my speech, which I had locked away in my cabinet. This was the day Selena, as the “genius” senior translator, first achieved fame, and it marked a critical turning point in my own declining reputation. Before this, Selena always managed to vocalize my speeches in advance, leaving me speechless and humiliated in front of everyone. Over time, I suspected she was secretly reading my scripts, so I always locked them away. Seeing the meticulously crafted speech, filled with specialized terminology I had painstakingly refined, I felt a sense of calm. Just then, Selena approached, her face wreathed in smiles. “This must be your speech for today, Maria. Can I glance at the beginning to admire it? After all, you’re so brilliant!” I forced a smile, clutching the script tightly, remembering the unsettling pattern from my previous life. Each time before I was due to speak, Selena would always take a quick look at the beginning of my script. Following this, the content she presented would inevitably be identical, leaving me unprepared and speechless before the crowd. “No, you can hear it live in a moment. I need to rush to host.” This time, I wouldn’t fall for her trick. I was convinced this had to be connected to her secretly viewing my script. As I stepped onto the stage, brimming with confidence, a voice beside me cut in—it was Selena! “Welcome, everyone, to the Pearl River Tech New Product Exhibition! It’s a pleasure to discuss our new products with you. We’ve also prepared an exciting Q&A and raffle session…” She slowly walked onto the stage, introducing me as an “early lucky audience member.” Then, she effortlessly engaged various international guests in different languages, even incorporating local dialects and slang, eliciting hearty laughter. My mind went blank. I had locked my script in a safe; no one but me should have seen it. Moreover, she hadn’t even seen my opening, yet she perfectly recounted my meticulously prepared flow and even the idiomatic conversations. I rushed off the stage, only to be confronted by colleagues who questioned me with undisguised disdain. “You copied Selena again! She told me about this outline ages ago. Good thing I heard your content yesterday and felt something was off, so I applied for her to be the host this morning!” “No, I conceptualized this half a month ago; she copied me!” They snatched my script, then looked at me with sarcastic eyes after reading the contents. “You always lock your scripts away, then you play the victim and accuse Selena. Is it because you’re jealous of an orphan who’s fluent in eight languages?” “I saw her outline too, and you didn’t change a single word. It’s absolutely shameful. You must be furious that Selena is being called a genius senior translator!” I offered proof of my conceptualization, only to be met with even more revulsion. Because the evidence I presented was identical to Selena’s outline, without a single alteration. A chill ran through me as I watched Selena, fluent and unscripted on stage, being hailed as a genius senior translator, the bitterness growing stronger. Selena finished hosting, showered with praise from veteran colleagues. Hearing that she had prepared it in such a short time only amplified their accolades, cementing her reputation as a rising star. It had happened the same way in my previous life. My face paled. Because this event was livestreamed, Selena gained a massive following, while I was deluged with endless mockery. “Selena’s colleague said she was just jealous and sabotaged things, even stealing her carefully crafted script. Luckily Selena was quick on her feet!” “I hate people who are incompetent and jealous at work. She should be fired from the agency, she doesn’t deserve to work with Selena!” A flood of insults crashed down on me. I was deeply unwilling to see my hard work become someone else’s triumph. Afterward, I diligently studied various languages, constantly practicing simultaneous interpretation, hoping to clear my name by participating in many livestreams. But each time, Selena would preemptively voice the translation I was about to say, leaving me awkwardly relegated to the background. Time and again, my livestream appearances were disastrous. I became the public benchmark for Selena, and in her fans’ eyes, a jealous shrew. Selena’s fanatical follower kidnapped me, forcing sulfuric acid down my throat. I was in agony, unable to scream, literally dismembered, my body left in a desolate area, staged as a suicide. Selena, feigning kindness, wrapped things up for her fan, claiming I had posted a suicide note before my death. Everyone blamed me for my restless demise. My father, utterly disappointed in me, then championed the remorseful, tearful Selena as the nation’s ace translator. Thankfully, now I’m back. I can uncover the truth and clear my name. 2 “An orphan, untaught, fluent in eight languages—that’s just too far-fetched. A script can be stolen, but live simultaneous interpretation for random international trade clients? That’s different!” My eyes brightened, and my frantic heart gradually calmed. Selena must have used some unknown means to steal my thoughts, I thought, gritting my teeth. The next day, Selena slowly approached me, a smile on her face. “Maria, today we’re translating for clients from different countries at random. You’ll have to guide me.” I raised my hand, using a notebook to block her approach, and a sudden realization struck me. This pen she gave me. Ever since then, my thoughts had nowhere to hide. Could she have tampered with it, and each time she looked at my opening, it was to verify if the content was real? I calmly put the pen down, and spoke coolly. “This time, I’ve decided not to highlight a single keyword. It’ll be a true test of simultaneous interpretation!” She froze for a moment, then resumed her smile, nodding in praise. My client soon arrived, speaking rapidly, interspersed with numerous specialized terms. I translated calmly. He praised my work, but before long, we encountered Selena and her client. “This is our booth, virtual reality is indispensable in today’s internet…” The client even used an idiom to compliment my intelligence. I smiled, about to translate, when I was interrupted. “This gentleman is asking his brilliant translator to introduce this booth. Virtual reality is indispensable in today’s internet…” Selena smiled, voicing every thought in my mind, even perfectly translating the specialized terms I had specifically learned. I stared, shocked. I hadn’t even used her pen to write down keywords, yet she still articulated my translation! I immediately composed myself, listening to the client opposite me rapidly explaining his ideas, only managing to grasp about eighty percent. I wanted to be faster than her. As soon as I had formed the sentence in my mind, she translated it identically. I was certain she was stealing my internal translations to achieve all of this. Because I had adopted my client’s speaking habits, and she immediately replicated them after just meeting him—that was clearly abnormal! Sure enough, my client was astonished. After that, as soon as I had refined a sentence, Selena would articulate my thoughts, word for word. It was too bizarre; my heart pounded, but I couldn’t stop it. The transaction was successfully completed, and even the observing colleagues live-streaming couldn’t help but applaud. “Selena, brilliant! Maria, you’re just a pretender! Intentionally trying to steal someone else’s commission!” “Without Selena, with how silent you were throughout, this deal would definitely have fallen through again!” I glared, just in time to see a barrage of insults in the comments. “How dare she zone out during such a big deal? Incompetent, yet she wants a commission—how shameless!” “Selena is truly a genius senior translator. This Maria is just riding her father’s coattails, workplace trash!” My question was filled with indignation and frustration. “No, what method did you use to even know my thoughts?” Selena, however, smiled, gently patted my shoulder, feigning distress. “Maria, I know you dislike me, but you took too long to think, and this concerns the agency’s reputation. If you want to scold me, go ahead…” “If you’re not convinced, let’s compare. Liam and I will randomly think of some dialogues, so you can’t accuse Selena of having pre-arranged communication to trick you!” I gritted my teeth and agreed, listening to the dialogues they presented as top interpreters in Portuguese and Korean. But as soon as I had finished conceptualizing, Selena preempted me, speaking it out loud and getting affirmation. I was incredulous. This was an impromptu setup, yet she still articulated exactly what I intended to say. My colleagues’ faces grew even more scornful, while Selena offered a faint smile, offering no explanation. “Ignore jealous, accusatory people! Selena, let’s go!” I stood alone, my heart heavy and confused, unable to fathom the reason why. It was too supernatural. Why was this happening? 