Author: Momo Chan

I just posted vacation photos with my boyfriend on social media when a relationship tester private messaged me. “Hey sweetie, your boyfriend looks like a player. Give me his Ins, and I’ll test him for free, okay?” I replied: “Scammer! You’re probably just a homewrecker looking to seduce other people’s boyfriends.” After I refused, she posted our private conversation online and played the victim. A flood of internet users swarmed into my messages to insult me. I publicly apologized to her, saying I just wanted a quiet life. But she and the internet mob were convinced I was guilty and insisted they had to help test whether my boyfriend was faithful. A few days later, the relationship tester triumphantly posted a screenshot of adding my boyfriend as an Ins friend, with the caption: “Easy catch. Your boyfriend’s not behaving~” But as I looked at her, I felt nothing but pity. The relationship tester’s new post had been up for barely an hour when it broke ten thousand likes. I stared at the two screenshots in the post. The first was a friend request: “Hey handsome, add me as a friend~” The second was their Ins chat interface. The comment section had already exploded, with internet users flooding in to mock me. “Quick, make her look! Her boyfriend is flirting with a strange woman!” “No wonder she cursed when offered a free test. Turns out her boyfriend is cheap trash.” As the internet wished, I was tagged in the pinned comment. Watching the comments become increasingly vicious, I couldn’t help posting an explanation: “Thank you all for your concern about my relationship, but my boyfriend and I have known each other since high school, and I trust him. If our relationship really falls apart in the future, I’ll break up without hesitation, but until then I don’t want to subject him to any human nature tests, and I don’t want anyone interfering in our relationship.” Seeing quite a few internet users agreeing, I breathed a sigh of relief, praying everyone would just disperse. But the relationship tester immediately came crying: “Sweetie, I don’t want to ruin your relationship. I just wanted to help test him because I’m afraid of girls meeting bad men.” As soon as she spoke, the fans who originally supported her followed suit. They were convinced I just couldn’t let go of a scumbag. Looking at these harsh words, my chest tightened. Finally I just turned off my phone. That evening, after finishing work, I came home. As soon as I entered, I saw my boyfriend Aaron leaning on the sofa looking at his phone, a faint smile on his handsome face. Hearing me, he reflexively jerked away, turning his phone face-down, and said stiffly: “Summer, you’re home so early today?” “Yeah, were you chatting with someone?” “A buddy.” My heart sank. He was lying. Aaron always blinked when he lied. I comforted myself—we were adults, everyone had their private matters. I pretended not to notice and complained about work as usual. Aaron also listened quietly as usual, but his eyes kept glancing at his phone. After talking for ages without a single response from him, I felt inexplicably tired. Remembering the day’s drama, I couldn’t help testing: “Aaron, did any strange people try to add you on Ins today?” He smiled lightly: “No.” But my heart sank even deeper at his words. I unconsciously gripped my collar tighter, quickly shaking those strange thoughts from my mind. Aaron and I had been through so much together. It wasn’t like others hadn’t appeared—junior girls who had crushes on him, coworkers who liked him—but he rejected them all. How could our relationship be destroyed now by some random person who appeared online? Besides, I knew what kind of person Aaron was. Thinking this, I relaxed and went to my room to rest. But when I opened my social media app, I saw the relationship tester had just posted again. “Foolish woman, I feel sorry for you.”

I couldn’t help being drawn to her cover image—a screenshot of her chat with Aaron. It started with awkward attempts at conversation, until she discovered Aaron loved gaming, and they suddenly hit it off. My grip on my phone tightened. It was true—Aaron was really good at games. In contrast, I was terrible at them. Realizing I’d only drag him down, over time I stopped playing with him. Comments quickly flooded the post: “Oh my god, and she won’t break up?” Immediately followed by frantically tagging me. “She acts like she’s never seen a man before. All she deserves in this life is garbage.” “Props to the blogger, being able to chat with such a disgusting man.” The relationship tester gently replied: “Sweetie, I’m not suffering. I mainly want to help sisters see men clearly.” Internet users were touched and rushed to comfort her: “The blogger is too good, what a shame the wife doesn’t appreciate it.” “It’s okay, some women are smart, some are dumb. We need patience. I’ll keep working to help her wake up.” Internet users were moved by her warm words, praising her en masse as her follower count skyrocketed overnight. I clicked through to her profile, where posts about testing other people’s boyfriends filled the page. Each post’s cover image had large words reading “Certified Scum,” and the comment sections were filled with praise and people thanking her. So now it was my turn? Just then I heard the door open. I watched Aaron walk into the room, his expression unreadable, and asked again: “Aaron, I can trust you, right?” Aaron tilted his head in confusion, then smiled and walked over, pulling me into his arms and nuzzling my forehead affectionately: “Of course.” “Okay, I trust you.” I put down my phone and turned off the light to sleep. After that, I stopped going online, and Aaron showed no unusual behavior. I figured in a few days, once new entertainment appeared, they’d leave on their own. But several days later, after finishing a client meeting and taking a break, I saw Aaron’s back on a nearby pedestrian street. His tall, straight figure in a black jacket stood out in the crowd. Equally eye-catching was the beauty beside him—in a fitted black dress, smiling brilliantly while holding his hand. It was the relationship tester from online. I gripped my handbag tightly and hurried forward. Just as I got close, the relationship tester let go of his hand and ran off as if avoiding suspicion. Aaron turned around, looking at me with surprise and panic: “Summer, what are you doing here?” My gaze moved from him to the person running away, my tone cold: “Who was that just now?” He avoided my eyes: “A salesperson, kept pulling me to push products.” “Then what are you doing here?” Aaron owned a large club and usually stayed at the shop. Yet today he’d come to this distant place. He smiled: “I heard you were here for business, so I planned to wait until your break and take you to dinner.” He even showed me his phone—he’d booked a couple’s restaurant. Though I didn’t like the gaudy decor, thinking of his thoughtfulness, I happily agreed. The food was decent. After eating, my mood improved. Bored, I played with my phone, wanting to see if the online storm had passed. But as soon as I opened the app, I saw the relationship tester’s new post: “Sweetie, you ate the meal meant for me.” The photo showed me happily eating and chatting with Aaron. Aaron happened to be looking down, not at me, his back appearing somewhat lonely and distracted in that moment. I suddenly looked toward where she’d taken the photo, but that spot was already empty. My good mood evaporated completely. My chest felt stuffy, and I accidentally glimpsed the sarcastic comments mocking me in the comment section. A breath stuck in my chest, unable to escape. Just then, the relationship tester sent a private message, her tone still full of that pitying concern: “Sweetie, I think you saw that the scumbag probably lied to you, saying I was a salesperson.” An unnamed fire burned in my chest, my tone turning irritable: “I’m reminding you one more time—I don’t need your so-called testing. Please stay away from me and my boyfriend!” The relationship tester remained breezy: “Every woman reacts like you when facing reality. But that’s okay, I believe it won’t be long before you come to thank me too.” “Enough! I’ll say this one last time—interfering in others’ relationships, no matter what excuse you use, makes you a homewrecker.” She sighed helplessly: “Okay, I’ll help you test him a bit longer.”

After saying this, she disappeared, and I was so irritated I wanted to throw my phone. Looking up, I saw Aaron had received some message and said: “Summer, I might be busy lately. I have to go.” He left in a hurry. I watched him get into his car downstairs. A woman got into the passenger seat, her face blocked by him, but she wore the same fitted black dress. I sat there for a long time before remembering to return to the office. As soon as I got back, I saw the afternoon proposal still spread on the desk, unfinished. “What’s going on with this proposal? I assigned it this morning, and it’s still not done?” I slammed the file on the desk. Several subordinates hung their heads silently. In the corner, a new intern scrolled through her phone and laughed. “What are you laughing at?” She looked up and turned her phone toward me. The screen showed the relationship tester’s new post. The trending topic was getting bigger, and people around had all seen it. “Ms. Reynolds, your own face is getting slapped to pieces, and you still come to lecture us?” The others around her mocked me too. Just then the door opened. My supervisor walked in, saw the proposal still incomplete, and chewed me out. “Summer Reynolds, I’m warning you, your messy drama is seriously affecting the company’s image. If you don’t clean it up within a week, get out!” By the time I got off work, I dragged my exhausted body home to find the house completely dark. I turned on the light and saw a note on the table. “Summer, I have something to take care of. Take care of yourself. I’ll bring you a gift when I get back.” I pulled out my phone to call him, but it kept showing temporarily unavailable. Messages I sent on SnapChat also went unanswered. I sat on the sofa for a while, then reflexively opened social media. Sure enough, the relationship tester had pinned a new post to her homepage. “Invited by a certain gentleman to travel for a few days. I’ll live-stream the test results for you all then.” Above was her selfie and a plane ticket. The internet users below, hearing about the livestream, completely lost it. Even after seeing it required payment, a bunch of people said they’d pay to watch this drama unfold. A crowd of people came to my account asking if I’d break up. I reaffirmed my position and seriously told the relationship tester: “I know what kind of person my boyfriend is. Please stop bothering us. This is for your own good.” This time, unlike the previous mockery, quite a few people started pitying me and dug up all my posts and comments to analyze my psychological state step by step. Some said I must have lacked love growing up, which was why I was so desperate to please men, calling on everyone to love their daughters well. Others said I was just stubborn, saving face even when broke, too proud to admit the truth. I was too lazy to argue with them and exited the app. Just then I received a friend request from a stranger. As soon as I accepted, she sent a photo she’d taken of Aaron and a location. “He’s here.”

The next day was Saturday. I booked a flight. On the way, a cute-looking girl blocked my path. She claimed that thanks to the relationship tester’s help, she’d finally seen men’s true colors. Finished speaking, she gripped my hand sympathetically and said: “I really can’t stand watching you degrade yourself like this. Is it worth constantly defending a man? We need to wake up.” I looked back at her earnestly, very much agreeing with her words, and pulled out a hundred dollars in cash. “You said it so well, thank you for enlightening me. This is money I just found. Here, take it.” She was stunned at first, saying awkwardly: “Found money… giving it to me doesn’t seem right.” Though she said this, she cheerfully reached for the money. The instant her hand was about to touch it, I snatched it back with disdain: “You’d even take found money? You fail the morality test.” Realizing I’d tricked her, she raged: “What’s wrong with you! I gave you sincere advice, and you pull this ridiculous test?” “Don’t you people love testing? Why are you unhappy when it’s your turn?” “How is this the same? That’s testing love!” I laughed coldly: “Aren’t they both tests? Who are you people anyway? What gives you the right to randomly test others?” Her face flushed with anger, pointing at me: “No wonder people call you a doormat wife. Just wait until the test results come out and you get what’s coming to you.” She stormed off angrily, and I turned to continue on my way. I flew all the way to my destination. Just after landing, I saw the relationship tester had already set up her phone to start the livestream. She wore a sexy slip dress, lounging lazily on the soft hotel bed. Internet users below were shouting, asking why I hadn’t appeared yet, wondering if I was hiding somewhere crying. The relationship tester told internet users to be more patient with unenlightened girls, while her lips couldn’t help curling into a smile. But as the chat time increased, internet users noticed it was well past the agreed time and started getting suspicious. “How come that guy still hasn’t shown up? Are we being played?” “To be honest, I’ve been wondering if the blogger actually hooked him. It’s all chat records—we haven’t seen them on screen together.” A flash of panic crossed the relationship tester’s face. She quickly adjusted, flipping her hair confidently: “Sweetie, would I fake this? I’m not just any woman. When someone of my caliber makes a move, no man can resist.” “Really? You’re that amazing? Next time help me test mine too.” “No problem. After this test ends and I successfully help that sister break up, I’ll help you.” Internet users above kept thanking her, saying thanks to such selfless beauties like her, more girls could escape suffering. Only people like me deserved to be deceived by scumbags. I silently watched their chat on screen, finally unable to resist commenting: “While there’s still a chance to salvage this, I advise you to stop now.” As soon as I appeared, they started clamoring. “Well well, if it isn’t the internet’s most famous doormat wife. Come to watch your boyfriend’s cheating scene?” Just then, the sound of the door lock came. The relationship tester hid her phone, then stuck out her chest toward the screen: “Sweetie, don’t be afraid of the test. This is all for your own good.” Finished speaking, the hotel room door opened and a man walked in.

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I traded three years of my youth for a love that was nothing but a complete mistake. I was the one who saved Lucas from that kidnapping chamber. I was the one whose wrist bears the scar from protecting him. But he kept my words close and worshipped my sister as the light in his darkness. My father forced me to marry into a wealthy family, to a useless man in a vegetative state, to plug the holes in our family business. I thought Lucas would refuse on my behalf. Instead, he said. “Hurry up and marry him. Don’t hold up my wedding to Vivian.” When I turned around and married into the Quinn family, becoming Mrs. Quinn, only then did he frantically search the world for me. But he’ll never know that I never bowed to fate. I came to collect every blood debt he owes me, with my own hands. Jade’s POV “The vegetable from the Quinn family. I’ll marry him.” Vincent froze for a moment, then a delighted smile spread across his face. “Jade, you’ve come around? The Quinn family may have a comatose heir right now, but they’re true old money. Once you marry in for this business alliance, the capital injection…” “I have conditions.” “Name them.” Vincent’s mood lifted as he settled back into his leather ergonomic chair. “Mother’s shares-I want them liquidated.” I held up one finger. “Ten billion dollars.” “Ten billion? That’s all of the Reynolds family’s liquid assets! Right now Vivian’s venture has some losses…” “Those are her losses.” I looked at him coldly. “Pay me what I’m owed, and I’ll marry him. If not, let Vivian marry him herself.” Vincent slammed his hand on the desk, about to lose his temper, then held back. He needed the Quinn family’s money. “Fine.” He gritted his teeth. “What else?” “Transfer Lucas’s employment contract to Vivian.” This time Vincent was genuinely stunned. The whole city knew I protected my bodyguard Lucas above all else. Three years ago when he was kidnapped, I went crazy trying to find a way to rescue him. “Can you really bear to?” Vincent narrowed his eyes. “Weren’t you saying you’d marry no one but him?” The scar on my left wrist throbbed with phantom pain. “As long as you pay what I’m owed, you can take him.” I sneered. “Reassign him as Vivian’s bodyguard, or whatever else she wants-she’s been eyeing him anyway.” Vincent stared at me for a long moment, as if trying to determine whether I meant it. In the end, he compromised in the face of such massive capital and the temptation of currying favor with the Quinns. “Fine. Once the Quinn family’s betrothal gift arrives, I’ll transfer the money.” I turned to leave. My hand had just touched the doorknob when Vincent’s voice came from behind me. “Jade, can you really bear it? That’s Lucas we’re talking about.” My right hand on the doorknob trembled slightly as I remembered the devout look in Lucas’s eyes when he gazed at Vivian. I only felt it was ridiculous. I didn’t answer. I slammed the study door with force. Downstairs, the living room was brightly lit. The floor was covered with pink balloons and various luxury gift boxes. This was the warm-up for Vivian’s celebration party. My marriage was a bargaining chip in a ten-billion-dollar transaction-no one cared. The illegitimate daughter’s fake nomination was worth the whole family decorating with lights and colors. A pink balloon drifted to my feet. I lifted my heel expressionlessly and crushed it down hard. Pop. The sound of the balloon bursting echoed through the empty living room. I walked through the corridor to Lucas’s quarters. Because of his severe photophobia, all the lawn lights in this area had been specially dimmed. The door to his meditation room was ajar, with no lights on inside, only a faint red glow seeping through. I didn’t go in. I just stood quietly at the door. Heavy breathing came from inside, carrying a sickly oppression. Through the gap in the door, I saw Lucas sitting on the carpet, holding an exquisitely mounted manuscript in his hands. He buried his face in that calligraphy, breathing deeply, like a dying person inhaling oxygen. His fingers traced over the ink marks on the paper bit by bit. “Vivian…” “Only your writing can save me.” That piece of calligraphy was signed “Vivian Reynolds,” but the handwriting was actually my unique script. Three years ago, he and I were locked in adjacent cells. I slipped notes to him through cracks in the wall, using this handwriting style to write encouraging words to keep him alive. The day we were rescued, I was carried away in a high fever and delirium. Vivian stood before him holding a stack of my manuscripts. So he decided that the person who gave him light in the darkness was Vivian.

Jade’s POV In this family, Vivian was the treasured jewel. I was the tool used to fill holes. After Mother died, Vincent cultivated a philanthropic wealthy persona for himself to seem refined. He didn’t understand architecture, but he knew Vivian needed a talented woman’s reputation to marry into even higher society. And I was that shadow. Since childhood, whenever there was a design competition, I was locked in the attic to draw. The winner’s list always bore Vivian’s name, and those trophies would be displayed in the most prominent spot in the living room for Vincent to brag about how outstanding his younger daughter was. If I didn’t draw, Mother’s belongings left to me would mysteriously disappear or get damaged. For the sake of those mementos, I lived my life as Vivian’s shadow. The private phone on the desk vibrated, breaking the suffocating silence. It was Lucas’s private number. Only a handful of people had it. He reluctantly set down the calligraphy he’d been holding, his brow furrowing slightly. When he answered, his voice instantly returned to its usual cold nobility. “Hey.” I stood in the shadows by the door, in no hurry to enter. The voice on the other end was probably his psychologist Dr. Xu, faintly audible through the receiver, asking about his recent condition and why he still endured my bad temper. Lucas’s fingers unconsciously tapped the table-his tell for irritation. “She’s just someone who knows how to draw blueprints.” His voice was cold, as if evaluating a defective product. “She’s a gold digger. Apart from money and scheming, what does she know about design?” I stood outside the door, my nails digging into my palms. So this was his assessment of my countless all-nighters and endless discarded drafts. Then his tone changed, becoming extremely tender. “Only Vivian’s calligraphy has spirit. Doctor, you don’t understand-what I saw in the darkness was exactly that kind of light. To protect Vivian’s purity, enduring that woman is worth it.” In that instant, I felt something shatter inside me. Since you’re so noble, don’t blame me for showing you what real gold-digging looks like. I pushed the door open. The loud sound of the door opening shattered the meditation room’s silence. Lucas reacted quickly, immediately turning to block the safe behind him, his brow furrowed, his eyes full of disgust at my intrusion. “Who gave you permission to come in?” he demanded coldly. I leaned against the doorframe, my gaze falling on the corner of the safe visible behind him, and let out a cold laugh. “Obsessing over a piece of paper-Mr. Hayes, what refined taste. Since you like it so much, why not go find the real person with all that ‘spirit’?” Lucas’s expression darkened, and he barked sharply, “Shut up! You don’t understand art, and you’re not worthy to speak Vivian’s name. Her calligraphy is priceless, unlike you-all you think about is business.” I ignored his rebuke and casually pulled a gold-embossed invitation from my bag, tossing it onto the table. “Tomorrow night, you’re coming to the gala with me.” The invitation slid across the table and stopped beside that piece of calligraphy. Lucas didn’t even glance at it, refusing without hesitation. “I’m busy. I have no interest in that kind of social climbing. Go by yourself.” “Is that so?” I adjusted my cuffs, my tone flat. “I heard Vivian will be there too. As the lead designer of the Holy Infant Cathedral, she’s going to accept an award.” The air froze for a second. Lucas’s previously cold expression instantly softened, his eyes relaxing, even taking on a hint of pride. “Holy Infant Cathedral… That’s Vivian’s life’s work.” He picked up the invitation, his slender fingers caressing the gold lettering. “What time do we leave?” Watching him like this, I only felt it was ridiculous. “Seven tomorrow evening.” With that, I turned and left the meditation room. Back in the attic, my room had no lights on. By the moonlight from the window, I could see a sketch still clipped to the easel. It was a discarded draft I’d drawn in a burst of inspiration late one night two years ago. I walked over and tore the sketch down. The sound of ripping paper was especially harsh in the quiet attic. I crumpled it into a ball and casually tossed it into the trash can by my feet. Since I was selling out, I might as well sell out completely. The next morning, servants delivered two evening gowns. One was the latest season’s white haute couture, with layers upon layers of skirt, studded with tiny crystals-ethereal and clearly prepared for Vivian. The other was black, an outdated style, not even the right size. The servant set down the clothes, her eyes evasive. “Mr. Reynolds said Miss Vivian is accepting an award and needs to look presentable. This black one is suitable for you to sit in the audience.” I said nothing and waved her out. That evening, Lucas was already waiting by the car. Because of his photophobia, he wore sunglasses and a haute couture suit, his posture straight and commanding. Such a man who could make waves in the city was now willing to act as my driver for Vivian’s sake. I walked over in my heels and pulled open the door to sit in the passenger seat. We didn’t exchange a single word the entire ride. The air pressure in the car was frighteningly low. Only when Lucas occasionally glanced at the rearview mirror would the corners of his mouth unconsciously lift slightly. I knew he was anticipating that “spirited” Vivian.

