Author: Momo Chan

My bestie secretly whispered a jaw-dropping secret to me: her husband had two cocks. As an oncologist, I immediately warned her that it was likely a tumor. If it wasn’t surgically removed, it could turn into terminal cancer. Chloe scoffed at my advice. “A tumor? Please, you’re just jealous because you haven’t seen it.” “Whatever. You’re single and lonely, Avery. What would you know about a real man?” But I kept nagging her out of love, and she finally agreed to take him to the hospital. The ultrasound confirmed it. It was indeed a malignant tumor. Who would have thought that after Garrett had the tumor removed, his sexual performance completely tanked? Chloe brainwashed her husband, telling him that I was the one who ruined their marital bliss. “She knew you had a double package, Garrett! She was so jealous of me that she did this on purpose!” “Now you’re useless in bed, and it’s all her fault! A wicked bitch like her deserves to die!” The next thing I knew, Garrett pushed me off the hospital’s rooftop garden. I plummeted to my death. When I opened my eyes again, I was back to the exact day Chloe came to me with her little secret. This time, I was going to mind my own business.

“Avery, come closer. Let me tell you something crazy. My husband is… gifted. He literally has two cocks! I am the luckiest girl alive!” When I finally processed what my bestie, Chloe, was saying, my pupils dilated in sheer horror. My back went stiff, cold sweat broke out across my neck, and my hands clenched into tight fists. Seeing my reaction, Chloe swatted my arm playfully, a smug, blushing grin plastered on her face. “Look at you, completely speechless! Shocked, right? I was stunned too when I first found out.” “I’m only telling you because you’re my bestie. Keep it on the down-low, okay?” Only this time, I noticed what I had missed in my past life—underneath her fake modesty, Chloe’s eyes were filled with bragging rights and deep satisfaction. My entire body was tense, my fists still clenched, and my breathing grew shallow. It wasn’t because of her wild confession. It was because of the mind-blowing realization that I had been reborn. I was back to the day before all the tragedies started. In my past life, when she asked me out saying she had good news, I actually thought she was pregnant. I had even prepared a baby shower gift, only for her to brag about her husband’s double anatomy. She had leaned in, vividly describing their bedroom activities in graphic detail. But as a doctor, red flags instantly went up in my head. Every organ in the human body has a specific function. It is biologically impossible to suddenly grow a duplicate organ out of nowhere. Besides, Garrett wasn’t born with it. If it suddenly appeared, something was seriously wrong. Since we grew up together and I genuinely cared for her, I gave her my professional opinion. I suggested she take Garrett to a urologist immediately. If it was a tumor, early removal could save his life and prevent cancer. Instead of thanking me, Chloe’s face turned incredibly sour. She made up a dozen excuses, insisting it was a genetic blessing. After that day, she slowly began to distance herself from me. I thought she was just being forgetful, so after my hospital shifts, I kept messaging her on Snapchat, desperately trying to persuade her. I even researched medical journals and sent her case studies of similar tumors. Eventually, she agreed to the checkup. The diagnosis was exactly what I feared: a tumor. Because I was an oncologist, she cried and said she only trusted me, begging me to be the lead surgeon. I felt so bad for her that I cleared my busy schedule, postponed other surgeries, and personally operated on her husband. But once Garrett recovered, his bedroom performance withered. Chloe lost her mind. She accused me of being jealous of her happiness and intentionally ruining her husband’s manhood. She dragged Garrett to the hospital, screaming and staging protests to demand millions in malpractice compensation. And once they got their way, she lured me out under the pretense of a chat, only for Garrett to push me off the balcony when my guard was down. This time, I was done playing savior. Seeing that I hadn’t responded for a long time, Chloe nudged me again. “Avery? Are you even listening to me?” “I wonder if it’s a genetic thing in his family. To just grow another one at this age…” “Actually, Garrett has a younger brother, Gavin. If Gavin turns out to be just as gifted, want me to set you up? We are best friends, after all.” Ah, yes. “Best friends.” I sneered inwardly but kept a polite, slightly embarrassed smile on my face. “No, thanks. I’m not really into that. You know I’m happily single.” “Plus, my residency training is kicking into high gear, and I have to write a major research paper. I barely have time to sleep.” Chloe sighed, looking disappointed. “What a waste. But as a doctor, have you ever seen anything like this before?” “Like, could Garrett be sick or something? Think about it, how can a guy just grow a second one…” So, she actually knew something was wrong. She was just testing me. I quickly waved my hand. “I really wouldn’t know. I’m in oncology, Chloe, not urology. I don’t deal with genetic anomalies or male reproductive issues.” Chloe stared at me thoughtfully. “I see…” “Well, if you don’t know, forget it. It’s probably nothing anyway.” Seeing that our food was gone, and remembering the chilling look of satisfaction on her face when I died in my past life, I couldn’t stand being near her for another second. I made up an excuse about a hospital emergency and hurried out of the restaurant. 2 Chloe and I had been friends since childhood. At least in my head, we were the kind of besties who shared everything. Her family was lower-middle class, and her parents openly favored her deadbeat younger brother. Growing up in that toxic environment made Chloe insecure, sensitive, and timid. Because of her personality, she was a loner at school and became an easy target for bullies. I was different. I was an only child from a wealthy, loving family. Naturally, I was outgoing and confident. When I saw her being bullied, I stepped in to protect her. I helped her with her studies, shared my clothes, and introduced her to my circle of friends. Gradually, she blossomed. She became cheerful, lost her shyness, and made new friends. As we grew older, she constantly told me I was her favorite person and her life mentor. She said her biggest dream in life was to become a girl just like me. That was why I never suspected she could ever harbor such hatred towards me. But after experiencing death, I finally started questioning our entire friendship. Did Chloe ever actually feel grateful to me? Over the next few days, Chloe tried to invite me out several times. But I rejected her with every excuse in the book. To make my excuses look real, I didn’t take a single day off. I practically lived at the hospital. The exhausting shifts actually comforted me. They reminded me that I was alive. However, despite my best efforts to ghost her, Chloe’s mess still found its way to me. One evening, I logged into my professional Instagram account and saw a new comment on my latest post. A brand-new account with a burner username from my local area had commented: “Dr. Avery, is it possible for a man to have two cocks? Or could it be a tumor?” I stared at the comment for a long time, my fingers hovering over the screen. As an oncologist, I often received medical questions from random netizens on Instagram. Usually, I would reply to them. But this time, I froze. The username was completely anonymous, and the profile was blank. It was obvious. Someone had made a burner account specifically to bait me. I suddenly remembered that this had happened in my past life too. Back then, I hadn’t thought about reminding Chloe again. But after seeing this comment, I immediately connected the dots. I replied to the user with my medical opinion and then reached out to Chloe. I explained the risks and begged her to take Garrett to the hospital. Looking back, how many people in this city could possibly have such a rare medical condition? I had been so naive in my past life, thinking it was just another random patient. Now I realized the person behind that burner account was either Chloe or Garrett himself. Instead of replying, I posted a quick update: Taking a social media break for an upcoming training seminar. Logging off! Then, I logged out of the app. I told myself I wouldn’t touch my socials for the next few weeks. I managed to avoid her online, but I couldn’t avoid her at work. Chloe showed up at my hospital. The moment I stepped out of the operating room, she rushed toward me, intercepting me in the hallway. “Avery! Thank God I found you.” “I’ve been calling you non-stop, but your phone is dead. I really need your medical advice.” My surgical assistant saw how pale and exhausted I was and immediately stepped in. “Dr. Avery just finished a grueling twelve-hour surgery after back-to-back prep meetings. She hasn’t slept in over twenty hours. Perhaps you could schedule an appointment or come back tomorrow?” Her words finally got through to Chloe. She glared at me, clearly annoyed, and sighed. “Fine.” 3 Running away wasn’t going to solve the problem forever. The fact that she had cornered me at my workplace meant I needed to take the offensive. The biggest question was: if Chloe already suspected Garrett had a tumor, why hadn’t she taken him to a clinic yet? In my past life, they went to the hospital, which ultimately led to my death. In this life, I stepped back, yet she was still chasing me down. Unless… She didn’t just want Garrett gone; she wanted to drag me into it too. The thought sent a shiver down my spine. Why would she hate me that much? Chloe had dropped out of college early and married Garrett, a blue-collar worker who worshipped the ground she walked on. Garrett was what older folks called a “good, honest man”—he didn’t drink, didn’t gamble, and didn’t cheat. But he was also broke. Shortly after they married, Chloe got pregnant and became a stay-at-home mom. With Garrett’s sole, meager income, their lives were financially tight. Every time we met, she would complain about her boring, broke life. She complained that Garrett couldn’t make real money, that they were living paycheck to paycheck, and she even talked about divorcing him. But lately, she had stopped complaining. She seemed to be in a fantastic mood. A few days ago, I even noticed she was wearing a brand-new solid gold necklace. When I asked, she claimed Garrett had made some extra cash and bought it for her. I was highly suspicious. Having known Garrett for years, I knew he didn’t have a romantic bone in his body, let alone the cash for luxury jewelry. Was Chloe seeing someone else? Now that the seed of doubt was planted, I decided to investigate. During my days off, I started keeping tabs on Chloe’s daily routine. She was a housewife, and her son was already in elementary school. Her husband worked long hours, which left her with plenty of free time during the day. It didn’t take long for me to catch her. One morning, after dropping her son off at school, she didn’t head to the grocery store or go home to clean. Instead, she walked into a quiet alley, applied a bold red lipstick, and waited on a street corner. Ten minutes later, a sleek black sedan pulled up. Her face lit up with a brilliant smile, and she slid into the passenger seat. I quickly followed them in a rental car. I tracked them all the way to a cheap motel on the outskirts of the city. I watched them get out of the car, hand-in-hand, and walk inside. I snapped several clear photos of them together before parking nearby to wait. About two hours later, they walked out. Chloe’s hair was slightly messy, and she looked thoroughly satisfied. They even shared a passionate kiss inside the car before he drove her back. I saved all the photos in a secure cloud folder. They were my insurance policy. But that wasn’t all. Over the next month, I dug up another terrifying piece of information. Chloe had secretly taken out a massive accidental death insurance policy on Garrett. When I found out, my mind immediately raced to those horrific “spouse-killing-for-insurance” true crime stories. She was clearly planning something sinister. To keep myself safe, I quietly terminated my apartment lease and moved to a secure condo with strict gated access, cutting off any chance of her cornering me at home. While Chloe stopped reaching out, two weeks later, Garrett messaged me on Snapchat. “Dr. Avery, are you free? There’s something I want to ask you, but I’m not sure if it’s appropriate.” I didn’t reply immediately. I let the message sit for three days before typing a cold response. Garrett, you are Chloe’s husband. If you think it’s inappropriate, then it’s best not to ask. Setting boundaries with a bestie’s husband was the smartest thing to do. Fortunately, my coldness worked, and he didn’t text back. But almost immediately after I sent that message, Chloe called me. Realizing I had just been active online, I had no choice but to pick up. “Hey, Chloe. What’s up?” Chloe’s voice sounded panicked. “Avery! Remember what I told you about Garrett’s… you know, his extra part? He says it’s starting to hurt really badly. I’m scared something is wrong.” 4 My heart sank. She was trying to bait me into giving medical advice again. As a doctor, I gave advice to hundreds of patients, and they were always grateful. Even if they didn’t like the diagnosis, they never blamed me personally. But Chloe wasn’t a normal patient. She was a ticking time bomb. I had to be incredibly careful with my words. “I really can’t say, Chloe. Like I told you, I’m not a urologist, so I don’t know much about that area.” “Maybe you guys are just… keeping too busy at night?” I joked lightly, trying to keep the mood casual. “You should talk to Garrett and see what he wants to do.” Right then, a nurse knocked on my office door. I quickly called out to her and turned back to the phone. “Chloe, I have to go. An emergency patient just came in, and we need to prep for surgery. I’ll call you back later.” Without waiting for her reply, I hung up. After a grueling six-hour surgery, I was completely drained. I went back to my office to change, only to find Chloe and Garrett standing right outside my door. The young nurse looked terrified. “Dr. Avery, I tried to stop them, but they just pushed past me…” I waved my hand. “It’s fine. Go get some rest.” I knew that even if the nurse stopped them today, Chloe would just find another way to corner me tomorrow. Once the nurse left, Chloe plopped down on my office sofa. “Avery, what am I supposed to do?” She burst into tears, covering her face. Garrett stood beside her, his face dark and silent, looking incredibly stressed. I stood there, watching her cry without offering any comfort. Seeing that her tears weren’t getting a reaction out of me, Chloe stopped acting and grabbed an envelope from Garrett’s hand, tossing the scan results onto my desk. “Avery, I know you’re the best doctor in this hospital. After Garrett’s pain got unbearable, we went to get him checked. Look at this.” She tapped her finger on the diagnosis line, her voice cracking with fake sorrow. “The doctor said it’s a tumor. It’s not a second cock, and he needs surgery immediately.” “But I looked it up online! People say it could be chimerism. You know what that is, right? It’s when one twin absorbs the other in the womb. That means it could still be a second part! But the doctor insisted…” “Avery, I only trust you. You’re the top oncologist here. Your face is literally on the hospital’s wall of fame! Since we’re best friends, you have to perform the surgery.”

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I had a poor appetite and left half my bowl of rice. My dad, Arthur, gently patted my head with concern. “Why are you eating so little, sweetie? You’re getting so thin.” My mom, Clara, chimed in from the side, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “She’s growing up. She’s starting to care about her looks. Unlike me. After I had her, I gained so much weight and never lost it.” Arthur didn’t notice the coldness in her eyes. Without even looking up, he agreed, “True, you are a bit on the heavier side now. It’s not healthy. You should go on a diet.” Right after Arthur left the house, Clara marched into my room, holding the hot rice cooker pot. She grabbed the back of my neck and slammed my face straight into the scalding hot rice. “Eat! I said eat! Eat until you throw up!” “Always playing the fake little angel in front of him! Let’s see you play dead now!” The boiling hot rice pressed hard against my cheek. Every single grain felt like a branding iron. “M-Mom… it burns…” I struggled wildly, my hands clawing at the air, but her grip on my neck was like steel. “Burns? Good! It should burn!” Clara’s voice hissed in my ear, filled with a twisted, manic excitement. “Don’t you love playing the victim in front of him? I’ll give you something to actually cry about!” Only when the residual heat of the rice finally faded did she roughly let go of me. I collapsed onto the floor, clutching half of my face. The pain was so intense that I couldn’t even scream. I could only make muffled, whimpering sounds like a wounded animal. In the mirror, the left side of my face was blistered and bright red. A few squashed grains of rice still stuck to my skin. I looked pathetic and ridiculous. Clara looked down at me, a twisted sense of satisfaction spreading across her face. “Clean yourself up.” She pulled out a few wet wipes and threw them at my face. “When your father gets back, tell him you were clumsy. Tell him you slipped while carrying hot soup and fell face-first. Got it?” With tears in my eyes, I nodded desperately. I didn’t dare to say no. A few days later, Arthur returned. When he saw the lingering scars on my face, his expression changed instantly. He rushed over to me. “Lily! What happened to your face?” I lowered my head, not daring to look him in the eye. I repeated the lie Clara had forced me to memorize: “…I was clumsy. I slipped.” Clara chimed in right on cue, her voice sounding full of “concern” and mild annoyance. “She’s sixteen, yet she’s still so clumsy.” “Fortunately, the soup wasn’t boiling hot. Otherwise, half her face would have been ruined.” Arthur gently cupped my face, blowing softly on my cheek. “You silly girl. Be careful next time.” His hands were warm and dry. He smelled of tobacco and aftershave. Instinctively, I wanted to lean into his warmth. But behind him, Clara’s gaze felt like poisoned needles stabbing into my back. I quickly took a step back, escaping Arthur’s touch. “Dad, I’m fine. I’m going to my room to do homework.” I fled to my room, shut the door, and slid down against it. The tears fell silently. I wanted so badly to tell Arthur the truth. But I didn’t dare. Arthur loved me, but he loved Clara too. Clara always told me that the only reason Arthur cared about me was because I was her daughter. I believed her. Besides, Arthur was always so busy. Most of the time, we didn’t even see each other once a week. I was nothing but a doll in Clara’s hands, to be played with or broken at her whim. From that day on, I stopped responding to Arthur’s kindness. Because I knew that every ounce of love he showed me would only make Clara burn with jealousy. And later, she would take out all her bottled-up rage on me in the most brutal ways.