3 From that day on, the agency increasingly favored Selena, while growing more neglectful and disdainful of me. My colleagues treated me as if I were invisible. My father even sought me out, his eyes filled with disappointment. “Stop doing embarrassing things that cause a public uproar online, saying I pulled strings for you!” “Dad, Selena is using despicable methods to steal my thoughts!” “I recommended you for this Ministry of Foreign Affairs submission. This is an absolutely fair competition; prepare well!” I locked myself at home, working for five days and nights straight, poring over dictionaries and idioms. I printed my draft half an hour before the deadline and delivered it to the Ministry of Foreign Affairs. I was convinced there would be no mistakes this time, but I didn’t notice the grim expressions of the Ministry staff. “We’re sorry, ma’am, we strongly oppose plagiarism. You’ve been disqualified.” My eyes widened, my body rigid. Immediately, my father slapped me hard, sending me sprawling to the ground. “If you can’t compete, you plagiarize! You’ve utterly disgraced me!” He held the leader’s speech I had just printed, his face livid, glaring at me. My eyes were red, and I kept shaking my head, snatching Selena’s other copy of the speech—it was identical to mine! Seeing Selena walk out, smiling, I couldn’t take it anymore. I rushed forward, shaking her, demanding angrily: “Tell me, what despicable methods did you use to steal my thoughts!” Selena’s fans at the door threw down their support signs, charging at me and pinning me to the ground, beating me. “How dare you accuse our Selena! She’s an exclusive translator, honest and upright! What are you?!” “Kill this thief! Can’t you see your own father is so mad he’s almost dead? He wishes he never had such a disgraceful, vile daughter!” I helplessly covered my head, watching my father comfort Selena, not even glancing at me. I gritted my teeth, stood up, forcefully pushed away the attacking fans, and, with blood on my face, stared intently at Selena. “There’s a key specialized term missing inside, and an extra error. Tell me what they are!” I had deliberately omitted a section, fearing a repeat of the tragedy. Selena couldn’t possibly know. My father, his face grim, turned back and slapped me hard, gripping my shoulder. “If you’ve lost your mind, go home. Stop causing trouble!” My face swollen, tears streaming, I realized my father knew the truth, yet he chose to shield Selena and frame me. Selena gently removed my father’s hand, looking at me with mockery and triumph as she slowly spoke. “The tonnage for the space station in aerospace technology was wrong; there’s only an extra error, no missing specialized term!” I fell to the ground weakly. She really knew everything, even avoiding my trap. The Ministry of Foreign Affairs staff carefully checked and confirmed her words. The agency director, arriving with a dark expression, glared at me. “Stop causing a scene. You’re ruining the agency’s reputation.” “Old O’Connor, your daughter has gone mad! Take her home immediately!” The fans continuously agreed, shouting for me to die. My father looked at me with an icy expression. I felt as though I’d been plunged into an ice cellar, unable to utter a single word in my defense. It wasn’t until I looked at the bracelet on my wrist that I suddenly understood. So, this was the truth! In the dead silence, a Ministry of Foreign Affairs staff member received a call, nodding respectfully again and again. “Selena, come with me! The Director of Translation Services specifically requested you to interpret at the China-Germany conference! If you perform well this time, your future will be limitless!” Hearing the latter half of the sentence, Selena’s eyes instantly lit up. But then she remembered a problem and asked hesitantly, “What if I mess it up?” “You can’t mess it up! This concerns the friendship between our two countries!” Selena’s face paled. She suddenly grabbed my sleeve, her grip tight: “Maria! If you sincerely apologize, I can talk to the Director and persuade him to let you stay on as my assistant!” I coldly shook off her hand, sneering: “I can’t be the assistant to a genius translator. Director, I’m resigning.” Selena, seeing me about to leave, grew frantic, almost blurting out the truth: “You can’t leave! If you leave, how can I translate for them?”

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Chapter 1 It took me three days and three nights, sifting through the putrid mess of a waste transfer station with my bare hands, to recover the billionaire’s treasured, limited-edition watch, worth millions. The billionaire, in a show of profound gratitude, immediately offered me a downtown apartment and a ten-million-dollar annual salary. But when my best friend, Summer, found out, she exploded. “Are you out of your mind? We might be poor, but we have our dignity.” “Accepting charity like that—how is that any different from a beggar?” In my past life, brainwashed by her insidious words, I not only rejected the billionaire but also swore never to accept any handouts. From then on, I turned down all internship opportunities from prestigious companies, ending up in odd jobs after graduation. Later, unable to pay rent, I begged her to take me in. Instead, she laughed and started a livestream. “Look, everyone, isn’t this my best friend, the one who rejected millions to uphold her dignity? Look how miserable her life is now.” The video went viral, turning me into a universally mocked, self-righteous clown. She climbed over my ruins, becoming an inspirational influencer championing modern female independence. On that rainy night, evicted by my landlord, I swallowed pills and ended my life. When I opened my eyes again, I was back at the moment I was about to return the watch. Chapter 2 Outside the waste transfer station, two men in dark suits blocked my path. “Ms. Lin, the watch… did you really find it?” I nodded, holding up the watch I’d just unearthed from the trash heap. Before I could speak, the billionaire in front of me, Mr. Fletcher, grew visibly emotional. “This was the last thing my mother left me before she passed. Ms. Lin, I truly thank you.” I handed him the watch, about to say, “You’re welcome.” Suddenly, my best friend, Summer, rushed forward and yanked me behind her. “Autumn! Are you insane?!” She glared at me. “Are you really going to give it to him? Have you no shame?” Those familiar words hit me like a lightning bolt. Only then did I realize I had been reborn. In my previous life, she had stopped me in the exact same way. But all I could think about was returning the item to its rightful owner. Besides, before I even started looking, I hadn’t expected any reward. I never truly bought into her “poor but righteous” nonsense, so I had returned the watch to Mr. Fletcher. I just hadn’t expected him to then offer me a downtown apartment and a ten-million-dollar annual salary. When Summer found out, she furiously accused me of selling my soul for money, shaming independent women of our era. Eventually, after her manipulative gaslighting, I rejected all the rewards. That very decision ultimately led to my death. Thinking of this, my anger flared. “Summer, what are you doing?” “I’m here to return what belongs to him.” Summer flinched, surprised by my defiance. She lifted her chin, her gaze fixed forward. “Return what belongs to him? Don’t make it sound so noble.” “We might be poor, but we don’t accept handouts!” She sighed, adopting a pained expression. “Autumn, I’m doing this for your own good.” “Don’t you know how much these rich people look down on us? If you’re so eager, they’ll just think you’re cheap.” Hearing this, Mr. Fletcher immediately grew agitated. “Young lady, Ms. Lin helped me recover my deceased mother’s keepsake. It’s only right for me to thank her. This is not charity.” Summer scoffed, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Thanks? Frankly, isn’t it just about money?” “Autumn, you’re really good at giving them an easy out.” “You sifted through trash for three days, all for this paltry sum? Have you no integrity?” As she spoke, she reached for me again. I coldly swatted her hand away. “I know whether I have integrity. I don’t need you to teach me.” “Mr. Fletcher, please keep the watch safe.” Mr. Fletcher understood my meaning and immediately signaled his secretary with his eyes. The secretary understood. “Ms. Lin, this is Mr. Fletcher’s token of gratitude: the deed to a downtown apartment and an offer for a ten-million-dollar annual salary with our group.” Mr. Fletcher looked at me. “Ms. Lin, please accept it. Otherwise, I won’t feel at ease.” Summer’s eyes burned red when she saw the offer. She lunged forward, swatting away my outstretched hand. “Bribery! This is blatant bribery!” She pointed an accusing finger at Mr. Fletcher. “Do you think you can buy our dignity with a house and a job?” She then pointed at me. “Autumn, you’re hopeless.” “If you accept this, aren’t you admitting you’re a commodity with a price tag?” “How are you any different from those who sell their bodies for money?” Her eyes suddenly reddened, and she cried to our housemates, who had been drawn by the commotion. “Look, everyone, I’m trying to help her, and she’s talking to me like this.” “For money, she’s even throwing away years of our friendship.” Housemate A advised me, “Autumn, Summer means well. For us girls, our reputation is most important.” Housemate B echoed, “That’s right, acknowledging the gesture is enough. If you really accept it, how will others look at you?” I looked at them, a cold laugh escaping me. “If you feel it compromises your dignity, you’re welcome to never touch it.” Watching their synchronized performance, I found it absurd. I bent down and, under their stunned gazes, picked up the deed and the offer from the floor. “If you find it disgraceful, you can avoid it your entire life.” “Mr. Fletcher, thank you for your generosity. I’ll accept it.” Mr. Fletcher breathed a sigh of relief. “Glad to hear it. Glad to hear it.” Summer trembled with rage. “Fine, Autumn, you’re so righteous! You’re so clever! Don’t you dare regret this later!” Seeing I ignored her, she placed her hands on her hips and looked at Mr. Fletcher with disdain. “Her lack of integrity is her problem. I, Summer Davies, am different! What I despise most in this life are rich people like you, who think they can buy people with money!” With that, she turned and ran off. I paid her no mind, taking the offer, ready to go check out the apartment. But just as I reached the apartment building, Mr. Fletcher’s secretary called. “I’m very sorry, Ms. Lin, your move-in procedures might have to be temporarily postponed.” Chapter 3 My heart sank. “What