Jade’s POV I watched Lucas through the rearview mirror. His fingers rested on the steering wheel, long and defined. I looked down at my own hands. These hands had once held his in that sunless chamber, leading him out of despair. Now, those hands eagerly turned the steering wheel, rushing toward another woman. This was the last time I’d ride in his car. Once I got the Quinn family’s money, he would belong entirely to Vivian. Whether the man himself or that lie about salvation-I’d package it all up and send it to her. The car stopped at the gala hotel entrance. Media crowded both sides of the red carpet, flashbulbs creating a continuous white daylight. Lucas quickly unbuckled his seatbelt and got out. He didn’t come around to open my door. Instead, he stood by the car, his gaze urgently searching behind us. That car held Vivian. I pushed open the car door myself. The altered black gown wrapped around my body, my heels clicking on the ground. Vivian arrived. She wore that white haute couture gown, linking her arm through mine, smiling sweetly, posing for the cameras in a display of sisterly affection. I pulled my hand back in disgust, avoiding her touch. “Don’t dirty my clothes.” Vivian’s movements stiffened. She immediately turned to Lucas, her eyes reddening. “Lucas, is Jade still blaming me for borrowing her inspiration? I just thought that style was beautiful…” Lucas stepped forward in one stride, shielding her behind him, removing his sunglasses to look at me coldly. “Inspiration is just inspiration. Someone has to realize it to give it value.” He spoke matter-of-factly. “Vivian gave it soul. You should feel honored.” Vivian broke into a smile, pulling a miniature model of the Holy Infant Cathedral from her clutch. She held it up to Lucas like a treasure. “Look, the light and shadow design here-this is the divine light I imagined.” Lucas looked down at the model, his eyes instantly softening with a trace of devotion. “This is the world I saw in the darkness. Vivian, only you understand.” I laughed inwardly. Who was it that described that scene to him bit by bit through the wall in the detention cell? Vivian seemed to remember something and turned to look at me with concern. “Jade, are you still having trouble with your designs lately? You should rest more.” I looked at the design in her hands that belonged to me and said flatly, “My discarded drafts can win you major awards. What troubles could I possibly have?” A giant in the architecture world happened to walk by. He stopped, pointed at a support structure on the model, and asked Vivian curiously, “That load-bearing point is quite bold. How did you calculate it?” Vivian froze, unable to answer for a long time. Her eyes darted around evasively. “Well… by feel. For aesthetics, I thought this looked good.” The old professor frowned. “Architecture is rigorous science. Going by feel alone will make buildings collapse.” The atmosphere grew awkward. Just as Lucas was about to intervene, I spoke first. “It uses a hyperbolic tension structure.” I looked at the model. “It disperses thirty percent of the vertical load, which is why it appears lightweight.” The professor looked at me in surprise, nodded approvingly, and walked away. Vivian bit her lip, looking at Lucas with grievance. Lucas glanced at me with displeasure. “What good is memorizing textbooks? Vivian has an artist’s intuition.” The curator walked over, holding the final confirmation list. “Excuse me, we need to confirm the design attribution. Currently it’s registered under Reynolds Design Department.” I spoke up firmly. “Change it to Jade Reynolds.” Vivian panicked. “Jade, Dad and the sponsors’ intention is to promote new talent…” “New talent?” I sneered. “Show me your draft sketches! What are the core parameters? What are the light angles? Can you even answer?” Vivian opened her mouth, looking to Lucas for help. Lucas pulled a black card from his suit pocket and handed it to the curator. “I’m adding a hundred million in sponsorship for the Holy Infant Cathedral project’s startup fund.” Lucas’s voice wasn’t loud, but loud enough for those nearby to hear clearly. “The condition is that the lead designer’s name must be-Vivian Reynolds.” Vivian covered her mouth in excitement, looking at him with deep affection. I looked at Lucas in disbelief. “That’s my heart and soul!” He looked down at me from his height, his eyes cold as ice. “Jade, only Vivian deserves it. This hundred million is to buy your silence.” The big screen flickered. The host’s voice rang out loudly. “Now announcing this year’s Gold Award winner-Vivian Reynolds!” That name appeared huge and blood-red. I stood in the shadows, clutching the useless draft in my hand, crumpling it into a ball of garbage. That black card was a symbol of power, and the final straw that crushed me. In the face of capital, talent was so fragile. Three years of my work couldn’t match his one card.

Jade’s POV Thunderous applause hurt my eardrums. On the big screen, the three bright red characters of Vivian Reynolds seemed to flow down like blood, stinging my eyes. I turned and pushed through the crowd, fleeing. Leaving the hotel, I drove to a suspended Reynolds family construction project. I carried a bottle of dark liquor I’d bought at a roadside convenience store and sat on the high-level steel beams without any safety protection, letting the wind blow. The city lights spread out below my feet like a giant net. I looked at my calloused hands, wondering how much longer these hands could draw, how much longer I could struggle in this cesspool reeking of money. Suddenly, the roar of an engine came from below. A car door opened. Vivian pulled Lucas out. She walked across the uneven ground in her heels, stumbling with each step. Lucas patiently supported her waist, as if caring for a fragile piece of porcelain. What timing. Vivian insisted on visiting the site of her award-winning work in person. Ridiculously, she didn’t even know where the construction elevator was and had to rely on Lucas for directions. We ran into each other at the construction elevator. The elevator door closed. Three people crammed into the narrow iron cage. The air instantly thinned, mixed with Vivian’s sickeningly sweet perfume and the dust from the construction site. Vivian didn’t seem to mind my presence. She excitedly pointed at the night sky, beginning to envision the future. “Lucas, I want to build the tallest building here. I’ve even thought of the name-I’ll name it after you. Do you like it?” Lucas looked at her, his eyes so tender they could drown someone. “As long as you designed it, I like it.” Vivian turned to look at me provocatively, then asked Lucas, “What if Jade designed it?” Lucas didn’t even spare me a peripheral glance, coldly spitting out a sentence. “A building without soul is just a pile of garbage.” A pile of garbage. So that was his definition of the blueprints I’d drawn around the clock for three years. My sleepless revisions were worthless in his eyes. I gripped the liquor bottle in my hand tighter, my knuckles white. Since it’s garbage, let’s burn it. Burn it completely clean. Then none of us can have it. “You’re standing in a garbage heap right now.” I said coldly. Vivian shrank into Lucas’s arms pitifully. Lucas frowned, about to scold me, when the elevator stopped. As soon as we exited, several dusty workers surrounded us. They were subcontractor workers who’d been owed wages for half a year. Seeing people come up, their emotions instantly flared. “Pay us! Nobody leaves until we get paid today!” The lead foreman recognized me at a glance. After all, I was usually the one running around sites solving problems. That so-called genius designer Vivian couldn’t even read blueprints, let alone come to such dirty places. “She’s in charge! Get the money from her!” I was shoved, lost my footing, and fell hard onto a pile of rebar nearby. The sharp threaded steel cut through my arm, burning with pain. Instinctively, I looked toward Lucas. In the first second of the chaos, Lucas had pulled Vivian behind him, protecting her seamlessly within his safety circle. He watched coldly as I was surrounded by a group of angry men, as if this were just a farce unrelated to him. “You’re the Reynolds heiress. You should handle this.” His voice cut through the noisy crowd, reaching my ears clearly. I climbed up from the ground and didn’t look at him again. Grabbing a rusty iron rod from the ground, I stared viciously at the approaching workers. In the chaos, no one noticed the change in the corner. A worker’s cigarette butt fell onto a mountain of foam insulation boards. Flames instantly shot up, igniting the polystyrene boards. Black smoke silently snaked out from the corner. A pungent smell drilled into my nostrils. It was the characteristic toxic smell of burning polystyrene-suffocating. I whipped around to find the only escape route completely sealed by a wall of fire.

Jade’s POV The fire spread incredibly fast. Black smoke poured in through the ventilation ducts. The alarm shrieked piercingly, as if trying to puncture eardrums. Vivian covered her mouth, half her body draped over Lucas, tears streaming from the smoke. “Lucas, I’m scared…” Lucas said nothing, just held her tightly, his brow furrowed deeply. He searched for an exit in the chaos. So did I. But we quickly discovered the only escape route was half-blocked by collapsed debris, with the remaining gap filled with fire. The emergency box on the wall was red, especially conspicuous against the gray and black. Lucas was faster than me. He yanked open the glass door of the emergency box. Inside lay a single smoke mask. Only one. In that instant, time seemed to freeze. Around us were the crackling sounds of burning and workers’ shouts, but all I could hear was my own heartbeat. Lucas grabbed the mask. Without any hesitation, he fastened it over Vivian’s face. “Cover your mouth and nose. Don’t move.” The smoke seemed to come alive, rushing into my throat. I coughed violently. My throat felt like I’d swallowed a handful of red-hot coals, the burning sensation instantly spreading to my lungs. “Lucas…” I tried to call him, but my voice came out only as broken gasps. Lucas picked up Vivian, who wore the mask and was quietly sobbing. He turned his head and glanced at me through the swirling black smoke. “Cover your mouth and nose and keep up!” Keep up? In this smoke density, without protection, every step was stealing time from death. I clutched my collar, trying to filter out some of the poison, but that suffocating smell was still pervasive. My head began to spin. My vision gradually blurred. I watched Lucas’s retreating figure. He walked so quickly, so steadily, Vivian in his arms protected impenetrably. I tried to catch up, but tripped on something and fell heavily onto the scalding concrete floor. The figure ahead didn’t pause, didn’t even look back. The footsteps grew more and more distant. I lay on the ground, gripping tightly the iron rod I’d used for self-defense earlier. Heat from the floor seeped through the fabric. My consciousness began to fade. In his heart, my life wasn’t even worth a single hair on Vivian’s head. When the firefighters rushed in, I’d already lost consciousness. … When I woke again, I was in the hospital’s nebulizer room. My throat felt like it was stuck with countless knife blades. Each breath came with tearing pain. I wore an oxygen mask, trying to speak, but could only make a hoarse, ugly “heh-heh” sound. In the next bed, Vivian sat in a wheelchair. She was actually completely unharmed, not even a scratch, but that didn’t stop her from putting on a weak, post-trauma appearance. Lucas sat by her bed, holding a bowl of warm pear soup, scooping a spoonful, blowing on it to cool it, then bringing it to her lips. “Jade inhaled so much smoke trying to save me…” Vivian’s eyes reddened, her voice soft, “Lucas, am I a burden?” Lucas’s expression was indifferent. He used a tissue to wipe the soup from the corner of her mouth. “It’s not your fault.” He said. “She was just too slow.” I stared at them, my fingers gripping the bedsheet tightly. Seeming to sense my gaze, Lucas turned around. He looked at me, his eyes completely devoid of warmth. “In that situation, there was only one mask.” He explained coldly. “Vivian’s hands are for writing and drawing-they’re works of art. They couldn’t risk any fire damage. But you…” He paused, his gaze sweeping over my bandaged neck. “What’s wrong with Jade?” Vivian asked on cue. Lucas withdrew his gaze, placing the spoon back in the bowl with a crisp sound. “Your voice being hoarse doesn’t matter. You don’t say anything good normally anyway.” I didn’t speak. Couldn’t speak. To protect that impostor’s hands, he destroyed the real creator’s voice. The burning in my throat was nothing compared to the chill in my heart. “Don’t say anything good normally”? So these past years, all my reminders and care sounded like noise to him. I yanked out the IV, grabbed a glass medicine bottle from the table beside me, and hurled it at the floor with all my strength. Crash! The sound of shattering glass was especially jarring in the quiet hospital room. “Ah!” Vivian dramatically shrank into Lucas’s arms like a startled little rabbit. “Jade, don’t be angry, it’s all my fault…” I pointed at the door, forcing out a single hoarse word from my throat. “Get… out…” The sound was so ugly even I found it foreign. Vivian covered her face, crying, pulling at Lucas’s sleeve. Lucas stood up, his brow furrowed, clearly having lost patience with my unreasonable tantrum. He put his arm around Vivian and walked out. At the doorway, he stopped and looked back at me coldly. “Your voice is ruined, but your temper’s gotten worse.” He warned. “Reflect on yourself.” Not long after, a nurse came in to change the dressing. Seeing the glass shards all over the floor and medicine dripping from the IV tube, she frowned and complained. “So difficult to deal with.” I closed my eyes. Two tears slid from the corners down into my temples. Lucas, you win.

Jade’s POV The day I was discharged, no car from the Reynolds family came to pick me up. I took a taxi back to the hillside villa myself. My throat was wrapped in thick bandages. My left hand carried a large bag of anti-inflammatory medication from the hospital. My right hand still ached faintly. The villa was silent. A few maids polishing vases saw me, their eyes evasive, quickly lowering their heads as if seeing something unlucky. I ignored them and went straight upstairs. The moment I pushed open the study door, I froze. This was my private domain, originally filled with my architectural models, blueprints, and that drafting table I’d used for five years. Now the room was empty. Everything was gone, replaced by several huge packing boxes labeled “To Be Cleared.” I rushed over and tore open a box. Inside, my life’s work was stuffed haphazardly. Only the vintage crystal inkwell was missing. I frantically tore open the tape with my fingernails. The boxes were a mess of my heart and soul. Broken models, crumpled design drawings, and carelessly discarded professional books. I searched through every box. The inkwell was gone. That was the bottle I’d used to dip ink and write letters in the dark chamber. Beneath the heavy crystal base, my initials were engraved. It was the only physical evidence that could prove my identity. I grabbed a passing maid, pointing at the empty room, making urgent sounds from my throat. The maid was startled by me and shrank back timidly. “Mr. Hayes ordered the clearing.” “Mr. Hayes said Vivian needed a south-facing studio. This room has the best light, so it was cleared for Miss Vivian.” I stared at her, my hands tracing a square in the air. The maid understood. “You’re looking for that old inkwell?” Her eyes wandered. “Mr. Hayes said even though it’s old, it’s still an antique, so he gave it to Miss Vivian for calligraphy practice.” Gave it to her for practice? My name was engraved on the bottom of that inkwell. If Vivian used it, if she cleaned it, that engraving would be exposed. Then all her lies would collapse. But if she discovered that engraving… She would destroy the evidence. This was my last chance. I pushed past the maid and ran toward the studio at the end of the hallway. Even if I had to fight for it, I had to get that evidence back.

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In the sixth year after I went blind for Adrian, he stepped out of a luxury car with his pregnant wife in his arms. He completely ignored my mom being kicked out of the hospital. He gripped my chin with a cold laugh. “What a pathetic sight. When you abandoned me, did you ever think you’d have a day like this?” I was used to his cruel words, until he turned and scooped up another woman. “There are steps ahead. You can’t see, so I’ll carry you.” I froze. Why was Lily blind too? The person who donated corneas to Adrian was me! Ava’s POV In the sixth year after I went blind for Adrian, I ran into him at the hospital entrance. My vegetative mother and I had been kicked out of the hospital for unpaid bills. Meanwhile, Adrian was helping a radiantly happy Lily out of a luxury car for her prenatal checkup. After six years apart, he suddenly rushed up to me, his voice filled with disbelief. “Ava? You… why didn’t you tell me you went blind?” My whole body stiffened as I clutched my white cane in embarrassment. “It’s none of your business.” Just then, a familiar female voice came from beside me. “Honey, who is it?” Adrian’s tone instantly became incredibly gentle. “Someone unimportant.” Listening to his familiar inflection, my heart felt like it was being pricked with needles, a dense, pervasive pain. He had always been this tender only with people he loved. He lifted Lily into his arms. “There are steps ahead. You can’t see, so I’ll carry you.” I raised my head in shock. Why couldn’t Lily see either? Before I could figure it out, several security guards came running out with batons, barking at me. “What are you still doing here? Get lost!” I immediately shielded my mother’s stretcher behind me. “What right do you have to kick us out? Years ago, I donated my eyes to Adrian, and his mother personally promised that my mom could stay at the hospital for the rest of her life!” The security guards burst out laughing as if they’d heard the joke of the century, spitting at me. “You lying bitch! It was Miss Lily who donated her eyes to Mr. Reed!” “That’s impossible!” My body trembled uncontrollably. A crowd of onlookers gradually gathered around. “This girl looks pretty pitiful. What’s going on?” “Pitiful?” A shrill female voice rang out. “I heard she was Mr. Reed’s mistress for four years, and now that he’s married, she’s pretending to be the benefactor who donated eyes! Everyone knows Miss Lily loved Mr. Reed so deeply she donated her perfectly good eyes without hesitation!” “What a shameless whore!” The vile insults stabbed into my heart like knives, followed by foul-smelling garbage being hurled at me. Suddenly, a worn shoe slammed hard into my forehead. Searing pain shot through me as I cried out through bloody tears. “I’m not! I’m not pretending!” Just then, Adrian, who had turned back, grabbed me by the collar and yanked me up, his voice laced with poison. “What a pathetic sight.” “When you abandoned me, did you ever think you’d have a day like this?” My heart felt like it was being squeezed by an invisible hand, the sourness making my eyes burn. That year, my mother and I were fishing when we found a handsome blind man. He said his name was Adrian Reed and that he’d run away from an arranged marriage. He was irritable and extremely proud, but I happened to have a temper too. The two of us bickered from the moment we met, and somehow, we fell in love. Until our second year together, a wealthy woman found me. “Five million dollars. Leave my son.” That’s when I learned Adrian was the sole heir of the wealthy Reed family, and he’d jumped into the sea to escape his arranged marriage. And now, the Reed family was dragging him back to complete the wedding! The first time Adrian was forced home, he furiously smashed up the entire mansion. The second time they brought him back, he destroyed the house again. The third time, he held a knife to his own throat and declared to everyone. “In this life, I only recognize Ava as mine!” But everything changed the year we graduated from college. Mom was tricked into going to the border, and Adrian had an accident while rescuing her. In the end, Mom became a vegetable, and Adrian nearly lost his life. At the hospital, Adrian’s mother threw money in my face again. “Leave my son! You’re not on the same level. He nearly died for you. He’s done more than enough! Your mother’s in a vegetative state. The medical bills must be astronomical, right?” I understood her implication. “Fine. I’ll leave.” I looked at Adrian lying unconscious in the hospital bed. “I heard… his eyes can be treated, they just need suitable corneas.” I smiled bitterly as tears fell to the floor. “I’ll donate my eyes to him. I don’t want to owe him anything. This way we’ll be even.” Adrian’s mother looked at me with unexpected attention. “Alright. In that case, the Reed family will take care of your mother for the rest of her life.” But in just six short years, she’d completely forgotten about us! “Back then, I promised your mother I’d take good care of you.” Adrian’s voice pulled me back from my thoughts. He gripped my chin, barely concealing his hatred. “You’re coming back with me!” I bit my lip, struggling. “I won’t!” Adrian suddenly laughed. “You don’t have a choice! If your mom doesn’t get back on life support soon, she’ll die.”