From that day on, I deliberately avoided Arthur. On the rare occasions he came home, I locked myself in my room. When he called me for dinner, I always said I wasn’t hungry. When he wanted to talk about school, I answered with one-word grunts. Arthur thought I was just going through a rebellious teenage phase. He only sighed with helplessness. Clara, however, seemed very pleased with my “good behavior.” For a while, the tension in the house eased up. Until Arthur came back from another business trip. He brought back a beautiful white dress for me. “Our Lily will look like an absolute angel in this,” Arthur said, holding the dress against me with a proud, beaming smile. Looking at the dress, I didn’t feel joy. I felt a cold, paralyzing terror. Sure enough, Clara’s face darkened instantly. She forced a stiff smile. “Why buy her a white dress? It gets dirty so easily. Besides, her skin isn’t as fair as mine. It’ll just make her look washed out.” Arthur, completely oblivious to her jealousy, said cheerfully, “No way! Lily has your complexion. She’s fair and beautiful. I remember you used to love white dresses when you were young. Back then…” “Enough!” Clara snapped, her voice sharp and screeching. “That was a long time ago! Why bring it up!” Arthur froze, startled by her sudden outburst. Trying to clear the awkwardness, he chuckled, “Alright, alright, I won’t. Lily, go try it on.” Holding the dress, it felt like a hot coal burning my hands. I wanted to refuse. I wanted to tell Arthur I hated white dresses. But looking at his expectant, loving eyes, the words clogged in my throat. “Go on, Lily. Go try it on. Your dad spent a long time picking this out for you.” “Yeah, your dad bought this specifically for you. He didn’t even get me anything. Go put it on. Show your dad…” Clara smiled sweetly, but her eyes were cold as daggers. I had no choice. I walked into my room with a heavy heart. I put on the dress and lingered inside for as long as I could before stepping out. The moment Arthur saw me, his eyes lit up. “Beautiful! So beautiful! I knew it, my daughter is the prettiest girl in the world!” He pulled out his phone, snapping photos of me non-stop. Clara stood right behind him. She didn’t say a word, just stared at me with murderous eyes. In that moment, I didn’t feel like a girl in a pretty new dress. I felt like a prisoner standing on the scaffold, waiting for the blade to fall. That night, Arthur went to bed early, exhausted from his trip. Just as I finished my shower, my bedroom door creaked open. Clara walked in. In her hand, she held a pair of sharp kitchen scissors. “Put the dress on,” she commanded. “Mom, it’s so late…” “I said, put it on!” With trembling hands, I pulled the white dress back over my body. Clara looked at me with satisfaction, then raised the scissors. “Snip—” A long lock of my dark hair fell onto the pristine white fabric. She grabbed my hair, cutting it chunk by chunk. In the mirror, my long, beautiful hair was hacked into an ugly, uneven mess. Tears welled up in my eyes, but I forced myself not to let them fall. “Fair skin? Like me?” Clara mocked, whispering harshly in my ear as she cut. “What makes you think you can ever compare to me?” “You are nothing but a tool I birthed to keep him tied to me. To secure my place!” “And now you want to wear white dresses like me? You don’t deserve it!” She threw the scissors aside, grabbed my head by the hair, and slammed it hard against the mirror. “Crash!” The mirror shattered. Through the web of cracks, I saw my own broken, tear-stained face.

Arthur was still incredibly busy. He left early the next morning. By the time he returned a few weeks later, the bruise on my forehead had faded. My hacked hair had grown out slightly, looking like an edgy pixie cut. Arthur was surprised at first, but then he smiled. “Our Lily looks great with short hair too! I know what this is—it’s called a cool, modern look, right?” I hesitated, wanting to say something, but the moment I caught Clara’s warning glare from the kitchen, I kept my mouth shut. Soon, it was my sixteenth birthday. Arthur said he had missed too many of my birthdays because of work, and he promised to make it up to me this year. He started planning two weeks in advance. He ordered a cake from the best bakery in town and took a whole day off just to spend it with me. On the morning of my birthday, he woke me up early, excitedly holding out a small velvet box. “Happy birthday, Lily! My baby girl is another year older.” I opened the box. Inside was a delicate silver locket. Arthur smiled and clicked it open. Inside was a photo of him from his younger days—handsome, tall, and smiling. “When I’m not around, this locket will protect you for me.” A warmth bloomed in my chest, and my eyes grew hot. But when I looked up and saw Clara standing in the doorway, the blood in my veins turned to ice. She was standing there in her messy loungewear, hair uncombed, face pale. She stared at the locket in my hand with a look of pure, consuming madness. Arthur followed my gaze and smiled at her. “Clara, look at this. Doesn’t it look beautiful on Lily?” Clara didn’t say a word. Slowly, very slowly, she pulled her lips back into a smile that looked more like a corpse’s grimace. Cold sweat broke out across my body. I instinctively reached up to take the necklace off. But Arthur stopped my hand. “Keep it on. It’s your birthday present from me.” That day, Clara was unusually quiet. She even cooked a big dinner filled with my favorite foods. She kept putting food on my plate, smiling warmly the entire time. But underneath that calm surface, I could feel a volcano ready to erupt. Sure enough, by evening, Arthur’s phone rang. It was an emergency at work. He had to fly out immediately. “Lily, I’m so sorry. I can’t stay to blow out the candles with you,” he said guiltily, stroking my hair. “When I get back, I promise I’ll bring you an even bigger present to make it up to you, okay?” I grabbed the edge of his coat, shaking my head desperately, my eyes begging him. “Don’t go, Dad. Please don’t leave me alone with her.” But he didn’t understand. He just thought I was being affectionate. He smiled and comforted me, “Silly girl, I’ll be back before you know it.” The front door clicked shut. His footsteps faded down the hallway. The apartment fell into a dead, suffocating silence. Clara slowly stood up. Her slippers dragged against the hardwood floor. Step by step, she walked toward me. I froze, too terrified to look back. “Did you have a nice birthday?” her voice whispered from behind me. A shiver ran up my spine. She walked around to face me, then knelt down so we were eye-to-eye. She reached out, her fingers gently tracing the silver locket around my neck. Her touch was incredibly soft, as if she were handling a priceless treasure. “It’s so beautiful,” she whispered. “So much more beautiful than the one he gave me the year we got married.” Suddenly, her fingernails dug viciously into my skin. “You cheap little slut… are you trying to steal my husband from me now?”

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After I gave birth, Ethan was so worried I’d get postpartum depression and feel insecure that he went out of his way to replace our pretty maid with Bertha—a frumpy, two-hundred-pound housekeeper. Even though his company was incredibly busy, he made sure a different bouquet of fresh flowers and a thoughtful gift were delivered to my luxury postpartum recovery retreat every single day. That was until I received a torn custom designer gown. That very moment, I decided to end it. “We are getting a divorce. I don’t want a single penny of your money, and I never want to see your face again.” The moment he got my text, he literally walked out of a multi-million-dollar business negotiation and rushed over to my retreat. “Chloe, I replaced our housekeeper of eight years just so you wouldn’t feel insecure!” he panted, trying to defend himself. “You said you loved this designer, so I paid double and pre-ordered this gown six months in advance!” “And now you’re telling me you want a divorce? What is wrong with you? What more do you want?!” I coldly threw the expensive gown onto the floor. “Why don’t you give this gown to your new housekeeper then? I am divorcing you, Ethan. No matter what.”

It took less than thirty minutes after I sent that text for Ethan to burst into my private suite at the recovery retreat. Beads of sweat lined his forehead. He had obviously run all the way here. “Chloe Vance, do you have any idea how big the deal I was negotiating just now was?” He was trying to suppress his anger, but his voice was shaking uncontrollably. “Just because of one text from you, I left the entire board of directors waiting in the conference room!” I pulled the pre-drafted divorce papers from my nightstand and slid them across the table. “Perfect timing. Sign this.” “I get sole custody of our daughter. You can keep all your assets. I don’t want a single dime.” Ethan’s face went pale in an instant. “What kind of game are you playing right now?” He stared at the document in sheer disbelief. “Just because of this gown? If you don’t like it, I’ll order you another one. Ten of them! A hundred! Whatever you want!” “I get it. You’re mad at me because I’ve been too busy to spend time with you lately. But don’t use divorce to throw a tantrum.” I looked Ethan straight in the eye. “You know me, Ethan. I don’t joke about things like this.” He grabbed my hands, his eyes pleading. “Babe, please. I know your hormones are all over the place right now. You can scream at me, you can hit me, but please, don’t do this.” Outside the open door of my suite, a small crowd started to gather in the hallway. The nurses and some of the other wealthy mothers staying at the retreat began whispering among themselves. “What is she drama-queening about now? Her husband literally sends her different flowers and gifts every day. He’s like the perfect husband.” “Right? I heard he even fired his hot, young maid and hired a two-hundred-pound, plain-looking housekeeper just so she wouldn’t worry about him cheating!” “Some women are just so ungrateful. She just had a baby and she’s already starting drama.” The whispers weren’t loud, but they were loud enough to carry into the room. Ethan heard them too. He softened his voice, putting on his best caring-husband act. “Chloe, I know your hormones are making you sensitive right now.” “We’ve been together for so many years, and we just had our beautiful baby girl. If something is bothering you, just tell me. We can fix this together.” “But divorce? You can’t just throw that word around.” He sounded so incredibly sincere. But all I felt was a cold, bitter disgust. From college sweethearts to marriage, Ethan and I were each other’s first loves. We started our business together back in college. During the hardest times, I drank so much at business dinners to secure clients that I ended up with stomach bleeding. In the hospital room, he had held my hand tightly, swearing he would never let me suffer again, promising to make me the happiest woman in the world. And for a long time, he did exactly that. Everyone envied me for having such a perfect partner. During my pregnancy, even a slight frown on my face would make him worry for days. He insisted on doing everything himself whenever he could find the time. To prove he wouldn’t stray while I was stuck in recovery, he even replaced our cute, efficient maid of eight years with Bertha, a frumpy, obese woman. But I simply pulled my hand out of Ethan’s grip. “I am divorcing you. It’s final.” Seeing my cold determination, Bertha, who had been hovering outside the door, suddenly pushed her way into the room. “Mrs. Sterling, how can you treat Mr. Sterling like this?!” She yelled in her raspy voice, her chubby face twisted with righteous indignation. “Do you have any idea how much Mr. Sterling has done for you?!” “Just because you casually mentioned you liked this designer brand, Mr. Sterling pulled so many strings and paid a fortune to get this custom gown made for you.” “And you? You just throw a fit and demand a divorce over a dress!” I gave her a disgusted look. “You’re just a housekeeper. What right do you have to raise your voice at me in my own room?” “Since you care about him so much, why don’t you marry him instead?”

Bertha’s face instantly flushed red with embarrassment. “Mrs. Sterling… please. Look at me. How could someone like Mr. Sterling ever look at a girl like me?” I let out a cold laugh. “My own mother hasn’t even arrived yet, but you, a housekeeper, sure rushed over here fast, didn’t you?” Bertha’s eyes flickered with panic. She quickly tried to explain, “I—I was just bringing some documents Mr. Sterling left at home. I was just tagging along.” “When I heard you wanted a divorce, I just got worried. I felt bad for Mr. Sterling. Please don’t overthink this.” As she spoke, she actually started crying. “I’ve been fat since I was a kid. No boy ever looked at me in school.” “If Mr. Sterling hadn’t taken pity on me and given me this job, I wouldn’t even have the money to pay for my mom’s medical bills.” The onlookers outside whispered as they took in Bertha’s bloated frame and acne-scarred face. They shook their heads. “Is this wife crazy? She’s actually insecure about a housekeeper who looks like that?” “Exactly! Look at her size. She’s literally twice the size of her husband. What could he possibly see in her?” “If I looked like that housekeeper, I wouldn’t even dare to step out of the house, let alone try to steal someone’s husband!” Hearing the crowd take his side, Ethan’s confidence seemed to return. He squeezed my hand tightly and whispered, “Chloe, even strangers can see how ridiculous this is. Why are you being so stubborn?” “I hired Bertha specifically so you wouldn’t have to worry about anything during your recovery.” “We’ve been together for years. Why can’t you just trust me?” I looked at him and sneered. “Fine. Fire her right now.” Ethan froze. A flash of hesitation crossed his eyes. “Mrs. Sterling!” Bertha suddenly fell to her knees, tears streaming down her round cheeks. “Mrs. Sterling, my mother is in end-stage kidney failure! She needs dialysis every week, and my salary is the only thing keeping her alive!” “I know I’m ugly and I hurt your eyes. I promise I’ll only do the cleaning and cooking when you’re not around. I will never show my face to you again! Please, please don’t let Mr. Sterling fire me!” She wept hysterically, her heavy frame shaking with each sob. Sympathetic murmurs immediately broke out from the crowd in the hallway. “Oh my god, she’s so pitiful. Can’t the wife show some mercy?” “Exactly. The wife is just paranoid. The poor housekeeper did nothing wrong.” “I get that post-pregnancy hormones make you emotional, but this is just straight-up bullying.” The whispers grew louder. Bertha even reached out and grabbed the hem of my robe. “Mrs. Sterling, I swear I’ll stay far away from Mr. Sterling. Please, just give me and my mother a chance to survive.” Seeing my face remain completely emotionless, Ethan’s expression hardened. “Chloe, this is too much. Why do you have to bully a poor housekeeper?” Watching the two of them perform their little sob story, I wanted to laugh. “Ethan, you know exactly what dirty laundry you’ve been hiding. Stop treating me like an idiot.” I didn’t want to waste any more words. I threw the divorce papers directly at his face. Right then, the crowd parted, and my mother rushed into the room. Her face was pale with worry as she pushed through the onlookers to get to my bedside. “Chloe! My sweet girl, what on earth is going on? Why are you suddenly talking about divorce?” “Tell me, did Ethan do something to hurt you?” “If you’re hurting, tell me. I’m right here. I won’t let anyone mistreat you.”