happened?” The secretary’s voice was apologetic. “We received a report from building management saying your… identity is questionable, suspected of fraud. So your access card has been frozen.” Fraud? I immediately understood. This had to be Summer’s doing. I hung up the phone and turned to walk towards the management office. Sure enough, through the glass door, I saw her earnestly speaking to the property manager. Summer saw me and immediately feigned surprise. “Autumn, why are you here?” “I’m clarifying things with the manager. It must be a misunderstanding. Don’t worry.” The property manager sized me up, then said sternly: “Miss, Ms. Davies kindly informed us that the origin of your apartment is unclear.” “For the safety of other residents, we must verify this.” Summer seized the opportunity to grab my hand. “Autumn, let’s go. Don’t embarrass yourself here. Look, everyone’s staring at you.” I shook off her hand, staring at her hypocritical face. “Summer, what exactly do you want?” She immediately stepped back. “I don’t want anything. I just did what any good citizen should.” “I can’t just stand by and watch you get scammed and bring shame to our school.” Her voice was neither too loud nor too soft, just enough for everyone in the office to hear. “Think about it, who would just give a student a downtown apartment for no reason? There must be something fishy going on.” I couldn’t be bothered with her nonsense, so I directly called Mr. Fletcher. “Hello, Mr. Fletcher, this apartment you gave me… it’s not fake, is it?” “Now someone is accusing me of fraud, and the building management has frozen my access card.” “Of course not, Ms. Lin. Please don’t worry, I’ll be right there.” Summer’s face instantly paled, and she reached out to snatch my phone. But I simply shifted slightly and evaded her. Seeing she couldn’t grab it, she instead shouted at the property manager: “Did you hear that? They’re contacting him directly! If their relationship was clean, who would believe it?” The property manager’s gaze grew even more hesitant. I looked at her almost frantic demeanor, a cold laugh escaping me. “You’re trying so hard to prove there’s something wrong with me. Is it because you also desperately want this ‘problematic’ gift?” “You’re talking nonsense!” Summer’s voice immediately rose. “I’ve always viewed money as dirt; how could I want something so tainted?” “Look at yourself now. How are you any different from a kept woman?” “You’ve completely shamed all independent women of our new era!” She grew more animated, suddenly grabbing a wad of cash from her bag and throwing it at me. “You like money, don’t you? Is this enough? Stop debasing yourself!” Hearing those familiar words, my blood ran cold. In my previous life, I believed her lies, not only refusing my parents’ living allowance but also working three grueling jobs every day. Yet all my hard-earned money was taken by her under the pretense of “safekeeping, so you don’t spend it foolishly.” When I was finally destitute, unable to even pay rent, she actually told me it was a test. Truly strong women rise from hardship! Recalling my past foolishness, I now felt only disgust. Just as I was about to retort, a call from the school counselor came in. His tone was unpleasant. “Autumn Lin, where are you?” “How dare you fake your eligibility for financial aid!” “Get to my office immediately!” Chapter 4 Hearing that, my mind went blank. Financial aid was my entire hope for next semester; without it, I couldn’t even pay tuition. Summer saw me frozen in place and smiled triumphantly. “What, dumbfounded? What did I tell you? Karma’s here.” I had no time for her taunts and turned to rush back to school. All the way, she kept nagging in my ear: “Autumn, see, I told you there’s no such thing as a free lunch. Now look, the whole school knows.” In the counselor’s office, as soon as he saw me, he slapped a complaint letter on the table. “Autumn Lin, a student has formally reported that you live a lavish lifestyle, receiving large sums of money from various people by selling your body.” “How dare you still apply for poverty student aid?” Selling my body? I hadn’t even processed it when Summer immediately interjected, “Professor, I wrote that letter.” “I couldn’t just stand by and watch her go astray.” “Financial aid is so precious; it should go to truly principled students.” She then turned to me. “Autumn, I’m helping you too.” “Cutting off this dirty money is the only way you’ll find yourself again.” My fingertips trembled with rage. “Summer, you steal my hope and then claim it’s for my own good?” The counselor frowned, tapping the table hard twice. “Autumn Lin! Summer means well, what’s with your attitude?” “Tell me yourself, what’s going on with the downtown apartment and that ten-million-dollar annual job offer?” I took a deep breath, suppressing my inner fury, and fully explained everything about Mr. Fletcher. But the counselor clearly didn’t believe me. “Even if what you say is true, for a student to accept such valuable things—is that appropriate?” “Besides, this incident has already created a very negative impression among students.” Summer continued to fan the flames. “Exactly! Now the whole class knows, saying she’d do anything for money. Our dorm’s reputation is almost ruined because of her.” “I’ve always said that rich people’s things are toxic. You insisted on taking them. Now you regret it, but it’s too late.” It was happening again! In my previous life, she used the same tactics to control me, making me reject all prestigious internships, which led to me only finding odd jobs after graduation. Thinking of this, I stared coldly at her. “Summer, do you dare to confront me face-to-face? Let’s invite Mr. Fletcher here and clear everything up.” Summer’s eyes flickered, but she quickly straightened her back. “Confrontation it is. I’m upright, so I’m not afraid of shadows, unlike some people who have something to hide.” The counselor immediately waved his hand. “Nonsense! Bringing outsiders to school—what kind of decorum is that?!” I didn’t back down. “Professor, this concerns my reputation and my studies. I must clarify it.” Summer suddenly shouted, “Fine! You want to make a big deal out of it? Then let’s verify everything.” “Let’s see if your apartment and offer are real or fake. Don’t get fooled by fakes and treat them like treasure.” Her words were exactly what I wanted. “Good, it’s settled then.” “If the apartment and offer are all real, you will apologize to me in front of all the school’s teachers and students, and admit that you falsely accused me!” Chapter 5 “Alright, but if the apartment and offer are both fake, and you made it all up, then you’ll withdraw from school yourself and stop embarrassing the institution.” The counselor initially tried to stop us, but seeing our firm stances, he eventually agreed. He called in a few student representatives as witnesses and laid down the ground rules. “You’re the ones making a scene. Whatever happens, you deal with it. It has nothing to do with the school.” I didn’t waste any more time, dialing Mr. Fletcher’s number directly. “Mr. Fletcher, I apologize for disturbing you, but there’s a bit of trouble at school… I need your help to clarify something.” I briefly explained the situation. The phone went silent for a few seconds, then his deep voice came through: “I’ll be there right away.” Less than an hour later, Mr. Fletcher appeared with his secretary and lawyer. We arrived at the apartment building in a grand procession. Summer tidied her clothes and spoke to Mr. Fletcher, neither humble nor arrogant. “Mr. Fletcher, we just want to confirm if you would truly give such valuable things to a student with whom you have no significant relationship.” But Mr. Fletcher didn’t even look at her; he simply nodded towards his assistant. The assistant immediately produced copies of the deed and the offer, beginning to display them to everyone. “All documents have been notarized and are legally binding.” The counselor and student representatives gathered to examine them, their expressions slowly shifting from doubt to shock. “This… this is real?” A student representative’s voice trembled. Summer’s face was a little pale, but she still stood her ground. “Who knows if the documents are real or fake? If you’re so capable, then swipe the access card!” She pointed at the apartment door, her eyes fixed on me. I held the key, and under everyone’s gaze, walked towards the access panel. Honestly, I was a bit nervous, especially since it had been frozen before. If something went wrong now, I’d truly be unable to clear my name. I took a deep breath and placed the key card against the sensor. Beep— The green light flashed, and the door opened. I breathed a sigh of relief, about to turn and demand Summer’s apology. Suddenly, Summer burst into laughter. “Hahahaha, Autumn! Did you see that? The door opened. Everything is real.” She turned to the counselor and students. “Professor, students, you all saw it. I lost. Autumn wasn’t scammed. She really did climb a social ladder.” “She really would do anything for money.” Her words stunned everyone present. Summer took a few steps towards me and bowed deeply. “Autumn, I apologize.” “My mistake was underestimating your methods. My mistake was thinking you still had dignity.” “You weren’t tricked; you did this willingly.” I was bewildered by her barrage of accusations, completely unsure what she was trying to do. She had clearly lost, yet she acted as if she were the victor. Just as the surrounding students began to look at Summer with strange expressions, Mr. Fletcher frowned. But before he could take the employment contract from his assistant. Summer snatched the contract and handed it to me. My gaze followed her hand to the tiny print at the bottom of the contract. I collapsed to the ground, unable to utter a single word.