Ava’s POV At the mention of my mother, I instantly deflated. I opened my mouth, and after a long moment, forced out a single word. “Fine.” Adrian raised his hand in satisfaction, and the bodyguards behind him immediately carried my mother’s stretcher back to the VIP ward. The late autumn wind scraped across my face. I was so cold I clutched the corner of my coat, my cane trembling slightly in my hand. Until Adrian’s voice rang out again. “Get in the car.” I moved toward his voice, but just as I reached the car, Adrian suddenly stuck out his foot in front of me. “My shoe’s dirty. Clean it.” As he spoke, he casually pulled something from the car and tossed it to me. I caught the long, thick piece of fabric, and suddenly felt a pattern. My breathing came to an abrupt halt. This wasn’t just any fabric-it was the first scarf I’d ever knitted for Adrian, and the only one! A sharp pain lanced through my heart. My eyes burned, but I bit down hard on my lip. “What are you standing there for? Hurry up.” Adrian urged impatiently. I forced down the sourness and crouched down, each wipe feeling like self-torture. After the final swipe, I stood and handed the scarf back to Adrian. He frowned as he took it, didn’t even glance at it, and casually tossed it into a nearby trash can. “Dirty thing. Might as well throw it away.” Along with the scarf, the last remnants of my feelings for Adrian were also tossed into the garbage. I lowered my eyes, hiding my tears. Back at the Reed mansion, Adrian sat on the sofa, mocking me. “Explain. What exactly happened to your eyes? Did you catch some disease messing around abroad and go blind?” The sharp words pierced my heart like needles. I’d long grown used to his harsh tongue, but my heart still contracted painfully beyond my control. I clenched my fists tightly, instinctively shouting. “I didn’t! My eyes were clearly donated to…” Before I could finish, the sound of the door opening came from the entrance. Lily walked in with empty, unfocused eyes, surrounded by several maids. “Lily.” Adrian immediately stood to greet her. “Why didn’t you call me to pick you up?” Lily glanced in my direction with her hollow eyes, which trembled slightly, then smiled weakly. “I can manage on my own.” She paused. “Honey, I think I left the medicine the doctor prescribed in the car. Could you go get it?” Adrian agreed without hesitation. “Sure, I’ll go right now.” As he turned, he didn’t even glance at me and quickly left the living room. The maids tactfully retreated. The moment they were gone, Lily’s previously weak and harmless demeanor vanished. She walked straight up to me and snorted coldly. “Ava, why won’t you just go away?” My body shook. “You’re faking? You can see?” Lily burst out laughing. “That’s right. Thanks to your eyes, I’m now the benefactor who saved Adrian, while you’re just a hypocritical woman who abandoned him for money!” My chest tightened. Trembling, I lunged forward and pinned Lily to the ground, screaming. “How could you do this?” Lily only laughed harder. “I’m warning you. Keep everything that happened back then to yourself. Otherwise, tomorrow will be the day your mom stops breathing!” I suddenly fell silent and collapsed to the floor, releasing my grip. Just then, a brutal force yanked me up. “Ava! What the hell are you doing?” I was thrown down hard. Then Adrian tenderly gathered Lily from the floor into his arms. “Lily, are you okay?” Lily said tearfully and pitifully. “Honey, is she a new maid? I only asked her a few questions and she tried to hit me!” “I…” I tried desperately to explain, but Adrian cut me off. “That’s right, she’s newly hired help.” Adrian’s lips curved up as he shouted at me. “What are you standing there for? Get back to the servants’ quarters!” I flinched in fear-this was the first time Adrian had ever spoken to me so harshly! Late that night, I lay on a cramped bed crying. After a long while, I fumbled for a phone designed for the blind and made a call. “It’s me. You once promised me three favors. Does that still stand?” The voice on the other end immediately responded. “Of course.” I took a deep breath. “First, help me and my mom leave this place. Second, I need ten million dollars. Third…” I paused. “I want Adrian to know the whole truth. I don’t owe him anything!” The voice on the other end didn’t hesitate for a moment. “Alright. Give me one week. I’ll arrange everything.”

Ava’s POV The next day, after being bossed around all morning, I walked into the dining room. A familiar smell hit me, and I stopped in my tracks. Chicken soup! I knew this smell all too well. That year I had a terrible cold and was burning with fever, deliriously mumbling that I wanted my mom’s soup. Adrian panicked and fumbled his way into the kitchen despite being blind, only to get his hands covered in blisters from the stove. When I woke up and saw the injuries on his hands, I was both heartbroken and angry. I could only pull him along, teaching him over and over to recognize ingredients by touch, to judge the heat by sound… When the soup was finally done, he excitedly took my hand. “I learned it! Ava, from now on I’ll only make this for you.” In a daze, I heard Adrian’s voice again. “Lily, does it taste good?” My fingers gripping the cane tightened sharply. Right. He didn’t love me anymore. How could his promises still count? “Ava.” Adrian’s voice suddenly turned cold. “Come serve Lily some soup.” I steadied myself and carefully moved toward the sound, gripping my cane. Following the steam rising from the soup bowl, I found the dining table. My fingertips had just touched the rim when Lily said sweetly. “Thank you. Please be careful.” I frowned and slowly scooped up the soup with a spoon. Just as the spoon was about to reach Lily, I suddenly felt her shift her head slightly. Adrian immediately snapped. “Ava, you’re just blind, not handless! Can’t you even feed someone properly? Hurry up and wipe Lily’s mouth!” I clenched my fists secretly and patiently pulled a tissue from my pocket, fumbling to wipe Lily’s mouth. The moment my fingers touched Lily’s face, she suddenly screamed and jerked away. The soup bowl completely overturned, scalding soup spilling all over me. I gasped sharply. Lily threw herself into Adrian’s arms, her voice breaking with tears. “Honey, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to. It’s just that this maid’s hands are so rough they hurt my face.” Adrian held her, gently patting her back. “Silly girl, no need to apologize. You’ve been pampered since childhood-don’t I know how delicate your skin is?” Lily nuzzled into his embrace. “Honey, stop…” Adrian’s gaze suddenly turned on me, cruel and cutting. “Unlike some people who are born lowly. No amount of money can change that poor fate!” The moment he finished speaking, I felt my heart being violently torn open. My hands really weren’t delicate. I’d worked with my mother fishing by the sea since childhood, weathered by wind and sun, gradually developing calluses on my palms. But the Adrian of the past had held my hands and kissed those calluses tenderly. “How could I ever find them ugly? I only regret not meeting you sooner, letting you suffer so much…” So had he stopped loving me, or had all those words been lies from the very beginning? “Apologize to Lily right now!” Adrian snarled viciously. “I’m sorry…” I dug my nails into my palm, feeling the warmth in my heart gradually dissipate as cold wind howled through, the pain making it almost impossible to breathe. Just then, the phone in my pocket suddenly rang. I grabbed onto it like a lifeline, hastily fumbling to answer. “Is this Miss Ava? This is the hospital. Your mother is showing signs of waking up. Please come as soon as possible.” The words struck like thunder in my ears. Instantly, all the sourness that had built up in my heart vanished. I trembled with excitement. “Really? That’s wonderful… I’ll come right away!” Suddenly, a hand clamped around my wrist. The phone was violently snatched away and smashed on the floor. Adrian gripped me. “You’re not going!”

Ava’s POV “Give me back my phone!” I lunged at him frantically. “What right do you have to stop me? My mom is waking up!” With just a light push, Adrian sent me stumbling to the floor. He looked down at me without an ounce of pity. “You think I’d give you another chance to leave? You’re not going anywhere except here.” I clutched desperately at his pant leg. “Adrian, you can’t do this! That’s my mother!” I cried and pounded on his back. “Please, let me go see her…” But the next second, Adrian violently yanked his pants free, the force making me stagger back and slam hard into the corner of the dining table. “Tired? Let me take you to rest.” He tenderly lifted Lily into his arms and kissed her forehead. As he passed me, his eyes turned brutal. “If you dare make a scene, I’ll turn off your mother’s ventilator right now.” Lily lazily leaned against Adrian and glanced at me triumphantly, saying softly. “Pathetic.” My whole body trembled. Clutching my cane, tears streamed down my face. Heavy rain fell that night. I secretly felt my way to the door, only to find all the exits locked. No. I had to go see my mom… I fumbled to the window and without hesitation grabbed the frame and jumped down. Fortunately it was the first floor. I bit down hard and slowly stood up against the wall, gripping my cane tightly as I headed in the direction I remembered the hospital to be. The rain was too heavy, blurring my hearing and sense of touch. I carefully shuffled forward, constantly murmuring. “Excuse me, which way to the hospital? Please help me…” All along the way, car horns blared constantly. “Are you blind? Can’t you watch where you’re going!” “If you’re blind, don’t go outside!” “I’m sorry…” I kept apologizing. I don’t know how long I walked. Suddenly I tripped, my cane hitting a hard object. Before I could react, my forehead slammed hard into a lamppost. A dull thud, then blunt pain exploded instantly. My vision was already pitch black, but now my ears were ringing and even the surrounding car sounds became muffled. I staggered back two steps, lost my balance and fell to the ground. My knees hit the concrete-another piercing pain. All the grievances and fear completely collapsed in that moment. I couldn’t hold on anymore. I covered my face with both hands, my shoulders shaking violently. In a trance, I remembered when Adrian’s mother talked to me years ago. After returning, I packed my things and moved from our apartment back to my dorm. Unable to sleep that night, I suddenly received a message from Adrian. “Come down. I’m outside your dorm.” I ran downstairs to find Adrian soaked through in the pouring rain, his face covered in obvious scrapes. Through the rain, not knowing how many times he’d fallen, he’d walked step by step to find me! I softened and hugged him. The usually sullen Adrian cried pitifully. “Ava, don’t leave. Without you I’ll go crazy…” Suddenly the sound of an ambulance siren reached my ears. I jerked my head up, joy flooding my heart. I’d actually made it! I quickly scrambled up, but just as I lifted my leg, someone grabbed me. A familiar scent enveloped me. My whole body stiffened. “Well, well. You’ve really grown some nerve, Ava.” Adrian threw me roughly into the car. The door slammed shut with a bang. “Drive!” I frantically pounded on the window. “Let me out! I need to see my mom! Please, Adrian, just one look!” Adrian pressed down hard on my flailing hands and bit down viciously on my lip. “Let go of me!” I kept twisting my body until I tasted thick blood, and only then did Adrian slowly release me. “You like running away so much? Fine.” He wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth, enunciating each word. “Tomorrow you’ll go to the cathedral for Lily and pray.” “Do that, and I’ll let you see your mother.”

Ava’s POV I froze, tears of bitterness streaming down my face. The year Adrian and I first got together, I heard the nearby cathedral’s prayers were especially effective, so without telling him, I went to the cathedral alone early one morning to pray. I only asked God to have mercy and let Adrian regain his sight, to see me with his own eyes. When Adrian found out, he went on a hunger strike for three days, refusing even water, and finally landed himself in the hospital. He gripped my hand desperately, his voice breaking. “Ava, why are you so foolish? Promise me you’ll never go again, okay? I’d rather be blind forever than have you suffer…” But now? He was actually making me walk that path again-for another woman! I raised my hand and roughly wiped my eyes with my sleeve. “Fine. I agree.” The next day, before dawn, I was already standing at the cathedral entrance. Adrian lit a cigarette, and through the swirling smoke, mocked me. “It’s not too late to back out now.” I ignored him, gripping my cane, and slowly began. The cathedral’s prayer bells rang, as if returning me to years ago. My eyes had been full of hope then. “May the one I love regain his sight soon…” But this time, I closed my eyes. “I only ask to have nothing more to do with Adrian Reed.” Many passersby walked past the cathedral, curious and pitying gazes constantly falling on me. “This girl is blind, right? What’s she praying for so devoutly?” “Isn’t it obvious? She must be praying for sight.” “Maybe her love life is rough and she’s praying for romance?” I ignored them all, mechanically repeating my actions. An elderly priest happened to come out. He remembered me. Seeing my bedraggled state, he could only pray with compassion. “May the Lord bless you. I hope you can escape this suffering soon.” I pulled my lips into an ugly smile, my voice weak. “You’re teasing me again…” By afternoon, I was so exhausted I was nearly ready to pass out, but images of my mother lying in a hospital bed kept flashing through my mind. “Ava, almost there. You’re almost there…” My legs trembling, I took the cross the priest handed me. In that instant, the small cross felt as heavy as a branding iron, burning my palm. I fumbled to stand, staggering down the mountain. The path down was even harder than going up. By the time I returned to the Reed mansion, it was deep into the night. I was covered in mud, utterly disheveled. Voices drifted faintly from the living room. I paused mid-step, instinctively lightening my movements as I headed toward the sound. “Her mother’s been responding well to the new medication lately.” Adrian’s cold voice filtered through the half-open door. Joy leaped in my chest. Suddenly nothing hurt anymore. But the next second, Adrian sneered coldly. “Stop using it. Switch back to the old one. Just keep her alive. It doesn’t matter if she never wakes up.” “Only if Ava’s mother stays in the hospital forever will Ava obediently do what I say for the rest of her life.” How dare he do this! I slammed the door open, the force making it crash against the wall with a loud bang.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “369538”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster #现实主义Realistic #惊悚Thriller #浪漫Romance #重生Reborn