Looking into my mother’s worried eyes, my throat tightened. My mom had always spoiled me. Ever since I got pregnant, she had protected me like I was made of glass. She and my dad had a perfect marriage, and she had always assumed Ethan and I were just as happy. Hearing about the divorce was a complete shock to her. I opened my mouth, but the words felt heavy. Seeing my hesitation, Ethan quickly stepped forward. He looked incredibly polite and humble. “Mom, thank god you’re here. Please help me talk to Chloe.” “I think I’ve just been too busy with work lately and haven’t spent enough time with her. She’s upset, and now she’s taking it out on our marriage.” His words immediately painted him as the victim to the crowd outside. “See? What a great guy. He’s taking all the blame.” “Honestly, postpartum depression is real, but threatening divorce every second is just toxic.” “He literally sends flowers and gifts every day. Sure, he’s busy, but his heart is in the right place. What else does she want?” My mother listened to the murmurs, then looked at Ethan’s seemingly sincere face. Her brow furrowed slightly. But she still turned to me gently. “Chloe, I know you wouldn’t make a scene for no reason. What is it really?” As she spoke, her eyes drifted to Bertha, who was trying to shrink her massive body into the corner of the room. Seeing Bertha’s plain, overweight appearance, a flash of confusion crossed my mother’s eyes. “Ethan replaced your old maid with someone… so plain, just to make sure you felt secure,” my mother said carefully, choosing her words. “If he went to those lengths… Chloe, are you sure you aren’t just feeling lonely because he’s been working so much?” “No, Mom,” I said, lifting my head. My voice was quiet but steady. “It’s not because he’s busy. I am divorcing him. And nothing will change my mind.” “Babe!” Ethan’s eyes welled with tears. “What did I do wrong? Just tell me and I’ll fix it! I swear I’ll fix it!” “I can put the company on hold. I’ll stay here with you and the baby every day, okay?” “Our daughter is so small. She needs a father. Please don’t talk about divorce anymore.” Hearing him mention our daughter, my eyes involuntarily drifted to the bassinet where my baby girl was sleeping peacefully. Bertha chimed in again, “Mrs. Sterling, this is all my fault! If you really can’t stand the sight of me, I’ll leave!” “I’ll sell my own blood to pay for my mom’s dialysis! I can’t let you and Mr. Sterling divorce because of me!” That comment was the final straw for the crowd outside. “Are you kidding me? She’s literally forcing this poor girl to sell her blood!” “She is heartless! That poor housekeeper!” People in the hallway started openly criticizing me, their voices rising. The whole scene was so absurd it was almost comical. Any remaining doubt in my heart vanished completely. I pushed the divorce papers closer to Ethan. “Ethan, if you want to play the saint and charity case for her and her sick mother, go ahead. It has nothing to do with me.” “Sign the papers, and you can play hero all you want. I won’t care.” “But I’ve changed my mind. I’m not just taking our daughter. I’m stripping you of every single asset. You are leaving with nothing.”

The words “leaving with nothing” sent a shockwave through the room. Ethan’s face twisted. “Chloe Vance, do you even hear yourself?” I looked at him, completely calm. “You heard me. I want you to leave with absolutely nothing.” “Are you out of your mind?!” he hissed under his breath. “I built this company with my own blood, sweat, and tears! On what grounds are you demanding my assets? Because of your baseless, paranoid accusations?!” “Your blood, sweat, and tears?” I repeated softly. “Ethan, did you forget where the seed money and the core technology for the company came from?” “Did you forget how many times I had to bail you out of your own messes?” I stared him down. “Last year, when your terrible decision-making caused a massive cash flow crisis, who was the one who used her family connections to secure the emergency funding that saved us?” “And now you think you own it all?” I let out a cold chuckle. “How do you sleep at night, using my family’s resources while gaslighting me like I’m an idiot?” “I have never lied to you!” Ethan defended himself passionately. “Chloe, you can’t just make things up because you’re in a bad mood! You need proof!” “Proof?” I looked at him and smirked. “Don’t worry. I have all the proof I need. It’s coming.” “Right now, I just want to see your attitude. Are you going to sign, or not?” My mother looked between the two of us, torn. “Chloe, sweetie, please tell me what’s actually going on. You can’t just get a divorce over a misunderstanding.” “But if you’re saying it’s because of the housekeeper… surely there’s a mistake?” Ethan immediately seized on my mother’s doubt. “Mom! Exactly! Think about it!” “Why would I ever do anything with her? What could I possibly gain from that?” He pointed at Bertha, his voice dripping with insulted pride. “Yes, I admit I’ve been busy and haven’t been home much. But she can’t just slander me like this!” Beside him, Bertha kept her head down, looking like a trembling, innocent victim. “Fine!” I finally spoke. The room fell dead silent. Everyone stared at me. “Since you all want a reason so badly, and since you’re forcing me to drag this trash into the light…” I took a deep breath, speaking clearly so everyone could hear: “I’ll tell you exactly why I am divorcing this man!”

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Ethan had just sent me a Snapchat when the new intern handed me a wedding invitation. “Working late tonight. Ordered takeout for you.” As I opened the envelope, I wondered which coworker was rich enough to use heavy gold foil. But my heart stopped when I saw the names on the card. *The wedding of Mr. Ethan Vance & Miss Tiffany Sterling.* The venue was The Skyline Penthouse, the most expensive rooftop restaurant in the city. Just last week, for my birthday, he told me that place was too gaudy and overpriced. He said we should just order takeout and watch Netflix at home instead. I snapped a photo of the invitation and sent it to Ethan. “So you’re getting married. Why am I just finding out?” He called back almost instantly. “It’s just someone with the same name, Chloe. Are you worried I’d get married behind your back?” Ethan’s laugh sounded forced, laced with a nervous cheerfulness. “Not at all.” I leaned back in my chair, matching his casual tone. “Just a friendly reminder. If you ever dare to get married without me, I’ll walk down that aisle and list every single dollar you owe me in front of all your guests.” “Don’t talk crazy,” his voice dropped, turning serious. “You’re the only one I’ll ever marry. Once this partnership goes through, we’ll get our marriage license. Don’t overthink it, babe. Eat your dinner.” The moment I hung up, my smile vanished. Sienna, the executive assistant, glanced at the invitation in my hand and whispered. “Chloe, isn’t that Tiffany? She was bragging last week about how amazing her boyfriend is. She said he bought her a luxury condo downtown, and she even mentioned she knew you.” My mind flashed through Tiffany’s three months at our company. As an intern who dropped in out of nowhere, she never lacked designer bags or limited-edition jewelry. During our last team dinner, she held up her phone to show everyone a matching couple’s bracelet. “My boyfriend picked it. He said this simple style suits me best.” It was the exact same bracelet Ethan had bought me for his birthday last year. The one he later claimed he “accidentally lost.” Over the past six months, his “late-night meetings” had become more frequent. Every time I brought up marriage, he would brush it off, claiming the company was just starting up. So, he was keeping a side piece. With a cold smile, I called the Skyline Penthouse booking line. After giving the receptionist Ethan’s name and phone number, she replied politely. “Yes, Ms. Vance has booked the main hall for tomorrow afternoon for a wedding ceremony. Would you like to modify the reservation details?” I froze for a few seconds before hanging up. A sharp, piercing pain stabbed at my chest. Ethan and I had been dating for three years and living together for five. He had never paid a single cent of rent or utilities, racking up a total of $35,000 in unpaid bills. He always said he was too busy with work. He promised that when we bought a house, he would put my name on the deed. It was all a lie. I took a pen and wrote on the back of the wedding invitation, stroke by stroke. “Wedding Gift: $35,000 in unpaid rent and utilities owed by Ethan Vance. Please collect on his behalf, Tiffany.” Once done, I stood up and walked to the breakroom. Tiffany was drinking coffee and chatting with a colleague, a sweet, smug smile plastered on her face. I walked over and slammed the invitation onto the table in front of her. “Tiffany, congratulations on your upcoming wedding.” “Please accept this wedding gift. After all, you’re about to own half his debts anyway.” The smile on Tiffany’s face froze. She looked at me, completely bewildered. “Chloe, what is this supposed to mean?” “Nothing much.” I looked her straight in the eyes. “Just letting you know that the man you’re marrying, Ethan, is my boyfriend.” “Liar!” Tiffany’s face flushed red, and tears welled up in her eyes. “Ethan said he knew you, but you’re just casual acquaintances!” “Casual acquaintances?” I laughed, pulling up my phone to show her a photo of Ethan and me. It was taken at the beach last summer. He had his arm wrapped tightly around my shoulder, smiling warmly. I said slowly, “We’ve lived together for five years. When he started his company, I borrowed $50,000 from my Aunt Sarah to fund him. When his first venture failed, I co-signed his $800,000 business debt.” “Tiffany, do you really think ‘casual acquaintances’ do that?” The surrounding colleagues immediately turned to stare, whispering. Tiffany couldn’t hold back her tears. She grabbed the invitation and ran out of the office, sobbing. Less than ten minutes later, my phone rang. It was Ethan. His voice was dripping with fury. “Chloe! What the hell did you say to Tiffany? She’s crying and threatening to call off the wedding! Our entire partnership with Sterling Group is about to blow up!” I let out a soft laugh. “Ethan, instead of asking what I said to her, why don’t you ask yourself if you’re the one marrying her tomorrow?”

The line went silent for a few seconds before Ethan’s voice returned, suddenly sounding pathetic and desperate. “Chloe, the wedding with Tiffany is just a business arrangement. The Sterling Group has a strict policy that only married executives can lead this new project. I’m doing all of this for our future! Once I get my share of the project dividends, I’ll divorce her. Then, I’ll buy us a mansion and give you the grandest wedding ever, okay?” “A business arrangement?” I couldn’t believe he was still trying to feed me this garbage. I shut him down instantly. “So the downtown condo you bought her with corporate funds is a business arrangement? The $5,000 monthly allowance you wire her is also part of the contract?” “Ethan, do you think I’m an idiot?” I was practically shouting, my chest heaving with rage. “How… how do you know about that?” His voice panicked. “Chloe, listen to me, those were just…” “Save it.” I cut him off coldly. “I only have one question. When are you paying back the $35,000 you owe me for rent, and when are you releasing me from the $800,000 debt I co-signed?” Hearing me mention money, Ethan’s tone turned vicious. “Chloe, don’t push it! It’s just a few thousand bucks! Are you really going to ruin my entire career over this?” “I’m warning you, go apologize to Tiffany right now, or don’t blame me for what happens next!” He slammed the phone down, not even giving me a chance to fire back. I opened my bottom drawer and pulled out the yellowed debt-guarantee agreement. Three years ago, Ethan had literally dropped to his knees, begging me with teary eyes to co-sign that loan. He said he would marry me once the company succeeded. He said he would never let me suffer. He said our future would be beautiful. But I was never in his future. I was just a tool—someone whose trust and credit he could exploit to fund his lifestyle and charm another woman. I took a photo of the agreement and drafted a text message. “Ethan Vance’s co-signed debt of $800,000, plus $120,000 in accumulated interest, totaling $920,000. Please sign as a co-debtor, Tiffany.” I attached a voice clip of him begging me to sign the papers three years ago and sent it to Tiffany. “Congratulations, Tiffany. The moment you sign that marriage certificate, half of his debt becomes yours.” I don’t know how much time passed before my office door was slammed open. “Chloe! What the hell is wrong with you?” Ethan marched in, his eyes bloodshot, completely stripped of his usual polished demeanor. “Tiffany is locked in her room crying, trying to cancel the wedding! Mr. Sterling has put the entire project on hold! Are you trying to ruin everyone?” I looked up at him, my eyes devoid of any emotion. “Everyone? Do you mean you, or Tiffany?” He choked on his words, his tone suddenly softening. “That money… Aunt Sarah said I could pay her back slowly…” “Oh, slowly?” I let out a sarcastic laugh. “So you’re slowly paying back my aunt, while using company funds to buy Tiffany a luxury condo downtown? Ethan, how many years in federal prison do you get for embezzlement again?” Ethan’s voice dropped, trembling. “What do you want?” “Two choices.” My voice was dead calm. “First, wire the $920,000 into my aunt’s account before the wedding tomorrow, and I’ll keep my mouth shut. Second, I walk into that wedding venue with all the evidence and hand it to every single guest, especially the bank executives Tiffany’s dad invited.” “How would you even get my financial records!” “Did you forget?” I whispered softly. “Your company’s online banking is tied to my phone number. I receive a text alert for every single suspicious transaction.” Realization dawned on Ethan. He tried one last desperate attempt to gaslight me. “Chloe, we’ve been together for five years. Are you really this heartless? You want to destroy me?” I looked at him blankly. “You did this to yourself.” In the end, Ethan left the office, his face pale as a ghost.

After he left, Sienna placed a hot coffee on my desk. “Chloe, if you want to cry, just cry.” “I’m fine.” I smiled at her. “By the way, you interned in the commercial lending department before, right?” She blinked, nodding. “Do me a favor.” I unlocked my phone and pulled up the public financing announcement for Tiffany’s father’s company, Sterling Group. “Look up the status of their latest loan application. Keep it quiet. Don’t leave a paper trail.” Sienna’s eyes widened, but she nodded quickly. “Got it. I’m on it.” By 9 PM, I received the preliminary audit report for Sterling Group’s latest $30 million bank loan. The status was *Pending Approval*. And one of the key guarantors listed was none other than Ethan Vance. Of course. The only reason Ethan had climbed onto the Sterling family tree was to secure this massive loan. His ambition was terrifying. I kept digging into Ethan’s projects over the past few years. I discovered he had used his executive position to pocket kickbacks and funnel corporate money. During the five years I thought he was working hard for us, he had rotted to the core. At 11 PM, Ethan sent two threatening texts. “The money will be wired first thing tomorrow. Don’t do anything stupid.” “If Tiffany finds out about this debt, she’ll die!” I scoffed. “Whether she lives or dies is none of my business. I just want my money.” Before midnight, Aunt Sarah texted me confirming she had received the full wire transfer. She asked how Ethan and I were doing, and if we were finally getting married. I gave her a brief, bitter reply, and then got ready for my grand entrance at the Skyline Penthouse. The wedding march was reaching its climax when I walked in. Ethan and Tiffany were standing under a lush arch of white roses, exchanging rings. The officiant spoke into the microphone. “Tiffany Sterling, do you take Ethan Vance to be your husband, in sickness and in health, for richer or for poorer…” “Objection.” My voice, projected through a Bluetooth microphone I brought, echoed loudly across the ballroom. “Maybe you should ask her if she’s willing to marry a man who is $920,000 in debt, has embezzled $3 million from his own firm, and is currently under investigation by federal auditors.” Every single guest gasped and whipped their heads around. The color drained from Ethan’s face. Tiffany’s eyes widened in sheer horror. I walked up the aisle, straight onto the stage, and took the microphone from the stunned officiant. “Before you answer that, Tiffany, you might want to listen to this.” I raised my phone and hit play. Ethan’s voice, talking to his accountant, blasted through the speakers. “Chloe is carrying that $800,000 debt. She won’t say anything. Once the Sterling loan is approved, I’ll use the cash to plug the company’s holes. No one will ever know…” Tiffany turned to Ethan, her white gown shaking as she trembled. I looked down at Mr. Sterling, whose face had turned a deep shade of crimson. “Ethan used my credit to guarantee his personal debts, and he planned to use your company’s loan to cover up his financial crimes.” Before anyone could speak, I played the second audio clip—the recording from last night. “I’ll clean up the $3 million embezzlement for the condo after the wedding. Just don’t expose me at the venue, and I’ll pay you off.” The crowd erupted into whispers and shouting. Mr. Sterling slammed his hands on the table and stood up, pointing a shaking finger at me. “Who are you! Stop spreading lies at my daughter’s wedding!” I smiled warmly. “I am Ethan’s actual girlfriend of five years. I’m also the co-signer of his massive debt, and the whistleblower who just submitted all the embezzlement evidence to the authorities. The forensic team should be at his office right now.” As if on cue, Mr. Sterling’s phone started ringing off the hook. The caller’s voice was loud enough for those nearby to hear. I caught words like *loan suspended*, *emergency audit*, and *fraud investigation*. Ethan lunged forward to grab my microphone, but two security guards—whom I had tipped off beforehand about a potential disruption—tackled him to the ground. “Chloe! You bitch! You ruined me!” he screamed, pinning his face against the polished floor. I looked down at him. “You ruined yourself.” “The moment you made me sign that debt agreement and went to sleep with another woman, you should have expected this day.” I turned to Tiffany. She had collapsed into the arms of her bridesmaids, her expensive makeup ruined by tears. “Tiffany, now you can answer the officiant.” “Tell him if you still want to marry Ethan.”