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1 My brother and I each had a twin wife. Our father had meticulously raised them to be ideal helpmates. The younger sister, Jasmine, was vivacious and charming, falling for my brother, James, at first sight. That left her elder sister, Lily, who was born with a disability, to me. I understood clearly that choosing Lily meant bowing out of the competition for our family’s inheritance. After all, a scion of a powerful family couldn’t possibly have a disabled wife. Yet, pity for her plight swayed me, and I agreed. My father, furious at my lack of ambition, banished me to a deserted island. I protected Lily there, and we endured three months. When we returned, she was completely unblemished, while I had three broken ribs and walked with a permanent limp. I considered her my wife and never held it against her. But then came the warehouse explosion. In that moment, Lily darted out of her wheelchair, practically flying. She said, “I’m sorry, James needs me.” James was my older brother. I tripped over a chair and fell, but she didn’t look back. “I’m sorry, but he’s the one I love.” Later, she saved her beloved. And I died in that inferno. When I opened my eyes again, I was back to the day we chose our wives. … I stared at the familiar scene, frozen and silent. Then, my brother, James, suddenly spoke. “Let Lily come with me. My younger brother has a severe stutter; he should choose someone more articulate to be by his side.” He extended his hand to Lily. But Jasmine, the younger sister, had already fallen head over heels for him, her delicate face tear-filled as she gazed at my brother. James had uttered the exact same words he had in my previous life. Last time, I believed he genuinely cared for my well-being. I also understood that Father had trained these sisters to help us manage the family business. Lily could only stand with crutches. How could the wife of a Thorne family heir be disabled? Seeing my brother willing to forgo his position for me, I was deeply touched and quickly refused, adamantly unwilling to let Jasmine go with me. But then came the explosion, and both women rushed towards James. James, in his feigned concern, insisted he wouldn’t leave without me. Yet he obediently allowed them to lead him safely away from the warehouse. Jasmine had already brought him to the entrance, but he feigned unconsciousness, prompting Lily to abandon all caution, stand from her wheelchair, and save him. From then on, he not only solidified his position as the heir… but also had two stunning women by his side. This time, I didn’t refuse his offer to swap wives. “Lis… listen to my… brother,” I stammered, mimicking my past speech impediment, my face earnest. James instinctively recoiled his outstretched hand, a hint of awkwardness on his face. Lily, too, looked at me in surprise. Just then, Mother descended from the second floor. “Sawyer, dear, the older sister is better at looking after people. Jasmine’s lively personality isn’t suited for you.” I looked at Lily, leaning on her crutches. Better at looking after people? Mother truly found any excuse to support my elder brother. “Besides, your elder brother is going to study abroad soon, and Jasmine’s grades are better; she can accompany him…” Lily, who had been standing quietly in the corner, suddenly took two steps forward. “Madam, I already received my acceptance letter last month.” With that, she actually produced the acceptance letter from my brother’s university. Lily spoke sincerely. “Madam, please don’t worry about my leg. I’ve already contacted a doctor, and I can have electronic neurons implanted in my calf. With consistent stimulation, I can walk normally.” Seeing Lily’s calm demeanor, I instantly understood. She had been reborn too. Since she had a second chance at life, it was only natural for her to fight for herself. I gave a self-deprecating smile. I laughed at my past self, who, to protect her pride, had shunned all formal gatherings. During those three months on the deserted island, I had repeatedly put myself in harm’s way for her. I had led wolf packs away from her. When she fell into a ravine, I had painstakingly carried her back up, step by arduous step. The slippery, sharp rocks had carved countless wounds into my body, yet she remained safe and sound on my back. And now, she was once again firmly choosing James. Mother’s face showed a flicker of admiration. “Are you truly willing to undergo electronic neuron implantation just to stand by James’s side? That’s more painful than walking on razor blades.” “I am willing.” James’s gaze toward Lily also held a fervent heat. While Jasmine was undeniably captivating, what could be more alluring than an excellent wife willing to sacrifice so much for him? “In that case, Jasmine will follow Sawyer from now on.” The moment the words left her mouth, tears instantly streamed from Jasmine’s eyes. “Madam, Jasmine isn’t worthy of the second young master.” Mother’s face turned cold. How could she not see what Jasmine was plotting? She remained silent, seemingly pondering something. Jasmine suddenly knelt before Mother. “Madam, Jasmine is willing to stay in the old estate as a housekeeper.” Mother finally lowered her gaze to her. “You’d rather be a housekeeper than the second young madam?” “Yes.” These sisters, both of them were quite decisive. James spoke, seemingly unintentionally. “Jasmine, are you perhaps looking down on my brother’s stutter?” Jasmine quickly glanced at him, her tone tinged with girlish indignation. “First young master, don’t you know why I’m doing this?!” As she spoke, her tears flowed even more profusely. James showed a pained expression. “But being a housekeeper would be too much of a sacrifice for you. How can that be?” I watched the absurd scene in silence. “If you… truly… care for… Jasmine, why not… let her… be your… assistant?” I stammered out the sentence. James patiently listened to me finish, his gaze at Jasmine holding a hint of greed. Both women, in terms of looks, figure, and intellect, were exceptional. “This… wouldn’t be appropriate.” Mother turned to look at me. “You should know they were both raised to assist you. Are you truly choosing neither?” Mother was testing me. I gave a light laugh. “Neither.” Mother raised an eyebrow. “Don’t be impulsive. I fear you’ll regret it.” “No regrets.” This time my answer was too quick, and everyone in the room looked at me simultaneously. Especially Lily. From the moment I spoke, her gaze hadn’t left me. Her brows were tightly furrowed, as if she was trying to understand why I had changed so much. Mother spoke again. “Then will you have a suitable translator by your side when you go abroad?” I slowly shook my head. “Not going abroad. Going to the company.” Last time, I believed my parents’ affection, and that my brother and I would always be close. I thought the inheritance rightfully belonged to my brother. So, I immersed myself in my own little world, making Lily the center of my life. Even when Grandfather urged me repeatedly to join the company, I refused. Eventually, I made Grandfather fall ill with frustration. This time, I wouldn’t make that mistake. Grandfather, though old, was still the de facto controller of the group. My parents had no business acumen, which was why they had invested heavily in training the twin sisters. They feared we would inherit their own lack of business sense. In my previous life, after Grandfather’s death, James took control of the Thorne family. Eventually, even my living expenses and Lily’s required James’s signature before his secretary would transfer them to me. Though equally a Thorne, I was treated like a beggar. This time, I would reclaim everything that was mine. When I approached Grandfather and explained my intentions, he patted my shoulder, visibly excited. “You rascal, I always had high hopes for you since you were a boy. Who knew such things would happen later…” “Never mind, let’s not talk about it. From now on, work hard with your grandfather.” “Yes.” Grandfather suggested I start as a manager, but I refused. I chose an entry-level position, starting from the ground up. James was preparing for his trip abroad, and the house was filled with joy. Meanwhile, I secured my first project, advancing from a regular employee to a team leader. Grandfather was overjoyed, praising me to everyone he met. One day, as I was leaving work, James blocked my path at the entrance. “Little brother, you’ve been on a roll lately, haven’t you?” “Now everyone’s saying you can inherit the family business on your own merits. You didn’t want the twin sisters because you’d already planned to cozy up to Grandfather, hadn’t you? When did you become so cunning?” “Tell me, as a Thorne child, who do you think Grandfather would prefer: you, a stuttering college graduate, or me, who’s returned from advanced studies abroad?” I never expected James to use my stutter to provoke me. I lowered my gaze, not wanting to talk to