Sixteen years ago, my uncle gifted me a studio apartment. Today, its value has skyrocketed to $8.65 million. My uncle suddenly called, saying he urgently needed $3.4 million for a crisis. I was a bit hesitant; after all, it’s a massive amount of money. Unexpectedly, my husband jumped in before I could speak: “When your uncle gave you that condo back then, he definitely wasn’t expecting anything in return, right?” I nodded. He sneered: “Then what right does he have to ask you for money now? “What he gave you back then is yours. Now that the property is worth a fortune, he wants to leech off it? Keep dreaming!” I froze completely. And my uncle, on the other end of the line, heard every single word. 1 A dead silence fell over the phone line. That silence, transmitted through the receiver, was like a freezing steel needle piercing straight into my eardrum. Every second felt like being roasted in boiling oil. I could imagine how my uncle’s honest, good-natured face must have turned ashen in that instant. “Uncle…” I forced the word out, my throat feeling like it was stuffed with waterlogged cotton. Beep. The call was disconnected. It wasn’t an angry slam of the phone, but the kind of disconnect where the phone simply slips from powerless fingers. My hand was still frozen in mid-air, the phone screen already dark. The bright lights in the living room now made me shiver with cold. Arthur, my husband, the man I had shared a bed with for five years, sat on the sofa opposite me. His face showed not a sliver of guilt; he even looked somewhat smug. “See? Hangs up the moment I call him out. Guilty conscience.” He picked up an apple from the coffee table and took a huge bite, the crisp sound echoing in the room. “I’m doing this for your own good, Chloe.” “You’re just too soft-hearted, too easily swayed.” “These poor relatives, they just see you living well now, your property worth a fortune, and think they can come looking for a handout.” “Today he has the nerve to ask for three point four million. Tomorrow he’ll ask for more.” “It’s a bottomless pit, and we are not jumping in.” Every word he said was like a poisoned knife, accurately stabbing the softest part of my heart. I looked at him. This face that I once thought was incredibly handsome and reliable now seemed so foreign, so ugly. “Arthur, that’s my uncle.” My voice was trembling, carrying an anger I hadn’t even realized I possessed. “When my parents passed away, all my relatives avoided me like the plague.” “It was my uncle. He emptied his life savings to buy me this condo, just to give me a roof over my head.” “That kind of grace can’t be measured with money.” Arthur scoffed, casually tossing the apple core into the trash can. “Grace? Can grace put food on the table?” “Wake up, Chloe! What kind of society do we live in now? You’re still hung up on that sentimental nonsense?” “When he bought you that condo, how much was it worth? A couple hundred grand, tops.” “And now? Eight point six five million!” His eyes gleamed with greed. The number coming from his mouth carried a scorching heat. “He’s trying to use a couple hundred grand investment to cash out over eight million from us.” “He’s got it all figured out, hasn’t he?” I felt all the blood in my body rush to my head in an instant. So in his eyes, my uncle’s kindness was nothing more than a calculated investment. “Us?” I caught the specific word he used, a chill rising from the soles of my feet. “Arthur, this condo is my pre-marital asset.” His face darkened instantly. “Chloe, what is that supposed to mean?” “We are husband and wife. Isn’t what’s yours also mine?” “Have I not worked hard for this family? Do I get no credit?” He started listing all his “sacrifices” over the years. Going to work every day, accompanying me to visit my family during the holidays. He even painted himself as a peerless, devoted husband who worked tirelessly for our family without complaint. But I only felt a deep sense of irony. We’ve been married for five years, and I’ve borne the brunt of the household expenses. Because my salary is higher than his. As for his money, in his words, “A man needs to socialize and save up for big things.” Now, he was starting to dream about that eight point six five million. “Once we sell this place, we’ll upgrade to a big mansion in the Southside, the kind with a garden.” “And we’ll buy a starter home downtown for my brother. He’s not getting any younger.” “With the rest, we’ll put it in savings, and that covers our future kids’ college funds.” He planned it out so naturally. As if my uncle’s existence was solely to provide him and his family with a more luxurious life. My heart went completely cold. This man, whom I had loved for five years, who I thought would be my rock for life. In the end, in his world, family ties, gratitude, everything paled in comparison to a fraction of that money. I didn’t want to argue with him anymore. Any words felt pale and powerless in the face of such naked greed. I turned, walked into the bedroom, and closed the door. Shutting out all his filthy words. I dug out an old photo album from the deepest part of my nightstand. The cover of the album was yellowed, the edges frayed. On the very first page was a photo of me and my uncle. I was sixteen that year, having just lost my parents, as thin as a reed. I wore an ill-fitting school uniform, my eyes full of fear and confusion. My uncle stood beside me, his rough, broad hand wrapped tightly around my shoulder. His face showed unconcealable exhaustion, but the look he gave me was full of determination and tenderness. The background of the photo was the very studio apartment I was living in now. Back then, this place was just a barren construction site. But my uncle pointed at the site and said to me: “Chloe, don’t be afraid. This will be your home from now on.” Tears, without any warning, smashed onto the photo album, blurring a small patch. The bedroom door was violently pushed open. Arthur barged in, reeking of alcohol. “Chloe, I’m warning you, you are not allowed to contact that uncle of yours again!” His face was flushed, his eyes fierce. “And don’t you dare bring up money! Not a single word!” “If you dare give him money behind my back, we are done!” I looked at him coldly. “Arthur, what gives you the right?” He was enraged by my glare, his voice sharply rising. “What gives me the right? Because I’m your husband!” “Everything you eat, wear, and use, what isn’t provided by our Vance family?” “You’re just an orphan with no parents! If I hadn’t been blind enough to marry you, who knows where you’d be drifting right now!” “Do you really think you’re some city socialite?” “Let me tell you, not a single one of those poor beggars from your side of the family is getting a dime from me!” Every sentence was like a resounding slap, landing hard on my face. So, in his heart, I was always just that orphan who had nothing. All my value was attached to that constantly appreciating piece of real estate. I looked at him and suddenly laughed. That laughter even felt strange to myself—shrill, yet full of desolation. This night was destined to be sleepless. I kept my eyes open, staring at the ceiling until the first glimmer of dawn peeked through the window. I made a decision. No matter what, I had to help my uncle. Even if it meant selling this condo. 2 The next day, the doorbell rang urgently and loudly. Through the peephole, I saw my mother-in-law, Martha’s, face etched with anxiety. I knew Arthur’s “reinforcements” had arrived. I opened the door, and Martha shoved past me, charging straight in. “Oh, my poor boy, what happened to you? You look awful.” She grabbed Arthur’s hand, looking him up and down as if he had suffered a massive grievance. Arthur immediately played along, putting on an exhausted and helpless expression. Martha turned her head, her gaze landing on me like a spotlight. “Chloe, I heard.” “Your uncle wants to borrow money from you?” The probing in her tone was as sharp as a needle. I gave a flat “Mm.” “How much?” “Over three million.” Martha gasped, her voice instantly becoming shrill. “Over three million? Why doesn’t he just go rob a bank!” “He’s trying to drain our family dry!” I looked at her coldly: “Mom, that’s my uncle, not a stranger.” “And, he just needs it to turn things around. It’s not like he won’t pay it back.” Martha plopped onto the sofa and started slapping her thigh, wailing. “What ‘turn things around’? When poor relatives borrow money, it’s like throwing meat buns at a dog—it never comes back!” “Chloe, oh Chloe, you can’t be so heartless!” “You’ve married into our Vance family now! Everything you have belongs to the Vance family!” “That condo of yours, even though you bought it before we got married, you married our Arthur, so it’s our family’s property too!” Her logic was literally the logic of a robber. I laughed out of sheer anger. “Mom, that’s really interesting.” “Since when did my condo become your family’s property?” Seeing I wasn’t buying it, Martha immediately changed her tune. She stopped crying, a shrewd, calculating look appearing on her face. “Chloe, let’s do this.” “Just to be safe, and to make your uncle completely give up.” “Add Arthur’s name to the property deed.” “That way, this condo becomes our joint marital property, and it won’t be so easy for him to scheme for it.” Finally, she showed her true colors. This was the real reason she came today. I refused without hesitation. “Impossible.” My one word was like a bucket of cold water, extinguishing her scheming. Martha’s face instantly turned a deep shade of purple. “You! You ungrateful wretch!” “Our Vance family must have had eight lifetimes of bad luck to marry a traitor like you!” Arthur, who had been silent on the side, finally found an opportunity to interject. He stood up, walked over to me, and looked down at me from a commanding height. “Chloe, what exactly do you take me and my mom for?” “We are a family!” “Why divide yours and mine in a family?” “You guarding against us like this, have you already planned your way out?” Every accusation he made felt like he was slapping a label of selfishness onto me. I was trembling with anger. “A family?” “My uncle is waiting for life-saving money right now, and what did you guys do?” “Have you treated them like family for even a second?” Martha jumped up from the sofa, pointing at my nose and cursing. “Whether your uncle’s son lives or dies, what does it have to do with our Vance family?” “Why should we use our own money to fill their bottomless pit?” That sentence was like a thunderclap exploding in my brain. I looked at the mother and son in front of me, at their self-righteous, cold-blooded, and ruthless faces. For the first time, I truly, genuinely entertained the thought of divorce. This home was not my home. They were not my family. They were just two leeches entrenched on my property, vainly attempting to suck me dry of my last drop of blood. I took a deep breath, suppressing the surging nausea in my stomach. “Get out.” My voice wasn’t loud, but it carried unquestionable resolve. Arthur and Martha were both stunned. They probably never expected that the usually docile me would say such a thing. “What did you say?” Arthur’s eyes widened. “I said, get out of my condo.” I enunciated every word clearly. Martha reacted and tried to lunge at me, throwing a tantrum. “You little bitch, you dare kick me out! I’ll beat you to death!” I sidestepped to avoid her and used all my strength to push them both toward the door. Arthur was still trying to reason, or rather, threaten me. “Chloe, you’re crazy! You’re going to sever ties with us over an outsider?” I didn’t answer. I just forcefully shoved them out the door. Then, with a loud bang, I slammed the door shut. I turned the key and deadbolted it. The world was finally quiet. I leaned against the cold door, my body sliding down uncontrollably. Yet a voice inside me told me with absolute clarity: This condo, this last shred of dignity, no one is going to take it away. 3 I sat on the cold floor until my legs went numb. After calming down, the first thing I did was return my uncle’s call. The phone rang for a long time before it was answered. “Hello?” It was my aunt’s voice, thick with a nasal tone and exhaustion. “Auntie, it’s me, Chloe.” “Where’s Uncle?” The line was silent for a moment before my uncle’s hoarse voice came through. “Chloe.” “Uncle is fine, don’t worry.” “Yesterday… I was out of line. Don’t fight with your husband over it.” He was still thinking of me. My eyes instantly welled up. “Uncle, please don’t say that.” “I’m the one who’s sorry.” “What exactly happened? You have to tell me.” Under my persistent questioning, my uncle finally told me the truth. My cousin, Leo, was diagnosed with acute leukemia. He needed an immediate bone marrow transplant. A match had been found, but the exorbitant $3.4 million surgical fee was like a mountain crushing this already modest family. “…Your cousin is still young, only twenty-five…” My uncle’s voice choked up. “The doctor said as long as we have the money, the success rate of the surgery is very high…” On my end of the line, I was already in tears. That was life-saving money. And I, because of Arthur’s bastard words, had wasted precious time. Guilt and self-blame drowned me like a tidal wave. “Uncle, don’t worry.” I wiped my tears, my voice carrying a firmness that even surprised me. “I’ll figure out the money.” “I will definitely get the money together for you in the shortest possible time.” Hanging up, I immediately opened my mobile banking app to check the joint account Arthur and I shared. But when I saw the balance, I was completely stunned. $36,217. We had been married for five years, and our combined salaries were over $30,000 a month. Minus daily expenses and the mortgage, we should have had at least a seven-figure sum saved up over five years. But now, there was only this fraction left. My heart sank, inch by inch. I called Arthur immediately. When the call connected, his voice still carried anger. “What? Figured it out? Ready to apologize to my mom?” I ignored his blustering and asked directly: “Where is the money in our joint account?” Arthur clearly paused. “What money? Isn’t it all in the card?” “Arthur, I’ll ask you one more time. Where did the money go?” My voice was ice-cold. He probably sensed something was wrong with me and started stammering. “It… it didn’t go anywhere…” “It’s just… my brother needed to buy a car a while ago, so I helped him out a bit.” “Also, my parents’ old house in the hometown needed renovating, so I took some money for that too…” “We’re all family, there’s no need to draw such a clear line…” My heart felt like it was being sliced open with a dull knife, cut by cut. So that was it. So the money I had worked so hard to save had become his capital to subsidize his original family. He used my money to play the role of the “filial son” and “good brother” for his family. Yet, when my uncle’s family was waiting for life-saving money, he spouted those cold-blooded, vicious words. I finally understood. In his heart, we were never a family. I was just an outsider, a host providing flesh and blood for him and his family. This realization struck me like lightning, leaving me freezing cold. I couldn’t rely on him. There was only one way left. Sell this apartment. I opened my laptop and started searching for real estate agents online. This place, which held all my youth and memories, my only sanctuary. Now, it was going to be used to save another family member’s life. I think, if this condo had feelings, it would support me too. My actions were quickly discovered by Arthur. Probably through my computer’s browsing history. He stormed into the study like an enraged lion. “Chloe! Don’t you dare!” He pointed at the agent’s contact info on the screen, his eyes bloodshot. “Let me tell you, don’t even think about selling this condo!” “Don’t even dream about it!” I looked up and met his gaze calmly. “Arthur, we’re done.” My relationship with him had completely hit rock bottom from the moment he insulted my uncle. And now, we were in the abyssal depths below that rock bottom. 4 Arthur and my mother-in-law, in an effort to stop me from selling the condo, started a ridiculous farce. They shadowed me constantly. If I went to the bathroom, my mother-in-law would stand guard at the door. If I went to the kitchen for water, Arthur would follow right behind me. They acted like two prison guards, watching me as if I were a hardened criminal. What’s worse, they confiscated my ID card, my household register, and the original property deed. “Chloe, let’s see how you sell the condo without these!” Arthur locked the documents in a safe, the smugness of a victor on his face. My mother-in-law chimed in from the side: “Exactly, let’s see what you can do now!” “Just stay home quietly and stop thinking about all that nonsense.” They thought this would give them complete control over me. I didn’t resist. I didn’t even argue with them. I just watched them silently, like watching a comical play. My submission made them lower their guard. They thought I had finally yielded and started flaunting their power in front of me. They mocked me every day, their words full of contempt and humiliation. “An orphan with no parents, really thinking she’s a big deal.” “If it weren’t for our Arthur, you’d still be living in some rundown shack.” “Now that your wings have grown a bit, you want to kick our Vance family to the curb?” I listened silently, etching all of this into my memory. But my eyes grew colder day by day. What they didn’t know was that I had reported my ID card lost and gotten a replacement a long time ago. The new ID card was lying quietly in a hidden compartment of a canvas tote bag I used often. They also didn’t know that for something as important as a property deed, how could I not have a backup plan? Copies, the purchase contract, all the relevant documents—I had backups of everything, hidden in a place they would never think of. I used the time when Arthur was at work and my mother-in-law was out grocery shopping to secretly meet with several real estate agents. I chose a middle-aged woman who looked the most professional and reliable. I laid out my situation entirely. After listening, the agent was filled with righteous indignation. “Girl, don’t you worry.” “I’ve seen this kind of thing plenty of times.” “Not having the original deed is a bit of a hassle, but it’s not completely impossible.” “As long as you have the purchase contract and your ID, we can sign an exclusive listing agreement first.” “I’ll help you navigate the rest of the process slowly.” Guided by the agent, I prepared all the necessary listing materials. Arthur and his mother were completely oblivious to this. They were still reveling in the thrill of controlling everything. Watching their smug faces, I felt no anger, only a bone-chilling coldness. That afternoon, while my mother-in-law was taking a nap and Arthur hadn’t finished work yet, I slipped out of the house and signed the exclusive listing agreement with the agent. The moment I signed my name. I knew my counterattack had officially begun. The first step went even smoother than I had imagined. 5 The process of selling the condo was slower than I expected. With every passing day, the anxiety in my heart grew. I was afraid my cousin’s illness couldn’t wait. To speed things up, the agent asked me to find all the old documents related to the condo to see if anything could be used. I dug out a dusty old leather suitcase. This was given to me by my uncle when we moved. He said it was just some unimportant old stuff and told me to put it away. For sixteen years, I had never opened it. I blew the dust off the suitcase and opened the rusted latch. Inside was a thick stack of documents. The original purchase contract, tax invoices, and some miscellaneous receipts. I carefully flipped through them. Hoping to find some useful clues. Just as I picked up the yellowing purchase contract, a folded piece of letter paper fell out from between the pages. The envelope was yellow and brittle, with no name on it. With a bit of confusion, I opened it with trembling hands. The familiar handwriting instantly brought tears to my eyes. It was my uncle’s handwriting. “Chloe, when you read this letter, Uncle might not be around anymore. There are some things I wanted to take to the grave, but after thinking about it, you deserve to know the truth.” My heart seized violently. Fighting back tears, I continued reading. The contents of the letter struck me like a bolt of lightning, splitting my entire being. It turned out that sixteen years ago, when my parents died in that car accident, the party at fault paid $1.2 million in compensation. In that era, this was an astronomical sum. But this money was completely divided up by my so-called relatives, like a pack of hungry wolves. They said I was a girl, destined to marry into another family, a financial burden, and didn’t deserve a penny of it. They said the money should be left for the male heirs of the family to carry on the bloodline. My uncle was just an ordinary worker back then, weak and outnumbered. He fought with them, argued with them, risked his life, and only managed to snatch back $300,000 from the wolves’ mouths. But my uncle felt that this was money bought with my parents’ lives. It was stained with blood and brought bad luck. He didn’t want this money to cast a shadow over my childhood. So, he made a decision. He took out his own hard-earned savings, half a lifetime’s worth, a full $200,000. He combined it with the $300,000, making $500,000. He paid entirely in cash to buy this studio apartment for me. He put the property in my name but told me he “gifted” it to me. He wanted to use this method to erase that ugly past. He wanted me to think that what I received was a pure love, devoid of any impurities. At the end of the letter, my uncle wrote: “Chloe, this is the last memento your parents left you, and it’s all Uncle can do for you.” “No matter what happens in the future, no matter what grievances you suffer, you must remember that this is your home.” “As long as you have this home, you have a foundation.” The letter slipped from my trembling hands. I could no longer control myself and burst into loud sobs. So that was it. This condo was never a gift. It was an inheritance bought with my parents’ lives. It was a sanctuary my uncle built for me with half his life’s blood, sweat, and tears. Hidden within it was the heavy love of my parents and the deepest protection of my uncle. And now, Arthur and Martha, this mother-and-son pair of executioners. What they wanted to snatch was not just a piece of real estate. They wanted to snatch my parents’ legacy, my uncle’s grace, my only root in this world. New grudges and old hatreds all surged into my heart in an instant. My tears slowly dried up. My gaze shifted from endless sorrow to a bone-deep coldness. Arthur, Martha. I’m not just going to win this battle. I’m going to win it spectacularly and make you pay the most agonizing price for your greed and shamelessness.