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Five years ago, to save Julian Vance from a raging fire, my head was struck by a falling wooden beam. When I finally woke up in the hospital, a hideous scar stretched across my face, and my hearing was completely gone. With tears in his eyes, Julian took my hand and slowly traced a promise onto my palm, letter by letter: “I will love you forever.” From that day on, Julian became my ears. On my twenty-fourth birthday, he proposed to me in front of all our friends and family. Everyone whispered behind his back, wondering why a brilliant, rising star in the medical field would want to marry a disfigured, deaf girl. But Julian never seemed to care about my scars. He was always patient, gently guiding me through my slow, awkward attempts to communicate. Until a new intern arrived at his hospital. Julian started working late. His night shifts doubled. And for the first time, he avoided looking at my face. “I’m sorry, Iris,” he whispered one night, his eyes darting away. “Your scars… they look like writhing monsters. They terrify me.” I read his lips perfectly. To make things easier for him, I voluntarily agreed to move to a rehabilitation clinic in the suburbs. But fate was cruel. Shortly after I arrived, the clinic’s outdated wiring sparked a massive electrical fire. Trapped in the thick, black smoke, my last memory was seeing a panicked figure rushing into the flames. But when I opened my eyes again, I was back. Back to the exact day Julian proposed to me.

The stinging scent of smoke still lingered in my nose, and my throat burned. But as my vision cleared, I didn’t see the ceiling of the rehabilitation clinic. Instead, I was looking directly into Julian’s deeply affectionate eyes. He was wearing a tailored white suit, kneeling on one knee, holding a sparkling diamond ring. I looked around at the cheering crowd of friends and family, and then at the birthday cake on the table. I realized, with a jolt, that I had traveled back in time. Back to the exact moment he proposed. Julian took my hand, his fingers warm, and slowly traced the words onto my palm: “Iris, marry me. Let me be your ears forever. Let me take care of you.” The sensation on my skin was so warm it made my heart ache. In my past life, I had replayed this moment a thousand times in my head. On those cold, lonely nights when he ignored me, I used the memory of this warmth to keep myself going. But now, that same touch felt like boiling oil, scorching my skin. A flash of confusion crossed Julian’s eyes. Seeing that I wasn’t reacting the way he expected, he grew anxious. He leaned closer, exaggerating his lip movements so I could read them, and silently mouthed, “Iris, I love you.” I understood him perfectly. The room fell silent. Everyone was waiting for my answer. “Forever?” What a joke. Five years was all it took for everything to fall apart. In my past life, I had nodded frantically, throwing myself into his arms with tears streaming down my face. Only to end up in a years-long nightmare. A nightmare that ended with his averted eyes and his cruel admission of fear. I looked into his eyes. Once, they were filled with genuine pain and guilt for what had happened to me. Now, I could see right through the carefully masked devotion. That was it. Right now, his guilt far outweighed his love. That guilt had crushed him, and ultimately, it had killed me. I didn’t say a word. I just slowly, deliberately, pulled my hand away. The smile on Julian’s face froze. A collective gasp and a wave of whispers rippled through the crowd. “Iris?” He mouthed my name, his eyes wide with shock and confusion. I shook my head. I pointed to my ears, then to my heart. Then, I forced myself to speak. “I’m sorry, Julian.” “But I can hear you.” This was the first time I had spoken in front of so many people since I lost my hearing. I hadn’t spoken in years. Because I couldn’t hear my own voice, I couldn’t control my volume, and I was terrified of being laughed at. Julian had always told me that as long as he was around, I didn’t need to struggle to speak. He promised to be my voice. But now, I didn’t want him to be. The room became dead silent. Everyone knew I was deaf. For a deaf girl to suddenly say she could “hear” sounded like a bad joke. But Julian understood what I meant. The color drained from his face. “I can hear the voice in my heart,” I said, my words slow, quiet, but incredibly clear. “It says I shouldn’t chain you to me out of guilt.” “Let’s call this off.”

Julian stood frozen, as if he couldn’t process my words. Or rather, he refused to. He reached out again, trying to grab my wrist, but I lightly stepped back, avoiding his touch. The whispers around us grew louder. “What did she just say? She can hear?” “How is that possible? Hasn’t she been deaf for years?” “Did Julian pressure her too hard? Is she having a breakdown?” Julian’s mother, Eleanor Vance, stepped forward, her brow furrowed. She looked down at me with her usual haughty condescension. “Iris, stop throwing a tantrum. Julian is being completely sincere. With your condition, marrying a man like Julian is a miracle. You should be grateful.” In everyone’s eyes, a disfigured, deaf girl marrying a brilliant doctor like Julian Vance was like winning the lottery. If this were my past life, I would have lowered my head in shame and meekly accepted their “charity.” But now, I just looked at her and said, “I’m not throwing a tantrum.” “I just don’t want to marry him anymore.” Julian snapped his head up, his eyes instantly turning red. He snatched the microphone from the coordinator’s hand. Even though he knew I couldn’t hear him, he screamed into it, his voice shaking. “Iris! I know what you’re worried about! I swear, I will never abandon you!” “I don’t care about your face! I don’t care about your ears!” “Let me take care of you! I owe you my life!” He practically roared that last sentence. The entire venue fell dead silent. “You owe me…” I softly repeated the words, a bitter smile tugging at my lips. Yes, he owed me. For five years, he tried to pay that debt day after day. He did it so carefully, so exhaustingly. Until eventually, even looking at my face took more courage than he had. I raised my hand, my fingertips tracing the uneven, jagged scar on my left cheek. Julian’s gaze followed my fingers. His eyes were a chaotic mess of pity, guilt… and a tiny, almost imperceptible flinch of disgust. I knew exactly what he was thinking. He was thinking of Chloe Bennett, the new intern. He was thinking of her flawless, smooth skin. Her bright, sweet voice. He was thinking of the way she looked at him—with pure, unadulterated admiration, free of any burden or guilt. In my past life, it was Chloe’s arrival that made Julian come home later and later. She was the reason his pity turned into terror. I remembered the time Chloe came to our apartment to help Julian retrieve some medical files. When she saw me, a flash of shock crossed her face, quickly replaced by a patronizing pity. “You must be Iris,” she had said. I couldn’t hear her, but I read her lips. “Julian talks about you all the time. He says you’re so brave.” She offered her hand. Because I was focusing so hard on her lips, my reaction was delayed by a few seconds. Her hand hung in the air, and she pulled it back with an awkward, fake chuckle. Julian quickly tried to smooth things over, signing to me: “Chloe says you are very brave.” I just nodded. Chloe looked at my face, let out a soft sigh, and whispered something to Julian. Julian’s expression stiffened. He avoided my eyes and mumbled a response. But I had read Chloe’s lips. She had said, “What a shame…” What was a shame? My ruined face? Or was it a shame that Julian, a man with such a bright future, was shackled to a broken woman like me? In that moment, I saw the flash of agreement in Julian’s eyes. From that day on, he rarely brought colleagues home. And he stopped looking at my face. “Julian,” I said, making sure my lip movements were clear. “You don’t owe me anything anymore.” “I ran into that fire of my own free will.” “Getting hurt was my own choice.” “You don’t need to spend the rest of your life paying me back.” Without waiting for his response, I turned my back on his pale face, pushed through the crowd, and walked out. Behind me, I could hear Julian’s choked-up cries and his mother’s sharp voice trying to stop him. I didn’t look back. I reached up and touched my cheek. It was wet and cold. I was crying after all. I cried for the Julian who had once treated me like his entire world. And I cried for the old me, who had loved him so much she died for him.

I moved back into the tiny studio apartment I had owned before the accident. The day after I moved in, the flashing light of my doorbell signaled someone was outside. Looking through the peephole, I saw Chloe Bennett. I hesitated for a moment before opening the door. The moment she saw me, she flashed a bright, apologetic smile. Holding up a beautifully wrapped fruit basket, she mouthe d, “Iris, honey. Sorry to drop by unannounced. I just wanted to check on you.” I stepped aside to let her in. The apartment was tiny. You could see everything in one glance. Chloe looked around with curiosity. Her eyes swept over my cheap, simple furniture before landing back on me. “Iris, sweetie, are you sure you’re okay living here all by yourself?” she asked, using slow, clumsy hand gestures. “I’m fine,” I replied shortly. “Sigh. Iris, I heard about what happened at the party yesterday.” Chloe leaned forward, her face dripping with pity. “Honestly, I get it. Anyone in your position would feel insecure.” “It’s completely natural to feel like you aren’t good enough for Julian, and that you’re just dragging him down.” She paused, watching my reaction. Seeing my silence, she continued signing: “But leaving him like that… it’s destroying him. He’s taking it so hard.” “He’s a good guy. He feels so responsible for what happened to you. He can’t let it go.” “By rejecting him like this, you’re just making him feel more guilty. He’s suffering.” Her words, delivered through her clumsy signing, felt like a slap in the face. She was reminding me that Julian and I started with a tragedy, and we would always be trapped by it. “So?” I looked up, staring straight at her. “What’s your point?” Chloe didn’t expect me to challenge her. She blinked, then quickly forced a sweet, “caring” smile. “So… I think if you really love Julian, you should make a clean break.” “A clean break?” I repeated. “Yes,” Chloe smiled, her tone dripping with venomous sweetness. “Like… leaving the city? Or maybe telling everyone you found someone else, so he doesn’t feel guilty anymore.” “That way, Julian can finally move on and start a new life.” She let her eyes linger on my scarred face, her implication loud and clear. “Start a new life? With you?” A dull, heavy ache throbbed in my chest. I grabbed a notepad and pen from the table, quickly scribbled a line, and shoved it in front of her. [My life is none of your business, Chloe. Get out.] Then, I pointed to the door. Chloe’s fake smile faltered. Her face flushed with embarrassment. But she didn’t argue. She grabbed her designer purse and walked out. I sank onto the couch, exhausted. But this time, I didn’t shed a single tear. Over the next few weeks, Julian tried to contact me. First, I found a stack of sticky notes slipped under my door. They were filled with apologies for Chloe’s behavior. I ignored them. Next, he showed up with a jacket I had left at the hotel and a bottle of nerve pain medication. He waited outside my door for an entire day until I finally had to go out. The third time, he was drunk. He banged on my door, sobbing and apologizing over and over. I couldn’t hear him, but my neighbors sent me a dozen angry texts on Snapchat. I had no choice but to open the door and drag him inside. He collapsed onto my sofa, his eyes bloodshot and unfocused. He reached up, trying to touch my face, but I flinched away. His hand froze in mid-air, then fell limply to his side. “Iris…” he whimpered. “Why… why did you throw me away?” “I didn’t throw you away,” I whispered, knowing he was too drunk to hear me. It was more for myself than him. “We just can’t do this anymore.” Our gratitude was too heavy, and it crushed our love. Our guilt was too deep, and it poisoned our hearts. He passed out shortly after. I sat beside him, watching his sleeping face. He was still incredibly handsome, but he looked so tired. I took out my notepad and wrote: [Julian, we are over.] [Live your life. You don’t owe me anything.] [Please don’t come back.] I left the note on the table, grabbed my keys, and quietly shut the door behind me. He deserved a bright, successful life. One without the heavy burden of me.

I walked aimlessly down the streets. Since I lost my hearing, the world had become completely silent. At first, it drove me crazy. But now, it felt safe. At least in the silence, I couldn’t hear the pitying whispers or the cruel comments. As I passed a music store, a vintage piano in the window caught my eye. I suddenly remembered that before the fire, I used to play. My mother always told me my fingers were made for the keys. But after the accident, those same fingers were only used for clumsy sign language. Or to feel Julian’s promises traced on my palm. I pushed the door open and walked in. The owner, a kind, middle-aged man, smiled and walked over to me. He started speaking, but I pointed to my ears and shook my head. He understood instantly. Smiling warmly, he handed me a notepad and a pen. [Want to try it out?] he wrote. I pointed to the vintage piano. [Go ahead. Give it a play,] he encouraged. I sat down at the piano, placing my fingers on the cool keys. It felt so familiar. I pressed a key. Silence. At least, to my ears. But I could feel the vibration ripple through my fingertips, sending a sweet shiver up my arm. I began to play. It was the opening of Beethoven’s “Pathétique Sonata”, Second Movement. Before the fire, it was my favorite piece. Gentle, yet incredibly resilient. Now, I could only play it through memory and the physical vibration of the keys. The owner stood nearby, quietly watching me. When I finished, even though I couldn’t hear a thing, I saw him clapping enthusiastically. He quickly wrote on the pad: [That was beautiful. You play with so much soul.] I smiled, feeling a bit embarrassed. “Can a deaf person really play with soul?” Maybe Beethoven could, but I was no genius. [Thank you,] I wrote back, standing up to leave. But the owner stopped me. He wrote: [Would you like a job here? Just light cleaning, organizing sheet music, and playing for customers who want to hear the instruments?] I stared at the note, stunned. [I can tell you love music,] he added. [And it’s very quiet here. I think you’d like it.] Looking into his kind, honest eyes, something inside me stirred. Maybe… just maybe, I could start over. On my own. I took the job. My new life at the shop was simple and peaceful. I cleaned, organized, and helped customers. Even though I couldn’t hear the tones of the pianos, I memorized the unique characteristics of every model. The owner, Arthur Hayes, was incredibly patient. He never treated me differently because of my scars or my deafness. He only praised my hard work. In my free time, I sat at the vintage piano and practiced. My ears were broken, but my muscle memory was perfect. Arthur told me that watching me play was a joy. [Your fingers are dancing,] he wrote one day. I was genuinely happy. I loved the scent of wood polish in the air, and the solid, grounding feel of the piano keys. Until the day Julian found me. He stood in the doorway, the sunlight casting a long, thin shadow behind him. He had lost a lot of weight. Seeing me at the piano, his eyes filled with a complicated mix of emotions. Arthur looked between us, got the message, and quietly slipped into the back room. Julian walked over and stood by the piano. He reached out to touch my shoulder, but hesitated and pulled his hand back. “Iris,” his lips formed my name. I looked up, completely calm. [I’ve been looking for you everywhere,] he wrote on my notepad. His handwriting was messy and rushed. “Okay,” I nodded. [Are you… doing well here?] “Very well.” He fell silent, his eyes scanning my face. This time, he didn’t look away, but I could see the painful struggle in his eyes. [There is nothing going on between me and Chloe,] he wrote quickly, as if desperate to convince me. [She’s just a colleague.] Looking at him, I felt a sudden urge to laugh. “What does it matter now?” Even if it wasn’t Chloe, it would have been someone else eventually. The problem was never Chloe. The problem was the crushing weight of his guilt, and the pressure of a duty he never really wanted. The problem was my face—a face even I was afraid to look at. I took the pen and wrote: [Julian, we broke up. Who you spend your time with is none of my business.] He stared at the words, his eyes turning red. [But I can’t let you go!] He snatched the pen, writing so hard he nearly ripped the paper. [I tried! I go to work, I perform surgeries, I try to block you out!] [But every time I close my eyes, all I see is you pushing me out of that fire! I see you lying in that hospital bed!] [Iris, I owe you my life! How do you expect me to just move on?!] And there it was. We were right back where we started. Debt. Guilt. He was trapped in a cage of his own making, and I was his only way to earn forgiveness. Now that I had walked away, he was completely lost. I sighed, took the pen, and wrote slowly: [You never owed me a life, Julian.] [I saved you because, in that moment, I wanted you to live.] [That’s all.] [If my sacrifice only brings you pain, then I take it back.] [You are free, Julian.] [And so am I.] My hand shook slightly as I finished writing, but my heart was incredibly light. Julian stared at the page as if all the strength had been drained from his body. He stumbled back a step. He looked at me with a deep, agonizing pain that I no longer cared to understand. Without another word, he turned and walked out of the shop. The glass door swung shut, the wind chimes moving in silence.