him. Unexpectedly, he shifted, blocking my way. “Little brother, since your stutter is so severe, you should just stay home and recover properly. Why go out and embarrass the Thorne family?” I met his gaze directly. “Why do I stutter, brother? Have you forgotten?” He flinched, looking at me in shock. When I was little, Grandfather often kept me by his side, saying I was the Thorne family’s future hope. Back then, my parents were very kind to me. But one day, James tricked me into a small wooden cabin in the backyard garden. He said he was going to the restroom and told me to wait for him. Instead, he locked me inside. I was trapped from that afternoon until the evening of the next day. Police dogs finally found me. When the door opened, Father’s expression showed a hint of disgust. After that night, I was so terrified I lost control of my bladder and bowels, cried all night, and couldn’t utter a sound. For several years afterward, I couldn’t speak a single word. James, however, claimed I had wandered off playing. Later, Grandfather found many doctors for me, allowing me to speak again, but leaving me with a stutter. James clearly remembered his past actions. His face instantly paled, and he stammered. “Wasn’t that because you were playing around and got lost? All these years, you still blame me for not finding you sooner, right?” “But I was just a child then too; I was scared. You can’t blame everything on me.” Seeing his pale face, Lily’s brows furrowed in concern. “Second Young Master, whatever happened when you were children is in the past. One shouldn’t harbor resentment.” At this point, James suddenly grasped her hand. “It’s alright. I’m the older brother; it’s my place to concede to my younger brother.” “If you’re fighting for the inheritance because of what happened back then, I’ll just give it to you.” Just then, Father returned. “What nonsense are you talking about?!” “What are you two discussing?” James, afraid I would reveal what happened back then, quickly said. “Little brother is still blaming me for what happened back then, Dad. I don’t want our family to be divided, so why not let little brother—” Father interrupted James. “Sawyer, are you still blaming your brother, even resorting to underhanded tactics to fight for power behind his back?” I was so furious I couldn’t even keep up the stutter. “It was clearly—” “Actually, it was the Second Young Master who started the trouble. He’s always held a grudge about what happened back then.” I looked at Lily. After two lifetimes of knowing her, she should have understood me best. But I never expected her to lie to Father to protect James. Smack! I slapped Lily across the face, my palm stinging red. Lily stared at me in shock. “That’s your sister-in-law! You’re completely out of control now!” “Take the young master back to his room to reflect. He’ll be let out when he understands.” I trembled, looking at Father. Ever since that incident in my childhood, I couldn’t be confined alone in a room. It would trigger my panic. But the servant grabbed my shoulder, dragging me upstairs. As I passed James, I clearly saw a mocking smile on his face. Lily, meanwhile, avoided my gaze. That night, James brought Lily to my room. As soon as he entered, he turned off all the lights. My body reacted to the fear before my mind did. That night in my childhood had deeply affected me. My voice trembled uncontrollably. “Turn on the lights.” “Heh, is the big strong man afraid of the dark?” “You were quite bold downstairs just now, weren’t you?” I instinctively reached for the bedside lamp. Lily was quicker, sweeping the lamp to the floor. She kicked it under the bed, then took my phone, which was providing some light, and drew the curtains. The suffocating feeling instantly enveloped me. I tried hard to speak, but no sound escaped. I knew, I was having an episode again. I fumbled in the dark for the bedside table, searching for my medication. But the next second, James snatched the pill bottle away. “Want your pills, do you? Big brother will feed you.” With that, he emptied the pills onto the floor. I stumbled onto the floor, instinctively fumbling for them. But James stepped on my hand. “You can have your medicine, but first, give me the project you just secured.” I struggled to breathe, unable to speak, so I just patted his foot that was pressing on me. He shone his flashlight on my face. “You agree?” I nodded. Throughout this, Lily watched me with furrowed brows. Finally, when I agreed, she said, “You shouldn’t compete with him. These things rightfully belong to him.” I didn’t say a word. This project was one I had seen through from beginning to end. I also wanted to see if James could handle this unexpected windfall. James took over my project, and I moved out of the Thorne family mansion into my own small apartment. I began actively seeing a therapist. Such things would never happen a second time. Sure enough, a month later, the project imploded. The manager, furious that James had ruined his life’s work, took James hostage. He livestreamed on the dark web, threatening a murder-suicide. I scoffed. James had brought this upon himself. But I hadn’t expected Lily to be waiting at my apartment door. “That project was negotiated by you; you’re the principal in charge.” “Only you can save him.” She bluntly stated her purpose, and bodyguards hidden in the shadows swarmed me. I was bound and pushed into a car. My mind raced. Lily, beside me, said leisurely. “You’re back too, aren’t you?” I stared at her, my eyes icy cold. “After this is over, you go abroad. I can guarantee you a life of wealth.” I scoffed. “And what about what you owe me?” “If you can save James today, I’ll be at your disposal from now on.” Soon, we arrived at the warehouse. Finally, both sides reached an agreement: the company would cover all losses, reinstate the manager, and the project would continue. When the manager demanded a hostage, Lily pushed me out without hesitation. “I swear, this is the last time. I’ll settle everything and come back for you.” I sneered inwardly. I no longer believed her. Yet, her resolute betrayal still stung. “Lily, does anything I go through mean nothing to you?” She avoided my gaze. “I’m your sister-in-law.” I couldn’t help but laugh aloud. She took two steps away, then turned to look at me. “I will definitely come back. If anything happens to you, I’ll just pay with my life.” I didn’t look at her. The manager locked me in a sealed room. There were no windows; the only light source was the phone livestreaming. He dragged my nearly broken self in front of the camera. “It’s been a day already! Why hasn’t the company made any moves?!” “Do you think anyone is watching the livestream? If I torture you a bit, will they speed things up?” With that, he faced the camera and began pulling out my fingernails. In the dimly lit room, blood slowly seeped out. My screams, once high, dwindled to nothing. I was in too much pain to make a sound. A familiar ID suddenly popped up a line of text in the comments. [Hands $10,000, legs $30,000, other body parts negotiable.] [You just want money. No one will ransom him. You might as well trade him for some cash.] I fell into despair. In less than three days, I was tortured beyond recognition. On the third day, while the manager was out buying more tools to torment me, I tried to call the police on the livestream phone, only to find there was no SIM card. I had no choice but to return to the livestream. I pleaded with the screen again and again. “Lily, I know you’re watching. Save me.” “Please… for all the times I saved you, save me just once.” “You said you would definitely come back.” “Lily…” My voice grew hoarse. Finally, I saw Lily’s reply in the public chat. [He won’t take your life now. James will be inaugurated as CEO tomorrow. Just get through tomorrow, and I’ll come get you.] Inaugurated tomorrow… “Grandfather? Lily, what have you done to Grandfather?” [Grandfather is old.] After that, no matter how much I called her, she didn’t say another word. Just then, the manager returned. He kicked me in the head. “Damn it, trying to outsmart me.” A rain of blows landed on my body. The comments section cheered, but Lily remained silent. The next second, the manager ended the livestream. I lay on the ground, recalling Lily’s attitude. All my emotions transformed into pure hatred. The manager quickly helped me up. “Are you alright, sir?” The lights in the room were off; everything was pre-arranged for the right angles. Naturally, I was fine. I shook my head. I opened the door, looking at the warehouse. I wondered if Lily recognized it—the very warehouse where I had died in my previous life. It was also the stage I had chosen for this grand play. “Proceed as planned.” “After this, go to Europe. Don’t come back.” I pushed open the warehouse door. Behind me, with a thunderous roar, flames shot into the sky. From then on, the Thorne family’s second young master died in a fire. All debts, I would collect them, step by step.