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I had just clipped the last shirt onto the drying rack when the doorbell rang. Little Zhao from property management stood at the door, pinching a complaint form in his hand. “Ms. Davis, someone reported you for unauthorized drying again.” I poked my head out to look at the balcony. Three shirts, two pairs of pants, one bedsheet. The drying rack was provided by the developer, and the balcony was enclosed. “What’s unauthorized about it?” Little Zhao scratched his head and lowered his voice: “Ms. Money on the fifth floor says the bedsheet you hung is too big. People can see it from downstairs, and it affects the aesthetic of the community.” I live on the seventh floor with an enclosed balcony. Martha Money lives on the fifth floor. What angle did she have to twist her neck to see what I was drying? “Ms. Davis, please do me a favor and take it down.” Little Zhao had a bitter expression. “She can call twelve times a day.” Twelve times. I silently took down the shirts and the pants. The bedsheet was too big; I had to fold it twice to stuff it into the basin. That night, I spread the wet clothes over the back of a chair in my bedroom and closed the window. The whole room felt damp. Martha Money didn’t know that the solar energy system on the roof of this very building she complained about— I designed it. And I paid for it out of my own pocket. 01 After Little Zhao left, I tossed the complaint form into a drawer. There were already seven forms accumulated in that drawer. The earliest one was from three months ago. The content: Seventh-floor resident placed a shoe rack in the public corridor, obstructing passage. My shoe rack is 12 inches wide. The corridor is 6 feet wide. Property management posted a rectification notice, and I moved the shoe rack inside. The second one, two months ago. Content: Seventh-floor resident keeps a pet, suspected of not having a dog license. I have a cat. Cats don’t need dog licenses. But property management still knocked on my door and asked me to show a “pet registration certificate.” I spent half a day going to the community center to get the certificate. The third one, a month and a half ago. Content: Seventh-floor resident making noise late at night, disturbing the peace. That day, I worked overtime until eleven o’clock and came home to take a shower. I used the hairdryer for eight minutes. Martha Money said I woke her up. I live on the seventh floor. She lives on the fifth floor. There are two floors between us. The complaints that followed got increasingly ridiculous. Saying I watered flowers on my balcony and the water dripped onto her windowsill. An enclosed balcony—how did the water drip down two floors? Saying my cat’s meowing was too loud. My cat is a British Shorthair, with a personality just like mine—a quiet type. Saying I leave early and come back late every day, acting suspiciously. Property management was too embarrassed to show me that last complaint. Little Zhao told me privately and told me not to take it to heart. I really didn’t take it to heart. I just didn’t understand— Why was Martha Money targeting me? Mrs. Young helped clear my confusion. Mrs. Young lives on the sixth floor, right between me and Martha Money. One day after work, I ran into her in the elevator. She pulled my arm and whispered: “Chloe, did you offend Martha Money?” I shook my head. “I haven’t even spoken five sentences to her in total.” Mrs. Young sighed. “Then there’s no reason. That’s just how she is. She bullies whoever she can catch.” Mrs. Young said that before retiring, Martha Money worked at a service window for a local neighborhood committee. She did it for over twenty years and developed a habit— She had to manage everything and control everyone. After she retired and had no one to manage, she treated the whole building as her territory. “Last year, little Liu on the fourth floor was forced out by her just three months after moving in.” Mrs. Young lowered her voice. “They just put a stroller in the hallway. She reported them every day and made passive-aggressive comments in the homeowners’ group chat, saying things like, ‘Some people have low class. If they can’t afford to live in a nice community, they shouldn’t force their way in.’” “Liu’s wife had just given birth and cried from anger. In the end, they rented out the apartment and moved away.” I didn’t say anything. Mrs. Young patted the back of my hand. “Don’t take it too seriously. She’s just like that. Everyone just humors her.” Humors her. I’ve heard these three words no less than ten times. Little Zhao said: Humor her. She’ll stop when she’s had enough. Manager Liu from property management said: Ms. Money is just overly enthusiastic. Don’t take it to heart. Even my mom said on the phone: A close neighbor is better than a distant relative. Just endure it. I looked at the seven complaint forms in my drawer and arranged them by date. Endure it. Okay. 02 The eighth complaint came sooner than I expected. Saturday morning at nine o’clock, I was cooking noodles in the kitchen. The doorbell rang. This time it wasn’t Little Zhao; it was Manager Liu in person. Martha Money stood behind him. Martha Money is in her early fifties, with permed, reddish-brown curly hair. She was wearing a purple embroidered jacket and a gold necklace. Her arms were crossed over her chest, her chin slightly raised. That posture was all too familiar. The standard stance of a complaint window clerk. “Comrade Chloe Davis,” Manager Liu cleared his throat, “Ms. Money reported that your cat defecated in the hallway, affecting public sanitation.” “My cat never leaves the apartment.” “Then where did that lump in the hallway come from?” Martha Money pulled up a photo on her phone. I took a look. It was a grayish-black lump in the stairwell corner between the sixth and seventh floors. “Is this cat poop?” I asked. “If it’s not cat poop, what is it?” Martha Money’s voice rose. “Mud.” I pointed at the photo and zoomed in. “Look, there are crushed leaves in here.” “Last week, when the roof water pipe was repaired, a worker tracked mud down.” “Little Zhao even sent a notice in the homeowners’ group chat that day.” Martha Money’s face stiffened for a second. But only for a second. “That still doesn’t prove your cat hasn’t pooped in the hallway!” She turned to Manager Liu. “Did you investigate? Did you test it?” Manager Liu stood in the middle, looking back and forth. Finally, he coughed. “Ms. Davis, how about you send the cat to a pet store for boarding? It would save us from having constant disputes.” I heard him right. She falsely accused me, and the conclusion was that I had to send my cat away. “No.” Martha Money glared: “What kind of attitude is that?” “My attitude is very good. The cat stays. If there’s nothing else, I’m going to continue cooking my noodles.” I closed the door. The noodles were already mushy. I thought she would calm down for a few days. She didn’t. Coming home from work on Monday, Mrs. Young was waiting for me at the building entrance. She didn’t look well. “Chloe, you should check the homeowners’ group chat.” I opened my phone. The group chat had exploded. Martha Money had sent a long message, over three hundred words, every word a vicious attack: “Neighbors, it’s not that I’m being nosy. Ever since that young woman on the seventh floor moved in, our building hasn’t had a day of peace. She keeps a cat without closing her windows, and its meowing disturbs everyone. She piles junk in the hallway, and her shoe rack blocks the way. She blows her hair in the middle of the night, making the whole building vibrate. As a senior resident, what’s wrong with me making a suggestion? She slammed the door right in my face. I’m a woman in my fifties being bullied by a young person. Is no one going to do anything about this?” Over three hundred words, and not a single one was true. But people in the group were already replying. “Don’t be angry, Ms. Money. Young people don’t know any better.” “Yeah, Ms. Money worries so much about our building.” “I’ve seen that girl on the seventh floor. She’s cold as ice, not easy to get along with.” I scrolled to the last message. It was from old Mr. Zhou on the third floor. “Ms. Money is right. In an old community like ours, we have to rely on enthusiastic neighbors to manage things, otherwise it’ll be chaos.” I placed my phone on my lap. There were forty-seven people in the group. Eleven had replied, uniformly taking her side. Thirty-five remained silent. Not a single person spoke up for me. Not one. Mrs. Young sighed beside me. “I wanted to say something to help you, but…” “It’s fine.” I cut her off. “Mrs. Young, it’s really fine.” She looked at me hesitantly, but eventually walked away. I stood at the building entrance and read the group messages one more time. Then I exited the homeowners’ group chat. That night, I opened my laptop and pulled up the backend of the roof solar energy system. All operating data was normal. Sixty-two monocrystalline silicon panels, with a total installed capacity of 18.6 kilowatts. The energy storage battery pack had a capacity of 50 kilowatt-hours. It was connected to the entire building’s public lighting and hot water circulation system. Every household saved three to five hundred dollars a month on electricity. This was the plan I personally designed two years ago. Material costs, installation fees, grid connection fees—it cost forty-three thousand dollars in total. The company subsidized twenty thousand, and I paid the remaining twenty-three thousand myself. Because this was an extension project for my graduation thesis. Demonstration Project of Distributed Photovoltaic Retrofit in Old Residential Communities. I needed real operational data to complete my follow-up paper. When I initially went to talk to property management, Manager Liu readily agreed the moment he heard they didn’t have to pay anything. My only condition was— Reserve an installation spot on the roof for my data collection terminal. The agreement was signed, the system was installed, and the entire building’s public electricity bill dropped by sixty percent. But from beginning to end, property management never mentioned to the residents who installed this system. The owners only knew that “the community upgraded to solar energy.” They didn’t know I provided the money, drew the blueprints, and supervised the construction. I closed my laptop. I hadn’t planned on telling anyone about this. Research is research, neighbors are neighbors. I’m not the kind of person who exchanges favors for gratitude. But tonight, looking at those comments in the group chat, I suddenly felt— I might have been too polite to this building. 03 Martha Money had tasted sweetness. The vocal support from the homeowners’ group made her even more self-righteous. Three days after I left the group, she did something. Something that completely crossed my bottom line. That day after work, I went home as usual. When I got to the seventh floor, I found a piece of paper taped to my door. A sheet of A4 paper, handwritten with a thick black marker. It had a few large words: “PLEASE BE CIVILIZED WHEN KEEPING PETS!!!” Three exclamation marks, each one pressed so hard it indented the paper. The paper was taped right in the middle of my security door with clear tape. When I peeled it off, it took a piece of paint with it. I crumpled the paper into a ball and threw it in the trash can. As I walked in, I smelled a pungent odor. I looked down. A layer of white powder was sprinkled on the doormat. I crouched down and sniffed it. Mothballs. Crushed mothball powder. Cats are allergic to camphor. Inhaling too much can cause poisoning. I rushed into the apartment. Pudding was curled up on the sofa, sleeping. He is a three-year-old British Shorthair with grayish-blue fur, a round face, and round eyes, as fat as a furball. I picked him up and checked him all over. No abnormalities. The camphor powder on the doormat was blocked outside when I closed the door; it hadn’t drifted inside. I went back out, rolled up the doormat, and threw it in the trash. Then I crouched in the hallway, using a wet rag to wipe the floor inch by inch. I wiped for twenty minutes. My knees ached from kneeling. Halfway through wiping, the elevator doors opened. Martha Money came out to take out the trash. She saw me crouching on the floor wiping, a faint smile on the corners of her mouth. “Oh, if it isn’t little Chloe from the seventh floor.” “Wiping the hallway? That’s the way. If you keep a cat, you have to be diligent.” She walked past me carrying the trash bag, her slippers stepping over the floor I had just wiped clean. Leaving two dusty footprints. I didn’t look up. I didn’t look at her. And I didn’t speak. I just wrung out the rag again and wiped away those two footprints. Martha Money came back after throwing away the trash and passed by me again. This time she stopped for two seconds, looking down at me. “Young people should do more work. It’s good for you.” “It’s better than serving a cat like it’s your ancestor all day long.” She finished speaking, walked into the elevator, and pressed the button for the fifth floor. The elevator doors closed. The hallway went quiet. I gripped the rag tightly, my nails digging into my palms. That night, I gave Pudding a physical exam. All his vitals were normal. But I still wasn’t relieved. I spent an hour online looking up the symptoms of camphor poisoning. Vomiting, convulsions, liver damage. In severe cases, death. She was genuinely trying to harm my cat. It wasn’t a report; it wasn’t a complaint. It was deliberate harm. I sat on the sofa holding Pudding. He nuzzled his head into the crook of my arm like usual. Purring loudly. I’ve had him for three years. From when he was a month old and smaller than my palm, until now. I have no friends and no relatives in this city. My parents are back in our hometown; I see them once a year. My relationships with colleagues are superficial; after work, we all go our separate ways. Every day when I return to this 650-square-foot apartment, only Pudding is at the door waiting for me. He doesn’t mind that I don’t talk much, doesn’t mind that I’m boring. If I work overtime until midnight, he just lies quietly in the entryway. Only lifting his head when he hears the key turning, slowly walking over to rub against my ankles. He is my family. Martha Money doesn’t know this. And she doesn’t care. In her eyes, I am just a young tenant who is easy to bully. I don’t argue, I don’t cause trouble, I just take it. She was wrong. I don’t just take it. I just don’t want to waste time on people who aren’t worth it. But she touched Pudding. That changes things. The next day, I did three things. First: I installed a twenty-dollar security camera at my door. The recording angle covered the entire hallway. Second: I put weather stripping around my doorframe to prevent powder from drifting in. Third: I opened my phone and ordered a new smart lock online. Fingerprint and passcode dual lock. The installation technician asked what to do with the old lock. I said throw it away. Pudding lay on the shoe cabinet, watching me change the lock. His round eyes unblinking. “Don’t be afraid.” I patted his head. “I’ll protect you.” 04 On the third day after the camera was installed, it caught Martha Money. At 6:12 AM. She walked up from the fifth floor wearing pajamas, carrying a plastic bag. She squatted at my door, took something out of the bag, and sprinkled it on my doormat. The whole process took forty-seven seconds. Captured clearly. I took screenshots and saved the original video. I didn’t make a fuss. That same afternoon, the ninth complaint form arrived. This time, the content made me laugh. “Seventh-floor resident privately installed a camera in the public corridor, invading neighbors’ privacy.” When Little Zhao handed me the form, he looked very troubled. “Ms. Davis, Ms. Money says she’s going to go to the media.” “Let her.” “Huh?” “I installed the camera because someone was placing hazardous substances at my door.” I showed Little Zhao the video on my phone. Just one glance, for two seconds. Little Zhao’s face turned pale. “This… this is too much…” “I’m not pursuing this matter for now.” I took my phone back. “But the camera stays.” “If she feels uncomfortable being filmed, she doesn’t have to come to the seventh floor.” Little Zhao’s legs were shaking when he left. A twenty-three-year-old guy, on the job for less than a year, caught in the middle and taking heat from both sides. I felt a bit sorry for him, but I couldn’t help him. I thought having video evidence would make Martha Money back off. She didn’t. She just changed her approach. On Wednesday night, in the homeowners’ group chat—yes, even though I had left the group, Mrs. Young would forward messages to me—Martha Money posted an even longer message: “Just a heads up to all neighbors, the woman on the seventh floor installed a camera in the hallway! It’s pointed at the elevator and stairwell! Whatever you’re wearing when you go out is being recorded! Those of you with elderly people or children at home, be careful. Who knows what she’s going to do with those recordings. Young people these days are very scheming.” The chat blew up. “What? Installed a camera? That’s too much!” “Who gave her permission? Isn’t property management going to do something?” “Isn’t this an invasion of privacy? We can call the police now.” “I walk past the seventh floor every day, was I recorded?” Seventeen replies, and not a single person asked why she installed it. Not a single person thought— Why would a young woman living alone spend twenty dollars to install a camera at her door? Martha Money added another message in the group: “I heard that last time property management went to talk to her, her attitude was terrible and she slammed the door right in their faces. Our community doesn’t have room for people like this!” Mrs. Young forwarded the screenshot to me and added: “Chloe, maybe you should explain in the group?” Explain what? Explain that she sprinkled mothball powder at my door to poison my cat? What if she denies it? Post the video? And then what? She’ll cry, say she’s old and confused, and ask everyone to judge whether it’s right for a young person to be so hard on a woman in her fifties. I’ve seen this script too many times. In the end, she would be the “overly enthusiastic elderly person.” And I would be the “petty young person.” No explaining. No arguing back. No posting the video. It’s not time yet. “Mrs. Young, thank you. I’m fine.” I replied with that single sentence, then placed my phone face down on the table. Pudding jumped onto the table and rubbed his head against my hand. I stroked his back. One stroke, two strokes. I was calculating a debt in my head. 05 Martha Money’s tenth report finally moved from online to offline. The neighborhood committee organized a “Civilized Building” evaluation symposium. They called it a symposium, but it was really just representatives from each building sitting together to chat. Martha Money appointed herself the “representative” of our building. No one fought her for it. I didn’t plan to go. Manager Liu called and asked me to attend. “Ms. Davis, Ms. Money has raised some concerns about you. It would be better if you came to respond in person.” “If you don’t come, it’ll just be her side of the story.” I went. In the community activity room, there were about twenty plastic chairs arranged around a long table. Director Ma sat at the head, with Manager Liu next to him. When I arrived, Martha Money was already seated, and she brought two people with her—old Mr. Zhou from the third floor and Ms. Zhao from the fourth floor. Her cheering squad. I found a seat in the corner. Director Ma gave a brief opening remark, then asked the building representatives to speak. Martha Money was the first to raise her hand. She cleared her throat and stood up. “Director Ma, I’m reflecting an issue on behalf of all the residents of Building 7.” She pulled a notebook out of her bag, its pages densely covered in writing. “The tenant on the seventh floor—” She glanced at me. “—has a lot of problems.” Then she began reading. Keeping a cat that disturbs the peace. Cluttering the hallway. Late-night noise. Installing a camera that invades privacy. Unauthorized drying on the balcony. Not participating in community activities. Not paying the public maintenance fund. That last one made me pause. I pay it every month. Auto-deduction. Never missed a payment. But I didn’t interrupt her. Martha Money finished reading, closed her notebook, and delivered her concluding remarks: “Director Ma, I’m not targeting anyone, but a resident like this seriously affects our building’s civilized environment. I suggest property management communicate with the landlord and ask her to move out.” Ask me to move out. The room was quiet for a few seconds. Old Mr. Zhou chimed in: “Ms. Money is right. Our building has always been a civilized building. We can’t let one bad apple ruin the whole bunch.” Ms. Zhao nodded: “Exactly, exactly.” Director Ma looked at me. “Chloe, do you have anything to say?” Over twenty pairs of eyes looked at me. Some curious, some sympathetic, some just watching the show. Not a single pair was on my side. I stood up. “First, I am not a tenant. I am the owner. My name is on the property deed.” “Second, my maintenance fund is set to auto-deduct every month. Here are the deduction records.” I held up my phone. Martha Money’s expression changed. “Third, regarding the camera.” I paused for a second. The whole room was waiting. “I installed the camera because someone was placing hazardous substances at my door, endangering my pet’s safety.” “I have video evidence.” Martha Money stood up abruptly. “Nonsense! What evidence do you have!” Her voice was shrill and piercing. I looked at her. “I said someone. I didn’t say who.” “Ms. Money, why are you getting so worked up?” The room went quiet again. Martha Money froze. She realized she had overreacted, her face turning a dark, liver-red color. Old Mr. Zhou quickly tried to smooth things over: “Alright, alright, young people have sharp tongues. Ms. Money, don’t lower yourself to her level.” Director Ma played the peacemaker, saying “Neighbors should be understanding of each other.” The symposium ended without any resolution. But as I walked out of the activity room, I heard what Martha Money said to Ms. Zhao behind my back. She thought I was far away. I wasn’t. I had walked two steps and stopped, standing around the corner. “Don’t worry, I’ve already spoken to Manager Liu.” Martha Money’s voice was low and confident. “When parking spaces are reallocated next month, they’re going to reassign her B12 spot to my son.” “She’s just a young girl who rides an electric scooter. Why does she need a parking spot?” Ms. Zhao laughed: “Ms. Money, you’re amazing.” “Of course.” Martha Money scoffed. “And she threatened me with a video? I’d like to see what’s stronger, her camera or my connections.” I stood around the corner, my back pressed against the wall. My fingers slowly curled into fists, then relaxed. Okay. Very well.