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On the eve of senior prom, an anonymous source sent me a screenshot of the varsity football team’s Snapchat group chat. In the chat, my online boyfriend, Blake, had shared a screenshot of an Amazon delivery confirmation. “I just bought a 7XL pink ruffle dress for that fat girl who only dares to voice-chat with me on Discord.” “The dress is as big as a hot air balloon. She’s going to look like a literal clown in it.” One of his teammates chimed in: “Damn, Blake, that’s savage. I bet she’ll have a mental breakdown the second she sees it and won’t even dare to step foot inside the prom venue.” Blake then sent a voice note, with the loud, mocking laughter of several guys echoing in the background: “If she actually shows up, I’m going to film her walking the red carpet and post it on TikTok. That video is guaranteed to hit a million views.” I stared at the screen, then casually tossed the package containing the cheap, tacky pink mesh dress straight into the trash can. A year ago, because of severe obesity and the endless health and social problems that came with it, I had taken a medical leave of absence from school. Shortly after, I met Blake online. He was the reason I started my weight-loss journey. For him, I woke up at five every morning to run. Combined with a strict, healthy diet, I managed to lose eighty pounds. I looked in the mirror at my new face—the baby fat was completely gone, leaving behind sharp, striking, and cold features. I unlocked my phone and sent Blake a simple smiley face on Snapchat: “Got the dress. See you at prom tomorrow at eight.”

I sat in the back of a black stretch Lincoln limousine. Outside, camera flashes strobed against the dark glass, and loud, pulsing music filled the night air. There were only ten minutes left before the prom red carpet officially opened. The phone resting on my knees vibrated non-stop. Notifications from a Snapchat group chat kept popping up. Initially, this group chat was only for the football players and cheerleaders. But I had used a few connections to get an alt account—posing as a junior varsity cheerleader—to slip in unnoticed. Blake had just posted a picture of himself leaning against the hood of a sleek sports car. He was wearing a sharp tuxedo, his bowtie half-undone. The comments below were overflowing with praise and hype. “Our quarterback is looking hot tonight! Ready to welcome your hot air balloon date?” “I’ve got my GoPro ready. I’m going to capture her rolling down the red carpet in glorious 4K.” Then, Chloe, the varsity cheer captain, sent a voice note. “Come on, guys, don’t talk about Stella like that. She might be on the larger side, but she’s willing to wear pink just for Blake. That shows she really loves him.” “Just don’t laugh too loudly when she gets here. I’d hate for her to run home crying.” Blake replied with a laughing emoji. “Don’t worry. I’ll be a perfect gentleman and escort my pink clown all the way to the door.” I stared coldly at the screen. During my second month away from school, I met Blake in an online game. He thought my gaming skills were amazing, and he loved my voice, calling it incredibly sexy. Soon, he started pursuing me. Later, he found out that I was actually Stella—the “fat girl” everyone whispered about at school. I had been terrified that he would mock me, just like everyone else did. But he didn’t. Instead, he told me: “Stella, they only care about looks and bodies. But I know you have the most beautiful soul.” “In my eyes, you will always be the most gorgeous girl.” I was deeply moved. I gave him my heart. Not only did I study by myself at home to keep up with my senior year classes, but I also acted as his emotional trash can whenever he lost a football game. In the game, he called me “My Queen.” But in reality, he treated me as a twisted trophy to boost his own fragile male ego. “We’re up next, ma’am,” the chauffeur said, opening the door from the outside. The roaring noise of the crowd rushed into the quiet car the moment the door swung open. Students lined both sides of the red carpet, their phones raised to record everything. Blake was standing halfway up the carpet, holding a glass of champagne, leaning in to whisper something to Chloe. The moment my high heels touched the red carpet, the girls nearest to the limo stopped talking. Their hands, holding up their phones, froze in mid-air. I stepped fully out of the car, adjusting my dress. My custom black starry-night gown caught the flashing lights, reflecting subtle, cold glints of starlight. The soft, premium fabric hugged my waist perfectly, and the backless design dipped elegantly down to my lower back. The whispers and chatter along the red carpet seemed to vanish, starting from where I stood and spreading outward. In its place was the frantic clicking of camera shutters. “Who is that? Is she a celebrity? Does she even go to our school?” “That dress… is that the Paris Fashion Week runway piece? I literally just saw it in Vogue last week!” I walked down the red carpet, my gaze cutting straight through the crowd. Hearing the sudden shift in the crowd’s energy behind him, Blake turned around. His eyes locked onto me, and the casual, arrogant smirk instantly drained from his face. The champagne glass in his hand tilted slightly, spilling a few drops onto his leather shoes, but he didn’t even notice.

Blake hurriedly shoved his champagne glass into a teammate’s hand, adjusted his tie, and walked straight toward me. His eyes were filled with pure admiration. We had been in an online relationship for ten months, yet he had never once agreed to a FaceTime call. Instead, relying on school rumors and a few old photos of me from junior year, he had painted a malicious picture of me in his mind. He didn’t recognize me at all. “Hey,” Blake said, stopping right in front of me and blocking my path. He flashed his signature charming smile, his voice smooth and polite. “I’m Blake. I’m pretty sure I’d remember if someone like you went to our school. Whose date are you?” “Or did a movie star accidentally wander into our prom?” I stopped walking but didn’t say a word. “Don’t have a date to walk the carpet with?” Seeing my silence, he took half a step closer, subtly flexing his broad shoulders. “If you don’t mind, I could—” “Blake, that 7XL pink dress you bought me? The fabric was incredibly cheap, and the glitter kept falling off.” “I was worried it would ruin my carpets, so I threw it straight into the trash.” Blake’s smile completely froze. The surrounding crowd, which had been whispering excitedly, went dead silent. Blake’s pupils contracted violently, and the muscles around his eyes twitched uncontrollably. “Stella?” His voice cracked, filled with sheer disbelief. The football players standing behind him dropped their jaws. The guy holding the GoPro shook so hard that the camera slipped from his grip, clattering loudly onto the concrete. “No way… That’s impossible!” Blake instinctively took a step back, his eyes frantically scanning me from my face down to my waist, and then back to my face. “What? Disappointed?” I tilted my chin up, enjoying the sight of his face crumbling. “Sorry you didn’t get to see your hot air balloon. Guess your GoPro won’t be getting those views after all.” Chloe quickly stepped forward at that moment. When she saw me, her sweet, perfect smile wavered. “Stella! Oh my god, you lost so much weight!” She reached out, trying to grab my arm. “If you got this pretty, why didn’t you tell Blake sooner?” “He spent so much time picking out that dress as a surprise for you, you know.” “Keeping it a secret like this… you really embarrassed him.” I brushed her hand off. “Spent a lot of time?” “As in, spending time finding which party city sold the best clown costumes?” “Chloe, since you care so much about his feelings, next time he buys a dress like that, feel free to wear it yourself.” Chloe’s face turned pale. She bit her lower lip and stepped back. Blake finally snapped out of his shock. But his surprise quickly morphed into a strange, obsessive excitement. “Stella.” He suddenly grabbed my wrist. “Let me explain. That was just a joke between the guys, I—” I ripped my hand away from his grip, walked right past him, and headed straight into the main hall.

Inside the venue, colorful laser lights swept across the crowded dance floor. I walked over to the drink station and picked up a glass of sparkling water. Before I could even take a sip, Blake pushed through the crowd, pursuing me. He hadn’t been deterred by what happened on the red carpet. Instead, he had put back on his usual entitled, arrogant attitude. “Stella, there were too many people outside just now. I’ll let that slide,” Blake said, placing one hand on the bar counter, effectively trapping me between himself and the table. “You know I never really cared if you were fat or not. I told you, you were always beautiful to me.” “But now that you’re skinny, it’s even better, isn’t it?” He lowered his voice, his tone dripping with condescension. “The first dance is about to start. Come to the dance floor with me. I’ll overlook the fact that you threw away my dress, and we can call it even.” I turned around, leaning casually against the table. I swirled my sparkling water, looking down at him. “Blake, do you have trouble understanding English, or did you take one too many tackles to the head?” “I didn’t stand here tonight to show off my weight loss to you.” “I threw your trash dress away. And I’m throwing you away, too.” Blake’s expression darkened instantly. His breathing grew heavy, clearly furious that I dared to defy him. “Don’t get cocky,” he sneered. “You think losing some weight means you can just dump me? If I hadn’t spent every night voice-chatting with you, you would have rotted away in your own depression!” “You belong to me—” “She belongs to who?” A cold, calm voice cut Blake off. I looked up and saw Asher standing right behind Blake. He was wearing a perfectly tailored, minimalist black tuxedo. He hadn’t worn a tie, and the top two buttons of his white shirt were casually undone. Unlike Blake, who practically radiated loud insecurity and aggression, Asher carried an aura of quiet, untouchable confidence. As the son of the school board’s chairman and an Ivy League-bound genius, Asher held absolute influence at this school. When Blake saw Asher, his brow furrowed into a tight knot. “Asher, this is a private matter between me and my girlfriend. Stay out of it.” “Ex-girlfriend,” I corrected him. Asher ignored Blake’s warning entirely. He stepped past him and stood in front of me. He looked down, his calm gaze resting on my face. There wasn’t a single hint of surprise in his eyes regarding my transformation. It was as if he had always known I would look like this. “Excuse me,” Asher said, extending his right hand to me, palm up. His posture was flawlessly polite. “May I have the honor of the first dance?” Blake let out a dry, angry laugh. “Asher, do you know the rules? She’s my girl!” Asher turned his head, casting a freezing look at Blake. “Rules?” “She told you to screw off. Did you lose your hearing along with your manners?”

The music transitioned into a slow, elegant waltz. Without a second thought, I placed my hand in Asher’s. His fingers were long and firm, his touch cool and reassuring. He placed his other hand lightly on my waist, guiding me smoothly onto the center of the dance floor. Behind us, the sharp sound of glass shattering echoed through the hall. Without even looking, I knew Blake was throwing a tantrum. On the dance floor, countless eyes were locked onto us. “You don’t seem surprised at all,” I whispered, keeping pace with Asher’s steps. “Surprised by what?” “The way I look now.” Asher paused his step for a fraction of a second, then drew me slightly closer. “I watched you spend three straight months pulling all-nighters in the library to write that physics paper that won the State Championship. I already knew how brilliant you were.” His voice was quiet, but it cut through the music clearly. “Stella, your worth was never defined by a number on a scale.” My heart skipped a beat. Right at that moment, the lights in the entire hall suddenly went out. The music stopped abruptly, followed by a collective gasp from the students. The massive projector screen at the front of the hall flared to life, casting a harsh, blinding white light over the crowd. Tonight, this screen was supposed to play a heartwarming senior year recap video. Instead, a grainy, secretly recorded video began to play. On the screen was the old me, wearing an oversized gray hoodie. My face was heavy, and I was sitting in a fast-food joint, shoving a double cheeseburger into my mouth, grease smeared over my lips. The audio playing over the video was a private Discord call between Blake and me. “Blake… do you think I’m annoying?” my past voice asked, sounding incredibly small and desperate. “If I always do what you say, will you promise to never leave me?” Back then, I had crawled in the dirt just to keep him. Then came Blake’s voice, filled with utter contempt and amusement: “Sure. As long as you remain a good, obedient girl, I might consider taking you out on a real date.” The entire hall fell into a suffocating silence. A spotlight suddenly snapped on, illuminating the second-floor DJ booth. Blake stood there, holding a microphone, looking down at me on the dance floor. “Take a good look, everyone! This is the ‘perfect goddess’ you were all drooling over just a second ago,” Blake’s voice boomed through the speakers, echoing in every corner of the room. “Stella, did you really think that shedding a layer of skin would erase the days when you acted like my dog?” A cruel, twisted grin spread across his face. “Now, crawl up here right now and beg for my forgiveness.”

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My mom is the sole heiress to the colossal Morgan fortune. While she was away on a business trip, my dad orchestrated a scheme. He let his secret illegitimate son, Solomon—whom he’d been hiding for years—steal my project and take credit for my hard work. My dad even introduced him to everyone as the true heir of the Morgan family. At the company’s annual gala, Solomon had his arm wrapped around Shakira, my arranged fiancée. He pulled out a few hundred-dollar bills and slapped them right against my face. “You should be honored I even used your proposal. Don’t be so ungrateful!” My sister, Sara, stood by his side, watching cold-heartedly. “Solomon is so kind. He’s actually paying an intern like you.” “I suggest you know your place. Don’t forget who the real heir is!” In my past life, I cared too much about family. I treated Solomon like a real brother and handed everything over to him on a silver platter. But in the end, they used me until I had nothing left, and then they disposed of me. Reborn and seeing these three for the monsters they really are, I didn’t hesitate. I punched Solomon right in the face in front of everyone, leaving his mouth a bloody mess. “A cheap male escort from a sketchy club thinks he can step on my head?”