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It had been three years since I started running a flower shop to support him, and he’d gone bankrupt again. The first time, I’d sold the house my grandmother left me, paying off seven hundred thousand. The second time, I’d dug out the savings account my mother had set aside as a nest egg for my future, settling a debt of one point six million. Now, with his third bankruptcy looming, I stared at his vacant, dry eyes, my fingers hovering over the number of my estranged, billionaire father. I hesitated, wondering if I should call. But that very evening, I stumbled upon a chat group on his tablet: “Mr. Davies, how much should we put down for the bankruptcy settlement this time?” “Make it ten million. Otherwise, the little flower seller will just pay it off in one go. Where’s the fun in that?” “You really know how to play, Mr. Davies. I hear the little flower seller nurtures flowers by day and nurtures you by night. Never gets old, does it?” I set the tablet down, picked up my phone, and dialed my billionaire father. “All you want is for me to inherit the family business and marry your protégé, right? Fine. I’ll do it.” “Send someone to pick me up in three days.” 01 Hanging up with my father, Louis Davies walked back in, a signed IOU in his hand. “Cathy, I’m so sorry. I owe another ten million this time. I’m useless.” His acting was flawless; the lost look in his eyes used to always elicit the same response from me: “It’s okay, we’ll work through this together. We’ll pay it off eventually.” But now, I just stared silently at the half-exposed watch on his wrist. It looked unassuming, but I’d seen it in a magazine. It was worth one hundred and sixty million. Louis Davies, with a watch worth one hundred and sixty million, couldn’t pay off a ten-million-dollar debt. And I, with nothing to my name, was considering taking out a loan for him. My sincerity had become the very fuel for his casual manipulation. Noticing my gaze on his watch, Louis, without a flicker of expression, pulled me into a hug. “It’s just a fake, Cathy. When I’m rich, I’ll buy you anything you want.” Knowing I was poor and didn’t recognize luxury brands, he didn’t even need to put much thought into his lies. I averted my eyes, only to see another message pop up on the tablet beside me. “Mr. Davies, what’s the little lady going to sell to pay off the debt this time? Flowers? Her house? Or… herself?” “The women Mr. Davies has played with must be quite something. If she’s selling herself, I’ll take her for a night!” The subsequent messages were a barrage of vulgarity and “+1s.” I’d been with Louis for three years, and I’d paid off his bankruptcy debts twice. The first time, I sold my grandmother’s house. Louis held me, promising to build a home with me. Yet, we lived in a cramped, four-hundred-dollar-a-month basement apartment for two years before he returned with another two-million-dollar IOU. I still didn’t blame him. Instead, I used the nest egg my mother had saved for me, patching up his financial hole. He knelt before me, saying that by accepting my pre-wedding gift, he was my husband, and he would love and cherish me forever. But his promises were lies, from beginning to end. Louis’s attention was also drawn by the incessant pings from his phone. He glanced at me, and seeing that I wasn’t watching him, he confidently opened his phone to scroll through the group chat. Soon, his brows furrowed, and his lips thinned into a line. He tapped a few times on the screen, and his message appeared on the tablet: “All of you, get lost! Just wait and watch the show!” Louis put his phone down. After a long silence, he wrapped his arms around me again, his voice thick with affection. “Cathy, I promise this is the last time. Once this debt is paid, I’ll marry you, okay?” I looked at the earnest expression on his face and suddenly found it incredibly laughable. How precious must I be, to have a wealthy young master go to such lengths to deceive me? Even going as far as to utter words like “marry you.” If at first, I’d wanted to lay everything bare and ask him if he found any of this amusing, Now, I didn’t even have the energy to question him. I calmly pushed him away. “But Louis, I’m out of money.” Louis froze, perhaps not expecting such a reaction from me. After all, in his mind, I should be desperate to find any means to pay off his debts. But quickly, his face twisted into anger. “Cathy, are you just like the others? Do you think I’m a failure? That I’ll never succeed?” “I knew it, I misjudged you!” With that, he stormed out, slamming the door behind him. I watched his retreating back, understanding that he was using this tactic to pressure me into submission. But I didn’t call out to him. Instead, I pulled out my phone and blocked all his contacts. Then I picked up the IOU. No borrower, no debtor’s fingerprint. It was an obvious fake, yet I’d foolishly fallen for it twice. I gave a self-deprecating laugh and dialed the agent. “Hello, please help me sublease the flower shop on Central Street!” The flower shop was opened to support Louis. Now that I was done with him, there was no need to keep it running. Anyway, I was leaving. 02 The next morning, I stayed home to pack. Looking around the small, dim rental, there was surprisingly little worth taking with me. Birthday cards tossed from a bakery, pretty stones picked up from the street, rings fashioned from crumpled paper… Louis had presented these as surprises. But each time I opened a ‘blind box,’ he looked just as surprised. Now, I realized these ‘gifts’ were probably just random items someone else had arranged for him, and he likely didn’t even know what was inside. The only somewhat decent gift was a necklace he’d bought for eighty dollars from a street vendor after his first successful venture. At the time, I thought he was wasting money and got quite upset with him. But Louis had just laughed, an amused look on his face. He said I was silly, wondering what would happen if he ever truly became wealthy and I still couldn’t bring myself to spend money. I thought he was being considerate then. Now, it seemed he truly thought I was an idiot. In our dense chat history, Louis had called me ‘silly’ a staggering 517 times. When I ran through three streets to buy him his favorite late-night snack, he’d say, “How can Cathy be so silly?” When he had a fever, and I draped my only raincoat over him, carrying him to the hospital on my back, he’d say, “She’s ridiculously silly.” Even when I lay in his arms, dreaming of a brighter future with him, he would still type in the group chat: “Cathy is hopelessly silly, so broke yet still fantasizing about a future with me…” Even in cold text, I could imagine the disdain and mockery in his tone as he wrote that. But it didn’t matter anymore. From now on, Louis Davies would have no place in Cathy Lord’s future. I continued packing, but in the end, my large suitcase remained empty. The trash can, however, was full. I surveyed the home I’d lived in for two years once more. The walls stained with watermarks, a chair with a broken leg, a bed made of bricks and planks… When things were a little better, I’d wanted to decorate this place properly. But Louis always refused. He said we wouldn’t live here once we had money, so decorating was pointless. I’d believed every one of his promises, then stayed in this dilapidated house, foolishly waiting for those promises to materialize. Thinking of all this, I suddenly felt a profound sense of futility. I closed my suitcase just as the agent called. “Miss Lord, I can’t finalize the flower shop sublease myself. You’ll need to speak with the landlord personally.” 03 At three in the afternoon, I arrived punctually at the appointed office building to meet the agent. Down the opulent hallway, through a slightly ajar door, I caught sight of Louis. He was dressed in a well-tailored suit, head bowed, fiddling with his phone. Beside him, a woman, elegantly dressed, leaned intimately against his shoulder. The moment I saw her, I recognized her. Two days ago, the flower shop received an order for nine hundred and ninety-nine roses. Because the customer specifically requested the thorns not be removed, I’d painstakingly wrapped every single one, my hands bleeding. When I personally took a cab to deliver them, the recipient was this woman: Tiffany Chase. At the heart of the bouquet was a small card, as requested by the customer: “To my lifelong love, Tiffany. From: L.D.” It was only then that I realized L.D. stood for Louis Davies. He knew perfectly well that I, desperate for money, wouldn’t turn down such a large order. So he deliberately made those demands, watching me scramble like a fool. The thought of it brought tears to my eyes, almost making me laugh. After returning home that day, I had even excitedly shared with Louis how much money I’d made. As he tenderly bandaged my wounds, was he, in his heart, calling me silly again? Viewing me as a joke? As I wiped away the tears, the agent arrived. Seeing me standing at the door, he asked, puzzled, “Miss Lord, the landlord is inside. Why don’t you go in?” My eyes, still tearful, widened in shock as I looked at the agent. “Who did you say? The landlord? Louis Davies?” The agent looked bewildered. “Yes, didn’t you know? The entire block on Central Street belongs to Mr. Davies.” 04 I gazed at Louis’s figure in the distance, and deeply buried painful memories surged. After helping Louis pay off his second debt, I went through a long period of financial hardship, unable even to afford rent. Four or five burly men crowded the flower shop entrance, demanding payment. They smashed all the flowers in the shop, Even stepping on my cat, letting it cry out in pain without easing their foot. The little cat had been with me for twelve years; to me, it wasn’t just a pet, but family, as important as Louis. I pleaded, in tears, on my knees, begging them to spare it. In the three years I’d run the shop, I’d faced countless demands for rent and protection fees. But I’d never mentioned any of it to Louis; I didn’t want to burden him. This time, however, I was truly terrified. I called him, sobbing so hard I could barely breathe. I asked him, “Louis, what do I do? Save Muffin, please save her…” Louis knew how much Muffin meant to me, yet after a long silence, he still said he was sorry. I watched, helpless, as those burly men crushed my cat to death. I held her, feeling her grow cold and stiff in my arms. It was the same powerlessness I felt when my mother died in my embrace. Yet even then, I never hated Louis. I only regretted my own helplessness. But now, the truth was laid bare before me: the landlord who demanded my rent was Louis. The one who could have saved Muffin with a single word was also Louis. But he didn’t save her, and Muffin died. I bit down hard on my teeth, barely suppressing a sob. I ran out of the office building, hailed a taxi, and told the driver to take me to the airport. In the car, my hands shaking, I called my father. After twenty-seven years, the only person I could rely on was the father I had once disavowed. “Dad, please, come pick me up now? Please…” … Meanwhile, Louis Davies, Tiffany Chase, and his friends emerged from the office. His head was bowed, his gaze fixed intently on our chat window. Two whole days, and I hadn’t sent him a single message. He felt a surge of irritation, pulled out a cigarette to light it, then put it back, remembering I disliked the smell of smoke on him. One of his good friends clapped him on the shoulder from behind, looking rather smugly at the dark screen. “What’s up, Louis? The little lady can’t pay this time? Not playing with you anymore?” A flicker of annoyance crossed Louis’s eyes as he pushed his friend’s arm away. “Who said that? Cathy loves me so much, she’s probably off somewhere right now scraping money together for me!” “Just you wait, after I give her a few days, she’ll cough up the money!” No sooner had the words left his mouth than the agent, who had overheard my name, came over. “Cathy Lord? Mr. Davies, you know Miss Lord? Perfect, she wants to sublease her flower shop, and I was worried you wouldn’t agree!” Louis frowned. He had a vague feeling that the unease accumulating in his heart these past few days was about to find an answer today. He tried to steady his emotions, feigning a casual tone. “The flower shop is doing so well, why would she sublease it?” The agent offered him a placating smile, completely unaware of the significance of his words. “Miss Lord said she’s tired of running the flower shop. She’s going home to get married.”