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In our fifteenth year of marriage, my husband, a Major General, cheated on me. I had planned to endure it, but the young girl couldn’t wait and came straight to our door. “Mrs. Hayes, we are truly in love. Please, let us be together.” Looking at Mia’s teary eyes, my heart turned to ash. It turned out the vows of our youth had long since expired. That night, I slept beside Arthur as usual. “Mia came to see me.” “Mm.” No explanation, not even a trace of emotion. “Arthur, you cheated!” I couldn’t help but raise my voice. “Chloe, we are completely innocent. Nothing happened between us. Could you stop making blind guesses like a bitter housewife?!” Innocent? If you were so innocent, would Mia have come to the door demanding a title? Things were at a standstill for a while. Until I came home early from a business trip. The moment I opened the door, I saw Mia wearing my pajamas, nestled in Arthur’s arms. Seeing me enter, Arthur tightened his arm around the girl, his eyes full of warning. I looked at him calmly. “Arthur, let’s get a divorce.” … Arthur refused, claiming he “hadn’t violated any fundamental disciplinary rules.” He mobilized every force he could to persuade me. My parents-in-law, whom I had taken care of for nearly twenty years, said to me: “Arthur knows his limits; things definitely haven’t gone that far. Just bear with it. Once this blows over, we’ll have him transfer the title of that new apartment downtown to your name.” An old army buddy of ours advised me: “What could that young girl from the entertainment troupe possibly be after? Isn’t it just Arthur’s current status? Given his rank, his benefits will only get better. Letting go now, aren’t you being foolish?” My best friend, whose own husband, a regular non-commissioned officer often away from home, also had a lover at the base, sighed: “Let it go, Chloe. As long as he wears that uniform and is away all year, these things are inevitable. At least Arthur is a commander. He commands respect outside, and he provides a solid life at home. If you divorce, do you think you can find someone better?” You see, it was as if that military uniform and the stars on his shoulders had become some sort of immunity, capable of canceling out all the betrayal and ugliness in a marriage. I remained silent, beginning to organize the bank statements and property deeds from all these years. My dad rushed over when he heard the news. As soon as he walked in, without a word, he slapped me across the face. He was trembling with anger: “What successful man isn’t busy? So what if he has a few female comrades who admire him around? He’s provided you with a life of luxury for over a decade; he’s done right by you! You insist on making a scene, making everyone a laughingstock? Look at your age. If you divorce, who would want you?” He looked ruddy and healthy. It seemed his new wife was taking good care of him, and his new son was smart too, so naturally, he had no time to consider the feelings of his daughter from a previous marriage. The last person to come and pressure me was my son, who was currently in a military academy prep program. He came back for the weekend. I instinctively reached out to take his backpack. He dodged to the side, staring straight at me: “Mom, why do you insist on divorcing Dad?” My heart, which had remained steadfast before all outsiders, violently contracted. “Your dad… he has another woman. Mom can’t live with him anymore.” “You mean Mia? Dad said she’s just a regular comrade. She admires him, so they’re a bit close, that’s all.” My son looked at me impatiently, his expression identical to Arthur’s. “Mom, you’ve lived a life of leisure for half your life. If you leave Dad, can you really make it? If you end up struggling, I won’t be able to look after you every day.” To be honest, before he came back, I still held onto a sliver of hope. I thought, this child I raised single-handedly would at least give me a hug. He would angrily confront his dad, he would stand on my side, and he would share my disdain for the betrayal. I never expected that the moment he returned, he would yell at me like that, then slam the door to his room. Bang! That loud noise left my ears ringing, and my legs felt weak. Chloe, how did you… end up living like this? That night, while I was showering, Arthur walked into the bathroom for the first time in ages. I couldn’t even remember how long it had been since we were last intimate. When he walked in, the look in his eyes was still devoid of warmth. But his movements didn’t stop. With a business-like familiarity, his hands roamed over my body. “Stop making a fuss, okay?” “I’ll have her transferred tomorrow. We won’t see each other again.” My body gradually heated up under his touch, but my heart felt like it was freezing over. I closed my eyes, letting my tears mix with the hot water. “Arthur.” “Mm?” “Have you slept together?” “…” The silence was the answer. A surge of anger shot straight to my head. “You… you really disgust me.” Arthur’s movements stopped. Then, in a fit of anger, he shoved me away. Chapter 2 My ankle hit the cold tiles, sending a piercing pain up my leg. Before I could react, he grabbed my chin roughly and dragged me to the mirror. “I disgust you? Look at yourself!” “Look at this haircut, what does it even look like? And this,” he crudely grabbed my chest, “it lost its shape ages ago! And look at your face, you’ve got age spots!” “Chloe, do you look anything like you used to?” His eyes were as cold as ice, his fingers gripping me hard enough to cause pain. “If we just live like this, I guarantee you a lifetime of stability. If we divorce, don’t you dare regret it.” Long after Arthur slammed the door and left, I was still shivering naked in the bathroom. I couldn’t believe this man, who had weathered twenty years of storms with me, could say such cruel things. Or perhaps, he had changed long ago, and I was just blinded by the title of “military wife”? I clenched my fists tightly, my nails digging into my palms. The sharp pain cleared my muddled brain bit by bit. Arthur, do you think I have no choice but to rely on you? Are you certain I wouldn’t dare do anything to you? Just you wait. I am definitely getting this divorce. When I went downstairs early the next morning, Arthur was uncharacteristically in the kitchen. My son, Leo, was already sitting at the dining table. Seeing me, he immediately lowered his head, making it clear he didn’t want to talk. Arthur, however, played the peacemaker, saying gently to our son: “Didn’t we agree last night to be understanding of your mother?” Only then did Leo reluctantly call out: “Mom.” “Son, training is hard. Come eat, I fried your favorite eggs.” Arthur looked at me, a clear smugness hidden in his eyes. I didn’t speak, just sat down silently. Not long after, the doorbell rang. The young orderly brought Mia in. “Good morning, Mrs. Hayes! Comrade Mia is here to deliver the performance approval documents to the commander.” In front of everyone, their fingers briefly brushed against each other. Leo showed no reaction, even greeting her: “Mia, have you had breakfast? Want to join us?” Mia acted coy, but then sat right down in the seat I usually took. As if deliberately trying to anger me, Leo pushed the glass of milk I had just poured for myself over to Mia. And got her a clean plate. Mia also went all out to please Leo: “Leo is so handsome and well-behaved! I thought you’d be like…” she glanced at me, “…that you wouldn’t like me.” “My mom might be in a bad mood recently, a bit suspicious. Don’t mind her, Mia.” Over breakfast, the two actually chatted quite amicably. I stopped listening after Leo said I was “suspicious.” I put down my chopsticks, picked up my coat, and walked straight out the door. I was going to find someone, an old classmate I hadn’t contacted in over a decade. My first love, now a top-tier lawyer even recognized by the military courts—Liam. Chapter 3 In a cafe outside the military base, I told Liam about wanting a divorce. He took a sip of his coffee, lifting his eyes to look at me: “Willing to give up your perks as the ‘Commander’s Wife’?” After all these years, his temper was still as stubborn and harsh as ever. If it hadn’t been for his personality back then, I wouldn’t have… Too lazy to banter with him, I pulled a card out of my bag and slid it over. “I’ve asked around. Your consulting fees are quite high now. Here is the retainer; I’ll pay the balance when it’s done. This is a strictly professional relationship, no personal feelings involved.” Liam picked up the card, inspected it, flicked it with his finger, and slipped it into his breast pocket. “Deal, employer comrade.” On the way back, he offered to drop me off. Compared to my so-called “happy family,” he seemed much more solitary these years. I heard his wife passed away from illness years ago, leaving no children. So he threw all his energy into his cases, becoming known in the system as the “Cold-Faced Judge.” Liam drove a modified, rugged off-road vehicle with high clearance and a deep, powerful engine roar. I couldn’t help but frown: “In your forties and still driving this kind of car?” He raised an eyebrow: “Wasn’t this your favorite back then? You said I looked best driving a Jeep, forgotten?” I choked for a moment. In my early twenties, I was indeed fascinated by things exuding power. But after so many years… “Getting older, can’t handle it anymore,” I brushed it off. Liam didn’t reply, but the corners of his mouth seemed to twitch upward. After getting out, I transferred him two hundred dollars on WeChat. Liam sent a question mark. I replied: [Gas money.] Liam: [Received, employer comrade.] Though sharp-tongued, Liam was undeniably professional. He gave me a detailed checklist, teaching me how to gather evidence without alerting the enemy. Following his guidance, I managed to trace the transactions of Arthur’s main accounts and, through some old connections, found a reliable private investigator who snapped photos of his “secret love nest.” It turned out to be an old apartment registered under my name. We lived there during our dating years and early marriage. Later, as he rose through the ranks quickly, we moved into the current commander’s quarters, and that apartment had been empty, occasionally used for storage. I hadn’t been there in years. Arthur actually set Mia up there? I dug out the dust-covered key and opened the apartment door. The layout hadn’t changed, but there were many new signs of life. It was obvious that Mia truly wanted to be the lady of this house. From the kitchen wafted the aroma of stewing soup, a small clay pot sitting on the stove. If that soup wasn’t the exact recipe I had tried countless times to perfect in order to soothe his sensitive stomach. Then I might have “praised” them: What a deeply affectionate couple. But I had only ever given that recipe to my mother-in-law. What this meant was self-evident. The continuous backstabbing made me go cold all over, even making me wonder if I was such a failure that everyone close to me chose to easily hurt me? While my emotions were churning, the sound of a key turning in the lock suddenly came from the door. Mia’s cheerful voice entered first: “I’m so exhausted—” Immediately following was the sound of her throwing herself into someone’s arms. “Arthur! It’s wonderful! I’m pregnant! We finally have a daughter!” Arthur’s voice carried a doting tone I hadn’t heard in ages: “Careful, don’t be so clumsy.” He looked up and saw me standing in the middle of the living room. Chapter 4 For the first time, I saw an expression called “panic” on Arthur’s face. He probably never dreamed he would run into me here. At this moment, however, I was exceptionally calm. I took out my phone and tapped record. Reacting, he immediately stepped forward to grab it. I took a step back, my voice steady but carrying undeniable force: “Arthur, think carefully. I’ve installed hidden cameras in this apartment. If the footage gets out, what happens to your reputation, and the military’s prestige?” Arthur’s breathing grew heavy. He had been in a high position for a long time, accustomed to controlling everything. My “loss of control” irritated him, and even more so, made him feel his authority was being challenged. “Chloe, stop messing around! Go home right now!” “I want a divorce.” “I told you, impossible!” “Then there’s nothing to talk about. We go do the paperwork tomorrow, otherwise, I can’t guarantee where these materials will end up.” “What are you making a scene for!” The veins on his temples throbbed. “Have you thought about the impact? About my parents? About Leo’s future!” When he mentioned our son, I finally completely broke down. I grabbed the ceramic vase off the coffee table and smashed it fiercely onto the floor! “Shut up! Don’t bring them up! You don’t have the right—!” I rushed forward and slapped him with all my might. “You bastard! Did you think about them when you cheated? Did you think about them when you had a child with someone else? Now that I’ve cornered you here, you’re telling me to think about them?! Arthur, your fucking selfishness needs to have a limit!” With that, I turned and left, slamming the door heavily behind me. I went straight to Liam’s law firm. “You look awful. Did you lay your cards on the table?” “Yeah. That woman… is pregnant.” “What are your plans now?” I forced a smile, but couldn’t quite manage it: “What other plans could there be? Having reached this point, the way back has long been cut off.” Liam was silent for a moment, then pushed the tissue box on the desk towards me. This subtle gesture strangely eased my frayed nerves. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.” He shrugged: “It’s fine. The employer is always right.” … Liam analyzed that the current situation was very favorable to me. The videos and photos in my possession, combined with the fact that Arthur had formed a de facto marital relationship with another woman outside of our marriage and conceived a child (even if unborn), would be a massive bargaining chip in a military divorce lawsuit and property division. Listening to him, my mind felt numb. There was none of the anticipated satisfaction, only deep exhaustion and emptiness. When I left the firm, he offered to drive me, but I declined. I needed to walk alone. Chapter 5 I walked for a long time along the secluded, tree-lined road on the outskirts of the military base. From our youth until now, we had far too many memories. My in-laws were traditional, hoping for a house full of children and grandchildren. They had hinted and explicitly urged us to have a second child countless times, but Arthur always deflected it. He said my health suffered when I gave birth to Leo, and he couldn’t bear for me to suffer again. I was carefully protected behind him like this, content to be his “home front,” forgetting that the person holding me up would also get tired arms, and a changing heart. Actually, Mia wasn’t the first blurry figure to appear beside him, but she was the first he tacitly allowed, even indulged, to parade right in front of me. He was testing me, testing the limits of my tolerance for this marriage. Perhaps, deep down, he had even harbored the ridiculous fantasy of “having his cake and eating it too.” When I got home, my in-laws were both there. Mia was surrounded by them, a shy yet sweet smile on her face. Arthur sat to the side. He looked up and saw me. The red mark on his face hadn’t completely faded. When he saw no wavering in my expression, the last sliver of luck in his eyes also vanished. We had been together for fifteen years; some things didn’t need to be spoken. His face darkened as he said to Mia: “You head back first.” The laughter filling the room abruptly ceased. Mia was stunned: “W-why? Your parents are still here…” “I said go, so go.” Arthur’s tone was an unquestionable command. In this house, his will was the highest directive. My in-laws exchanged glances but didn’t dare speak. My mother-in-law shot me a disgruntled glare. Arthur called a driver, and Mia left, looking back repeatedly, looking terribly wronged. Leo got anxious and yelled at me: “Mom! What are you doing now! Mia came to see me! She’s my friend!” For the first time, I didn’t try to smooth things over. I looked at him with a cold smile: “Being friends with your dad’s ‘girlfriend’?” “I told you it’s a misunderstanding! They just have normal interactions!” “Mia is pregnant with your dad’s child.” Leo looked as if someone had hit the pause button. He snapped his head to look at Arthur: “Dad… really?”

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Over winter break, an “@ everyone” tag from my desk mate’s father suddenly popped up in the class group chat. He said his daughter had gone out to hang out with me and was now unreachable, demanding I reply immediately. He also threatened that if anything happened to his daughter, he wouldn’t let me off the hook. A chill ran down my spine. She hadn’t come to see me at all. I had been home studying all day, hadn’t even stepped out the door. I typed an explanation, saying she wasn’t with me. The group fell dead silent. He didn’t reply again. I thought the matter was over. Until midnight, when he pried open my front door and barged in holding a knife. Our family of four—none of us escaped. Right before I died, he choked me and roared, blaming me for inviting his daughter out, claiming it was my fault she got tricked into running away with some delinquent. As I took my last breath, all I remembered were his bloodshot eyes. I opened my eyes, and my phone buzzed again. That same “@ everyone” tag in the group chat, identical word for word… 1 “This is Lily Evans’s parent, tagging everyone in the group. Lily has run away from home several times, and this time she’s been gone for two days. Whichever parent is harboring her, bear the consequences. She said she’s at Chloe Miller’s house.” My phone buzzed. Staring at this message, a cold sweat instantly broke out on my back. Lily Evans. Her father. That middle-aged man who barged into my house with a knife and murdered my entire family of four. That animal who choked me and, right before I died, gritted his teeth and said, “It’s all your fault for inviting her out.” I instinctively touched my own neck. No pain. No wound. Breathing smoothly. But I remembered that suffocating feeling, remembered his bloodshot eyes, remembered the sound of my mom falling onto the living room floor, remembered my dad’s back as he was hacked down trying to protect Leo, remembered my little brother Leo was only nine and didn’t even have time to cry out loud— I remembered. I remembered it all. “Sneaking out in the middle of the night all made up, dressed like a prostitute, and secretly taking a cab. Whoever lent her money, whoever invited her out, bear the consequences!” He sent another message. The group was dead silent. No one dared to speak. Last time, when I saw these two messages, I panicked and typed an explanation, saying Lily never came to see me, that I had been home studying all day and hadn’t even stepped out. He didn’t reply again. I thought the matter was over. Then, at midnight, he pried open my front door. I slowly put my phone down. It is now 5:23 PM. There are about seven hours until he pries the door open. Last time, I spent these seven hours in panic and feeling wronged. When my parents got home from work, I even complained to them about it, saying Lily’s dad was so mean. My mom even comforted me, saying it was normal for a parent to be anxious when their daughter was missing. Our family of four, none of us knew death was approaching. This time. I looked at that profile picture, that WeChat account saved as “Lily Evans’s Dad.” Mr. Evans. Do you know what the first thing I want to do after being reborn is? I don’t want to run. I don’t want to call the police—last time, during the final ten minutes when he was breaking in, I dialed 911. The line was busy. By the time it connected, he had already kicked the door open. I want you to know what it means to bear the consequences. 5:25 PM. I replied in the group. “Hello Mr. Evans, I just saw the messages. Lily didn’t come to see me today, and I didn’t invite her out. We haven’t really talked much at school lately. You could ask her other friends.” Pausing for two seconds, I typed another sentence: “But please don’t worry, she might have gone to another classmate’s house. I’ll help you ask around to see if anyone has seen her.” People started popping up in the group. “Lily ran away from home again? Oh my god, is she okay?” “Don’t worry Mr. Evans, we’ll help look for her.” “Chloe, were you home all afternoon? Didn’t go out?” That last message was from my desk mate, Mia. I didn’t reply to her. Because I saw Lily’s dad’s reply. “You didn’t invite her? She said you invited her out! You’d better tell the truth, or else when I find out, don’t blame me for not holding back!” 2 Heh. Here it comes. Last time, I was also terrified by this sentence, explaining desperately, my tone getting softer and my posture getting lower. But did it help? No. What he was looking for was never the truth; it was a scapegoat. Who was Lily Evans? The “problem girl” of our class. Dyed hair, makeup, skipping classes, dating some delinquent from outside the school. How many times had her dad beaten her? I don’t know. I only know that once she came to school with a handprint on her face, claiming she fell. This wasn’t her first time running away from home. But this time was different. This time, she eloped with that delinquent. She didn’t dare tell her dad the truth, so she casually threw out a line: “I went to Chloe Miller’s house.” Just that one sentence. Her dad believed it. Or rather, he pretended to believe it. Because he needed a target. He needed someone to bear the anger of his failed parenting. He needed someone to let him vent his impotent rage of “my daughter’s trouble is all someone else’s fault.” And me—good grades, well-behaved, never causing trouble, casually framed by his daughter—I was perfect. Last time, he killed me. This time, I’m going to let him know what it feels like to kick an iron plate. 5:32 PM. I sent a screenshot to the group. It was my WeChat chat history with Lily Evans. Our last chat was two weeks ago. She asked me what the weekend homework was, I replied, and she didn’t say anything else. Scrolling further up, it was borrowing notes, asking about exam times, borrowing a charger. Not a single personal chat, not a single invitation to hang out. “Mr. Evans, this is my chat history with Lily, please take a look. We really aren’t close.” People in the group started speaking up for me. “It’s true, Lily and Chloe aren’t in the same circle.” “Yeah, Chloe studies all day, she wouldn’t hang out with Lily.” “Sir, did you perhaps misunderstand?” Lily’s dad didn’t reply. But I knew he saw it. Because five minutes later, he sent a third message: “Chat histories can be deleted. Who knows if you deleted them beforehand? My daughter personally said she’s at your house, would she lie?” I smiled. Yes, she would lie. And you know better than anyone that she would lie. But you refuse to admit it. 5:40 PM. I sent a message to Lily. “Lily, where are you? Your dad is looking for you in the group, saying you’re at my house. Don’t scare me, what happened?” After sending it, I put my phone aside and started scrolling through my contacts. I remembered last time, Lily and that delinquent eloped to a neighboring city, stayed in a motel for a week, and only came back after they ran out of money. When she came back, my whole family had already been cremated. This time, I need to make her come back sooner. Not to save her. But to make her say with her own mouth: I didn’t go to Chloe Miller’s house. 6:00 PM exactly. My mom got home from work. “Chloe, what’s going on in the group chat? Why is Lily’s dad posting all that?” she asked while taking off her shoes. “You didn’t get into any trouble, did you?” “No,” I said. “Mom, don’t get nervous when I tell you this, but we need to stay somewhere else tonight.” My mom froze for a moment. “Why?” I looked at her. Not even forty, she already had white hair at her temples. Last time, she fell on the living room floor, still clutching the new pencil case she had just bought for me. “Because Lily’s dad might come looking for trouble,” I said. “He’s not a reasonable person.” My mom laughed: “It wouldn’t go that far, right? Just for this? He’s anxious because his daughter is missing, don’t take it to heart. Once they find her, it’ll be fine.” “Mom.” I looked at her, emphasizing every word. “Do you trust me?” “Of course I trust you.” “Then listen to me tonight. We’re going to stay at Grandma’s house for the night.” My mom hesitated, then nodded. “Alright, let’s talk about it when your dad gets back.” 3 6:30 PM. My dad came back with Leo. As soon as he walked in, Leo complained he was hungry. My mom went into the kitchen to cook. My dad sat on the sofa looking at his phone. After a while, he frowned. “Chloe, what’s the deal with Lily’s dad? Why is he talking so aggressively?” “That’s just the kind of person he is,” I said. “Dad, let’s go stay at Grandma’s house tonight.” “Why?” I explained the whole situation. After my dad listened, he stayed silent for a while, then said, “Alright, we’ll leave after dinner.” I was a bit surprised. My dad had always been the “better to avoid trouble” type. I thought he was going to tell me not to overthink it. “Dad, you don’t think I’m making a mountain out of a molehill?” “No.” My dad put his phone down and looked at me. “I saw what he said in the group. That kind of person doesn’t seem like he’ll just let things go.” He paused, then added, “We don’t cause trouble, but we aren’t afraid of it either. We’ll hide out for a night, and once he finds his daughter, it’ll blow over.” I didn’t say anything. Because I knew he wouldn’t find her. At least, not tonight. 7:20 PM. Our family of four finished dinner, packed our things, and prepared to leave. Just then, a loud banging sounded on the door. Not knocking. Banging. Like someone smashing it with their fists. “Chloe Miller! Come out! I know my daughter is in your house!” It was Lily’s dad’s voice. My mom jumped, instinctively taking a step back. My dad’s expression changed, and he pushed my mom and Leo back. “Don’t open the door,” he said in a low voice. The banging got louder. “Open the door! I’m calling the police! This is false imprisonment!” Leo was so scared he buried his face in my chest. Holding him, I felt my heart beating so fast it was about to jump out of my throat. Last time, he didn’t come this early. Last time, he came at midnight, with a knife. This time, he came just past seven. He didn’t bring a knife. At least, not right now. But he still came. “Dad,” I whispered. “Call the police.” My dad nodded and picked up his phone. The smashing outside continued. “Chloe Miller! Don’t think you’re safe hiding in there! If anything happens to my daughter, I’ll make your whole family pay with your lives!” A neighbor opened their door. “What are you doing? It’s late, what’s all the noise about?” “None of your damn business! Someone hid my daughter, I’m looking for my daughter!” My dad dialed 911. “Hello, someone is causing trouble at my door…” Before he could finish, a kick landed on the door. The doorframe shuddered. My mom screamed. Leo started crying. I held him tight, staring at that door. Last time, when this door was kicked open, I stood in the middle of the living room, trembling all over, unable to even speak. This time, I was waiting for the police. Bang! Another kick. The doorframe cracked. Bang! A third kick. The door opened. Not kicked open. Opened by my dad. He pulled the door open. A man stood outside. In his forties, short and stout, his face flushed red, his eyes glaring like he wanted to eat someone. Exactly the same as those eyes I saw right before I died last time. “Mr. Evans.” My dad stood in the doorway, blocking the path. “Why are you kicking my door?” “Your daughter hid my daughter!” He tried to push his way in. “Let me go in and search!” “Search for what?” My dad didn’t budge. “My daughter said your daughter hasn’t been here. Call the police, let them search.” “Call the police? Why would I call the police? My daughter is right here in your house!” He charged forward, but my dad blocked him. The two of them started shoving each other. “Get out of the way!” “Calm down!” The hallway was crowded with nosy neighbors. Some were taking videos, some were on the phone, some were shouting “Stop fighting, stop fighting!” 4 Amidst the chaos, I saw someone push their way through. It was our homeroom teacher, Ms. Lee. “What are you doing?!” She pulled Lily’s dad away. “Mr. Evans! What are you doing!” Lily’s dad was yanked away, still struggling: “I’m looking for my daughter! My daughter is in her house!” “Who said that?” “My daughter said it herself! She said she’s at Chloe Miller’s house!” Ms. Lee looked at me. I stood in the doorway, holding Leo, tears welling up in my eyes. “Ms. Lee,” my voice trembled. “Lily never came to my house. I don’t know her well. Her dad cursed at me in the group chat, I posted all our chat history, but he didn’t believe me, and now he’s here kicking our door.” “You’re lying!” “Enough!” Ms. Lee roared. “Mr. Evans, your daughter ran away from home, I understand you’re anxious. But what right do you have to come make a scene at someone else’s house? Kicking their door? Do you know this is illegal!” “What law did I break? I’m looking for my daughter…” “Looking for your daughter gives you the right to kick doors? To frame people?” Ms. Lee pulled out her phone. “Wait here, I’m calling Lily.” Lily’s dad sneered: “I already called. Her phone is off.” Ms. Lee ignored him and dialed the number. The call connected. “Hello, Lily? Where are you?” Everyone fell silent. Lily’s dad was stunned. Ms. Lee put it on speakerphone. From the other end came Lily’s voice, carrying a hint of impatience: “Ms. Lee, what is it?” “Where are you?” “I… I’m at a classmate’s house.” “Which classmate?” Silence. “Tell me.” “…Chloe Miller’s house.” My brain buzzed. She was still lying. In front of all these people, she was still lying. Lily’s dad instantly blew up: “Hear that?! Hear that?! My daughter said she’s at her house!” He pushed Ms. Lee aside and charged towards me. My dad grabbed him tightly. “Calm down! Even if she says she’s at Chloe’s house, have her send her location!” “Send what location! I believe my daughter!” “You believe your daughter? Then come and search!” I spoke up. Everyone looked at me. I put Leo down, let my mom hold him, and then walked to the doorway. “You come in and search.” I looked at Lily’s dad. “What if you don’t find her?” He froze for a second. “If you don’t find her, you replace our front door with a new one. You apologize to me. You clarify in the group chat that your daughter lied, and that I am innocent.” “Why should I—” “Why should you?” I cut him off. “Because you kicked my door. Because you slandered me in the group. Because you brought all these people here to make a spectacle of me.” I stared into his eyes. “Do you dare?” The hallway was dead silent. The neighbors were all watching. Someone was recording. Lily’s dad’s face turned beet red. “Get out of the way, I’ll search!” “First say what happens if you don’t find her.” “I…” Ms. Lee spoke up: “Mr. Evans, if you have nothing to hide, agree to her terms. If you don’t find her, replace the door and apologize. If you do find her, we’ll help you call the police and have them arrested.” Lily’s dad gritted his teeth, forcing a sentence through the gaps: “Fine.” I stepped aside. He charged into my house, searching every room like a mad dog. Kitchen, bathroom, balcony, closets, under the beds. Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