Seeing Solomon spit out a bloody tooth, Sara panicked. “Kennedy, have you lost your mind! Touch him again, and I swear Dad will fire you on the spot!” The surrounding employees rushed over to hold me back, shouting at me. “That’s the Chairman’s grandson! The heir to the Morgan Group! You’re just a tiny intern, are you trying to get yourself killed?!” I sneered and shook off their grip. “Since when can a male escort steal my identity?” “Sara, you’ve completely lost your mind over this bastard!” My so-called sister panicked. She slapped me across the face to cut me off. “You must be drunk! What kind of delusion is this? Steal your identity?” “Solomon is my real brother!” Looking at Sara, a cold shiver ran down my spine. I couldn’t believe she could say something so shameless for Solomon’s sake! Sara wasn’t even a blood Morgan. When my mom was pregnant with her second child, she had a miscarriage. Devastated, she adopted a baby girl from an orphanage to raise as her own. Who would have thought we were raising a viper? She lived with the Morgans for twenty years. My mom treated her like a biological daughter, and I loved her like a real sister. But to her, our guidance was nothing but “chains.” She would rather treat an outsider like Solomon as her brother than stand by my side. I touched my stinging cheek and sneered at her. “Sara, you’re getting bolder. You actually have the guts to help Solomon steal my identity.” “When Mom gets back and finds out you let Solomon take my place in the marriage alliance, have you thought about the consequences?” Sara’s face turned pale. She was clearly terrified of my mother’s ruthless business methods. Shakira, who had been watching the drama unfold, frowned and finally spoke. “What do you mean by that? Isn’t Solomon the heir to the Morgan Group?” Hearing this, Solomon immediately put on a show, looking deeply hurt. “My mom always took great care of Kennedy. She said she treated him like her own son.” “I didn’t expect him to actually believe it. Now he hallucinates about being the true heir.” “Shakira, please don’t believe a word he says!” I didn’t explain. I just wanted to see Shakira’s reaction. The Russells were the family my mother chose for my arranged marriage. If the heiress of the Russell family couldn’t even see through a lie this obvious, then this marriage wasn’t worth keeping anyway. Shakira hesitated and looked at Sara. Sara quickly jumped in. “Shakira, do you think I wouldn’t recognize my own brother?” “Don’t forget the sapphire necklace Solomon gave you. That’s the Morgan family heirloom.” “It’s only given to the future daughter-in-law. Do you still doubt Solomon?” Hearing this, I stepped forward and landed another heavy punch on Solomon’s face. “You dared to steal my mom’s necklace!” That necklace had been passed down through generations of the Morgan family. It would never be taken out until the wedding day. Solomon was incredibly bold to steal something like that just to please Shakira! “Enough! Security, drag this lunatic away!” This time, it wasn’t Sara. It was Shakira. She looked at me with pure disgust. She clearly believed Sara’s lies completely. As several security guards pinned me down, a colleague from the office mustered up the courage to speak up for me. “Miss Russell, Kennedy only snapped because Mr. Solomon stole his project. He’s just drunk, it’s understandable.” Shakira sneered. “He’s just an intern at the Morgan Group. It’s his job to serve the family! What’s wrong with taking his project?” “Didn’t Solomon give him a few hundred bucks as compensation? People of your class are just so greedy!” I stared at Shakira, stunned. I didn’t expect the Russell heiress, who always acted sweet and kind in public, to be so repulsive behind closed doors. She and Solomon were birds of a feather! Sara smirked at me triumphantly, hugging Shakira’s arm. “Thank you, Shakira. I knew you would see right through him. He’s just trash!” Looking at Shakira’s arrogant face, I felt sick to my stomach. The Russells were far less powerful than the Morgans. No wonder Shakira threw away her dignity just to cling to the Morgan family. Too bad the guy she was trying so hard to please was a complete fraud! I couldn’t wait to see her face when she realized she married a penniless bastard!

In my past life, when I found out Solomon was my dad’s illegitimate son, I wanted to tell my mom. But I gave up the idea after my dad and Sara begged me on their knees. My dad had cried, kneeling before me. He said Solomon shared half of my blood, and he begged me to treat Solomon like a brother. He confessed that marrying into the Morgan family made him feel emasculated. So, he kept a secret mistress and had an illegitimate child. He had hidden it well for years to keep my mom happy. In the end, my heart softened, and I kept their secret. Before my dad brought Solomon back, Solomon worked at a host club. That was where Sara met him and got hooked. Feeling sorry for Solomon, I was the one who asked my mom to let him intern at the company. I never expected that Solomon wanted far more than just a job! Taking advantage of my mom’s one-year business trip abroad, my dad forced me to hand over my projects to build up Solomon’s resume. He even went behind my back and told the board of directors that Solomon was the true heir of the Morgan family! All of this was to pave the way for Solomon to marry into the wealthy Russell family. In my past life, I let my dad and Sara pull the strings, giving up everything I owned. But I never expected that after stealing my identity, they would orchestrate a car accident to kill me. When my mom rushed back from abroad, the shock and grief caused her heart failure. The entire Morgan fortune fell into their hands. Thinking about my past life, my blood boiled with hatred. This time, I will make all of them pay! Sweeping my gaze across the room, I locked eyes with Scott, the General Manager. My mom had sent me to the company to learn the ropes from the bottom, but to prevent the executives from giving me special treatment, she kept my identity a secret from everyone. Only Scott, her most trusted manager, knew who I really was. I dragged him out of the crowd and demanded loudly, “Scott, you are the person my mom trusts the most.” “Tell everyone right now. Am I the true heir of the Morgan Group?” When I pulled Scott forward, Solomon’s body tensed up. Even Sara’s face flickered with panic. If my mom found out that Solomon was pretending to be me to get married, they would be utterly ruined! Under the watchful eyes of the entire room, Scott frowned and let out a long sigh. “Kennedy, I know Mrs. Kelly thinks highly of you, but you can’t actually believe you’re a Morgan.” “Apologize to Solomon right now! If you keep spreading these lies, I’ll fire you myself!” Solomon and Sara sighed in relief, and the crowd burst into whispers. “I knew Kennedy was out of his mind! He really thought he was a big shot.” “He’s just jealous of Mr. Solomon’s success. A few drinks and he forgets who he is.” “Do you think he has a crush on Miss Shakira? That’s why he’s acting like a psycho.” Hearing the mockery, I stared coldly at Scott. “Do you know what happens to people who betray my mom?” Scott shivered, quickly looking away, too guilty to meet my eyes. I sneered internally. In truth, I already knew he had been bought off by my dad. In my past life, when my mom received the news of my death, she was devastated. Right at that moment, Scott ran to her with fake news—claiming the company was facing a massive scandal, the cash flow was cut off, and partners had fled with the money… My mom couldn’t handle the successive blows, which triggered her fatal heart attack. And all of that was fabricated by Scott under my dad’s orders! I dragged him out today just to force him to expose himself so my mom could see his true colors! Just minutes ago, I had already sent an audio recording of his previous secret meetings to my mom. She would see it very soon. But right now, with Scott’s backing, Solomon became even more arrogant. He kicked me hard in the chest and spat on the floor. “You piece of trash, you think you can fight me? Security! Beat him up and throw him out!” As I tried to stand up, several security guards pinned me down. Just as a fist was about to hit my face, a familiar voice boomed through the hall. “Stop! What do you think you are doing at the company gala?!”

The guards quickly let go of me. My dad rushed over, pulled me up, and whispered angrily in my ear. “Why are you being so difficult? Ruining the gala like this!” “He is your brother, you should have just let him have his way.” “Good thing I got here fast. I would have been so heartbroken if you got hurt!” I watched him put on his act of a loving father. If I hadn’t been reborn, I would never have believed that this very man was the one who planned my murder. I pushed his hand away and said coldly, “What brother? I am the only child of the Morgan family. I don’t have a brother!” “A bastard like him isn’t even fit to step into our house!” Exposed in public, my dad’s face flushed bright red. “You bastard!” He slapped me hard across the face, pointing his finger at my nose. “I came here to help you, and you dare call my son a bastard!” “You’re just an intern, yet you have the nerve to claim you’re a Morgan. You must be tired of living!” Sara quickly chimed in, backing my dad up. “Exactly! Some random lunatic is here throwing a tantrum.” “Claiming he’s the real Morgan heir. What a joke!” “Do you think my dad and I can’t even recognize our own family?” She thought she had all the backing she needed, her voice dripping with venom. I found it hilarious. I looked at her and asked, “Your family? Sara, did you forget you’re just an orphan we brought home from the orphanage?” “If I hadn’t chosen you back then, my mom would never have adopted you!” “Now that you’re grown up, you throw all that gratitude down the drain!” Sara’s face turned white, then red. Her origin was her deepest insecurity. To her, being adopted was a shameful stain on her life. Having it exposed in front of everyone almost made her lose her mind. Shakira couldn’t help but defend Sara. “So what if Sara is adopted? She is recognized by the Morgan family, which makes her a thousand times better than trash like you!” Seeing her defend Sara, I let out a sharp laugh. She probably had no idea that Sara and Solomon were already sleeping together! Back when Solomon worked at the host club, he wasn’t doing anything clean, and those two had spent plenty of nights in bed together. Solomon pointed at me, raising his voice. “Even if Sara is adopted, she is my sister. Who are you to talk down to her?” He was so deep in his acting that he truly believed he was the master of the Morgan family. I slapped his hand away and said coldly, “Because I am the sole heir of the Morgan Group!” “The Morgan family belongs to me and my mother. A parasite who married in and an adopted orphan do not count as Morgans!” “If I want you gone, I can make you kick the curb in a second!” The moment the words left my mouth, my dad lost his mind. He slapped me repeatedly, then kicked me hard in the ribs, screaming, “I knew you were an ungrateful dog!” “I’ve been married to Kelly for years. We are husband and wife. This company is mine too!” “Let me tell you, this company belongs to me, and it will belong to Solomon in the future. You are the one who is going to get kicked out!” Having married into the family, even though he held an executive title, his abilities were nowhere near my mother’s. The whispers of being a “trophy husband” had built up a toxic rage inside him over the years. Now that I had exposed his rawest nerve, his eyes turned bloodshot, and he kicked me several more times. My body throbbed with excruciating pain, and I coughed up a mouthful of blood on the floor. But he didn’t care. Shakira looked at me with disgust and waved her hand. “Get him out of here. He’s an eyesore.” I looked at the smug grins on Solomon and Sara’s faces and said softly, “Have you guys ever wondered what will happen when my mom gets back and finds out what you did?” My dad’s face tensed, but then a ruthless glare flashed in his eyes. “You are completely insane, whispering nonsense!” “Tie him up and throw him into a mental asylum! Don’t let him out until he’s completely cured!” Seeing the murderous look in his eyes, I knew he wanted me dead. Just as I was calculating how to make my escape, the heavy doors of the hall were slammed open. “I’d love to see which one of you dares to send my son to an asylum!”

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I was born highly sensitive. In my family, I was the fragile princess who couldn’t be touched or spoken to without causing a scene. If there was a tiny thread at the bottom of the new socks my mom bought me, I would scream and cry, refusing to wear them no matter how much she begged. If my dad spoke just a little too loudly or frowned, I would instantly think he didn’t love me anymore. My eyes would fill with tears, and I would sob in deep, dramatic agony. Even when we went to the amusement park with my little sister, Maya, I would just hide behind Mom, clutching her hem. No matter how hard Maya pulled my hand, I wouldn’t budge. It all built up until Christmas Eve. Mom had cooked a huge, beautiful dinner. I whispered to her that I wanted steak instead of turkey. Mom, who had always walked on eggshells around my emotions, suddenly snapped. She slammed her new mug onto the floor, shattering it. “Do I owe you my life or something?!” The sudden, violent noise terrified me. My eyes welled up with tears. Mom walked over, poking her finger hard against my forehead, over and over. “Cry, cry, cry. That’s all you ever do! Is this whole table of food not good enough for you?” “Tell me, Christy! What did I ever do to deserve this?” A wave of pure terror washed over me. I wanted to tell Mom that I didn’t want to cry either. I just couldn’t control it. I didn’t need the steak. I would be good. I would eat whatever she wanted. But before I could open my mouth, my tears poured down. My throat tightened so hard that I couldn’t squeeze out a single word. Seeing me like this, Mom eventually sighed and gave in, like she always did. She grabbed Dad and Maya, telling me they were going to the grocery store to get my steak. Half an hour later, our neighbor, Samantha, banged on our door. She told me their car had collided with a semi-truck on the way to the store. All three of them died on the spot. It was my fault. I killed them.

“Christy, just stay inside. The police will be here soon to talk to you,” Samantha said, patting my shoulder with a heavy, sympathetic sigh. “You really need to grow up and be stronger now.” It turned out that when you reach the absolute peak of grief, you can’t actually cry. I stood frozen in the hallway for a long time. I didn’t even notice when Samantha left. I felt so suffocated. My heart was racing. I wanted to throw up. I ran into the bathroom, clutching the toilet, and gagged violently. But nothing came out. I touched my face. It was completely dry. I hadn’t shed a single tear. Mom, look. I learned my lesson. I won’t cry over every little thing anymore. Can you guys come back now? I promise I won’t be so fragile. This had to be a nightmare. I stumbled back into the living room. The dinner Mom had just made was still sitting on the table. I had even covered it with foil to keep it warm for them. I knelt on the floor to pick up the sharp ceramic pieces of the mug Mom had broken. A jagged edge sliced deep into my finger. Blood quickly dripped onto the hardwood floor. I panicked, grabbing a towel to scrub it clean. Mom had just mopped yesterday. I couldn’t leave her house dirty. We were supposed to have a perfect Christmas weekend together when they got back. How did things end up like this? It was you, Christy. It’s because you had to have that steak. That’s why they went out. You are a murderer. They are all dead. Why are you still here? I pushed open my bedroom door, crawled onto the bed, and wrapped myself tightly in my parents’ jackets. I wanted to drown in their familiar scent. I remembered when I was little and too scared to sleep alone. Mom would always laugh, pull me into their bed, and tuck me right between her and Dad. If only I could go back to that time. I would never be a sensitive, difficult child again. I would be bright and outgoing, just like Maya. My body felt colder and colder. Before I lost consciousness, a few blurry thoughts drifted through my mind. Will they come to guide me to the afterlife? Or will they hate me forever? I already know I was wrong. I won’t cry easily anymore. I will share all my toys with Maya. I will smile and say hi to all the neighbors. I will be good. I will let Maya have everything she wants. Just please don’t leave me behind. I can change. I curled myself into a tight, tiny ball on my side, just like I used to do in Mom’s belly.