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To facilitate my dialysis treatments, I rented the most expensive, exclusive parking spot closest to the hospital. But my wife’s childhood friend always, on rainy days, with red-rimmed eyes, begged me to give him the spot, claiming his asthma meant he couldn’t get wet. I refused: “There’s a public parking lot nearby. It’s just a few extra steps. Why do you need to take mine?” When my wife found out, she was furious: “Can’t you be a little kinder? His asthma flared up; he nearly died on the road!” I didn’t understand: “He has a car, yet he chooses to get soaked in the rain just to take my spot. How is that my fault? Besides, it’s an exclusive spot; I paid for it, first come, first served.” My wife fell silent: “I’m sorry, I was too anxious.” For the next few months, she drove me to and from appointments, rain or shine. But on the day I suffered acute kidney failure and desperately needed emergency treatment, she drove me around for three hours, deliberately missing the crucial window for treatment. On the hospital’s large screen, she was seen embracing her childhood friend, a cold smile on her face: “Didn’t you say ‘first come, first served’? Now there are no beds available in the dialysis unit. I’d like to see how long your life has to wait in line.”

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I was reported by parents in a joint complaint, saying I assigned too much homework. So I simply canceled all homework and evening study sessions, strictly implementing “happy education.” When the monthly exam results came out, the parents exploded. They blocked the school gates, crying and begging me to restart the tutoring classes. I was called to the principal’s office before dawn had fully broken. The cold air of a winter morning cut across my face like a knife. “Miss Harper, take a look at this first.” Principal Anderson’s face was ashen as he pushed his phone toward me, his voice suppressing barely controlled fury. On the phone screen was the city’s most popular education forum. A bolded, red-highlighted post stabbed into my eyes. High School Teacher Forces Supplementary Classes, “Honors Class” Becomes “Student Torture Chamber” Followed by a red “TRENDING” badge. My heart sank sharply. The post’s content was an “anonymous” plea for help, eloquently written and highly inflammatory. “We’re not learning machines. We have flesh and blood too. We long for the sunlight outside the window and a moment to breathe. But here, all we have are endless ‘enrichment worksheets’ and our nights and weekends—time that should belong to us—ruthlessly taken away. Miss Harper says the SAT is a war, and we can rest after we win. But we haven’t even reached the battlefield yet, and we’re already collapsing in the darkness before dawn…” “We’re so tired. We want to cry. Watching students in other classes participate in club activities, reading books they enjoy during study hall—we’re so envious. It’s not that we don’t work hard. We just… don’t want to exhaust all our passion for the future in this suffocating ‘student torture chamber’…” The letter also included several maliciously edited audio recordings. My statement “Suffering a bit now gives you more choices in the future” was cut down to just the cold phrase “suffer a bit.” My encouragement “Once you cross the SAT hurdle, the world opens up—everyone just hang in there” was reduced to an impatient “cross it.” The image of a cold, obsessive “demon teacher” who only pursued grades and disregarded students’ lives leaped off the page. The comment section had completely exploded. 【Oh my God! Which school is this? Terrifying! Still doing this kind of cramming education!】 【Support the kids! Gen Z should speak up bravely! Someone expose this teacher!】 【’Honors Class’? More like ‘Hell Class’! Doesn’t the Department of Education care?】 【My heart breaks for these kids. Hugs. This teacher doesn’t deserve to educate anyone! Should be fired!】 【I’m from the class next door at this school, can confirm they study until after 10pm every day. So intense!】 【Need insider students to come forward! Let’s see how twisted this Miss Harper really is!】 【@CityDepartmentofEducation come do your job!】 … Holding the cold phone, a chill crept up from between my vertebrae. Not anger, but a tremendous sense of absurdity at being betrayed. Those “enrichment worksheets” I stayed up nights organizing, selected from over a thousand practice sets—in their mouths, they became the straw that broke their backs. The personal time I sacrificed to supervise their evening study sessions, always available to answer questions—that became “ruthless occupation.” Showing them the most difficult but most effective path to top universities—that made me the “chief architect of student torture”? The phone buzzed on the office desk. Principal Anderson’s voice trembled slightly: “Miss Harper, the Department of Education is calling. They say they’ve received numerous complaints and are demanding we investigate immediately and give the public an explanation!”

I walked out of the principal’s office. The hallway was empty, yet it felt like eyes were watching from everywhere. A strange atmosphere permeated the air. Class 11-1, this so-called “Honors Class,” was my labor of love since I started teaching them in ninth grade. From initial student selection to creating each semester’s teaching plan, to crafting customized preparation strategies for students at different levels—I could say with confidence I’d never slacked off for a moment. I firmly believed that for these kids without privileged backgrounds, the SAT was one of the few truly fair battlefields in their lives. And my responsibility was to forge them the sharpest weapons. So I sacrificed nearly all my holidays, organizing materials from tens of thousands of practice tests into what they called “devil enrichment worksheets.” Every single problem targeted an SAT difficulty point. So I turned down all social engagements to supervise their evening study sessions. As long as they didn’t understand any concept, I would explain until they got it. I believed this was being responsible for their futures—with high scores, you can choose the city you want, study the major you love, have the confidence to say no… This matters far more than empty “happiness slogans” and superficial “enrichment activities.” But now, this had become ironclad evidence of “student torture,” the reason for nationwide condemnation. Passing other classroom doors, I could hear whispered conversations inside. “Did you hear? Miss Harper from Class 1 got called out online.” “Serves her right. Why does she have to be so intense, making the pressure high for us too.” “Exactly. Someone should’ve dealt with her ages ago.” I pushed open my own classroom door. The previously noisy morning reading session came to an abrupt halt the moment I appeared. Dozens of pairs of eyes turned toward me in unison—panic, evasion, curiosity, schadenfreude… emotions intertwined. Then, like startled birds, they instantly lowered their heads, pretending to read aloud. My gaze swept slowly across the room, finally settling on a seat by the window. Melissa. A transfer student from out of state last semester. Above-average grades, very well-behaved, sweet-talking. At this moment, she kept her head down, long lashes covering her eyelids, shoulders trembling slightly—the picture of a frightened deer. I recalled last week’s composition class. Melissa had used almost identical metaphors in her essay to describe “the pain of not being understood.” At the time, I’d thought this girl had delicate writing skills and a sensitive mind. Now, those words from the post overlapped perfectly with the face before me. I could almost certainly conclude that aside from Melissa, it couldn’t be anyone else. I also remembered a parent in the group chat named Marcus Bennett. His own child had mediocre grades, yet he always loved to pontificate in the group, playing the “thought leader.” “Kids today suffer too much. We should give them a happy childhood!” “Grades aren’t everything! Mental and physical health matter most!” “I support reducing academic burden! Firmly against sea-of-questions tactics!” At the time, I’d only thought he was talking without understanding the stakes, and hadn’t dwelt on it. Now, those high-minded words overlapped seamlessly with the angry comments online. Could it really be that I was wrong? Did I push too hard, making them feel this was all torture, to the point where they could justifiably strike back? I laughed bitterly at myself. My phone rang again. The academic director. “Miss Harper, get over here now! Major trouble! The Department of Education investigation team is already at the school gates!” The voice on the other end was panicked beyond recognition. I took a deep breath, suppressing the disappointment surging in my chest. “I understand.” Fine. Since you so desperately crave this so-called “happiness,” so thoroughly detest this narrow path covered in thorns. Then I’ll return to you that broad, flower-strewn avenue. I addressed the entire class calmly: “This afternoon, fourth period, emergency parent meeting. Everyone must notify their parents.”