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When Sebastian was exchanging wedding rings with me, he still had a sex toy in his pocket meant for him and his younger stepmother. And I, to get back at him, slept with his childhood best friend on our wedding night. I intentionally left marks. But when Sebastian saw the hickeys on my neck, he just casually dialed his friend’s number: “Sebastian, bro, your wife is really something else!” “I’m already addicted.” Sebastian sounded completely indifferent: “You like her? Then how about sleeping with her again tonight?” Like a madwoman, I smashed his phone to pieces. For the next five years, we became the most infamous purely hate-driven couple in our social circle. Until he drove the Smith family to bankruptcy, sent my father to prison, and caused my brother’s death in a car crash. My mother, who had always loved me dearly, went mad overnight, hating me to the core: “It’s all your fault! If you hadn’t picked a fight with Sebastian, how could the Smith family end up like this!” “Why don’t you just die!” That night, Sebastian pinned me beneath him, fiercely kissing the corner of my mouth: “Chloe, whatever tricks you have left, bring them on.” My heart finally turned to ash. The bottle of sleeping pills under my pillow pressed painfully against me. No more fighting. This time, I decided to listen to my mother. …I’m going to die. 01 Tears fell onto the pillow, but Sebastian didn’t notice at all. He roughly unbuttoned my pajama top: “Chloe, you’ve fought with me for five years, it’s about time you learned to be obedient.” Obedient… My gaze flickered. If it were before, I would have pushed him away like a maniac, slapped him twice, and told him I would never let him have peace in this lifetime. But now, I was exactly as he said, Docile. Lying on the bed like a dead fish, letting him do whatever he wanted. Seeing that I didn’t react for a long time, Sebastian uncharacteristically stopped his movements. He frowned, a flash of surprise in his eyes. “Since when did you become so boring?” “Weren’t you quite vocal when you were in Ethan’s bed back then?” He grabbed my face, forcing me to look at him, but his hand met a large patch of wetness. Sebastian’s fingers paused: “What are you crying for?” The smell of Mia’s perfume on him made me nauseous. I fixed my gaze on him, From his disheveled clothes to his bobbing Adam’s apple, to the corners of his mouth that had just pressed against mine, and finally, his eyes. Our eyes met, touching for a brief second before separating. I opened my mouth: “If you want to vent your lust, hurry up.” “I want to sleep.” Sebastian’s hand on my face suddenly tightened, and the teasing look in his eyes darkened instantly. “What did you say?” He was angry… But my throat felt tight. What was he angry about? Wasn’t I being docile, exactly as he wanted? Sebastian stared at me deeply for a long time. In the passing seconds of my silence, the pressure of his hand lessened. Finally, he sneered: “Chloe, you really have endless tricks up your sleeve. You’ve even learned how to play hard to get.” He stood up and began adjusting his clothes. The shape of a square box bulged from his pants pocket. Sebastian’s fingers paused slightly, then he threw it in front of me, looking down from a commanding height: “For the sake of you being my wife in name, after bankrupting your family, I should at least compensate you with something.” “Chloe, as long as you behave, the position of Mrs. Vance is still yours.” The moment the gift box was tossed down, its sharp corner hit my shoulder. It hurt a little. But I still didn’t move, didn’t even glance at it. Sebastian stared at me for a while, then scoffed coldly: “The state of the Smith family today is your own doing, so you just have to take it. Stop wearing that dead face.” “As for the gift, take it or leave it.” He picked up his suit jacket, turned, and left. Only a long time later did I pull that bottle of sleeping pills from under my pillow, staring at it blankly. When should I take them? Tomorrow night… Tomorrow is my mother’s birthday. I’ll go see her one last time. 02 The next day, carrying a cake, I went to the psychiatric hospital. Seeing my mother, I tried my best to force a smile. “Mom, I came to see you.” My mother’s back, lying on the bed, stiffened, but she ignored me. Fighting back the sourness in my heart, I opened the cake box: “Mom, I came to celebrate your birthday today. The cake is strawberry flavored, your favorite from before.” “Get up and eat a little.” I spent four hours making it, even one bite is fine, Mom; This is the last time, Mom… But before I could finish, I felt a heavy weight on the back of my head. The next second, my entire face was shoved into the cake. “Get out!” My mother desperately pushed me outward. “Go die! Go be buried with Leo!” The cream was smeared all over my face, sticky and greasy, making it difficult to even breathe. I opened my mouth, wanting to say something. “Mom…” I stumbled, pushed by her against the doorframe. My mother screamed hysterically: “So what if Sebastian is having an affair with Mia? Why couldn’t you just pretend you didn’t know anything? Chloe, why did you have to throw a temper tantrum at him?” “How could I give birth to such an ungrateful thing like you!” “Chloe, go die! Hurry up and die!” Tears finally fell uncontrollably, my hands trembling slightly. In the past, she loved me the most. She used to say… no matter what I wanted to do, the Smith family would always be my rock. But now, she hated me to the point of madness, hated me enough to tell me to die. Have I really been completely wrong all these years… I lowered my head, looking away, and after a long time, finally spoke: “Okay.” I’ll listen to you, I’ll go die. Perhaps the aura of death in my eyes was too heavy, because she actually fell silent for a moment. The next second, with a bang, she locked me out. I stood frozen outside the door for a long time before I found the strength in my body again. Then, step by step, I shuffled to the restroom to wash the cream off my face. As the cold water hit my face, I slowly gathered my thoughts. I stared at my face in the mirror, speechless for a long time. Perhaps choosing to marry Sebastian back then was a mistake. Now, it was time for this mistake to end. Let it end tonight. By the time I left the psychiatric hospital, it had started to rain. I didn’t bring an umbrella and was too tired to call a cab. Walking alone in a daze for who knows how long, soaked to the bone and shivering slightly, a figure suddenly appeared in front of me. The rain instantly stopped. I looked up and saw Sebastian holding an umbrella, staring at me with an unfathomable expression. Through the window, I could also see Mia and a few of his close friends, including Ethan. 03 Sebastian pulled me into their private room at the bar. “What’s this? The eldest daughter of the Smith family is bankrupt and can’t even afford an umbrella?” Ethan looked at me with a half-smile. “How about you sleep with me again, and I’ll give you one?” Roars of laughter erupted around the room. Someone elbowed Ethan and teased: “Enough already. Just how wild was Chloe back then that you’re still obsessing over her after five years?” “Sebastian, bro, since you don’t care anyway, why don’t you let Chloe keep us company? It’s not like we won’t pay.” The explicit, grating comments came one after another. Sebastian sat in the booth, silent. After a long while, the corner of his mouth twitched: “Do whatever you want.” As soon as he said this, boos filled the room. The smile on Mia’s face grew even more smug and arrogant, though she feigned a glare at them: “Stop it, you guys. What’s so great about bullying a little girl?” She leaned close to Sebastian. “Speaking of which, you’re practically my daughter-in-law. You’ve been married to Sebastian for five years, and I haven’t even given you a meeting gift.” Hearing this, Sebastian’s face changed instantly. There was even a hint of jealousy in his eyes as he looked at Mia. In the past, being in this situation, I definitely would have thrown a massive tantrum like a lunatic. But now, I had long lost the fiery passion of love and hate. I just wanted all of this to end quickly. I turned to leave, but was grabbed by the wrist by Mia, who had stood up. “Since we met today, let me give you the Vance family’s heirloom jade bracelet.” Saying that, she slipped the jade bracelet off her wrist and pulled my hand, intending to put it on me. The next second, the jade bracelet crashed to the floor! Mia stumbled a few steps, missed a step, and fell into Sebastian’s arms, tears coming right on cue: “Chloe, I’m your mother-in-law in name at least. Even if you don’t like me, you shouldn’t have pushed me, and you even broke the Vance family’s heirloom…” Her voice choked up: “Sebastian, I sprained my ankle.” This trick again. Over the past five years, I don’t know how many times Mia had framed me like this. Her acting was clumsy, her excuses flimsy. But Sebastian believed every single one. Unsurprisingly, this time was no different. Sebastian grabbed my wrist with a terrible expression, “Chloe, have my methods not been enough, that even now you show no remorse?” “Apologize to Mia.” I lowered my eyes, my gaze falling on the hand grabbing me. “Okay.” I looked up and asked him: “How do you want me to apologize?” “Kneel? Kowtow? Or serve those guys…” I used to have sky-high pride, but now I felt that these humiliations were nothing compared to death. I continued speaking, looking at the buddies in Sebastian’s booth. “If I’m supposed to serve them, please make it quick. I want to go home before dark.” “Chloe!” Sebastian violently flung my hand away. The atmosphere instantly fell dead silent. A long time later, someone finally spoke: “Damn, she really is something else.” The voice wasn’t loud, but it was crystal clear in the quiet room. “Enough.” Sebastian shot the person a dark look, “Watch your mouth.” He stared at me for a long time, until Mia tugged at his sleeve, her voice carrying a hint of crying: “Sebastian, my ankle hurts so much.” Only then did Sebastian snap back to reality. He picked her up and walked out. “I’ll take you to the hospital first.” Before leaving, for the first time, he turned back to look at me after turning around, his eyes clouded. Not long after, a message arrived on my phone. Sebastian: [Wait for me at home tonight. About today… I’ll listen to your explanation.] I twitched the corner of my mouth. Sebastian, you want me to explain, but tonight… I’m destined not to wait for you. 04 Once Sebastian left, the others sensibly cleared out. Only I remained in the room. I stared at that message for a moment, then silently deleted it along with Sebastian’s contact information. Then I went home alone to organize my belongings. One by one… When I dug to the very bottom of a box, my hand suddenly paused. It was a thick stack of old, un-sent love letters. Written to Sebastian when I was young. Although Sebastian and I had an arranged marriage, no one knew that I had secretly liked him for many years. Even during a long period of our messy married life, I hadn’t let him go. But now, looking at the bold, unrestrained line in the love letter: [Sebastian, just wait until I make you mine], it felt like a lifetime ago. Just pieces of scrap paper. With a wooden face, I was about to throw them all into the trash can, but they were suddenly snatched away by a strong force. Ethan looked at the stack of love letters, his eyes full of meaning. I couldn’t be bothered to ask when he had entered the house. I just expressionlessly held out my hand: “Give them back.” His gaze swept over the love letters, a sneer on his lips: “Want them?” “Chloe, so the reason you’ve been raising hell with Sebastian all these years was harboring such filthy thoughts. But don’t worry… in Sebastian’s heart, you’re probably worse than a dog.” Those words sounded familiar. I suddenly remembered the year we first got married, during a fight, his icy glare: “Chloe, all this fuss you make, isn’t it just to get me to look at you more?” “But do you deserve it? In my heart, you’re nothing but a dog wagging its tail for scraps…” I was silent for a moment, and when I spoke again, my voice was as calm as a pool of dead water. “What exactly do you want?” Ethan reeked of alcohol, his smile vile. “Chloe… sleep with me one more time.” As he spoke, he turned on his phone’s video recording: “Facing this, let’s do it again.” Ethan forcefully pinned me down on the bed, speaking frivolously: “Actually, all these years I’ve always regretted it. You screamed so enthusiastically back then, why didn’t I record it?” I lay numbly, offering no resistance, but my hand gripped the bottle of sleeping pills under my pillow tightly. … Returning to the villa, Sebastian frowned as he looked at the chat box where I hadn’t replied. There wasn’t even the usual curse. [Chloe, I’m home.] [I told you the position of Mrs. Vance is still yours. Don’t throw another princess tantrum next time.] But the only response he got was a red exclamation mark indicating he had been deleted. “Chloe!” The next second, the bloodstains at the door pierced his eyes unexpectedly. Sebastian’s pupils shrank violently, and he kicked the door open— 05 All he saw was glaring red. “Chloe!” The me in front of him violently vomited a mouthful of blood, while Ethan desperately shook my shoulders. “Chloe, are you fucking crazy?” “Spit it out!” But I vomited another mouthful of blood, Straight onto the bottle of Amitriptyline nearby. Seeing this scene, Sebastian felt a rush of hot blood surge straight to his head. “What are you doing?!” He violently yanked Ethan away, his mind going blank for a moment as he looked at me, half-dead. “Ethan!” “What did you do to her?!” His voice could no longer suppress his fury. And in my stomach, there was an agonizing, earth-shattering pain. For the first time, I learned that taking sleeping pills didn’t just mean going to sleep and dying. Palpitations, chest tightness, suffocation, pain… a myriad of agonizing sensations enveloped my entire body. I suddenly felt a twinge of regret. …If I had known, I would have chosen another way to die. Although Ethan’s drunkenness had completely dissipated, he was also somewhat bewildered, not understanding how things had turned out this way. Just now, as he pinned me down, the phone beside us pointing at me. “Chloe, weren’t you quite fierce before? Why are you as boring as a dead fish now?” My gaze finally moved, and I spoke when he was about to take off my clothes. “There are condoms in the closet. Go get them. I don’t want to get pregnant.” Ethan froze for a moment, unable to hold back a scoff. “Chloe, at a time like this, what are you still pretending for?” He stared at my face, and seeing no reaction, he replied irritably: “Fine.” “Truth is, you don’t deserve it anyway.” He let go of me and stood up. The restraint on my body released, and in that instant, I unhesitatingly poured all the sleeping pills into my mouth. Then, I fell to the floor, vomiting a lot of blood. “She took them herself…” Before he could finish, Sebastian punched Ethan in the face. “Get out!” Pain shot through him, and Ethan’s body staggered. When he spoke again, his voice was hoarse: “Sebastian, the most pressing matter now is to get Chloe to the hospital.” Sebastian seemed to finally react. He fumbled with his phone a few times, then picked me up and rushed outside. I was already drifting in and out of consciousness, and being jostled by him made my head even groggier. I threw up another mouthful of blood, right onto his suit. “Chloe…” Sebastian’s pupils contracted slightly, calling my name in a low voice. “Chloe, don’t sleep.” He called out to me over and over again. So noisy. I only felt my eyelids getting heavier. Sebastian’s voice took on a gritted-teeth quality: “Chloe, if you dare to die, I’ll make sure your father spends the rest of his life in prison, never getting out.” “And your mother…” That was the last sentence I heard. My heart seized. I moved my mouth, wanting to say something, but was powerless to utter a single word. Finally, my hand dropped uncontrollably. The world was finally peaceful.