When I opened my eyes again, the pain in my body was gone. I felt incredibly light. I saw my little self curled up in the nest of my parents’ clothes. My face was paper-white. There was a horrific, jagged cut across my neck. Yet, there was a sweet, peaceful smile on my dead face. So, this is what death feels like. But where were Mom, Dad, and Maya? Why hadn’t they come to get me? Did they still refuse to forgive me for killing them? Anxiety gripped me. Luckily, because I was light as air now, I could easily glide right out of the house. The car accident. Yes, maybe they were still stuck at the crash site. I floated down the snowy streets, following my memory. I passed a family laughing and ice-skating on a frozen pond. I instinctively tried to dodge them, but they ran right through my translucent body. Suddenly, I stopped. Through the fogged-up window of a cozy local diner, I saw them. Under the warm orange lights, Dad and Mom had huge, happy smiles on their faces. Maya sat between them, wearing a bright red bow in her hair, looking like a perfect little doll. Dad kept piling ribs and fries onto Maya’s and Mom’s plates, laughing as he took a sip of his beer. They looked like a normal, perfectly happy family of three celebrating the weekend. Because I couldn’t stand the smell of grease and loud restaurant noises, we had never eaten out at a diner together. Dad had never had a beer in front of me, either. But I knew Maya loved ribs. Thank God. They were okay. I hadn’t killed them. And it turned out that without me, they were actually a happy family. Relieved and content, I floated back home. My physical body was still lying on my parents’ bed. Blood had splattered across the white walls. The clothes and sheets were soaked in deep crimson. Mom loved a clean house. And here I was, making such a horrible mess of her room. I had made Mom angry again. I instinctively tried to grab the blood-stained clothes to put them in the washing machine, but my hands swept through empty air. I stood there, frozen, not knowing what to do. After what felt like hours, the sound of keys jiggling came from the front door. Dad’s hearty laughter echoed through the hall. “I haven’t had a weekend this relaxing in years.” Mom’s voice was filled with a rare, lighthearted joy. “I know. It feels like a massive weight has been lifted.” Then came Maya’s sweet, childish voice. “Mom, can we go get ribs more often?” Mom gently stroked Maya’s hair. “Of course we can, sweetie.” I rushed into the living room. Dad and Mom were busy putting the leftovers into the fridge. Maya was holding a small takeout box, carefully placing it on the coffee table. Their cheeks were flushed pink from the cold, but their faces were glowing with happiness. After cleaning up, the three of them sat on the couch to watch a comedy show. Dad suddenly spoke up, his voice dipping. “Megan… do you think we went too far this time?” The smile on Mom’s face stiffened. She tossed a popcorn kernel into her mouth. “Too far? How?” “We’ve been home for ten minutes and she hasn’t even come out to say hello. She’s probably in there throwing another tantrum.” “You always enable her, David. That’s why she acts out the second things don’t go her way.” “If we don’t teach her a lesson now, who is going to cater to her fragile ego out in the real world?” I floated desperately in front of Mom, crying out to her. “Mom, I know I was wrong! I’m standing right here beside you!” “I’m not throwing a tantrum!” But no matter how loud I screamed or how wildly I waved my hands, there was an invisible wall between us. She couldn’t hear or see me at all. My hands fell to my sides. I sat down quietly in the corner. Just then, Maya slid off the couch. She picked up the small takeout box, walked over to my bedroom door, and knocked gently. “Christy, I brought you the steak you wanted.” Silence. There wasn’t a sound from inside. “Christy, it’s Maya. I’m back!” Maya thought I was just pouting. She called out again in her sweetest, most playful voice. But after waiting a long time with no response, her lower lip trembled. “Christy is ignoring me.” My heart ached for my sweet little sister. “I’m not ignoring you, Maya. I’m right here. I’m right next to you.” Dad walked over, scooped Maya into his arms, and kissed her cheek. “It’s okay, Maya. Let’s get you to bed first. You can give Christy the steak tomorrow, okay?” Though slightly disappointed, Maya still flashed a bright smile. “Okay! Tomorrow, I’ll be the first one to say Happy Weekend to Christy!” “Happy Weekend, Maya,” I whispered softly beside her. After putting Maya to bed, Dad walked back into the living room. “Christy hasn’t come out once. Do you think she’s okay?” “She’s definitely hiding under her covers crying,” Mom sighed, rubbing her temples. “I don’t know where she got this dramatic personality. Any little inconvenience and she turns the whole house upside down.” “If she were even half as easygoing as Maya, I wouldn’t be losing my mind.” It was true. Maya was an angel. Even as a baby, she slept through the night. Unlike me. The second I was left alone, I would scream so hard I gasped for air. A few times, I had cried so violently that I fainted, scaring my parents half to death. As Maya got older, she was the one who looked after me. She would always give me her favorite toys, even if she wanted to play with them. Because I was terrified of other kids, she would always walk in front of me at the park, shielding me from everyone else. Maya was the best sister in the world. And Mom was right. Ever since I was born, I had been nothing but a burden to them. It would have been better if I had never existed. Then, Dad, Mom, and Maya could have been a perfectly happy family every single day—not just on the rare nights they lied to get away from me. Tears cascaded down my cheeks. I touched my face, realizing for the first time that ghosts could cry too. Dad, Mom, I’m so sorry. I caused you guys so much trouble. I knelt beside them, apologizing over and over, but they could no longer hear me.

When the TV show ended, Dad couldn’t help himself. He picked up the takeout box and walked toward my room. “Christy hasn’t eaten since noon. She must be starving.” “Don’t you dare go in there!” Mom snapped, grabbing his arm and snatching the box. She threw it straight into the trash can. “Every time she throws a fit, you run to comfort her.” “Is she the only one allowed to have feelings? We work our fingers to the bone every single day, and we have to come home and walk on eggshells around our ‘fragile princess’?” “So I yelled at her a little. So what? Parents always know what’s best. If she weren’t my daughter, I wouldn’t even waste my breath on her.” Mom’s sharp words echoed through the quiet house. I knew she was saying them loud enough for me to hear through the door. That familiar, suffocating anxiety gripped my chest again. Even though my heart had stopped beating, a profound sense of shame made my throat tight. I’m sorry, Mom. I’m sorry, Dad. I’m sorry I was such a shameful daughter. I squatted helplessly next to the trash can. I thought that if I could just learn to control my emotions, maybe my parents wouldn’t be so exhausted anymore. But looking at the steak slowly growing cold in the trash, a sharp pain pierced my soul. Why did my soul still hurt so badly? It’s okay… now that I’m gone, they will finally be happy. I curled up in the dark corner of the living room, watching them. It was late, but my parents didn’t go to sleep. Mom’s voice broke the silence. “David… I just wanted her to learn. I just wanted her to be stronger.” Dad sighed heavily, lighting a cigarette. “During the parent-teacher conference, Mr. Joel said Christy is too anxious. She can’t even stand up to answer a question in class.” “Her voice starts shaking before she can even get a word out.” Dad wrapped his arms around Mom’s shoulders. “Christy is still young. The doctor said highly sensitive kids just experience the world differently. We shouldn’t pressure her too much.” “How can I not worry? I’m her mother!” Tears welled up in Mom’s eyes. “We won’t be around forever. What is she going to do when we’re gone?” “Is any company going to hire an employee who bursts into tears during a meeting?” “How is she going to survive the harsh reality of this world on her own?” Mom’s words were like sharp knives, tearing my heart to shreds. So… Mom had been worrying about my future all along. It was my own weakness that had made her so desperate. I’m sorry, Mom. I really, really wanted to be a normal kid. Looking at my mother trying so hard to be strong, I sobbed hysterically. I knelt before them, bowing my head to the floor over and over again. Dad, Mom, you don’t have to worry about me anymore. Your fragile, broken little girl will never trouble you again.

“Maybe we should actually take her to a child psychologist,” Dad suggested gently, rubbing his hands together. “I read online that with professional therapy, highly sensitive kids can learn to cope much better.” Mom raised her head, her face stained with tears. “Therapy is three hundred dollars an hour, David. And Maya’s dance classes are coming up.” “We don’t have that kind of money.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “And we can’t keep asking Maya to make sacrifices for Christy.” “Hey,” Dad said, a soft, weary smile appearing on his face. “We don’t sacrifice our kids’ well-being. I can start driving for Uber or Doordash after work. That’ll bring in some extra cash.” “But your sales job is already so exhausting…” Mom said, her heart aching as she looked at the dark circles under his eyes. “And I can take on some freelance bookkeeping clients,” she added. “We’ll make it work,” Dad said, pulling her close. “As long as our girls grow up healthy and happy, a little extra work is nothing.” I threw myself into their embrace, crying. Even though I knew they couldn’t feel me, I couldn’t stop. “It’s okay. I’m dead now. You don’t have to spend money on my therapy anymore.” “With just Maya to take care of, you won’t have to work yourselves to death.” My parents fell asleep holding each other on the couch. I squeezed myself between them, greedily soaking in the fleeting warmth of their presence. The next morning, the sun shone brightly. Mom woke up early, calling out for Maya and me to get ready. We were supposed to visit Grandma and Grandpa today. “Christy, time to wake up and eat breakfast!” Mom knocked on my door. No response. “Are you still pouting?” Mom’s voice rose, but then she caught herself and softened her tone. “I’m sorry, okay? Mom shouldn’t have yelled at you yesterday.” The room remained dead silent. “Christy, enough is enough!” The lack of response pushed Mom over the edge. Her anger flared again. “How can you hold a grudge like this? I only said a few words to you!” “I’m your mother! Am I not even allowed to correct you?!” A faint, metallic scent of copper began to drift through the air. Losing her patience, Mom grabbed the doorknob and twisted it hard. “Christy, get your butt out of—” Her voice cut off instantly.

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My mother hated me, her adopted daughter. She pulled some strings and sent me to a strict reform school designed to “correct my character.” She said my grandfather, Donald, had spoiled me into a selfish brat, and that I needed my morals beaten into shape. On the night I finally escaped that hellhole, I called her. My voice was trembling, begging. “Mom, please. I’m your real daughter. Chloe and Richard are trying to kill me. Please, just get me out of here.” Her voice on the other end was freezing cold. “It seems you still haven’t cured your habit of lying. If you want to die, go ahead.” Not long after, Chloe got accepted into her dream college. To celebrate, my mother sent someone to fetch me so I could attend the party. Her reasoning was, “After a year in that place, she must have learned her lesson. As long as she behaves, I’ll keep supporting her until she’s eighteen.” Later, she saw the DNA test results. She broke down, desperately searching for me, begging to make amends. But what can we do, Mom? I’m already dead.

I was an abandoned baby, left at an orphanage the day I was born. The director hated me. Whenever the other kids caused trouble or stole things, she would punish me first, locking me in a pitch-black closet for hours. When I was five, Helen came to the orphanage. She adopted me, bought me brand-new clothes, and fed me the best food. I didn’t have to wash clothes anymore. I wasn’t forced to kneel as punishment when a plate broke. Helen took care of me with such gentle caution, harboring me like a fragile treasure. Under her care, my pale, sickly face finally gained some healthy color. But the orphanage director still came for regular home visits. She whispered in my ear, “Even if you’re adopted, you’re just a stray. You will never compare to Helen’s biological daughter.” I didn’t believe her. My head was filled with thoughts of the Barbie doll Helen had promised to bring home for me. But the truth hit me too fast. The director’s words came true. Soon, I was abandoned again.

Helen came from an old-money dynasty and was groomed to take over the family empire from a young age. Richard, on the other hand, was just a working-class guy from a small town. When they fell in love and insisted on getting married, Donald was so furious he threatened to disinherit Helen. It was only when Richard offered to sign a strict prenuptial agreement that Donald finally relented. Chloe was born during the year Helen and Richard were most passionately in love. She was the symbol of their romance. But tragically, she was diagnosed with leukemia at the age of four. Helen desperately searched the donor registries and found me—a five-year-old in an orphanage with a fifty-percent bone marrow match. She couldn’t wait to adopt me, but it was solely to save Chloe. Because I was severely malnourished, the transplant surgery had to be delayed. While Richard stayed at the hospital to take care of Chloe, Helen stayed home to feed me, pumping me full of nutrients. Once my vitals met the standard, I was wheeled into the operating room. Terrified by the long, gleaming needles, I panicked and slapped the anesthesiologist’s hand away. Helen, who was standing by, glared at me with pure venom. “I took you in so you could repay your debt. Now is the time to do it.” “If you move again and hurt my daughter, I will throw you right back into that orphanage!” Terrified of losing her, I forced myself to stay still as the anesthesia slowly dragged me into darkness. The surgery was a success. When I was wheeled out, I was placed next to Chloe, who was still unconscious. Helen was hovering over her, crying tears of relief. I felt so weak, so tired. I reached my hand out toward Helen, but all she gave me was her back as she followed Chloe’s gurney away. I comforted myself. It’s okay, I thought. When I wake up, Mom will still love me.

But when I opened my eyes, the only thing I saw was the sneering face of the orphanage director. Seeing me look around in confusion, she scoffed. “What are you looking for? You got to play rich girl for a few days, and you actually thought you belonged here?” “Mrs. Helen called. The adoption is over. Pack your things. We’re going back to the orphanage.” She snatched my new dress off the hospital bed, tore it to shreds, threw it on the ground, and stomped on it. “Don’t daydream about things that don’t belong to you.” The paralyzing fear of being abandoned made me run out of the room before I could even put on my shoes. Dragging my weak body, I finally found Richard and Helen in a luxury VIP suite. Before I could say a word, Chloe saw me. She screamed and threw her glass of water at me. “Get out! I hate you! You tried to steal my parents!” “Mom and Dad are mine! They only love me, not a stray like you!” Before that day, Chloe didn’t know I existed. The heavy glass struck my forehead. It swelled instantly, and warm blood began to trickle down my face. But Helen didn’t scold Chloe. Instead, she and Richard rushed to comfort her, whispering promises that they would kick me out. After Chloe finally fell asleep, Helen walked out of the room. She looked down at me, her eyes completely devoid of warmth. She seemed to only just notice the blood on my forehead. “Does it hurt?” I stood there, trembling, and waved my hands frantically. “I can cook, Helen. I can do the laundry and clean the floors too.” “Please don’t throw me away. I’ll be so good. I’ll do whatever you want.” The hallway fell dead silent. Her voice was flat. “Don’t call me Mom. We only brought you here to save Chloe. Now that she’s cured, you need to leave. Your presence makes her unhappy.” I lowered my head, squeezing my tiny hands together, trying my best not to let her hear me cry. Seeing my silence, she turned around and went back into the room to tend to Chloe. In the end, I wasn’t taken back to the orphanage. Donald arrived and stopped them. In the hospital corridor, Donald and Helen had a huge fight over me. “She was only brought here to save Chloe,” Helen said coldly. “Now Chloe is fine, and she hates her. Besides, the girl has sticky fingers. I can’t keep a thief in my house.” Donald’s anger flared. “She is a child, not a toy you can discard when you’re done with it!” “This is cruel. She saved Chloe’s life. How can you be so heartless?” “Fine, do what you want,” Helen snapped, clearly annoyed. “If you want to raise her, take her yourself. The doctor said Chloe needs peace and quiet.” “We’re moving to the estate in the suburbs to help Chloe recover. We won’t be coming back here.” Unwilling to argue further, Helen turned and walked away. After that, Donald took care of me. The post-surgery complications gave me a high fever that kept me in the hospital for two weeks, leaving me with stress-induced epilepsy. I could no longer handle severe shock or stress. Helen never came to visit me once. After Chloe recovered, she, Richard, and Chloe moved to the suburban mansion. I was taken back to Donald’s estate. Donald protected me fiercely, but my epilepsy eventually terrified Chloe.