The parent meeting was set for 4:30 PM. The auditorium was packed. An unusual atmosphere churned through the air. Anger, doubt, spectators eager for drama, and a barely detectable smugness. Marcus Bennett sat front and center, surrounded by several parents, gesticulating as he spoke. When he saw me enter, he immediately stopped talking, replacing his expression with one of righteous indignation, like a judge about to sentence a criminal. Melissa’s mother sat beside him, eyes red-rimmed, clutching a tissue, looking both haggard and aggrieved. I ignored the gazes that seemed ready to devour me and walked straight to the podium. “Miss Harper, you’re finally here.” Marcus spoke first, voice not loud but enough for the entire room to hear. His tone carried a condescending sort of “concern.” “We’re here today not to accuse you. We just want to communicate with you. The children are under too much pressure. I’m sure you saw that online post. The children’s voices are the most genuine. As parents, we can’t ignore this!” He looked around as if seeking support. “That’s right, Miss Harper, this can’t continue!” “My child has been suffering from insomnia lately, always complaining of headaches!” “The SAT is important, but our children’s lives are more important!” Echoes rose one after another. Just then, Melissa’s mother burst into tears with a wail, her voice shrill and full of accusation. “Miss Harper! I’m begging you! Please let my daughter go! She’s only seventeen! Two nights ago she had nightmares, crying about ‘worksheets, endless worksheets’! Her hair is falling out in clumps! If this continues, you’ll drive her insane!” As she cried, she stared at me with those bloodshot eyes. “We don’t ask for her to get into some top university! We just want her healthy! Happy! Living like a normal kid! Is that too much to ask?!” Her tearful accusation was like gasoline poured on an already smoldering fire. The entire auditorium’s emotions ignited completely. “This is too much! Practically abuse!” “We need answers!” Just as the situation was about to spiral out of control, the back door of the classroom opened. Principal Anderson entered with two stern-looking men. “I’m from the Department of Education investigation team, surname Li.” The lead man got straight to the point. “We’ve received numerous formal complaints alleging that Miss Harper has engaged in unauthorized supplementary classes and excessive student workload. We’re here today to investigate on-site. The Department of Education’s position is clear: students’ mental and physical health always comes first!” Investigator Li’s words were like a final judgment, giving all the “denouncing” parents a shot of confidence. The smugness on Marcus Bennett’s face was barely concealed. I stood on the podium, looking at those faces with their various expressions. My gaze passed through the crowd, landing on a corner. That was Lily’s father. A quiet, taciturn middle-aged man. Last semester, Lily had acute appendicitis requiring immediate surgery. He was on a business trip at the time, beside himself with worry. It was me who, without hesitation, advanced all the medical expenses, signed the forms, and stayed at the hospital all night until he rushed back. At the time, he had gripped my hands, eyes red-rimmed, words incoherent, bowing repeatedly. And now, this man, as Marcus delivered his passionate speech, as Melissa’s mother wept bitterly—he simply nodded in agreement. That nod felt like a red-hot steel needle piercing my heart. More than the vicious online curses, more than Marcus’s public confrontation, more than Melissa’s mother’s tearful accusations—it made me feel bone-deep cold. So the devoted help I thought I’d given, the teacher-student bond I thought existed, was so worthless in the face of so-called “public opinion.” I closed my eyes, forcibly suppressing the surge of blood and qi. When I opened them again, all emotion had drained from my eyes, leaving only deathly calm.

“Miss Harper,” Marcus continued pressing, “you see, the Department of Education leadership is here. Surely you should give us some kind of response now?” “A response?” I spoke coldly, voice not loud, yet instantly silencing the entire room. I turned to Investigator Li, turned to all the parents, and bowed slightly. “I understand everyone’s meaning. ‘Public opinion’ cannot be defied. The children’s ‘happiness’ matters most.” “I will implement reforms immediately.” My gaze swept across Marcus, across Melissa’s mother, finally settling on those dozens of scrutinizing eyes below the podium. “Tomorrow morning, I will announce my reform plan.” My voice was calm, yet carried a determination they couldn’t comprehend. “A plan… that conforms to ‘public opinion.’” The next morning, the school’s morning exercises were temporarily canceled. In their place was an impromptu all-school assembly. A massive white screen slowly descended. A notice titled “Regarding Teaching Method Adjustments for Class 11-1” was projected before everyone’s eyes. Simultaneously, this notice was pushed to every Class 11-1 parent’s phone. I held the microphone, face calm. Principal Anderson and Investigator Li from the Department of Education stood behind me, expressions complex. The notice’s first paragraph was a “profound self-criticism.” “…In my past teaching work, my thinking was rigid, my methods outdated. I overemphasized test-taking techniques and scores while neglecting humanistic care and well-rounded student development. This caused enormous psychological pressure for students and drew criticism from all sectors of society. For this, I offer my most sincere apologies…” Below the stage, students whispered among themselves. In the Class 1 section, Melissa and several close friends wore victorious smiles. In the parent group, Marcus immediately took a screenshot, adding a “sweet justice” emoji. Then I began reading the core content of the notice. “After profound reflection, and with approval from the school and supervising authorities, the following adjustments will be made to Class 11-1’s teaching model:” “Article One: Effective immediately, all ‘enrichment worksheets,’ ‘practice tests,’ and supplementary materials are canceled. Daily homework will strictly follow the national Department of Education curriculum standards, absolutely no exceeding standards, absolutely no additions.” Below, barely suppressed cheers nearly broke through the ceiling. “Article Two: Effective immediately, all evening study sessions, weekend classes, and any form of group tutoring are canceled. Evening study time will be fully adjusted to ‘student free activity time,’ which may be used for club activities, extracurricular reading, or independent rest. The schedule will be strictly observed, with dismissal promptly at 5 PM, absolutely no overtime.” The cheers grew louder. Some students even excitedly whistled. Melissa proudly straightened her chest, basking in the grateful looks from surrounding classmates. “Article Three: Effective immediately, this class’s teaching focus will comprehensively shift from ‘test-oriented education’ to ‘well-rounded education.’ Classes will incorporate research projects, art appreciation, and other elements, aiming to cultivate students’ comprehensive qualities and innovative abilities, ultimately achieving ‘happy learning, comprehensive development.’” In the auditorium, thunderous applause erupted. These three provisions were like three pardons, completely liberating the students who’d been “oppressed” for so long. They’d won. A great victory, initiated “from the bottom up” by students and parents working together. Only the few top students in the front rows had faces pale as death, eyes filled with shock. But their voices were already drowned in the “victorious” celebration. Marcus spammed the parent group frantically: “See that! This is the power of public opinion! We fought for our children’s happiness!” The group filled with “Marcus is awesome,” “Thank you Marcus for speaking up for us.” Just as I was about to say “assembly dismissed”— Principal Anderson behind me swayed violently. He stared at his phone, all color draining from his face. He tried to rush forward and grab my microphone, but it was too late. An email just received was projected onto that massive white screen. Every teacher and student in the school could see it clearly. From: New York University Office of Admissions Subject: [URGENT] Notice of Revocation of Joint Recommendation Qualification for “Elite Seedling Program” Preview: Dear Principal Anderson and School Leadership: We are shocked to learn of major adjustments to your school’s “Honors Class” teaching approach, particularly the cancellation of all advanced-level courses and intensive tutoring led by Miss Harper. Our “Elite Seedling Program” aims to identify and secure top-tier students who excel in precisely these types of advanced courses. Given your school’s current educational reforms, you no longer meet the “Elite Seedling Program” student cultivation standards. Following urgent deliberation by our admissions committee, we formally notify you: Your school’s “Elite Seedling Program” joint recommendation slots for this academic year are hereby revoked, effective immediately.

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