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When I learned that my husband had been assigned to work in a remote location for another 7 years, I traveled a long way to find him. Arriving at his workplace, I was stopped by an older security guard. Upon hearing that I was looking for Arthur, his face drastically changed: “Why are you looking for my son-in-law?” I was struck by a bolt from the blue, thinking maybe it was just someone with the same name. But a worker chatting nearby laughed: “Uncle, what are you panicking for? Everyone for miles around knows Arthur is totally henpecked.” “Even if someone tried any funny business, your son-in-law wouldn’t dare.” He gestured towards me with his chin: “She might be someone sent from above for work.” Feigning calmness, I opened a photo of Arthur on my phone: “I have business to discuss with him. Is the Arthur you’re talking about this man?” The security guard let his guard down: “Yes, that’s my son-in-law.” The blood in my veins froze. Before long, a well-dressed woman approached me with a bright smile: “Are you looking for my man to talk about work?” “Let’s go wait at the house. Our son has a fever, so he took him to the hospital in town.” … I felt like I had been struck by lightning, staring at the woman in front of me, unable to breathe. Seeing me stunned, the woman warmly greeted me: “I’m Arthur’s wife, Chloe. Just call me Chloe.” She was very friendly, a smile constantly beaming on her face as she waved for me to follow her: “It’s all rough men around here, every one of them a pervert. It’s not safe for a woman to be here.” “Come wait at my house. It’ll be a while before he gets back.” As she spoke, she familiarly linked her arm through mine. As if possessed, I followed her footsteps. I stealthily examined this woman from the corner of my eye. Her skin was poor, her makeup skills lacking, with foundation settling into the creases under her eyes. Yet, it was still evident that she was more than 10 years younger than the 37-year-old Arthur. “Oh my, you city folks are really different. Your skin is so good, just like a peeled egg.” She stared at my face openly. Her eyes filled with envious light: “My man’s skin is just like yours, so soft.” She smiled amiably and enthusiastically: “It seems the city environment really nurtures people.” I forced a strained smile. She was right; both Arthur and I had that kind of smooth, delicate skin. Even though I was quite a bit older than her, thanks to good maintenance, I still looked like a girl in her early twenties. Not at all like a middle-aged woman who had been married for 12 years. But what did that matter? Even if I was pretty, had a good job, took care of the elders above and the child below… My husband still committed the ultimate betrayal behind my back, having another family. She was very talkative, chattering on endlessly. A couple riding a motorcycle approached and stopped as they passed us. The woman on the back of the motorcycle handed Chloe a bag of chestnuts: “Look how much your man thinks of you. Took the kid to the doctor and said you like chestnuts, so he asked me to bring a bag back for you.” Chloe smiled, accustomed to it: “He just worries too much.” I deliberately said: “Your husband treats you so well.” The woman on the motorcycle chimed in: “Her man treats her exceptionally well. If she tells Arthur to go east, he doesn’t dare go west.” “Arthur, who fears nothing in heaven or earth, is terrified when Chloe glares or sheds a tear!” Chloe’s smile remained habitual: “Sister-in-law, stop teasing me.” A sour, bitter feeling churned in my heart. It felt like God had played a massive joke on me. My highly educated husband, who sought equality in everything in our marriage, was actually acting as someone else’s henpecked husband out here. We arrived at Chloe’s house. Although located in a rural area, it didn’t look like a rural house at all. Instead, it was a very chic little country villa. “My man built this. Nice, right? It’s the only one of its kind in our village, and he’s also the first live-in son-in-law here.” My heart skipped a beat, shocked by the words “live-in son-in-law.” Entering the living room, I saw a family portrait hanging on the wall. A family of 6, everyone smiling happily. In the picture were a 5-year-old boy and a girl around 3. We have a family portrait like this in our living room too. Except, we only have one 10-year-old son, no daughter. The year he was dispatched by his unit, he held my face and swore: “Wife, believe me. At most 2 years, and I’ll find a way to get transferred back.” “When I return, if your health permits, we’ll have a second child, and our family will never be apart again.” But he was gone for 7 years. Except for a few days at home after the New Year, he was barely seen all year round. When he went back last year, I even expressed my regret to him about not having a daughter. Uncharacteristically, he said: “The general environment is bad right now; clear-headed young people aren’t having kids anymore.” “We have one son, that’s good enough. Why suffer through having a second child?” It turned out his thinking hadn’t changed; he just already had both a son and a daughter out here. “We have Wi-Fi at home, you can connect your phone to save data.” “The password is November 13th, my man specifically set it to my birthday.” She said this while smilingly bringing me tea. My heart Jolted again. Arthur had told me there was no internet in this mountainous area. So it was always him finding ways to contact me; I could never reach him. I opened my phone and connected to Chloe’s Wi-Fi; full signal. Lies were being dismantled before my eyes one after another, each one feeling like a knife stabbing my heart. Feigning composure, I said: “You two have such a good relationship. I heard he was dispatched here; aren’t you worried he’ll be transferred back?” Chloe kept a smile on her face: “Not worried. To be honest, my man almost got transferred back this time.” My heart tightened, fixated on her next words. “My man pulled a lot of strings to stay.” “He’ll probably stay for another 7 years. Once all the projects here are finished, my man said he’d rather resign than go back.” My heart felt like it had plummeted to the bottom of a cliff. So it wasn’t the company forcing him to be dispatched again; he applied for it himself! Even though he knew his mother was hospitalized with a stroke and his father had broken his leg, needing their son by their side to fulfill his filial duties. Even though his son’s eyes grew red time and time again, feeling wronged because he rarely saw his father all year. Even though he knew I, his wife, was exhausted managing everything inside and out, overwhelmed by work and family, nearly hospitalized from fatigue several times. He still comfortably lived a carefree life with another woman thousands of miles away. A cold chill made my shoulders tremble slightly. Thinking I was cold, Chloe immediately turned on the AC: “It won’t be cold in a minute. This AC my man bought me is a top brand.” Although she was smiling, she constantly brought up Arthur’s love for her, showing off their affection. “In this village, no one has AC, only my house does. Actually, AC costs a lot of electricity, I didn’t want to install it, but my man insisted, saying he was afraid I’d freeze in the winter.” With a strained smile still hanging on my face, I asked indirectly: “I feel like he’s quite a bit older than you. Is this his second marriage?” “He’s 10 years older than me, not a second marriage. I just got incredibly lucky.” The smile on Chloe’s face grew even happier: “God is good to me, letting someone like me, who only finished elementary school, find a man with a master’s degree.” “He came here as the project manager for development, practically the boss’s right-hand man. I could never have dreamed of being the wife of such a capable man.” “My man also says meeting me is the luckiest thing that ever happened to him.” She chattered on: “Actually, having an age gap is quite nice; he knows how to care for someone. My man is not only responsible at work but also responsible to the family.” “He gives me every penny of his monthly salary, and I only give him 200 bucks for cigarette money.” Bitterness churned within me. All these years, Arthur had been sending back $3,000 of his salary every month. He said room and board were covered here, and $100 was enough for pocket money. Their company’s accountant is my college roommate; I knew his monthly after-tax salary was $3,100. I probed: “With his high salary, the whole family must live well.” “Exactly, that’s why I say I struck gold. Not only is he good to me, but he’s even better to my parents.” “My mom has a bad back.” She pointed to the expensive massage chair next to the sofa: “This massage chair cost over $2,000; he bought it without blinking an eye.” “My dad likes to drink, so he buys cases of top-shelf liquor that cost hundreds of dollars a bottle.” “He also gives me $5,000 every month to spend however I want.” Hearing this, I was certain Arthur was embezzling and taking bribes. The bitterness in my heart was like gall, and I also felt sorrow for his parents. Three months ago, my mother-in-law was critically ill from a stroke. Crying outside the emergency room, I called him: “Arthur, come back. Mom is in resuscitation; she keeps murmuring that she wants to see you.” But he lied to me: “You’ve worked hard, wife. The construction project here has entered a critical phase; I really can’t get away.” “Mom is a good person and will be blessed; nothing will happen to her.” Many times when I was panicked, helpless, my legs so weak I could barely stand. His phone was either unreachable, or he couldn’t come back. He ignored his own family, his parents, and his child. Yet he played the role of a good husband, a good father, and a good son-in-law in another family. It was the ultimate irony, a fatal blow. Chloe’s phone rang. She didn’t avoid me. The speaker volume was just loud enough for me, sitting next to her, to hear clearly. He called her: “Wife.” His voice was gentle, in the exact same tone he usually used when calling me. “Son’s fever hasn’t broken yet; the doctor says we need to stay overnight in the hospital for observation.” “I don’t have enough money on me. Wife, transfer some money to me, $30 will do.” I sneered internally; what a family-oriented good man he was. Chloe smiled and said, “Got it, I’ll transfer it to you in a bit.” On the other end, Arthur worriedly instructed her: “Hubby can’t hold you to sleep tonight. Be good and go to sleep, cover yourself well so you don’t catch a cold.” “Not being by your side for one day makes my whole body uncomfortable.” These words were like sharp swords stabbing fiercely into my heart. Married for 12 years, we only had this kind of intimate sweetness in the first few years. Now, he hadn’t even been this attentive to our own son. Time made us an old married couple. And now it has made us the most familiar strangers drifting apart. The call ended. Chloe looked at me with a smile, just about to say something, then spoke as if remembering something: “By the way, I forgot to ask your name?” “Madeline.” “What a beautiful name, city folks really know how to name people.” She was still her talkative, enthusiastic self. Up until now, I was still thinking. She was most likely an innocent woman kept in the dark, just like me. “By the way, my man won’t be back today. Why don’t you stay here for the night, and when he gets back tomorrow, you can talk about work.” I agreed. During dinner, Chloe made a table full of good dishes with meat and vegetables. I met their daughter, whose eyes and brows looked very much like Arthur. Chloe’s parents weren’t as enthusiastic towards me, just superficially polite. They even looked at me with a bit of vigilance, a bit strangely. At the dinner table, the person they mentioned the most was Arthur. In their mouths, Arthur wasn’t a son-in-law, but a biological son. Chloe was an only daughter; in this remote area that heavily favored boys over girls, the old couple had never been able to hold their heads high their whole lives. It was Arthur’s appearance, becoming their live-in son-in-law and honoring them like biological parents, That allowed them to finally straighten their spines that had been bent for a lifetime. Chloe’s mother said: “Arthur is the pillar of our family; our family cannot do without him.” It felt as if an irremovable thorn was stuck in my throat. He didn’t support the roof of his own house, but propped up someone else’s year after year. When it was time to sleep, Chloe arranged for me to stay in the guest room next to her parents’ room. After the lights went out, I couldn’t fall asleep for a long time. I heard Chloe’s parents whispering in the next room for a long while. After much deliberation, I sent a whistle-blowing letter and video to the headquarters of Arthur’s company. And sent a message to my brother, who is a police officer: “I need you to work hard and come arrest Arthur; he broke the law.” These two decisions didn’t relieve my anger, but they were an accounting to my life. And the punishment he deserved. The next morning. Chloe brought her clothes for me to wear, afraid I’d dislike them, she specifically added: “My man just bought this for me; it’s been washed once but never worn.” “It’s quite cold here, you’re wearing a bit too little and might catch a cold.” I looked at the down jacket she brought over, a pure white, slim-fit long coat, a big brand that cost $590. I had looked at it all winter but couldn’t bear to buy it, adding it to my cart and removing it several times. Not that I couldn’t afford it, but with elders above and a child below, money had to be spent with planning. I had also complained to Arthur in the past: “Other husbands buy clothes for their wives. I’ve been with you for so many years, and I’ve never seen you buy me any.” He always smiled and said gently: “The money is all with you; buy whatever you want.” “I’m afraid you won’t like what I buy, and I don’t know how to pick women’s clothes either.” It turned out it wasn’t that he didn’t know how to pick; he just didn’t want to pick them for me. “Thank you.” I took the coat and put it on. It looked good and was warm. She paused, a flash of surprise in her eyes, unexpected that I didn’t politely decline. While eating breakfast, I listened to her chattering on, showing off their affection again. She also asked me what life was like in the city. She even asked me: “How are you doing?” I smiled faintly and said truthfully: “Not bad, just that my man doesn’t know how to dote on his wife as well as your man.” She grinned happily. Finally, noon arrived. The door was opened from the outside, and Arthur’s familiar voice came: “Wife, I’m back.” Chloe and I both stood up from the sofa and looked at him. “Which wife are you calling? Hubby.” I asked him with a cold face.

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Ethan Vance had amnesia. He forgot everything about me. His memory was stuck in the year he loved his ex-wife the most. No matter how hard everyone around us tried to convince him otherwise, he remained convinced that I was the “other woman” who had broken them up. The doctors said there was a chance his memory could return, so I clung to that hope, refusing to let go. For three years, we caught in a vicious cycle of divorcing and remarrying. We became a notorious joke within our entire elite social circle. People actually placed bets on us. They bet on when I would finally give up, and they bet on when Ethan would finally remember. That was until the news of our eighth divorce hit the trending topics. Chapter 1 Reporters carrying heavy cameras stormed into my law firm. They thrust microphones into my face, their words laced with provocation. “Ms. Sterling, as a divorce attorney yourself, how does it feel to have been divorced eight times?” My professional reputation was shattered instantly. I watched as framed certificates of achievement from my wall were thrown down and trampled underfoot. Before I could formulate a response, the senior partner fired me on the spot, citing “damage to the firm’s reputation.” “Ava, take a piece of advice,” he said, looking at me with disdain. “Have some self-respect. Stop harassing Mr. Vance.” I gripped my trembling hands together. Suddenly, I just felt profoundly tired. They were right. This time, I really needed to let go. … It was pouring rain when I left the firm. I held the cardboard box containing the belongings from my desk, driving home in a daze. The front door wasn’t fully closed. I could hear giggles drifting out from inside—Ethan and his ex-wife, Mia. I surveyed the room. It was a total mess. Clothes scattered everywhere, dirty tracks on the carpet… The television news in the living room was still playing a loop of the drama at my firm earlier today. Seeing me return, the smile on Ethan’s face faded significantly. “You actually have the nerve to come back here.” The sarcastic words reached my ears with crystal clarity. Mia giggled and kissed the corner of Ethan’s mouth. “Alright, Ethan. After all, you two were together for seven years. Leave her some dignity.” Then she raised her head, arched an eyebrow at me, her smile heavy with implication. “Ethan missed me terribly, so I came over. You don’t mind, do you?” Rainwater dripped from my hair, pooling on the floor. A wave of exhaustion washed over me. I didn’t look at the intimate scene on the sofa again. I turned and walked towards the master bedroom. But when I pushed the door open, I froze mid-step, paralyzed. “Oh, I forgot to tell you.” Ethan was leaning against the wall, watching me with a smirk. “I decided to redecorate. I threw all your stuff out.” “They should still be in the dumpster by the curb.” He seemed truly happy whenever he saw me miserable. A sharp pain shot through my chest. My soaked shirt made my body feel incredibly cold. “You bought the top trending spot for the news today, didn’t you?” “We’re already divorced. Why did you have to make me lose my job, too?” Faced with my interrogation, Ethan stepped forward and slapped the box out of my hands. Files and documents scattered across the floor. That represented nearly seven years of my hard work and life. “Wasn’t it enough that you harassed me for three years? Even if I really had something with you in the past, I have amnesia now.” “I forgot you. That means you are worthless to me!” These words undoubtedly stabbed right into my old wounds once again. Three years ago, a sudden bout of amnesia made him forget everything about me. Just the day before the accident, he had held me, excitedly decorating the nursery, fantasizing about whether we would have a boy or a girl. But later, he forgot. He only remembered Mia. “You just forgot! You have no idea what Mia did back then…” Unwillingness and rage nearly drove me mad. Ethan’s face turned ashen. He grabbed my arm violently. He shoved me out the front door. The heavy rain soaked me instantly once more. “I don’t care what Mia did. I only remember that I love her. That’s enough.” I opened my mouth, but all the interrogation and unwillingness suddenly seemed meaningless. Ethan irritably avoided my gaze. He reached down and aggressively pulled the wedding band off his finger. The edge of the diamond ring cut his hand. He threw the ring at my feet. As he slammed the door shut with force, he left me with one final line. “Don’t be so pathetic, begging me to remarry you again.” I stood there for a very long time. Finally, I crouched down and picked up that wedding ring. Ethan had designed this himself before we got married. He had worn it for seven years, never taking it off once. By the dumpster on the street, I found our wedding photos smashed to pieces, a scarf he had personally hand-knitted for me. And all the photo albums detailing our memories together. My phone suddenly rang. I looked at the caller ID and answered. Ethan’s mother’s excited voice came through the line. “Ava! I just got Ethan’s check-up report. The doctor said there are signs of his memory shifting!” “If he continues the treatment, there’s an eighty percent chance he can be cured!” My knuckles turned white as I gripped the phone tighter. The word “okay” that was on the tip of my tongue never came out. Finally, I whispered softly. “Mom, let’s not treat it. If he forgot, let him forget.” Chapter 2 The next day, I went to the old Vance family estate. I laid those eight divorce certificates out in front of Ethan’s mother. “Mom, Ethan and I are divorced again.” Eleanor Vance looked at me with pity in her eyes and sighed deeply. “Ethan has wronged you. You two were so happy once.” “But this time is really different. I’ve contacted several doctors, and they all say the probability of a cure is high.” She pushed a business card toward me, her eyes filled with anticipation. “I’m getting old. I just want you two to live a good life together.” “He’s actually been remembering quite a bit about the past lately…” Before she could finish her persuasion, I interrupted her. “But he has never remembered anything about me.” I lowered my head, avoiding Eleanor’s pitying gaze. The atmosphere grew silent, until she suddenly spoke. “If you leave, and Ethan remembers you but can’t find you, he will go crazy.” For the past three years, every time we divorced, Eleanor would say this. And because of this sentence, I had softened my heart time and time again. Remarried him time and time again. Before I could respond, there was noise from the entryway. Ethan walked in. The moment he saw me, his brows knit tightly together. “Ava Sterling, did you come here to complain to my mother again?” “I already kicked you out, yet you’re still this haunting. Can you really not survive without me!” Eleanor was so angry her chest heaved violently. She stood up abruptly. She raised her hand, and a resounding slap landed heavily on Ethan’s face. “Haven’t you had enough? How much more do you want to push Ava?” “Without her, you would have lost your life long ago.” Sitting on the sofa, I clenched my hands into fists. I couldn’t help but think back to seven years ago. His marriage to Mia had been miserable. Mia enjoyed the entirety of his love, yet she already had another man on the side. His wife was cheating; overnight, he became the laughingstock among the young elite. When he went to confront them. Mia had also embezzled ten million dollars and vanished without a trace. After that, Ethan fell into depression. Just as he was preparing to jump into the river to commit suicide. I was the one who saved him. “So what? She just wants money, doesn’t she?” Ethan still looked at Eleanor stubbornly. “I don’t care what Mia did in the past. I just love her. It’s impossible for me to love anyone else.” “And I won’t regret it.” In an instant, Eleanor looked as if all the strength had been drained from her. She turned back and looked at me apologetically. Ethan rubbed his temples, finally raising his head in a gesture of compromise. “Ava, if you want to remarry, fine. We’ll just end up divorced again anyway. The person losing face will be you, not me.” “Since you can’t bear to leave me, let’s go to City Hall right now.” “This is your eighth divorce already, isn’t it?” The corners of my mouth twitched. I couldn’t reconcile the person in front of me with the Ethan Vance in my memory. “I came here today to make things clear with Mom.” “You are free, Ethan.” Ethan froze. The hand hanging by his side trembled unconsciously. He looked at me in surprise, then quickly returned to normal. “Playing hard to get, are we? Too bad that doesn’t work on me.” “Fine, you said it. Just don’t come begging me again later.” Ethan spoke almost through gritted teeth. Ignoring Eleanor’s attempts to stop him, he threw the things in his hand onto the ground. He turned and stormed out. Eleanor was so angry her vision blurred. She turned toward Ethan’s retreating back and shouted. “You will definitely regret this!” Chapter 3 Whether Ethan would regret it or not, I didn’t care anymore. After completely giving up on his treatment, my tightly wound nerves relaxed significantly. Upon leaving the Vance estate, I was preparing to ask Ethan to return my passport and ID. All my important documents had been with him for the past few years. Just as I reached the street corner. A burst of intense pain erupted from my forehead. Hot blood gushed from the wound. My head spun, and before I understood what was happening. I was violently pulled and dragged by a group of people, who began kicking and beating me. “It’s her! She’s the other woman!” “Mr. Vance and Mia are the real couple, she just insists on being the homewrecker.” “Bah, a disgrace to the legal profession. Specializing in other people’s divorces when she can’t even sort out her own domestic mess.” The commotion instantly attracted the attention of passersby. Instead of acting heroically, they held up their phones, filming me continuously. Because of excessive blood loss, I had no strength to fight back. The surrounding crowd, seeing that I lacked even an ounce of strength to resist, eventually left with disappointment. They spat on me before leaving. “We’ll beat you every time we see you from now on!” As my vision blurred, I saw Ethan in the distance. He and Mia were holding hands, smiling sweetly. They looked truly happy. When our eyes met, Ethan’s expression stiffened. Instinctively, he started running toward me. “You… what happened to you?” The blood wouldn’t stop flowing, dying my clothes red. Ethan’s mind went blank. He seemed panicked, his hand trembling as he pulled out his phone to call 911. But Mia stopped him. “Don’t bother. Maybe she directed and acted this scenario herself, just to maliciously get your sympathy?” “It just looks scary, it’s fine.” “Didn’t you say you were taking me to pick out a birthday gift?” Mia dragged him away. Ethan hesitated for a moment, then turned off his phone. He didn’t look back at me. I leaned against the wall, gasping for breath, the blood still not stopping. In the end, I dialed 911 myself. But before the ambulance could arrive, I completely lost consciousness. When I woke up again, it was already a week later. The doctor said that if I had been just a little later, I might have lost my life due to excessive blood loss. Eleanor Vance, knowing about this, came to the hospital specifically to see me. She covered all the medical expenses. “Ava, this was all due to the excessive behavior of those people. Mom has already handled it for you.” “Ethan, he…” “He just forgot that you have a blood clotting disorder.” Eleanor tried to persuade me again, but looking at my pale face. The words died on her lips. I smiled faintly. “Mrs. Vance, I’m divorced from him. I won’t be staying in the city, either.” “I’m never coming back.” Hearing the change in address, Eleanor’s eyes suddenly turned red. Ultimately, she just nodded. “Ava, whatever you want to do, Mom will help you.”

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