Because of the transplant, my health was fragile, and I spent half my time in hospitals. Donald even consulted astrologers and psychics for me. They all warned him that I would face a life-threatening disaster when I turned eighteen. Terrified that I wouldn’t survive, Donald threw a massive, lavish party for my sixth birthday. That day, he announced the establishment of a multi-million dollar charity foundation in my name, hoping to bring me good karma to ward off the curse. Even the rarely-seen Chloe attended. She came to my room and handed me a pearl necklace as a gift, personally fastening it around my neck. I thought she had finally accepted me. Overjoyed, I followed her downstairs. The moment Chloe saw Helen, her face crumpled, and she ran to her, looking incredibly wronged. Helen immediately asked her what was wrong, but Chloe just kept her head down, refusing to speak. She kept darting fearful looks at me, acting entirely terrified. Helen looked up at me. I didn’t register the growing fury on her face and walked over, eager to greet her. Before I could speak, Helen reached out and violently ripped the pearl necklace from my neck. The pearls scattered everywhere. The force of her pull left a thin, bloody scratch on my collarbone. “Mom…” I stood there, terrified. “I told you, I am not your mother,” she hissed, her eyes wide with rage. “Why are you wearing this?” “Chloe gave it to me. It was a gift.” Before I could explain further, she let out a harsh, mocking laugh. “Liar. The gift Chloe prepared for you is right here in my bag.” “And this pearl necklace is her favorite. She barely even wears it herself.” Chloe, who had been hiding behind Richard, spoke up in a small, trembling voice. “Tessa… you said you liked it. You said if I didn’t give it to you, you’d tell Donald to kick me out. You said… you said everything here would belong to you eventually.” She whimpered, burying her face. Helen’s icy expression softened into pure tenderness as she looked at her. “It’s okay, sweetie. Tell me the truth. I won’t let anyone bully you.” Emboldened, Chloe looked at me. “She said if I didn’t give it to her, she’d make my life hell.” Just then, the orphanage director, who had also been invited, chimed in. “She’s been a thief since she was a baby. Once she sets her eyes on something, she steals it. So young, yet so vain.” To the guests, the words of two adults and a crying child were far more convincing than mine. Besides, I was the only “outsider” who had recently moved into the family. Helen’s face hardened. Every word of explanation I offered was treated as a lie. “If we hadn’t caught her today, we’d be harboring a thief.” “They say the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. No wonder she has no manners.” Her cruel words pierced my ears. My body began to shake, and it became hard to breathe. Chloe clutched Richard and Helen’s hands, giving me a smug, triumphant look. Helen lovingly patted her head. “Keep your valuables locked up from now on. We have a thief in the house now. Who knows when someone will develop a case of light fingers?” The surrounding guests whispered and pointed at me. As the crowd grew, Donald noticed the commotion and rushed over, only to hear Helen shouting insults at me. “I’m telling you, Tessa is my granddaughter!” Donald roared, stepping in front of me. “Even if you don’t care about her, keep your mouth shut!” Seeing Donald defend me, I wanted to speak. But in the next second, my jaw twitched, and my hands went into violent spasms. My epilepsy was triggered. Under Helen’s horrified and disgusted gaze, I collapsed onto the floor, foaming at the mouth, my eyes rolling back. Instinctively, I reached out to claw at Helen’s shoes. She gasped in disgust and kicked my hand away, quickly covering Chloe’s eyes. Donald frantically searched my pockets for my rescue meds, but they were gone. He screamed at the staff to run upstairs and grab the backup bottle. Through my fading vision, I saw Chloe hiding something in her pocket. It was my medicine. Seeing me stare at her, her smug face twisted into fake terror, and she buried herself in Helen’s coat, whimpering, “Mom, she’s so scary. I’m frightened.” Helen stood by, her face twisted in repulsion, watching my agony with cold indifference. After I was carried back to my room, I could hear Helen’s sharp voice through the door. “I told you we shouldn’t have adopted her! Look at Chloe, she’s so traumatized she can’t even speak!” Donald’s voice was heavy with rage. “Have you forgotten why she got this disease in the first place? Aren’t you afraid of karma? You will regret this!” “Get out! Don’t ever come back to this house!” Helen’s voice was completely indifferent. “Dad, I never regret anything I do.” On the other side of the door, I curled myself into a tight ball under the blankets, biting my arm hard to stifle my sobs. Because at that exact moment, I finally realized—my mother did not belong to me. And she never would.

For the next seven years, I barely saw Helen or Richard, even though Chloe and I attended the same private school. On the day I turned sixteen, Donald tragically fell down the stairs and died. I was the only one at the scene when it happened. Helen somehow heard a rumor that Donald had consulted psychics who said I was cursed. By the time the rumor reached her, I had become a cursed jinx who brought death to everyone around me. At the funeral, Helen’s eyes were bloodshot with grief. She walked straight up to me and slapped me hard across the face. “My father was in perfect health! How could he just slip and fall?!” “You pushed him, didn’t you? You cursed brat!” “I knew we shouldn’t have taken you in. He was just too soft-hearted.” “Now you’ve killed him! Why couldn’t it have been you who died?!” She broke down in tears, pushing me violently to the ground. Richard had to hold her back. My face was pale, my eyes hollow. I stood outside the funeral home, listening to the murmurs of the crowd, completely numb. I just squeezed my fists, forcing myself not to cry.

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On the eighth anniversary of our marriage, I was driving my daughter to school when my phone rang. It was a follow-up call from a luxury hotel. “Is this Mr. Julian Vance? Your wife, Chloe, left her diamond ring in the penthouse suite.” I froze. Julian Vance was my husband. Chloe Sinclair was my best friend. Panic clawing at my chest, I rushed to my brother, Nathan, begging him to help me look into it. But Nathan wasn’t surprised at all. He just looked at me with a calm, pitying expression and sighed. “Summer, they already have a child together. Just pretend you don’t know.” “Julian was only trying to protect you. That’s why he asked us to keep it from you.” A cold sweat broke out over my entire body. Before I could process his words, someone else chimed in. “He’s right, Summer. Don’t blame Chloe.” “You’re both mothers. Try to show her some empathy.” The speaker was my sister-in-law, Penny. She was also supposed to be my other best friend. And now, she was telling me to forgive a mistress and her bastard child. It turned out that in family, friendship, and love, I was nothing but an outsider. ***

Seeing the dead silence in my eyes, Nathan tried to persuade me with a heavy heart. “Summer, you’re not young anymore. Besides, you have Lily to think about.” “Take my advice. Close one eye and get on with it. A compromised marriage is still better than ending up single and lonely.” This was my own brother. My flesh and blood. And here he was, actively helping my husband deceive me. Penny stood beside him, gently grabbing my wrist with a practiced, placating smile. “Exactly, Summer. At our age, where are you going to find the leverage to start over?” “Chloe didn’t have a choice back then. When her family went bankrupt and got buried in debt, she was cornered by shady loan sharks. Julian bailed her out. She had nothing to offer in return, so she could only…” A sharp pain stabbed through my chest. Since our college days, Penny, Chloe, and I had been inseparable. We had sworn to be sisters for life. But now, knowing full well that Chloe was the homewrecker, she was still taking her side. People are biased. It didn’t matter that I had once taken a bottle to the head and got eight stitches to save Penny from a group of thugs. None of it mattered now. I violently shook off her hand and said coldly, “Penny, from this day on, we are done.” She gasped, startled. Before she could speak, the office door was flung open. Julian walked in, his face dark with fury. He stared straight at me. Nathan and Penny quickly took the hint and slunk out of the room. Only the two of us were left in the tense silence. Julian walked up to me, his voice deep and demanding. “Summer, what exactly are you trying to achieve by making a scene here?” In all the years we had known each other, this was the first time he had ever looked at me with such cold indifference. Swallowing the lump in my throat, I choked out, “Julian, what did I ever do to deserve this? You’ve been sleeping with my best friend behind my back, and you even have a kid with her?” Seeing the tears in my eyes, Julian’s expression softened slightly. He sighed, pulling me into his arms. “Summer, don’t worry. She will never replace you.” My eyes stung. I stubbornly pushed him away. I refused to share my husband with another woman. Julian’s brows furrowed, his patience thinning. “Summer, if we go to court, I will fight for Lily’s custody with everything I have. You know how that will end. Do you really want her to suffer poverty with you?” I stared at him, my mind blank. The boy I had loved since we were teenagers was now threatening to strip me of my daughter. Seeing me hesitate, Julian’s tone softened a fraction. “Just live your life quietly. You and Lily will be taken care of forever. To the world, you will still be the glamorous Mrs. Vance.” I hid my resolve deep inside and nodded slowly. From that day on, I pretended everything was back to normal. I picked Lily up from school, cooked, and smiled. I stopped questioning Julian when he stayed out all night. I stopped leaving the porch light on for him. Instead, I quietly hired an investigator to gather evidence of his infidelity. Until one day, a familiar figure appeared at my door. It was Chloe. We hadn’t seen each other in a long time. She looked slightly anxious, standing on my driveway. For years, I had genuinely believed Chloe had a hard life. When she got pregnant out of wedlock a few years ago, she lived alone. I felt so sorry for her that I practically raised her child myself, buying most of the baby supplies. I had even begged Julian to help her out financially. Looking back, it was a joke. They didn’t need my permission to be together. Chloe stepped forward, her voice soft. “Summer, can we talk?” I stopped in my tracks and looked at her blankly. “Say what you have to say.” She bit her lower lip, glancing nervously at the passersby, and whispered, “Things weren’t supposed to go this far. Julian and I… we’ve been together for years. The kids are growing up. I just want us to coexist peacefully.” “I never wanted to ruin your life. But love… love is something we can’t control.” Listening to her pathetic excuses, I let out a dry, mocking laugh. “Cut the act, Chloe.” I stared at her, a sudden realization hitting me. “Julian cheated on me with you during my second month of pregnancy, on my birthday, didn’t he?” ***

Chloe’s pale face gave me all the answers I needed. On that birthday, Julian had promised to come home early. I had waited all night with the positive pregnancy test in my hand. He didn’t return until dawn, covered in cuts and bruises. I had panicked, trying to take him to the ER, but he had pulled me tightly into his arms, whispering, *“Summer, don’t move. Just let me hold you. I missed you so much.”* It wasn’t love. It was just the guilt of his first betrayal. Every red flag I had ignored over the years began to flash in my mind. No wonder Chloe had moved to a new apartment right after that night. She had claimed she was being stalked and a “good Samaritan” had saved her. That savior was Julian. “Summer, we can still be friends,” Chloe said, reaching out to grab my hand like she used to. I flinched away. I let out a self-deprecating laugh. “Friends? The kind who sleep with each other’s husbands?” Suddenly, a splash of cold water hit my face. Water dripped from my eyelashes. I looked up to see Penny standing there, holding an empty cup, her face flushed with anger. “Summer, do you think Chloe is having an easy time?” “Privileged princesses like you will never understand what it’s like to struggle! No wonder you’ve never had any real friends!” A sharp pain stabbed at my heart. I swallowed my tears and forced myself to stay quiet. No. I couldn’t ruin my plans now. Just then, Julian appeared. He handed me a napkin. His tone was patronizing, like he was dealing with a toddler throwing a tantrum. “Summer, stop making a scene. Lily is waiting in the car.” All my rage was sucked dry. Right. I still had my daughter. Now was not the time to blow everything up. As I turned to leave, a stray dog suddenly charged out of the bushes toward us. In a split second, Julian didn’t hesitate. He threw his body over Chloe. He shielded her in his arms, shouting at the dog. Terrified by his yells, the dog swerved and knocked me to the pavement. I hit the ground hard, scraping my hands and knees. Fortunately, a security guard ran over and tackled the dog. Julian gently helped Chloe to her feet. He didn’t even look at me as he muttered, “Are you okay?” Before I could answer, he added, “I’m taking Mia to the theme park tonight. I won’t be home.” The evening wind blew, freezing the sweat on my skin. I shouldn’t have expected anything else. I dragged my bruised body to the car. As soon as I opened the door, Lily threw herself into my arms, her small voice filled with confusion. “Mommy, why did Daddy protect that lady instead of you? You were closer to the dog.” Even a five-year-old could see it. But he chose to be blind. Choking back my tears, I stroked her hair. “Because Daddy is farsighted, sweetie. He can only see things that are far away.” My daughter nodded, trying to understand. For the next week, Julian didn’t come home. Then, out of the blue, he called me. “Summer, Chloe has been terribly sick lately. We’ve been to every hospital, but the doctors can’t find anything physically wrong with her.” Before I could speak, his voice turned ice-cold. “I had a spiritual advisor look into it. He says the root of the problem is at the cemetery. Your mother’s grave is too close to Chloe’s mother’s grave. The conflicting energies are making Chloe sick.” My fingers gripped the phone so hard they went numb. “What are you talking about?” “Move your mother’s grave.” ***

Julian’s tone was completely matter-of-fact, devoid of any guilt. “Do it as soon as possible. Stop dragging Chloe’s health down with your stubbornness.” His words felt like a heavy blow to my chest, stealing the air from my lungs. When Chloe was in middle school, she and Penny used to come to my house all the time. My mother knew Chloe loved beef stew, so she made it for her every single time she visited. Later, when Chloe’s mother died of illness, her family was already bankrupt and couldn’t even afford a decent funeral. It was *my* savings that paid for her mother’s burial. Neither my mother nor I had ever done her wrong. But now, she wouldn’t let me live in peace, and she wouldn’t even let my dead mother rest. I bit my lip, my voice trembling. “No way. My mother has been buried for years. She deserves to rest in peace. I will never move her grave.” My refusal set Julian off. His voice boomed through the receiver, laced with disgust. “Summer, can you be reasonable for once? It’s just relocating a coffin! Chloe’s life is on the line, and you’re still trying to play your petty games?” He slammed the phone down. That afternoon, Julian took a crew to the cemetery. By the time I rushed there, everyone I loved was already standing by the plot. Nathan walked up to me, trying to play the peacemaker. “Summer, don’t be so dramatic. It’s just a grave relocation. The dead are already gone, but the living still have to survive.” I looked at my brother, my heart freezing over. The last of my patience snapped. I marched forward and slapped Chloe across the face with everything I had. Her head snapped back. Instantly, tears welled in her eyes as she sobbed, “Julian… I didn’t force him… I just felt so sick…” A murderous rage flared in Julian’s eyes. He grabbed my wrist, squeezing so hard I felt my bones creak. His voice was laced with venom. “Summer! Are you insane? How dare you put your hands on her!” Nathan immediately stepped in, pinning my shoulders down. “Summer! That’s enough! Apologize to Chloe right now! Stop acting like a lunatic!” I thrashed against his grip, screaming at the top of my lungs. “A lunatic? Who is the lunatic here?!” “I paid to bury her mother! I gave her everything!” “And what did she do? She destroyed my family, and now she wants to dig up my dead mother!” “Nathan, that’s *our* mother in there! How can you let them do this?!” Rain began to pour from the sky. The heavy drops mingled with the tears streaming down my face. Nathan’s face stiffened, but he remained stubborn. “She’s already dead, Summer! It’s just a grave! Why do you have to make everything so difficult?!” With those words, the last thread of sibling love between us snapped. Julian looked at me, a brief flicker of hesitation passing through his eyes. But in the next second, Chloe whimpered miserably, “Summer is right. It’s all my fault. I shouldn’t even be alive.” Julian panicked. To comfort his mistress, he looked at me cold-bloodedly. “Since you slapped Chloe, you can watch your mother’s grave get dug up as punishment.” At his signal, several burly bodyguards stepped forward. They dragged me to the ground, forcing me onto my knees in the wet, cold mud. In front of me, the workers picked up their shovels and began to dig. The headstone bearing my mother’s name slowly began to tilt. I shook violently, my tears washing away in the torrential rain as I begged, “Julian, please… I’m begging you, stop.” “That’s my mother. She’s gone. She did nothing wrong!” “Chloe’s illness has nothing to do with my mom! You know that!” “Please, stop digging… I beg you!” I threw away all my dignity, but Julian remained unmoved. Chloe leaned against his chest, a smug, triumphant smile playing on her lips. She did this on purpose. Kneeling in the mud before my mother’s desecrated grave, I made a silent vow: *I will never forgive them. Not in this life, not in the next.* After that day, I fell gravely ill. Then, a frantic call came from Lily’s school. The teacher’s voice was trembling with panic. “Mrs. Vance, you need to come to school right now! Lily got into a massive fight with another student!” “Both of them have run up to the roof of the building! It’s extremely dangerous!” My heart leaped into my throat, my limbs going weak. Lily was a gentle, sweet girl. She never fought with anyone. How could she end up on a rooftop? Without thinking, I got into my car and sped toward the school. I prayed with everything I had that my baby would be okay. I pushed open the heavy iron door of the rooftop, and the scene before me made my heart stop.

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